A night to remember

"If you bungle raising your children, I don't think whatever else you do matters very much."

— Jackie Kennedy

AUBURN — The last time I looked my son was racing across the parlor floor wearing nothing but a diaper and huge grin on his handsome face. 

That was 17 years ago.

Last night, Anthony was dressed in a tuxedo and looking more dapper and refined than James Bond — a fictional, fussy British Secret Service agent who insisted his martinis be shaken, not stirred.

Writer Ian Fleming would have been impressed by the appearance of this fine young man who decided to go it alone and attend the Edward Little High School prom without a date. That takes courage, but leaves him with many options on a warm spring evening.

Yesterday was filled with Legos, models, ships and endless trips to the park for this family of three. There were tales of pirates and long-forgotten wars. Summers were spent on Maine's pristine beaches and making numerous road trips to Boston to visit our parents.

I guess some parents look forward to the day when their children move out. I am in no hurry, especially after becoming a stay-at-home dad, working nights for a newspaper in Maine and playing army men with my son by day.

You see, raising my son never gets old for me.

Things changed in a hurry his sophomore year when he discovered high school had so much to offer. He joined this, that and the other thing and decided to become an athlete. It was his idea to take the initiative and get involved at school and in his community, with encouragement from us, of course.

Terri and I both felt pride and awe in a kid who continues to astound and impress us. If you don't feel this way about your child, you are not doing the most important job in the world right, and children always suffer from parents' aloofness.

It is not easy for me to watch him make his way in the world. We have a long and loving history between us, and if I had the money and power of a president, I would have him protected by the United States Secret Service for the rest of his life.

Allowing a child to move on in his life and make his own decisions without your interference is hard to take, especially after you spent a couple years living in fear when they begin walking. When he leaves for college, the world will witness a fearless 6-foot-3 former football player go to pieces and sob like an old woman at a funeral. A good friend said Anthony's absence will probably kill me. 

I hope my friend is wrong. I want to see how it all turns out for him.

Before Anthony took the 10-minute ride to Lost Valley — a small ski resort located in the hills of Auburn — we took a dozen pictures of the handsome lad in our green backyard. Anthony is also a ski patroler for Lost Valley, but the only terrain he would be patrolling was the dance floor on Saturday night.

Terri and I often wonder where had 17 really good years had gone and why Anthony's high school years felt as if we were racing across the galaxy in the Starship Enterprise at warp drive.

I was told that many students didn't want to attend  the event and thought the cost and all the hoopla was a waste of time. What is wrong with spending four hours being young and dancing the night away without the worry of paying a mortgage and thinking about going to work the next day?

I know all too well that we only pass this way once in our short lives. But I also understand this honor student is well on his way to doing something wonderful with his life.

Watching him don a tuxedo and spend an evening with friends was just another proud moment for his mom and dad.

And our son really does look good in a tux.

Cold heart

AUBURN, Maine - For those of you who have watched from afar, the good people of New England have been freezing their buns off for the past six days.

If you live in a warm-weather state or are enjoying summer down under in Australia, then you can smile all you want because, baby, it's damn cold up here.

Winter is slapping New Englanders around for the moment. We are wearing 40 layers of clothing and saying prayers when we start our cars.

Car-battery killing winds have swept across Maine and turned this climate into a frozen tundra. The f-word can be heard from miles away when Mainers turn over their stubborn cars in below-zero morning cold. 

For six mind-numbing days, the cold has taken our breaths away and made oil companies rich. And even on the seventh day, the Arctic cold did not rest, leaving Mainers longing for humidity and 80-degree temperatures.

The steam rising from Casco Bay harbor in Portland was a site to behold. Slip, sliding away on my walkway will put a snicker on anyone's face.

A cold snap is not a rare occurrence in the six-state region. Winters are more famous than Gov. Paul LePage's outbursts in the Pine Tree State. Laborers make a living off the white stuff and bone-chilling temperatures.

A good deal of Maine's economy thrives on winter. The ski industry lives and dies with snowfall amounts. Snowmobiliers need a strong snow pack to race their loud half tracks on miles of trails through the backwoods of Maine.

Without snow and this tricky climate, well, Maine wouldn't be Maine.

But the Arctic air mass has modified, and on Saturday, it reached 20 degrees, making me wonder if I could slip in an afternoon swim at Popham Beach. By Tuesday, New England is looking at temps in the 30s - a heatwave for all of us wearing long underwear.

My son is a ski patrol candidate at Lost Valley. For seven hours, Anthony, an all-weather kid who loves the Great Outdoors, patrolled the slopes, making sure Lost Valley was safe for democracy in frigid temperatures.

As I proudly watched Anthony meander down the course to make sure all skiers were safely down off the mountain before it closed, it's didn't seem so cold outside anymore.

Waiting for winter; Shopping and swapping for skis

We had a good run this season. Now its time to replenish the soil with natural fertilizer

My majestic elm trees are bare, but their leaves live on in my garden.

AUBURN, Maine — I want to thank November for being so kind to us the last couple of days. For people who enjoy the outdoors, the warm sun was a welcome sight.

We should count our lucky stars in Maine. We didn't experience the brunt of Hurricane Sandy and last week's Nor'easter produced only a dusting of snow that melted in a cold rain that same day.

November is a bipolar month. When it comes to warm and cold weather, November can go either way without a day's notice. 

Veterans Day was cloudy but warm on Sunday. Monday turned out to be bright and warmer. But I know what lies ahead, and there won't be a day at the beach until May.

I have seen Thanksgivings so cold that the skin on my face felt like a sheet of ice. And then there are those rare Thanksgivings when all you needed was a sweater to watch a Turkey Day football game at Paul Revere Stadium in Revere, Mass.

But I will give thanks to two spectacular days for giving me the opportunity to vacuum up the leaves with my Craftsman-built lawnmower and get the garden ready for next season.

I will never understand homeowners who spend days raking leaves when all you really have to do is mulch the stuff with a good lawnmower. Your lawn will appreciate it.

Cutting the lawn one more time meant I could cover and preserve the topsoil in the garden with mulched leaves and grass clippings. The winter will take care of all this mulch, pulverizing it into a sloppy mess over the course of the next five months. 

All this slop adds up to free fertilizer, courtesy of Mother Nature, who is a woman only a  gardener could love.

Shop and swap

Buying skis is a big-bucks purchase. It is right up there with buying a refrigerator or washer. 

My son, Anthony, is a ski patroller at Lost Valley in Auburn. I am proud of him and I like the company he keeps on the slopes. This select group of skiers are responsible for making sure all skiers are safe on the mountain.

Of course, I am on a budget. And the economy still resembles the aftermath of being hit by tsunami. So there's not a lot of cash on hand.

But despite our finances, Anthony still needed skis. We turned to the Auburn Ski Association's Ski Swap, which was held at Auburn Middle School on Sunday. We figured the Swap might just prevent us from taking a third mortgage on the house.

It was packed with skiers looking for a good deal. I had my check book in my hand as I prayed for a  bargain to come my way.

It did!

From out of the blue came Bob Sullivan — avid skier and all-around nice guy with the patience of a saint.

Mr. Sullivan has the knowledge of Olympian Jean-Claude Killy when it comes to ski equipment.

He found us skis, poles, boots and gloves ($212.00 total) we could afford, allowing us to outfit Anthony without forcing us to turn to a life of crime. We also sold a pair of skis for $57.00 at the Swap, knocking down our bill.

We live in difficult times, but Mr. Sullivan made it easier for this family of three to swing such a big purchase.

His help will keep Anthony on the slopes and us out of the poor house.

Thank you, sir.

Turning 16, a visit to Boothbay, and few odds and ends

BOOTHBAY, Maine — My son, an avid map reader who has no use for GPS, called the shots from the back seat of our Ford Escape and kept his old man from driving his rig into the Atlantic Ocean.

Boothbay Harbor is connected by a hub of winding, snug roads that surround cozy coves, which offer panoramic views of the ocean. It is a great destination to visit if you want to leave the real world behind for a day or two. 

Sure, the specialty shops are special, and yes, we bought shirts with Boothbay plastered on them and a magnet to join the rest of our rag-tag collection on the refrigerator, but the area's beauty and sweet-smelling sea breezes rejuvenate the soul.

The big draw for us was a book store and a coffee cafe located in the center of town. We don't own E-readers. We enlighten ourselves the old fashion way by reading books. Anthony found the section about Maine's coast and purchased "Storms and Shipwrecks of New England." His passion for ships and New England's coastline began long ago and continues to this day. Our passion for coffee, especially dark roast, never wanes.

I was fortunate to be at the helm with a capable co-pilot, Terri, and our young navigator as I maneuvered our wagon through those charming, narrow streets. My son has been reading maps ever since he opened a book, and he doesn't depend on a computer to find his way in the world.

Anthony turns 16 on Sunday. That's a big deal for all of us who love him. 

That's why heading to Boothbay to celebrate his birthday was a treat for all of us.

At this point in his life, he is right on target to make something of himself in this upside-down world. He has made it easy for us — so far — and I am proud of him for being a great student and a kind and caring human being.

And we are lucky he still wants to hang around with his parents on long trips. But we do make a good team on those endless drives to somewhere.

After trudging through downtown and weaving in and out of stores, we had enough and wanted to see those out-of-the way places where the crowds don't go.

We took a breather at the Flagship Inn's pool to unwind from our journey before Anthony, guide and adventurer, got a hold of a map and planned our itinerary.

Of course, hunger was at the top of our to-do list. Restaurants are expensive, but I had a hankering for fresh haddock. Anthony called out directions as I kept my eyes on these narrow avenues. We arrived at Robinson's Wharf - a seafood restaurant, pub and a fish market all rolled into one location. It is a spacious eatery that offers indoor and outdoor seating, and of course, fresh fish. The huge widows offer a spectacular view of an inlet. We chose to sit inside after noticing a huge thunderstorm was about to batter the tiny cove. Nature's fireworks outside the big picture windows provided the entertainment to go along with our small talk at the dinner table.

We all had haddock sandwiches and tasty fries before heading for another destination - Bartlett Park on the other side of Boothbay. It is another one of Boothbay's many gems that is next to, you guessed it, another cove. The park is a spacious sanctuary that provides visitors with breathtaking views of the ocean. It is quiet, clean and great place to read a book.

I wanted to pitch a tent, put up a hammock and become a squatter for life

But we had to return to Auburn because I don't own a bank (license to steal). But there was another reason to return home - Anthony's birthday.

Terri and I can't believe this 6-foot-1 monster, who consumes gallons of milk each week and has the undying gratitude of dairy farmers across New England, is about to celebrate his 16th birthday.

Just another milestone for a son who, like all teens, is a work in progress.

But aren't we all at any age?

Going to the Dogs

PORTLAND, Maine -- Actor Humphrey Bogart once said that: "A hot dog at the ball park tastes better than a steak at the Ritz."

There's a lot of truth in Bogie's homespun philosophy. No matter if you are attending a game at Fenway Park or Hadlock Field, hot dogs are a sumptuous treat behind home plate.

Last Saturday, the Sea Dogs, Maine's finest, pulled out a 4-3 victory against the Trenton Thunder. 

My wife celebrated with a hot dog. Anthony chose pizza. My, my, my, how times have changed. Pizza at a ball park!

What would Bogie say?

No secret to his success

Anthony made honors, copped the freshmen Citizen's Award at Edward Little and passed his Outdoor Emergency Care course to inch closer to becoming a member of the Ski Patrol Team at Lost Valley in Auburn.

All I can do now is just stay out of his way as he moves through this world with courage, grace and humility.

Another friend leaves us

Quentin Curtis was a gentle and thoughtful neighbor who took a sincere interest in our son. Seven years ago, we lived on Coburn Street when Quentin introduced himself. He served his country, and like many military men, he joined the U.S. Post Office after his stint in the service.

He loved the game of baseball and often visited the Red Sox during spring training. I still have a signed autographed picture from Bob Feller. The late, great pitcher addressed a photo depicting Babe Ruth holding Feller's bat to my son. 

Mr. Curtis was always looking out for my boy, and to this day the guitar given to my son by Quentin sits in our picture room and a toddler's chair is still in our cellar.

Two treasured possessions I will never give up. They will always remind me of a kind man who had it right when it comes to being a genuine human being.

Burn factor

We were heading home through Lewiston when I thought I saw a dark storm cloud off in the distance. But it proved to be thick smoke billowing from a fire ravaging a huge apartment building located in the Little Canada section of Lewiston.

We took a few detours to get home, but I couldn't help think about the unfortunate souls who lost everything in the fire.

It also reminded me of just how lucky I am.

B

Around the horn

FROZEN FALLS: Snow covers the rocks around the Androscoggin Falls.

AUBURN, Maine - If Congress decides to pull the plug on the federal government this Friday, I was hoping all senators and representatives would also go without a paycheck and give their constituents a respite from long-winded speeches and empty promises.

But I found out that the Keystone Cops (Congress) are deemed essential personnel and will still be cut a check each week.

The only good news about keeping our foolish and fearless leaders on the payroll is that it will prevent triggering sobbing episodes from Speaker of the House John Boehner, who could also shed tears during hilarious episodes of the "Three Stooges."

After four years of unemployment, an economy that continues to run on empty, and conflicts galore, which we can't keep our dirty paws off of, Congress will still get paid even though these guys have done will little to right this sinking ship.

If Boehner wants throw open the spigots, he should take a look at all the foreclosed homes, boarded-up businesses and the rising gas and food prices as the American middle class evaporates right in front of his water-filled eyes.

Now that is something cry about.

Here at home

Over the last two days, central Maine took another whooping from Mother Nature. Auburn received 12 inches of snow and the cold winds continue to howl and frustrate even the most hardy Mainers, who want to see Old Man Winter go away.

SNOWBOUND: Anthony lurks behind this mountain of snow.

For snowmobiliers and skiers, another blanket of snow is just what winter lovers ordered after nearly two weeks of sun and frigid temperatures.

For my son, it was an opportunity to job shadow members of the Lost Valley ski patrol team on Saturday after Old Man Winter laid down a fresh blanket of snow. Should he decide to pursue becoming a member of the ski team next season, he will have to take an EMT (Emergency Medical Training) this summer.

So far he is sold on the idea.

Happy trails to you

For the past two weeks, all was quiet in western Maine. That lull coaxed us into believing the walkways around the Androscoggin River were free of ice.

SNOWY OUTLOOK: Anthony checks out the winter scene.

But one look around and we discovered the a few days of warm weather and a stronger sun could not melt away the ice that covered the walkways.

The Androscoggin River walkway is about a mile around and then there is the falls, which is sort of like a mini Niagara Falls. The falls during the spring is something to behold. When the snow melts and April showers move in, the falls roar and can be quite impressive.

Before heading on the pedestrian trail, take a small hike up near the falls and stand on the platform and hear the roar of the falls and feel its fine mist

The walk will take you past Festival and Bonney parks where you will cross the river over a trestle bridge, which gives an eye-opening view of the river. After crossing, you can head over to Railroad Park and head back to the bridge that separates Lewiston and Auburn.

All we could do is admire the slow-running falls and we eventually walked back to the car and head to the gym.

And after the last snowstorm and an ice storm on deck for Monday, we will have to wait until the end of march to take a spin around the Androscoggin.

Hitting the slopes

 

"Skiing is a dance, and the mountain always leads." 

                                                                 Author Unknown

AUBURN, Maine — He's tried his hand at baseball, kicked around a soccer ball, ran track one summer, swam miles in an Olympic-size pool without drowning, but when my son slipped on a pair of skis and raced down white powdery slopes, he found another passion in the dead of winter on a wind-swept, snow-covered mountain.

Where did I go wrong!

Who would have figured my lanky 14 year old would rather barrel down the side of a frigid mountain than play catch or toss around the old pigskin with his dear-old dad.

Just what the heck happened here, anyway? He is about to become a ski bum. Fellow skiers will start calling him DUDE! I will continue to address him as Anthony even though he is joining the high-flyin' clan at Dude World.

He had to go and choose one of the most expensive outdoor sports, where snow, wind and cold wreak havoc on a soul. Paying for swimming lessons is like a drop in the bucket compared to buying a season pass and skis. I am a cash-strapped dad who will need to apply for a second mortgage on my house to pay for his need for speed on winter-whipped days. Track and swimming require shorts, sneakers and goggles. All you need for baseball is a glove, ball and bat. Soccer is easy on the wallet, too.

Most sane people remain indoors when Old Man Winter gets his dander up, but my son ignores Arctic blasts from Canada and heads up the mountain despite bone-chilling cold and falling snow. He is like "Jeremiah Johnson" and "Grizzly Adams" all rolled into one when it comes to the Great Outdoors - and I love him for his tenacity when it comes to his love of nature.

I watch from the huge windows at Lost Valley as he waves from the lift. My heart is my mouth when he takes that slow ride to the top. We both understand there is a great deal of risk that comes with gliding through the snow on a pair of skis. There is danger in this sport, and people have been injured on the slopes around the world.

I worry, but I am so damn proud of him. I believe it takes a certain amount of courage and insanity to speed down a mountain on two narrow skis. 


Just standing on skis without crashing to the ground is an accomplishment for me.

But how can I say no to an honor student who prefers books to video games and the vast wasteland of television. I would rather see him doing laps in a warm pool. Watching him whizzing around snow-packed slopes on cold winter days gives me the chills.

I know he still enjoys swimming, but skiing is now a part of his life, and I would rather see him criss-cross the slopes than have a joy stick in his lap and eyes trained on a video game. There is also a risk when a precious child spends hours in front of a computer monitor and ignores his parents and the outdoors.

I am betting the entire family will become nomads in the winter, spending a lot of time at lodges around Maine next season. But while he skis, I will be traipsing around the base of the mountain on snowshoes.

I can't let him have all the fun - and snowshoeing will help me keep my mind off my son as he traverses the snowy slopes.