A fine how do you do from Old Man Winter

"Maine is a joy in the summer. But the soul of Maine is more apparent in the winter." 

Paul Theroux

 AUBURN — Winter left its calling card two days before the new year arrived.

Old Man Winter wanted to assure residents of New England that he was still in the neighborhood and doesn’t like to be forgotten.

The weather guys and gals got this wrong again, but that is nothing new when it comes to Maine’s fickle forecasters.

Of course, weather reports varied just like Trump’s inane Tweets. We were on the receiving end of 19 whopping inches of snow in western Maine. It took 15 minutes with two guys (me and my son) manning  shovels to clear the walkway to the street.

It is miserable, heavy snow that puts your heart through a stress test.

But, and I hate to say this, we needed the white stuff after a summer drought that I had never witnessed in my lifetime.

For the morons who don’t believe in global warming, it was the hottest year ever on the planet, and if we continue to treat the globe like a toilet, watch Florida disappear thanks to rising tides due to a melting polar ice cap. I can’t fix stupid and I fear for the environment when an uninformed and inept presidency is sworn in at the White House on Jan. 20.

China is creating 10 miles of desert each year because of its neglect of its natural resources. You have to ask yourself what is the sense of being an economic powerhouse if a nation can’t drink its water due to rampant pollution. I guess having a fat wallet can justify ignorance.

Anyway, enjoy the snow and Old Man Winter’s chilly touch as we head into another year.

Going on holiday and a lost gift from the past is discovered

“Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before! What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store. What if Christmas...perhaps...means a little bit more!” 

― Dr. Seuss, How the Grinch Stole Christmas!

REVERE, Mass. — Blame it on the warm weather for my Christmas cheer and indomitable holiday spirit.

A week and half ago, we traveled Revere to celebrate the Yuletide with family and friends. It was the first Christmas I didn’t have to cook. I had become a man of leisure — at least for two days —and could enjoy the holiday without slaving over a hot stove.

You see, I didn't just survive the holidays. I enjoyed them for the first in a long time. Now I embrace the mayhem and the insanity that goes along with Christmas and Thanksgiving. I guess I always enjoyed the madness.

We left cloudy and cool Maine, and by the time we approached the Massachusetts coast on Christmas Eve, the warm embrace of a shining sun and a warm sea breeze greeted us.

The temperature rose to 70 degrees in the dead of a New England December. There have been warm Christmases in the past, but this was beach weather. It was astounding — and unheard of at this time of year. The warm sun put everybody in a good mood and the thought of

dreaming of a white Christmas would end up being an ordinary nightmare.

Before we checked into our room at the Red Roof Inn in Saugus, Mass., we had lunch with a generous cop friend of mine at the Prince Pizzeria on Route 1. The restaurant features a huge replica of the Leaning Tower of Pisa, only it is spelled pizza. My father took us there years ago, and of course, the fading memories of my parents suddenly became clear as we seated ourselves to feast on fried calamari and chicken wings.

After a small meal and trading tales about the old neighborhood, my friend and I parted company. We checked into our room at the motel before we made the three-mile ride to Revere.

We visited my uncle before we touched down at my sister’s three-story home, where 25 family members and friends waited to devour a 20-course meal complete with shrimp linguini and succulent stuffed mushrooms. The difficult part of my visit with relatives is glancing at our family home, which was sold eight months ago after my father died. It is next to my uncle’s house. When I stood before Al and Louise’s house, a house that once provided shelter to a loving family of six, I wanted to see my dad part the curtains at the picture window and beckon us to come inside to see mom, but my parents are gone.

The curtains were closed, anyway, and the my parents’ home, a loving, a modest home that was built in 1966, was occupied by new owners.

I turned and headed for the car, vowing not to spoil the holiday with my brief bout of melancholy.

I arrived at my sister’s home and was given a hero’s welcome. My mood improved with each hug I received from family members.

We ate, drank and we were merry despite the loss of loved ones, but I swear the warm weather helped us all feel better. We held a Yankee swap on my sister’s deck Christmas Eve. Nobody wore a jacket as a full Christmas moon appeared and lit up the yuletide sky. It was like a late spring day in the Greater Boston area.

A gift from the past

The kitchen table in any Italian home is a meeting place for the family. That was true for our clan as well.

After my parents passed, we divided up everything, including the Christmas decorations last April. When we decorated our tree and hung my parents decorations at my home, we discovered a Christmas ornament that my parents never gave their niece.

We gathered around at my sister’s home and presented our niece with the intended gift from her grandmother. I don’t know why the holiday ornament remained in a box downstairs in my parents’ home for the past 27 years. Perhaps, my mom forgot or she was waiting to give it to her niece at the right moment. The small mystery didn’t matter. The ornament has been delivered 27 years later.

Maybe, that small reminder of my parents was our small Christmas miracle this season. We certainly needed one after losing so many important people in our lives.

Christmas by the beach

Imagine walking the beach on Christmas day in spring-like temperatures with NO snow on the ground!

We checked out early and headed to Revere Beach, where the temperature was a balmy 65 degrees Christmas morning. Runners and bikers dressed in T-shirts and shorts wished us a Merry Christmas as they raced by on the boulevard. We spent over an hour walking on the sand and marveling at the warm temperatures. Winter set up shop by Thanksgiving and last Christmas was bleak and cold.

The walk, the sound of the waves and salt air presented us with Christmas morning that we would never be forgotten.

My mother loved the beach and my parents would buy coffee and sit on the wall during warm summer nights and chilly autumn days.

I felt them both in my heart this holiday. They were right there with us as we briskly walked along the sandy New England beach. My parents gave me life and a lifetime of love, and my sweet memories of them keep me going through each season of our lives.

Perhaps Christmas also serves to remind us of what is truly important in our lives.

Stargazing and giving a terrorism a run for its money

"The Earth is just too small and fragile a basket for the human race to keep all its eggs in."

                                                                                                                                — Robert Heinlein

"Terrorism is the tactic of demanding the impossible, and demanding it at gunpoint."

                                                                                                                           — Christopher Hitchens

AUBURN — Call us a couple of nerdy stargazers who enjoy scanning the universe for things that go bump in the dark skies above the Pine Tree State.

Actually, don't use the word nerdy when addressing me or you and I will have a big problem! It could get ugly.

For the past two nights, Anthony and I bundled up and stood outside our home, patiently waiting and watching for the International Space Station to pass over New England.

We learned online that it would streak across Maine at the usual 17,500 miles per hour to remain in orbit or plummet to earth. 

We kept a vigil despite the chill in the air, waiting for that fast-moving dot in the sky to race across the darkness and thrill a father and son who never miss an opportunity to check out a man-made object traversing the heavens.

Some people say studying the stars is a straight waste of mankind's time. I say bully for NASA, which put a bunch of brave guys on the moon and brought humanity closer to understanding the universe's randomness.

We as a species have always been adventurous and have taken bold risks to see what is over the next ridge during our evolution as human beings.

Space, like the ocean, is a new frontier that must be explored or man's quest for knowledge will become stagnant. There is enlightenment in the stars and all of us should keep looking up at the vast darkness known as the universe.

My son and I stood outside with our cameras and watched in awe as the space station passed above us from a height of approximately 255 miles.

I was hoping for a shout-out from the astronauts as they raced through the night. Sure enough, the station passed over us at 7:54 Eastern Standard Time and didn't disappoint two fans on two chilly, April evenings on a quiet street in central Maine.

Giving terrorism a run for its money

No matter how hard terrorists try, they can't repress a nation that raised the bar for all of humanity when our founding fathers wrote this one sentence in the Declaration of Independence: "All men are created equal."

That one phrase is why the Boston Marathon will be held on another Patriots' Day under the watchful eyes of 3,500 law enforcement officers.

All those pathetic and misguided brothers did was make a nation stronger. What I will never understand is how two young men could target an athletic event that defines peace. Runners from every walk of life and religion come to the Bay State to compete in an event that brings people together. 

There is no question America also has a past littered with dark moments in its history, but it is a nation that tries hard and still stands as the cradle of liberty.

When the starter's gun goes off in Hopkinton on Monday morning, we will be cheering for the runners as well as for a nation and a city that hasn't missed a step in spite of an ugly act of terrorism.

Cry uncle and let slip the fiscal fools

AUBURN, Maine — I am in the process of negotiating a truce with Mother Nature. I refuse, however, to offer the Old Lady unconditional surrender.

No matter what the Old Girl has thrown at me this winter, I refuse to capitulate to this guiding force of creation. After all, the Old Gal has been more of a friend than a foe to this master gardener. Her feisty ways can make or break a garden. She was real good to me last season, allowing me to harvest nearly 300 pounds of vegetables.

But the Old Girl sure has it in for New England this winter. She backhanded us with another weekend storm that produced another foot of white gold for the skiers. 

I have really gotten to know my snow shovels and roof rake this winter. We have become close thanks to Mother Nature's winter whims. Couldn't do it without these handy tools and the generosity of several of my neighbors, who are like the Green Berets when the Old Gal lays down a barrage of heavy snow. They come heavily armed with snow blowers that move mountains of snow. In just minutes, five-foot walls of white stuff is cleared away, liberating me from shovel.

I will always be grateful to these good souls.

If it wasn't for their kindness, I would be entombed in my own backyard until spring.

The week before Mother Nature's latest production was a blizzard that dropped nearly 25 inches of snow and featured 50-mile-per-hour winds.

I don't want to jinx all of New England, but weather prognosticators are saying we should miss the next weekend snowstorm. 

I want that in writing!

But here is the trade off: Mother Nature will be serving up another snowstorm on Wednesday that might last for three days. They are talking about another foot of damn snow.

The Old Gal's fury apparently won't let up this winter.

But I am hoping the Old Lady honors our truce and goes easy on us this spring even though she has a mind of her own.

Fiscal fools

Sequester — to isolate or hide away — or a general cut in government spending.

Let's use the first definition and sequester Congress. Put them all in a convention center and keep them there until they can act like responsible adults who can make responsible decisions — and that goes for both parties.

Sure, the budget is a mess thanks to protracted wars in the Middle East and irresponsible leaders. But cutting off your nose to spite your face means a sequester might be the coup de grace to United State's fragile economy.

According to the New York Times, the sequester law requires President Obama to impose $85 billion in spending cuts to the military and domestic programs. That means federal employees would take a hit along with numerous education programs.

Just what the economy needs — more people out of work, and those job losses will cause a trickle-down effect that will be felt by all of us.

Perhaps Wednesday's next New England storm is just another omen for Friday's main event — sequester.

Trench warfare

"You don't raise heroes, you raise sons.  And if you treat them like sons, they'll turn out to be heroes, even if it's just in your own eyes."  

~Walter M. Schirra, Sr.

AUBURN, Maine — I am fortunate to have a strapping 16-year-old son who has a strong back and an admirable work ethic.

He didn't flinch when he picked up a shovel and took on Blizzard Nemo, which roared through the Northeast on Saturday. For a small fish from Disney, Nemo sure had a lot of bite, dropping over two feet of snow on most of New England. This bastard of Northeaster lived up to all the hype and buried Auburn over a period of 36 hours. Nemo rivaled the Blizzard of 1978 when Boston was shut down for weeks. 

They say snow is a poor man's fertilizer. Then I guess I am set for the upcoming growing season.

But there was no hemming and hawing from a young man who didn't mind helping his dad clear away two feet of snow from two driveways. He didn't demand money or an IPod for his services.

He did it for dear-old dad, and I was proud of him for the way he braved the elements in a storm with whiteout conditions.

Anthony is a responsible young man who went the distance for his father the day before the storm would intensify. He helped bring in a half a cord of wood so we could keep the home fires burning in the event of a power outage.

He jumped right into the fray with three neighbors who should be canonized for their help with their Tiger-tank snowblower. Dan Levesque's two sons, Ryan and Mark, are two rugged brothers who treat mountains of snow as a mere annoyance. Dan, the patriarch of this good family, is an amateur geologist who appreciates the Earth's natural artworks — rocks. His collection is something to be admired. He is a smart guy with a kind heart. God don't make 'em any better and that's a fact.

Dan and family can look forward to fresh vegetables this summer from the guy next door, and that would be me — the master gardener of Valley Street.

For two hours on a wind-whipped Saturday afternoon,  Anthony and I plowed through snowdrifts to get to the car and cleared away a five-foot drift blocking the back door to our deck.

What really unnerved father and son was a five-foot high, six-foot wide wall of snow blocking both driveways. It would take hours with two shovels, but Dan headed toward my house with his monster blower and made mince meat out of the two Great White Walls of China.

And when all of New England embraced the warm sun on Sunday, Anthony and I were back at it, borrowing through 25 inches of snow to make paths around the house. We cleared the rest of the deck and driveway as temperatures soared into the upper 30s, which is considered to be a heatwave at this time of year.

It was spectacular storm, but what was more impressive is my 16-year-old who gave his old man a helping hand without giving it a second thought.