A reminder from winter

Snow provokes responses that reach right back to childhood.

Andy Goldsworthy

AUBURN, Maine — We have felt like the prisoners of Zenda for the past 14 hours as a blizzard sputtered in the Gulf of Maine and pummeled the Pine Tree State with more than two feet of snow in some areas.

We got tired of looking at each other. We eventually found something to do as the winds howled outside and the snow piled up.

We were inmates in our home and wondered if the warden ordered a lockdown because Mother Nature dished out a can of whoop ass to the good folks of Maine. The streets are deserted and remain impassable — unless you are driving bulldozer. Only a fool would take a chance at getting behind of the wheel of a car during this stubborn storm.

It is now 7 p.m. Eastern Standard Time and the snow is still whipping around thanks to 35-mile per hour winds that built tall drifts that resemble mountain range on my street.

The snow plows have made several passes and a few of the behemoths came to sudden stop when they hit a wall of snow.

Lucky New York City! The Big Apple was spared and weathermen are issuing mea culpas as I write, but the rest of New England took one in the kisser.

My stalwart son and I decided to brave the icy wind and grab a shovel to clear the walkway to the front door of our snow-white home.

Before we stepped outside, we pried open the door, which was barricaded by two feet of frigging snow. Stepping outside and into the wind felt like a fusillade of glass shards, giving us second thoughts, but the walkway couldn’t wait, especially if we wanted our a mail and the paper.

For nearly 30 minutes, we were like a pair of jackhammers whacking away at two feet of the white stuff. The cold reminded us that we belonged inside our toasty home.

The snow on the walkway was as tall as the Great Wall of China. I thought about a stick of dynamite to blast an opening to the street, but explosives would make everybody nervous.

But we were so close to a breakthrough that we kept shoveling until we made it to the street.

Today was a “potato, corn and shrimp chowder” day, which took the chill out of bones and triggered several boyhood memories.

Tall tales

For the past 14, hours, Anthony endured stories of the Blizzard of 1978 — a storm that knocked Boston and surrounding communities on its asses for two weeks.

Of course, this was the perfect time to bore my son with tall tales of a snowstorm that nearly snuffed out the Blasi family.

Despite his annoying looks, I reeled off snippets of the greatest storm in my lifetime. Thanks to the snow, there was no place for him to hide.

It was Feb. 6, and there was that quiet that is familiar to any coming New England storm. You know you are in harm’s way when everything goes silent and the skies slowly darken.

The blizzard plowed into the Massachusetts’ coastline late in the morning. I sat in my parents’ cozy cellar listening to a Boston AM station — WRKO. I soon switched to WBZ when the flakes started falling. At first, the weatherman called for 6 to 12 inches. Two hours later, the snow totals began to rise: 12 to 16; 18-24; 25-30 inches.

They weren’t wrong. The storm stalled off the coast and delivered snow that shut down the Greater Boston area. Cars and trucks were stopped in their tracks on Routes 128 and 1. People lived in their cars for hours before help came.

Thirty six hours later and there was over two feet of snow on the ground. My Uncle Tony could not leave his house and my grandmother’s home next door became impregnable thanks that to huge drifts that reached the rooftop of her home.

Our first priority was getting to my uncle’s home. It took four men and over an hour to get  to Uncle Tony’s front door. Mr. Martinetti — a big man with powerful arms — was like Big Bad John slinging iron in a coal mine.

I was an 18-year-old who shoveled for the eight hours that day, helping 17 relatives clear the snow from their driveways on McClure Street. For two weeks, Revere High School was shutdown because it became an emergency shelter. Loud U.S. Army Huey helicopters landed all over the city and a handful of tanks roamed the streets. Revere was now under martial law after Revere Beach became flooded during the height of the storm. It was intimidating to see an armed National Guard patrolling the main streets of Revere.

For an entire week, people were forced to walk every where. No vehicles were not allowed on the road. Bread and milk were scarce for a few days because of panicked people making food runs.

But everybody helped out despite the snow and cold.

Months later, when I began a small landscaping service to pay for college, I mowed lawns along Revere’s coastline that sweet summer. I soon discovered hardened star fish and other marine life being broken apart by my lawnmower. These were the yards that were flooded by the rising tide during the Blizzard of 1978.

Sometimes it takes a storm — and home-made chowder — to bring calm and allow us to look back those special moments of our past.

Philadelphia Freedom, final insallment

"Do not follow where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.” 

– Ralph Waldo Emerson

PHILADELPHIA/GETTYSBURG ― We stood on the deck of Admiral George Dewey's flagship, the U.S.S. Olympia, went below on the submarine U.S.S. Becuna, paid our respects to Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell, and walked on hallowed ground at Gettysburg.

We traveled 1,200 miles in four days, and along the way, we met people from all walks of life and walked the streets of a world-class city ― Philadelphia ― the Cradle of Liberty. Gettysburg was worth the 264-mile roundtrip from our hotel in Philly. You don't realize the scope of the battlefields until you take a car tour of sacred ground that is lined with cannon and monuments honoring those who gave the "last full measure of devotion" during a three-day battle that would become the turning point of the Civil War.

We left town for four glorious days to see this nation, and we discovered America still has a lot going for it ― despite a U.S. Congress that is pathetic at best. Jefferson would probably call for another revolution if he saw these clowns in action. What would Ben Franklin say? I bet he would give those 535 bozos an earful and their walking papers. Fellow revolutionary Thomas Paine would have taken advantage of the Internet and fired off a blog demanding an end to Congress's stupidity, never mind its tyranny. But Paine would find instilling "Common Sense" in the minds of this governing body futile.

We felt privileged to visit the stomping grounds our nation's forefathers. Philadelphia, Penn's Landing, the Ben Franklin Bridge and the Delaware River are something to behold. But unlike George Washington, this family crossed the Delaware in a red, rented Chevy Impala, which surprisingly offered a lot of leg room for this 6-foot-3 father.

We immediately developed a kinship with the City of Brotherly Love. I grew up three miles from Boston. I could throw a rock at the Tobin Bridge from my home in Revere. Beantown played a pivotal role in the American Revolution. There were three key events that occurred in Massachusetts: The Tea Party raid (not those rascals who pretend to be Republicans), the Boston Massacre and Paul Revere's ride, and let us not forget the "Shot Heard Round the World" in Concord, Mass.

The rest of this article is broken down into a series of briefs about our excursion through six states.

The Road not taken

Before we plotted our course, we read maps to find the quickest route to Philly, and scoured the Net to find room and board at a reasonable price. We decided a GPS would not be essential. I had one of the best navigators on board― my son, Anthony, who has been studying maps since he was 10. He directed me from the back seat of our rental to the exact point of our destination ― the Wyndham Philadelphia Historic District. We got the room for $95 a night in the heart of Philly's historic sites thanks to Priceline.com. To us, it was a five-star hotel that put us in walking distance of Independence Hall, Penn's Landing and the Liberty Bell, and as an added bonus, an open-air pool on the eighth floor. What a way to view the city's skylines and order drinks with little umbrellas in them.

We thought the best route to follow was to take Interstate 95 South through Maine and then pick up 495 South to the Massachusetts Turnpike. Just before we headed into Springfield, Mass., we turned south on I-84 and raced across Connecticut to pick up I-95 again. We slugged our way through heavy traffic on the Bronx Expressway. We cut through New York City and crossed the George Washington Bridge. From there, we headed down the New Jersey Turnpike. Drivers on this six-lane horror show are like Jedi Knights zipping in out of traffic at supersonic speeds. I feared for our lives as Luke Skywalker wannabes sped past us.

A Bridge Too Far

Crossing the George Washington Bridge

After spending nearly five hours traveling through Maine, Massachusetts and Connecticut, we picked up I-95 again just outside Stamford. Before we reached the George Washington Bridge, we waded through a traffic jam on the Bronx Expressway. The GW was under going repairs and drivers were paying the price. When you see the GW in person, you will be in awe of this engineering feat. Thousands of automobiles pass over this super structure that crosses the Hudson River. The toll won't put a dent in your pocket, but it will make your jaw drop when you shell out $13 to cross the Hudson. The GW was completed in 1931. The toll is a small amount to pay to pass over this behemoth and an opportunity to take a quick glance at a metropolis ― New York City.

The Ben Franklin Bridge

We crossed many small bridges in our travels, but besides the GW Bridge, two are really unforgettable. Tourists must cross the Ben Franklin Bridge (completed in 1926) for $5 to get to Philadelphia, but it is another modern marvel and gives you a wonderful view of the city's tall buildings. The Susquehanna River Bridge is special because it crosses that mighty river. We raced over it on our way to Gettysburg.

Walking distance

Staying at the Wyndham hotel turned out to be a wise decision, not because of the price, either. The building was smack dab in the middle of everything we wanted to see. Driving in downtown Philly would make any Mainer long for the empty back roads of the Pine Tree State.

Good food at Philadelphia's Bourse

The first thing we did after our arrival was visit and dine at the Bourse, which means a place of exchange. It is a tall, red building that features stores and several places to sample's Philly's food, although I refused to try a Philly cheese stake. These three hungry souls ate at the Liberty Chicken where a kind, elderly gentleman served three weary travelers just before the Bourse closed. It was a scrumptious meal. The Bourse is similar to Faneuil Hall in Boston, but is unique in its own way.

The next day, we fanned out all over downtown Philadelphia. We were just a block away from Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell, but before we dropped in on those two historic sites, we visited Ben Franklin's grave. He lies just behind the Wyndham hotel. There is a tradition of putting pennies on Franklin's grave. Franklin often said: "A penny saved is a penny earned." Terri gave more than just a couple of pennies after change went flying from her open purse. I bet old Ben didn't mind a bit.

Inside Independence Hall

After paying our respects to Mr. Franklin, we marched off to the Independence Visitors Center to pick up tickets for a tour of Independence Hall. We were going to visit the Liberty Bell first, but fire alarms went off and we were forced to evacuate the building. But we did get our tickets and headed over to Independence Hall. A U.S. Park Service guide gave visitors a lecture about the hall and the signers of the Declaration of Independence. Walking through these halls and realizing 56 men committed treason when they signed that document gave me a greater appreciation of their determination. They were from different backgrounds with one cause in mind ― establishing a government where all men are created equal. Many of them paid a heavy price after making a commitment to create a new nation. A few signers were tortured by the British and others lost their wealth after the war and died in poverty. They were amazing men with a vision that came to fruition because of their unwavering commitment, devotion and sacrifice.

We made a change of plans and walked down Pierce Street toward Penn's Landing, which is the waterfront area of Philadelphia and named after the founder of Pennsylvania ― William Penn. 

Before we arrived at Penn's Landing, we toured Carpenter's Hall, which was the meeting place for the first Continental Congress. It is like many brownstones in the historic district, and inside, it is an elegant building with high ceilings.

Inside the Independence Seaport Museum

Our next stop was a stroll to the Delaware River and tour the Independence Seaport Museum and the Spanish-American War-ear cruiser U.S.S. Olympia and World War II-submarine U.S.S. Becuna, which are docked next the Seaport Museum that maintains these two sea-going titans. If you are fascinated with maritime history and sea exploration, the museum's numerous exhibits will expand your knowledge and satisfy your curiosity.

Inside the torpedo room of the U.S.S. Becuna

Anthony's passion for ships and the Maritimes started when he was two years old. He sparked a dream to stand on the decks of the Olympia. His fascination with this pre-dreadnaught U.S. warship has been inspiring. He even built of a model of Dewey's ship. After a long lunch at the Marriott, we headed out in the summer heat. The temperature was hovering around an unbearable 96 degrees. Most of the Northeast was simmering in an unrelenting heat wave. We boarded the Becuna in the searing sun and went below. It was cooler in the submarine, but squeezing through doorways that measured three-and-half feet was excruciating for a man of my size, but seeing the torpedo and engine room made all that deep-knee bending worth it. I will never understand how they get fine men and women to go down in those iron monsters. The narrow openings made me feel like mashed tuna in a can.

An hour later and we climbed aboard the U.S.S. Olympia ― Admiral George Dewey's flagship during the battle of Manilla Bay where his fleet wiped out the Spanish navy. This American cruiser is not a replica, but an actually seagoing piece of history that survives to this day. The museum does a commendable job keeping this ship float. It takes a great deal of money to prevent this wonderful piece of America's history from being scraped or moved to another part of the nation.

What makes this ship unique is its luxurious inside, with its mahogany walls and elegant furniture. Today's warships feature spartan rooms. Dewey travelled in style on his protected cruiser, which is armed with four eight-inch and several five-inch guns and other small armaments. During the battle of Manilla, Dewey uttered the famous phrase, "You may fire when you are ready, Gridley."

Anthony and I often talked about visiting the Olympia. For several years, it was only a dream, but on July 16 a father and son strolled its decks and photographed every inch of this heroic protected cruiser. Some dreams do come true, and I was fortunate to tour this vessel with my son.

We saluted Dewey's ship and left Penn's Landing in dangerous heat. It was a mile back to the hotel, but at the risk of suffering of heat stroke, we hailed a cab. We caught a driver's attention and he pulled over to pick up three sweaty tourists. Our driver was a man named Ali who was originally from Pakistan. He was pleasant and accommodating. 

"I was hesitant to stop," said Ali. 

"It was written," I told him. We both laughed.

We arrived at the hotel. I told Ali was I grateful that he stopped to give us a lift.

"You are a very entertaining man and you have a lovely family," Ali said.

"That bought you a really good tip," I said.

"Thank you. You are kind," Ali said.

We took a dip in the pool before he headed out for the evening to visit a cosmetic store for Terri and then find the SS United States, the largest passenger ship ever built in this country. It was constructed in 1952. The United States could also be converted to a troop ship in time of war. It is now docked in Philadelphia where money is being raised to restore this monstrosity. And there it was, towering over buildings and looking pretty beat up.

We found the makeup store after an hour search in the financial district. From there, we drove back to Penn's Landing and travelled along the waterfront to find the United States. We took pictures of the beat-up ship that carried celebrities around the world during its heyday. It is one big bastard, and I think worth preserving.

"The last full measure of devotion."

It wasn't a last-minute decision. We visited Philadelphia knowing we would spend an entire day on the battlefields of Gettysburg. We were only 132 miles from that city that is nestled in the Allegheny Mountains. I consider Anthony an authority on this epic, three-day battle even though he is a junior in high school. We have watched "Gettysburg" a number of times. But staring out over those open fields and knowing that men on both sides faced withering gunfire and cannon made me realize that no history lesson can bring to life the horror and slaughter that soldiers confronted on the battlefield.

We travelled along the Pennsylvania Turnpike and passed through Lancaster, also know as Amish Country. My wife has a fascination with the Amish, which I can't explain.

Before you make numerous stops on the tour, tourists should check in at the Gettysburg National Military Park Museum and Visitor Center to get your bearings and put a dent in your wallet at the gift shop. But it is worth forking over the $50 to see "A New Birth of Freedom," narrated actor Morgan Freeman, and the Gettysburg Cyclorama, which is a huge, circular painting of Pickett's Charge.

We took the car tour and made dozens of stops to read the monuments, which included a huge stone figure that marked the spot where Union Gen. John Reynolds fell after being killed by a Confederate sniper We climbed two observatories that overlook the battlefields in the intense heat. Little and Big Roundtop are clearly visible from one of these towering, iron platforms. But if you hate climbing stairs in the summer heat, you might be better off keeping your feet on the ground and remain in an air-conditioned car.

This family from Maine visited Little Roundtop where Maine Congressional Medal Honor Winner Gen. Joshua Chamberlain and the 20th Maine turned away the Rebels with a bayonet charge with empty muskets. The 20th was out of ammunition but would not reliquish the high ground and allow the Rebs to sweep around the Union lines. Chamberlain was also a four-term governor of the Pine Tree State and president of Bowdoin College. His home is in Brunswick, Maine, and is still open to the public. Visiting Little Roundtop meant running into Maine Gov. Paul LePage. Go figure! He was there, along a group of servicemen, honoring the 20th Maine, but one of the soldiers did thank us from coming all the way from the Pine Tree State to honor Chamberlain's heroes.

We spent six hours at the park, but I believe it really takes an entire day to appreciate what transpired at Gettysburg.

The voyage home

It was difficult leaving Pennsylvania, but we accomplished an objective to visit the Olympia and Gettysburg. I often thought of my mother as we passed through the Allegheny Mountains. My mom spent many summers in Waterford, Penn. I am lucky I had two fine people to tour Philadelphia. We raced home and stopped off to visit my sister in central Massachusetts. Nothing like a home-cooked meal and a visit with family to give us a much-needed break from all that driving.

I guess I would suggest to all Americans, especially this Congress, to visit Philly, stand on the decks of the U.S.S. Olympia, wander Independence Hall and take a picture beside the Liberty Bell. 

Why? 

These national treasures are reminders of a nation that was created when 56 remarkable men demonstrated their audacity and courage to create a better world for the greater good and go on to forge the greatest living document in the world ― the United States Constitution. Like our Constitution, America is still and always be a work in progress.

And to think all it took was a 1,200-mile road trip and an opportunity to rock the Cradle of Liberty to remind ourselves that we are indeed a nation of hope.

Getting soaked on this deal

AUBURN, Maine - For the moment, my vegetable garden no longer looks like the wetlands of the Louisiana Bayou. The wind-swept monsoons that washed out roads and flooded neighborhoods along of the state's overflowing rivers have abated.

The deluge began Saturday evening and didn't stop for nearly 24 hours.  But on-and-off heavy showers continue to make life dismal and damp for most of Maine. So far, nearly seven inches of rain have soaked the Pine Tree State. According to meteorologists, the rain won't fade away until Wednesday.

The Androscoggin River continues to swell, causing Great Falls to erupt with tons of water. The shallow banks along the river are disappearing as visitors brave the rain to snap shots or film the fast-moving water.

But who knows how long my garden will last in a nasty storm with no ending. And I will probably be mowing my lawn every 48 hours for the rest of the summer to keep it from growing like the Mekong jungle.

Weathermen saw this one coming last week when they began talking about a blocking high pressure system and a stationary low. I knew what that meant. That's when I went into a deep depression and began cursing Mother Nature's unkindness toward gardeners and farmers. It seems the old lady is always out to get us.

Every summer, this disheartening and plant-killing weather combination appears and makes me want throw in my hoe and shovel and plant grass instead of vegetables.

But I might have done something really smart to prevent a bunch of casualties in my underwater vegetable garden.

After cutting the lawn a couple of days before this soaker ravaged the state, I placed thick piles of grass clippings around my plants, and this may have absorbed the water and helped with the drainage in my garden.

Of course, a week of bright sunshine would be a welcomed sight for all green thumbs who have had their fingers crossed during these relentless downpours.

After all, we are the folks who bring good food to life.