Snow kidding - school's out

AUBURN, Maine — Kids who live in a cold-weather states, where a Nor'easter can shut down dozens of communities and send working parents into a frenzy, know all about the benefits of a treasured Snow Day.

Snow Days are unofficial holidays that interrupt the hectic pace of trudging to school and passing in homework that students didn't complete the night before because their dog ate their textbook, the cat feasted on their gerbil and made them so distraught that they couldn't concentrate on algebra, or they got lost in an in-depth conversation about Justin Bieber's hair on Facebook. Snow Days are free get-out-of-school cards that come and go during Maine's harsh winters. Snow Days are cherished by all red-blooded kids who often call up on Mother Nature to deliver them from the clutches of a demanding teacher.

Snow Days give kids a reason to put those pathetic video games away — for a moment — and actually go outside and breath real air. Sure, it's cold out there, but hours of watching television and YouTube turns brains into slush. Racing down a snow-covered hill on skis, a snowboard or a sled at 90 miles per hour is more exhilarating than texting friends to complain about taking out the garbage, shoveling or listening to their parents warning them to clean up their rooms that resemble the inside of a Porta Potties — or they won't be allowed to watch a mind-numbing reality show featuring stupid people doing stupid things to themselves.

Up here in the hinterlands of nowhere, children put themselves on full alert whenever the weatherman mentions snow. Maine kids don't want to hear about snow measured in inches; they want feet of the white stuff, and they want it during the week. Weekend snowstorms take all the fun out of a blizzard and are looked upon as an annoyance by stressed students who are looking for a way out of class — unless you are a skier who eats and sleeps snow and enjoys being up on the mountain in white-out conditions.

For kids from the Boston area, a Snow Day meant open season on MBTA buses or snowball fights that left welts on their skin from a kid who had the arm of a Major League Baseball pitcher and delivered these icy-projectiles at the speed of sound. Rugged kids would manufacture and stockpile snowballs at a blizzard's pace. They would hide behind bushes waiting to ambush an unsuspecting bus transporting worn-out workers. The kids took cover and waited for the perfect moment to strike. A dozen thuds were heard when they peppered the bus with a massive strike of snowballs as stunned and angry passengers shook their fists behind frosty windows — or offered a middle finger to demonstrate their displeasure after we bushwhacked the bus. The kids laughed and congratulated themselves on their marksmanship. The bus driver gave us all dirty looks as he waved his finger and mouthed an obscenity during his inaudible admonition behind the bus's folding doors. When police cruisers started circling the block to round up the usual suspects, we reluctantly moved on to more exciting pursuits like building intricate snow forts or shoveling out the next neighbor for a few bucks  and head to the nearest five-and-dime store to spend our riches — on junk.

For my son and me, white powder means skiing, sledding and throwing snowballs at targets of opportunity. A wave of snowballs slamming into our picture window often draws the ire of my surprised wife. We have the privilege of spending an entire day with a son who enjoys frolicking in the Great Outdoors and still takes great pleasure in pelting his dad with snowballs. A Snow Day means Noah, our next-door neighbor, will knock on the door with his saucer in tow, hoping to use the small hill in our backyard to do some serious coasting and snowboarding before he gets bored and helps me shovel the driveway.

Snow Days are respites for teachers, who also look to Mother Nature to cut them some slack and give them a break from their students. That's why all Snow Days are heralded by adults and children who believe in the rejuvenating powers of these miracle snowstorms — and a day off from the classroom.

Back in the day

If you get lucky, Snow Days can turn into Snow Weeks. It happened nearly 32 years ago when Boston took it on a chin during the Blizzard of '78 on Feb. 6 — a day that will live in infamy for snow-struck Bostonians. This monster storm parked itself off the coast of Massachusetts for 36 hours and delivered about three feet of snow in just over a day, shutting down the Hub and surrounding communities.

That morning forecasters were predicting six to 12 inches as the storm closed in on helpless New England. But something strange was happening when forecasters started upping their snow totals throughout that quiet and cloudy day. I sat in my cellar as whiteout conditions appeared and listened to alarmed weathermen predicting 12 to 18 inches, then 24 to 30 inches. Neighbors stared at each other from their widows and watched as several homes disappeared in snow drifts on my street.

For students at Revere High, it was another Christmas vacation delivered by Old Man Winter. It was the gift that kept on giving for RHS seniors that snowy February. Driving was forbidden and neighbors were forced to help each other as panicked residents made food run after food run, fearing the end of the world was at hand.

The high school was used a Red Cross shelter for beach residents who were forced to evacuate when the abnormally high tides flooded beaches up and down the Massachusetts coastline. The city was patrolled my Massachusetts National guardsmen who carried M-16s to thwart lowlifes who were pillaging abandoned homes near the inundated beach. A tank rolled through streets buried in 15-foot snowdrifts as military helicopters delivering supplies were landing in the middle of Revere.

It was mayhem on a grand scale, but all of us enjoyed every minute of our impromptu and snow-filled vacation. It was white gold and all of us struck it rich when school was called off for days and days.

It was the ultimate Snow Day for students who witnessed a once-in-a-lifetime snow event in New England.

Cat-atonic

AUBURN, Maine — Goldfish are mesmerizing to watch, dogs are a handful and require constant affection, but cats — those sneaky and moody critters —have one thing going for them — autonomy.

These independent feline hairballs come and go as they please, and they don't like being told what do. They run on their own clock, and all cat owners better get used to their mood swings.

 

There is no way to control these fiercely independent animals. Get that idea out of your head. They like you, but do they really need you?

They play favorites with family members, too, which can lead to stress and divisiveness in the household.


If you are lucky, they will curl up with you when they want to give you the time of day. And yet, there is something to a cat's soothing purr, like a comforting whir of a fan in the dead of the night.

Just give them a place to eat and sleep and these bipolar, four-legged creatures will be back on your doorstep after a long day of carousing and killing mice or birds. They are good at thinning the herd around the backyard and don't mind letting their owners know it. 


Cats love to present their dead or live prey to their horrified owners to prove that they too are proud members of the Eco system.

And for some strange reason, water is their main enemy. Get a cat wet and you have one angry cat on your hands. Look out! They will scowl at you as they dry themselves off in some lonely corner of the house. A soaked cat means you will be ignored for hours, which can be a good thing.

I was never a cat person, although I found Cat Woman a sight to behold.

But cats, well, I didn't mind not having one around, and as for goldfish, these little fellows are fun and relaxing to watch, and they demand little of you because you matter little to them - except when you open the lid to the tank to feed them. 


Then they come around in schools when it is time for feeding. Having a dog is like raising child, and while a dog's love, companionship and devotion are unquestionable, their constant thirst for attention rivals that of a newborn.

Look, I am a friend to all animals, but I never thought about owning a feline - until I got married, and then I had to bend a little, aah, actually a lot. You do a lot of bending in a loving relationship. Finding common ground and compromise are imperative to any lasting union. Saying yes to your spouse means a quick end to any hostilities.

And remember, there is no last word in diplomacy when it comes to your spouse's request to purchase a moody feline.

We have had two cats over the last 20 years. One was uptight and the other is as cool as cucumber, especially when Tabby closes in for the kill. He is a stealthy assassin who has brought down large blue jays and once marched into our living room with a live chipmunk. 


It escaped our cat's clutches and sent the family scurrying around the house to chase the varmint out of our home.

Tabby, like all cats, can be playful and suddenly become downright evasive, but when Tabby likes to play, he can be amusing. But there is a soft side to Tabby. He knows he owns our hearts and is quite affectionate in his own mysterious way, but just don't ever, ever get him wet because he won't forget.

He holds grudges.

Tabby enjoys my wife's constant attention and seeks me out when nobody in the house is around to cater to him. The cat and I are both fine with that odd relationship.

It has taken me years to understand how these fearless felines operate, but our Tabby proves that cats are extraordinary creatures, which do give a damn and need human interaction - when cats feel like it, of course.

Burnin' Love

AUBURN, Maine - The 1905 red-hot wood stove has been working overtime while weathermen have been forecasting doom for the Northeast for the past seven days. 

This gives panicked New Englanders an opportunity to race to the grocery store to purchase food and scramble to find the local number to FEMA for a one-day event that will end life on the planet as we know it.

After all, the apocalypse is upon us as another ho-hum Nor'easter roars up the coast.

But this coast-hugging storm could also turn out to be a dud, too.

Ignoring the storm prognosticators has become a way of life for all sane citizens living in the hinterlands of the Pine Tree State.

But worrying about facing certain destruction from the latest coastal storm is fruitless, especially since my wood stove, a holdover from the Teddy Roosevelt administration, still provides heat and comfort. 

It is an iron monster capable of surviving a nuclear blast. The stove's warmth is a way to use less oil even though this cast-iron beast leaves a carbon footprint the size of Big Foot's feet. But rationing oil still remains an admirable goal. The price alone of this black gold is enough to make any homeowner shiver in these hard times. So for many of us, wood is our alternative energy source — for the moment.

So, let it snow and the cold wind blow!

I will watch New England's day of reckoning huddled around a small inferno, sipping coffee and listening to Mozart, Neil Young, Benny Goodman....well, you get the picture.

For the past five years, I learned how to burn things and light up a wood stove without burning my home down. There is a knack to building the perfect fire — and keeping it going for all eternity — or for at least for most of the winter. 

Mainers are experts when it comes to starting a wood-stove fire up here in cold country. There are tricks to heating a house without triggering a conflagration, and over time, I have become a well-trained arsonist who knows how to light 'em up with dry wood and proper kindling. There is technique involved here, and I have become an expert with fire as my Iron Hulk heats up the entire house from downstairs.

The glowing stove from another century takes the chill out of your bones and turns my unfinished basement into a sauna while winter's fury carries on.

Of course, I am always looking for consensus as a journalist, and that means asking wood-stove veterans to share some of their hot tips on burning wood. I learned from the best to keep the home fires lit without torching my home in the dead of winter.

The approaching storm did not send me scurrying to buy food or rent dozens of movies. We all know the power never goes out in a Nor'easter, our DVD players run on magic, and food never goes bad when the electricity disappears after branches snap wires across a state that has the most trees in the union.

Nah, that never happens!

I will just put another log in my fire-eating stove as another coastal snowstorm adds another blanket of fresh powder — and drink coffee, of course. 

A political party of none

  

Several days ago, members of the United States Congress, for some absurd reason, spent an hour and a half on the taxpayers' dime reading aloud the U.S. Constitution, and they screwed that up, too.

According to the Associated Press, our illustrious leadership omitted key paragraphs when they discovered two pages were stuck together, and "original sections that later were amended, including references to slaves, were left out of the recital."

In that hour and half, these guys should have been discussing solutions to joblessness, the wars in the Middle East, the housing debacle and the Great Equalizer - education. But both political parties decided to one-up themselves by brandishing their patriotism on the house floor instead of conducting the people's business and resuscitating a government buried in debt.

Thanks for the reading lesson, guys. It is comforting to know members of Congress can still sound out the words and have their priorities straight. This demonstration of political showmanship also indicated that perhaps Congress wasn't so sure what the Constitution contained until they read this unique document aloud.

Congress's needless reciting of the Constitution is a perfect example of why George Washington, our first president, and one of those rare Commanders in Chief with common sense, warned his countrymen about the pitfalls of political parties in his 1796 farewell address to the nation.

Just listen to Washington's priceless words that still hold water today:

"I have already intimated to you the danger of parties in the State, with particular reference to the founding of them on geographical discriminations. Let me now take a more comprehensive view, and warn you in the most solemn manner against the baneful effects of the spirit of party generally. This spirit, unfortunately, is inseparable from our nature, having its root in the strongest passions of the human mind. It exists under different shapes in all governments, more or less stifled, controlled, or repressed; but, in those of the popular form, it is seen in its greatest rankness, and is truly their worst enemy.

The alternate domination of one faction over another, sharpened by the spirit of revenge, natural to party dissension, which in different ages and countries has perpetrated the most horrid enormities, is itself a frightful despotism. But this leads at length to a more formal and permanent despotism. The disorders and miseries which result gradually incline the minds of men to seek security and repose in the absolute power of an individual; and sooner or later the chief of some prevailing faction, more able or more fortunate than his competitors, turns this disposition to the purposes of his own elevation, on the ruins of public liberty."

Mr. Washington's admonitions concerning political parties are not unfounded. Just take a look at the buffoonery that transpires in the hallowed halls of the nation's capitol on a daily basis. We have been mired in a recession that has blindsided the middle class and elevated the ranks of the poor since 2007. This is the nation that put the plane in the air, stopped Hitler cold, and made other countries envious of our industrial might for decades. But for the moment, corporate shills, who occupy those seats in Congress, look the other way as American companies create middle classes abroad, while a majority of U.S. citizens face a decline in their standard of living in a nation that was once considered the land of opportunity.

It should make us all shudder with frustration when politicians show more loyalty to their parties than to their constituency. We elected them to Congress and they should be beholden to us, not to a bunch of money-grubbing lobbyists or the RNC (Republican National Committee) and DNC (Democratic National Committee). 

Our leaders should be focused on the Greater Good. But apparently politicians enjoy battling back and forth over their party ideologies while the nation is caught in financial quicksand. Congress's first and foremost concern is the American people. Some where along the way, our leaders have forgotten the meaning of the preamble's opening words "We the people."

"Without looking forward to an extremity of this kind (which nevertheless ought not to be entirely out of sight), the common and continual mischiefs of the spirit of party are sufficient to make it the interest and duty of a wise people to discourage and restrain it.

It serves always to distract the public councils and enfeeble the public administration. It agitates the community with ill-founded jealousies and false alarms, kindles the animosity of one part against another, foments occasionally riot and insurrection. It opens the door to foreign influence and corruption, which finds a facilitated access to the government itself through the channels of party passions. Thus the policy and the will of one country are subjected to the policy and will of another."

Washington was obviously ahead of his time when he stated that political parties "open the doors to foreign influence and corruption." Just take a hard look what is going on now around the planet. Thanks to this political in-fighting, nothing gets done or well-meaning bills are derailed for the sake of opposition by one party. We all suffer the consequences when well-educated man can't find common ground even though this nation's survival might be at stake.

We are all in dire need of a reality check.

So what are the options for the American voter who just lost a job and a house? Abandon both parties? That is certainly tempting when it comes to "who cares" is running for office.

Perhaps, it will require an independent candidate with no ties to any one ideology or party and will put citizens first and ignore the temptations of special interest money. This is truly a great nation born from a rebellion against tyranny and matured into a world power, but it up to us - informed voters - to elect responsible leaders who have credibility and the ability to compromise and bring about positive change in a country under financial duress and fighting terrorism throughout the globe.

A son who always shines

To a fine young man who makes me proud




When I lifted you from the crib

and pressed your delicate head next to my chin

I enjoyed the smell and touch of your smooth skin

Your wide eyes were always searching my soul

And still you have always made me feel whole

You are my infant son who occupies

a father's heart filled with love and hope

I never liked putting you back down

In fact, I would frown when you struggled
in my arms to touch the ground

And now, you no longer need me to carry you places

Your long limbs and strong back

will easily take you to these open and unexplored spaces

I will always miss the bliss of holding you tight to my chest

even though there times when there was no time for me to rest

And yet, although I was sleep deprived,

you always made me feel alive with your bright smile

And as the years pass, and my gray hair becomes sparse

Do me a favor and allow an old man to still hug you tight

So that I may savor those memories

of a child who showered me with delight

and pointed me toward the light

I

- Anthony Blasi

A woman of courage and peace

Sally Goodrich and I suddenly became linked together by the tragic death of an extraordinary and kind human being - her son, Peter Goodrich.

We only spoke twice about Peter, who was killed on the second plane that slammed into the World Trade Center on Sept. 11. But those two brief conversations over the phone told me all I needed to know about a remarkable and dedicated mother who had the courage and tenacity to go on living despite the shattering loss of her beloved son.

To this day, I don't know how Sally Goodrich found a reason to get out of bed each morning. Just after Peter's death, Sally was diagnosed with cancer, and now she was forced to fight off a life-threatening disease while coping with her overwhelming grief.

Some of us might have called it quits, close all the shades, shut out the living and allow grief and depression to consume us.

But despite her endless sorrow and nagging sickness, Sally found an outlet to remember and honor her cherished son. She and her husband, Donald, founded the Peter Goodrich Foundation, which raises money to build and fund schools in Afghanistan. 

Two weeks after Peter died on that warm Tuesday afternoon, a friend of mine, who works for Stars and Stripes, informed me that Peter was a passenger on the second plane that struck the towers.

At first, Peter's name didn't ring a bell. I was still numb after the terrorist attacks. As a sportswriter and editor for the Lewiston Sun Journal, I kept a filing cabinet with some of the stories I had written over the years. At the top the stack of papers were several articles I had done about the Bates College All-American track star.

I called Donald and spoke with him just two weeks after those heinous events in New York City. It was one of the most difficult interviews I had ever done as a reporter. I knew life would never be the same for the Goodriches or the nation.

I remember Peter as a kind and modest athlete who was setting records in the hammer throw at Bates College. When you spoke with Peter, you knew right away that he was raised by caring and educated parents who put their children first. He was tribute to Sally's and Donald's love and devotion to their children.

Several years later, I got a call from Sally at the Sun Journal. She politely asked if she could reprint the articles I wrote about Peter on the foundation's Web site. I spoke with my editor and Sally was given the OK to place my stories on the site.

We spoke for a few minutes when she told me "that out of all the stuff that has been written about Peter, I read your articles every day because of the quotes you used in the story."

I was silent for a few seconds. You never know if the stuff you write ever touches anyone's soul. And now those words I wrote long ago continued to comfort a mother who suffered the most devastating loss of all - the death of a child.

I thanked this courageous woman for her kind compliments. We would speak once more when her son was posthumously inducted into the Auburn-Lewiston Sports Hall of Fame in 2008.

It would be the last time we talked about Peter.

Sally Goodrich, who wouldn't allow her grief to rule her and courageously plunged right back into to life to make a difference in the world, died at her home in Vermont on Dec. 18, 2010. She was 65.

Thank you Sally for being fearless and an inspiration to all of us in a world that could benefit from more compassionate individuals like you.

Rest in peace.

Whitewashed

  

For the past 24 hours, the great State of Maine, and most of New England for that matter, has been facing whiteout conditions from an East Coast storm that has stranded millions of travelers and left many of us searching for the right four-letter words to describe Old Man Winter's vengeance.

Snow totals around the state range from 12 to 25 inches, and the wind continues to howl at around 40 to 50 mph. These are dangerous conditions, but skiers from Sunday River to Lost Valley are rejoicing now that the hills are drenched in white with sound of blizzard conditions.

And for the last six hours, my trusty snow shovel and I have gotten reacquainted with each other. But thanks to those tree-toppling winds, the roof on my house has been swept clean of snow, which means no roof raking.

The wood stove is cooking, the coffee is steaming hot and a can of tongue-burning soup goes a long way to stifling the chill in my bones after wrestling with the frigid elements that have been wreaking havoc on the good citizens of Maine.

But this neighborhood contains several good Samaritans, who don't mind steering their snow-eating blowers toward my buried driveways and clear away heavy snow that would take hours to remove with a shovel.

They are fine human beings who make wonderful, compassionate neighbors.  For their generosity and the cost of gas, they receive bags vegetables from my ample garden during the summer months. And on some occasions, they are rewarded with a six pack of dark beer from one of Maine's finest breweries. No domestic stuff for them.

But wait, there's more when it comes to winters in Maine.

it is only December, and although winter has already reared its ugly head, January and February are still the harshest months in winter-whipped Maine - a state where spring takes forever to arrive and the state's beautiful summers are just too damn short.

Two years ago, we had over 100 inches of the white stuff laying on the ground. I know winter is not done with me, but I am ready and now armed with a homemade snow scoop.

This treasured snow scoop, which is now included in my snow-fighting arsenal, was given to me by one of my good neighbors.

The scoop runs on human energy, and pushing this red iron monster is like trying to move a stalled Sherman tank through the mud during the invasion of Normandy.

But I am ready for winter, so let's see what you've got - Old Man!


www.xomba.com

A woman of substance

We didn't know what to think of each other when we first met 21 years ago. We were from two different worlds, but over the next decade, Dorothy Millett and I would find common ground - at the kitchen table.

I was a boisterous and an opinionated young man who didn't mind speaking his mind. Dorothy Millett was a 67-year-old widow who didn't say much over the phone whenever I called to speak with Terri. She was abrupt, and I felt short-changed because our conversations amounted to just a few words - and she was about to become my mother-in-law.

It wasn't until our numerous lunch dates in Dot's kitchen was when I really got to know this extraordinary woman, who could take whatever was left in the hallway pantry and turn it into a gourmet meal.

I knew she wasn't sure who the heck this guy from the Boston area was and whether his intentions to marry her daughter were honorable and true.

I just thought she didn't like me!

And yet, despite a few rounds of haggling over our wedding plans, Dorothy Millett and I eventually stopped eye-balling each other and grew to like and then love each other despite our differences.

But Dorothy and I were united by a common interest - our love for Terri, who made us both feel special because she is such a special person.

And I came to appreciate her Yankee ingenuity in the kitchen and her old-fashioned horse sense when it came to life's problems. She knew how to simplify life's curve balls in a world that has a knack for complicating everything. She was, in my opinion, a leading authority on common sense. She, along with my mother, became my inspirations in the kitchen, too.

Of course, Dot's culinary talents went a long way to winning me over and making me feel right at home in her humble abode. She knew the fastest way to reaching me was through my stomach, and as a growing young man, who could say no to her culinary delights.

I often told her that we should open "Dot's Kitchen,' and added we could make a fortune because she was such a genius with the average recipe.

A free meal at Dot's dining room was like hitting the lottery or winning Sox tickets to a game on hot August day at Fenway Park.

But what was really remarkable about this woman, who had the stamina of a 40 year old and whose mind was still sharp, was that she had the nerve to adopt a child in her 50s and raise her in a safe and loving household without any fanfare.

And while she was bringing up Terri, this unselfish, civic-minded woman, who was also active in her church, still found time to improve other people's lives in her community.

I have had nothing but respect for Dorothy Millett, who always asked for my mother and father and took a vested interest in my son.

She was one of those human beings who played a huge role in the lives of two people trying to find their way in the world.

I will miss her, and her absence means life will never be the same for Terri and me, and that is why Dorothy Millett's passing is such a huge loss to her family and friends.

Dorothy's death, while not unexpected, has nonetheless left us all feeling empty.

I will miss Dorothy Millett for a number of reasons.

I offer the Millett family this written tribute to a woman whose common sense and integrity were beyond reproach.

My deepest condolences to all who knew this fine woman.

Lego robotics

AUGUSTA, MAINE - Intricate robots made of Legos were put through a battery of tests as junior high students watched their creations perform difficult tasks in a certain amount of time under the watchful eyes of enthusiastic judges and dedicated teachers.

Last weekend, a crowd of nearly a 1,000 creative students and dedicated parents and teachers participated in the Lego League Championship at the Augusta Civic Center.

Students spent months programming these unique robots with computers to get these technological marvels ready for competition.

Students who participate in this after-school program are given the opportunity to use Legos to build these remarkable robots. Computers are employed to program these incredible creations.

Call it teaching outside the box.

My son became a Lego fanatic years ago, and he still constructs amazing battleships using these plastic building blocks.

When he heard about the after-school program, he jumped at the chance to join the team.

Last year, he decided to join the program to work with a team of students at Auburn Middle School. Students learn the in and outs of programming as well as design of robots. It is a lot of work and it takes patience, creativity and team work.

My son participates year-round and then moves on to solar-powered cars competition in the spring.

There is no question a program like this can steer students toward careers in computers and engineering while they are having the time of their lives making these things work.

Jim Rowe, a dedicated and passionate teacher, oversees the Lego and solar-powered cars competition. He is a man of infinite patience who also teaches shop at the school. He is a resourceful educator who takes a genuine interest in each of his students. Rowe is a one-man show who organizes these students into a team and guides them as their robots come to fruition

Watching these students build this robot from the ground up is eye-opening. My son's team, "The Seventh Sense," performed well enough to earn an award in programming.

Their success is a tribute to their ingenuity and diligence, and to a teacher who goes the distance for his students.

The gift

It was subtle act of kindness that brought great tidings of joy to a family of three during a season where everybody is enveloped by the holiday rush and all its madness.

The person responsible for providing this rare holiday magic without any fanfare was a gentleman who I see once a year for a 30 minutes each December. He is a hard-working man whose kind eyes and sincerity make him a memorable human being. He also understands that times are tough and families are trying to weather a withering recession.

Each Christmas, this man, who is unforgettable even though I inexcusably forget his name, hauls his trees from up north and sets up shop in Auburn, Maine, to sell his fine pine trees and make Christmas a lot more merry for his clientele.  But it really doesn't matter that we don't know each other by name because we figured out long ago what is really important in our lives.

He is the kind of guy who shakes your hand and adds a "God bless you" before you leave the lot with a tree sticking out of your trunk. And he means it, and that is why it is a privilege to purchase a tree from this honest man each season.

Over the years, we often had these brief but intense conversations about our children and how much we love them. We both understand the importance of raising children even though we have only spent about 30 minutes each year on a cold December afternoon discussing our priorities and loyalty to our family

This December was no different as we were greeted by his warm smile, and of course, one of his first questions was how my son was getting on in life. His considerate inquiries about my son made our quick seasonal encounters enjoyable, because my family is my lifeline and he obviously feels the same about his brood. While my wife, Terri, is the foundation in our home, Anthony is the centerpiece of our lives.

I asked him how he was doing as I checked my wallet for some cash when I was surprised to learn I didn't have enough money to cover the cost of purchasing the tree. He overheard me talking to my wife, and he asked me if I had a problem with money. I told him I was fine, but that I had to visit an ATM and rushed off in the car.

Now I know he would have worked something out if I could not have afforded one of his fine trees. He is that kind of rare human being who is not solely motivated by profit. 

When I returned to the lot, we walked up and down looking for a narrow tree to fit into our small parlor.

We made our decision after much discussion. The employee gave the tree a fresh cut. I reached for my wallet to pay for the $22.00 tree. He told me $15.00 would work for him. My eyes widened. I wasn't looking for a bargain because I know this family works hard to bring these majestic trees to market.

I asked him if he was sure about this last-minute offer. He smiled and said it was fine. We again spoke about my son before I rushed home to put our prized tree in the house.

Sure, the $7.00 would not break his bank account or make me any richer. It was the thought that counted. I gratefully shook his hand and wished him Merry Christmas.

My wife was stunned when I told her about this simple act of kindness. 

We both knew it wasn't about the money.

It was about one man's benevolence during a holiday that is supposed be about giving.