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.

Goodfellows52: When common sense finally prevails

Goodfellows52: When common sense finally prevails: “Common sense is not so common.”                                                                                                         ...

When common sense finally prevails

“Common sense is not so common.”                                                                                                                                   ― Voltaire

AUBURN, Maine - They finally figured it out that it was no longer worth going the distance to defend the running of the New York City Marathon this weekend.

It took them long enough to wake up and listen to the outrage from citizens along the eastern seaboard.

And all it took was Staten Island residents bawling their eyes out and pleas for help in front of homes knocked off their foundations.

Maine was spared from a storm that stayed to the south of the Pine Tree State.

New York City Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg did an about-face and made the right call to cancel the event even though it took days for his office to decide to put the kibosh on the race. But that decision should have been made the moment after Sandy blew through the area and leveled thousands of homes.

Sure, it would be an economic and morale boost to a city devastated by Hurricane Sandy. But I am not buying the argument that allowing the marathon to go on would have been in poor taste.

This decision wasn't about taste. It is about resources which have been stretched to the limit in New York, New Jersey and Connecticut.

Those areas hardest hit require a huge police presence to maintain law and order. New York City does not have the manpower to cover a race that runs through an area that was pancaked by a natural disaster.

Imagine runners sprinting through neighborhoods without running water and residents camped out in their yards waiting for the cavalry to arrive.

I shook my head when a marathon competitor whined about the race's cancellation on national television. I imagine he would have felt differently if it was his home that was washed out to sea or burned to the ground as helpless fireman watched from a distance. I guess he forgot that nearly 100 people lost their lives in a hurricane that was a 1,000 miles wide.

He doesn't have to go without water or look for his next meal. This athlete should act more like a marathon runner than a moron.

Now that this controversy has subsided like the raging flooding waters in NYC, the region can concentrate on helping displaced citizens recover from this destructive storm. In the long run, helping storm victims is what a recovery effort is all about.

After all, this was the cancellation of a race, but the real marathon will be about a tale of survival in the coming months, and this recovery will give all Americans a run for their money.

Goodfellows52: The little town of horrors, and a monster storm ma...

Goodfellows52: The little town of horrors, and a monster storm ma...: This is scary stuff.  Don't look now, Terri, but something wicked comes your way. Anthony makes is way through the throng of visi...

The little town (Salem) of horrors, and a monster storm makes Halloween a real horror show

This is scary stuff. 

Don't look now, Terri, but something wicked comes your way.

Anthony makes is way through the throng of visitors to Salem, Mass.

Old headstones from the 1700s line Old Burying Point Cemetery in Salem, Mass.

Checking out an above-ground crypt in Salem.

SALEM, Mass. — A young man pretended to fall dead on a crowded sidewalk. A woman stepped out of a parked car and rushed over to draw a chalk outline around the body.

Pedestrians laughed as they maneuvered around the victim, who abruptly stood up, jumped into a car and drove off with a giggling woman, leaving the outline of the body intact.

Sounds strange? Not in this city of the damned.

Welcome to Salem — a community that dresses up each Halloween to proudly tout its infamous past. For the entire month of October, Salem goes out of its way to give visitors the creeps. 

You might just call it the Mardi Gras of the East. 

Who needs ghosts and or the undead when the living dress in strange costumes and parade through the narrow streets of a city where 19 men and women were accused and convicted of witchcraft and later hung at Gallows Hill in the 1690s.

Last Saturday, the three of us decided to join the rest of the trick-or-treaters to roam these haunted streets for a third tour of Salem.

It never gets old, and it is always a bizarre experience.

I used to work with this poor soul.

We were aware that Hurricane Sandy was closing in on the Eastern seaboard, but that didn't deter us from our visit even though the monstrous storm was right on our heels when we returned to Maine

My wife and son enjoy Salem's macabre atmosphere. They are always keeping an eye out for orbs and their ears open for hair-raising screams and that occasional bump in the night.

According to paranormal enthusiasts, there are  plenty of wandering ghosts who apparently won't let go of their former lives in a city where religious malevolence triggered hysteria and the persecution of its citizens, many of whom met their deaths at the end of the hangman's rope or died in prison.

Our first stop

Burying Point Cemetery is usually our first destination. For some visitors, above-ground crypts and old headstones give this cemetery a gloomy feeling.

There are some famous chaps buried in this ancient place. According to graveaddiction.com: "One of the most famous people buried in the cemetery is Justice John Hathorne, the great-great-grandfather of writer Nathaniel Hawthorne. John Hathorne was a judge during the witch trials, and he had a bad reputation. Nathaniel Hawthorne was so ashamed of his ancestor's role in the trials that he added a "w" in his name to make it different."

I am sure Burying Point takes on a new look and feel in the dark, but that could be said of all graveyards, especially ones with a mysterious past.

So much to do

If you need a respite from the macabre or the crowds, head over to Pickering Wharf and inhale those refreshing sea breezes. Better yet, take a mile walk on a jetty to check out Derby Wharf Lighthouse. While you are there, take a good look across the bay to catch a glimpse of nearby Bakers Island.

There are many small shops pedaling the gothic lifestyle. Get your palm read by a psychic who seems to have a handle on everybody's future. 

Several years ago, Terri met Salem's official Witch of Salem — Laurie Cabot — a charismatic women who charmed my wife. Terri somehow convinced Ms. Cabot to take a picture with her — at no charge.

It was a bewitching experience for both women.

During that same visit, we toured the House of Seven Gables and squeezed through the secret passage that features a narrow flight of stairs. It is a tight fit for a big man like myself, and I saw one tourist suffer a serious bout of claustrophobia as she struggled to reach the top of the stairwell.

According to www.7gables.org: "When you arrive at The House of the Seven Gables - which constitutes its own national historic district on The National Register of Historic places — professional guides will warmly greet you for an unforgettable historical experience. Outside, spectacular seaside gardens await you. Inside of The House of the Seven Gables, also known as the Turner-Ingersoll Mansion, you will discover a mysterious secret staircase where you least expect it! Built in 1668, this is the oldest surviving 17th century wooden mansion in New England. The House of the Seven Gables inspired author Nathaniel Hawthorne to write his legendary novel of the same name."

There are numerous tourist destinations including the Pirates and Witch museums, and of course, The Friendship of Salem — a 171-foot replica of the 1797 East Indiaman. And don't forget about the living who enjoy making spectacles of themselves with their outrageous costumes.

I enjoyed spending 45 minutes watching a baseball game being played by men dressed in Civil War-era baseball uniforms on Salem Common, — nine-acre park that is overlooked by an imposing statue of Puritan Roger Conant who founded the city.

But one of the best moments during my visit was having my son take a photograph 

of the two of us standing next to the same gazebo that Terri stood on 24 years ago.

I often wonder where those wonderful 24 years have gone. I guess that's why Salem's stubborn ghosts try to hold to their past.

For me, I try to hold on to every minute I have with my family in this lifetime.

Goodfellows52: A quiet Patriot departs

Goodfellows52: A quiet Patriot departs: AUBURN - I was watching the last debate  between President Obama and former Massachusetts Gov. Mitt Romney tonight when I began thinking ...

A quiet Patriot departs

AUBURN — I was watching the last debate  between President Obama and former Massachusetts Gov. Mitt Romney tonight when I began thinking about a former South Dakota representative and presidential contender who died this week at 90 years old.

George McGovern was a liberal Democrat who lost in a landslide to Richard Nixon in 1972. What intrigues me more than McGovern's fine political career was his distinguished service as a World War II pilot.

He was a sincere and brave man who interrupted his studies at college and enlisted right after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. He flew missions over Italy, Austria and Germany and earned the Distinguished Flying Cross after his plane was shot down.

McGovern flew the B-24, a pig of a plane that was difficult to maneuver. Pilots who flew this heavy bomber watched the bicep in their right arms become enlarged because this beast was so difficult to steer in battle.

He was a rare and sincere breed who demonstrated his integrity by putting it all on line for his nation in a war that consumed the entire planet.

Stephen E. Ambrose wrote an excellent book, "The Wild Blue: The Men and Boys who flew the B-24s over Germany, 1944-45." It featured McGovern's dangerous missions as a pilot who flew with the Fifteenth Air Force's 451st Bombardment Group stationed in Italy.

The book ended with a fascinating episode in a bloody war that haunted McGovern for most of his life. The former U.S. representative spoke about this devastating moment during an interview on a television station in Austria 40 years later.

After one mission, there was a 500-pound bomb dangerously hanging from the rack. McGovern and his crew had two alternatives: Ditch the aircraft or jettison this bomb to safely land the plane.

The crew eventually freed the bomb, but it dropped on a farm house around noon that day. McGovern figured he had wiped out an entire family on the border of Austria and Italy.

Well, during that TV interview, a farmer called the station and told McGovern he got his family safely out of harm's way before the bomb struck his home.

Imagine how relieved McGovern must have felt. After all, this was a man who risked life and limb for his country, but despite the scourge of war and the psychological scars he was forced to sort out throughout his civilian life, he never lost hope or his belief in mankind.
 

Goodfellows52: The kindness of others

Goodfellows52: The kindness of others: “Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”  ― Mark Twain AUBURN - I am seeking revenge against a pair ...

The kindness of others

“Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.” 

― Mark Twain

AUBURN — I am seeking revenge against a pair of Samaritans who had the gall to be nice to me.

Can you believe these guys! The nerve of them for being decent and kind people!

I want my pound of flesh (see Shakespeare). And remember, no good deed goes unpunished. 

It was an extraordinary act of generosity committed by two of the finest human beings to walk the planet.

Now I want to pay them back, and the only way I can is to return the favor and be nice to them, too. They won't see it coming, but no doubt they will be looking over their shoulders. They know I am out there, dreaming up some devious plan of my own act of kindness.

The two conspirators are named Mike and Don - two common names for two uncommon men who exude decency and integrity. These are smart guys who give a damn about the right in things in life. These are guys with common sense and believe in the greater good.

They have their heads on straight, which means they will never have a future in American politics. Their reputations are beyond reproach, and I wouldn't get within 10 feet of them if they weren't such wonderful human beings.

Here's what these guys contrived to trigger my tirade.

Don is my neighbor who offered me the heating oil in his tank at no charge to me. He made the wise choice to switch to natural gas, shaking off the shackles of greedy oil companies. He is a great guy who shares his vast knowledge with me, and I of course, can always use a few pointers as a home owner. 

Anyway, his oil tank needed to be removed as well as the oil in it. That's where Mike, a co-conspirator, comes in.

Mike is an adept plumber and another fine example of humanity. This young man served his country in the United State Air Force as a mechanic repairing the feared B-1 bombers in Saudi Arabia for 10 years. Mike's experiences in the Middle East remind me of T.E. Lawrence, who tried to unite the tribes at the conclusion of World War I.

Don needed a plumber and Mike needed work, and the both of them decided to be nice to me. The two also became friends, and like expatriate Rick Blaine and French inspector Louise Renault in "Casablanca," it just might be the start of a beautiful friendship.

Well, after Mike transferred the oil to my tank and removed Don's tank from his cellar, my honest plumber and friend knocked on my door to inform me the job was completed. He had quoted me a ridiculously reasonable price to transfer the oil a couple of weeks ago.

"Hey Mike, how much do I owe you," I asked.

"You are all set," he said with a wide smile.

We looked at each other. "C'mon, what do I owe you," I demanded.

"We settled it between ourselves," Mike explained.

That was it; the deal was sealed - without my say in the matter.

That meant I was on the receiving end of about $440.00 worth of free oil thanks to the kindness of two gentlemen. My tank is nearly full because of these thoughtful jokers.

I offered Mike coffee, paying for lunch, frozen vegetables from my garden and the keys to my car.

OK, well three can play at this game as I figure out how to respond to such kindness.

They better keep looking over their shoulders. I am going to get those guys and it will be pretty.

Goodfellows52: We're all shook up

Goodfellows52: We're all shook up: I feel the earth move under my feet I feel the sky tumbling down I feel my heart start to trembling  Whenever you're around - "...