And justice for all in Watertown tonight

“The problem with living outside the law is that you no longer have its protection.”

― Truman Capote

AUBURN, Maine — Hey, good residents of Watertown and Boston, you can rest easy tonight.

And that goes for the rest of the nation, too.

You can sleep soundly knowing the nation's various law enforcement agencies and National Guard banded together and captured or killed the suspects allegedly responsible for the Boston Marathon bombings — in just five days.

This was a week of sadness and triumph for a state that confronted King George and told the hoity-toity British to shove off.

This posse of experienced lawmen proudly rode into Watertown and liberated it from terror and anxiety.

Say what you will about this country's failings, and we have all said plenty, but tonight, we have nothing to bitch about, but plenty of reason to celebrate thanks to law enforcement and citizens who kept a sharp eye out when harm and terror disrupted the lives of Bay Staters.

This nation has obviously learned a great deal after the 9/11 attacks. What terrorists don't understand is that their nefarious acts have only strengthen this nation's resolve.

For nearly 24 hours, Watertown was awash with police and FBI agents combing through backyards and streets for a suspect who slipped away from authorities after a late-night shootout that left one suspect dead.

Watertown and Boston residents became shut-ins after suspects shot it out with police, forcing the good citizens of these two cities to wait out the siege in their homes.

But a patient battalion of law enforcement officers kept a vigil before finally tracking down a wounded suspect.

A Watertown resident discovered the suspect hiding in a boat and did the smart thing — he alerted authorities who eventually took the suspect into custody after a hail of bullets whizzed through the night air again.

Watching Watertown residents celebrate and give police a big pat on the back as authorities left town was something to behold. Just remember their heroics and dedication the next time the guys in blue give you a speeding ticket. 

Don't ever give these peace officers a hard time. Remember, they are just doing their job, and they did it oh so well this week.

We will all sleep well knowing they are on duty tonight.

The investigation is just the beginning, and an endless stream of questions remain unanswered, but the swift hand of justice is forthcoming, and it will prevail for the victims of the bombings and the murdered MIT officer.

So, Boston, Watertown and the rest of the nation, get a good night's sleep.

I think all Americans have earned it tonight.

Goodfellows52: Oh, Boston, you're still my home, and my heart goe...

Goodfellows52: Oh, Boston, you're still my home, and my heart goe...: “When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants and murderers, an...

Oh, Boston, you're still my home, and my heart goes out to you

“When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time, they can seem invincible, but in the end, they always fall. Think of it — always.” 

― Mahatma Gandhi

AUBURN, Maine — All that anxiety and fear that slowly faded away after the attacks on the Twin Towers 13 years ago resurfaced as my family watched the aftermath of two bombs that exploded at the Boston Marathon finish line on Patriots Day.

I thought I had safely tucked away those memories of that awful day in September until I saw all those injured souls lying on the street.

And I thought this was going to be a good day. 

I got the yard in shape for summer, my son had track practice and the sun was bright — just like that the frightful Tuesday morning when New York City was brought to its knees when the towers crumbled, killing nearly 3,000 people.

My wife learned about the bombings on the computer, and then our afternoon was spent watching the injured being rushed to hospitals and endless replays of the blast, which killed three people.

My son and I watched the horror and pandemonium that unfolded in Beantown on Monday afternoon. Turn back the clock 13 years ago, and my five year old and I were watching "Barney" when I decided to flip through the channels and suddenly witnessed the second plane rip through one of towers, killing Bates College All-American Peter Goodrich.

And now, three people have been murdered and dozens injured at an event that celebrates fitness and athleticism. It is a goodwill competition that features runners from around the globe.

The panic in Boston has spread across the nation as major cities have buttoned up and tightened their security, too. The bombings have put the White House on high alert, and the country is looking over its shoulder again.

Forget why or who did this, because when it comes to terrorism, there is no reasoning.

What happened in the Hub isn't on the same level of horror as 9-11, but the terrorists did what they set out to do — trigger fear and anxiety that makes us all feel vulnerable and helpless.

Watching Boston instantly become a city of mass confusion certainly reminded me of New York City. This was just another assault on an American city rich in history. Bostonians, who live for Patriots Day, are now being told to remain indoors.

I grew up five miles from Fenway Park in Boston. I am a graduate of Northeastern University in Boston.

My wife and I have visited the Boston Commons and the pub know as Cheers — where everyone knows your name. I accompanied my father when he received a coaching award in Boston.

I watched my father pace the aisles as he griped about Carlton Fisk taking his sweet old time at the plate at Fenway Park in Boston. My father smiled when his son yelled from the top his lungs, "Cheevers, please don't leave the nets" during a Bruins game at the old Boston Garden.

I have watched Larry Bird mess up several NBA teams at the old Boston Garden. The Beatles played just two miles from my home at Suffolk Downs in East Boston.

In 1987, I witnessed Toshihiko Seko win the Boston Marathon.

Boston was my playground as a young man, and I still believe it is the greatest city in the world.

The Hub is know for its groundbreaking hospitals and renowned universities, but whoever committed this nefarious act should be taken out for a walk.

Somewhere in eternity, a humble Peter Goodrich, and his beloved late mother, Sally, are probably shaking their heads over another absurd act of violence.

But I am shaking my fists today.

Goodfellows52: Spring has not sprung

Goodfellows52: Spring has not sprung: AUBURN, Maine — Despite a miserable, fu$% spring that might be responsible for triggering a wave of manic depression across the ...

Spring has not sprung

AUBURN, Maine — Despite a miserable, fu$% spring that might be responsible for triggering a wave of manic depression across the Pine Tree State, life is finding a way to poke through the cold, waterlogged ground and offer us hope that summer is waiting in the wings to make a grand entrance.

A sea of compost has been resting atop my garden all winter, protecting it from wind erosion. Every other day, Anthony or I have trudged out to the snow-packed garden and tossed peels, wood ash from our woodstove, coffee grinds, egg shells, and anything else that benefits our soil. Throw in mulched leaves and grass, rotten apples and pears from a final fall cleanup, and we have dirt that you could eat.

The snow is gone, but cool temperatures, intermittent snow flurries and hail have been unkind to plants that bloom in early spring.

Still, there are signs of life in this frozen tundra we call Maine. My chives and scallions are bursting forth and will be edible in a couple of weeks long before I plant my garden at the very end of May.

Right now, the garden looks like throw-up. It's as if Mother Nature heaved all over the land. In fact, the entire landscape of this beautiful state has been barfed on by a winter that just won't let us alone. It is still gray and any grass that wants to green up is gun shy.

But underneath this mushy, gooey compost, lies soil that makes a gardener's mouth water. The worms have been busy all winter turning this crap into pristine soil, and these guys work for free. I can't wait to take an industrial-strength tiller and churn this soil into a garden of delicious vegetables.

At this point, I am playing the waiting game, hoping April will suddenly resemble spring. I could go on and on about the weather, but shaking my fists at Mother Nature is like bitching about congress's inability to make one simple frigging decision without taking the "what's in it for me" attitude.

So I bide my time until the weather clears, but my patience is just about gone.

Mother Nature apparently forgot to tell Old Man Winter to scat!

Keeping track of my son

When any kid decides to play a sport, he should be applauded by his parents. Participating in any high school sport requires dedication and teaches students how to manage their time.

Colleges also like to see it on a prospective student's application.

My son has decided to give track the old college try, and I find it encouraging that athletes on the Edward Little track team encourage him to go the distance. There is a lot of camaraderie and goodwill going on in this squad, and that is a credit to a coaching staff who continues to inspire high school athletes.

My son has become good skier when he became a member of the Lost Valley Ski Patrol Team. This dedicated bunch taught him how to become a fine skier.

But when Anthony became aware of the rigorous, physical training at Maine Maritime Academy, he decided track would get him in tip-top condition.

But Anthony has opted to become a thrower. Running is definitely not his forte. Look, whatever he does, I will be there to root him on because that's what involved parents do.

Bitching in the rain

LISBON, Maine — We had enough of cowering inside our home, hoping the weather would warm up to take a short hike.

So we ignored threatening clouds, the of-and-on drizzle, and cold, and headed to the Papermill trail just off Route 196 in Lisbon.

It is about a two-mile walk along the Sabattus River. The slow, steady climb to the top ends near an elementary school. It is a great way to enjoy nature and the soothing sounds of a meandering river.

Showers drifted over the area and made for a damp hike, but we wouldn't let a nasty spring spoil our short journey.

We are still holding out for summer.

Goodfellows52: A tale of educators and music that soothes the res...

Goodfellows52: A tale of educators and music that soothes the res...: "If anything goes bad, I did it. If anything goes semi-good, we did it. If anything goes real good, you did it. That’s all it takes ...

A tale of educators and music that soothes the restless soul

"If anything goes bad, I did it. If anything goes semi-good, we did it. If anything goes real good, you did it. That’s all it takes to get people to win football games.”

Bear Bryant 

LEWISTON, Maine —There are fringe benefits that come with being a print journalist, but the best perk of all is meeting kind and dedicated people who make a difference in people's lives on a daily basis.

I had the privilege speaking with one of those human beings last week. He is a teacher and high school football coach who has been in the trenches on the football field and in the classroom — for 42 fruitful years. He is an extraordinary person who served a tour in Vietnam. But instead of allowing himself to be tainted or haunted by a war that frustrated an entire nation for over a decade, Mechanic Falls native Chuck Lenahan chose to become a teacher and a football coach.

Lenahan is like Vince Lombardi and Bear Bryant all rolled into one, but his compassion for his athletes and students is beyond reproach. Like his principal, Bruce Parson, my former coach at Revere High School, these two educators share a common bond and believe in the greater good for all of their students at Plymouth Regional High School.

I could go on and on about the both them and their heroic efforts to prepare each student for the world outside the classroom, but I already have in an article I have written for the Lewiston Sun Journal sports section.

What you will find is one remarkable coach and a principal doing wonderful things for children somewhere in the woods of New Hampshire. These guys don't come along often in life, but when they appear in our public schools, students' chances for a better way of life improve dramatically.

If you want to know more about an incredibly successful high school football coach and dedicated principal, check out this link: 
http://www.sunjournal.com/news/local-sports/2013/04/06/plymouth-rock-football-all-about-pride-and-traditi/1343883

Music to my ears

What to do on a chilly, blustery April afternoon?

Well, things move fast in the big city, and all of sudden, I won a pair of tickets to listen to George Frederic Handel's "Messiah." Sure, it is often considered Christmas music, but who gives a damn what season it is when 80 extremely talented singers and musicians get together at the Franco American Heritage in Lewiston.

For two glorious hours, we listened to this ensemble perform one of the finest pieces in classical music in a grand cathedral – the former St. Mary's Church, which is now the Franco Center.

The architecture alone is something to behold when such wonderful music is performed in these hallowed halls, which also provides the perfect acoustics to accommodate such a lovely performance.

The three of us usually sit in the back of the church to allow the music to wash over us like gentle, soothing waves at Popham Beach.

I was a stay-at-home dad who would often play the "Messiah" to help my son sleep through an afternoon nap. Of course, that worked both ways.

Artistic director John Carrie produced another masterful performance thanks to the angelic voices of soloists Susan Strickland, Shannon Rolbiecki, Martin Lescault and Leon Griesbach, the Maine Music Society Orchestra and the rest of the remarkable voices of the Androscoggin Chorale 

The church was nearly filled with an appreciative audience who spent two and half hours drifting away in a sea of glorious voices and soothing music.

Bravo, bravo!

Goodfellows52: A union of devotion

Goodfellows52: A union of devotion: A successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person. Mignon McLaughlin   AUBURN, Maine —...

A union of devotion

A successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person.

Mignon McLaughlin 

AUBURN, Maine — What is so perfect about our marriage is perfection does not exist.

After 23 years of being together, we want no part of being labeled the perfect couple. It is a reputation nearly impossible to live up to in any lifetime.

Today is March 24th — our anniversary and a another milestone for us.

Talk about a relationship that has seen its peaks and valleys. Our partnership has been a roller coaster of raw emotion tempered by a great deal of love and respect for each other.

We are fast approaching the quarter century mark of a union that somehow continues to endure. We don't take our commitment for granted because we both understand our marriage demands a lot of blood, sweat and tears to prevent it from dissolving like remnants of a March snowstorm slowly disappearing in the spring sun.

We've been through adversity in our lifetimes, but we are damn lucky to weather these sad moments together and not have to survive those cold nights without any sort of companionship

Throw in a wonderful son, and well, we are living the life even though we walk on the edge of a tight budget. But that could said of most married couples who are raising children as mom and dad struggle with their finances.

That's what good parents do when it comes to raising  a child — the most important job on this planet.

This has been a warm relationship sprinkled with moments of loud disagreements. I would be lying if I said every confrontation ends with a peck on the cheek. And there are days when I am Darth Vader and she is Obi-Won Kenobi, and out come the light sabers at the dinner table.

But as a couple, we find common ground and amicably settle our disagreements with no hard feelings. Both parties are left standing and leave the battlefield with their honor intact.

Marriage isn't easy. Someone once said marriage is where two people come together to unload their baggage. I think that is true and necessary to keep a union from unraveling from outside forces that often test a strong partnership.

Look, whenever I walk through the door and holler, "Honey, I am home," don't look for Terri to run to door and greet me with a loving embrace. She is no Scarlet O'Hara and I am no Rhett Butler.

And frankly I don't give a damn if we don't act like the two main characters in "Gone with the Wind."

At the end my day, I often hear: "Hey, you got some dishes to do. We need to do wash. Anthony has a doctor's appointment Someone has got to wash the floor. I need money to pay this bill."

The cat sometimes get more attention than me, and Tabby doesn't even cook or do dishes.

But I am relieved that Terri hasn't decided to trade me in for a younger model with washboard abs and dark, brown hair.

I don't know what the universe has in store for us the next 23 years. But I still see stars when I see my wife at the end of the day.

Goodfellows52: The sea calls to my son

Goodfellows52: The sea calls to my son: Anthony stands on the deck of Maine Maritime's ship, th e Ned, and braves the sea mist and cool temperatures on Penobscot Bay. ...

The sea calls to my son

Anthony stands on the deck of Maine Maritime's ship, the Ned, and braves the sea mist and cool temperatures on Penobscot Bay.

Maine Maritime's pride and joy —the State of Maine.

The bow of the State of Maine in Castine, Maine.

1. 

A true mariner.

The Turret house in Bar Harbor, Maine.

“For whatever we lose (a you or a me). It's always ourselves we find in the sea.” 

― E.E. Cummings

CASTINE, Maine — Our young sailor is back on land after his short trip around Penobscot Bay.

Anthony was one of 16 lucky Edward Little High School students who took a whirlwind, two-day tour of colleges around northern Maine.

He thought it was a worthwhile endeavor to take a peek at Unity College and the College of Atlantic, but Maine Maritime Academy was at the top of his list, and the school certainly got his attention. The students were given deluxe accommodations at Maine Maritime and really good chow.

He was impressed with the school and felt right at home on the bow of a fast-moving ship that took EL students on a sight-seeing adventure around the bay on a murky day. With the help of other students and the crew of the Ned — a 70-foot, twin-screw vessel — Anthony took the helm and docked the boat.

Students were also given a tour of Maine Maritime's pride and joy — the State of Maine — a 499-foot training ship that was built by the United States Navy. Its former name was the USNS Tanner and was launched in 1990.

 I would be remiss in not thanking the Edward Little guidance department for making this trip possible for students. Say what you will about public education, but there are many dedicated teachers and administrators who go the distance for their students, and they work right here in Auburn.

You see, my son has been captivated by the sea ever since he waded in the cool waters of the Atlantic as a 2 year old. Our ancestry is filled with seafaring men who found their calling traveling the planet's vast oceans. Throughout our history, our family tree is littered with mariners and beachgoers. I grew up in the coastal town of Revere. The beach was our playground during the summer. We are all beach bums in this family.

During his brief visit, Anthony saw a stunning rainbow over Acadia National Park, a fjord, the awesome power of Thunder Hole, Fort George, the Turrets — a large home in Bar Harbor — and used a ship simulator to navigate computer-generated boats at Maine Maritime.

During his brief excursion on the Ned, he stood on the bow, braved the windy, salty air and called his dad from a cell phone. It was one of the best conversations we had.

His fascination with ships began with large plastic boats that he placed in the path of large waves at Popham Beach. He watched the destructive force of waves toss and turn his small vessels, sending many of them to the bottom.

His passion never waned for ocean-going vessels. He can name many of history's famous ships dating back to the 1400s.

He has built numerous models of warships and has walked the decks of fighting vessels at Battleship Cove. I even tried my hand at building a seaworthy, wooden ship so that he could sail it on the calm waters at Range Pond in Poland. It still floats.

We sailed his model ships at a crowded Wells Beach on a hot summer morning. As we waded through a sea of  beachgoers,  comments like, "Dude, cool ships," emanating from a crowd of sun worshipers as we rushed toward the water.

Look, sailing the seven seas can be a dangerous profession, but so isn't driving over the Tobin Bridge and into Boston or trying to stay alive on Route 128 at the height of rush hour in Massachusetts. But this is a good paying, honest job, and it won't go away no matter how many super computers they build. Somebody has got to run those ships and deliver all those goods around the globe.

Perhaps my son will be at the helm at one of those behemoths, but that will be his decision to make in a couple of years.

It is a wonderful feeling watching your kid find his passion in life, but it is also hard on the heart letting him go. But I wouldn't have it any other way. 

He was impressed with Maine Maritime and all it had to offer a student whose heart lies somewhere out there on that vast ocean.

The sea has been calling to Anthony since he was a child, and I think he is about to give the ocean his answer.

Goodfellows52: A family tree grows in Auburn

Goodfellows52: A family tree grows in Auburn: AMERICA'S PASTIME: My father, Al Blasi, at around nine years old. He was already smitten by baseball, and it explains why he became a...

A family tree grows in Auburn

AMERICA'S PASTIME: My father, Al Blasi, at around nine years old. He was already smitten with baseball, and it explains why he became a baseball coach for over 40 years at Revere High School.

ALL IN THE FAMILY: My father Al, lower right, with his family: His dad, Anthony Sr., his mom, Anne, his sister, Rita, and big brother, Rocco.

THOSE WERE THE DAYS: My mother, Louise with her family: Mom Josephine, brother Wesley, sisters Carol and Nellie.

"We all grow up with the weight of history on us.  Our ancestors dwell in the attics of our brains as they do in the spiraling chains of knowledge hidden in every cell of our bodies."  

~Shirley Abbott

AUBURN, Maine — Anthony would have been held incommunicado in my mother's kitchen if Louise witnessed how swift my son traced our family's ancestry using a reliable laptop, two impressive libraries and a great deal of patience and tenacity.

Anthony raced through centuries of history with the push of a button. He was like curious time traveler Rod Taylor in the 1960 movie version of H.G. Wells' "Time Machine" While Taylor watched eons pass before him outside his laboratory windows with a nudge of a lever, Anthony observed dozens of our decedents' names appear on a computer screen.

His arduous journey began when he started reading about the Davis family and our connection to the American Revolution on my mother's side. My mom's clan was a seafaring bunch who came over from Scotland and then eventually took on King George in America. The other side is Italian, and my heritage on my dad's side explains why I am excellent cook. I will take anyone on the kitchen and win each battle with my culinary delights.

For most of his school vacation, my son plowed through Ancestry.com to research our lineage. Centuries flew by on the computer as our family tree grew like the 40-foot pine in our front yard.

He spent days meticulously connecting the forgotten dots of time. He began with my wife's family and then moved on to his dad's ancestors without showing any signs of exasperation. Obstacles or detours didn't stop him from conducting his research. When the road narrowed and leads dried up, Anthony switched direction and found a new path into our ancient past.

If my late mother saw how easy it is to trace your roots using the Net, Anthony would have become his grandmother's hero. She was a proud member of the Daughters of the American Revolution. Her ancestry and love of this nation's history made her a living reference for all of us. 

My son is now obsessed to see how far his quest will take him inside recorded history. He persuaded me to pay for another month of Ancestry.com's time-traveling, technological wizardry. The site is like a wormhole, a shortcut if you will, through the ages.

After facing several road blocks tracing the origins of the Blasi family, he moved on to the Davis family tree with significant results.

First and foremost, I am from nobility. You could say I am related to England's modern-day royalty, so bow the next time you see me. Of course, a handshake will do, too. I've inherited my love of gardening from the Royals, and I bet Prince Charles and I could go round and round about raising a bumper crop.

Anthony's startling discoveries include: 

* I am a first cousin, 13 times removed to Sir Francis Drake — An English vice admiral, privateer and navigator during the Elizabethan era.

* I am a second cousin, 12 times removed to Richard Grenville of the of the H.M.S. Revenge, 

* My 13th great grandfather was Roger Granville, who was captain of the H.M.S. Mary Rose

* I am first cousin, 18 times removed to Richard the Third — a king of England. His remains were recently discovered underneath a parking lot in Leicester, England.

* My 22nd great grandfather was Edward the First, also known as Edward Longshanks, a medieval monarch and slayer of William Wallace. 

Obviously King Richard and Edward were despots, but they are still part of my heritage, and it is cool to have a few skeletons in the closet.

Anthony also focused on Terri's mother's maiden name — Richardson. He brought to light several startling revelations about my wife's ancestry.

* Terri is the seventh cousin, four times removed to Franklin Delano Roosevelt — the 32nd president of the United States.

* She is the fifth cousin, six times removed to Ulysses S. Grant — the 18th president of the United States.

* She is the sixth cousin, five times removed to Laura Ingalls Wilder — author of the Little House series.

* Her 19th great-grandfather was Louis the Fourth — holy Roman emperor.

In the course of his research, he discovered an obituary of my late uncle — World War II hero Biagio Murano.

Every Christmas, I would visit and share a drink with him. He rarely spoke about his exploits during the war. I guess he had seen enough killing and destruction for both of us. 

According to his obituary, he was a highly decorated war hero who flew missions in the seat of the sluggish B-24 — a bomber that was so difficult to maneuver that pilots would develop huge biceps in their right arms. He participated in the Berlin Airlift and flew 100 missions in a P-51 fighter during the Korean War where he earned the Distinguished Flying Cross. He is also the 254th person in the United States to break the sound barrier in an F-104.

In between his demanding studies and being a member of the ski patrol team, Anthony has unearthed these forgotten tidbits of our family's history. He refuses to stop there and wants to know more about his family's origins.

So do I, and he has taken me there.

But what human being doesn't want to know how their family grew over centuries.

Thanks to technology and libraries, many people are making this quest.

And Anthony is just another pilgrim on a journey to discover his roots.