Goodfellows52: Happy and rocky trails to you

Goodfellows52: Happy and rocky trails to you: Heading up the rocky trail Now that is a huge bolder. Nothing like seeing wildlife along the trail ...

Happy and rocky trails to you

“Do not go where the path may lead; go instead where there is no path and leave a trail”

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Heading up the rocky trail

Now that is a huge bolder.

Nothing like seeing wildlife along the trail

A foundation from an old home

TURNER, Maine — If you are looking for a stroll in the sun at Androscoggin Riverfront Park, take a good look at the ankle-turning trails and rough terrain up ahead.

There are peaks and valleys that will make you feel like you trudging along on a Stairmaster. You will be looking down a lot until you reach walking trails with no hazards. Huge tree roots and protruding rocks are like small landmines along the narrow trails, making it easy for any careful hiker to trip and fall.

"That was a killer trail," said my wife, whose soar back and feet can attest to challenging paths throughout the snaking 12-mile trail.

A weekend ago, we headed to the new park that is still being transformed into a hiker's paradise. The trail runs around the Androscoggin River. For the moment, it is free to the public. Take advantage before the state installs a gate and demands that you pay a park fee.

Beware, though, there aren't many outhouses along the way. I found that out the hard way when I received an urgent call from nature. And the trails are barely marked, and if you miss trees that are color coded, you will be in for long haul back to your car. There are no maps, yet.

I put mother nature on hold when a fellow hiker told me there was a one-holer down the trail a might. I figured it wasn't more than a quarter of mile to find the outhouse. Well, after marching through the wilderness for at least a mile, I started scouting for a secluded place to take of business. I sent my scout, Anthony, up ahead in search of relieve, aah, I mean an outhouse. He was like cavalry marching ahead of a regiment. He moves faster than me. He has youth and sturdier legs on his side.

Just when I thought I would have to take cover in the barren bushes, Anthony found one of the cleanest outhouses I have ever seen in the wilderness. Was there an attendant on duty? Would I have to tip him or her for the use of this backwoods facility?

I sprinted toward the toilet as Anthony kept an eye for Terri. I pleaded with Mother Nature for a reprieve.  I promised to be nicer to people if I made it in time. I swung open the door and made my peace with Mother Nature.

We carefully headed back up the trail, and I was feeling like a new man again.

I have tacked on information from Maine.Gov's Website about the trails:

Trails

• 12 miles of multiple use / shared use trails
  10 miles of hiking trails (6.6 miles shared with mountain bikes)
  6.6 miles of single-track mountain bike trails (existing and planned)

Multi-Use Trail (9.5 miles one-way), a central spine down the Turner parcel, is popular among ATV users, snowmobilers, bicyclists, horseback riders, and hikers. ATVs must use the north entrance parking area for off-loading.

Homestead Trail (4.5-mile loop with a 2.6-mile option; allow 2.5 hours for full loop) provides riverside hiking form the northern parking lot to the Picnic Meadow (1.1 mi.), where you can take the "Harrington Trail" (0.5 mi) and Multi-Use Trail back to the the parking area (1.0 mi.). To extend your hike, continue south on the trail past Picnic Meadow to the juncture with the Multi-Use Trail that leads back to the main entrance (1.8 mi.).

Ridge Trail (6.85 miles) is reached by following the extended Homestead Trail to the Multi-Use Trail (2.0 mi.). Turn left, proceed over a bridge, turn right and continue up to a ledge outcrop overlooking the river (1 mi.). Turn left and descend steeply toward the river on the Ledges Trail (0.4 mi). Turn left on the Multi-Use Trail and return 2.25 miles to the Picnic Meadow, and on to the parking area via the Homestead Trail (1.1 mi.).

Deer Path Trail (8.0 miles) adds an additional loop beyond the Ledges Trail, with the Bradford Loop Trail (0.5 mi) that connects with the Deer Path Trail. At 1.5 miles, bear right at a fork and follow 0.5 mi to Multi-Use Trail. Return via the Homestead Trail (2.0 mi).

Bradford Loop Trail (12.2-mile loop) requires advanced ATV and snowmobiling riding skills. It can be accessed from the north end of the Park by following the Multi-Use Trail.

Bradford Hill Trail (variable length trips, starting with a 9.6-mile loop) offers hiking from the Conant Road entrance. Follow the Multi-Use Trail approximately 3.8 miles, turn left onto Bradford Hill Trail, then turn right on the Bradford Loop Technical Trail and follow the Multi-Use Trail back to the parking area.

Pine Loop Trail (5.7-mile round trip) from the Conant Road parking lot runs along the river. Hike along the Multi-Use Primitive Trail 1.6 miles (please see the map - this is a rough trail section), then veer right to reach the Pine Loop Trail.

Goodfellows52: A letter and a labor of love from our son

Goodfellows52: A letter and a labor of love from our son: "The mother's heart is the child's schoolroom."                                                             - Henry...

A letter and a labor of love from our son

"The mother's heart is the child's schoolroom."                                                           - Henry Ward Beecher

AUBURN, Maine — Words start wars, bring peace and can, on some occasions, make a 6-foot-3, 350-pound former football player weep.

My son penned a remarkable tribute to his mother on Mother's Day. His words knocked this gridiron center to the floor. I felt like I was sideswiped by a nose tackle after I just snapped the ball to my quarterback. 

This letter is one from the heart from a young man who means so much to his parents. I knew our high school sophomore could write, but when I reread it, I realized Anthony was paying us back with his genuine love for his mother.

I won't reveal the contents of his letter. It is personal and it is for our eyes only, and it is a keeper.

If parents are selfish, abusive and oblivious to a child's needs, kids will pay them back in full, and their revenge will last a lifetime.

I guarantee it. I have witnessed their anger in action, and it is damn ugly.

Whatever it is worth, our son is the product of a home where love, kindness and his needs come first. He is also an anachronism, if you will. We raised him with books, museums and long incursions into the Maine woods and endless days at the Pine Tree State's beautiful beaches. We shunned video games and cable television. We have found those mediums of entertainment a waste of our time.

So what did we get in return? Well, he has been to paying us back with great grades, kindness toward others and continues to demonstrate his belief in the greater good— something the U.S. Congress has apparently forgot about.

There is no luck here. Anthony's demeanor and thirst for knowledge has been nurtured by a mother who has her priorities straight when it comes to raising a child.

This mother has her act together and Anthony has become a one-man show in the classroom.

Anthony's letter is better than any store-bought card or extravagant gift.  It will be framed, and you can bet it will be sitting on Terri's dresser three decades from now. 

In the letter, Anthony said he will continue to be grateful to his mother for her love and devotion.

We are grateful he feels this way about an extraordinary person — his mom.

Goodfellows52: A family affair and a city that remains strong

Goodfellows52: A family affair and a city that remains strong: REVERE, Mass. — I was raised on this beach. Time and weather has changed its appearance, but its sandy shores will always b...

Goodfellows52: A family affair and a city that remains strong

Goodfellows52: A family affair and a city that remains strong: REVERE, Mass. — I was raised on this beach. Time and weather has changed its appearance, but its sandy shores will always b...

A family affair and a city that remains strong

"The family is a haven in a heartless world." 

Attributed to Christopher Lasch

REVERE, Mass. — I was raised on this beach. Time and weather has changed its appearance, but its sandy shores will always be remembered as my playground during the summers of my youth.

For years, my mother whispered obscenities under her breath as my father navigated our big-ass Buick down a clogged Revere Street on steamy summer days.

If my family didn't leave early, we endured a 20-minute ride through stop-and-go traffic. We didn't have air conditioning in the car. The heat was stifling in our oven-baked automobile. It was a short journey through hell.

Growing up in a coastal community and bathing in the chilly waters of the Atlantic was worth running the gauntlet to spend a day at Revere Beach.

Last weekend, we walked on the warm sand and ignored a chilly sea breeze at America's first public beach. Everybody who is anybody was out and about, and there seemed to be a sense of relief on the streets. People were cordial and the bright sun contributed to my good mood. A couple of weeks have passed since the Boston Marathon bombings. The confusion and fear has subsided despite the ongoing investigation into the attacks.

My father's struggle

There were three important reasons why I visited Revere. We threw a small celebration for one of the U.S. Navy's finest — my niece, who married a Navy guy from the great state of Missouri. It was a fine, sunny cool day on the deck of my sister's home. The Boston skyline is clearly visible from her home. It was an opportunity to meet the in-laws, who also happen to be nice people, too. There was a buffet of Chinese food for well-wishers.

I also spent quality time with my dad who is trying to stay a step ahead of Alzheimer's, but this affliction is malicious and relentless. This is man who earned a master's degree in history. He was a successful high school teacher and baseball coach for 42 years, and here he was struggling to utter simple pronouns,

But my father and I had a memorable Sunday morning after my neice's celebration. Any good day with my dad is a blessing, because there are times when his thoughts are clear and his words come easy, and those moments of clarity mean so much to me.

Big Al speaks quietly as he searches for the right words, which evaporate before he can say them. It hurts him and all of us. We are helpless and often feel hopeless because there is no cure for dementia.

Back on the beach

I tried to coax my father to come along with us to the beach. He politely refused, so we bought him a hot dog and fries from Kelly's Roast Beef — a fast-food joint that claims to be the creator of the first roast beef sandwich. 

Anybody from the Greater Boston area is familiar with Kelly's scrumptious reputation for seafood. Their fish, clam and scallop plates are unbelievable, but you will need to take a small loan to pay for them. Kelly's clam chowder is worth the price, especially on a cold New England day.

When fear and evil strike out

Every time a terrorist strikes, our openness shrinks, freedoms dwindle, and our feelings of suspicion and revenge rise to the top of our emotions.

Four days after we visited the Bay State, my son returned to Boston for a class field trip. Anthony's fearless history teacher had the class visit the Freedom Trail, Paul Revere House, Bunker Hill monument and U.S.S. Constitution. Before he boarded the U.S. Navy's oldest commissioned ship, his classmates were told to remove their belt buckles, searched and advised that any visitor who leaves a bag unattended will be asked to leave the ship.

These guys were not fooling around!

The Navy has always kept a watchful eye on the Constitution, and rightfully so. But due to the Boston Marathon bombings that killed four people and wounded hundreds, law enforcement agencies are on edge, and that means we are all under constant scrutiny when these bastards act.

But their cruel acts didn't prevent a class of wonderful students from Edward Little High School from visiting Beantown last Thursday.  Sure, I worried about my son and the rest of those kids, but when we cower in our homes, terrorists win.

Terror works for a little while, but resilient Americans won't be dictated by fear, and that's how you beat evil.

Just ask the Nazis!

Goodfellows52: And justice for all in Watertown tonight

Goodfellows52: 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  ...

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!