Downeast and a mountain full of memories

"All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.”

– Martin Buber, Austrian philosopher

Cadillac looms in the distance as we head up to the top. Anthony enjoys the view from the top.

ELLSWORTH/BAR HARBOR/MOUNT DESERT ISLAND, Maine — We roamed a mountain top where the heavens are at your fingertips and hiked a demanding trail at a national park that resurrected a forgotten boyhood memory.

We met a Highlander who played the bagpipes free of charge on a grassy bluff overlooking a short stretch of beach and marveled at Mother Nature's handy work — the stunning shoreline of Bar Harbor.

During our three-day adventure, I was introduced to helpful park rangers and wonderful people from across the globe. We travelled 350 miles and walked miles of beaches and quiet, secluded woods where you could hear leaves ruffle and creaking branches of decades-old trees without interruptions from the noise of a big city.

Our vacation destination was only 150 miles from our home. We stayed at a comfortable inn, but I was confounded when I saw prophylactics and decks of cards in a snack machine. I guess if you are in the mood for love and an all-night poker game, why run out to a store.  Amenities were few and far between for guests, but the employees were pleasant. The ice machine spit out cubes at a rate of two per minute. It could take a lifetime before you filled a bowl of ice. I wondered if the town was rationing water due to the heat wave. And there is a newly constructed road that forces tourists to take a one-mile roundabout to get back to an inn. I don't know why the city of Ellsworth agreed to invest in this engineering debacle.

We had no intension of hanging around our temporary residence. It was a place to sleep — nothing more. Bar Harbor, Mount Desert Island and Acadia National Park were our true destinations.

Before we left the inn, there was the unpacking of the car, which is as enjoyable as packing the car. We took 45 minutes to decompress and agreed to visit Bar Harbor's numerous shops and walk the gravel paths around the shoreline.

Harbor lights

We visited a used book store because we dislike Kindles. We will only read print. The prices were reasonable and I enjoyed listening to Terri and the owner discuss Maine's famous authors. You can't take a step without bumping into an antique or used-book store.

The next stop was a clothing store to buy shirts sporting Bar Harbor or Acadia. We weren't leaving empty handed without some sort of souvenir. There are more than a handful of restaurants, but we are always on a budget and settled for sandwiches at a local deli. Terri said it was the best veggie wrap she has ever eaten, but I was more impressed with their home-made muffins.

An hour of shopping was all we could handle, so we walked down a narrow street where magnificent homes with magnificent gardens lined a road that led to the shoreline. We followed gravel paths and marveled at numerous islands in the distance and coastal rock formations.

We studied a huge ferry and a pair of Dahlgren-Rodman cannons, apparently leftovers from the Civil War. The twin iron behemoths face the shoreline — a warning to enemy ships.

Walking through town we noticed Cadillac Mountain standing high above the landscape. For residents, I am sure the mountain is like an old friend. We would tackle the summit the next day.

The hot evening sun was getting to us so we did the double quick (Civil War talk) to get to our air-conditioned car. My son, who can read maps better than Christopher Columbus, guided us back to Route 3A. We were racing down the road when we saw a man in a kilt carrying bagpipes on a bluff above a tiny beach. We debated for the next few minutes whether to turn the car around and introduce ourselves to this sharply dressed Highlander.

Anthony urged us to head back to the bluff. A few moments later, we were walking through tall grass where David Weeda was about to perform. 

I waved and he introduced himself. I asked him why he enjoys playing the pipes at this spot. He said it is the perfect scene to play his instrument. I think he enjoyed serenading the calming sea. He gave us a brief history of it and he agreed to play the pipes for us. "Scotland the Brave" sounded incredible against the backdrop of the shoreline.

I was impressed with his talent, showmanship and his knowledge of the ancient instrument. Weeda is also the owner of the Williams Pond Lodge(williamspondlodge.com), which is located on 20 beautiful acres in Bucksport.

His playing drew a handful of onlookers and traffic slowed when drivers caught a glimpse of the Highlander on Route 3A. We reluctantly bid Weeda farewell as a curious crowd gathered on the beach. It was a privilege for this family of three to meet a musician whose iron lungs and compassion make his wind instrument come to life.

On top of the world

Acadia National Park would be the highlight of my stay. I wanted to hike at least one trail and tour the top of Cadillac Mountain. Anthony acted as our tour guide. He is like having GPS in the back seat.

There was a poignant reason why I wanted to visit the summit again. I was a 12-year-old when my dad, who is facing a losing battle with Alzheimer's, took the family to Acadia on a short summer vacation. My sisters don't remember a thick fog that spoiled our view at the top. This visit would become a quiet tribute to my father, who no longer knows me, as well as a second chance to appreciate the National Park systems with my family.

A brief history

Sprawling Acadia (49,600 acres) occupies most of the land on Mount Desert Island, and Cadillac Mountain towers above the tress

For active people who like to travel by bike, there are 45 miles of trails. Visitors who travel on foot can hike up to 110 miles of trails. There are also miles of paved roads and visitors can kayak many pristine lakes.

The wealthy made the area a tourist destination during the turn of the 20th Century. The Rockefellers, Astors and Vanderbilts all built summer getaways, but grew concerned that the area was being overdeveloped. The rich and famous were instrumental in making Acadia a national park, thanks to President Wilson in 1916.

Cadillac Mountain was certainly the highlight our visit, but there was also Thunder Hole to see and an opportunity to hike a trail at a national park. Cadillac's highest point is 1,528 feet and offers majestic views of Mount Desert and its smaller islands that dot the landscape. Peeking over the edge at the summit can be dizzying for visitors like my wife who have a healthy fear of heights.

The greatest natural show on earth

We stopped at a visitors' information center to pay for our $20 ticket to witness Acadia's numerous wonders. The ticket is good for seven days, and I feel the price is a real bargain. The park's caretakers — rangers — showed us where to go and what to do on a map.

We entered the park and Anthony guided us along a path that leads to a man-made bluff that located in the shadow of Cadillac. We took dozens of photos and noticed a posh home that commands an incredible view of the ocean.

It was time to visit Sand Beach where the water temperature was a leg-numbing 56 degrees. We found a spot in the stifling heat. Towering walls of ancient stone surrounded the pristine beach. Despite frigid water, Anthony took a dip, which was an eye-opening experience for my intrepid son.

I didn't want to broil in the hot sun so I looked for a shady trail to hike. The path ran parallel to the road. Climbing up the path was like trudging along on a Stairmaster, and the heat made it that much more difficult as I marched to the top. I rapidly made my way along a path that winds around behind high cliffs overlooking the beach, giving hikers awesome views of the ocean. For three miles, I snapped a handful of photos and took moments out my hike to step gingerly down paths to clearings where rocky ledges provided incredible views of the beach from about 300 feet above the water.

The shade disappeared and I decided to reappear on the beach and soak my sweaty head in frigid ocean water. My family had enough of the hot sun and we took refuge in an air-conditioned car and headed toward Cadillac. The six-mile drive to the top of Cadillac put my driving skills to the test, but if you fail to negotiate the numerous hairpin turns on the way up or down, you will end up like "Tounces the Driving Cat" and will plummet off the side of the mountain. 

I thought my wife was about to bail out at 1,000 feet and without parachute.

We found a parking spot and left the comfort our air-conditioned car and began walking around the top in searing heat. 

I suddenly felt like I was on top of the world when I looked down for the first time. My wife decided to remain in the middle of the summit while Anthony and I wandered from one location to another to get a panoramic view. Cadillac offered a variety of views and a visitor can see for miles. What I found interesting was the many small islands that dot the shoreline. I also noticed my hearing was muffled because our altitude. By the time we returned to the base of the mountain, our ears popped a couple times after we swallowed.

Terri was having an anxiety attack on the way down, but I was thinking about my dad and a dwindling memory of our family trip nearly four decades ago. I was also grateful I got a chance to revisit the mountain with my family.

My dad no longer remembers me, but a mountain in Maine will never let me forget him or our trip to the top on a hot summer day.

Goodfellows52: Pay dirt

Goodfellows52: Pay dirt: "A garden is a grand teacher. It teaches patience and careful watchfulness; it teaches industry and thrift; above all it tea...

Pay dirt

"A garden is a grand teacher. It teaches patience and careful watchfulness; it teaches industry and thrift; above all it teaches entire trust."

Gertrude Jekyll

AUBURN — I spent the afternoon playing in dirt like a child enjoying himself being caked in mud.

Dirt is cool stuff. Life comes from it, and as General Electric used to say in its commercials, they bring good things to life.

So don't I!

Carefully cultivated soil is life. During the winter, I have fed my loyal worms and hungry soil orange, potato and banana skins, along with wood ash. In the summer, I am like mole, digging potholes throughout my garden to bury scraps like egg shells and coffee grinds.

We are just a few weeks away from the growing season in New England. Nothing like fresh summer vegetables, and I grow the best stuff right here in my community. My tomatoes taste like sweet pares with little acidity that you get in the store-bought stuff

But if it wasn't for this beautiful dirt, I would have to rely on a grocery store to purchase vegetables from distant states.

No thanks. That's like buying fish from China. Really!

Right about now, some knucklehead is saying to himself, "Who has got the frigging time for this crap."

Hence the word — knucklehead.

Shut the frigging TV off and go outside and look what Mother Nature handed you in your own backyard. Start gardening and I guarantee you will loose weight and feel better, as well getting in touch with the Neanderthal side of your origins.

What do you mean you don't have time. Stay off Facebook and ignore Twitter and you will have time to get your damn hands dirty and get a good dose of vitamin D. The end result will be produce that is not tainted by pesticides.

The warm days that have finally arrived draw me to my yard and garden that is in dire need of tilling.

Terri and I teamed up to plant fresh lettuce in pots and decided to grow it inside our back porch, which faces the sun and often acts like a plant nursery. We laughed and discussed Anthony's night out at the prom as we plunged our hands into a fresh bag of potting soil. We also purchased Swiss chard and sun flower seeds and planted them as well in small trays. The sun flowers are Russian giants that grow to 10 feet tall.

We also spent some money on buying three new raspberry plants, which I immediately planted next to my blueberry bushes. 

In the next few days, I will knock on my next-door neighbor's door and ask to him use his industrial tiller. This beast tears apart everything in its path, aerating the soil and turning weeds into fertilizer. My lawn needs mowing every five days thanks to May's monsoons, but the grass, which offers nitrogen, is bagged and dumped the garden to smother weeds on the soil floor.

But it all comes back to good dirt that can nurtured a productive garden.

Thanks to a cold and relentless winter, the ground is still cold, but after the last weekend in May, the time will be right to plant a garden.

That's when I get down and dirty.

Goodfellows52: A night to remember

Goodfellows52: A night to remember: "If you bungle raising your children, I don't think whatever else you do matters very much." —  Jackie Kennedy ...

Goodfellows52: A night to remember

Goodfellows52: A night to remember: "If you bungle raising your children, I don't think whatever else you do matters very much." —  Jackie Kennedy ...

A night to remember

"If you bungle raising your children, I don't think whatever else you do matters very much."

— Jackie Kennedy

AUBURN — The last time I looked my son was racing across the parlor floor wearing nothing but a diaper and huge grin on his handsome face. 

That was 17 years ago.

Last night, Anthony was dressed in a tuxedo and looking more dapper and refined than James Bond — a fictional, fussy British Secret Service agent who insisted his martinis be shaken, not stirred.

Writer Ian Fleming would have been impressed by the appearance of this fine young man who decided to go it alone and attend the Edward Little High School prom without a date. That takes courage, but leaves him with many options on a warm spring evening.

Yesterday was filled with Legos, models, ships and endless trips to the park for this family of three. There were tales of pirates and long-forgotten wars. Summers were spent on Maine's pristine beaches and making numerous road trips to Boston to visit our parents.

I guess some parents look forward to the day when their children move out. I am in no hurry, especially after becoming a stay-at-home dad, working nights for a newspaper in Maine and playing army men with my son by day.

You see, raising my son never gets old for me.

Things changed in a hurry his sophomore year when he discovered high school had so much to offer. He joined this, that and the other thing and decided to become an athlete. It was his idea to take the initiative and get involved at school and in his community, with encouragement from us, of course.

Terri and I both felt pride and awe in a kid who continues to astound and impress us. If you don't feel this way about your child, you are not doing the most important job in the world right, and children always suffer from parents' aloofness.

It is not easy for me to watch him make his way in the world. We have a long and loving history between us, and if I had the money and power of a president, I would have him protected by the United States Secret Service for the rest of his life.

Allowing a child to move on in his life and make his own decisions without your interference is hard to take, especially after you spent a couple years living in fear when they begin walking. When he leaves for college, the world will witness a fearless 6-foot-3 former football player go to pieces and sob like an old woman at a funeral. A good friend said Anthony's absence will probably kill me. 

I hope my friend is wrong. I want to see how it all turns out for him.

Before Anthony took the 10-minute ride to Lost Valley — a small ski resort located in the hills of Auburn — we took a dozen pictures of the handsome lad in our green backyard. Anthony is also a ski patroler for Lost Valley, but the only terrain he would be patrolling was the dance floor on Saturday night.

Terri and I often wonder where had 17 really good years had gone and why Anthony's high school years felt as if we were racing across the galaxy in the Starship Enterprise at warp drive.

I was told that many students didn't want to attend  the event and thought the cost and all the hoopla was a waste of time. What is wrong with spending four hours being young and dancing the night away without the worry of paying a mortgage and thinking about going to work the next day?

I know all too well that we only pass this way once in our short lives. But I also understand this honor student is well on his way to doing something wonderful with his life.

Watching him don a tuxedo and spend an evening with friends was just another proud moment for his mom and dad.

And our son really does look good in a tux.

Goodfellows52: Cleaning house!

Goodfellows52: Cleaning house!: "If you can't use it, lose it." — Tony Blasi AUBURN — I have always led a Spartan life and have li...

Cleaning house!

"If you can't use it, lose it."

— Tony Blasi

AUBURN — I have always led a Spartan life and have lived by my own motto: "If you can't use it, lose it."

And I tend to lose it every spring when I go on a tear and clean out closets full of crap that ends up in a recycling bin or handed off to Goodwill, hoping my trash becomes somebody's treasure. 

If there is any way I can avoid sending my spring-cleaning relics to the dump, I will give it away or leave it on Goodwill's doorstep. Right now, we are down to one bag of trash a week, and the rest our waste ends up in a recycling bins or in my vegetable garden. I used to hold a yard sale, but it was too labor intensive and a damn hassle.

Becoming a pack rat and cluttering my home with stuff that eventually becomes an obstacle course has never entered my mind. Getting rid of useless things that usually occupy valuable living space in my modest, three-bedroom home gives me a sense of accomplishment and offers me some breathing room.

If I suddenly found myself joining the richest four percent even though I have no such aspirations, I would live the same frugal life. I would travel more, but owning a large home or an expensive vehicle seems absurd to me. Who would I want to impress and why would I give a damn about impressing anyone with my sudden wealth.

If a fat wallet impresses people, then the cost is too high to maintain a relationship with human beings who practice Gordon Gekko's creed: "Greed is good."

I can do without people who eventually become another kind of clutter in my life.

Sometimes, spring cleaning is a journey of self-discovery. Going through a closest packed with junk will sometimes yield a treasure trove of fond memories.

Last week, we emptied out a closest full of stuffed animals. Being sentimental, we kept a handful of toy creatures that meant so much to us, but the rest we shipped off to Goodwill. It was impossible to part with the stuffed animals that I won at carnivals for my son.

Going through the closest also gave me a chance to rediscover some of my mother's prized possessions — old Life magazines and a Revere Journal supplement celebrating Revere Beach's 100-year anniversary. It was published in 1996.  The beach was her second home and I can see why she saved a copy of Revere Beach's anniversary.

I read the entire supplement and couldn't help think about my mother (she died four years ago) who valued the written word and always found newspapers enlightening and worth the 50 cents to read them.

I started reading old Christmas and birthday cards that have piled up in a cloth bag. I refused to put them in a recycling bin. They are from people who passed on, but my memories of them remain strong, and I'll am not eager to cut my ties with the past, so the cards will stay in the closet.

I will throw anything away that no longer serves a purpose in my brief life, but letters, articles and books from my past will forever occupy space in my home.

That's the law at 53 Valley Street.

The letters are like a recorded history of my childhood, the marriage to my wife, Terri, the miraculous birth of my son, Anthony and the death of countless people who I loved. The old magazines are also like another timeline of my life.

So the letters, articles and cards stay, and everything else goes. After all, in the end when I become old and frail, all I will have are wonderful memories, and that new TV won't mean a damn thing to me as my life comes to a close.

Goodfellows52: Stargazing and giving a terrorism a run for its mo...

Goodfellows52: Stargazing and giving a terrorism a run for its mo...: "The Earth is just too small and fragile a basket for the human race to keep all its eggs in."                               ...

Stargazing and giving a terrorism a run for its money

"The Earth is just too small and fragile a basket for the human race to keep all its eggs in."

                                                                                                                                — Robert Heinlein

"Terrorism is the tactic of demanding the impossible, and demanding it at gunpoint."

                                                                                                                           — Christopher Hitchens

AUBURN — Call us a couple of nerdy stargazers who enjoy scanning the universe for things that go bump in the dark skies above the Pine Tree State.

Actually, don't use the word nerdy when addressing me or you and I will have a big problem! It could get ugly.

For the past two nights, Anthony and I bundled up and stood outside our home, patiently waiting and watching for the International Space Station to pass over New England.

We learned online that it would streak across Maine at the usual 17,500 miles per hour to remain in orbit or plummet to earth. 

We kept a vigil despite the chill in the air, waiting for that fast-moving dot in the sky to race across the darkness and thrill a father and son who never miss an opportunity to check out a man-made object traversing the heavens.

Some people say studying the stars is a straight waste of mankind's time. I say bully for NASA, which put a bunch of brave guys on the moon and brought humanity closer to understanding the universe's randomness.

We as a species have always been adventurous and have taken bold risks to see what is over the next ridge during our evolution as human beings.

Space, like the ocean, is a new frontier that must be explored or man's quest for knowledge will become stagnant. There is enlightenment in the stars and all of us should keep looking up at the vast darkness known as the universe.

My son and I stood outside with our cameras and watched in awe as the space station passed above us from a height of approximately 255 miles.

I was hoping for a shout-out from the astronauts as they raced through the night. Sure enough, the station passed over us at 7:54 Eastern Standard Time and didn't disappoint two fans on two chilly, April evenings on a quiet street in central Maine.

Giving terrorism a run for its money

No matter how hard terrorists try, they can't repress a nation that raised the bar for all of humanity when our founding fathers wrote this one sentence in the Declaration of Independence: "All men are created equal."

That one phrase is why the Boston Marathon will be held on another Patriots' Day under the watchful eyes of 3,500 law enforcement officers.

All those pathetic and misguided brothers did was make a nation stronger. What I will never understand is how two young men could target an athletic event that defines peace. Runners from every walk of life and religion come to the Bay State to compete in an event that brings people together. 

There is no question America also has a past littered with dark moments in its history, but it is a nation that tries hard and still stands as the cradle of liberty.

When the starter's gun goes off in Hopkinton on Monday morning, we will be cheering for the runners as well as for a nation and a city that hasn't missed a step in spite of an ugly act of terrorism.

Goodfellows52: When a nation's ship comes in

Goodfellows52: When a nation's ship comes in: We may have all come on different ships, but we're in the same boat now. Martin Luther King, Jr. BATH — My ...

When a nation's ship comes in

We may have all come on different ships, but we're in the same boat now.

Martin Luther King, Jr.

In a way, the Zumwalt looks like the old ironclad C.S. Virginia.

My son taking in the ceremonies as the the Zumwalt's crew is about to parade before the audience.

The Zumwalt's guns mean business.

BATH — My son learned about the christening of one of the newest U.S. naval warships from a dedicated English teacher at Edward Little High School.

We thought it would be a great experience to witness a small piece of history transpire at Bath Iron Works, which is located 25 miles from our home in Auburn.

After all, we both share a fascination and appreciation for military hardware and its history. Anthony has never lost his fascination with ships. When a tug boat was heading for open water down the Kennebec River during the christening, my son nudged my shoulder and directed my attention to the tug.

My son got clearance from his track coach, who is also a history teacher, to attend the christening. History teachers will do that for athletes who appreciate the past and have a genuine interest in the maritimes.

When we got a good look at the destroyer, we couldn't stop thinking about ironclads. This ship was indeed a throwback from era when wooden warships would quickly disappear in the fog of time.

The colossal destroyer U.S.S. Zumwalt looks like a damn ironclad left over from the American Civil War.

It's angular shapes, austere appearance and the protruding bow reminds me of crude iron warships that policed the seven seas for nearly 30 years before dreadnoughts appeared and traded powerful rounds with each other during World War I.

Open any history book about naval warfare during the Civil War and you will find a picture of the Confederate ironclad C.S.S. Virginia, which slugged it out with the U.S. Monitor for two days in March, 1862 at Hampton Roads, Virginia. The warships were the products of novel designs in naval architecture and engineering, and explained why wooden warships became obsolete in a matter of a few years.

Wood was no match for cold iron.

You can see the startling resemblance between the Zumwalt and Virginia, but of course ironclads would be no match for the $3 billion, 610-foot destroyer which was christened at Bath Iron Works on a warm Saturday morning before a crowd of nearly 6,000 people.

When this big bastard comes your way, find cover in a cave or better yet — leave town. This ship has stealth written all over it and is loaded with technology and firepower that makes this an intimidating and formidable weapon.

I am grateful this leviathan is on our side. Other warships just might go the other way or give the Zumwalt a wide berth when this behemoth appears on the horizon.

The destroyer features a 155mm gun that fires GPS-guided shells at targets more than 60 miles away. The skin of ship makes it harder to be detected by radar and is equipped with long-range missiles. Thanks to the ship's technology, only 158 sailors are required to man a destroyer with a displacement of 15,000 tons and travels at 30 knots. The bow is designed to cut through the water to make this warship sleek and fast. This is a ship with a low profile and perhaps a harder target to attack.

We walked around the huge shipyard before the Zumwalt came into view. Its size and shape is awesome. I snapped away with my Nikon, which also takes high-definition movies. I commend and marvel at the men and women who toil at BIW building these state-of-the-art warships. I had the privilege of viewing the Zumwalt's sister ship — the Michael Monsoor. It is amazing how skilled shipbuilders can put these giant steel puzzles together and create a warship.

But before we witnessed the christening, a slew of dignitaries and politicians began a long procession to the podium to make speeches that were sometimes too long and short on substance. Some of the speakers could have used a good editor with a sturdy red pen.

We crossed paths with a handful of brave sailors who will someday pilot this ship as it travels into harm's way. It takes brave men and women to go to sea for long periods of time. Sure, it's their duty, but this isn't just about taking orders or racing to their posts when battle stations is sounded throughout the ship. It is often a passion and dedication that many civilians can't comprehend.

Anthony and I kept hearing the name Captain James Kirk keeping popping up in some of the speeches. Was William Shatner also present to honor the crew of the Zumwalt? I wondered why Spock, Bones, Scotty and Chekov were not on board, and by the way, where the heck was the Enterprise?

It didn't take us long to figure out Captain James Kirk is a U.S. Naval Academy graduate who will be the first skipper of the Zumwalt, which is named after Admiral Elmo Zumwalt Jr., who shook up the U.S. Navy by getting this particular branch of the service to embrace equal rights.

After two hours of speeches, Anthony and I stood in the crowd as Zumwalt's daughters broke a couple of bottles of the good stuff against the modern ship thick skin.

Was it worth the two-hour wait to witness history at BIW?

This small moment in history brought a father and son closer together and triggered a long and deep conversation during the ride home between two men who truly understand why the past is forever linked to the present and future.

Goodfellows52: My year in review

Goodfellows52: My year in review: "Maybe when you go back, Martin, you'll find that there are merry-go-rounds and band concerts where you are. Maybe you haven&#39...

My year in review

"Maybe when you go back, Martin, you'll find that there are merry-go-rounds and band concerts where you are. Maybe you haven't been looking in the right place. You've been looking behind you, Martin. Try looking ahead."

                       — Dialogue from the Twilight Zone episode  "Walking Distance"

AUBURN, Maine — I discovered a worn Christmas card at the bottom of a box used for storing our treasure trove of holiday ornaments.

The thoughtful card was from my dad who is engaged in a cruel battle with Alzheimer's — a disease of the brain that dissolves memories and renders all human beings stricken with it helpless.

I opened the card and read the inscription: "Have a great holiday. We love all of you."

I know it wasn't his handwriting because he can no longer hold a pen, but it was something he would say to all of us each Christmas. He has always been a man of few words, but his loyalty and integrity is beyond reproach.

Of course, reading the card stirred all those memories of my mom and dad. My parents are no longer together. My mom passed three years ago, leaving us all with an emptiness that never goes away. Big Al still has home-run moments of lucidity, but there are other instances when it is impossible for him to speak in complete sentences.

I admire people who take down the Christmas tree and pack all those ornaments away the day after the holiday and move on to the next year without batting an eye. I look forward to the future, but I often find myself looking over my shoulder for the past.

The week between Christmas and New Year's Day is like purgatory for me. I am relieved the holiday has passed, but bundling up all that holiday cheer in plastic tubs and placing them on the cold cellar floor leaves me melancholic. I know another year has past that was filled with great moments in our lives. These memories have been recorded in photographs or on video clips.

I have been lucky to experience these moments that come so fast and furious and disappear so quickly before I can savor them.

That's why a camera comes in handy.

I am not a prisoner of my past, but I am a sentimental fool when it comes to my family.

This was my week to review a year that gave me hope but was also tinged with despair. 

Isn't that always the way in life?

Philadelphia Freedom

We threw caution to the wind and hopped in a souped-up, red Chevy Impala and cut across seven states for a 1,300-mile joy ride that took us all the way to Philadelphia and Gettysburg. My 17-year-old son served as our on-board navigator and acted as a chaperon for his two loving parents who acted like two crazy kids.

During our voyage to the City of Brotherly Love, we visited:

@ The Independence Sea Port Museum

@ The Liberty Bell (Did you know there is a crack in it? Really, there is!)

@ Independence Hall (It gave me a new appreciated for my founding fathers and strengthened my disdain toward a pathetic Congress.)

@ The Borse (Philadelphia's version of Faneuil Hall in Boston)

@ The Olympia (Admiral Dewey's ship that participated in the Spanish American War. I satisfied my son's dream by touring this behemoth battle wagon from the past)

@ Crossing the Susquehanna River. (We took the Pennsylvania Turnpike to Gettysburg, which is surrounded by the Allegheny Mountains)

@The Becuna (It is a World War II submarine that is docked next the Olympia.)

@ Ben Franklin's grave (We threw a few pennies on the big fellas' tombstone.)

@ Staying at the Wyndham hotel (Great people, good food and a four-stars stay as far as I am concerned.)

@Gettysburg (It was worth the 268-mile round trip from our hotel in Philly. It worth spending an entire day in 97-degree heat to check out Little Roundtop and the rest of the battle sites.)

@ Driving through Amish country (I appreciate people who live a simple life and refuse to complicate their lives with technology and greed.)

@Crossing the George Washington Bridge, seeing the World Trade Center One stand out above the New York City skyline, and then crossing the Ben Franklin Bridge as we headed into Philadelphia.

Revere Beach

We wanted to visit with Big Al and see fireworks on July Fourth. We found a way to watch three major pyrotechnic displays that lit up Revere Beach.

We sat on the wall as waves people shuffled up and down the boardwalk on typical hot night in the city. Fireworks could be scene from Marblehead, Swampscott and Boston, and the price of admission was free.

Beach baby

We hung out at beaches across New England and hiked trails at several state parks in the Pine Tree State.

World politics

Don't get me started. This Congress played a huge roll in making every American feeling like they were suffering from an endless stomach virus. There are reports that the economy is getting better. Tell that to the homeless, whose numbers continue to grow, and to the people who can't find a well-paying, full-time job. To top it off, the NSA is recording phone calls of all Americans. Is it subversive when my wife calls me at work to remind me to bring home milk?

The Future

I have no New Year's resolutions, but I have a pretty good idea what I want to do next. Right now, I am having a helluva time watching my son grow and become a fine young man. I am damn lucky I am married to a woman who has the patience and love to keep the two men in her life on the right track, and my dad still knows my name.