A veteran and a fine father

Check out this link to a Boston Globe story about my father

https://www.bostonglobe.com/metro/obituaries/2014/11/26/blasi-longtime-revere-high-baseball-coach-formerly-led-state-coaches-association/xa7uUxaeyfa1jtsHodQ3DK/story.html

Imagine you are this kid from the Greater Boston area with your heart set on attending college when a letter suddenly arrives in the mail from Uncle Sam ordering you to report for duty in 1954.

Albert John Blasi was from an Italian family and grew up in Revere, Mass. He lived for baseball and grew up watching DiMaggio, Williams and Yaz at Fenway Park. He wanted to coach and teach history and loved betting on the ponies. Gambling is like a second sport in Revere, which featured Suffolk Downs thoroughbred racing and the Wonderland Dog Track.

Those two betting establishments were a haven for gamblers like my father, whose other passion was sports.

He and his wife, Louise, attended Ted Williams’ final game of his career on Sept. 28, 1960. I was about six months old. Years later, my mom mentioned their visit to Fenway in passing.

He was drafted by the United States Army in 1954 and was sent to occupied Germany to help the country’s denizens get back on their feet after a brutal war. He served with the Big Red One, which was also known as the First Infantry Division during peacetime. The Fighting First took hell in World War II, landing at Omaha Beach on D-Day.

My father missed serving in the Korean war by a year. I missed serving in Vietnam by a couple of years. We were both lucky but always honored those who picked up a gun in a war.

He became a sharpshooter, but he had no intention of making a career in the service.

His baseball dream came true in Germany. He was playing in a pick-up game on the base when he drove the ball out of the park. A colonel saw him and was so impressed with my father’s baseball skill that the officer instructed the leader of Blasi’s unit to relieve him of certain duties so he could play for the post teams.

I have a picture of him playing catch with his post team at Zeppelin Field in Germany. The field was a rallying point for Hitler's armies. Behind my father is a destroyed swastika.

For the next year, he was living the dream — playing baseball in Germany and skiing in Austria.

He enjoyed lugging around a bat and glove instead of a Browning automatic.

After his two-year stint, he resigned from the Army with great joy. He was a civilian and America’s pastime made him a prisoner of his passion for the game.

My father told me the story about his last day in the Army.

“Anthony, the sergeant said, ‘We all know Al Blasi is leaving us and will miss the army.’ Everyone laughed in my unit.”

He headed home and straight to Suffolk University where he majored in history on the G.I Bill’s dime. He became a devoted teacher and ended up coaching the Revere High School varsity baseball team for 42 years.

He was also devoted to his four children and wife. He was a coach known for his kindness and devotion to his players and community.

To me, he was my dad and somebody I could always count on.

Albert John Blasi died of Alzheimer’s (also known as The Long Goodbye) on Nov. 8, 2014. He served his country, but more importantly, he loved all of us.

There is not a day when I don’t think about my parents — many times with tears in my eyes from a heavy heart.

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NPR’s reporting shines a light in the Upside Down

"Natural disasters are terrifying - that loss of control, this feeling that something is just going to randomly end your life for absolutely no reason is terrifying. But, what scares me is the human reaction to it and how people behave when the rules of civility and society are obliterated." 

— Eli Roth

AUBURN — For two and half days, it felt like we were out of the loop after a nasty Nor’easter sideswiped Maine and left thousands of the state’s denizens groping in the dark the past week.

Just before I watched the lights fade from every room (thank you, Moody Blues), the annoying radio alarm sounded revelry at 6 a.m.

I bounded out of bed and told my annoyed wife that we still had power.

I should have kept my mouth shut.

Five minutes later, I saw a flash of light outside the bedroom window and watched the radio clock and night light go out.

Silence filled the room. 

The neighborhood went dark and I was drowning in anxiety, not knowing where my next cup of coffee would come from in these perilous and dark times.

We felt like we stumbled upon the portal to the Upside Down. I also realized I didn’t possess No. 11’s power turn the frigging electricity back on. 

“Oh damn it,” I said as I reached for the flashlight. More four-letter words followed when I bumped into objects along the way to a pitch-black kitchen.

Cable and Internet were out of action and a dormant coffee maker denied me my morning jolt of caffeine. 

The power was gone. I was unhappy, cold and the sudden quietness was already getting on my nerves.

My wife and I would snipe at each other by candlelight for the next two days. We hung out anywhere we could to get the Internet. We visited the Lewiston Library and drank coffee at Dunkin just for the WiFi. We were like wandering, energy vampires looking to suck up free Internet on somebody else’s dime.

We weren’t overreacting. News stories were breaking that Mueller and his team of lawyers started making arrests in the Russian controversy. We were gleeful that Mueller’s band of merry men were making headway, but we were still on the sidelines with no TV or Internet. 

That’s when we turned to National Public Radio for our news and a chance to cheer on Mueller for getting to the bottom of this mess that our president appears to ignore.

We commandeered our son’s ancient radio, stuck some batteries in the back and listened to “All Things Considered” and an endless stream of NPR stories about Mueller’s fearless exploits.

NPR was like another flashlight in our dark home.

For 60 hours, I lived in the murkiness of the Upside Down. I missed taking a warm shower and brewing a cup of that black gold that jump-started my mornings.

When the sun rose, I got the camera and took pictures of downed trees and power lines. Auburn was a mess and its inhabitants were in a bad mood.

So we waited impatiently as hoards of linemen descended on the Pine Tree State to help put lights back on in New England.

My tour of our wind-swept state was startling. The telephone pole near the end of my street had snapped in two and wires still were connected to the top half of the pole that was resting in the middle of the street.

Mother Nature had done a number on us.

But there was hope — if you believe in hope. Linemen were working on the broken pole for two days. By Wednesday, they were mounting the relays on the top half, and wouldn’t you know it, the power returned in the morning and all was well in my neighborhood by evening.

The TV and Internet came back to life in our home and there was warm water running in the sink to wash the damn dishes.

We were fortunate. There are still over 5,000 people wandering in the dark in Maine. I am sure the level frustration for those Mainers is in the red. 

For us, life was good again and we were grateful to those men who work with electricity and brave danger to put the state of Maine back on line.

And shout-out to NPR for keeping two people informed after two dark days. And with power on, the portal to Upside Down has been closed — for the moment.

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Goodfellows52: Goodfellows52: Having a garden party without all t...: Goodfellows52: Having a garden party without all the political ba... : "I grow plants for many reasons: to please my eye or to please m...

Three senators who have the right stuff

“Always do right. This will gratify some people and astonish the rest,” — Mark Twain

AUBURN — Last night, the nation witnessed three congressmen do what is right and ignored being intimidated by their party and a bellicose president.

Talk about going against the grain.

Republican Sens. John McCain, Lisa Murkowski and Susan Collins voted the against the GOP’s “skinny repeal” of Obamacare. McCain casted the deciding vote with little fanfare.

Anyway, I am no republican and I have little regard for senate republicans, but I witnessed three people stand up for the country’s citizens, knowing full well it could cost them politically.

Now that is something.

Kudos to them and a round of applause for three leaders who didn’t sell out their constituency.

Despite all the back-biting and mud-slinging going at the White House, three courageous congressman proved America can still think on its feet.

Here is the following thank-you letter I sent to their offices today:

July 28, 2017

Dear Sens. John McCain, Lisa Murkowski and Susan Collins,

It is almost unheard of to witness a member of congress going against their political party to do the right thing during a crucial vote concerning millions of lives. Going against the grain will never earn you votes, but I suspect the three of you knew that going into last night’s vote.

But in the middle of the night, all three of you made a tough choice after being strong-armed by your own party and a vengeful president.

Thank you all for not throwing 22 million Americans under the bus. I appreciate your sacrifice and your votes made a critical difference in millions of American lives. All three of you can walk away with pride. You all did something heroic and I wanted to express my appreciation.

The sad part is Obamacare isn’t evil, but if the GOP took the necessary steps to improve it, then the entire party would have looked like heroes.

Look, I am a liberal democrat and a native from the great state of Massachusetts — that is Kennedy country. Of course, I don’t agree with much anything when it comes to the GOP — especially with this current crop of spiteful senators.

I also believe EVERY American deserves health care, not just members of congress or the flippant president, who believes insulting people, especially women, gets results.

But yet, Sen. McCain you fought another good fight. But you have been doing that all along for your nation, whether it was in the air over Vietnam or going head-to-head with your own party. Sen. Collins, I now live in Maine, and I have never voted for you, but last night, you earned my respect for holding the high ground, and that also goes for Sen. Murkowski, who was also leaned on by the White House.

Sen. McCain I wish success in your battle with cancer. Our thoughts are with you.

Kudos to all of you and you have the thanks from a liberal democrat. I know it is hard to believe, but I am sure there of many of us who feel the same.

Thank you again,

Sincerely,

Anthony Blasi

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Goodfellows52: Having a garden party without all the political ba...: "I grow plants for many reasons: to please my eye or to please my soul, to challenge the elements or to challenge my patience, for ...

Having a garden party without all the political balderdash in D.C.

"I grow plants for many reasons: to please my eye or to please my soul, to challenge the elements or to challenge my patience, for novelty or for nostalgia, but mostly for the joy in seeing them grow."

                                  — David Hobson

AUBURN — My garden is growing as fast as the furor over the president’s fusillade of pathetic and juvenile tweets.

If you are looking for fireworks on this Fourth of July, look no farther than our nation’s capital.

Nonsense in the White House thrives and my plants are also flourishing thanks to tender loving care, which is absent in Washington D.C.

There is little evidence of compassion from our leaders, but here on the open range in Maine, we treat our garden like we treat other human beings — with love and devotion.

But you can’t fix stupidity in the nation’s capital, where incessant backbiting and barbs hang over our nation, sparking hate and rage across the country.

Enough about politicians who can’t play well with others and refuse to work for the greater good. There is a garden to tend to in spite of our capital that is hopelessly awash in anger and ineptness. 

Garden of delight

Barring a tornado, tsunami or an errant tweet, my flower and vegetable gardens are looking sturdy and I have seen a bloom or two, giving me confidence in this season’s endeavor.

My potato plants appear to be taking performance-enhancing drugs without my knowledge. This is the first time I have planted to potatoes because my wife wanted fresh taters. I quickly agreed to preserve peace and prosperity in the Blasi household. Of course, I don’t like sleeping on the couch, either.

The zucchini and summer squash plants are on a mission, but I confess that I had to use a touch of pesticide to combat aphids and cucumber bugs to keep those vegetables healthy. The peppers, always late bloomers, are getting there and that could be said for my eggplants. Lettuce and spinach grown from seed are looking real good, especially with some Newman’s Own salad dressing smeared all over those leafy greens.

My yard also supplies me with fresh apples, blueberries and pears.

While we wait for our leaders to do their jobs, I will be out in the garden tending to my flock of fantastic plants, but the bilious politicians, who can’t reach a compromise or stop berating each over the Internet, won’t be on the receiving end of fresh vegetables from me.

Sweet birds of youth

Mourning doves have no fear. 

They are handsome pigeons that hum their laments mornings and evenings. When they are startled, they fly away with a distinct whistling sound.

They waddle underneath my bird feeder picking up scraps. They often travel in pairs and are not intimidated by human beings, especially this 6-foot-3, 300-pound man who marvels at creatures great and small.

They just give me a glance and keep on pecking at the ground.

I needed some air and stepped out in the front yard to seat myself at an outdoor table on a muggy July night. I looked down for a moment and there were two young mourning doves not startled in the least. They came within two feet of me and just sat there looking at me. I closed my eyes, nodded off in my lawn chair and they just rested with me.

Amazing.

We have a variety of birds that visit the front yard. A row of thick hedges gives them cover. 

I sat there for 40 minutes as the pair of birds and I stared at each other.

Some people say mourning doves represent death. I say that is a bunch of crap from superstitious people who should know better.

They are cute, cuddly, and I enjoy their sweet, sad song. They are always welcomed in my yard.

Anyway, happy birthday, America. As an optimist, I know we will weather poor leadership and reaffirm our resilience on this holiday.