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.

Goodfellows52: Cry uncle and let slip the fiscal fools

Goodfellows52: Cry uncle and let slip the fiscal fools: AUBURN, Maine — I am in the process of negotiating a truce with Mother Nature. I refuse, however, to offer the O...

Cry uncle and let slip the fiscal fools

AUBURN, Maine — I am in the process of negotiating a truce with Mother Nature. I refuse, however, to offer the Old Lady unconditional surrender.

No matter what the Old Girl has thrown at me this winter, I refuse to capitulate to this guiding force of creation. After all, the Old Gal has been more of a friend than a foe to this master gardener. Her feisty ways can make or break a garden. She was real good to me last season, allowing me to harvest nearly 300 pounds of vegetables.

But the Old Girl sure has it in for New England this winter. She backhanded us with another weekend storm that produced another foot of white gold for the skiers. 

I have really gotten to know my snow shovels and roof rake this winter. We have become close thanks to Mother Nature's winter whims. Couldn't do it without these handy tools and the generosity of several of my neighbors, who are like the Green Berets when the Old Gal lays down a barrage of heavy snow. They come heavily armed with snow blowers that move mountains of snow. In just minutes, five-foot walls of white stuff is cleared away, liberating me from shovel.

I will always be grateful to these good souls.

If it wasn't for their kindness, I would be entombed in my own backyard until spring.

The week before Mother Nature's latest production was a blizzard that dropped nearly 25 inches of snow and featured 50-mile-per-hour winds.

I don't want to jinx all of New England, but weather prognosticators are saying we should miss the next weekend snowstorm. 

I want that in writing!

But here is the trade off: Mother Nature will be serving up another snowstorm on Wednesday that might last for three days. They are talking about another foot of damn snow.

The Old Gal's fury apparently won't let up this winter.

But I am hoping the Old Lady honors our truce and goes easy on us this spring even though she has a mind of her own.

Fiscal fools

Sequester — to isolate or hide away — or a general cut in government spending.

Let's use the first definition and sequester Congress. Put them all in a convention center and keep them there until they can act like responsible adults who can make responsible decisions — and that goes for both parties.

Sure, the budget is a mess thanks to protracted wars in the Middle East and irresponsible leaders. But cutting off your nose to spite your face means a sequester might be the coup de grace to United State's fragile economy.

According to the New York Times, the sequester law requires President Obama to impose $85 billion in spending cuts to the military and domestic programs. That means federal employees would take a hit along with numerous education programs.

Just what the economy needs — more people out of work, and those job losses will cause a trickle-down effect that will be felt by all of us.

Perhaps Wednesday's next New England storm is just another omen for Friday's main event — sequester.

Goodfellows52: Super blowhards

Goodfellows52: Super blowhards: AUBURN, Maine — And so it begins — the endless, mindless chatter about Super Bowl XLVII. For those of you who live and die with the S...

Trench warfare

"You don't raise heroes, you raise sons.  And if you treat them like sons, they'll turn out to be heroes, even if it's just in your own eyes."  

~Walter M. Schirra, Sr.

AUBURN, Maine — I am fortunate to have a strapping 16-year-old son who has a strong back and an admirable work ethic.

He didn't flinch when he picked up a shovel and took on Blizzard Nemo, which roared through the Northeast on Saturday. For a small fish from Disney, Nemo sure had a lot of bite, dropping over two feet of snow on most of New England. This bastard of Northeaster lived up to all the hype and buried Auburn over a period of 36 hours. Nemo rivaled the Blizzard of 1978 when Boston was shut down for weeks. 

They say snow is a poor man's fertilizer. Then I guess I am set for the upcoming growing season.

But there was no hemming and hawing from a young man who didn't mind helping his dad clear away two feet of snow from two driveways. He didn't demand money or an IPod for his services.

He did it for dear-old dad, and I was proud of him for the way he braved the elements in a storm with whiteout conditions.

Anthony is a responsible young man who went the distance for his father the day before the storm would intensify. He helped bring in a half a cord of wood so we could keep the home fires burning in the event of a power outage.

He jumped right into the fray with three neighbors who should be canonized for their help with their Tiger-tank snowblower. Dan Levesque's two sons, Ryan and Mark, are two rugged brothers who treat mountains of snow as a mere annoyance. Dan, the patriarch of this good family, is an amateur geologist who appreciates the Earth's natural artworks — rocks. His collection is something to be admired. He is a smart guy with a kind heart. God don't make 'em any better and that's a fact.

Dan and family can look forward to fresh vegetables this summer from the guy next door, and that would be me — the master gardener of Valley Street.

For two hours on a wind-whipped Saturday afternoon,  Anthony and I plowed through snowdrifts to get to the car and cleared away a five-foot drift blocking the back door to our deck.

What really unnerved father and son was a five-foot high, six-foot wide wall of snow blocking both driveways. It would take hours with two shovels, but Dan headed toward my house with his monster blower and made mince meat out of the two Great White Walls of China.

And when all of New England embraced the warm sun on Sunday, Anthony and I were back at it, borrowing through 25 inches of snow to make paths around the house. We cleared the rest of the deck and driveway as temperatures soared into the upper 30s, which is considered to be a heatwave at this time of year.

It was spectacular storm, but what was more impressive is my 16-year-old who gave his old man a helping hand without giving it a second thought.

Goodfellows52: Super blowhards

Goodfellows52: Super blowhards: AUBURN, Maine — And so it begins — the endless, mindless chatter about Super Bowl XLVII. For those who live and die with the San Fran...

Super blowhards

AUBURN, Maine — And so it begins — the endless, mindless chatter about Super Bowl XLVII.

For those of you who live and die with the San Francisco 49ers or the Baltimore Ravens, you will hang on every word for the next eight hours leading up to the game in The Big Easy — New Orleans — a city that has just about put Hurricane Katrina behind itself.

By the time 6:30 p.m. rolls around, most fans will be half in the bag and bloated from comfort food loaded with salt and short on nutrition. At that point, fans in your home will become annoying, tempting any host throwing a party to call the cops on spectators with slurred speech and loss of coordination.

The analysts will analyze every useless detail about the outcome of a football game that just might determine world peace or bring prosperity to a nation still caught in the throes of an economic debacle.

Well, not really.

CBS began its coverage of the Super Bowl at 11 a.m., when most people were having their second cup of coffee. This family headed for the gym to ignore the nonstop, verbal nonsense that can cause concussions that lead to serious brain damage from announcers who don't when to be quiet.

We will hear from the experts who will tell us: "The team that scores the most touchdowns will win the game. They have winning on their minds. The Ravens have only one shot to win the title."

No kidding! Such insight!

At home this afternoon, we turned to PBS World for the documentary, "For Love of Liberty: The Story of America's Black Patriots" who fought with honor for a nation that spurned them for decades.

You can't tell me that Jim Nantz's run-on thoughts about the Super Bowl are more profound than a documentary about black Americans who served their nation with pride. Look, these guys on CBS are good at what they do, but seven hours of blah, blah, blah about a sporting event sends me to the medicine cabinet for a dose acid reliever or Advil.

Years ago, I turned the sound down of the TV to listen to the raspy voice of Johnny Most, the ultimate homer, announce Celtics games because the guys on the tube put me to sleep. He made no apology for taking Boston's side when the refs called a foul against the Green Machine.

For two unbearable weeks, we have lived with 24-7 coverage of an event that, in truth, will not affect our lives in any way.

Some of the stories about the athletes have been touching and absurd.

I enjoy the stories about players who enjoy the serenity of knitting, crocheting or attending an opera. There are articles about athletes' favorite pets, meals, political affiliations, girlfriends, wives, daughters, sons, hair stylists, mechanics and their favorite movie. This compilation of needless information is as important as when I broke my favorite "Cheers" glass this morning.

I wept for hours over a glass that meant so much to this kid from the Greater Boston area.

And with the Patriots out of the picture, Super Bowl XLVII doesn't weigh heavily on my mind. I will take a politician's way out and root for both teams so I won't offend millions of ravenous 49ers and Ravens fans.

Will I watch the game tonight? I will, but I will do it on an intermitten basis.

But you can bet I am skipping all seven hours of this pre-game epic and a halftime show that will probably make my ears bleed from poor music. 

Goodfellows52: Cold heart

Goodfellows52: Cold heart: AUBURN, Maine - For those of you who have watched from afar, the good people of New England have been freezing their buns off for...

Cold heart

AUBURN, Maine - For those of you who have watched from afar, the good people of New England have been freezing their buns off for the past six days.

If you live in a warm-weather state or are enjoying summer down under in Australia, then you can smile all you want because, baby, it's damn cold up here.

Winter is slapping New Englanders around for the moment. We are wearing 40 layers of clothing and saying prayers when we start our cars.

Car-battery killing winds have swept across Maine and turned this climate into a frozen tundra. The f-word can be heard from miles away when Mainers turn over their stubborn cars in below-zero morning cold. 

For six mind-numbing days, the cold has taken our breaths away and made oil companies rich. And even on the seventh day, the Arctic cold did not rest, leaving Mainers longing for humidity and 80-degree temperatures.

The steam rising from Casco Bay harbor in Portland was a site to behold. Slip, sliding away on my walkway will put a snicker on anyone's face.

A cold snap is not a rare occurrence in the six-state region. Winters are more famous than Gov. Paul LePage's outbursts in the Pine Tree State. Laborers make a living off the white stuff and bone-chilling temperatures.

A good deal of Maine's economy thrives on winter. The ski industry lives and dies with snowfall amounts. Snowmobiliers need a strong snow pack to race their loud half tracks on miles of trails through the backwoods of Maine.

Without snow and this tricky climate, well, Maine wouldn't be Maine.

But the Arctic air mass has modified, and on Saturday, it reached 20 degrees, making me wonder if I could slip in an afternoon swim at Popham Beach. By Tuesday, New England is looking at temps in the 30s - a heatwave for all of us wearing long underwear.

My son is a ski patrol candidate at Lost Valley. For seven hours, Anthony, an all-weather kid who loves the Great Outdoors, patrolled the slopes, making sure Lost Valley was safe for democracy in frigid temperatures.

As I proudly watched Anthony meander down the course to make sure all skiers were safely down off the mountain before it closed, it's didn't seem so cold outside anymore.

Goodfellows52: A letter to the president

Goodfellows52: A letter to the president: Dear President Obama, I couldn't care less about the pomp, celebrities or VIPs dressed in expensive attire that are the byprodu...