12 28 11 Happy New Year!12 28 11 Happy New Year!

So, here we are again, smack dab in the middle, stuck between Christmas, and New Years. How fast the time flies by. How quick the years seem to roll through. How old do we feel now? How much would you like to hit me right now? Smile.

As the years go by, along with them goes our youth. My youth. Youth, in particular. I have an old saying when  someone asks me how I am doing. I say, “I am getting older by the hour, and uglier by the minute. Sad, but true. The inevitable is due.

My mom told me a month or so ago, while we were chatting on Skype, that I looked like Sean Connery. I then proceeded to ask her if she had just had her medications altered by her physician. She told me that she hadn’t, and that I indeed did look like Sean Connery. I couldn’t imagine why, seeing as I was using an HD web cam and all.

I used to kid with my wife back in the nineties that I thought I looked like Tom Selleck, complete with the perm job. By the way, those perm jobs that my wife used to give me, they hurt like hell, but I didn’t mind. A reflection of Tom was waiting for me around the corner, in the next mirror. I was just that damn fine. Lol

Give me a break. I might have thought I looked like Tom Selleck one minute, and Fred Flintstone the next.

I still can’t believe it is almost 2012. I remember back in 1980 when I was running the shuttle truck from Waterville, to the retread shop in Biddeford twice a week. I would have to sign all the invoices of the product I was picking up. There were like a hundred invoices each trip, or so it seemed. I can remember signing my name and the date on every invoice. The first time I wrote 1980, it just seemed so weird, no seventy something and all. Hard to believe that was thirty one years ago, or I should say, thirty two. Time sure does fly by.

Remember the millennium? Remember how weird it felt to be turning the odometer over? I still say that the millennium didn’t start until 2001, but 2000 sounded so much better for the hype that went along with it, and what the hell did I know anyways.

Now, its twelve years later, and it doesn’t seem possible. It just doesn’t seem real some times.

When I was a kid, I never thought I would grow up. It just seemed light years away. Unapproachable in my life time. I can remember riding the grade school bus in Little Falls, especially one winter. The winter of ‘66-‘67. There was a snow drift on the roof of Penny Burrows house that I noticed every morning. I kept telling myself that I would always remember this snow drift, in this year, on this bus, for the rest of my life, and so far, I have. At that point and time in my life, 2012 didn’t even enter the picture. It just didn’t exist, and if it didn’t exist, then how would I ever get there?

Every morning, through the winter, I noticed the drift on their roof. It got bigger, then smaller, then big again, then small once more, until into mid April, it finally disappeared. I never noticed the snow drift on their roof again, and I lived and rode that bus for the next several years. For some reason, that particular winter stuck in my mind. It represented my childhood, and it still seems as if it was yesterday or maybe the day before.

As Bob Segar sang once upon a time, I am a Rambling Man. I ramble sometimes, especially when it comes to snow drifts on the Burrows house in 1967.

Forty five years have gone by. Forty five winters. Forty five summers. Forty five Christmases, a couple of birthdays, and New Years. I can hardly believe it. I can’t imagine if I make it for another forty five years. That would be the year, umm, the year 2057. Say it with me, Twenty Fifty Seven. Man that sounds weird, and old. I wonder what it would be like then? I wonder if I would still look like Sean Selleck, or tom Connery? If I do, I hope I can still type.

Happy New Year Everyone!

I hope 2012 treats you all well.

12 09 11 A Christmas Eve

A Christmas Eve

I remember that special tingling feeling that I always seemed to get around Christmas time as a child. It was pure magic, and I never wanted it to end.

The anticipation leading up to that marvelous day seemed to last forever, and the long winding down of the days until Santa would come was sometimes too much to bear.

We always got the Sears Wishbook in the mail, and I think I rifled through it a thousand times, dreaming of the countless gifts that were at my fingertips. Hoping that somehow, some of them would find their way into Santa’s sleigh, and into my home.

I always knew exactly what I wanted, and closed my eyes tightly as I whispered a secret prayer to the great white bearded man in the red suit. I was sure that he could hear me, and pictured him sitting in his comfy chair at the North Pole, looking through the same Wishbook that was on my lap. He knew what I wanted. He knew that I had been a good boy, except maybe for a couple small incidents, which I was sure he would overlook, because I was sincere and genuine when I told him how sorry I was for those unfortunate mishaps.

I remember sitting at the kitchen table and looking through the book with my little brother Scotty. We sat, mesmorized with the thousands of toys. Thousands and thousands of the most wonderful things ever imagined. Thousands of the most amazing feats of elfish workmanship that had ever made their way into such a glorious book.

Trains and planes and guitars and bat man pajamas and Hot Wheels and bikes and sleds and drums and GI Joes and cowboys and Indians and baseball bats and baseball gloves and toboggans and ice skates and hockey pucks and super balls and silly putty and bed tents and sleeping bags and superman capes and oh so much more. Even the Easy Bake Ovens looked delectably delightful to me.

All of the wonder and magic of Christmas hit me head on like a Buddy L freight train, screaming round the bend and heading straight for my bunk beds. It was all there, and it was all inside my head as I imagined this, and dreamed about that.

And then there was Christmas Eve. Ahhh the feeling, unlike anything I had ever felt. Christmas Eve, and Santa was already on his way. Looking out at the night sky, I would search for his blinking lights on the sleigh. I can remember the newsman on TV, telling all of us expecting children that his sleigh had infact been spotted over the Great Lakes, or up around Hudson Bay. Surely these news guys new what they were talking about. Surely they were keeping an  eye on the progress of such an important event. The most important event of the year by far. No questions. This was it. He was on his way. All the waiting, all the dreams, all the wonder and magic andinnocent imagination had finally come to this one moment. Christmas Eve.

I could see the excitement in my brothers and sisters faces. I could smell Christmas in the air, as plain as the chocolate chip cookies that mom had made to set out for Santa.

Christmas Eve had come, and I was smack dab in the middle of it. I had a front row seat to the best event of the year.

The excitement that surrounded our home was incredible. The icicles, gleaming and twinkling on our wonderful Christmas Tree meant even more. The electric candle lights in the picture window in the living room would surely send a sign to Santa that we were all waiting for him.

How could he know all of these things though? How could he work such magic on such a cold and wintery night? How could he do all of the wondrous things? How could such an amazing thing become so true?

I had all kinds of questions, but only He had all the answers. Only he knew what to bring. Only He knew when I fell asleep. Only He knew how much I loved him and Christmas.

“Time for bed everyone!” Those words from mom rang through me like a thousand church bells. Finally, it was the last leg of the Christmas miracle. Finally, all of my waiting and hoping and dreaming and imaginations had finally paid off. I was rounding third, and Santa was heading for home.

Try as I might, I was never able to stay awake for very long, although I gave it a gallant effort. Sleep would always eventually take over as I lay in bed with the most amazing visions of Christmas dancing about in my head.

Try as I may, my eyes would eventually close, though for just a second. Snapping back out of thought, I was sure that I heard something, or saw something as I looked out my window at the starry night. He would come, and if I just close my eyes for a second, maybe I could have tricked Him into thinking that I was asleep, then I could have surprised him and finally gotten to see him. that’s it, I would have just close my eyes for a second or two. Just a quick minute. I should have been able to see him in that wonderful magical sleigh with those reindeer and all of those presents. I was a year older, and I should have been able to finally get to see him. That’s it, I would just close my eyes for a ….

11 22 11 Old Movies11 22 11 Old Movies

11 22 11  Old Movies

My wife told me yesterday afternoon that there was something about me that was different. She couldn’t quite place it, but it was different just the same.

I asked her what it was, and she said that she couldn’t quite put a finger on it. I asked her if it was this, or if it was that, and she couldn’t say.

I sat and thought about it for a long time, pondering on the changes in me that perhaps I wasn’t aware of. I thought, and thought, and thought. There are so many possibilities why she might perceive me as different. There are so many reasons why I may act differently, or seem different, or talk different, or walk different.

I could probably sit here and wonder what she sees, or notices that is different about me. God knows I have felt different my whole life. Maybe it’s just starting to catch up to me?

I have always been a reactionary person. I react to my surroundings, like a chameleon, ever changing to the surroundings. I have always done that, and if I may say so, I have gotten pretty good at it over the years. Practice makes perfect, as the old saying goes.

I try to think and remember how I was a couple years ago. I try to remember how I reacted to certain things, and how I communicated with people, with my family, and my wife. It doesn’t seem like very long ago most of the times, although there are the times when it seems worlds away.

I remarked to someone last night that I can not believe how fast the days are chugging by. One on top of the other, they are piling up very quickly, and I can’t stop them.

She remarked that this is very true with getting older. I couldn’t disagree in the least, and had heard this a thousand times. The only thing that seemed different was that it had become very apparent to me, that it was happening to me. I am one of those people that are getting older and I am noticing that the time is flying by.

I woke up this morning, wondering how different I had become these past couple years. I remembered the past, and flipped through the present. As I often do, I laid in bed and remembered and smiled and laughed and came close to tears as the movies of my past jumped from reel to reel. One by one, they all play out, and I am left with a head full of my life.

I notice that the memories that come flooding at me are more vivid now than ever before. They tell the stories that have been neatly stored away, behind all the other stuff, way up on the top shelf, in that dusty old Tom McCann shoe box.

I had always been very good at imagining what the future might hold for me. I used to play out made up scenarios in my head, over and over again. I enjoyed making up these fictitious events in my mind. I was good at it, and spent a lot of time doing it. I don’t know why, and I really don’t have the time to make up scenarios that try explaining these made up scenarios.

I can remember sometimes as I would roll through the memories of my past, I would try and recall certain things that I had forgot about. I would usually never be able to pull out some relic that I had forgotten about. It seemed that my memories, and my past, was fixed. I had these memories, and I had those memories, and nothing more, That was it. I just couldn’t recall anything new, or old.

That has changed these past couple years. I have noticed that when I sit and ponder, I am usually pulled back into my past. I am able to fetch and bring to life many events and feelings and emotions from my past that, quite honestly, I had completely forgotten about. The emotions that come with these old movies are amazing, and I am overwhelmed with them at times. They are, for the most part, very powerful and good, leaving me with a sense of my life that I never ever want to forget again.

I wonder, as of late, if the fact that I have no new visual input, so to speak, is the reason that these old forgotten tid bits of my past are finally starting to come to the surface. I don’t know if that’s true, and I am not complaining in the least. I have seen so much in my life, and I have forgotten a huge chunk of it. Being able to recall some of the stored and forgotten relics are so incredibly amazing and wonderful, that all I can say is, wow, I remember that!

I have always thought of myself as an old softie, but now it appears that I am evolving into an old dusty, tattered, memory foam softie. Six foot four, and two hundred and s;lkaoi pounds of Maine teddy bear pliable gooey emotion.

I still am not sure what is different about me. I am not really sure if I will figure out what my wife was talking about. I know that she really doesn’t know what it is that’s changed in me.

I do know that whatever it is, I hope it doesn’t drive her crazy, because I need her in my life more now than ever. She has played such a big role in the movies of my past, and I can’t see myself stepping into any future role without her as the leading lady.

I did ask her if the thing that seems to be different, or missing about me was the fact that I can’t see her when she is talking to me. I can look at her, but I am not seeing her in the present. When she is talking to me, I picture her from my memories. She is just as beautiful, and those eyes. I still see and feel those eyes staring into my soul.

I will have these movies to play, and images to flip through, of her, until the day that I die. I am blessed to have such a wonderful library of my life’s moments at my fingertips. I can watch the past whenever I want, and the pause button works perfectly. How can I lose, considering that I can mix new releases with yesterday’s classics.

Topping it all off, there is no monthly fee. See me smiling?

11 11 11 Veterans Day

11 11 11  Veterans Day

Well here it is again, Veterans Day. I never really paid much attention to this holiday when I was younger. I guess I had my head stuck up there where the sun hardly ever gets to. I should be ashamed of myself, but I just never paid it no mind.

I have talked about taking things for granted, and  selfishly living my life as though I deserved all of the freedoms that I had. I lived each day with no intensions of thanking anyone for being able to walk freely about, thinking exactly what I wanted, and saying whatever came across my mind at any given drop of a hat.

Selfishly, I have gone through my younger years, enjoying all of the luxuries that this country represents, and furnishes. These trinkets of tranquility that this country represents have been furnished by the countless souls of old who unselfishly sacrificed everything thay had, in order to hand down the same streets of freedom they themselves had been able to walk down.

I listened to the TV this morning, as the color guard ran through the rituals of honor at the designated areas for the ceremonies for the fallen. I couldn’t help but get all choked up, as I listened to the precision of the footsteps, and the calling out of the orders, as the ceremony came to pass. I have been flooded with these same feelings over these past few years, whenever I am able to witness selfless sacrifice for the love of freedom and liberty. Two things that before the last several years, I had no real concept of what they really, truly meant.

As I imagine the faces of the men and women who were taking part in the ceremonies this morning, I was flooded with faces and expressions and love and faith and family. I could see the little daughters hugging their fathers as they left for duty. I could see those same young daughters hugging their moms, as they returned home from twelve months of duty. I could see the faces of the young children , and the parents, and grandparents, and husbands and wives as their fathers and mothers and sisters and brothers and nephews and nieces finally made it home from duty. I could hear the cries of happiness, and see their tears of joy as once again, the family became whole.

No one in my immediate family ever served in the military. I have many relatives that have, and are still. Although I have never known what it is really like to have someone in my immediate family go to, or come home from service, or action, I still get emotional when I see or hear others who go through this.

My pride swells, and I feel a sense of country that I get nowhere else.

I do have some very strong political views and feelings about all of this. I will spare this post from any of that. This post I will save for thanks, and gratefulness, and hopeful wishes for the families, that they will become whole again one day. I pray that the loved ones who serve will be protected by the hand of God, and provided with a safe road back into the arms of their loving families.

Such a selfless sacrifice can never be wasted, no matter how hard the struggle, no matter how high the obstacle. The sacrifice must forever be remembered, as we live and breathe every single day under the sun. We must always give thanks, and remember what we are up against if our ability to live free is lost or taken from us.

The founding fathers saw something special in this land of ours. They saw something in the eyes of every person who walked the road towards freedom. They knew the fragile nature of the liberties, and the freedoms. They craved it for themselves, as they strived to make it happen for all.

This country, and it’s beliefs, are the best thing to happen to this world of ours since, well, since, forever!

In Loving Honor of the Fallen:

Flanders Field

In Flander’s Field, the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row

That mark our place, and in the sky

The lark, still bravely singing, flies

Scarce heard, amidst the battle of the guns below

We are the dead. Few days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow

Loved, and were loved

And now we lie in Flanders Field

To all the men and women who have served, are serving, and will serve, Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart.

May God Bless You All And Keep You Safe

10 30 11 Excuse Me?

Excuse me? Did I hear someone say “Chocolate?” I just know I did. Where are they? Let me at ‘em!

Why is it that I crave it so? Why is it that I lust for the creamy rich sweet taste that runs down the back of my throat? Why is it that when I bite down and feel the sweet smoothness filling my cavities I smile? Pushing and smooshing the chocolate against the roof of my mouth with my tongue, it feels almost illegal talking about it, like I should be censored or something.  Hershey’s Adult Novelty Bar. Smile.

Can someone please tell me what’s wrong with me? Can someone please tell me where to go to get a prescription or something to rid me of this affliction? Surely there must be a remedy for my constant cravings for the stupid stuff? There just has to be.

Help.

M&M’s, Reeces Peanut Butter Cups, Snickers, 5^th Avenue, Zero, Sixlets, Rolo’s, Whoppers, Clark Bar, Hershey’s Milk Chocolate Bars Nestle’s Crunch, Frozen Charleston Chews. Someone, Please Make Them Stop!

No matter how big a bag of chocolate we buy, as soon as it gets home, and opened, it’s half gone! How does that happen? Did someone let the little nasty chocolate goblins into the house? Is our house haunted, or is it just me, in a chocolate black out? I mean, we just opened it up, and it is almost gone all ready!

I never even thought, as I started this rant, that tomorrow is Halloween for crying out loud!  How fitting and proper. Here, here’s a couple thousand extra fat cells around your ponch sir, and thank you.

Hershey’s miniatures. Give me a break if you please! More like Hershey’s bag full of miniature torment! The guy that invented this bag full of relentless delight should be in jail, or given the Nobel Peace Prize.

More like the Nobel Piece of Chocolate hypnosis prize.

Ok, I get it. I look like a fish, right? I see the bait. Looks yummy to me. I think I will take just a little nibble and, WHAMMO! Oh no, I think I am hooked, and they are reeling me in. Oh goodie, I am being pulled into a 24/7 choco sushi bar with a never ending supply of hot fudge on top of a chocolate ice cream blizzard with Reeces Peanut Butter Cups! What fun! Oh joyous occasion being had by yours truly! How convenient! Go ahead boys, keep reeling me in! There ya go.

Why is it that all of life’s twists and turns seem so much simpler with a piece of chocolate headed towards my mouth? Why is it that all of life’s troubles seem smaller with a hand full of milk chocolate chips headed down my gullet? Why is hot fudge so good? Why did you get your chocolate in my peanut butter? Why is it that M&M’s never do melt in my hands? Is it because I just pour them right from the bag into my mouth, skipping the stupid hand part of the process? Could that be why? I mean, it is just so painfully silly to waste valuable time looking at them while they are in your hand. I’m just saying. Another one of life’s mysteries put to rest. &Why do dentists smile every time they see a Three Musketeers commercial on TV? How fast can an average man unwrap a Hershey’s Kiss, and how many can he eat in a minute? Seems like a lot of wasted tin foil if you ask me. I’m just saying.

 How come the milky smooth content has a way of fooling you into another piece?

I never used to be this pathetic. I never used to be magnetically pulled towards the candy aisle. I never used to holler out with glee when I saw a bag of candy that had the label, “33 Percent More Absolutely Free”. I never used to give a rat’s behind about chocolate. Well, that’s not all together true.

OK, OK, I admit it! It is a life long addiction! There, I feel better, or I feel worse, or I feel like another piece of chocolate! I am so confused!

I feel like Kevin Costner in Field of Dreams. If you make it, I will come, so get the hell out of my way! I am very glad that I don’t live near Hershey Pennsylvania. They would have to cut a hole through a wall in my house to get me out, because I would probably be as big as a house.

Hmmmm.

Pondering on home deliveries of chocolate.

Hmmmm.

Still pondering.

I won’t even begin to talk about chocolate pastries. Nope. Not going there. Little Debbie? I hate her! I know that she may love me, but she would be the first one that I would arrest. Taking advantage of a poor lost soul just looking for his next fix. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, smiling on the side of that delivery truck like an innocent little girl. Bad, bad Little Debbie! I do love your Swiss Rolls though, and your brownies, especially the Cosmo ones with the little bits of chocolates on the tops, all gooey and, huh? What? You little! See what I mean? They draw you near, and then, “Oh hello there little miss twenty two thousand calorie girl, smiling on the side of that stupid truck!

Criminal I Tell Ya!

I might not be able to see the delectable little gobs of fat any more, cleverly displayed on the shelves of the conveniently manipulative convenient stores, but they still scream out my name and taunt me on a regular basis. Once a fool.

Baseball, Hot Dogs, Apple Pie, and Milk Chocolate. It’s an American dream.

Yesterday I had the fortune to have lunch with my dear cousin from down state, and she gave me a gift. She gave me a Ziploc bag of chocolate.

I hate to tell you Cuz, but the contents of the bag never made it home. Not even close. I mean I love you and all, but what in the world were you thinking? Thanks though.

I guess one good thing is that I can’t recall ever dreaming about chocolate. Maybe there is still hope for me yet? Maybe I can be pulled back from the Chocolate Abyss of Pleasurable Death?

Watch, tonight I will dream of one of my wife’s chocolate mayonnaise cakes.

Speaking of that, she was supposed to make me one this weekend.

Oh Honey!?

10 17 11 Perfect Timing?

I sometimes feel it is wrong to say that I couldn’t have picked a better time to become blind, but it’s true. There is so much going on with the technology now a days, that I really am blessed to have lost my vision when I did.

One thing that I always will want to do, is to recognize the people who have been blind, or visually impaired for many years, or their whole lives. I can not imagine being in their shoes, and admire them most of all.

I suppose that each generation of blind persons are met with challenges that define who they are, and what they are able to become. The struggles that shaped the past will never be forgotten, and so much has been learned that will benefit visually impaired people far into the future.

I can only try to imagine how difficult it was for people years ago. They didn’t know any other way though. They did what they had to do in order to live their lives to the best of their ability, and to the best according to their surroundings. They were always finding ways to explore, discover, achieve, overcome, accomplish, and nothing ever stopped their determined souls from creating a better world for themselves, and for us today. I thank God that as the years passed, there were so many incredibly gifted, and hard working blind folk to set the course and blaze the trail that we all could follow.

?These times that we are in now are moving so incredibly fast, as far as technology. I have seen so many wonderful advancements in accessibility in just the past year alone. I have always been a tecky geek of sorts, and was always amazed with modern advances in the tech world. It truly was an amazing thing to see how fast the new stuff came flying at us. As the old saying goes, when you bought a new computer, and got it home and out of the  box, it was already out of date. I can remember the first Pentium computer that we bought. It had a gigabyte hard drive that the salesman said we would never fill up. He was right, for about six months, then I was constantly trying to find space on the stupid thing. It was a never ending battle that I eventually lost, and we had to go get another modern advancement in technology.

I can remember one day I walked into Radio Shack, that’s right, Radio Shack, and they had a pc on display with a sixteen gigabyte hard drive. I drooled all the way home, and couldn’t stop thinking how ancient I felt with my second computer, which was a four gigabyte system. These days, the operating system alone takes around ten gigabytes of space. Who would have known?

Computers have taken on a whole new life for me in this last year. I used to use them for entertainment. Games, movies, and games, and chat and more games. I was always finding fun things to do with my computer. It had a whole different definition for me back then.

These days, I rely on my pc to stay in touch, and to stay independent. I can not imagine my life without my pc and internet access. I do different things on my pc these days. Writing has become a passion of mine that I never would have figured would play such a big role in my life. If I could not write, I am sure that I would find other avenues to communicate, but it wouldn’t be any where near the same.

I love my pc, and I love to write. I also rely on it to take care of emailing, gathering news, and my music passions. I tunes and an IPod touch, well, there’s another thing that I would feel lost without, my iPod touch. So many wonderful apps, and so much accessibility. It truly is a wonder in and of itself. I have around three hundred music cd’s on my iPod, and I have started running through the songs alphabetically about two months ago. I am up to the letter “I”, and with the different apps, I can listen to all of my favorite talk radio stations, streaming music stations, Sponge Bob Maarbles, and so much more. Ya, you heard me right, smile.

I also have to tell you of the wonderful advancements that I have seen in our local city of Waterville. I have been having mobility lessons in the city since summer 2010, and I have learned, with the help of my instructor, to be able to travel through the city streets, independantly. The intersections have always proven to be one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. I hate intersections, and can feel my blood pressure rise at just the thought of having to maneuver through them with my cane. Absolutely hated it. There are just so many variables that can change the outcome of cane travel throughout the city. Driver inattention, probably the hardest thing to predict, has given me cause to pause on many a day.

Over the summer, the city of Waterville has been upgrading it’s pedestrian crossing systems with a new audible system, and I can tell you, I was one of the most surprised people in the area. Some of the systems, the light clusters and pedestrian systems were so antiquated and out of date, they really were not very user friendly. I can remember one day, at one particular intersection, the walk signal was still lit, while the traffic light turned green. We were told by the city, that there was probably a timing issue. Ya think?

These new systems are a marvel of modern technology that I can only describe as a gift from heaven. They have tactile arrow push buttons, an digital voice that tells you when, and where to cross. The buttons vibrate when the walk signal is lit. The volume level increases with added road noise. There is a beeping indicator to assist you in finding the control poles, and digital displays of how much time is left for the crossing period. I could go on and on, but I think you get my drift.

If this is the shape of things to come, then I am waiting in line with a smile.

I could go on and on and on, but as you can see, I am very excited at the possibilities of accessibility in the years to come. I know that being handicapped comes with it a sense of ability and purpose. I also know that ability lies inside each of us, and it is up to us to do the research, and make the effort to find out just how we can make our lives better. We are all we have, and all that we are is exactly what we need.

Perfect timing? As usual, I pause when I start to say that I couldn’t have picked a better time to become blind. It just never seems like the right thing to say.

I pause no more, I say what I believe, I believe what I feel,  and I feel I am truly blessed.

10 10 11 Hello there Indian Summer

Hello There Indian Summer

Woooo-Hooooo! I can hardly contain myself. I almost can’t handle my excitement. It is running on into the second week of October, and I have dug out my shorts and tank tops once again, and yes, I am barefoot.

Mwaaa-Haaa-Haaa!

. Take that Miss Autumn! I’ll show you a thing or two about a thing or two! You think you’re sooooooo smart with your frost, and turning of the leaves and chilly North West winds. I guess you’re not as clever as you thought you were after all. Serves you right, ending summer like that. Who do you think you are anyways. fall?

Every year, it’s the same old story, and I am getting tired of it. You sit there, along side Old Man Winter, laughing and smiling like everything’s going to be ok. I’ll give you “ok”, you old bag full of wind! I’ll show you where the leaves fall off the trees! You and that tired old frigid popsicle sitting beside you. Tell him that I’m coming for him next, the doddering old freeze pop!

Little missy Autumn, sitting there, all pretty. “Look at my pretty leaves, look at my pretty leaves everyone!!” She said with a sinister laugh.

Sure!  We’ll all look at your magnificent colors, all scattered through the land. Oh my, how lovely the pretty colors are. Pretty colors my foot! You put them all out there on display for all of us to swoon over and wonder in the amazement that little miss perfect autumn has so generously given us, and then, BAM! They are all gone, and everything looks all dead! Every Year! Dead looking trees! They just stand there, all empty and stupid looking! That’s all that’s left! What the heck is wrong with you !? You think that’s funny? You get your jollies watching us all stand there, amazed at all the pretty colors, and then, here you go , Old Man Winter, have at it!

Have at it? That’s all you can say? Have at it?

Oh you thought you were so cool the other day last week when you threw that quick sleet storm at us. Little Miss cool down. Look at all the cute, little frozen people, running and  grabbing  their winter hats and coats. Isn’t it funny to see how everyone scatters for the thermal blankets. Oh how lovely, look at all the flannel, the checkers are just so lovely.

I got your thermal flannel right over here, you winter wanna be! I’ll see your sleet storm, and raise you an Indian summer, you old wind bag!

So here I sit, in my shorts and tank top, smiling from ear to ear. Can you see me smiling little missy? Do you notice the seventies that the needle on the thermometer is pointing to? You need to borrow my glasses? Twenty, twenty vision my foot. That’s right, those numbers on the thermometer start with a seven, and there’s another number after it, I think it’s a six or another seven, you whithering wrinkled up old foliage floozie!

I will hang on to the balmy breezy boys of summer for as  long as I can. Until the cows come home, if that’s what it takes, and you can bet your bottom dollar that they are summer cows too! I am prepared! I am mentally ready for you, you dithering speck of a season! You poor excuse for a fall painting! And that old frozen fogey that’s sitting beside you, tell him that his days are numbered as well, wobbley old icicle!

My shovel is staying right where it is, and my ice grips for my boots too!

I have a good mind to just skip you both, altogether, and go straight through to Sister Spring. She never gives us grief like you two do. Why is that? Why can’t you two behave more  like her anyway? Noooooooooooo. You guys have to be little miss all the attention, and old man all of the focus.

I tell you what, you guys just take a vacation, ok? Go and book some time on one of those ocean liner cruise ships, and just take a break, please! Go grab a cabin boy to set you up with a couple of lounge chairs up on the poop deck and leave us alone, and thank you very much! No one will notice. No one will care, and if they do, just tell them to get hold of me. I will be right here, waiting for them. They can’t miss me. I am right here, in plain sight. I’ll be the one wearing the shorts, and tank top. If they get close enough, and still don’t notice me, I’ll throw one of my sandals at them.

10 03 11 Up And Atom

Again I roll over in the bed.

The light coming in through the curtains of the sliding door in the bedroom is getting brighter by the minute, and I can hear the blue jays and crows outside. It must be around 6 o’clock? I left my talking wristwatch out in the kitchen. I can’t wake my wife up to see what time it is. She is sleeping so soundly, and it just wouldn’t be fair.

I might as well get up. I will never get back to sleep now anyway.

Now, my shorts and shirt should be right about, cold nose, wet tongue, “Oh hi Coco. Good girl. Hang on, you’ll get your turn in a few minutes.” Now, where are my clothes? Oh, there they are, all covered in dog hair. How lovely, a home made mo-hair suit.

I make my way from the bedroom to the living room, closing the door behind me, and presto, a lick on my hand from Deena. “Hi sweetie pie. You sleep good? How you feeling this morning?”

Thirty seconds of petting my Deena girl, and out in the kitchen with her. Close the door, and back to the bedroom door to let Coco out into the living room. If I leave her in the bedroom, she will jump up on the bed and wake the Mrs. She likes to jump on the bed and nestle against my pillow to soak up my smell. She is such a good horse/dog. “Out in the living room with you sweetie.” I grab her food bowl, put her in the living room, and close the bedroom door. Walking through the living room I reach down and grab Deena’s food bowl, and leave the living room for the kitchen. I can not let the two dogs together because Deena hates Coco and would like very much to kill her, or a close facsimile thereof.

As I go out into the kitchen, closing the door behind me, I put the two dog food bowls onto the kitchen table. What the heck is? Oh, yum, dog hair in my mouth. No thanks.  Deena is tapping across the linoleum floor, waiting for me to take her out to the pen. I call her TT because of the tap tap noise when she walks across the floor. I need to hit the bathroom myself, but I need to find out, “Hello Moshee.” I say.

“Hello, command please.” The alarm clock on the shelf in the kitchen talks back to me.

“Time.” I say to her sultry digital voice.

“The time is, six twelve A M.” She says back to me.

I think to myself, “Another day has started.” As I enter the bathroom. I can hear the blue jays and the crows again, from outside the bathroom window. We call the blue jays; clothes line birds, because they make a sound similar to the pulleys on our clothes line. Really.

I exit the bathroom, and Deena taps her way over to the cellar door, waiting for me patiently. I open the cellar door, and we enter the cellar way. One more door, and we are out in the garage, And she bounds down the stairs onto the garage floor. The cats all start stirring, as they are happy to see Deena. She nuzzles a few of them on her way to the back door of the garage. Slowly I step down the stairs onto the garage floor. I look for the sunlight shining through the back window onto the freezer on my right as I go down the stairs. No sunshine coming in through just yet. The sun is coming up later every morning now. Fall is surely heading our way. I stop to pet a couple of the cats that are on the shelves behind the bird seed locker near the back door. Searching around on the floor, I find my shoes, and feel inside them with my hands. Good. There are no dead mice in my shoes. It is going to be a good day. I have to call Deena over to the door. She is rooting around, over behind the bureau on the other side of the garage. I think she smells a chipmunk or a mouse. She finally comes over to the door so I can put her leash on her.

I have to make a loud “PSSSSST” sound to scare the cats away from the back door, as Deena and I exit the garage. The sun still isn’t up yet. I can see the faint lines and shadowy silhouettes of the trees in the back yard in contrast against the pre-dawn eastern sky, as we make our way to the door of the dog pen. There is a rope tied from the garage to the pen door so that I can use it for a guide on the mornings when my sight is non existent. I do not need it this morning. I can make out the shiny steel of the door frame of the pen. Deena pulls to the right as we walk to the pen. She smells something again. Probably the stray cat that Lynne has seen a few times hovering around the house.

We make it to the pen, and I let her in. I can see her fluffy, curly, tan tail as she walks away from me and across the pen to the other side.

As I close the pen door, and make my way back to the garage, I hear the next door neighbor’s rooster crowing. I turn and notice that the sun is finally starting to poke its glaring head up over the line of trees to the east. The old rooster got it right again.

Back in the garage I go, and grabbing the juice pitcher on top of the locker, I open the door and fill the pitcher from the bag of black oil seed in the locker.

Back out I go, and hang a left to go over to the bird feeder by the corner of the dog pen. The morning doves scatter as I head for the hanging feeder. I have a hard time seeing the black cast iron feeder pole that the feeder is hanging from. I finally catch a glimpse and grab hold of the feeder, uncapping and filling it. It is half empty. Little guys were hungry yesterday. I check the suet cage. It is still full of suet, so I start to the other feeder on the kitchen window. I spread seed on the ground as I walk to the window, leaving enough seed to put some in the kitchen window feeder. The window feeder is empty as it can be, and I have just enough seed left in the pitcher to fill the tray. From the looks of it, the woodpecker was busy yesterday, as there is all kinds of seed scattered along the window sill. The little bugger kicks and makes a fuss when he is feeding, throwing seed all over the place. The chickadees and blue jays like the window feeder as well. The seed that I threw on the ground is usually gobbled up by the morning doves, cardinals, finches and the starlings. Also the chipmunks and squirrels devour lots of the ground seed too.

Back around the corner of the house, and I can hear the turkey’s way out back at the end of the corn field about a half mile away. I think back to one of our old dogs, Barkley, who had a craving for the bold, wholesome taste of turkey poop, back in his hay day. Can you picture it? I will pause here, so that you may be able to fully appreciate the intricacies of the situation. Got it? Have I allocated enough time so that you may build a wonderful panoramic image in your mind? Good then, because mine has been lodged firmly in my mind for a number of years now. .

I pause, smile, and into the garage I go, placing the juice pitcher back on top of the seed locker. I can see faint glimpses of shadows moving across the garage floor, similar to a herd of bison slowly making their way across the prairies of the Midwest. The cats are on the move, so I stop to pet whichever ones will come up to me.

Time to get the paper, so I go out the front door of the garage, and out onto the front patio. I can hear the crows across the street in the birch trees. They call to each other in unison, up and down the road. As far as you can hear, there is the call of a crow. These watchers of the day seem to direct the traffic on the ridge, with order and authority. I dare not question their judgment, as I can’t see far enough to trust my own.

I slowly make my way down the driveway, around the car, and down to the end, near the road. As I get closer to the end of the driveway, I can see the Wal-Mart blue newspaper box on the pole beside the mailbox. It is one of the colors that I still can see pretty well.

Yup, paper’s here, and it isn’t in a plastic bag. That usually means that it will not rain today, which usually makes me smile. I do love to feel the sun on my face, and when it makes me squint, it reminds me that I still can see just a little, which is usually just enough.

Back to the house I go, swinging the newspaper out in front of me to warn me where the car is located. I would rather not walk into the car today. Tomorrow, maybe, but not today.

As I work around the car, and back to the patio, I look up and I can make out the light pole on the south peak of the garage roof against the blue, early morning sky. It bids me a fair morning as I make it back to the patio and into the garage once again.

I set the paper on top of the upright freezer, and check to see if May the cat is on top of the freezer. She is, and I pet her for a minute. She purrs and does her usual chubby kitty growl when I tickle her spine with a good rub. Keekee the cat meows at me from the top of the boot box, and so I make my way over to the box and pet her. She usually falls down and sprawls out on her back while I pet her. I call her my flop cat.

Time for Deena to come back in, and for Coco to go out now, so I go to the back garage door, where pepper the cat is waiting, trying to sneak outside. I stop and pet him, picking him up and placing him on top of the seed locker. He weighs a ton, and is such a sneak, just like his father, my Billy boys.

I make a “PSSSST” sound again to scare the cats away from the back door, and exit quickly out into the back yard. The sun is up full now, smacking me head on in the face as I step out through the door. The doves scatter once again as I make my way to the dog pen. Deena is barking in the far corner. I think she hears the neighbor kids out waiting for the school bus. I wonder what she is trying to say to them.

I call her over to the gate, and put her leash back on her. I can not let her loose in the yard, because she will take off in a flash. Back to the garage we go, and once inside, Deena says hello once again to all of the cats.

We make our way back over to the steps inside. Deena meets me on the steps for her rub down. The continuing saga of the rituals of a dog and her owner. I start to go up the steps, and remember the newspaper. I go back and reach up to grab it from the top of the freezer, and May the cat has taken up residency on top of it. What is it about cats and newspapers? And cardboard boxes too for that matter?

I push the little miss fatty off the paper, and Deena and I head back into the kitchen. I have to put Deena into the laundry room, close the door, and then open up the living room. Coco the horse dog plows through me and into the kitchen. She whines as she circles by the garage door, waiting for me. She sounds like a bottle rocket when she whines.

I set the newspaper on the recliner in the living room, and then Coco and I go out into the garage. She plows and barrels once again, as we enter the garage. The cats scatter, and run for shelter, as she takes full control of the garage, and it’s contents. For the time being, this is her domain, and she wants all the peasants of the kingdom to be fully aware of this fact.

After she is fully content in knowing that all of the room’s inhabitants have shown her majesty their allegiance, she proudly heads for the back garage door like a conquering hero, and signals me with another rounding rendition of bottle rockets on parade.

I open the door, and out she goes. I can let her into the back yard on her own, because she is scared to leave the property. With all her bravery and dominance around the house, she is like a scared little kid when she hears or sees anything out of the ordinary around the perimeter of the yard. It is a sight to see her majesty cowering and acting like a scared little puppy dog, all ninety-five pounds of her. Quite the transformation indeed.

I close the door and hurry as fast as my vision allows, back into the kitchen to quickly prepare their food. A scoop of pedigree, a scoop of kibble, a little more kibble, and just a little more kibble. The food bowls are all set, so now I let Deena back into the living room. The tournament of bowls parade usually takes two and a half minutes, barring any complications.

“There you go my Deena girl. I will be right back.”

Back into the garage once again to let little miss bottle rocket back in. She is waiting for me by the back door, like she always does. She pounds in through the garage, and leaps up onto the porch, skipping all four steps. I don’t see any cats stirring, and I don’t wonder why.

Through two doors and back into the kitchen we go. She spins around as soon as I get into the kitchen. I know what she wants.

Over to the dog food closet I go. One milk bone for you, and another in my pocket for my Deena girl. I stop and ask, “Hello Moshee.”

I wait for the response, “Hello, command please.” She says back to me.

“Time.” I say.

“The time is, six forty-six A M.” She says back to me in her sexy sultry digital voice.

Coco tries to get me to give her another treat. She goes to the middle of the floor, just in front of me, and drops and turns on her back with her horse legs sticking up in the air. She has assumed the position. She is my, “Stop, Drop, and Flop” dog. This trick has worked a few times in the past, but these days, she has to get up pretty early in the afternoon to fool this old fool. I grab Deena’s food bowl off the table, and head into the living room again.

She meets me just inside the door, and I know what she wants too.

“Here you go sweetie.” I reach into my pocket and give her a treat, which she takes over to her bed to eat. I grab her water bowl and head back out into the kitchen. Over to the sink to fill it up. I set it on the counter, and go over to get Coco’s water bowl, filling that one up too. I set Coco’s down in the corner, and grab Deena’s, returning to the living room with it. Down on the floor beside her food bowl it goes.

I give her another good pet, and then head back out into the kitchen. Coco is eating her food when I enter the kitchen. I pet her on the head as I walk by, then I stop in the middle of the kitchen floor.

I pause and reflect, and then I pull out another dog hair from my mouth.

Now then, where was I?

           

09 22 11 Can You Feel It?

Can you feel it? Wait for it, just a few more, ahhhhh, there it is.

Can you smell it? You have to be able to smell it at least? Yup, that’s it. It’s in the air. That sharp, crisp feeling. That cool crisp smell. That reminder that we are soon going to be freezing our butts off.

Yes, that’s it! I knew you knew what I was talking about.

I always thought that the twenty-first was the first day of fall, but my sister in Florida tells me that it is the twenty-second. Now I am all confused. How would she know anyway? Do they even have a fall in Florida? Isn’t it like, umm, summer, three hundred and sixty four days a year down there? Please, give me a break sis. Smile.  Either way, it is fall, and we are on our way up around the final bend. The final turn.

I remember when I was a youngstah, the trees on my road would turn colors in unison. The trees on the start of my road would turn first, and they would follow suit until the end trees would turn last. How does Mother Nature do things like that? Is she psychic? Does she know something that we do not?

Fall is another season that seems to have its own characteristics that are unmistakably hers and hers alone. We have already had a couple mornings here in the low thirties, and that was last week when it was still summer.

I am still hanging on though. I still have shorts on today. I am on fall strike! Picket line and all. I just can’t let go of summer yet. It is still engraved in my non-migrational mush melon.

I can see myself gradually sliding into fall mode, and I predict that it will fully engulf me, sometime around December twenty-first. Just in time to deny the arrival of winter. How convenient.

Fall does hold with it some special times though. I used to run all over the country side here in central Maine, and the fall foliage was just spectacular. I would get to see the differences in the change in relation with different areas of the state. The mountains would show off their fall fury, and then a month later, the coast. It really was a never ending months worth of brilliance. I can still see the oranges, and the reds and yellows a little. Not so much the greens and browns though.

The colors of fall will live inside of me for all time. I am sure I am not alone when I say this. It is just something about the fall colors. It is like you can just walk up and take a bite out of the trees. Like a starburst fruit foliage.

Well, it is just a matter of time until the pumpkins come rolling out of the gardens, and the fall harvests are complete.

The farmers around our town have been chopping corn all week, and the crows are chattering and singing up a storm. I just wish they would hold back on the cow manure until it gets a little colder if you please? And thank you.

Our lady of autumn waits patiently every year until the final buzzer of summer sounds out. The changes are stark, and they are sweet. Such a wonderful event that happens every single year.

I had a lot of fun after we bought our first digital camera back a few years ago when my grandson was born. I think I must have taken about a jazillion pics of the state in different times of the year. I probably took more of fall than the other three seasons put together. I can still remember most of them. Nothing filled up my view finder on my camera quite like the colors of autumn. It seems that I have been able to hold that same feeling for the fall as I did when I was younger.

Thank God for the maples. Autumn just wouldn’t be the same without you.

We have a stretch on our road of about an eighth of a mile or so. This area has maple trees on both sides of the road. During the summer months, it is quite dark when you drive through the area, because the leaves are just so thick that the sun doesn’t have a chance of getting through.

In the fall with the change in the leaves, it’s just quite a sight to ride through it. It’s like going through a brilliant fluorescent tunnel. I was in awe of it every single year. Just one more way that our lady of autumn seems to reach in and pull my soul out of summer. She does it every year, the little devil.

Happy Fall Everyone! May Your Trees Be Merry And Bright?

09 18 11 Three Days Left

I’m sitting here this morning, smack dab in the middle of my house, in the laundry room, and my toes are starting to feel a little chilly. Could it be? Is summer winding down already? Is this the start of another long grueling frigid winter season?

Well, let me tell you all, I am not ready for it in the least. I was just starting to get used to wearing tank tops and shorts. I like wearing tank tops and shorts. I like it a lot! I want my tank tops and shorts, no socks please!

Focus.

Deep Breath.

I know, I know. There are some people out there right now hollering, “Move South You Old sockless Billy Goat! Move South!” Believe me, I hear you loud and clear. It seems that every year I think about it more and more.

I have always lived up here in the north east, and I have visited down south. It seems so foreign to me down there. It is flat, and it just doesn’t even seem to be the same country. It’s just so different.

We have lived out here next to the corn fields and woods for a quarter of a century, and it has become part of me. From the sounds of a rooster a mile up the road that used to greet me every morning when I walked the dogs, to the way my hair on the back of my neck stood up when I would hear the packs of coyotes at night while walking the dogs. It has all become who I am. I don’t think that I will ever be able to rid myself of this place I call home. I don’t know that I would ever want to.

Even now that I can not see any of it, for the most part, I know it is there, and it will always be there. I still smell the smells, hear the sounds, and feel the life that this home of ours has continuously breathed into my soul for so many years.

There are a lot of memories from over the years that play a big part, and those memories are mine and ours and this house’s. Our home turned 100 years old back in 2006. You can tell. There isn’t a straight line in the house. I know. After trying to put new wall board up in the kitchen, I can attest to the crooked nature of this old house. I guess that’s what gives it it’s character. The more time and repair and refurnishing that we seemed to put into this house, the more I realized that we will probably never finish fixing it up.

No matter how much time and effort and money and change we put into this old house, it will always remain, “Our House”. I suppose even after we have moved on and past it.

I have driven past my childhood home in Little Falls a few times as an adult. It seems eerily familiar to me. I sat out front of the house one day, and I could see us kids running around the corner of the house, yelling and screaming and just being kids. I could see myself out in the driveway in the winter, shoveling waste deep snow for what seemed like a week and a half straight. I can still see our dog Scruffy making a bee line for the house after rolling in the manure pile up in Stevens’ barn, sorry Mom, but I can still see it. Smile. I could see us playing hide and seek. I could still feel the simple feelings of home. It was my home back then, and somehow, as I sat there in my car, staring at the house, it still felt like my home, thirty five years later. As I sat there, I could still hear the four thirty whistle from the mill down town. It was a wonderfully strange feeling.

Where was I?

Oh yes, the weather. I am thinking about pulling out my sweat pants this morning. I am also thinking about putting socks on.

I am still thinking.

Nope. I just can’t do it! I will hang on to the summery feeling for as long as I can. There are three days left until summer is over, and the fall solstice comes into view. Darn you fall solstice. Darn you! Why can’t we go from summer right into spring?

I always did like the winter when I was a youngstah. I was always out in it, gobbling it up in huge chunks. I loved the winter, and relished the frigid days.

They seem to have held a different feeling for me back then. I can still taste a pinch of that wonderful childhood pie recipe from those edible days of my youth. I can still taste it, and find myself licking my lips. The memories are that good.

Boy my toes are cold.

Focus.

Ok, I am back. I am still in my shorts and tee shirt. Yes, I crumbled under the pressure and put a tee shirt on this morning, instead of a tank top. Phase one complete. Transformational seasonal chilling engaged.

I want my summer back please! Yes, I said, “My Summer.” As far as I am concerned, it is mine. It has always been mine, and will always be mine. You can go and find your own please. This one is all mine. I consider myself a selfish greedy little pig hog when it comes to my summer. Yes, I said, “My” summer. It has always been mine, and no one else’s. If you happen to find some summer for yourself, then great! Good for you! Just leave mine alone!

No, I am just kidding. Of course you can have some of mine.

NOT! Stay back! Mine! Mine! Mine!

Ok, ok, sorry. Lost my head there for a moment.

My summers still live inside me, and I live inside this house. All in the same, and one along with the other.

Don’t ask me to explain that one, because I can’t.  Just accept that I know exactly what I meant.

I truly hope you have all been able to grab hold of as much of this summer as possible. It truly is an amazing time of year, and holds some of the best memories for me, as I am sure it does for you all as well.

Man, my toes are cold. Wicked cold.

The sun is out this morning.

I think I will go sit out on the front steps and warm up my feet in the morning sun for a bit.

Yup, that’s what I am going to do.

You all have a great summer day. Grab hold of it, drink it up, and take it all in. Three summer days left. Three whole days!

Yee- haw.

09 14 11 First Responders Parade

My wife and I were on our way to pick up our Grandson Jack last Saturday, when we came upon a parade in our local town of Waterville. We pulled up to the traffic lights behind a cruiser, and sat there for over an hour, as the parade precession passed by. This was a state wide event from what we heard. It was a tribute parade for fire and rescue personnel from all points of the state. There were a number of floats in the parade as well. Some of them depicted the skyline of New York City before the tragic events of September 11^th.

We sat there through the parade, and as she told me of the different towns that were in the  parade, we cried and laughed and remembered and were grateful. We were grateful that we lived in such a great country and had the chance to call these brave men and women, Americans. We were even more grateful that we too were Americans, and that our son and grandson were Americans.

There is no better country on the face of the earth, and there has never ever been.

Such a selfless act of giving is unmatched except by our military. This wasn’t about the military though. This was about the first responders, and their sacrifice every day.

One thing that really struck home with me during the parade was when my wife told me of a little boy standing on the street corner near where we were. He was dressed in full fireman’s gear, right down to the oxygen tank and full faced fireman’s helmet. He even had the boots on. This little fireman stood there for the full amount of time that we were there. He stood there on that street corner, never moving, except to wave at the paraders as they proceeded by. It was a sight to behold, and if I could have, I would have gone over and given him a big old bear hug. He doesn’t know it, but he stole a piece of my heart that day. His father stood behind him the whole time waving an American flag with one hand, and the other was on the little boys shoulder. Such a truly wonderful and inspirationally uplifting sight.

There was a military jet flying over head during the parade, and kept buzzing the areas of the parade. It was an awesome sound hearing the  jet coming in low and fast as it swooped down and around the city.

The parade was loaded with antique fire trucks and emergency vehicles all the way from the county, clear down to Boston. As the trucks and other vehicles rolled by, the sirens were blaring and the bells were ringing. The air horns is what seemed to have the biggest effect on me. I don’t know why, but when they lay on those air horns, something rips through my soul. It seems to send a message of sheer urgency through me. It was truly an amazing display of honor and gave us such a sense of pride.

I remember that dark day ten years ago as if it were yesterday, and I will never forget the waves of emotion that swept through me. Emotions from fear, to anger, to hope and love and gratitude. So many emotions passed through me during those long worrisome days. I truly believe that those days changed me, and changed our country. I just hope that no matter what ever happens to this country, we can remain united as one. We need to. We have to.

Before I get totally side tracked with emotion, I must tell you that this parade that we happened upon, was one of the best events I have ever had the privilege of witnessing. There was so much to it. My wife was writing down the different towns that were involved with the parade, and the list was long. All four corners of the state were, representing their towns and communities for such a wonderful event.

There were men’s and women’s auxiliaries there with many men and women who had given a life of devoted service. Then there was the singing fireman.

This guy was also dressed up in full fireman’s gear, complete with oxygen tank. He had a wireless microphone that was transmitting into a float behind him with a speaker system. He was singing patriotic songs, and really put on quite a show. Truly inspiring.

There were old water pumps and water cannons on small platforms with the old style wagon wheels that were being pushed and pulled by firemen. These units must have weighed a ton, but they pushed the pumps and cannons up over the hill near the top of Upper Main Street. I can’t imagine how they did it, but they did. These guys had to be in pretty good shape. I would have died in the process, and would have had to stop at the top of the hill to get a McDonalds sweet tea to replenish my non boyish figure. Smile. Every hundred yards or so, they would stop, and proceed to demonstrate how the cannons worked, shooting a stream of water high into the air and onto the street in front of them.

I hope to God that none of us ever forget the mindless torture of the people in the towers and on the planes and in the pentagon on that day. The tributes must go on forever, not only for this day in history, but for all of the events that have helped shape this country. From the revolution, to the civil wars, up on through WWI and II, never forgetting Viet Nam, or any other war that this country has sent our bravest into.

I remember that day back in 2001. I remember the feeling of being unsure, and I did not like it. One thing that I was sure of though, was that the sacrifices of the Americans on that day would never be forgotten or overlooked by me, for as long as I live.

As the trucks in the parade rolled by, one by one, I thought of the memories of the faces that were walking away from the towers on that morning after they had collapsed. The faces covered in soot and dust and anguish. As the trucks rolled by, one at a time, I remember the visions of the towers falling. I remember the hole that was left in the sky. The hole will be there forever, but it is now a hole full of hope and pride and courage and fortitude. It is a hole filled with the memories of the past, and the dreams of tomorrow.

God Bless the first responders, the men and women who serve our communities. We would not be who we are without you.

God Bless You All, and may He keep you safe.

09 05 11 I'm What?

     I’m What?

Why, how old do I look? I don’t feel that old. I don’t even know how someone that old is supposed to feel. I am supposed to act like what? I beg your pardon? You’re not seriously telling me that I am , how old? No, I am not! Prove it? Ok then, I’ll just hop up onto the, umm,, I’ll just hop up,  hmmmm, What in hell happened to my hopper? Anyone seen my hopper? Could you lend me a hand please?

A state of mind is a mighty powerful thing, don’t you think? Oh what the hell would you know anyway? It can falsely lead you on, without ever really telling you what’s really going on. By the way, what in hell is going on anyway?

A state of mind can also be a wonderful thing. It can replace all of the negative thinking with a compass pointing due north into the sea of tranquility. As long as your dingy doesn’t have a major leak, you are in for a grand old ride. It can help you age gracefully, if there really is such a thing,Is there?

I don’t feel the age that I am, well, most of the time anyway. I just don’t see how I got this old this fast. Wasn’t it just yesterday, or the day before when I was riding my bike back home from Little League practice? Might as well stop at Dar’s Dairy Bar and get a Monster Shake on the way home, or a  double header ice cream cone smothered in jimmies.

How did I get here so fast, and where did everybody go? They were all here just a second ago.

Where did all my Hot Wheels go? Have you seen my Schwinn Sting Ray bike anywhere? I thought I put it right over there, and where are my new Red Ball Jets sneakers? My mom and dad just bought them for me you know. I outgrew them when? Converse All Stars? Really? Could you please tell me where my G.I. Joe’s are, and my new Tonka dump truck?

Oh just forget it, I think I would rather just go out in the field and climb that apple tree that is right out, huh? Where did the apple tree go? Where is our  old house? Who cut the rope swing out of the tree out front, and where are the play pants that my mom just put the knee patches on? Seen my skateboard? No, I didn’t think so. What good are you anyway?

I don’t live here anymore? We moved away when? Huh? Where to? No way! New Hampshire? And then back to Maine? Really?

I seem to remember sitting in Spanish class in High School. That really did happen, right? I thought so. Then I got married right? Yes I remember, it was just a few days ago. What? How long ago? No way. Really? So that’s how I got here?

Seems to me I had a son crawling around here across the kitchen floor just a few minutes ago. Where in blazes did he go? It’s time for me to give him his bath, right? I mean, please, where did “He” go? I need him to hurry up, the school bus will be here in a couple minutes, and he still needs to learn how to ride his new bike, huh? He is working now? Where? He is? What the,? I didn’t even remember to give him his lunch money! Does he need a ride home? He has his own car too? When did he get his license? He did? Who taught him how to drive? I did? That long ago? What the.?

I seem to remember a tall beautiful girl with dark brown hair and a beautiful smile also. Have you seen her? Oh yeah, she’s right over there, and she hasn’t changed a bit.

Hey! How come she hasn’t changed, and there is a gray haired billy goat staring back at me in the mirror? What’s going on, and who glued this other chin to my face?

Didn’t I used to wear size 36/36 pants just the other day? Who bought me all these size 40/34’s? So I am getting wider, and shorter? How wonderful! You think that’s funny? I think it’s just another sick twisted joke that you all are in on. I know it, I just know it!

And could you please tell me who put the stupid floor so far away from me? What kind of sick demented prank is this? A moveable floor. What will they think of next? Feet that slowly disappear? I can just picture it. Hey wait a second, where in hell did my feet go, and how come there is more hair on  my back than on the top of my head? Who’s brilliant idea was that? Why do I ache everywhere, did I sleepwalk with a gang banger from East L.A.? What is that weird smell? What? It’s me? How long have I smelled like this? Really? Could someone please tell me, is that my dog that’s staring at me? Why is she staring at me anyway? She wants me to give her a what? A treat? I think I need a treat more than she does. This is getting out of hand now people. Cut it out already!

Next thing you’ll be telling me is that I have a grandson or something.  Huh? I have a what? Me? What the? Isn’t my son too young to have kids of his own? He’s how old? What? You’re kidding, right? I suppose he calls me Grampa or some old name like that? He calls me what? Ok, now this is really starting to freak me out.

Boy I would love to  just go out in the driveway and hop into my ’72 Chevelle and just take off and  leave all this, What? Where is my Chevelle? I traded it? When? 1985? For what? Another Chevy? Chevy what? Cavalier? What in hell is a Cavalier, and where is my Chevelle?

I think you are seriously deranged my friend, why I bet if I looked out into the driveway I would see my old, what is that maroon van doing in my driveway? It’s mine? Oh man, that’s a Chevy too? A Chevy  what? Uplander? What in hell is an uplander? this is getting ridiculous. I need a beer. What? I don’t drink beer any more? Fruit juice? Please tell me it isn’t prune juice at least. Phew. Huh? It is prune juice? Now this is getting way outta hand!

What are all these pills? Who takes them all? Me? Oh hell to the no! Do I look like a lab rat to you? I don’t think so! You are out of your mind! I do? Really? For what? At my age? Why, how old am I? Huh? I am how old? This is so very very wrong in so many different ways.

Boy I could use a beer! Oh ya, I forget. Well then, at least let me bum a cigarette off of you, huh? I don’t what?