When Fall Comes To New England

Autumn! Fall! Call it what you will, I love it! For many people spring is THE season – new beginning, rebirth, the whole Easter/flowers/bunnies feeling, new baseball season. And I admit it – those first warm days (over 45 degrees) with a brilliant blue clear sunny sky and you wear a T-shirt – definitely make me want to skip work and go hiking in New Hampshire. But September and October is my time of year. Days are comfortably warm with dry clean air and you can lug 35 lbs on your back without over-heating. Canoeing on water (still warm) surrounded by exquisite foliage colors only makes you wish the days were longer so you could paddle forever.
Nights are “see-your-breath” chilly – perfect for evening campfires and toasty warm sleeping bags and hot chocolate. Mosquitoes don’t exist anymore. Many years I took a week’s vacation in mid-September to hike or camp. Kids are back to school, grownups are back to work, the woods are empty and quiet, and you can pick any site you want at any campground. Some of my best backpacking trips were done in mid-September or over Columbus Day weekend. Vermont’s Long Trail, Acadia National Park, White Mountains – all near perfect, making me wish I had taken two weeks off. I want to play outside. I want to work outside. I want to live in the New Hampshire mountains. One of my few regrets is that I don’t get to go hiking or canoeing very often any more.

The other “new” about Autumn is the start of a new Youth Hockey season. I loved the anticipation as a player, and now as a referee for the past 23 years I still look forward to getting the skates on and being a part of the game. It’s exercise, it’s hobby, it’s challenge, it’s teaching, it’s learning. Each year I have the same wish that other referees would call games tighter. Each year the head honcho’s who run the mandatory seminars and insist that we crack down which will make the games better in the long run. It is encouraging to be part of an organization that is always striving for self-improvement (and means it), even when they don’t improve as much as they hoped. Next year they will come back trying all the harder. And the games are fun. The Mite-C players - 7 & 8 year olds who can barely stand up on skates – treat each game like the Stanley Cup finals. When you have never played before, every game is the most important one you have ever played. I get to help them learn - in some ways better than the coach can (I can talk to the player at the face-off or while skating and quietly give hints or advice one-on-one. The coach has to wait until the player returns to the bench – and both have long since forgotten the exact play to be discussed). Even the older players can benefit from some friendly advice – even if it is while I am closing the penalty box door for him. I can treat a penalty as a teaching opportunity instead of a punishment for doing wrong. Even hormone-fueled teenaged boys appreciate a calm word of instruction over an irate tirade from the coach. I get to take on as many hockey games as I want – fitting them into the weekend at my own (the families own) convenience - or choosing to not take games on a day or weekend when we are just too busy. It’s good Christmas money on top of all the other reasons I love hockey. Sometimes I think I would like to play again (there are lots of leagues for guys my age) but the thought of paying to play over getting paid to ref keeps me in a striped uniform for now.

And then there are the fall holidays! Columbus Day was always a great get-away time. Three days for camping, hiking, sight-seeing. I still can’t believe that the camera malfunctioned on the Mt. Garfield trip – some of the best scenery I have ever been witness to. I hate that I don’t get the day off from work anymore.

Halloween was always a big holiday at my childhood home. First, the idea of people giving you free candy was incredible. Later, the exhilaration of sneaking up to toilet paper a friend’s house without getting caught was addictive. Me, Mark & Dave Tanner, Dana Colley, occasionally others, later my girlfriend (Sue) and friends Eileen and Corey– we prided ourselves on our artistic ability. No heaving whole roles into the tree branches. We decorated shrubs and bushes and lawn ornaments (I even got onto Mr. Robinsons porch roof and tied a toilet paper scarf around the neck of the wooden eagle on the chimney --- and they were expecting us!) as if we were doing gallery work to be judged. We only did our friends houses, people who found humor and appreciated our efforts. One Halloween, Dana’s father wouldn’t let him go out with us – worried that we would get in trouble – and told us not to do his house. Dana TP’ed his own house that year just to get revenge. One year Caron and Kendra lay in wait for us, determined to catch us in the act. After they realized we had come and gone – successfully – Caron came out looking for us. The police happened to come by just then and scolded her and confiscated her softball bat. We were hiding about ten feet away in the bushes. Those days of youth (ok – I was in my late teens and early twenties) are gone but the feelings never leave.

So it’s Autumn, I’m wistful, I’m happy, I am antsy. Luckily for Mary I wouldn’t have gotten away this fall for any grand adventures – so I can’t blame her wedding on my not living my dreams. She will be starting a whole new life this fall. I get to give her away. I wonder if she will feel like I do about fall (that would be nice). I wonder if this will change how I feel (I doubt it).

To sum it up – here is one of my favorite songs
When Fall Comes To New England Words And Music By: Cheryl Wheeler

· When fall comes to new england The sun slants in so fine
· And the air's so clear You can almost hear the grapes grow on the vine
· The nights are sharp with starlight And the days are cool and clean
· And in the blue sky overhead The northern geese fly south instead
· And leaves are Irish Setter red When fall comes to New England
· When fall comes to New England And the wind blows off the sea
· Swallows fly in a perfect sky And the world was meant to be
· When the acorns line the walkways Then winter can't be far
· From yellow leaves a blue jay calls Grandmothers Walk Out In Their Shawl
· And Chipmunks Run The Old Stone Walls When fall comes to New England
· The frost is on the pumpkin The squash is off the vine
· And winter warnings race across the sky
· The squirrels are on to something And they're working overtime
· The foxes blink and stare and so do I
· 'Cause when fall comes to New England Oh I can't turn away
· From fading light on flying wings And late good-byes a robin sings
· And then another thousand things When fall comes to New England
· When fall comes to New England

My kind of baby

My sister Heather at 9:51pm 10/5/06 delivered Jessica Alyson (or maybe Allison) - her first child, my 10th niece. I will happily visit, Susie will greedily hold her (get her baby "fix") and we will return home WITHOUT it!!!!


In case you couldn't guess, HerMajesty was a bit excited as I called her (she was on her way to work) at 10:30.

"JESSICA ALYSON! 7.4lb! WHAT COLOR HAIR? HOW LONG? WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DIDN'T ASk?
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU LET THE KIDS TALK TO HER BUT YOU DIDN'T? CALL YOUR MOTHER BACK RIGHT NOW ON THE OTHER PHONE WHILE I'M ON THIS ONE!
So I call but the line is busy. SuB hangs up

So I call my mother back again but who is already on the line with her? You guessed it!

Peaceful Meadows

Dad (Don Sr.) worked for many years at Peaceful Meadows Farm in Whitman. It was a short walk from the house he grew up in and was owned by his good friend Billy Hoag. I can remember going there with him and walking through the cow barns and being nervous that one might swat me with a tail or worse - poop on me. There were some chicken roaming freely, a cool hay storage room, and strange piping and equipment. I think dad was more of a maintenance man and machine operator (not a herdsman) and he occasionally drove a milk truck. The milk trucks were so exciting - with bins filled with little ice chips, milk, butter, eggs, etc...
(actually, another guy was the driver who came to our house and us kids would "sneak" into the truck and grab a few ice chips to eat while he brought the milk in - yes, the milk man delivered to our house will dad was away!). During the summer, Dad drove a supply of milk to Camp Squanto in Myles Standish Forest. I was amazed at how BIG the main dining hall seemed and there was a HUGE moose head hanging on the wall. As a little kid I was greatly impressed. Sometimes for a treat we would drive to the farm and get an ice cream cone (which is what Peaceful Meadows has been famous for over the past many decades). You could take your cone and walk inside the barn and look at the cows (and flies and poop) and even some goats.

I stopped there on my way home from Brockton today - got an ice cream and picked up a gallon of milk. There are only two cows left - a mother and calf for display. With Mr. Hoag old and ill and no local herdsmen to be found, the herd has been fostered out to a farm in Springfield. A bunch of friendly but unknown teens worked the ice cream stand. The woman in the store didn't know who Mr. Hoag was. Barns are empty and fields are getting over grown and new houses are encroaching all around. The Toll House (which was a mile up the road and a night job for Dad as a cook) burned down many years ago and replaced by condos and a Wendy's. Dad's childhood home (about halfway between the two) burned down 10 years ago, replaced by an AutoMart. Get ready to say goodbye to an icon and a childhood memory and a link to my personal history.