Julie's back from her big adventure

Julie spent the week with her favorite ex-teacher at Martha's Vineyard teaching art to 4-9 year olds. The perfect dream job (except for the no pay part) for her.

Manny being Manny (as of 7/31/08 4:00pm many miles from Boston)

(sung to the tune of Dock Of The Bay)

Hittin’ is what Manny’s done
He’ll be hittin’ though he won't even run
the rest of his stunts I won’t miss
In the Dodgers wall there’s no place to piss, yeah yeah
I'm waiting now to see Jason Bay
Hoping the tide will turn our way
Ooo, I just hope that gettin’ Jason Bay
is not Wastin' time
I lost my love of Manny
Let him and go and play in LA
'Cause I've a new guy to root for
look like Jason's gonna come save the day
So I'm just gonna root for my team at Fenway
a bit sad that Brandon and Craig went away
Ooo, I just hope that gettin’ Jason Bay
will ease all our minds

nothing was ever gonna change
Manny would still be sitting out games
He wouldn't do what $20 million tells him to do
So I guess he'll remain the same, yes

Jason’s here to hit our guys home
And I bet he’ll leave McCormack alone
From Pittsburgh and last place he’s roamed
Just to make the Green Monster his own
Now, I'm gonna sit and root for Jason Bay
Watching for homers flying away
Oooo-wee, thankful we got Jason Bay
just in time, yeah yeah

I'm Proud of my wife!

Following in my daughters footsteps – or – Why Erastus?

Why Erastus indeed. The simple answer is “I’m not exactly sure why he intrigues me – he just does”.

“Uncle Erastus” lived from 1837 to 1897 and once owned a piece of property that my family now owns. Our only direct knowledge of this long forgotten person was a reproduction of an old blue plate photo of him in front of a hunting shack with two dogs – allegedly on our mutually owned island in Green Harbor - and that he had served in the Civil War. Mary had done some research on Uncle Erastus and discovered some of his war history and that he served with the Freedman’s Bureau in South Carolina during the Reconstruction period following the war. Mary “chases dead people” – first as a hobby for her pure love of genealogy and old graveyards, now as a full-time job with her Masters degree. With the NEGHS she has access to all sorts of resources that the average hobby genealogist can’t get at. But I’ve been amazed at what I have been able to stumble across through google searches and such. Aside from the differences in returns based on if you search through Google or Yahoo or MSN, you get different results by using quotations and by putting his last name first or adding his middle initial. So discovering the mechanics of researching somebody has it’s own level of mystery and challenge and satisfaction. But back to the initial question – why Erastus? My ancestor was Barnabus (or Barnabas – depending on who wrote the record in question). Barnabus’ father and Erastus’ grandfather were brothers. Erastus married after the war but had no children to one day research his legacy. What Mary and I have stumbled across so far leads me to believe he was a very interesting person and deserves to be known. Now I suppose that any ancestor I picked would have been likewise a fascinating project, but since childhood there existed an interest in the original owner of our island. After Mary shared the info she had uncovered, my interest was elevated and I discovered the excitement of not only finding more info but also trying to decipher what it means. It’s as if I am writing a mystery book and attempting to figure out how the story goes, assuring that the facts make sense and fit correctly. Maybe more accurately, it’s like somebody already wrote the book but hid each chapter in different places – leaving clues as to where you can find them. No wonder Mary loves her job – she gets paid to solve the mysteries of people’s ancestors. So in a way, I am following in my daughter’s footsteps – chasing dead people. In my case though, I imagine it is only one dead person (although of course many other peoples lives play into his and must be known to some degree if I am to reconstruct Erastus properly. They hold many of the clues.). Other direct ancestors have been somewhat reconstructed already by others, and Erastus is the only one who has caught my interest enough to chase him. Besides, he apparently left behind a rather extensive paper trail – unlike most of our predecessors so my chances of success are greatly increased. I already acquired a letter he sent to an undetermined female cousin “Joe”. Mary got one from a library in California. The Boston Public Library has a collection with 188 items of his. The South Carolina Historical Society has an apparently large collection of his letters, military records, and even some family photographs. I am captivated by the concept of reconstructing this Reconstructionist. How much effort should I exert, at what cost (for considerable money I could acquire copies of almost everything), and for what ultimate purpose? What will happen if am able to reconstruct him - if I can “catch” him? Maybe I’ll have to ask Wiley Coyote for some advice.

Don't Even Ask

suffice to say it was one of those things. You try to teach your kids that you're supposed to think things through before you do it, but I didn't heed my own advice.

MAN it hurts!

It's Bearly Pawsible

The bear problem in New Hampshire is getting worse. Not only are they raiding dumpsters at restaurants and wandering through peoples backyards, they are loitering outside of Zeb's - hitting people up for money, bullying young boys, and getting frisky with the ladies.

Why does Joe look so sad?

Because Joe forgot to bring "essential item #9" camping with him. It is what he always wanted, and he got one for his birthday in May - but when it came time to go camping (the ideal place and the exact reason you want to own one) he could not find it. Let me tell you how many times in 5 days he wished he had it with him!

Saco River Rope Swing

One of the favorite activities when we camp in NH is the rope swing across from the campground beach on the Saco. At about 100 feet wide, the river is knee-to-waist deep for about 80 feet and then drops off to over my head right up to the far shore. Note that Jamie (in the water) is clinging to the river bank roots but not actually touching bottom. Corey (superwhite - if he was friendlier we could call him Casper!) swings out a good distance, but....

at one point I was out there helping Nikki as a group of 20-something kayakers were also giving it a go.
After all the boyfriends had finished showing off to their girlfriends I heard one of the young ladies say "but the old guy was the best at it". I will gladly dismiss the "old guy" crack because I get to say "I've STILL GOT IT! Take THAT you young hotshots!"

and just for the record - Sue also took a swing off of it and did so much more gracefully than the 20ish girl who went ahead of her.

As Paul Simon sang "Still crazy after all these years"

((more pictures at http://picasaweb.google.com/don.sueblauss/Camping08 )

come camping with us in New Hampshire

Camping

North Conway here we come.
(funny - the camp ground is in Conway, not North Conway, but we always refer to it that way because that's where we go to shop at Zeb's and the 5 & dime and expolore town)
So Eastern Slope Camping Area on the Saco River near Dianna's Bath and Swift River Lower Basin and swimming, rafting/kayaking, shopping, eating, playing softball & whiffleball at the camp field - same old routine that we love so well year after year and the kids can't wait to go!

http://www.easternslopecamping.com/index.html

Unexpected scavenger hunt

We got an invitation to attend "Lizard Bowling" at 6:45 in Hanson - so off I went with Jamie and Joe, having no idea what "lizard" bowling actually is. When we got to the bowladrome at 6:30 the only person there was the attendant at the desk. The old man assured I he also had no idea what Lizard Bowling was but because they never do that sort of stuff here, we must be mistaken and we want to try the Hanover Alley's. 15 minutes drive later, we still did not find what we were looking for - only another virtually deserted facility. Dissapointed, yes - but determined to salvage something positive I decided we are close to Building 19-1/3 and I need new sandals. I found my new footwear, and a couple of those collapsable camping chairs (although we call them "bunny show chairs") - one a rocker and one a recliner! Joe and Jamie also found a couple of cheap prizes, and away we went. While cutting through Bryantville on our way back, I recalled that we would be going by the Mt Pleasant Cemetary where many Everson ancestors are buried - including the elusive Erastus Everson. Having never been there before we decided to try to find some ancestoral gravestones so we could let Mary know. I promised a dollar to whoever found my ancient uncle. After finding everybody BUT Erastus (and I knew he was there because brother-in-law Scott told me he's seen the stone there) it occurred to me that we should be looking for American Flags because of course Major Erastus W. Everson was a Civil War veteran and would be marked with a flag. Now the boys could run from flag to flag until Jamie yelled "FOUND HIM!".

The Garden - 2008

Our garden is of course a living growing entity, but it seems that our patio is also growing. Scott noticed it right away when he arrived for our annual "Friends of Youth Ministry" cookout, but in case you are not in a position to view it up close and personal I'll gladly show you.


This is circa 2005


















this is circa 2007



















this is 2008

Just in case you want to get jealous

usually we want summer to stay as long as possible, but this year I (we) can't wait for November! Eat your heart out!

http://www.sandals.com/main/lucia/lu-home.cfm

But I found out today that the resort is about 60% full as of now, which means there are openings if anyone wants to meet us there.

Ya.

You will be getting the ol' "My friends went to St Lucia and all I got was this lousy T-shirt" tee shirt.

CELTIC'S PRIDE - My Kind'a Team

Most kids develop a love of sports early and forever bond to their favorite teams from their childhood. I was born in the perfect time and place. The Patriots came into existence when I was 5. They were never the favorites, always the underdogs, but had colorful personnel (offensive lineman Lenny St. Jean owned a seedy bar in Hanson back in the day). The Sox had the Impossible Dream team when I was 12 and went from lovable losers to colorful lovable underdog World Series losers. The Big Bad Bruins - always underdogs to les Canadiens - had Orr and Espo and a working-class team of lesser known under-rated players in my prime teen years. But it was the Celtic's who taught Boston how to be winners. They were built to win, expected to win, and they did - in historic fashion. Red Auerbach mastered the concept of "role players" blending with stars who didn't act or think like stars. Everyone knew their role and knew that success depended on them accepting and fulfilling their roles. And succeed they did - when I was 2,4,5,6,7,8,9,10,11, 13 & 14 (and more again later). "THEY" (the opponents) always had the nationally recognized prima dona superstar. They liked Wilt better than Russell, Magic better than Bird, Anyone better than Havlicek (heck - he wasn't even a starter half the time but invented the "6th Player" concept and turned it into an annual award) We always had the "defense first, just doin' my part" stars who understood that the guy coming off the bench and doing his job was equally important as the starter doing his job. The 2007-2008 Celtics "got it". They had the stars who didn't care about being "stars" and they had the role players who played their roles with pride and tenacity. Kevin Garnett and Ray Allen and House and Posey et al became champions last night. Paul Pierce became a series MVP and a "Celtic Legend" last night while being his teams 4th highest scorer of the game. He was happy with the points he scored but was proud of how he minimized Kobe's impact -totally not the thoughts of a typical superstar, but totally the thoughts of a "Celtic Champion". Garnett and Allen will someday be "Hall-of-Famers" and be forever associated with a great Celtic's championship. Pierce became "rafter-worthy", earning an undeniable place alongside Russell & Cousey & Havlicek & Bird & all the others.

Congratulations to the Celtic's on becoming Champ's (again).

Congratulations to Paul Pierce on becoming one of the "All Time Celtic Greats".

Thank You Mr Bush

Don't get me wrong. I'm very glad that Mr Bush is giving us some extra money back - but if he thinks that the average American is going to splurge on frivolous toys instead of paying bills or filling their gas tank, he's stupider than we think (and, as if every taxpayer buying $300 worth of stuff is going to fix everything - he's a total Dupe who thinks WE are total Dupes).

Sue & I are actually lucky in that we are getting about as much as anyone possibly can. I could wipe out most (but not all) of our overdue bills with it - or I could get some car work done and pay for Julies driver Ed - or I could partially pay for any one of a number of house maintenance projects long overdue. In the end, lots of these items will be left as they have been for years - still pending. We will pay off some debt, we will pump the septic tank, we will help Julie, we will fill three vehicles gas tanks, and I hope stop the leaky bathtub. We will still need a new roof, windows, doors, tires, and ball joints. Honestly, some of it will pay for our campsite and gas to get to North Conway for the 4th of July, and some of it has been put towards our fall St Lucia trip - but honestly, we were going struggle but still do those even without the "Stimulus Refund" so you can't actually say that it helped the economy. It will help us accomplish these things a bit easier though. My to-do list will be slightly shorter for a month or two (maybe). The economy won't be the least bit better, gas prices (all prices) will still be climbing much faster than my paycheck, but I will still say "Thank you Mr. President for your misguided, misinformed and foolishly optimistic game-plan. I really wish I could buy a new guitar or laptop or big-screen TV - but I'm grateful for the help in avoiding bankruptcy or forecloser or credit card debt or repossession or any of the many financial disasters that so many Americans are facing". Now if only somebody could think of a plan to fix the economy so we can get a raise so we can buy cool stuff.

A feeling of entitlement

As kids growing up we simply felt that the world around us was ours to use as we saw fit. The fields in Hall’s Farm, the woods behind Casoli’s, the river behind the Colley’s & Hannigans, Urrans Pond, Grampa Mac’s Pond (actually his land on Maquan Pond), and all points in between – we understood that other people technically owned this land but “why shouldn’t we be allowed to play there unconditionally?”

Now as a grown-up parent, I try to teach my own kids respect for other peoples property and privacy, and I hate it when they act as if they are entitled to anything. I then of course feel guilty (I can’t believe we were so self-centered as kids) and hypocritical (why should I deny them the same sense of freedom that we enjoyed?).

Part of my dilemma has been somewhat resolved (or at least rationalized for me) recently. Mary’s love of – and now career in – genealogy has prompted me to research my own family’s local history. Combined with brother Wes’ collection of old family anecdotes and history, it has led me to know why we as kids felt entitled to free reign of our environs. It’s because of the Everson’s! Back in the 1800’s around the time that Pembroke’s West parish became the separate town of Hanson, the Everson clan was apparently omni-present – there were tons of them and they multiplied with great success. They apparently lived all around the east and south sides of Hanson. My great-great-great grandfather Barnabas Everson owned a large parcel between what is now Indian Head Street and Wamputuck Pond. It included all of what is now, the Little League Field complex, the Hanson Town Forest and further south along the road as well. He married into the Howland/Bates family who owned land across the street and extending back to Maquan Pond (ring a bell?). At some later point in time he purchased and moved to a large tract of farmland along side of the railroad tracks by the South Hanson Station. This would be the farm we as kids knew as “Hall’s Farm”. The house I grew up in at 30 Phillips St was built for my great-great-grandmother Imogene McClellan (Barnabas’ daughter. It stands to reason that all of Phillips St was once part of the larger Everson Farm parcel. I never knew until very recently that our neighbor (3 houses up the street) Mr. Ford was actually Grampa Mac’s cousin. Our neighbors 2 houses up were Howlands, and the house next door was my great-grandfather Roddy McClellan. I never realized it before but it’s all starting to make sense now – it was all a “family compound”! And we don’t have to travel far to see the reach that the clan had. 300 yards east on Main street is where Barnabas owned a saw mill and hired George McClellan (who married his daughter Imogene) to build the huge chimney which still stands prominently today. George and Imogene’s grandson Edgar (Grampa Mac) married Sally Annis who eventually lived at 30 Phillips St. Her parents lived for awhile in a house tucked away behind Urran’s Pond. Great-grandfather Billy Annis was found dead in the woods behind the Plymouth County Hospital (where now is housed the local 4-H extension office) on High St – geographically about halfway between Phillips St and Maquan Pond. So you see, without knowing it, we WERE entitled to having all of South Hanson as our playground. It was genetically and historically pre-destined and all of our neighbors were aware of our connection to this corner of the world even if we kids weren’t. That must be why they never complained (not out loud anyway) much if we short-cutted through their yards and built forts in their woods.

Now none of the Phillips St. neighbors are relatives, homes long since sold and resold. Only Nenna (Mom) and my sister Heather (the product of a Howland/McClellan Phillips St marriage) and baby Jessica remain as direct descendants on the Phillips St “ancestral homestead”. Aunt Maria, cousin Mo, and her children remain on the Maquan Pond “ancestral homesite”. The rest of us have relocated to places where it will be impossible for our children’s children to feel an entitlement to. Our half-acre in Carver will never be sub-divided into a family compound (unless Joe moves into the chicken coop and Jamie lives in the tree fort – don’t laugh, it’s not much different than the set-up that Aunt Sally and the Doyle cousins are living in right now - and on less land!).

I want my kids to understand why “The Pond” is important, so that they will respect it and revere it accordingly. Maybe this is why I maintain an unrealistic dream to someday acquire the “Pond” land (I’d obviously have to win big on the MegaMillions, offer Maria a really sweet deal, and count on the fact that she loves Sue & Mary so much!! She’s only seven years older than me, so based on MY genetics she will most likely outlive me – not that I hold any preferential standing in her list of potential heirs anyway!)

I suppose that at some point in time - hopefully not in MY lifetime - the Pond land with get sub-divided and built on, restricting access and eventually getting lost and absorbed into the rest of the bigger outside world.

So maybe I’ll start anew and spend my "bound-to-happen-any-day-now" lottery ticket windfall buying a 200 acre farm/mountain in New Hampshire where my kids can continue on after I am gone – generations of my own offspring having unexplained feelings of entitlement to the land of their fore-fathers. Maybe 150 years from now some young descendant will try to figure out who I was and what I did and why I mattered.

(if he figures it out, I hope he holds a séance and explains it to me!)

If you go to San Francisco be sure to wear some flowers in your hair

I've been singing this song in my head all day today. It was sung by "The Mama's and the Papa's" in 1967.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/San_Francisco_%28Be_Sure_to_Wear_Flowers_in_Your_Hair%29
At the high school it's "Decade Day" and the decade is 1960's. The kids are encouraged to research the assigned decade and dress accordingly for the day.

In 1967 I was 12 years old so although I didn't drop acid and attend sit-ins or Grateful Dead concerts, I have indelible images of the times. So as I drove to the school this morning to drop off scrambled eggs (3 dozen from our own hens) for the teacher appreciation brunch, there was my beautiful Julie all decked out in sandals, ankle length earth-tones skirt, peace sign necklaces, and a hand-made daisy wreath in her long flowing slightly unkempt blonde hair. She was 100% authentic - absolutely the perfect image of the stereotypical San Francisco hippy girl with a bouquet of flowers to put in the National Guardsmens gun barrels (thankfully there were none of them there). Talk about sensory stimuli triggering flashbacks. If she doesn't win the prize for "Best Outfit", the judges obviously didn't live during those times and therefore don't recognize the authenticity of her "look".

As she climbed out of the van (shame it wasn't decked out like the Scooby-Doo van) she innocently wondered aloud if she might be able to organize a sit-in just to try to be more authentic. She is such a living anachronism! She wasn't simply imitating a hippy - she actually is one, just born 40 years too late.

what a difference a year makes

Last year about this time Julie was so surprised and excited because she threw the discus almost 90 feet (about 30 feet better than she started the year at) and qualified for State competition (a feat she hadn't particularly considered). Although she never viewed herself as an "athlete", her coaches did.

This year she is disappointed and "had a bad day" if she throws it less than 90.
(ps: that still places her 2nd in most meets, behind her own teammate Kayla who typically throws 110-120)
Julie has gotten accustomed to throwing 95-100 feet, but now she has another teammate Mari who is challenging her. Once this year Mari had her best throw while Julie had an off day, slipping Julie into 3rd place - and Julie didn't like it! (who knew she IS competitive after all?)

Still, League competition has proven to be little competition with Carver generally sweeping the discus event - Kayla, Julie, Mari. Now on to Districts and States where the real challenges will be found (against kids from the BIG schools like Brockton and Fall River and Springfield, where there are dozens of girls statewide who throw over 100 ft).

GOOOOOOOO JULIE!!!!!!!!



================================

PS: Julie called to let us know she threw a personal best 103' 6" today for second place. Way to go Julie!!!

Why can't anything be easy?

The plan for the day was skip church (I went yesterday, played for Confirmation Mass) re-install the garden pond, set some patio blocks that are going where the pond used to be, and try to fix Sue's bikes brakes.

9:00am - Skip church - done (funny side note: I know a referee who's name is Skip Church. I wonder how many Sunday morning games he does?)
9:30 am - Fix Sue's bike - the rear brake cable is rusted solid so I have to buy a new one and I didn't get as far as testing out the gear shifter which also isn't working, so - NOT done.
10:00am - there is a big root smack dab in the middle of where the pond is being located. The bow saw is too flimsy, the reciprocal saw blade isn't big enough, but the chain saw surprisingly started up easy and did the job so the hole is dug. Unfortunately, there is a crack in the plastic pond so I have to get some sealant at the hardware store.
11:00am - at the hardware store and Sue calls. She is at the high school and the truck won't start.
11:30am - can't get the truck restarted. Mr Rezendez the school janitor give a jump start. I need to go get a new battery. I leave Sue the van and take the truck home. The stupid clamp that holds the battery in place won't let go, so I fix the leak in the pond and set it in place and back-filling it. - Pond done (well, not filled, but it's in place).
1:30PM - BOY do I wish I had told Joe "no" to the friends birthday party (30 minutes away) but I drive Corey to work, pick up a card for the birthday boy, and drive Joe to The Charlie Horse restaurant and arcade in West Bridgewater. After meeting the mother (new people we don't know) and seeing which of Joes rowdy friends are there, I figure I can run over to K-Mart in Brockton and get a new battery. The handy vehicle year/model chart tells me which battery I need - of course the one they are out of. I do manage to get a package of new bike cables.
4:30pm - pick up Joe, manage to get him out of the arcade by 5:00 and home at 5:30pm to cook supper.
6:00pm - finally find the the ratchett wrench I needed to un-screww the battery clamp
6:15pm - discover that Sears is open until 7:00pm
6:30pm - arrive at Sears, but the Auto Department guy says he's closed. But when he discovers I only need a battery, he determines it can be rung in at a different register. He looks up the battery I need, but it doesn't match the size that K-Mart determined. The one Sears says looks too small and doesn't have the same "650 cold cranking amperage" as the one currently in the truck. The clerk snootily offers to show me what his computer says, so because the "bring your final selections to the register" announcement is being made - I go for it.
7:15pm - battery installed and the truck starts, the pond is in but not filled, the patio bricks that Joe put down for me will need to be re-done, Sue's bike seat is raised and I have new cables but when I get back to it is anybodies guess.

Mothers Day - A Walk in the Park

Fenway Park, that is!

The Red Sox do a cool thing on Mothers Day - they open up Fenway from 11:00am through 2:00pm for free. You get to enter at gate "C" (under the center field bleachers), go out onto the warning track next to the visiting teams bullpen, and -staying only on the dirt "warning track" - walk the entire perimeter of the field. It was beautiful weather, the crowd numbered in the thousands (bigger than at some teams games!), and parking was free. We (me, Sue, Corey, Julie, Jamie, Nikki, and Joe) happily checked out the dents make from fly balls, practiced making imaginary leaping catches against the padded outfield wall, inspected the "green monster", the dugouts and the bullpens. Various family members imagined themselves actually playing on the field (Sue, Corey, Nikki & Joe) and Joe scooped a pocket-full of Fenway dirt from center field. Just before leaving the building, Sue bought a raffle ticket for an authentic 2007 Championship Ring (valued at aprox. $20,000 - nine rings being offered) or a special edition "Red Sox Audi 30" (valued at aprox. $30,000). Joe spent a moment in awe at the 5-piece jazz band (drummer, trumpet, sax, trombone & tuba) playing just outside of the mens room in the concourse. All in all, it was a fun adventure for everybody - especially the Red Sox Fan Mom who still has her "Bill Lee scrap book" in her hope chest. The people she loves the most (although missing Mary & Tim), good behavior, great weather, and St. Ted's Cathedral - doesn't get much better than that!

Happy Mothers Day, Sue

(Soon you should be able to see a video-ography edition of our trip on Sue's blog, once she edits and adds a musical score and graphics)

End of an Era

The family daily schedule has been such that thinking I might have time to coach is a conclusion that no intelligent person would ever arrive at. Last year I knew it, but ended up being an assistant coach to Nikki's softball team anyway, and it was fairly disasterous (logistically and emotionally) and unfullfilling. This year we originally thought things might be different, but after filling in the calendar with Nikki's softball, Joe's baseball, Jamies 4-H, Yon's swimming and basketball, Tim's bingo setup, Sue's work schedules - what should have been obvious became undeniable. So no coaching this year for me and there is a major flaw with the "maybe next year" theory - although she can play town ball for two more years, Nikki is a very good pitcher so it can be presumed that next year (and each year afterward) she will be playing ball for the school instead of the town league. Joe has a few more years of Little League left, but the politics involved pretty much remove any opportunity for me to coach his team. There is nobody left to coach after them. So - although it's not absolutely 100% for certain, I am in all likelyhood in coaching retirement now. For 30 years and four sports and thousands of players, being a coach has been an important part of my identity and is largely responsible for who I am.

And now I'm not.

The more things change, the more they stay the same

25 years ago

Let’s see if my memory is even close to correct. April 1983 – I was 28 years old, engaged to be married, working in Imperia’s cabinet factory, planning a Patriots Day weekend get-away for me & Sue, preparing for another softball season, living at home after a year of living in Halifax with brother Wes and friend Deane S. and I wasn’t playing in a band at the moment. I did believe that love and marriage were a lifelong thing, and thankfully I had found someone who I could easily envision spending that much time with. I assumed we would have a few children, and we would go on lots of adventures, hiking/camping trips, play and coach sports teams, and have a happy idyllic life. I assumed that I would work until retirement age, and that Sue would finish college and go on to some interesting career – but neither of us would be in “all-consuming jobs” that leave little time for family and fun. I assumed that we would enjoy grandchildren, growing old together while continuing to adventurously explore the world, and eventually I (being 8 years older) would die first.

Now – 25 years later

Cardinal Sean O’Malley celebrated a special anniversary Mass for any couples in the Archdiocese who would celebrate 25 or 50 year anniversaries in the current calendar year of 2008. That’ll be us on August 27th.

http://www.thebostonpilot.com/article.asp?ID=6185 (we’re quoted)

http://thepilot.dotphoto.com/CPViewAlbum.asp?AID=5202456&IID=187065154&Page=1

http://thepilot.dotphoto.com/CPViewAlbum.asp?AID=5202456&IID=187065154&Page=1

Making it to 25 years I would have predicted, but it didn’t occur to me that I would be a Catholic. I’m working at Imperia (again – after moving to a few other companies along the way) in the office, planning a Patriots Day weekend get-away for me & Sue, preparing for another softball season (Nikki’s 6th-8th grade town league team), and not currently playing in a band (the recent audition didn’t pan out – yet). I live at home (mine/ours – not Mom’s). I still believe that love and marriage are life-long, and I love the prospects of sharing it all with Sue. I sometimes find it discouraging that time and money are too often too tight to allow the amount of adventuring and exploring I envisioned, but we still manage to squeeze in a bit now and then. Although I never would have planned on seven (and then some) children, and despite the fact that "they" can at times be all consuming (making "us" a nice theory on paper but often a difficult one to actually demonstrate in real life), they are all special and each one brings something to my life that makes it more special. Despite my occasional complaints about the sheer volume of kids, at the same time there is of course not one that I regret or love less. (don’t get me wrong – that doesn’t mean that any given moment on any given day I wouldn’t eagerly trade any one of them straight up for one of their polite friends) Of the many Foster Children who didn’t stay, there were many that I could simultaneously wish they individually did and be glad they collectively didn’t. I assume that I will have to work well beyond retirement age. Last year, Sue finished college (well, she got her 1st degree – although she probably isn’t actually “finished” yet) and with any luck will find a new interesting career – one that will afford us more family time and adventures. None of the kids are likely to be giving us grandchildren in the near future – if I had to venture a guess, no earlier than 3 years away. As our children grow older, Sue and I should be able to start finding more time to adventurously explore more of the world – let’s hope while I still have the strength of body and soundness of mind to do so. At present, I INSIST that I die first (although if I’m still alive once the kids are all independent adults, I might relax that demand).

Next 25 years

I’d be 78 years old (and STILL 8 years older than Sue) which would make me a rarity compared to my male ancestors from both sides of my gene pool. I pray that Sue will still be as giddily in love with me as she was 25 years ago and still is today (if I screw that up, I don’t deserve to live that long anyway). I pray that as more and more kids move on to independence that I more and more rededicate time and attention to Sue. I will probably NOT be in a band at that point (at that point, country-western would be my only viable option and she never really cared for that), but I hope I am still able to play the guitar. I hope we both will be healthy enough to do some mountain climbing between now and then – I really want her to see the view of Baxter Peak from Chimney Pond Cabin and then of Chimney Pond from the Knifes Edge on Mt Katahdin. At 78 I hope I can at least enjoy fall walks in the woods. At 78 I hope I can proudly stand before the Cardinal in some grand cathedral, with my 70 year old trophy wife of 50 years – the continuing love of my life, surrounded by loving children and grandchildren whom we have stayed close to (not TOO close) and been an inspiration to. I promise that I won’t give her a hard time about spending money on a new dress for the occasion, or about calling the Mass a ‘wedding’. If she is willing to hold my hand and publicly and unashamedly repeat those vows to me for a third time, I shall be the happiest and most fortunate old geezer in the world – just like in 1983 and 2008. And – the same as each of those occasions – I will pray that I have been and can continue to be deserving of her adoration.
(some things will never change)

:-( guess I'm too rusty

(email from Richard M)

Hey Don,

Wish I had some good news for you regarding the band position but unfortunately I don't.
We are still looking for someone that's a perfect fit, may take forever I guess.
I want you to know that we were really hoping that you'd be the one for us.
I guess we're looking for someone who could step in and be quickly up to speed with what we were doing.
The best to you and it was really a pleasure meeting and talking with you.
Hope to see you around.

Take care
Richard

Julie is a fascinating child

Julie is applying for acceptance to a week-long summer art program in Colorado. Only current high school juniors are eligible, and tuition is free if she gets accepted. She has to submit a portfolio on CD, which will be judged by a panel looking for real artistic ability. Once all the submissions from across the country are paired down based on demonstrated talent, the panel will then start looking at the candidates personal qualities gleaned from Teacher recommendations and the students own background information. Julie had to submit as part of her background info, a brief essay regarding her "most memorable moment in life". This seems like a difficult task for anybody to tackle - determining which most memorable moment to discuss, and deciding how honest and thorough could one afford to be in describing it. Thankfully, she has never had any huge traumatic experiences or earth shaking coming-of-age drama's, but as I said - Julie IS fascinating. With two days to go before the "postmark by" deadline, she discussed her dilemma with us - she couldn't think of a good "moment" that would intrigue and impress a panel of "Art" people. Then it came to her. This is - in her own words - her moment.
===========================================
History was always an interesting subject to me. As it requires a basic knowledge of important dates, I found ways to remember them early on. Events during the Renaissance in the 1500s were easy to remember, because the Renaissance was a vibrant renewal, and "1500s" is a rather intriguing shade of red. It's color stands out from the other centuries; preceded by the blue 1400s and succeeded by the green 1600s. The zeros, of course, just make the colors stand out more because they are white. One of the reasons I always try to get straight A's is because I like it's pale yellow color better than B's purple/blue. Words and dates just naturally have colors- not necessarily on the page, but in the mind. It's difficult to accurately describe, but it is almost as if as soon as I hear or read the word, its color simultaneously appears as well. I never thought much about it, or paid it much attention (unless I was using the colors to help me study) until last year.
One day, my mother asked, what seemed to me, an innocuous question, "What color is 'o'?" White, obviously, was my reply. "What about 's'?" S is green. General terms, of course, because several letters, and words themselves, are green, but different shades. Then mom said that "s" and "o" don't have colors, they're just letters. To which I said, of course they're letters. Letters are colored. I didn't really understand what mom was talking about, or why she had asked such obvious questions (she might well have asked what color the sky is). But she explained to me that in her psychology class, they had just finished discussing synesthesia- a neurological condition in which stimulation of one sensory leads to automatic and involuntary experiences in a second sensory. I have the most common form, grapheme, where letters and numbers are colored.
This was news to me. I had never heard of synesthesia before; I had just assumed that everyone thought this way, that it was as natural as breathing. It made me try to imagine thinking and reading without color, but honestly to this day I can't fathom it. I did, however, start to notice it more; when a certain word has a particularly interesting color, I realize immediately, not just if I need to notice in order to study. To me, the French verb "mettre" is a really deep purple, and its conjugated forms are slightly different- "mets" is purple/yellowish, "mettons" is more lavender. Synesthesia does help me remember people's name too. I have a really bad memory for names, so when I meet an acquaintance after not seeing them for some time, I find myself thinking, "Oh man, his name was colored like a creamsicle! It must have been Corey." I realize now, as well, that sometimes when I wanted to draw a picture, that I would think of the words that I wanted to describe it as, and use their colors as a basis for the picture's color scheme.
Learning that I have synesthesia was very memorable to me, because it changed the way I think about a variety of things. I never had a reason to think about my thoughts before, but I do a lot more now. I've always loved art, and now I have more ways to approach it, and more ideas and inspirations. At the very least, it's been entertaining to my friends, who want to know what color their names are.

RE: Youch

"Youch"

(That's the sound of 53 yr old me biting my tongue - hard!)
(ya - you know who I'm talking to!)
(damned New Years resolution!)

I hope our tax returns come quickly

http://www.stlucia.org/

It's somebodies birthday tomorrow!!!

HAPPY BIRTHSEASON DARLING!!!!!

(sorry, I don't have Sox opening day tickets)

(nor a puppy, sheep, goat, or "adoptable infant child with no living relatives")

LOVE, ME!

I take full credit !!

Julie finds a piece of charcoal and some patio bricks

and turns it into art

Happy Easter

Now....

Come to Papa!

Sacrifice and Reward

One week to go, and then we can all get back to whatever it was we gave up (if we haven't already!). In our house, the kids who did really good with their Lenten Promise (sacrifice or added task) get a prize on Easter. I have not had a single pastry since Ash Wednesday, but I have not been very good about doing my situps - apparently I am OK with going without, but not good about adding to my list. Julie's history teacher noted at teacher conferences that her attitude seems to have changed and maybe she has adjusted to his teaching style - clueless that she gave up harrassing him for lent, and is apparently doing well with that sacrifice. Joe and Jamie probably don't even remember what their sacrifices were to be (grooming "Champ" daily, and reading the Bible daily - respectively) as they have not performed these added tasks since Ash "Thursday".

So, how have you done with your's? Do you get to reward yourself on Easter morning? I expect that on Easter morning I will have eclairs and a smaller (by 5lbs) but still out-of-shape stomach as the rewards for my efforts (although as Julie so eloquently proclaims "but ROUND is a shape!")

Happy almost Easter! Hang in there!

Hello, Muscatine Iowa!

Now if I only knew who frequently visits from the Mississippi Bend Area Education Agency. The person always starts on Margo's blog, links onto Sue's, and then onto mine - in order.

Assuming it is probably somebody that Margo met through her Youth Ministry travels I asked, but she doesn't know off hand who it might be. Going to the MBAEA website, I find a very long list of employees - which means looking for a familiar name is probably not a wise use of time.

We are honored at having a faithful follower, and it is intriguing to think that somebody who probably doesn't particularly know us somehow found us and keeps coming back to read our stuff. I can only hope that this mystery reader one day posts a comment and leaves a hint as to his/her identity that my site meter is unable to do.

It's fun to wonder - who, where, and why?

HEY! IT WORKED!

within days after theorizing that if I actually offered my own interpretation of the meaning of the song "Helplessly Hoping" then these random viewers who land on my blog while looking for some insight to it might actually READ my blog, two people actually DID!

Talk about the power of suggestion! Strangely, I feel as if I accomplished something.

(Thankfully, nobody left comments about my interpretaion being stupid or anything)

Little Joe’s Big Bad Bruins Adventure

Corey is now 18, living on campus in Boston, and feeling a bit grown up and independent. Well, maybe not completely independent. He did buy me a birthday present (maybe the first time ever in his life without his mother putting money in his hand and driving him to a store) – two tickets for a Bruins hockey game, but of course he assumed that with the second ticket I would invite him, drive, pay for parking, and food. Over the past several years he has developed a love of the sport and was eager to see a game live. The Thursday March 6th 7:00pm game versus Toronto was during his spring break week and wouldn’t interfere with any school priorities. Then he found out that as part of the NEU pep band, he got to go to Virginia to cheer on the NEU basketball team – and he had to back at campus to board the bus by 4:30pm (Thursday March 6th). Oops – so much for Corey’s Big Bad Bruins Adventure.

Thinking quickly, he decided that having already spent the money for the second ticket he could claim it as an early birthday present to Joe (therefore not having to spend future money on him while still claiming to have been generous to him).

So Friday through Wednesday Corey filled Joe with stories of Zdano Chara et al – watched games on TV and viewed YouTube clippings of various hockey fights. Joe was ready!

Tim and Corey got Joe out of school early and drove to meet me at work. Corey, Joe and I continued on to the city, dropped off Corey on campus, and met up with Mary in Copley Square. She usually takes the subway to North Station and the train to Billerica, but she joined us for the ride and we killed a little time exploring around Causeway St. Then Joe wanted to look in the Pro Shop – he has his mind set a getting a “Chara” jersey. For $180 he could have gotten one that would have been big on ME, but none were to be found in anything even close to his small size. Bergeron, Kessel, Thomas, Savard – none of them interested him because he didn’t know who they were (apparently Corey didn’t do a very thorough job teaching Joe all about the B’s). Jackets – no. Sweatshirts – no. Hats, foam fingers, B’s pajama’s – no, no, and no. Mary offered to chip in for anything up to $60 – no. Chara or nothing was pretty much Joe’s mood. We did find a Chara poster for $6 that I said I would get for him after the game, which cheered him up slightly. After a McDonalds meal and seeing Mary off onto her train, we headed up into the stadium – Joe’s first ever major sporting event. I explained to Joe that the seats would be up in the “nose-bleed” section, the balcony. He was concerned that people really got nose-bleeds there. Being amongst the first fans to enter, we walked the whole upper concourse and then went to find our seat. Balcony, section 306, row 15 is as high up as you can get – top row, back against the stadium wall, very steep steps to get there and poor Joe worried that if his shoelace became undone and he tripped it was going to be a long and painful fall. Still over half an hour until game time, we acclimated to the view and then went back to the concourse – me for popcorn and Joe still hoping to find his prized Chara shirt. Thankfully, even at the !! 50% OFF ALL BRUINS MERCHANDISE !! kiosk there were none to be found. They did have a cute little yellow huggy monkee with the Velcro hands and a Bruins “B” on it for $6.50, which Joe attached around his neck for the entire game.

The game started well with the B’s scoring first, but people standing up blocked Joes. He also noted how lots of people use bad words, two big smelly guys kept going past us with beer, Toronto scored eight unanswered goals, the concession stands didn’t have Root Beer and Chara didn’t fight anybody. Joe commented how “it apparently isn’t the Bruins night tonight”. We called Corey half way through the second period (he was on the bus headed to Virginia) so Joe could let him know how it was going. Joe told him to “next time get us tickets to a better game”. Into the 3rd period as the score was getting more lopsided I told Joe that if he was tired or bored we could leave early and beat the rush, but he insisted that he was having fun and wanted to stay to the end. That meant he got to see a fight (not Chara) and the B’s final goal with 34 second left. As we were leaving he headed straight for the pro shop and grabbed his promised poster and started wondering where to hang it in his room. At 10:20pm (hours past his normal bedtime) Joe called Mom (who would be in the van on her way TO work) to tell her all about it.
“Ya, it was fun. Ya, I’m tired. No I didn’t get a shirt or a coat. Goodnight Mom.”

Two tickets to professional hockey game = free
Parking at North Station = $30
McDonalds for two at North Station = $11
Poster, monkee, popcorn, twizzlers and a coke = $25
Bringing a son to his first professional sporting event = priceless

More Site Meter fun - or - Helplessly Hoping song meaning

Besides the "Dark Town" searches that direct 100's of people from around the world to my other blog, this blog receives many hits from people looking for song lyrics and meanings (I use lots of lyrics to supplement or set the mood for my thoughts.

Apparently many folks want to understand the meaning of the Stephan Stills / CSN song "Helplessly Hoping". So, along with finding the http://www.songmeanings.net/ site, they also find my blog near the top of the search results. Sadly, they only are "on" my blog for zero seconds and then leave. Maybe if I actually offer my theory regarding the meaning of these lyrics, they will stay and be impressed.

= = = = = = =
Helplessly hoping her harlequin (the guy) hovers nearby
Awaiting a word (some indication from her about their prospects together)
Gasping at glimpses of gentle true spirit (with wonder, he see’s her appealing qualities)
he runs, Wishing he could fly (spirit being typically viewed as an air-borne quality, maybe he could catch her if he could fly)
Only to trip at the sound of goodbye (which certainly takes the wind out of his sails)
Wordlessly watching he waits by the window (he can see her, is separated from her, and knows not how to express himself)
and wonders At the empty place inside (loneliness and yearning inside himself)
Heartlessly helping himself to her bad dreams (maybe if he could take her troubles away things would be different)
he worries Did he hear a good-bye? Or even hello? (now he doesn’t know if he missed a cue from her or not)
They are one person (they have the same dreams and fears – they are one & the same)
They are two alone (they are both separated from each other)
They are three together (if they were 2 people together in love, then God becomes present and therefore = 3)
They are for each other (at least in his mind - and a neat poetic way to complete the literary cycle)

Stand by the stairway you'll see something certain to tell you Confusion has its cost
Love isn't lying it's loose in a lady who lingers (he feels it, he can see it in her, and she hasn’t actually turned him away yet)
Saying she is lost (she is stalling, offering excuses)
And choking on hello (and can’t bring herself to risk it and say yes to him)

= = = = = =

Now I'm not saying that I actually know what was in Mr. Stills head as he wrote this song. Maybe he simply stumbled across a phrase that he liked, and proceeded to assemble as many alliterations as possible into a story - never giving any thought to it all having "a meaning". This is simply my own version of what the song says to me. In many ways, I AM "her harlequin". I have lived this song. I'm sure it speaks differently to other people. Maybe instead of people searching for the meaning, they should simply create their own.

Happy Birthday to me, I'm now 53

(sorry - this is the youngest baby picture I have of me)

How Much things cost in 1955

- Average Cost of new house ==== $10.950.00
- Average Monthly Rent ==== $87.00
- Average Yearly Wages ==== $4.130.00
- Minumum Hourly Rate ==== $1.00
- Average Cost of a new car ==== $1,900.00
- Cost of a gallon of Gas ==== 23 cents
- Black and White TV ==== $99.95

Popular Culture 1955
- Ray Kroc starts the McDonald's fast food restaurant chain.
- First riot at an Elvis Presley concert takes place in Jacksonville, FL
- James Dean’s stars in the movie East of Eden
- James Dean killed in car accident near Cholame, California

Popular Films
- Oklahoma
- The Quatermass Xperiment
- Rebel without a Cause
- To Catch A Thief
- The seven year itch

Popular Singers
- Elvis Presley
- Bill Haley and the Comets
- Chuck Berry
- Fats Domino.
- The Platters

What Events Happened in 1955
· US military intervention in Iran
· Hurricane Diane hits the northeast United States, killing 200 and causing over $1 billion in damage
· Disneyland opens in California
· 52 Die in a disaster at 24hr Le Mans Race
· African American Rosa Parks is arrested after refusing to give up her bus seat to a white person in Montgomery Alabama

Technology 1955
· First pocket transistor radios available
· Fish Fingers are marketed by Bird's Eye
· The first Atomically generated power is used in the US

I share my birthday today with my brother David, Step-father Henry, and the guy who is the voice of the AFLAC duck.

Exercising my patience - OR - stupid department stores

Happy Birthday me!
Sue and I were wishing we could afford to rejoin the Y, but alas it is beyond our current reach. Sue thought that getting a home gym machine would be a great birthday present. We had seen a neat one at Walmart a while ago but it had no price on it. When we EVENTUALLY found a clerk willing to speak to us, he too couldn’t find the pricing and said we needed to come back during the day when a department manager could help us. Well yesterday, Sue was there – and a price was listed on it ($189.99) and it seemed like a good deal. After I got home from work, we all went back to WalMart to purchase it. Again, we have to seek out someone to help us. The first clerk we found couldn’t but went to find somebody who could. Three times he returned to apologize and say it should just be a few more minutes. A lady came, scanned the price tag/bar code, and told us that two were on order and should be in within 14 days or less. No, they were not ordered for somebody else – no, we could not reserve one – we could check in later. After pushing lots of buttons on her scanner, she informed us that Braintree and Weymouth had them in stock. Because Julie and friend had to be picked up in an hour, we had to pass. After returning home, we search for the specific machine online to see who else might carry it (and compare pricing). Apparently, that particular unit is proprietary to Walmart as nobody else in the free world carries it. BUT – Kmart has a similar but clearly superior unit by a different manufacturer at 30% off ($195.00) and Brockton has them in stock. Because they close at 10 and it was already after 9, I decided to wait until today – I could zip over there on my lunch break.
And I did - $200 cash in hand – walked in, found the machine, didn’t find a clerk (way too heavy for a carriage and one person to lift), found the service desk, asked for help, waited for help, waited as she paged again, waited some more, met the clerk who said he’d meet me back in sporting goods as soon as he finished helping the other two customers ahead of me, waited, waited, waited until I was 45 minutes into my ½ hour lunch break. (starting to sound a bit like the “Alice’s Restaurant” song) And I left – without the machine. But we want it. Sue and I will certainly get good use out of it, the little kids will initially be intrigued enough to use it at first, Julie can work out prior to Discus competition season. The 30% off sale ends March 1st so I guess I’ll try one more time. Why doesn’t anybody want my $200 dollars? If I could I would get it and move it myself, except – if I could, I wouldn’t need the machine in the first place!

Ruth McDonnell

Ruthie McDonnell - upper left in photo

In 1979 the Hanson Girls Softball 13-17 yr old team had a 6-8 record playing in the North River Girls Fastpitch Softball League. I was the head coach of this wild and crazy and diverse collection of teenage softball players. Many of the girls had unmistakable and strong personalities of various types. Some were shy or quiet and just sort of blended in without being particularly noteworthy, which is how I had tended to be as a teenager and young adult. But after getting talked into helping coach this team, and then becoming the head coach – I was forced to learn to interact in a more vocal and demonstrative way. These girls were the best thing to happen to me at that point in my life.

One of the best players and strongest personalities on any of the teams I coached over eight years was “Ruthie”. She was a big strong girl who could hit for power, had a cannon of an arm, and would gladly run over the opposing catcher if she tried to block home plate. AND, she would laugh about it the whole way – as if to say “I can’t believe you thought you were going to stop me”. In any moment of competition, Ruthie had a determined scowl which instantly gave way to a proud and beaming smile. She LOVED doing her job well. As a shortstop, she would throw so hard to first base that Nancy (our 1st baseman) would complain that she was throwing too hard. Ruthie hated pitching because she couldn’t throw as hard underhand as she could overhand. What she excelled at was being the catcher.
Stereotypically big and slow moving, and happily bossy, Ruthie at 16 and 17 years old was the field general. She would pump up the pitcher, wake up the infielders, joke with the umpire and batter, and let me know that I wasn’t really needed here – she had it all under control. Our pitchers quickly learned that their own head was directly in the line of fire when Ruthie tried to throw a runner out stealing second base. She would sternly remind them of that fact and warn them to be ready to duck – not to save their own lives, but so their head wouldn’t interfere with her throw. This public and confident announcement was sometimes enough to convince a baserunner NOT to try stealing second. On plays at home plate, she KNEW she had a size advantage over most girls and would practically DARE anyone to try to run through her to score. She knew she was big and strong and relished in being able to take advantage of her “physical talent”.

At bat she was fearless and always grinned at the opposing pitcher – her way of trying to psych out the opponent, no matter how fast the girl could pitch. In batting practice, she was murder. When Ruthie stepped into the batters box, most of our own pitchers were too scared (or too smart) to pitch to her, and because we didn’t have many girls who threw real fastballs (but many of the opponents did) I would throw a lot of batting practice so our own batters could practice hitting against speed. Ruthie had an uncanny knack of hitting line drives back through the pitchers circle – anywhere from head high to “just-below-belt-high”. She would have me ducking and leaping throughout her whole BP session, with the rest of the team laughing at my predicament and rooting her on. Every body loved Ruthie – you couldn’t help it, unless you were on the other team. She learned that her power zone was hitting towards right-center field, and that most teams weakest players were in right field. She needed to hit the ball into that gap, because Ruthie didn’t particularly run around the bases – she thundered around them. Team-mates good naturedly complained about earthquakes and thunder, and joked about the 3rd baseman running for cover as she huffed and puffed into 3rd base. She just smiled and laughed with them. Playing down in Plympton, the opposing star player was also their catcher. Ruthie was on 2nd base and a ball was hit to the outfield. She rounded 3rd and headed for home –ready for a close play. The throw was high causing the catcher to leap. Ruthie – not one to be polite or to avoid a collision - went low and took the girls legs out from under her, and they landed in a heap. The umpire called “Safe”, the catcher got up looking for a fight, but Ruthie just casually got up and triumphantly walked away – beaming as always, and to a chorus of cheering from her impressed team-mates.

That was Ruthie in all of her glory. Never to be a prom queen, she held court on 95 degree hot July afternoons, full catchers gear on, dirty, sweaty, and personally victorious no matter what the final score was. She was the hero of all the pretty girls who wished they were “ballplayers”, the shy girls who wished they were outgoing, and any other girl who simply marveled at the person who was “Ruthie”. She was a joy to coach.

The reason this story is on my “current events” blog instead of my “growing up a long time ago” blog?

Ruthie McDonnell – now 45 years old - passed away this weekend after succumbing to cancer. Apparently, her adult life was not easy and she did not fare as well against real life’s opponents off the playing field.

Although I have not seen her since the early 1980’s, I feel somewhat like a father who has lost a child. In my minds eye, she will always be 17, laughing, wearing her Hanson Girls Softball shirt, ready to drill a line drive at my head, and telling Sue that she has that one more strike in her that she needs to get this batter out.

I think I will make a recommendation to the Hanson Recreation Committee to rename the LZ Thomas School softball field to the Ruth McDonnell Memorial Field. It would be a fitting honor.

..the 123 page book Meme.

Here are the rules:
1. Pick up the nearest book ( of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people.

=======================

Musicophilia by Oliver Sacks
page 123 sentences 6,7,8

Transposing a piece of music, for someone with absolute pitch, can be analogous to painting a picture with all the wrong colors. Another difficulty was mentioned to me by the neurologist and musician Steven Frucht, who himself has absolute pitch. He sometimes experiences a certain difficulty in hearing intervals or harmonies because he is so conciouse of the chroma of the notes that compose them.

======================

sorry, I have nobody to tag
(they've all be taken)

I would be curious to know what revelations this Meme suggests.
Why the 123rd page?
Why the 6th, 7th & 8th sentences?
Why 5 people? Why not 4 or 6?

Most Meme's are designed to offer insight to the person
(Fav color, cola, music, movie, etc...)
I don't understand how lines 6,7,& 8 of page 123 offer any psycological insight to me.

Dark Thoughts (part 2)

Still loving my site meter.
Still getting LOT's (literally dozens - check it yourself - go to the bottom of this page and click on the Site Meter box) of europeans searching for "dark dark town dark dark street" (it's a little freaky), lot's of americans searching for "helplessly hoping" and "I was born in the sign of water" meanings, and now I know that somebody in Manchester NH is looking for my cousin Joanne (or at least somebody with her same maiden name). I wonder if I should tell her?

I'm officially old (as if I wasn't already!)

My baby is 17! Almost too hard to comprehend.
Happy Birthday "Jubee"