Returns and Some More Uncoiling

I awoke yesterday with the daunting task of abandoning my home town and the company of Keene Friend and Cantankerous Friend. While I was more than satisfied with the amount of time and conversation both of them were gracious enough to send my way I never want to let go of times like this. They can’t become fond memories if you refuse to let them end. Unfortunately life intrudes with its onward march. We did get together for breakfast before we went our separate ways and reconstructed some of the events from late Saturday night, a task fraught with peril for yours truly.

Panamanians in Maine

Buddy exacted his obligatory walk around town from the Keene Friend, something he’s come to expect and will not calm down until leashed. Part of my reticence about leaving was the knowledge I was heading home to an empty house as the Panamanians continued their depredations in the Great White North. Buddy took up position with his nose into the wind, never expecting a bath was waiting him at home. When the house is empty I try and keep busy with chores, Buddy’s unwelcome dousing was part of that effort.

PanaGals in the Great White North

My Wife Between a PanaGal and the Next Door Mafioso

The Panamanian called in the early afternoon to report they had escaped from Maine ahead of the usual Sunday traffic and were only a few miles away. They had chosen to take a rest room break at a local mall (method to that I’m sure). Six hours later they finally wandered in, exhausted from their own fun weekend running around Northern Maine with the Maine Musquetera. I received a breathless, blow by blow account of their adventures from my favorite Panamanian. I semi-listened, just enjoying the company as this tiny person once again filled up my life.

At The Table with the Maine Musquetera

It has been a bad week in the shuffling of the mortal coil department. We lost not only the Cantankerous One’s mom but noted authors Oliver Sacks and Wayne Dyer, horror filmmaker Wes Craven, and I learned this morning one of the most prominent personalities of my high school class as well. We were in the same home room throughout high school. I hadn’t seen her in nearly forty years until a class reunion a few years back and she was truly the life of the party. Her quick wit and brash spirit even backed the Cantankerous One up at times. She’ll be missed.

R.I.P.
Gone Too Soon

Cantankerous Redux

I awoke yesterday with the sole mission of linking up with the Cantankerous One to hang out. He already had a full dance card with his father in ICU and another friend squiring him around for lunch. That left Keene Friend and I with some open time which we ably filled along with our digestive system with a trip to 5 Guys, the sun center of burgerdom. Since there was a handy movie theater nearby I told Keene Friend he had to see the latest Mission Impossible movie which is currently in contention for best movie I’ve seen this summer. I was more than ready to renew the pleasant experience of Ethan’s Hunt’s latest adventures, especially with the female lead actress. We then rectified a long standing hole in our own normal Saturday dance card – a visit to the Elm City Brewery. Our favorite Keene area bar tendress called us out on our long absence as soon as we arrived. We offered our profound apologies for our long neglect and made a game try at reducing the levels of Keene Kolsch available.

Keene Friend at Elm City Yesterday with our Favorite Keene Bartender

We displaced to the Scores after learning of the impending availability of the Cantankerous Friend. Our normal table was available and soon we were together subject to the return of the Cantankerous One’s special brand of “humor”. He’s bearing up well after the very tough week he’s undergone and the very good news that his dad will be moved out of ICU shortly. We experienced a kind of scary moment when a new bartender showed up. From a distance she looked a 1980s movie star complete with the tall hair and plunging neck line. Then she walked up close. It was obvious that a great deal of surgery and makeup had contributed to the distant illusion. She was much closer to our own age and while a very nice lady but I couldn’t escape the fear that a strong breath of wind would cause her to shatter. It must be tough to compete for tips in a college town, just sayin.

Cantankerous Friend Joined us at Scores

We took our repartee across the street to Margarita’s for dinner in the outdoor café. Apparently my adult beverage intake caused me to be less than understanding of our Islamic “friends’” failings and the ever present champion of the left, one each Cantankerous Friend, leaped to the defense of the poor misunderstood followers of the prophet. Even I have to admit my solutions may have been a bit outlandish but I’d just spent a great afternoon surrounded by good friends, Keene, and of course a couple beers. 

Dinner at Margarita's - Cantankerous Late with his Signature Antennae Move

Friday Returns

Abandoned once again by my ever travelling wife and her accomplices, the latest version of the PanaGals, I took the opportunity to sneak back home to Keene. The Panamanian contingent was heading up into the wilds to linkup with the Maine Musquetera for the weekend, I'm sure shopping will be involved at some point.

After a quick ceremony to mark the First Friday of the Week I stuck the Wonder Pooch in the car and headed north. He really likes it when we take my car because he gets to stick his snout into the wind. I came up to Keene on Friday to hopefully hang out with the Cantankerous Friend, who's had a very tough week - see yesterday's post. He was decisively engaged early in the evening with family obligations so Keene Friend and I descended on downtown Keene in search of pizza and beer. We ended up in Athens Pizza which had plenty of seating despite a monster traffic jam at the front counter.  After pizza and watching the newly arrived college crowd in their lemming like wanderings around the center of town it was back to Keene Friend's house for the Patriot's game.
Buddy did his usual job of barking at virtually every small noise he heard. There was more than enough of that since Keene Friend lives in a house near campus and is surrounded by houses stuffed with students. After barking at every mosquito brushing up against the window he was completely quiet when the Cantankerous One showed up and knocked on the door. I don't think Buddy has a future as a guard dog, just a drama queen.

The Cantankerous One joined us for the game and brought us up to speed on his week. He seemed genuinely surprised by all the thoughts and prayers sent his way. Despite his acerbic wit people do see beyond that, at least most do. He seemed more like himself as the shock has had more time to settle. He even launched a couple of his trademark zingers towards the Keene Friend and I, normalcy was returning. We hope to get together again today.

This Made it Feel Better

The Patriots looked rusty, especially a certain quarterback and the bend don't break defense is back which means teams will march up and down the field on them again. We switched back and forth with the  Red Sox game which involved the wrong Japanese closer. Tazawa invents new ways to raise blood pressure each time he's called upon to close. Luckily even he couldn't blow a three run lead in the 10th despite walking four players in a row, who does that! I went to sleep listening to the mating dance conversations outside by the massed college students, maybe I can get Buddy barking real early some morning to re-pay their considerate behavior.

Scary Dude

Loop Knocking

I was knocked for a bit of a loop yesterday when I opened Facebook for my daily descent into the mundane, fascinating, and sometimes disturbing lives of my friends. The Cantankerous One has been noticeably absent from his usual hectoring and I knew it was in part due to the amount of time he was spending caring for his parents. Yesterday he returned with the sad message that his mother had passed away the previous day, peacefully surrounded by her family. He wrote a simple but profoundly eloquent message announcing the news.

“Over the years I have read many heartwarming tributes to many of your parents when their work on earth had been completed and they were called home. With each tribute I have felt the pain of your loss, as well your comfort in knowing they were now in a better place. As I read your tributes it was always with the uneasy knowledge that soon it would be my turn to do the same. Well, today, 8/26/2015 happens to be that day. Today, my mother passed away surrounded by family following a brief period of declining health. Mom was 82, she was dedicated to her family and always placed the needs of others ahead of her own. Her family has many fond memories to comfort them as they attempt to smile in celebrating her life. Mom's work is done, and her spirit is free to ride the four winds no longer constrained by a failing body. Mom, we will carry those memories in our hearts forever as we continue to honor a life well lived. Rest peacefully Mom and know you will be missed, but never forgotten.”

I was surprised because she had seemed in better health than his father but life doesn’t always follow predictable paths. I immediately called my Cantankerous Friend and had a long conversation. He said while he knew this day was coming based on their age and infirmities, nothing ever really prepares you. I told him he should be proud of the devotion he’s demonstrated over the past few years. He accomplished what I failed to do. I wanted to get back to New England after my military career to help out my own mother as her health deteriorated. Life stepped in with another of those tangential moves and she passed away two years before I hung up the uniform. I’m driving up to Keene for the weekend and hope we get a chance to hang out because I found being with friends is the best medicine for times like this.

My Dedicated Friend is Hurting Today

The Cantankerous One lives and works near the seacoast region since his retirement from the Navy but every weekend since he’s retired he’s journeyed back to Keene to assist his parents. He’s sacrificed his own personal time to make sure they had everything they needed. While he can be a bit caustic at times I’ve always said he has a heart of gold beneath all the buster. There is no better evidence of that quality than the dedicated care he’s provided over the past few years.

It feels like yet another icon of my childhood has passed into the mists with his mom’s passing. There was a brief golden age of my family life when we moved into the Cantankerous One’s neighborhood when I was 8 years old. My parents seemed to be happily married and soon became good friends with his parents, including shared vacations by the two families to York Beach, Maine for several years. While my parents split up rather spectacularly I knew there would always be a kind word or gesture waiting for me when I visited the home of the Cantankerous One. His mom never failed to ask how I was doing and the clearest memory I have of her is that never failing feeling of welcome whenever I walked in. She dedicated a good portion of her life working for the Red Cross in Keene which will tell you even more about her character. We hadn’t talked in a long time other than brief phone conversations when I was trying to track down her elusive son but hearing her voice always brought back memories of childhood welcome. She even drove the Cantankerous One to last year’s birthday pub crawl and occasionally objected to the poetic license I used to describe her son’s personality in this blog.

I’m going to miss that voice when I call now. While I exist on the distant periphery of his family’s life, I know they’re all hurting and wish them whatever comfort the heartfelt wishes coming their way from the many lives their mother touched with, as my friend so articulately stated “a life well lived”

Ultra PanaGirl Return and Forgotten Hero

PanaGals on the Tour Bus

My wife, the next door Mafioso, and the PanaGals completed their two day rampage through the Big Apple despite my wife’s ongoing battle with the nasty cold I was considerate enough to pass on to her. I was semi-informed of their headlong track around the island of Manhattan. The fact they ate lunch around 5pm was an indicator of the activity level.

They Found a Panamanian Flag In NYC

The ladies flocked home exhausted from their effort with a lot more luggage than they left with. I’m told NYC’s Chinatown may never be the same again after this Panamanian invasion and shopping acuity. My wife was understandably exhausted and reported only one issue with her navigation down and back. She tried to use one of my short cuts but was distracted when a critical turn came up. Anyone who knows her can guess the distraction involved “talking”. This wasn’t the first and won’t be the last time this happens to her but she was able to show the PanaGals parts of Hartford Connecticut that are well off the beaten path. The PanaGals were excited and so grateful at achieving their dream of touring New York City. My wife and the Next Door Mafioso did right by them.

And St Paul's Cathedral

Since I was at loose ends once again I took in an early movie, going to see American Ultra. It’s an action comedy which had liberal doses of both. Jesse Eisenberg plays a stoned out loser in West Virginia who also happens to be a deadly secret agent that Eric Forman and Boyd Crowder are trying to kill. Coach Taylor’s wife comes to the rescue in time to semi-activate Eisenberg from his sleeper state and hijinks ensue.

It was nice to see Kristen Stewart leave her Bella state of perpetual pout and truly engage as the girlfriend with real on screen chemistry with Eisenberg. This could have been something really special if they played up the comedy a little more but they got sucked into too much time with the bad guys instead of the Eisenberg-Stewart pairing. All in all though, a lot better than you’ve probably heard with some laugh out loud moments as Eisenberg keeps accidently killing highly trained assassins.

A friend posted the following essay on an American hero who’s been denied his rightful place in the conversation about that select group. The essay was an attempt to correct the lack of recognition that could be classified as a crime. Please meet, Eugene Jacques Bullard, American hero:

During WW1

Do you know who this is a photo of? Chances are you don’t, but don’t feel bad because probably not one American in one million does, and that is a national tragedy. His name is Eugene Jacques Bullard, and he is the first African-American fighter pilot in history. But he is also much more than that: He’s also a national hero, and his story is so incredible that I bet if you wrote a movie script based on it Hollywood would reject it as being too far-fetched.

Bullard was an expat living in France, and when World War 1 broke out he joined the French Infantry. He was seriously wounded, and France awarded him the Croix de Guerre and Medaille Militaire. In 1916 he joined the French air service and he first trained as a gunner but later he trained as a pilot. When American pilots volunteered to help France and formed the famous Lafayette Escadrille, he asked to join but by the time he became a qualified pilot they were no longer accepting new recruits, so he joined the Lafayette Flying Corps instead. He served with French flying units and he completed 20 combat missions. When the United States finally joined the war, Bullard was the only member of the Escadrille or the French Flying Corps who was NOT invited to join the US Air Service. The reason? At that time the Air Service only accepted white men.

Now here is the part that almost sounds like a sequel to ‘Casablanca’: After WWI Bullard became a jazz musician in Paris and he eventually owned a nightclub called ‘L’Escadrille’. When the Germans invaded France and conquered it in WW2, his Club, and Bullard, became hugely popular with German officers, but what they DIDN’T know was that Bullard, who spoke fluent German, was actually working for the Free French as a spy. He eventually joined a French infantry unit, but he was badly wounded and had to leave the service. By the end of the war, Bullard had become a national hero in France, but he later moved back to the U.S. where he was of course completely unknown. Practically no one in the United States was aware of it when, in 1959, the French government named him a national Chevalier, or Knight.

In 1960, the President of France, Charles DeGaulle, paid a state visit to the United States and when he arrived he said that one of the first things he wanted to do was to meet Bullard. That sent the White House staff scrambling because most of them, of course, had never even heard of him. They finally located him in New York City, and DeGaulle traveled there to meet him personally. At the time, Eugene Bullard was working as … An elevator operator. Not long after Eugene Bullard met with the President of France, he passed away, and today very, very few Americans, and especially African-Americans, even know who he is. But, now YOU do, don’t you? And I hope you’ll be able to find opportunities to tell other people about this great American hero that probably only 1 American in 1 Million has ever heard of.

Bullard in his Later Years

Solitariness & Assassins

It was a little disconcerting to have the house empty out as dramatically as it did yesterday. My wife, the PanaGals, and the next door Mafioso all headed out for an overnight trip to New York City. This was one of the visiting PanaGals’ largest lifelong dreams. It did result in a decibel free house for the first time since we moved in which I found a little confounding. Buddy did his part in being entertaining but I missed the almost non-stop chatter that has become the norm since the PanaGals arrived a couple weeks ago.

PanaGals Loose in New York

They didn’t waste any time upon arriving in the Big Apple. As soon as they got into their hotel my wife called me in the office and asked for directions to Macy’s, since she’d forgotten a planned shirt. I’m not sure how that happened (although I have my suspicions) since she spent the normal three days packing for the trip. They were going to attempt a linkup with my daughter who’s in New York for the week but this fell victim to the shopping craze and the attendant failure to monitor cell phone messages.

Seems Like an Old Friend is Moving Away

In a season where the Red Sox are attempting to set new records for futility they apparently have a need to see how low a nadir they can obtain. Yesterday it leaked out that they were firing their long time TV announcer, Don Orsillo, at the end of the season. This reeks of total disassociation from the fan base who idolize Orsillo. He truly was the voice of the Red Sox during their most successful era, the last two years notwithstanding. I always thought the only way he would leave would be for a national network type job because he was that good. Whenever I see other announcer, including many of the national level guys, they fall short of his professionalism. This year he was practicably the only thing worth tuning into a Sox game for. Shame, shame on whoever made this decision.

I used my dateless date night to see the movie Hitman: Agent 47 since there was no need to address delicate sensibilities. I guess this is based on a popular video game of which I am blissfully unaware, a signature difference between baby boomers and millennials. Since this movie was about a bio-engineered super assassin there was the attendant carnage but it was practically bloodless, despite the state of the art CGI splatters.

I liked the two lead actors, especially the title character. He was supposed to be an emotionless automaton but he was a good enough actor to add a bit of character which made him likable. Young Spock showed up to suck up bullets and knife thrusts in true Hero fashion. Despite the body count, this was harmless fun and I enjoyed the ride. Just check your need for a greater meaning at the door.

Since I lacked proper supervision at home I stayed up way after midnight watching (you guessed it) another movie. I own over a thousand movies but can never decide which one to watch. I tried a new technique last night where I don’t turn on the lights and just touch a movie on a random shelf. I ended up back in a post-apocalyptic world with Denzel in The Book of Eli. After this trip, since I was already up and now only five minutes away I decided to check up on the workman’s comp people I have working light duty on the 11-7 shift. I’m guessing they were surprised to see me at half past midnight, especially the guy I found asleep on the couch.

Finally the Wingman sent some more pictures of his trip to the Shire in New Zealand. I’m jealous on a level only another true geek could possibly understand. 

Questing in the Shire

Monday brought its usual cacophony of misery, compounded with a persistent cold to add to the atmosphere. My efforts to avoid being a carrier also failed as my wife started complaining about the same type symptoms that I experienced Saturday night when the damned thing fist manifested. It was, in other words, a fairly typical Monday.

Old Friends Coming to Life

I did receive some interesting news on the pop culture front. A couple years ago I wrote a blog post about my favorite TV shows from my youth in the 1960s. One of those shows was Jonny Quest. It was an animated series that only ran for one year 1964-1965 but it left an indelible mark upon a very impressionable young version of myself. Apparently I wasn’t the only one because yesterday I learned they are going to make a feature live film about Jonny Quest and it will be “edgy”. They also put one of my favorite directors, Robert Rodriguez, of Sin City fame, at the helm, so good news. I can’t wait to see what Dr. Benton Quest, "Race" Bannon, Hadji, and of course Bandit have been up to.

Wingman at Bag End

I’ve been alluding to the travels of Wingman to the land down under. His band is touring New Zealand and Australia for a  couple weeks. Fellow geek that he is wasted no time in paying homage to our shared fascination with the Lord of the Rings movies. I received these pictures today showing him visiting the Shire, Hobbiton, Bag End, and Bagshot Row. I believe the expression is, “too cool for school”.

Bagshot Row

And Hobbiton

I was finally able to get back to my march through Lawrence Block’s excellent Matthew Scudder novels, finishing off A Stab in the Dark yesterday. This novel was written a few years after the first bunch and Scudder has definitely evolved. The alcohol intake which was kind of a background aspect to his character in the first few novels takes a much bigger stage here. Scudder is forced to consider that his drinking may be more of a problem than he’s willing to admit.

He’s called upon to solve a brutal murder than took place nine years earlier. It was supposed to be part of a serial murderer’s rampage but when he’s caught the murderer adamantly refuses to take credit for this one killing. Scudder becomes the tarnished knight heading into battle championing the murder victim where everybody else wants to let the past sleep. He does most of his work completely soused on his signature bourbon. The wreckage he leaves in his wake exposes the illusions of modern life the people involved did not want to own. Reading these novels is as addictive as Scudder’s drinking habits – impossible to put down.

Nutmeg Byways and Big Apple Sadness

The good times eventually have to be paid for. I think that’s some sort of cosmic rule or something. The bill was presented yesterday for the prior two days. I had to relinquish the company of the Cali-Daughter and the future first blog reader. The icing on the proverbial cake was waking up at 4am with the onset of a fairly nasty cold that I had been successfully ignoring the warning signs of. This combined for a definite down day. I’m just hoping I don’t play Typhoid Mary to all those who were in the car with me yesterday.

Since Wingman was not around, having successfully deployed to the Shire, there was no way I was putting my seven month pregnant daughter on a mere train to New York City. I promised to drive her straight to the Park Avenue hotel where her company is putting her up for the week long business trip. News flash – a lot of people are also out driving on Sunday afternoons. I mean, a huge amount, especially in the traffic wasteland known as Connecticut with all too many being from New Jersey and all that entails.

My wife and the two PanaGals volunteered to accompany us which meant a constant stream of conversation and laughter emanating from the back seat for the trip to New York. My daughter took up her role as co-pilot which was critical. As with most people from her generation she was wired into all the navigational apps, including one that reported upcoming speed traps. She had us dancing around the inevitable traffic jams that Connecticut is justifiably infamous for. Since she learned I-95 was backed up near New Haven she directed me onto the Merritt Parkway only to discover an accident twenty miles ahead. Not to be deterred she had me soon traversing the back roads ending up in a town called Derby and then back to I-95, beyond the traffic jam. A comment on just how connected the world has become, while wending through these back roads she received a message from Wingman reporting his arrival in Sydney, Australia enroute to New Zealand. 

Whenever we did run into traffic (remember this is Connecticut) she would check her apps and say it was a minor hold up versus anything that needed to be bypassed. She had three different route options into Manhattan and then watched as two were eliminated due to accidents. The third worked like a charm (although the FDR is not for the faint of heart) and all too soon we were pulling up to her hotel, less than three hours after leaving Worcester. While I have all too much experience saying good bye to my daughter this time was especially hard. She’s going to be a lot skinnier the next time I see her and it’s tough having her so far away for such a momentous undertaking. I’m sure she’ll handle it like the champ she is.

My Two Co-Pilots Saying Goodbye Yesterday in NYC

I was understandably concerned about the transition of co-pilot role to my less than tech savvy wife. While my wife has embraced technology, especially when shopping is involved, she has a well-known predilection for going to war with the GPS system. My daughter preloaded her navigation app onto my wife’s phone and wished us luck. To say my wife rose to the occasion would be a massive understatement. She had us out of the Big Apple and dodging through the Connecticut countryside in short order. We used the Merritt Parkway the whole way this time and saw the carnage on the other side that our daughter had maneuvered us around in the trip down. We were back into Massachusetts and a very late dinner at Cracker Barrel in under three hours again. My wife even consented, after a bit of discussion, to forego the inevitable shopping opportunities Cracker Barrel customers are confronted with. I think she took pity on my rapidly dissolving health.

Showered and Completed

Proud Gramma to be With New House Rules

I’m going to try and capture some of the fun and adventure yesterday. I will fail completely to fully describe how much fun we had. My wife’s planned baby shower ran into a few arrival glitches as the town of Holden had their annual town festival at the same time. This led to a detour that changed the 10 minute drive to 45 minutes. Keene Friend, Favorite Son, and I were preparing to go out pub crawling for the shower duration when I received a frantic phone call from my wife declaring she was lost and that I needed to help her.

Cali-Daughter and ABFA Just Before their Rescue Mission

Maine Musquetera Who Created all the Pastries

Daughetr in Conversation with Fellow Curbside Gal Who Came up from NYC

I was a little dumbfounded at how I was going to accomplish that from my distant location. I asked the obvious question – where she was located? Luckily the ABFA, in full rescue mode, arrived on the scene along with the Cali-Daughter and they guided the frantic Panamanian to the shower site. By all reports the shower was a distinct amount of fun as the female side of the family and friends showed up to celebrate with us. This is one of the very coolest things about being back in New England – there’s actually family around to accomplish gatherings like this.

My Sister With the Cousin Contingent

Daughter and a Couple of Rhode Islanders

The Two Stars of the Show

Meanwhile the male element, now joined by my excellent boss, headed into Worcester for a mini-pub crawl. We started out at Five Guys to lay the proper groundwork for our efforts. We then wandered up to the Texas Roadhouse to commence adult beverage operations. It was an excellent stop as we were able to solve all the Red Sox problems while watching a recast of the Friday night game. We walked next door to Ruby Tuesday’s where the bar tender seemed confused about our presence. We were the only ones in the bar which felt more like a diner than a true bar.

The First Stop - In my Defense This Was Before I had a Single Beer

The Diner Bar

We then took out life in our hands and crossed busy Lincoln Street to the Press Box which is at the exact opposite end of the spectrum. It had that stale beer smell in the background that permeates only a true “bar”. We had hoped to ambush some of our employees who are known to frequent the establishment but failing that we focused on the extreme stress level certain blouse buttons were undergoing. I’m thinking the bartender bought shirts a couple sizes too small to help in the tip department.

Diving into the Press Box

All too soon we received a text from the Cali-Daughter that the shower was finishing up and we were summoned back to the homestead. While the afternoon was a lot of fun, both at the shower and certainly at the crawl, the after party was the best part of the day. Our house is a little too small for all the gathering, so the next door Mafiosos stepped up again and my daughter’s ability to deflect promised rain allowed us to spend the evening outside for the most part.

Gathered Panamanians for the After Party

The Next Door Mafioso and I (in Panama hat) Conferring on Stone Wall

My Wife in the Background

Fabulous Sunset and Beautiful Women

Wife Making one of her Many Salient Points

My brother in law joined us for the after party and the day was as complete as possible, with the lone exception of a certain rock star winging his way to the land down under. I think people misinterpret how happy I am at these type gatherings. My normal reserve does take a serious shock to its system and with inhibitions suppressed by a couple beers I fully express how happy I am to be around these most special people in my life. Everywhere I turned last night was someone I thought the world of, that’s more than enough. It ended all too soon.

Daughter Executing the Cake with Bonecrusher

Fun Times with Sister and Bro in Law

Party Eventually Moved inSide