Early Morning Drive Followed by Late Night Surprise Gift

I awoke yesterday in my favorite son’s house after a night of dealing with my feet hanging off the end of the bed (I’m too long for a double bed). Sleep was achieved thanks to my heartfelt efforts at reducing my son’s declared overabundance of beer during the prior day’s fantasy football draft. After cleaning up I went downstairs to find Keene Friend contemplating the state of the world after getting up an hour earlier. Since the young’uns showed no signs of stirring we decided to hit the road along with the Wonder Pooch.

I wasn't the Only One is Recovery Mode Yesterday
Pee Wee Assisting Wing Man on his Shire Recovery

We stopped down the street for a quick breakfast which only reinforced my previously stated opinions that external breakfast can only be properly achieved at a true American diner. We then hit out onto the roads for a cross state trip to Keene. I used an alternate routing which brought me along a track that I used when I went to and from college. A lot of memories as I recalled the numerous places I had to wait while hitchhiking (when that was still an accepted mode of travel for the college aged). The best part of the trip was the uninterrupted conversation with the Keene Friend, a great traveling companion.

Wife (l) and the Panamanian Mafia in Maine

After dropping Keene Friend off it was back to the empty house and the tedious routine of Sunday chores without the entertaining company of my favorite Panamanian. Buddy did his level best at making the day diverting but it was a stiff challenge. I felt a need to escape the solitude by early evening; the after effect of what a fun weekend in the company of my favorite people will do to me. I made the two minute trip to the movie theater to see The Gift.

The Obligatory Nubble Light Shot

This was an interesting film that starts out as a run of the mill thriller with the creepy long lost high school acquaintance inserting himself into the lives of a recently moved yuppie couple. Joel Edgerton stars as the creepy guy and also writes/directs.  He shows some real talent as he veers strongly away from the garden variety thriller and recolors the standard for who is really the victim and what constitutes “justice”.

Jason Bateman plays the lead and uses his usual good guy personae to cover up a well disguised dark side. Rebecca Hall continues her strong string of roles, doing well in adding an edge to Bateman’s life as his pill popping wife. I found myself on edge for the entire movie as roles kept getting reversed and predictable thriller events were turned, some subtly, others dramatically. There were large plot holes but at least the film maker took some chances with a well-worn formula and made a fresh movie. Edgerton bears some watching for his future work.

So Cool!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now we get to the late night surprise; luckily I had dismissed the bevy of beauties I had been keeping company with at the house (joking – obviously) because I had just turned the lights out when I received a call from my wife. I had wondered at her half day lack of contact and figured this was her good night call to insure I was behaving myself. I quickly learned that she was making the call from the driveway and needed some help carrying in her various accoutrement. She and the next door Mafioso decided to steal a march on the Labor Day traffic and drove down from Maine last night. It was such a welcome arrival, sleeping alone just plain sucks.

Fantasized

I just got in from an epic drive around an early morning New England; more on that tomorrow. Keene Friend, Buddy and I traveled across New Hampshire yesterday to the commissioner’s house (jointly administered by my favorite son and the ABFA) for the annual family fantasy football draft. My son is once again serving as the league commissioner and tried gamely to move us into the computer age of the draft with middling results.

Meanwhile Wife and Panamanian Mafia Storm Maine

Before the draft took place we helped out in the yard by removing some pesky weeds and then tackling a rogue tree that had been allowed to flourish to the detriment of the tree the landscapers had originally placed. The fact that poison ivy surrounded the base of the tree only added to the quandary (it had Keene Friend and I backing off). The ABFA dad was soon climbing the tree and trimming the top cover back. I was truly impressed with the energy with which he attacked the bogus foliage. His enthusiasm was infective and I was soon circling the base of the tree and pulling down the offending branches he had freed from the base tree. By the end of the effort the ABFA had an impressive pile of brush at the base of her driveway and we were soaked. It was a lot of fun, as is any time hanging out with the ABFA and her parents, even if it’s in a tree. The original tree had emerged from the weed tree and while a little bedraggled from lack of sun was at least set up for future success.

ABFA's Dad at the top of the Tree While Keene Friend Watches from Safe Distance

My son had emphasized that we should not bring any beer with us since he was trying to decrease an impressive cache of same he acquired since moving into the house. I pledged my heartfelt support in reducing this onerous overstocking. By the time the draft was scheduled to start my sister, brother in law, and namesake nephew had arrived along with their two dogs, including Remy, a yellow lab puppy. Remy immediately decided his designated role in life was to torment Buddy from his standoffish posturing. There may be another, more charming dog than Remy, but I’ve never seen one. He was the true star of the show. Christmas is going to be fun.

The Commish in Front of Draft Board

My son had the draft board up on the computer and we were joined by my daughter and Wingman from California via video conferencing. The Wingman was in pretty dire straits since he had just arrived back yesterday morning and was still on shire-time. He rangered his way through the draft though while he and the commissioner made a running series of insults against the way the senior members of the league went about drafting. Apparently there is a “right” way to do it that we were sadly unaware of. That was part of the fun though, as is the time spent with everybody yesterday.

Peak of the Draft

Remy Charming the Commissioner

While I could really care less about the results (except for the pummeling I take from my uber-competitive wife/teammate) it was times like yesterday the league produces which makes it all worth it. While the dogs constantly milled about the draft room the jokes and jests flowed equally as constant. The Keene Friend launched a couple of his trademark dry comments on the process while my sister chimed in with her rapidly developing football “acumen”. The Cantankerous Friend is joining the league this year and was unavailable for the draft so he was auto-drafted which means his team gets the highest rated player available when his turn rolled around. The general consensus was that he ended up with the strongest team. My wife face timed in from Maine and I could tell she would rather have been with our group despite the shopping depredations I’m sure the Panamanian Mafia was inflicting on Maine.  

The Mafia in Maine

The Star of the Draft

The Five Minutes he Slowed Down to Rest

The draft ended all too soon but the fun continued with a backyard barbecue as Remy finally ran out of gas for all of five minutes before resuming his task of shadowing the Wonder Pooch. My sister attempted to take all three dogs out for a walk. She was rescued from her lapse in judgement by the ABFA and her mom. The best part of the day followed as we all sat around the living room as daylight fled all too soon. College football started in earnest, to rescue New England sports fans who’ve been suffering with the Fenway follies for so long. The group, sadly but invariably had to break up with the departures of my sister and her accompanying legion of dogs and excellence. As the Keene Friend and our hosts headed up for bed I found myself alone watching the last parts of the college football games. I had so much fun that I didn’t want the day to end, even though everybody that had made it so special had departed. I’m weird that way.

The Dogs Bringing the Gals Home form their Walk

Move North

I have once again failed to maintain whatever vestige of control I may have in my marriage. A day after regaining her companionship with the Thursday departure of the PanaGals she was scooped up by the Worcester Chapter of the Panamanian Mafia for a long weekend in Maine. It was a girls weekend so we desolate males were left to fend for ourselves. I take this as a sign of development on my side as she now abandons me without worrying that I will be able to fend for myself. While I understandably struggle without her expert guidance, somehow I got through Friday without her.

Wife Up in Maine

After a lively First Friday celebration I once again headed north myself to link up with Keene Friend. We leave this morning to my favorite son's home for the annual family fantasy football draft. We tried to rope in the Cantankerous Friend last night but he was decisively engaged with his dad. We contented ourselves with pizza and beer, because that's how we roll and it was Friday after all. Instead of conducting yet another devastating run through the Keene pub scene we channeled the "old fart" side of our social agenda. We were both pretty gassed from full weeks of work.  Since the Red Sox were actually winning a game and not wanting to curse their chances we watched the new Mad Max, Fury Road movie while pontificating on the general state of the world. Charlize Theron did not fail to impress once again but the movie was definitely better on the big screen, non-stop mayhem.

With This Bunch - More Dangerous than They Appear

I've written (some would say ad nauseum) about the sense of home I always feel when I come back to Keene. One of the things I love doing is reading the local paper, the Keene Sentinel. That sense of home was reinforced this morning when I knew two of the people featured on the front page. One of my high school classmates was front page news as they profiled her physical therapy efforts with local children; a singularly impressive lady. The other story was a veteran local politician who was appointed as County Administrator. I remember him as the youngest child of the family across the street when I was young. My only memories are of watching him running around in diapers. I'm guessing some time has passed. So good being home.

Front Page Classmate

Justice, A Walk and Bon Voyage Not in that Order

A very early morning yesterday as the latest edition of the PanaGals were delivered to Logan Airport for their return trip to Panama. This living in Worcester just gets better and better. I was able to drive them to the airport and return to Worcester in less than two hours, much faster than I expected and in time to have breakfast before heading into work. The house is decidedly quieter and that is not a good thing. I did get my favorite Panamanian back at my side for the nightly news which is definitely a very good thing.

My Wife Between her Two High School Classmates at the Airport Yesterday

I chose to not comment further on the persecution of Tom Brady as it devolved over the months into a morass that defies description. Why a multi-billion dollar corporation decided it needed to pillory one of its best and brightest is beyond comprehension. When the debate shifted to an actual court of law instead of the criminally misleading news leaks and endless talking NFL sycophants of ESPN, the NFL was doomed. While the Patriots are easy to hate outside of New England due to their success and legendary arrogance, the NFL succeeded in making them the victims.

There was a not a convincing shred of evidence that the alleged “crime” even happened. If it did there was no smoking gun that Brady was involved outside of the outrageous claims of the NFL’s toadies on the worldwide leader in sports that “he had to know”. I spent the last four years of my military career leading very high level investigations and I always thought the NFL must have some evidence they were not sharing to take the drastic steps they did in their punishment of the Patriots and Brady. It turned out they didn’t, not even the barest scintilla. They tried their case in the media for eight months and were winning outside of New England but I don’t think they were prepared for their inability to cow Brady. Something innumerable foes have encountered on the field was his iron will and drive to win. This translated well off the field especially when you have the facts on your side. It’s nice to see justice emerge, freed from the fetters of today’s media blitzkrieg where truth isn’t an important aspect to modern journalism. The only crime that was exposed was the $44 million dollar a year salary the NFL is paying its commissioner and his monumentally incompetent team of lawyers.

Since I did have my date back we headed back to the movies last night. The cute young ticket seller asked me if I was eligible for the senior discount which is offered at the age of sixty. I scoffed and said no but then thought, whoah I’m only a few months away from that. This is patently unfair as I can still clearly remember when I outgrew the child discount at the age of 12. We went to see A Walk in the Woods which stars Robert Redford and Nick Nolte as two old guys who decide to hike the Appalachian Trail. I really enjoyed the film but I think I’m firmly in the target audience. I don’t think younger filmgoers will get it. Sometimes, as you get older, just getting out to walk around, freed of the trappings of modern life and recapturing youthful times is intoxicating. Youngsters will just see two old farts walking through endless forests.

Redford plays the calm, successful writer whose idea the trip is while Nolte plays, well Nolte. An overweight loser who’s disappointing life is in sharp contrast. Most of the trip involves the two trying to reclaim their long dormant friendship. I liked the calm approach the movie takes, not going for cheap jokes. This was an actor’s movie and really well acted.

It probably helped that the movie involved a long held dream of my own – to walk the length of the Appalachian Trail.  I first realized this when I was still playing child rates at the theater and I stood at the head of the Appalachian Trail on Mount Katahdin in Maine during a YMCA trip. The military career and life in general prevented acting on this wish. I always figured it was something I would get to after I finished working but then my right knee started to dissolve. I may still attempt it and the movie might have helped because Nolte’s character was hiking with a titanium knee replacement. You’ve got to hold onto your dreams.

Conclavist Sendoff

Yesterday was the only day this week that I was scheduled to spend entirely in Worcester. That didn’t mean it was a day of rest. I’m not trying to exaggerate or say that I’m as tired as the Yankees were yesterday from all the running around the base paths they did at Fenway Park, but I digress. Yesterday was also the last full day in the U.S. for the latest edition of PanaGals.

My Wife in the Chair Next to her Two Buddies

My wife’s two best buddies from high school followed what seemed to be the required itinerary for visiting Panamanian women which meant a lot of shopping. Of course that could be my wife’s influence – going with one of her strengths. They did have to purchase additional suitcases to transport all of their loot home.

From the Other Side

The Worcester Chapter of the Panamanian Mafia was not going to let them leave without a proper sendoff though. A conclave was therefore called and almost the entire organization showed up at our house after dinner last night. My wife prepared a number of her special desserts, which I (of course) could not sample due to keto restrictions. The remnants should last until my Friday keto holiday though. It was the first time for many in the new house and there were a number of comments asking when we got a grandfather clock and a larger TV. The answers were 1997 for the clock and nearly three years ago for the TV. They were never noticed in the much larger Charlton house.

Me Sharing Some Laughs with the Next Door Mafiosos

The group held forth in the living room for several hours and since we’re talking Panamanians here there was a liberal supply of laughter as well (that could have been the infusion of Culitos wine). The two PanaGals felt I was being too strict with their good friend Buddy the Wonder Pooch (he’s charmed yet another generation) by restricting him to the basement. Buddy haughtily took his place in the middle of the living room and promptly passed gas in sufficient volume to have the entire room gasping for air. He spent the rest of the evening in the basement. I’m going to miss the non-stop conversation that’s dominated the house for past couple weeks and not just because my wife will now be free to exercise her supervisory rights more freely. Panamanians bring a joy of life and comradery that is both infectious and completely undeniable.

The PanaGal From January Who Lost Her mom Yesterday

We did receive more sad news yesterday when an earlier PanaGal visitor reported the sudden demise of her mother. It’s been a bad week for parents in my small world.  She made a real impression on the gathered mafia and there were several calls to her last night from the group. All of our thoughts and prayers are with her and her family.

Long Day’s Journey into Past Family

I’m asking myself why the hell I still have my air conditioning on while living in New England and already a couple days into September.  There’s just something wrong about that on a very fundamental level. It was kind of a strange day yesterday on so many levels. I went into work a little early since I would be away from the office most of the day. I always find it interesting when the boss breaks up his routine and shows up at a different time. It certainly sent some people scurrying yesterday. I returned home a couple hours later to an even bigger surprise, my wife being ready on time.

We were driving up to Manchester, New Hampshire for the funeral of the Cantankerous One’s mom. I’d never made the drive from Worcester so I planned what turned out to be a lot more time than was needed. That’s kind of my Modus Operandi given the constraints I’m usually operating under (see surprise noted at my wife’s being ready on time).  Even though its twenty miles further than Keene we made the drive faster. One of the things I love about Worcester is the central location to virtually anywhere in New England. Since we arrived almost an hour early we swung by a Dunkin Donuts in the middle of Manchester. This allowed us to interact with some of Manchester’s most colorful residents.

After escaping that nature preserve I followed the GPS to the address listed for the cemetery where the interment was taking place. This led me to a Frisbee golf course and attendant confusion. There was a cemetery next door although the gate was nearly a half mile in the other direction. We arrived in time for the simple yet heartfelt graveside ceremony. The Cantankerous Friend offered a short but eloquent eulogy that had my wife in tears. We were planning on returning immediately to Worcester but the Cantankerous One asked us to join his family in a post ceremony lunch at a local restaurant. After another GPS adventure (two locations with the same name and I picked the wrong one – of course) we sat down with the assembled family.

My Wife and the Cantankerous Friend at the Post Ceremony Luncheon

We felt a little out of place initially with the close knit family but that soon dissolved in the welcoming nature of everyone around us. The father in law of our host’s younger brother was very entertaining and soon had us listening to his repertoire of jokes that had his nearby grandchildren groaning (I’m guessing this was not the first time they’d heard the jokes). The Cantankerous Friend joined us for most of the time and it really felt like we were part of the family. I wrote him a message later in the day thanking him for allowing us to be part of the group and his answer brought me up short. He sent “I remember a time when you were part of the family”. So do I and that’s what made the past two days special in a way I couldn’t pinpoint until I read that message. I was back in Worcester behind my desk for the final couple hours of the work day when I received that message. It meant a lot.

Dinner from Monday Night Because I Uncharacteristically Forgot to Take One Last Night

The visiting PanaGals only have a couple more days in the U.S. and wanted to thank us and the next door Mafioso for everything done to make their visit memorable. They insisted on taking us out to dinner last night. They discovered a dish they loved on our visit to Keene on Monday night and I was charged with finding the local outlet of the same restaurant. We were joined by the Mafioso’s husband who is truly one of the funniest guys I know. We were stopped at a traffic light when we noticed one of Worcester’s denizens (they put Manchester’s to shame in the depravity department) holding forth in a loud voice in a 7-11 parking lot. The Mafioso’s husband rolled down his window and shouted encouragement to the insane diatribe. The madman only paused momentarily in shock that someone actually listened to him and then continued in even greater voice.

Dinner was a lot of fun and the laughter rarely stopped with subject veering sharply into the ribald at times. We explored some more of the colorful Worcester landscape during our return home as the ladies declared a requirement to acquire some more of the infamous “Culitos” (look it up if you want to know) wine. The only place in town selling the stuff was at the entrance to Great Brook Valley. The “Valley” is justifiably infamous for its place in Worcester lore as one of the most dangerous places in town. I acquired the wine and then waited outside the liquor store, looking decidedly out of place, while the PanaGals availed themselves of yet another American tradition – scratch tickets. A long, but sublimely enjoyable day.

Memory Bin Ransacked

Kind of a crazy day yesterday, even given its dreaded Monday appellation. In the mid-afternoon I loaded up my houseful of Panamanian women and headed north for the calling hours for the Cantankerous Friend’s mom. After arriving in Keene we dropped off the PanaGals so they could properly genuflect at the altar known as TJ Maxx – a required stop in any shopping pilgrimage.

Cantankerous Friend and his Mom a Few Years Ago

My wife and I then went to the funeral home to join the Cantankerous One’s family in remembering their mom. It was at the same funeral home as my own mother’s funeral some 12 years ago so that was just one of the memories the day was competing with. There were so many others. I wrote a couple days ago about how close our families were when I was very young and it was kind of startling to see them all again with children and grandchildren after four decades. I was through the receiving line before I even processed that I’d said hi to the Cantankerous One’s two sisters. The last time I’d seen his youngest sister was in 1977 in the very same room for the funeral of her best friend at the time, my sister. I think her mom would have been pleased at the turnout yesterday as friends and family swirled around the grieving family who were obviously still a very close bunch.  They had over a hundred pictures of the family circulating on a nearby screen including conclusive evidence that the Cantankerous Friend's haircut hasn't changed in over half a century. Cantankerous Friend’s dad was out of the hospital and did his level best to be gracious and welcoming despite having the love of his life laying a few yards away. I was genuinely surprised at the depth of emotion and overwhelming sense of memory I experienced being around these fine people. It was a glimpse back to the happiest time of my own youth.

Wife and PanaGals Last Night

When we left my wife foisted me off on Keene Friend so she could see to the recovery of the PanaGals. Two hours later she reluctantly agreed to retrieve me so the Keene Friend could follow his usual routine instead of hosting me, yet again. I took them out to dinner with the attendant need to translate everything which was entertaining in and of itself. A long day considering the driving involved but well worth it to delve so deeply into the memory bin.

I also finished off my latest in the line of Mathew Scudder novels by Lawrence Block, 8 Million Way to Die. This was made into a very forgettable movie back in the 1980s where they moved the character to Los Angeles, one of the many crimes against humanity that Oliver Stone, who penned the script, is guilty of. Scudder needs to be in New York because that city is one of the major supporting characters in all of his books.

I truly enjoyed this latest story as Scudder is hired to break a prostitute away from her pimp only to have her killed a few days later. The pimp then hires Scudder to find the killer. If that’s not complex enough Scudder is also finally coming to terms with his alcoholism which serves as a yet another layer to this fascinating book. I think what I like best about Scudder is his dogged determination. He doesn’t make Sherlockian leaps of logic but keeps gnawing away at problems until he solves them. If you haven’t discovered Scudder yet – do yourself a favor.