Birthday Budfest

Party Time

Continuing the theme from yesterday’s posting, apparently my title is intact as far as beer consumption. The Panamanian Champion failed to arise intact yesterday morning and his mother informed me that I scored a technical knockout. “You play with the big boys, you have to get up with the big boys.”

Keene Friend 1 and my Wife

We ran up to Keene yesterday afternoon because Keene Friend 2 and his superb significant other were hosting an Oktoberfest birthday bash for all of us unfortunates who turn 60 this year. Since that crowd consists of my high school classmates, it promised to be fun. We first had to negotiate the early afternoon shopping requirements of the visiting Panamanians. I’m sure the Keene TJ Maxx greeted my wife like the returning champion she is. Keene Friend and I wandered down to Scores which is definitely where one should set up during college football season. Every possible game being played was showing. It was almost overwhelming if it wasn’t so cool. My wife actually returned on time with a freshly filled car of tax free purchases and we headed to the party.

Embracing the Foolishness

As soon as we arrived all the birthday boys were subjected to the indignity demonstrated in the attached photos. I made the mistake of texting them to the Pittsburgh college roommate who could not attend. They shortly found their way to the internet for worldwide circulation. A beautiful New Hampshire evening descended as the bratwurst and attendant beers were sent down range. The resident ground hog made several runs across the lawn in search of a neighbor’s apples. Which led the Panamanians to gaze in wonder at the first apple tree they’d ever seen. It also led to Keene Friend 2’s story of his travel to ground hog central, Punxsutawney, PA to retrieve his stolen car when in his early 20s.

Keene Friend and the Panamanians

The best part was catching up with lifelong friends again. I got to speak with a guy that was my best friend in 3^rd grade who is back living in the same house that he grew up in. It’s in the same neighborhood as my childhood home so we had a lot of fun reminiscing. The entire group fell back into the rhythms of friendship which in some cases had laid dormant for much too long. It was comfortable, like a favorite worn quilt on a cold morning.

Bonecrusher Made the Trip as the 60 Boys Cut the Cake

Keene Friend 2 created a fire pit which the entire group ended up sitting around for the final hours of the party. The Pittsburgh college roommate called and had the phone passed around the circle so he could at least partially take part in the gathering. Keene Friend 2 kept disappearing around the house and returning with branches for the fire. He dismissed my suggestions concerning the neighbor’s wooden fence. He’s a lot smarter than me. It was a great gathering that ended way, way too soon, even though it was late in the evening.

My wife performed her designated driver role to perfection. At least that is what I’m told since I missed a lot of it. I did wake up to find us closing in on Worcester. I did have enough time to make the drunk call to my sister that I failed to do on Friday night. It was almost like she expected it. I’m predictable that way.

Keene Friend 2 and his Girlfriend Around the Fire

Firsting About

Yesterday morning I stopped by the bus station before going to work because the latest wave of Panamanian invaders returned from their adventures up and down the East Coast. We dropped them off in Connecticut last Saturday and since then they traveled to New York City, Washington DC, and North Carolina. They didn’t want to impose by having me drive to a distant location to retrieve them so they figured out how to catch a very early morning bus from New York City directly to Worcester.

Buddy Enjoying is Post Walk Massage

Buddy was apoplectic to have the latest victims of his charm back to continue to hone his technique upon. I returned home from the initial phases of First Friday to find that he had cajoled them into giving him a walk around the neighborhood. He then convinced them he had to have a massage following the walk. I’m not sure how he does it.

Dinner at Oli's

As previously stated I started First Friday celebrations with my co-workers at the comely laden environs of Brew City. We continued the party with a pizza dinner at nearby Oli’s. While there I received the latest photo update from the Cali-daughter on the progress of the First Blog Reader. Creation appears on track, glow intact.

First Blog Reader Progress

After dinner my wife was admirably performing her role as designated driver and somehow we ended up at Maxwell Silverman’s for some dancing, go figure. While there I discovered that I was up against what has to be the beer drinking champion of Panama. Usually I have little trouble in savaging whatever competition I have in terms of sheer volume consumed. My wife’s friend’s son matched me beer for beer though which was a little disconcerting, if entertaining. We had a very good time although my wife did take exception to my somewhat animated discussion of the large zipper adorning a dress bouncing around the dance floor. It’s at times like this a smarter man would keep his mouth shut.

At Silverman's

My Competition and his Girlfriend

Today promises to continue the fun as we head north so I can show the Panamanians that singular garden spot, New Hampshire. Keene Friend 2 is hosting an Oktoberfest themed birthday party for those of us fortunate enough to reach our 60^th birthday this year. We’ll see if the Panamanian can maintain his pace for two days in a row. I love a challenge.

Some Competitions are More Fun Than Others

Oh Yeah

I am so ready for Friday’s arrival with all its pristine opportunities to explore life without work. There’s also the not so small matter of a party tomorrow up in Keene that has my undivided motivation. There is the minor task of completing the last work day of the week but the portents are all in place for a superb First Friday and all that entails. I first have to survive another round of hooking and jabbing with the union since one of our best drivers was caught using a cell phone while driving (keel hauling is called for). Frustrating that it wasn’t one of the dirtbags who I’d relish the opportunity to sever ties with.

A crusty old First Sergeant I served with back in the day had the best idea. He recommended that the NCO’s select a “dud of the month” at the start of each month. Since we started each month with a battalion sized PT (physical training) session it would be perfect opportunity for wide dissemination to all Soldiers. The selected dud would be kneeled in front of the formation and summarily executed. The First Sergeant opined this would serve as major motivation for those Soldiers needing same. He said after a couple months of this there wouldn’t be any more duds to shoot. I said he was a bit crusty, didn’t I. I told him the plan probably wouldn’t be approved by the judge advocates but I would certainly keep it in mind.

I watched a fascinating edition of American Experience on PBS over the past couple nights. The subject was Walt Disney which offered a no frills exploration of his life. I think they went into it expecting to find all kinds of people ready to heap abuse on the iconic dreamer. As one speaker put it, “You don’t accomplish everything he did without making enemies”. The funny thing was that I was left with even more respect for him after the show and I went into it thinking he merited awe and someone worthy of close to worship. 

Watch This if you Get the Chance

He was a man with a unique insight into the American psyche and his ability to tap into that is still being felt today. I always equated him with my uncles, brothers of my father, who were my definitive male role models growing up, so high praise. I can still remember the excitement each Sunday night at 7pm when we sat down waiting for Walt to appear and lead us on another adventure. His profound sense of possibility was mirrored in his life and death. He spent his last night on earth passing on to his brother his dreams for Disneyworld which were eventually realized in Florida. I heartily recommend this special to everyone, especially those of us who grew up watching Walt every Sunday. I was also reminded once again of the high quality PBS constantly puts on the screen.

My Future Place of Employment

Finally a quick update on the new operations facility currently under construction here in Worcester. It will be my new place of employment in less than a year now. It was also a serious brownfields and the past year has been spent cleaning it up. It was the site of a late 19^th century coal plant and nearly 16 million dollars had to be spent remediating all the hazardous materials found buried in the days before environmental laws were in place. The building is now going up and it looks like it’ll be enclosed before the snow flies. Now I just hope my shoes don’t melt when I start working there. I’m assured they won’t.

Four Frail Years

I was wandering through the background of my blog looking at statistics when I realized I’ve been doing this for four years now. I started in September 2011 after enjoying my daughter’s blog and missing it when she stopped. This is the 1,719^th post I’ve written. This was my first entry:

“I'm not sure where this is headed but I was inspired to start this blog by my daughter, a truly gifted writer. I've discovered, relatively late in life, that I enjoy writing.  I'm a retired Army officer still learning how to be a civilian again.  I am still figuring out how to construct this thing, no bells and whistles until my daughter is available for tutorials.  I plan on just passing on observations and comments and hope to say something worthwhile.  You will be the judge but I reserve the right to overturn all convictions. Out for now.”

It’s interesting to look back because it provides a sightline of the time bridged used to get where I’m presently. The past four years have certainly provided an abundance of subject matter: I’ve changed houses, changed jobs, the MEG arrived on the scene to rapidly transition first to the MEF and ultimately the ABFA, my son changed jobs so he didn’t have to wander all over the globe and bought his first house, my inspirational daughter pulled up stakes in her beloved New York City and moved to the Los Angeles environs that produced the redoubtable WingMan and ultimately The First Blog Reader!

So a lot has gone on in the past few years. More than anything else this blog provided a chance to stay connected with friends and family more than my normal reticence previously permitted. As Keene Friend so eloquently stated early in the process, “He has feelings. Who knew?!” Sometimes when you examine how you react to things you learn more about yourself. I think it’s called insight, but don’t quote me. I’ve thought at times to give it up; especially when I read what really good writers produce but at this point I would miss doing it. I don’t have any illusions about the quality but I like putting things out there and seeing that someone on the other side of the earth took a moment to read it. This effort has now evolved to a letter to my future grandchildren (hence the First Blog Reader appellation) when they’re old enough to understand the context. At the rate they are appearing I will be long in the ground at that point.

One of my first entries was about finding that elusive “home” that I left so many years ago when I joined the Army. I’ve discovered that home. I made the mistake of assuming it was a geographical location. While that might be a very small part of it, home is the people you surround yourself with. These last ten years have been the best of my life precisely because of the people I’m fortunate enough to call friends and that certainly includes family members (kind of cool when they satisfy both titles). So thank you to all those fabulous individuals that make getting up every day such a pleasure. A partial and certainly incomplete list: my favorite Panamanian, Cali-Daughter, Favorite Son, WingMan, the ABFA, Sisters 1 & 2, Keene Friends 1 & 2, Cantankerous Friend, Pittsburgh College Roommate, the Musqueteras; Buddy – AKA the Wonder Pooch, all the various incarnations of the PanaGals, the Panamanian/Latin Mafia, my Excellent Boss, Sister’s magnificent in law’s (even the arcane one), the always special cousins, First Friday Compadres, High School Classmates, Pub Crawlers, and so many, many more. Thank you for helping me find my home.

Madrugada Returns and Ginmill Visits

Weird day yesterday, on a number of levels, which is not necessarily a bad thing. I’ve been trying unsuccessfully for years to get some of my subordinate managers to show a little more initiative; something not easily taught or acquired. One of my cardinal rules in this effort has been, “never bring a problem to your boss unless you also bring a suggested solution”. All too often they come running with a problem and want someone else to solve it for them, instead of thinking it through and discovering the solution is something well within their capability and authority.

Sometimes the solution they offer is embarrassingly inadequate but I want them to at least attempt to operate intellectually on the next level of supervision. What made yesterday a little special was that on three different occasions three different subordinate managers came to me with problems and the correct solution. Sometimes, it’s all about making progress.

Since my wife was traipsing around New York City yesterday I was alone for date night but it also permitted the viewing of a horror movie which would be verboten otherwise. I don’t think there’s another director who showed more promise with a first film than M. Night Shyamalan with The Sixth Sense, nearly a perfect movie. His efforts since then have been a descent into mediocrity that is almost as cringe worthy as some of those most recent movies. The Visit isn’t a complete return to form but it is definitely a step in the right direction.

He takes all of the traditional issues the very young have with the very old and adds some barbs to the hook. A daughter estranged from her parents sends her two children to spend a week with their grandparents which leads to the gradually unveiled horror. He missteps using the “found footage” technique but I’ll admit to some real seat squirming, especially in the second half, and that’s why I love horror movies. I was reminded of terror I felt for each of Ellen Burstyn’s walks down the hall to Regan’s room in the Exorcist every time the young kids approached their bedroom door after 9:30PM. There was even a mild twist near the end. A solid, scary movie which for M. Night constitutes a serious win.

My Wife and the Virginia Musquetera with the Sister in the Middle
Yesterday in NYC

Back to my favorite Panamanian, she successfully linked up with the Virginia Musquetera and her sister once they figured out that Penn Station was an entirely different place than Grand Central Station. It’s testimony to their friendship that they traveled up from Virginia and Massachusetts for the sole purpose of my wife meeting the sister. She kind of does that to people, she’s fun to hang out with. The next door Mafioso even volunteered to accompany my wife for the trip down. By all reports, sketchily relayed this morning, they had a very good time. They even provided directions to a lost Guatemalan lady they found wandering near the train station. “Madrugada” is one of my favorite words in Spanish. I like the way it rolls off the tongue. Its meaning, “very early morning” is decidedly more dastardly. It does however describe the time my wife rolled in from her Big Apple adventures last night.

I was thinking alot about New York City yesterday because I was finishing up my latest book in the excellent Matthew Scudder novels by Lawrence block, When the Sacred Ginmill Closes.

The Two Sisters in Times Square

My determined march through this series was interrupted by a couple other books. It was great getting back to Scudder whom I left finally admitting to himself that he was an alcoholic. It felt like getting back together with an old friend. I expected this next book to explore that transition in his life. Instead Block has Scudder flashing back ten years in his life to the height of his drinking days and several separate cases that fell into his lap.

Scudder has to solve a perplexing robbery, a blackmailing, and a seemingly solved murder case. The flashback also allows Block to have Scudder interacting with a close knit group of friends (predictably most of them bartenders) instead of his usual loner personae. As with all the Scudder novels New York City is a central character as he moves around the city doggedly pursuing truth and exacting Scudderian justice. New York comes alive in Block’s work, a living, breathing entity. I think, when I finish that trek through this series, I owe myself an unaccompanied trip to New York City to immerse myself in Scudder’s environment. I loved the book and the opportunity it takes for Scudder to reflect on where his life has taken him, something we should all do occasionally.

I’ve gotten away from including passages from the books I’ve been reading. That was a mistake since they all do a much better job at wordsmithing than I could ever hope to. You can certainly see that here as Scudder considers the ten years that had passed since the cases related in the book passed:

“So many changes, eating away at the world like water dripping on a rock. For God’s sake, last summer the sacred ginmill closed, if you want to call it that. The lease on Armstrong’s came up for renewal and Jimmy walked away from it, and now there’s another goddamned Chinese restaurant where the old joint used to be. He re-opened a block further west, at the corner of Fifty-seventh and Tenth, but that’s a little out of my way these days.  In more ways than one. Because I don’t drink any more, one day at a time, and thus have no business in ginmills, be they sacred or profane. I spend less of my time lighting candles and more in church basements, drinking my coffee without bourbon, and out of Styrofoam cups. So when I look ten years into the past I can say that I would very likely have handled things differently now, but everything is different now. Everything. All changed, changed utterly. I live in the same hotel, I walk the same streets, I go to a fight or a ball game the same as ever, but ten years ago I was always drinking and now I don’t drink at all. I don’t regret a single one of the drinks I took, and I hope to God I never take another. Because that, you see, is the less traveled road on which I find myself these days, and it has made all the difference. Oh, yes. All the difference.”

Roving Gal

I’ve always known that I married a traveling gal. My favorite Panamanian just loves to hit the road, it’s something we share to a certain degree but I’m not seriously in her league. I used to be but the Army burnt some of that out of me, probably by all the “garden spots” around the world I ended up in. My wife, on the other hand, now leaps at each and every opportunity to travel (maybe she’s trying to tell me somethingJ). She embraced the constant moves the Army required of us instead of the usual implication that it should be viewed as a burden. Yesterday we made her airline reservations for the October journey out to California to commence her gramma watch in person. Wingman found a really cheap direct flight. He was concerned the return November flight wouldn’t get in until 1am but I told him that was perfect because even the Boston traffic subsides by that time (and I have been known for late night activity since my early youth). It was heartwarming to see how both of the two most important women in my life are looking forward to their time together.

My wife’s nomadic efforts were not complete however. The Virginia Musquetera’s sister is visiting from Venezuela and my wife felt a primal need to meet the sister of her sister (of the heart). I learned that the original plan was an October link up in New York but this was scuttled with the California diversion for my favorite Panamanian (I received the entire blow by blow account last night). To overcome this obstacle to the “required” meeting of these two august personalities my wife and the next door Mafioso are traveling to NYC today while the Virginia contingent approaches same from the south. Both groups will spend the afternoon together in the Big Apple before returning home tonight (weird but admirable).  I think a lot of her excitement was the fact she was hitting the road again with some serious conversation time on the agenda. Since I’m left to my own devices and this marks the first day in a week without cortisone ointment for poison ivy I’ll take in a horror movie tonight (an impossibility if I had my usual, preferred date).

Couched

Yesterday the song that is rapidly becoming one of my favorite tunes was once again issuing forth from my TV speakers sending a siren call that cannot be ignored. I am speaking, of course, of the theme music for the NFL Red Zone which featured its first full day of action for the new season. This filled the need for relevant sports programming (considering the debacle of the Sox from May through July) with no less than seven hours of commercial free football.

It’s appropriate that fall weather also started creeping in over the weekend as well. The college kids who inhabit the houses surrounding the Keene Friend seem to be on their best behavior this year. Could it be the Keene State administration has finally started to assume some responsibility for their students’ conduct in the host town? As soon as we went to bed on Saturday night, the fairly lively party that was ongoing across the street moved inside. It was a nice gesture even though I could have slept through a moderate sized gunfight after the beer sent downrange celebrating the Keene Friend’s birthday earlier that day. Buddy got his required early morning walk around Keene and we all went out to breakfast before hurrying home to accomplish pre-football tasks.

I checked in to Face Book a couple times during the day to find myself chastised by high school classmates who would have joined us Saturday if I had been more energetic with broadcasting our actual location. I took the counseling to heart and I guess I should mention there is a party next Saturday at Keene Friend Two’s house for all of us turning 60 this year. Contact me if you’re available late Saturday, the 19^th, afternoon. If you turned 60 this year and are affiliated with the KHS class of 1973 is some arcane fashion – you will be welcome.

Participation in fantasy football really does change the way you watch football. There are no meaningless games now. The Red Zone is the perfect complement to this. I greeted the host like a long lost friend when he appeared for the first time. My wife asked me who I was talking to and just shaking her head in disbelief. My team did fairly well and would have won against almost anybody else in the league except, predictably, the guy I was playing, none other than the commissioner himself, my favorite son. I’m sure he’s found some way to manipulate scoring to his advantage; that is the only explanation as to why I was so soundly defeated. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.