Thursday, December 30, 2010

Bring on the New Year - I'm Ready

30 December 2010:

The post-holiday blues of 2010/2011 and we dodged a big bullet here in the mid-Atlantic region. While everyone around us was inundated with snow, we got nothing, which is fine with me. Bring on Global Warming! Christmas this year was wonderful - as good as it gets - and now after one of the coldest Decembers on record our temps are rising nicely. Even the mourning doves are singing again at day-break and today there was frost on the lawn - that's a good sign. Another trip around the Sun. Another year completed - almost. We'll attend our annual get together with special friends on New Year's Eve and enjoy a big dinner of lamb and Indian delicacies. Nice. Everything's right with the world when you have your health, still enjoy dancin' and romancin' with your spouse, and can still enjoy life surrounded by family and friends.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Waiting For Christmas

21 December 2010 -

I've decided that in 2010 I will have experienced the greatest Christmas of my lifetime. Now that's a bold statement! I have everything a 66-year old grandfather could wish or hope for. There is nothing more I want out of life beyond what I have right now. When you have your health, you have everything, as the saying goes, considering the past year in which I've seen the passing of some very good friends. And other good friends have passed into stages of early old-age, which is a warning to me that I have to protect the good health I'm blessed with. But most of all I'm grateful for being able to spend quality time with the "little ones" (who seem) to be blossoming abundantly in our respective families. First and foremost is my own grand daughter who doesn't waste any time by jumping up next to me to exclaim, "Tell me another story, Papi Ed!" I've finally reached that stage - an old man telling wild tales to a child. I'm reminded very quickly of my own grandfather who taught me how to fish. He was also one step removed from his Irish immigrant parents so he punched the ticket for outlandish story-telling. But I certainly don't feel old. And I certainly don't feel as old or act as old as some of my friends. Some are luckier than others. Thank God I still have the energy to go a good five or six or seven hours with a five year-old. The time-frame here isn't important. What matters is how much time you have to devote to a child. A child you love very much. Christmas is right here in front of my eyes. And it's a going to be a very beautiful Christmas.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Harbinger

December, 2010

The First Measurable snowfall of the season and Jill Hossler snapped this image up in Jefferson, Maryland. The brilliant red of our state bird against the clean white of the new snow. Add holly berries. You don't have to go to the local mall to get into the Christmas spirit. It's usually right outside our kitchen windows. Thanks Jill, for allowing me to post this.

(Photo by Jill Hossler, Maryland, December 2010)

Thursday, December 16, 2010

I'm Not Making This Up . .(1) . . .

November 2010 - Scarborough, Maine

I've been a Cabela's customer since the 70's. I can always count on quality goods that are really made for the outdoors and the price for the level of quality is usually decent. Established in Nebraska in 1961 as a mail-order house for fishermen, the Cabela's Brothers made their mark in designing fishing lures and fishing equipment, and soon found a niche in supplying the serious hunter also. I remember when L.L. Bean and Orvis had the same style of business. When I got out of the service both mail-order houses were still carrying bamboo fly-rods and shooting equipment and some of the finest outdoor equipment on the market. Then marketing tactics changed with the coming of the Era of "Preppie." We're not stupid. L.L. Bean and Orvis flip-flopped on who they were marketing to, and outdoorsmen soon changed a lot of their allegiances to suppliers like Cabela's and Gander Mountain. Thank God. I could rely on buying clothing and gear that stood the test of the kind of traveling I was doing around the world. A man needs gear - not a catalogue filled with sheets and towels and embroidered designer dog-collars. L.L. Bean had sold its soul to the suburban Lincoln SUV crowd and I can't figure what Orvis is up to, except to dress up fashionable nancy-boys and foist Irish crystal on to the McLean, Virginia cocktail set. There is a mecca for those of us who are left. It's called the Kittery Trading Post up in York, Maine. Anyone who's been there knows what they sell. If you like guns this is your heaven on earth. If you're going to spend time in the Maine woods hunting black bear, you'll probably make the Kittery Trading Post your first stop after crossing the New Hampshire border. I've been buying stuff there since 1969 and never fail to visit the Post every time I'm in Maine. They just have the best prices around for anything and have frequent sales annually that draw outdoorsmen from all parts of New England. But I need to get back to talking about my experience at Cabela's.

With Cabela's new-found riches after thousands of sportsmen fled L.L. Bean, they opened up their first "grand store" in the late 80's and continued to add stores into the 90's. Don't expect to find them near urban yuppie or preppie centers. Two years ago one opened up in Scarborough, Maine but I never had time to visit. This November I made a point to get there to see if Cabela's was keeping its promise to cater to the real hunter, the real fisherman, the guy who's looking for the color of clothing that comes in other than "Burnt Cinnamon Rose" or "Sycamore."

The store is easy to get to just a half-mile off the Maine Turnpike and it's easily visible from the Turnpike, too. The first thing that impresses you is the size - when I entered a greeter told me I would need a solid two hours to see everything. I had a pretty good idea of what was in my Cabela's catalogue and I wanted to see if they had the whole catalogue selection. They had that and a lot more. I was specifically looking for a pair of merino wool long underwear that I've had my eye on for the past two years. The killer winter we had here in Virginia last year convinced me that it was time to invest in the ultimate layering factor and since I'm way over 60 years old, they'll last me till I'm dead. No matter where I looked I couldn't find them and I finally resorted to asking for help. A young man probably no more than 20 took me around a couple of display racks and over to one of the computer terminals and said, "Let's take a look and see if we have them listed." "What are they again?" he asked, and I said "Merino wool long underwear - you have them listed right here in the catalogue." He kept his eyes glued to the terminal screen. "Naw, I don't see them anywhere. I just don't see them listed." And then the most amazing thing happened. He said, "How do you spell Merino?" Okay, that's an easy mistake for somebody who's young and lives off the turnpike in Maine. I spelled it out for him and added "It's originally Spanish - maybe for the name of the sheep" thinking he could pass that knowledge on to the next new sales staffer who didn't know where the word originated. Then the heart of the matter finally came forward - the reason why we couldn't track down the item in question - he looked at the screen, turned to me, and with the most serious expression asked, "Wow! I just had a brain Fart! How do you spell Wool?" I hate that expression. It expresses everything I hate about the way people talk to each other these days. What does it mean? Is it supposed to be cute? Where did it originate? Probably on the "Friends" show for all I care.

I looked at the poor kid and it was like a bullet had just gone through one side of my neck and out the other. The seriousness of his look and his sincerity at the question told me a million things about him and I just couldn't be angry. To make matters worse I turned around to leave and right behind me, sort of under the gloom of an over-hanging top shelf was a whole display rack filled with the item I had been looking for. On each packet in big blue letters were the words "Men's Merino Wool Long Underwear." I laughed. The kid laughed. I left the store without purchasing anything. My shock and anger wasn't directed toward the kid. My anger and shock was directed toward the educational system that had produced him. Maybe the societal attitude that had produced him coupled with the unproductive educational system which hadn't prepared him in any way, shape or form to go out and get a job and have him deal everyday with the public. It's why I hate stores. It's why I buy everything from catalogues or else order it on-line. I just don't want to deal with it anymore because I feel embarrassed - and to go to a store in this day and age has just become a big waste of my time. I'll still purchase from Cabela's - it'll be easier to do it on-line.

I'm Not Making This Up . . (2)