Patriots' Day is a civic holiday commemorating the anniversary of the Battles of Lexington and Concord fought on April 19, 1775, the first battles of the American Revolutionary War. It is observed in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts and state of Maine. Observances and re-enactments of these first battles of the American Revolution occur annually at Lexington Green in Lexington, Massachusetts, (around 6am) and The Old North Bridge in Concord, Massachusetts (around 9am). In the morning, a mounted reenactor with State Police escort retraces Paul Revere's ride, calling out warnings the whole way.
The Boston Marathon is run on Patriots' Day every year so many Bostonians know the holiday as "Marathon Monday". The Boston Red Sox have traditionally been scheduled to play at home in Fenway Park on Patriots' Day every year since 1959. Since 1968 the games have started early in the morning around 11:00 AM. The early start to these games usually resulted in the game ending just as the marathon is heading through Kenmore Square. However, since 2007 the marathon has started between 9:30 AM and 10:00 AM, resulting in the racers going through Kenmore towards the middle of the Red Sox game.
Having run in 4 Boston Marathons, 1986, 1987, 1996, and 2000, I can tell you first hand that the atmosphere in Boston will be absolutely electric. As you can see, there is no paucity of activity, whether you would like to relive some of the nations history, or perhaps become part of history, it is entirely up to you.
When the first Patriots fired the shot heard round the world, I am sure they weren't giving any thought to what would be happening 200+ years later. To the Patriots and the Founding Fathers, I salute you; to the Red Sox, thanks for 2004 and 2007; and to the men and women toeing the line in Hopkington, run like the wind and have fun. There is nothing quite like running the Boston Marathon, and "remembah" to drink plenty of "watah", take lots of "pitchas", then "aftah" the race, have some "pizzar" and a cold "beeha"!
Monday, April 19, 2010
Friday, April 16, 2010
You should always leave room for dessert
Remember the old TV show, "Leave it to Beaver"? Mrs. Clever generally had a snack, typically milk and cookies, waiting for the "Beaver" when he arrived home after school. Sound familiar? I suspect that most of us had similar childhood experiences. However, if it was getting closer to suppertime, I know my mother ordinarily told us that we had to wait for supper, otherwise, it would spoil our appetites. I suppose this could have been considered an early form of food rationing, but growing up in a large family, sanctions on portions were an everyday occurrence anyway.
Although snacks can be quite tasty, for some reason, the idea of dessert just has a different kind of appeal. If my mother had planned to have dessert after dinner, she usually would inform us ahead of time. After all, knowing that we were having a sweet num num after dinner, well, leaving room for dessert didn't seem that difficult. If the dessert was one of our favorites, that made it all the easier too. I particularly loved her apple pie with a little vanilla ice cream from the A&P. If we didn't have homemade, my Grandmother usually would bring an apple pie and maybe a chocolate mousse cake from our favorite bakery, Lyndell's. If Grandma was responsible for the dessert, of course, she would have to bring enough for everyone.
As active as we all were as kids, I wonder how we restrained ourselves from having those seconds. That was precisely the time in my life when I could afford the "extra" kcals. Now, when I shouldn't be consuming the extra calories, I don't leave room for dessert, but I indulge myself anyway. What is the logic in that? Perhaps we should all take a page out of our childhood and leave room enough for dessert. I have said this before and I will say it again, we shouldn't eat every meal as if it was our last, but that is going to take some real convincing to get people to buy into that one. How about a little more exercise to justify those extras? I could sink my teeth into that one, but that's something to which you can be sure few people will subscribe. Maybe we should simply change it to "make" room for dessert, because we are likely to do so regardless. And that brings up another problem. How do you remember to spell dessert? There are 2 "eses" in dessert, because you always want 2. Anyhow, that's how the nuns taught me to remember it. The temptations never end, do they?
Although snacks can be quite tasty, for some reason, the idea of dessert just has a different kind of appeal. If my mother had planned to have dessert after dinner, she usually would inform us ahead of time. After all, knowing that we were having a sweet num num after dinner, well, leaving room for dessert didn't seem that difficult. If the dessert was one of our favorites, that made it all the easier too. I particularly loved her apple pie with a little vanilla ice cream from the A&P. If we didn't have homemade, my Grandmother usually would bring an apple pie and maybe a chocolate mousse cake from our favorite bakery, Lyndell's. If Grandma was responsible for the dessert, of course, she would have to bring enough for everyone.
As active as we all were as kids, I wonder how we restrained ourselves from having those seconds. That was precisely the time in my life when I could afford the "extra" kcals. Now, when I shouldn't be consuming the extra calories, I don't leave room for dessert, but I indulge myself anyway. What is the logic in that? Perhaps we should all take a page out of our childhood and leave room enough for dessert. I have said this before and I will say it again, we shouldn't eat every meal as if it was our last, but that is going to take some real convincing to get people to buy into that one. How about a little more exercise to justify those extras? I could sink my teeth into that one, but that's something to which you can be sure few people will subscribe. Maybe we should simply change it to "make" room for dessert, because we are likely to do so regardless. And that brings up another problem. How do you remember to spell dessert? There are 2 "eses" in dessert, because you always want 2. Anyhow, that's how the nuns taught me to remember it. The temptations never end, do they?
Thursday, April 15, 2010
April 15th can be quite Taxing for Some
When I was in the the first grade, I had my first exposure to the tax man, Zacchaeus. He was a rather diminutive character who had climbed a tree in order to capture a glimpse of Jesus when he came into his town. I don't think that his being a tax collector made as much of an impression on me as his climbing the tree, but as I recall, few people cared for him. That was one of the talking points from the story, and even then, few individuals really were enamored with the tax man.
Here we are some 2000 years later, and the thought of taxes still causes angst for some. Of course, if you have paid your estimated taxes or had an adequate amount withheld from your paycheck, then April 15th is merely the date to have had your taxes filed, so you could be enjoying that tax refund already. However, if you are like most households, tax day means, it's time to ante up and pay Uncle Sam. I only hope that the taxes we pay go to good use, and that our legislators spend it as if it was their very own hard earned cash.
Yes, April 15th is synonymous with Tax Day here in the US. For some, it's just another day at the office, while for others, it is a day of high anxiety and lots of money shuffling. It can be a crazy day indeed, especially if you make your living as a tax accountant. As for me, today was a day off, and this year at least, I didn't worry about my taxes because they were long since filed and paid. My only deadline is to get this blog published before the "moke of stridnight". Otherwise, I'll be penalized for publishing it too late and may have to file for an extension. No, those rules don't apply to blogging, only to paying your taxes; and thanks to the Patriots and the Founding Fathers, I may just have a cup of "tea" before I call it a day!
Here we are some 2000 years later, and the thought of taxes still causes angst for some. Of course, if you have paid your estimated taxes or had an adequate amount withheld from your paycheck, then April 15th is merely the date to have had your taxes filed, so you could be enjoying that tax refund already. However, if you are like most households, tax day means, it's time to ante up and pay Uncle Sam. I only hope that the taxes we pay go to good use, and that our legislators spend it as if it was their very own hard earned cash.
Yes, April 15th is synonymous with Tax Day here in the US. For some, it's just another day at the office, while for others, it is a day of high anxiety and lots of money shuffling. It can be a crazy day indeed, especially if you make your living as a tax accountant. As for me, today was a day off, and this year at least, I didn't worry about my taxes because they were long since filed and paid. My only deadline is to get this blog published before the "moke of stridnight". Otherwise, I'll be penalized for publishing it too late and may have to file for an extension. No, those rules don't apply to blogging, only to paying your taxes; and thanks to the Patriots and the Founding Fathers, I may just have a cup of "tea" before I call it a day!
Thursday, April 8, 2010
I nailed it
When I was a preschooler, I remember being quite fascinated watching people fix things, especially jobs that involved carpentry. I suspect that most kids have the same innate curiosity, but I believe my interest had more of a genetic component. My grandfather, who was a carpenter by trade, undoubtedly influenced my mother who in turn provided the inspiration for her children. After years of hand sawing full sheets of plywood, I recall actually giving my mother a Black and Decker power saw for Christmas. I figured that I could make my life easier when the request for another set of shelves to be built came "across my desk". However, what good carpenter wouldn't know how to use a hammer? You are absolutely right, not one. Well, I have story to tell you about that.
Remember those little wood benches with the wooden pegs and hammer that kids used to play with from playskool? In the 60's it seemed that every youngster had one of those multi-colored objects in the toy box. You would put the pegs in and pound them through until they popped out the other side. Exciting stuff for a 2 or 3 year old. What possibly could be more exciting than that for an aspiring young carpenter? The real thing of course. My mother must have been quite courageous because she equipped me with my own tool box complete with a hammer and plenty of nails to practice my skills. The only thing missing was a place to hone those talents. I had the perfect arena for this little activity, the back yard fence. I spent hours pounding nails into the fence rails while my mother watched from her perch in the kitchen. When I ran out of nails, I'd simply start removing them and start over. If there were "real" carpenters at the house, oh boy. Not only could I watch them, but if they weren't looking, I found myself going to their "bag of nails" as well.
All of these observations, followed by the numerous questions, and then practicing simply helped me with one of my not so hidden passions, woodworking. I don't know whether it's the beauty of the finished product or partly just the enjoyment of working with my hands, but having an idea, then seeing it come to "life", sure is rewarding. And wood, with its odor right after being sawn, its intricate grain patterns, or its rich colors, now that's "delicious". Maybe that is why my high school shop teacher nick named me "the termite". Whatever the case may be, I have always loved woodworking. My passion for it started long ago, very simply perhaps, because "I nailed it". If you guessed that, then you'd have "hit the nail on the head"!
Remember those little wood benches with the wooden pegs and hammer that kids used to play with from playskool? In the 60's it seemed that every youngster had one of those multi-colored objects in the toy box. You would put the pegs in and pound them through until they popped out the other side. Exciting stuff for a 2 or 3 year old. What possibly could be more exciting than that for an aspiring young carpenter? The real thing of course. My mother must have been quite courageous because she equipped me with my own tool box complete with a hammer and plenty of nails to practice my skills. The only thing missing was a place to hone those talents. I had the perfect arena for this little activity, the back yard fence. I spent hours pounding nails into the fence rails while my mother watched from her perch in the kitchen. When I ran out of nails, I'd simply start removing them and start over. If there were "real" carpenters at the house, oh boy. Not only could I watch them, but if they weren't looking, I found myself going to their "bag of nails" as well.
All of these observations, followed by the numerous questions, and then practicing simply helped me with one of my not so hidden passions, woodworking. I don't know whether it's the beauty of the finished product or partly just the enjoyment of working with my hands, but having an idea, then seeing it come to "life", sure is rewarding. And wood, with its odor right after being sawn, its intricate grain patterns, or its rich colors, now that's "delicious". Maybe that is why my high school shop teacher nick named me "the termite". Whatever the case may be, I have always loved woodworking. My passion for it started long ago, very simply perhaps, because "I nailed it". If you guessed that, then you'd have "hit the nail on the head"!
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Signs of Spring
After a long, cold, snowy winter, I am quite sure everyone is eagerly looking for a break in the weather. In fact, one might even call it a "spring break". The signs of Spring are all around; the crocuses and daffodils are popping up, MLB season is underway, and the professional golfers are playing at The Masters. For most of us, these are the signs indicating that Spring has sprung, and boy how rejuvenating that can be. However, as we have turned the page of the calendar to April, the attention to outside activities captures our focus, and that only means one thing. The indoor tasks now will probably have to wait for a rainy day or be resumed later in the Fall.
When I was a kid, Spring meant that it was time to change from snow sports to field sports which meant putting away the toboggans and sleds and start thinking of baseball or getting out the golf clubs. However, for my mother it meant that it was time for planting. Oftentimes, my mother either went to Knapp's or Cherry Hill nursery to start the annual ritual of beautifying the yard. She'd have us unload bales of peat moss and what seemed like an infinite number of flats containing pansies, petunias, and geraniums. Occasionally the plants didn't make their way to the ground right away, but once we received the "final" ultimatum, we had little choice but to start digging. Mom was the field lieutenant, and we, including my Dad, carried out her landscaping strategies. I must say, however, she always was the benevolent taskmaster, so if we were successful in our efforts, the "yard boss" would reward us through her work for food program. Eventually, she gave each of us our own area of the flower bed to groom and cultivate which has proven to reap huge returns for all of us.
Yes, Spring is a time for planting, yet the results of the hard work can sometimes take more than just a season to realize. However, with the proper instruction, the right mix of nutrients and care, then followed by a generous dose of sunshine called TLC in this case, the end result can certainly yield a beautiful garden. Thanks Mom for having such a "green thumb" and the patience to help cultivate the in residence gardeners to their full potential!
When I was a kid, Spring meant that it was time to change from snow sports to field sports which meant putting away the toboggans and sleds and start thinking of baseball or getting out the golf clubs. However, for my mother it meant that it was time for planting. Oftentimes, my mother either went to Knapp's or Cherry Hill nursery to start the annual ritual of beautifying the yard. She'd have us unload bales of peat moss and what seemed like an infinite number of flats containing pansies, petunias, and geraniums. Occasionally the plants didn't make their way to the ground right away, but once we received the "final" ultimatum, we had little choice but to start digging. Mom was the field lieutenant, and we, including my Dad, carried out her landscaping strategies. I must say, however, she always was the benevolent taskmaster, so if we were successful in our efforts, the "yard boss" would reward us through her work for food program. Eventually, she gave each of us our own area of the flower bed to groom and cultivate which has proven to reap huge returns for all of us.
Yes, Spring is a time for planting, yet the results of the hard work can sometimes take more than just a season to realize. However, with the proper instruction, the right mix of nutrients and care, then followed by a generous dose of sunshine called TLC in this case, the end result can certainly yield a beautiful garden. Thanks Mom for having such a "green thumb" and the patience to help cultivate the in residence gardeners to their full potential!
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Easter, a Basket Full of Memories
Easter Sunday was always a much anticipated holiday when we were growing up. Of course, it marks the end of Lent, and this meant that it was time to turn in our Lenten Mite boxes. We undoubtedly had spent more time in church during Holy Week than at any other time of the year. My sisters would likely be getting new dresses and hats for Easter Sunday services. However, even though Easter is the most sacred of holidays, we were going to be placing our baskets out for the Easter bunny, a tradition that dates back to the 1700s with the German settlers to Pennsylvania.
Unlike Christmas, Easter generally was associated with much less pre-holiday preparation. My sisters, brothers, and I would set our baskets near the fireplace the night before, and except for a few nick knacks my Mom put out, there was very little else done in terms of decorating. Given the nature of the day, that was just fine.
There are several things that come to my mind when I reflect back on Easters past. Following the traditional Sunday church service, we would likely head to "The Hungry Traveler" on the beach road for brunch. Sitting down with the entire family was quite literally a miracle in the making, because we oftentimes did this with several families. If we didn't go out for brunch, then the monumental task of feeding the masses fell on the shoulders of the hosts and their guests, the original BYOB (bring your own brunch). When my grandparents were living, we could always count on them to come for the big family sit down dinner.
An Easter celebration wouldn't be complete without the annual Easter egg hunt. Provided the weather was accommodating, this would have been an outdoor activity. There were lots of brightly colored eggs and some even had some cold hard cash.
In all, the day would typically have been filled with plenty of family oriented activities and a few "cream" filled eggs. The balsa wood airplanes, kites, bubbles, or other trinkets provided a seemingly endless amount of entertainment. The decorated eggs, which we prepared so carefully, weren't wasted either, as they made for some interesting colors of egg salad which we brought in our school lunches later that week. Yes, Holy Week was capped off with an Easter celebration that more than made up for the sacrifices of Lent. Yes, Easter was and still is a day for rejoicing!
Unlike Christmas, Easter generally was associated with much less pre-holiday preparation. My sisters, brothers, and I would set our baskets near the fireplace the night before, and except for a few nick knacks my Mom put out, there was very little else done in terms of decorating. Given the nature of the day, that was just fine.
There are several things that come to my mind when I reflect back on Easters past. Following the traditional Sunday church service, we would likely head to "The Hungry Traveler" on the beach road for brunch. Sitting down with the entire family was quite literally a miracle in the making, because we oftentimes did this with several families. If we didn't go out for brunch, then the monumental task of feeding the masses fell on the shoulders of the hosts and their guests, the original BYOB (bring your own brunch). When my grandparents were living, we could always count on them to come for the big family sit down dinner.
An Easter celebration wouldn't be complete without the annual Easter egg hunt. Provided the weather was accommodating, this would have been an outdoor activity. There were lots of brightly colored eggs and some even had some cold hard cash.
In all, the day would typically have been filled with plenty of family oriented activities and a few "cream" filled eggs. The balsa wood airplanes, kites, bubbles, or other trinkets provided a seemingly endless amount of entertainment. The decorated eggs, which we prepared so carefully, weren't wasted either, as they made for some interesting colors of egg salad which we brought in our school lunches later that week. Yes, Holy Week was capped off with an Easter celebration that more than made up for the sacrifices of Lent. Yes, Easter was and still is a day for rejoicing!
Friday, April 2, 2010
The Family Curse
There are some things that are explained by science, some things by happenstance, and of course, there is the familial component, the genetic link. Often times we think of medical illnesses as being inherited, but in the case of saving stuff, I think I can make a case for it being genetically linked or perhaps the family curse.
Recently, my brother and I did some cleaning at his house, as he and his wife were doing a major home renovation. As part of that project, they replaced the floor in their kitchen. The old floor boards eventually found their way into the dumpster, headed for the landfill. It killed me to see those beautiful maple floor boards heading to a "premature" grave, but I knew it was the right thing to do. Many of us are consumed by stuff, even when there is no immediate utility in sight. Often times, the stuff gets in our way and even costs us money to maintain or keep, but we simply can't part with it. I once spoke to a manager of one of those storage unit businesses, and she informed me that most of the stuff that people harbor in their storage lockers is not even worth enough for charity donation. Well, the idea of discarding that maple flooring was more that my conscience could handle. So, I found myself convincing my brother to reclaim all that discarded flooring, so we did.
In my local community, we have a Habitat for Humanity Restore, and they do just what we did, only they do it under the guise of salvage. They have made a business of reusing "gently" used goods and reselling it to benefit this worthwhile organization. It is a wonderful concept, generating money from stuff that was destined to fill our landfills. Some might even call this recycling.
Well, now that I have all of this out in the open, I must confess that it gives me more pleasure just not seeing this stuff end up in the trash than actually seeing it put to use. Perhaps this is a function of not wanting to see things wasted, or more likely, having too little time to put it to use. Regardless, maybe the next time I am about to part with an "interesting" object, I will confidently look at it and toss it into the trash. No, I possess this rare recessive genetic characteristic which causes me to suffer from the family curse, so I probably will find some lame excuse for not parting with it. As I get older, I only wish I could recapture all the time I have wasted over the years, because that is far more precious than all that stuff. Ooh, but if I had the extra time, then I could do something with all that stuff!
Recently, my brother and I did some cleaning at his house, as he and his wife were doing a major home renovation. As part of that project, they replaced the floor in their kitchen. The old floor boards eventually found their way into the dumpster, headed for the landfill. It killed me to see those beautiful maple floor boards heading to a "premature" grave, but I knew it was the right thing to do. Many of us are consumed by stuff, even when there is no immediate utility in sight. Often times, the stuff gets in our way and even costs us money to maintain or keep, but we simply can't part with it. I once spoke to a manager of one of those storage unit businesses, and she informed me that most of the stuff that people harbor in their storage lockers is not even worth enough for charity donation. Well, the idea of discarding that maple flooring was more that my conscience could handle. So, I found myself convincing my brother to reclaim all that discarded flooring, so we did.
In my local community, we have a Habitat for Humanity Restore, and they do just what we did, only they do it under the guise of salvage. They have made a business of reusing "gently" used goods and reselling it to benefit this worthwhile organization. It is a wonderful concept, generating money from stuff that was destined to fill our landfills. Some might even call this recycling.
Well, now that I have all of this out in the open, I must confess that it gives me more pleasure just not seeing this stuff end up in the trash than actually seeing it put to use. Perhaps this is a function of not wanting to see things wasted, or more likely, having too little time to put it to use. Regardless, maybe the next time I am about to part with an "interesting" object, I will confidently look at it and toss it into the trash. No, I possess this rare recessive genetic characteristic which causes me to suffer from the family curse, so I probably will find some lame excuse for not parting with it. As I get older, I only wish I could recapture all the time I have wasted over the years, because that is far more precious than all that stuff. Ooh, but if I had the extra time, then I could do something with all that stuff!
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