On Top of the Hill at Locke's Ski Tow

The calendar is telling us that we are closing in on the final days of winter, and fortunately, the temperatures are beginning to climb to aide with the melt off. Here in Ohio, we experienced a record amount of snowfall during the month of February, so everyone is about ready to experience some "climate" change. In spite of this year's abundant frozen precipitation, I seem to recall many winters when having more snow made us even happier because we could be outside sledding, skiing, or building snow forts. For my sister and me, all that snow meant that the local ski hill was open for business, and we were about the get our first lessons in "snow plowing".

It wasn't unusual for my folks to take my sisters, brothers, and me on a ride by the local ski hill to watch those enthusiastic Jean-Claude Killy wannabes executing their skills on the slopes. And if you were in high school, oh my goodness, you just wanted to get the chance to do some night skiing at Locke's. Well, when my sister and I were in grade school, my mother enrolled us in ski lessons through the YMCA. My oldest sister acted as the ski equipment consultant to my father as we selected skis and boots at the Mammoth Mart Department store. They were flashy red, and in those days, there were few features to the safety bindings, so once the bindings were secured, that was it. When we arrived home, we practiced putting the skis on and taking them off, right there in the living room.

We spent much of our first lesson just figuring out how to get the skis on and keep from getting too cold while doing so. Rather than using the rope tow, which I felt was a virtual death trap anyway, the instructors had us side stepping up the hill to begin our downhill experience. Lots of us fell just going up the hill, and here we were improving our position for Newtonian physics to take over. If there was ever a recipe for disaster, this was it; poles in hand, "vehicles" without brakes, gravity as a propellant, and excited parents shouting words of encouragement from below. Remarkably, no one was ever impaled or run over by the plebes of ski school. We eventually mastered the snow plow and learned to shift our weight sufficiently so that we could go all the way to the top. It was a veritable Mt. Everest to us, but we somehow managed to negotiate the terrain to the bottom, so we could do it all over again, and again, and again...!

There were a number of memories from our time on the hill, but one in particular I remember quite well. During one of the early lessons, the instructor showed us how to turn ourselves around simply by reversing one ski then the other. Naturally, she made it appear quite simple, but for us, it took some practice. My sister and I practiced that drill, seemingly forever, and ultimately, we both mastered the it. More importantly however, it illustrated a very key point to life for me. If you don't like the way you're headed, just stop and change direction, because it may just keep you from skiing off the trail and into the woods. Thanks for being there when I've been off course, and then encouraging me after getting myself redirected. You have been there with me for those trips both up and down the hill more than I can count. And just one more thing. If we play our cards right, I think we'll have enough time for several more "runs". Happy Birthday MT, and when I see you next time, it'll be my treat for dinner and a milk shake!

Training for Life

My brother and I recently attended a conference in Boston, and one of the most poignant points while at the conference came from a lecture on wellness. The amount of exercise recommended to help reduce all cause mortality was as little as 25-30 minutes of aerobic exercise daily. This was considered sufficient to reduce one's risk of dying from such things as heart disease. obesity, and even some cancers, by as much as 50% It was rather striking information, and one that left us questioning, "why don't people just start exercising more?" I suppose, if we had the answer to that one, we probably would be in line for some "noble" prize.

Let's take a minute to dissect this concept just a little. 25-30 minutes of moderate aerobic exercise on a daily basis, how hard can that be? Finding the time becomes the real "challenge" for most of us, but if your life depends on it, maybe you should reconsider. 30 minutes? That is likely to be at least the amount of time that each one of us watches TV each day, sits reading the paper while having that morning cup of joe, or even the amount of time it takes to commute to and from work. Granted, we may still have to accomplish these other tasks, but if you make a concerted effort to economize on the use use of your time, I think most of us could come up with the requisite time.

I have been asked on a number of occasions just what am I training for, and my answer generally is...life. Sure, I love participating in organized races to face the competition, but it is no longer about winning and losing. It is all about surviving life and enjoying the quality of its offerings. How can you enjoy it, if you are not "training" for it? My brother has a sign in his office that reads, "exercise 25-30 minutes a day or be dead 24 hours a day, you choose". That just about says it all for me.

Perhaps none of this sends the real message for which it is intended, but essentially, we all need to make a personal commitment to ourselves. No one else is going to do it for us, at least a far as exercise goes, and there has yet to be a wonder drug that fulfills this fundamental survival skill. So, let's get it in gear, any gear for now, and keep on moving. However, it's your life, so you can do with it what you want. But as for me, I'm going to continue training for life, because when it's all over, I can sleep forever!

Fish on Fridays, not just for Lent where I come from

Now that we are in the season of Lent, most Catholics traditionally will abstain from meat on Fridays. There has been some controversy just where this tradition of abstinence came from, but now that fish has been considered more of a delicacy, it hardly seems like a sacrifice to pass on the beef. Well, I may be able to shed some insight into why some families have fish on Fridays.

I recall quite vividly when my older brother went off to college. He had done very well in high school and thought that he'd like to attend a smaller school so that he could continue his basketball career. Hamilton College in Upstate NY was his first choice, but after some "soul" searching, he picked up the trail left by his 2 older sisters. When he was moving into the dorm, someone dropped a set of dumbbells out of the window crashing into a nearby parked car. I was concerned that this might have been an omen for his college career, but that first experience with college life, didn't deter him from becoming the professional he is today.

Since he was the first son to head off to college, I think my mother always felt she should do something special for him when he came home. You know, like the prodigal son. Naturally, he and my sister would usually come home weekends, starting with Friday night. She would typically ask him what he wanted for dinner, something special of course. Generally, my Mom would fix his favorite, scallops. She had her own recipe to bread them before popping them into the oven. So, if my brother was coming home, it was scallops for dinner...Fish on Fridays.

Although the tradition for fish on Fridays is observed primarily during Lent, I dare say that Fridays, any time of the year, could be nights where the Omega 3's are flowing aplenty. Certainly in the case of my brother's visits home, it didn't matter whether it was Lent or at any other time of year, we were having scallops when he was coming home. "Shellfishly", I was even more thankful to see my older brother because scallops just happen to be one of my favorites too. Thanks Lawrence Arturo!

"Pump it up" and become "BOG"s

Arnold Schwarzenegger popularized the line, "pump it up", during a guest host appearance on SNL a number of years ago. Since that time, whenever anyone talks of weight lifting, I can almost hear his thick German accent saying those words and then hearing them echo in my mind. In spite of not having a fondness for pumping iron all these years, I now have to admit that weight training sure does have some benefits.

My friends and I have recently incorporated some rather basic weight training into our weekly exercise routine of triathlon's 3 disciplines, running, biking, and swimming. During the winter months and even challenging the temperature cut off, we still typically don't get as much bike training, as we do the others. Bearing this in mind, we all now have come to the conclusion that our little rendezvous with the weight machines has proven invaluable to our overall strength and conditioning. I actually never had subscribed to this, simply because we were faithfully engaging in these other activities, and I thought that was adequate enough strength training by itself. Alas, my old high school AD, Mr. D. Wood, was right; weight training is beneficial, however it may be valuable beyond just for playing football, which was his contention.

As most of us have eclipsed the half century milestone, hitting the weight room has proven quite utilitarian indeed. Mind you, I did not say "Herculean", and those "performance enhancing drugs" advertised for old guys like us have a very different desired clinical response. So, with the addition of just a little weight training to our other "activities of daily living", I am now a convert to its benefits. We are becoming "buff old guys", but please, let me have my afternoon nap!

Stars of the day, who will they be?

Remember the old talent show, Community Opticians? It aired on Sunday mornings in the Boston area along with "The Adventures of Gumby and Pokey". In the "old days", we didn't have the wide selection of choices that the networks provide today. The closing melody from Community Opticians went like this:

Star of the day, who will it be? Your vote may hold the key.
It's up to you, to tell us who, will be star of the day.

After the show, you'd be asked to vote on your favorite act. Nowadays, you'd probably be asked to "txt" using a cell phone, but back then, you wrote in or perhaps called on the old rotary phone and the "winners" would be announced the following week. So, on Sundays following the 8:30 mass, you could count on my sisters to lay claim to the one TV in order to watch their program.

After a long courtship and subsequent marriage, my sister-in-law and brother announced that they were expecting twins. This was fantastic news because they were an older couple by some standards or at least my brother was, and this news was about to change their lives forever. When Mother Nature finally started labor, it was the 1st of March. This was an omen because each family already had a set of twins whose birthday was on the 1st. However, after some 48 hours of "labor", Miss Pickslix arrived at the dance, and due to a genetically linked gene from his father, Chachi came some 2 hours later. Fortunately, the whole family was healthy and well. Although a severe snow storm had hit while they were in the hospital, mom and dad were determined to get their newborns home. As I recall, when they arrived on Sparhawk St., they had to hoist them over some very large snow banks to even get them into the house, and their mother literally followed "behind", due to her anemically low blood count.

Now that the "boy" and the "girl" have grown up some, they have started school, ride the bus, play baseball, basketball, and attend swim and dance lessons. Miss Picks has even been known to help Grandpa with his insulin shots, a Florence Nightingale in the making.

Recently we watched an old movie together, "The Court Jester" with Danny Kaye, and I was reminded just how bright these two kids are. They were able to repeat his famous lines which go like this, "the vessel with the pestle has the pellet with the poison, and the chalice from the palace has the brew that is true". They could recite that little jingle in no time at all. Youth, what a wonderful thing. Happy Birthday you "jesters", and remember, you two will always be "stars" in my eyes!

Who wants to go on a Moose Ride?

Have you ever seen a moose in the wilderness? They are gangly looking quadripeds, but in a strange way, they are also quite adorable. In spite of their intimidating size, they are vegetarians and can float because of the hollow nature of their fur, remarkable for animals that can routinely weigh in excess of 1,000 lbs. For the members of my family, these night "walkers" have been an intrigue for generations.

When we were young kids, we didn't know of that place we call Rangeley, but we all knew of Black River and Uncle Willy's. My grandfather came from New Brunswick, Canada, and just outside of the city of St. John was his family's homestead, the "old sod" in Black River. We'd head down to Canada maybe 2 or 3 times a year for some international diplomacy. The itinerary was fairly typical, take the Maine turnpike to Bangor and stop to see Paul Bunyan, then follow the airline route to the border crossing at St. Stephen, and then on to St. John, crossing the reversing falls outside of the city. The first stop was a visit to the Owens girls to share a cup of tea. While my mother and the uncles caught up on the family news, we'd play with our trucks in their long hallway. From here, we'd begin the final push to Uncle Willy's. I always knew we were close when we passed the I R V I N G oil tanks, with the flame burning above the refinery, then past the airport at Loch Lomond, and finally on to those infamous dirt roads. We were going back in time when we'd go to Black River. Once we turned on to Duffy road, you knew it wouldn't be long, and you could sense the excitement in the car. It was usually late, so when we pulled into the "grass" driveway, we often times had to use the car head lights to see the rest of the way. After climbing through the window into Uncle Willy's bedroom, we then had the task of turning on the electricity. That necessitated going upstairs and climbing into this crawl space to throw the switch. I think it was even scary for my uncles. However, once we all unpacked and got the wood burning stove going, we could finally settle in for the night.

We filled our days by playing and fishing in the creek below the house, picking cranberries on the back hill, or just poking around the older farm house at Austin's. But after a full day and dinner, there was always the anticipation of a ride to Wallace's for ice cream or a trip up the Duffy road past Collin's to look for moose. My uncles always loved to take us on those moose rides, although I can't really remember ever seeing one.

A generation later now, we start by heading up the Maine turnpike, the usual stop at Gifford's in Farmington for ice cream and then the unpacking at the Saddleback Lake Lodge. For you younger members of the family, does this pattern of activity sound at all familiar? It seems strangely similar to those trips we made to Black River, only a generation removed. Now the in-laws, my siblings, and I constitute the tour guides for those trips to Pine Tree Frosty for ice cream, followed by a moose ride up the Saddleback Hill road. Of course, we have seen our share of moose over the years, mostly in Maine and perhaps in Black River, but the very excitement and anticipation of going on those moose rides, remain the same. From generation to generation, it's our traditions that we pass along which enrich those memories from our lives. I don't know about any of you, but let's get an ice cream and head on up the hill for a moose ride. Anyone interested in going?

Truly a double take

Recall the old commercials for Doublemint gum? Generally, they would feature a pair of identical twins, dressed similarly and speaking simultaneously during the advertisement. At the time it was, I'm sure, considered quite an innovative piece of marketing. It made an impression on me, because I still remember it. Well, I know a set of twins that weren't part of that advertising campaign, but they sure could have been.

My older brother and his wife were anticipating the arrival of their newborns, and in those final days of her confinement, the doctors did several ultrasounds to monitor the prenatal health of the babies. Remarkably for twins, their estimated combined weight was comparable to 2, well sized, term infants. I still marvel at how my sister-in-law was able to manage under the circumstances. By ultrasound, the doctor felt reasonably certain that the expectant parents were having twin boys, so they were ready with their choices for names.

Lo and behold, "D" day came, but instead of two boys, they became the proud parents of 2 "strapping", newborn baby girls, weighing in at 7 lbs, 15 oz. and 8 lbs, 1 oz. respectively. 16 pounds of bouncing babies, how did my sister-in-law do it? I could only imagine the reaction of the new parents, perhaps a double take.

Over the years, I have witnessed the development and success of these 2 young ladies. They have accomplished much and excelled, regardless of what they have undertaken. They were part of a state champion basketball team which made both of their parents proud, especially their basketball playing Dad. I couldn't imagine what life would have been like if they'd been boys, but more importantly, I can't imagine life without those two, wonderful nieces. Happy birthday S&A. I will say that again, and in this case, I most decidedly have "two"!