Snow Day! 1966

"I remember..."  

Ahhhh. what a great way to start a poem, short story, or a post dinner time with wine/beer and friends.  The fact that I am older and the older memories come easier than the ones from last week make these stories more interesting (for me at least!)  Here's one that may start a chain on the Big Board during these first snowy days of Winter 2015-16:

Back in high school, Springfield High School, Montgomery County, Pennsylvania, (year? - 1966) when we were at that perfect age of 17-18, we couldn't wait for the snow to cancel school.  Especially on a Friday!  FOUR of us would get into Bob Fazzzina's VW bug and drive over to a certain package store where we would easily bribe a certain favorite adult to buy us beer.  With a full case of Budweiser or Schmidts we would then go out and patrol for drivers stuck in the snow.  When we found them we would all jump out of the car and bodily lift or push them and their car out of the drift or snowbank.  There were several different results:

1. They would open their window and thank us profusely, sometimes with cash,
2. They would stop the car, get out and thank us,
3. They would spin their wheels, covering us with snow and slush and just drive off!

Hoping for the first option, we would then go buy more beer and continue our good samaritan adventures. All of this took place in small towns just North of Philadelphia like Flourtown, Oreland, Erdenheim, Wyndmoor, and Chestnut Hill (these were the big tippers)

When Bob's VW got stuck, the four of us could easily lift it up and push it forward.  Remember the bumpers?  Perfect handles!

If we couldn't find anyone, two guys would hang on to the rear bumpers and Bob would take off and drag us around until someone fell off.  Great times to remember!

Tom C - Lincolnville Beach, Maine - 12/30/15

 (time to go out and snow-blow the driveway...soon)

"Gloria"_a true story - Hunger in Maine is real

Gloria

Her cart was empty

No food this week

Hannafords lights were  on

She was one of the meek.

Swallowing pride

Tasted bitter, again

Nothing else in her stomach

Help may come, but when?

She had just one number

To call if she needed

Alex answered the first time

Cries for help always heeded.

“I need food” she mumbled

“OK, tell me where”

“Hannaford’s, Camden”

“I’m in Searsport. Stay there”

“Wait, the Food Pantry is near

Can you get there soon?”

“I can walk and I will

Meet you there by the moon”

When they got there

They saw she had just a cart.

Homeless in Camden?

It broke Tatum’s heart.

Alex and Tatum took Gloria

And her cart

To the Food Pantry near

To give her a start.

Hospitality House said

“Bring Gloria here,

We can help her a lot

She has nothing to fear”

They took Gloria in

The Pantry stocked her with food

Alex and Tatum

Felt pretty good.

The next day the phone rang

“Gloria’s gone”

Alex was shocked

What could have gone wrong?

He left her with food

They took her to a hotel

“She was fine when we left her

I think all went well.”

Gloria left her small cart behind

She walked off that same evening

Last words:

“Everything’s fine”

Maine is a place

Where everywhere is home

We are proud of that view

We take care of our own.

But Gloria slipped

Through a small crack in time

Now we worry about

Who else we left behind…

The only solution

Is biblical and true:

Take care of each other

The other could be you.

Tom Crowley – 12/18/15

Based on the true experience of three people who met by chance and were forever changed. 

My plan is to turn this into a one-act play to be performed by students at our local high school

in the Fall of 2016 to raise awareness and funds to help fight hunger in Maine.

Key Number 45

I found a key in my drawer.  It was attached to a green plastic keytag thing with a clear window on a key chain. The tag read "45"...That's all. There were 7 or 8 other keys there too.  KRYPTONITE, MASTER, YAKIMA, EXCEL, but I knew what they were all for.  But what about Key # 45?

Where did it belong? What does it unlock?  It says STEEL PRO on it. Naturally I GOOGLED "STEEL PRO" and got something strange and scary:

Steel-Pro is a custom manufacturer of ASME pressure vessels, biopharmaceutical equipment, modular skids, vacuum chambers, storage tanks and other custom designed equipment and stainless steel applications. Industries served include biopharmaceutical, semiconductor, alternative energy, power generation, and other industrial applications.

Steel-Pro’s clients consist of well-established and industry leading firms that require exceptional precision and quality engineered components delivered on time and at competitive prices.

WTF?  I do not remember having anything like this!  Vacuum chambers, storage tanks, ASME pressure vessels, ?  These applications were foreign to me, too.  I know, I will ask my wife, Lucy, she remembers everything.

"Lucy!  what is this key number 45 with STEEL PRO on it for?"
Silence.
"Lucy?"
Nothing. Where is she now?  I guess I will go and find her.

Locking the basement door, for safety first, I went upstairs to our bedroom, calling out her name as I climbed the stairs;
"Lucy!!! Where are you?

Nothing. total silence. Then, a muffled sound like something under water,  then, a scratching sound and a whimper.  WTF?

I went into the bedroom. Bed was made, clothes put away. Silent order.  No light shone through frosted windowpanes, covered with dark pull-down shades.  I looked towards the closet.  Padlock was in place, combination lock intact.  Quiet inside when I pressed my ear to the door.  As I moved away from the closet I noticed something in the corner of my eye. Blood on the door where I had pressed my ear.  Strange.  I looked for the mirror that always hung in the hallway, leading to the other bedrooms, all empty this time of year.  No mirror.  I touched my left ear and pulled my hand away to look at it. Nothing. Then the right ear. Blood. Dried flakes and fresh blood too.

"LUCY!!  Where the fuck are you! I am bleeding! "
Nothing at all. No answer.

I found a small hand mirror in the bathroom. Old fake gold handle, regular mirror on one side, magnified on the other side.  I held it up to my face using the magnified side as I always did because it makes me bigger.  It makes everything bigger.  I liked that.  I looked at my huge right ear and saw the blood dripping out onto my vest and bare shoulder.  Cool.  I looked like a tough MMF fighter just out of the cage!  Awesome.  Where is that fucking Lucy?  She HAS to see this.

to be continued...end here at 8:54 am on Wednesday 12/16/15

The Best Man

The Best Man

My son, Tom, called me while I was in New Orleans back in 2005.  I had lost my job in Boston and fly down there to help my brother with his business.  It was a few months after Katrina hit and the town was a mess.  I worked as a carpenter, floor sander, painter, then as an insurance adjuster.  It was hot, dirty, disgusting work and at night we would sit out on the sidewalk at a bar on Magazine Street, waving flies off our food as Humvees full of National Guardsmen drove by, fully armed, to look for looters.

Then, my son called me and asked me to be his best man at his wedding and if I could drive up to Atlanta for his bachelor party. I was blown away and drove up there in a rented car trying not to cry for the joy and pride of it all.

My own father once said to me, in all seriousness, yet with a smug laugh and a sneer, just after my son, Tommy, was born;

“You couldn’t be father to a cat”

He was wrong. I was and am a good father and I have a great son to prove it.

FTC – remembering in 2015

(I have been blessed with a fantastic daughter, Elizabeth, and now have FIVE grandchildren (Lochlan and Aria from Tommy and Melody, and Leo, Sammy, and Peter from Biz and Andy) to play with. They call me Gaga and Grandaa. awesome)

My 1960's Show

In 1960 I turned 12. I already had a rap sheet about 10 pages long and had been arrested for B&E but they never got me for shoplifting or robbing that post office in Barnegat Light on Long Beach Island in 1959 when I was 11.  I went back and they put bells on the wooden cash drawer for security.  I left and hitchhiked back to Ship Bottom.

In 1961 I was just 13, 1962 - 14, 1963 - 15 and 1964, the big year for me, I was arrested with Danny Ferguson for "Grand Theft Auto" in May, 1964 while I was still only 15.:

1. Springfield Police Department
2. Montgomery Hall
1. May 13, 1964 until July, 1964
2. Solitary confinement - 2-3 weeks
3. 6 by 9 cell upstairs
4. Pyramus and Thesbe on the pipes
5. The Joy of Reading
6. Kid Pyro
7. Runaway girl
8. jeans and jean short
9. slippers
10. stale rice kispies and skim milk
3. Miflinburg.PA - Dairy Farm
1. Ernie & Linda Rittenhouse
2. little girl - went to Penn State later
3. Driving that 49 Ford pickup
4. Shooting pigeons in the barn
5. My own tractor! - International Harvester Farmall Model C
6. Mennonite church
7. Getting confirmed
8. Turning 16
9. horny as hell
10. Neighbor girls
11. Amish girls
12. 
    

CPR (Chicken Parmesan Risotto)

Chicken Parmesan Risotto (CPR)

One night Phil said:

“Arlene? Can you cook chicken?”

She turned on the stove

As this story plot thickens.

She just learned CPR

And she wanted to cook

As the oven got hotter

She decided to look.

Hmmm…looks kind of dry

Oh well, Phil doesn’t mind

And he’s willing to try

She served it up well

And Phil took a bite

He turned sort of blue

This did not look right.

He grabbed at his throat

This looked like a sign

Then she remembered

CPR!  Just in time!

She turned Phil around

And squeezed him quite hard

She thought; “What if he pukes?”

They moved to the yard.

Phil was still blue

And was getting restless

Lack of oxygen does that

And can leave you breathless.

At last, Arlene won

The chicken ejected

Phil was almost normal

New dinner plans selected

Shall we eat out tonight?

Phil suggested with candor

Call Tom & Nelle, but

Tell them “NOT Colonel Sanders!”

  

From Tom & Nelle,

After Boothbay Harbor Visit

with Phil & Arlene Perlman

July 14, 2015

The Last Mackerel

The Last Mackerel

The engine starts in my old boat

Reluctantly, as the hydraulic steering

Kicks in with a bang.

We make our way, the same way now

For weeks. Scanning the fish-finder,

My brother swears its on “Demo” mode

As the blips indicate a fish or two.

We fish with everything we have and can buy

But there are no more fish.

The screen is empty for miles…Then, a stronger image

Appears.  We jig and dip Christmas tree rigs

And finally, my grandson pulls up a fish

It is the mackerel we have been seeking

He is alone and small and weak

We jiggle the hook from his jaws

And release him, fearing he may be

The Last Mackerel.

FTC – Summer, 2015

Off Ducktrap in “Big Red”, our 1972 Beals Island Lobsterboat

The Empty Bowl

The Empty Bowl

The blueberries were ready

The potatoes done

Elizabeth’s mouth watered

Dinner would be fun!

She sat at her place

At the well-scrubbed table

Fork at the ready

She was hungry and able.

Her father was worried

About the rent that was due

The crops had been meager

The season was through.

He loaded the wagon

With the spuds and the berries

And headed for town

Brow creased with old worries.

Through the window

She saw him drive down the lane

She looked down at her bowl

Hunger pains now in vain.

Her mother dabbed at her eyes

Damp eyes on her broom

Then she covered the bowl

And walked from the room.

Tom Crowley

August 23, 2015

Lincolnville Beach, Maine

Prescription: Canis Lupus Familiaris

Introduction:

A few years ago, there was a large dog in the window of a small, locally-owned coffee shop named “Zoot’s”Café in Camden, Maine.  He always brought his man friend with him, too.  One day the man was alone and not too happy about leaving his dog at home.

He explained to me that a law requiring that ONLY "service" dogs in stores had to be enforced by the owners of the coffee shop and that his dog had to stay home.

I thought to myself; What if his DOCTOR wrote him a prescription requiring that the dog remain with him at all times?  So I wrote this poem for them that same day while at The Brass Compass restaurant in Rockland, Maine:

Rx: “Canis Lupus Familiaris”

Prescription:     

 “ Take one large dog, keep it with you all day, sleep with it at night, and call me in the morning”

 

He really didn’t need a dog.
His life was full, alone
But this time it was different
As he took the big boy home.

At first, they stared in wonder
“Who are you?” “Why am I here?”
He wondered if it was a mistake
But, soon, it became quite clear.

They each needed someone, closer.
Yet neither could ever choose.
One, the larger, lacking speech
The other, seeking a muse.

Now both are happy joined
At hip, in car, in bed.
No words need be spoken
Just a touch on a velvet head.

Things change as time and laws evolve

Most dogs are not always welcome.

The separation hurt them both

lonelier than before and then some.

He had to leave the big boy home

As he pursued career.
Depression grew in both of them
Concern grew into fear.

He went to see the Doctor.
He brought the dog along.
He never needed help before,
He just knew something was wrong.

The Doctor looked at the man
Then, down at the hound.
He had never seen a sadder case
He put his stethoscope down.

“I see the problem clearly”
The Doctor said with heart.
You two must be together
Both fail when kept apart.

He then picked up prescription pad
And wrote a single line:
“Take this dog with you everywhere.”
You both will be just fine!

F. Thomas Crowley, Jr.

Written at The Brass Compass restaurant

Rockland, Maine

2008

While You Were Away

While You Were Away…

While you were away, the snow came down

Covering the path to your house.

I tried to clear it for your return

But stopped to watch a mouse.

He lives under the tarp that covers my wood

And I never see him out in the snow

He knows that danger awaits outside

In the form of a huge, black crow.

The crow waits up in the old oak tree

That shelters our path in season

I feed him first, favoring crow to gull

Not clear on my rhyme or reason.

They saw each other briefly

The crow shifted claw on branch

The mouse froze on the snowy path

Dare he take the chance?

It was my fault, having tossed the bread

That I made the day before

Onto the path to your house

I had thrown it from the door.

The sky was blue between the clouds

All three of us stared out to sea

In a flash the crow dove for bread or mouse

The mouse moved faster than me.

The bread was gone, the mouse had won

The crow circled over the barn

I returned to my shovel to clear the path

Thankful none had come to harm.

While you were away, the snow came down

And you missed this winter’s play

When you come back I will tell you this tale

Next year…perhaps you will stay?

Tom Crowley

March 14, 2015

Lincolnville Beach, Maine

Road Rules: India vs Maine (from 2001)

India vs. Maine

(same for Mississippi...sort of)

In a 2001 Downeast magazine, there was an article about driving in Maine. It then suggested some fine points about driving tips.  Having just returned from India, I decided that a “point-counterpoint” approach might be amusing: 

Maine –

It is OK to turn right on red, after making a complete stop

India –

There are no lights, red, green, yellow, nothing. Just honk your horn many times and turn at any time.

Maine –

Please use your turn signals

India –

There is no need to use turn signals. Simply watch the person in front of you to see which way they might turn. Then, go around them, honking enthusiastically.

Maine –

Pedestrians have the right of way.

India –

Cows have the right of way. Pedestrians usually stay out of the road. If you see one, it is considered polite to honk your honk several times before or after you hit them.

Maine –

The breakdown lane is for cars that are actually broken down, not for a shortcut to the next exit.

India –

There are no lanes.  A breakdown “lane” would be any area occupied by a vehicle which has not moved for several hours or a cow which has decided to stop while crossing the street.

Maine –

The Passing Lane is used to overtake other cars which might be moving more slowly than you.  Please stay out of this lane if you are just cruising.

India –

I repeat, there are no lanes.  Usually, seven or eight vehicles will be randomly stretched across a roadway one-half the size of Route 1.  To pass another vehicle, motorbike, or gas-powered, three-wheeled rickshaw, simply go around them on either side, honking wildly, but with a courteous, respectful tone.

Maine –

Roadside attractions should be visited by using your turn signal, pulling over to the right and moving well clear of the road.

India –

The entire country is a roadside attraction. There is no need to pull over, simply slow down, roll down your window, and visit with the nearest individual or attraction.  The rest of the world will understand and honk encouragingly as they pass you on either side.

Maine –

Horns are considered rude and disturb the tranquility of wildlife or slow moving traffic on I-95.  Please pretend you don’t have one.

India –

Horns are more important than brakes, turn-signals, or gas.  They should be used continuously, though with a distinct pattern or sequence, not unlike Morse Code.  They send a series of messages which must be interpreted by the person in front of you:

1. Hello there!  How’s it going?
2. I’m right behind you,
3. Was that arm gesture a turn signal or are you just glad to see me?
4. Holy cow on the; right, left or in front of me,
5. I would like to pass you on your right or left, so keep your eyes peeled,
6. I am now passing you,
7. Thanks for letting me pass you,
8. Nice car, motorbike, motorcycle, rickshaw, etc.
9. Are you turning or just weaving through the traffic.
10. Have a nice day,
11. Have a heart attack,
12.  See you tonight at the _______________!! –

Maine - 

Road rage is not acceptable and is a clear sign that you have been in Maine less than 3 hours. 

India –

There is no road rage whatsoever.  Everyone is friendly and sociable with a great attitude.  Heavy traffic is a good time to visit or socialize.  Dead stop traffic is always a great time to meditate or practice your deep breathing.

Maine –

Always stop for cows in the road.

India –

Same rule.  But, if you have any snacks in the car, share them with the cow. He could be your great-great-great grandfather.

Have fun and drive safely, wherever you go!

Tom Crowley

Lincolnville, Maine

Upon returning from a trip to Bangalore, India.

June 23, 2001

Reviewed and found good on 3/13/15 - 

Fly Free

First fly of the season

Cast on a new spring day.

Tied without rhyme or reason

Over winter, sun far away.

The river wasn’t waiting

The fish didn’t really care

But for me this day was important

I knew I had to be there.

Sometimes we curse the darkness,

Often we curse the snow

But winter is a time for reflection

On those things that make the river flow.

You can’t break through the surface

When the ice is two feet thick

But soon you will find the water

Now cast your fly, do it quick.

We all face frozen places

In nature, at work, and in love

Patience and kindness melt hearts and ice

If you ask, seek, knock above.

Tom Crowley

VA Togus, 3/12/15

The Big Board

The Big Board

If you lose a cat or break your leg

Put it on the board.

Good people come out of nowhere

And their gifts are your reward.

Ice dams, massage or recipes

Are shared with equal weight

Like a party line from the 50’s

The response is universally great.

Neighbors helping neighbors

Friends meeting new friends on line

The feeling you get when you join this cub

Is both new and old…,sublime.

This is the way it’s supposed to be

And the way it used to be

When neighbors helped their neighbor

Sharing both joy and misery!

Let’s keep it going as the papers disappear

We can embrace this newer way

And share our news both good and bad

Like we did just yesterday.

FTC

Written about the Lincolnville Bulletin Board - after asking neighbors if they had a pair of crutches I could borrow or buy after breaking my kneecap.  The response was over 20 offers and then a free pair of crutches were DELIVERED to my house.  Amazing Grace in Maine

The Lottery - We All Can Win

The Lottery

Raising children is a lot like buying lottery tickets.  However, you have to buy one every day and they never announce a winner.  Never miss a day telling your children that you love them.  This gets easier with practice and it doesn’t have to be with words.  We all will be winners.

Eagle Lake Sporting Camps_2015 Blog

Sunset at the Eagle Lake Sporting Camps

A few days at the Eagle Lake Sporting Camps in Northern Maine will heal the body and mind as the experience take you back in time to when excellence in service, food, and friendship were standards kept in high regard.  Whether you go there to hunt, fish, meditate or just mellow out you will manage to end the day by a pristine, quiet lake where eagles and falcons soar overhead and the sunrise illuminates a beaver’s wake approaching a favorite grass bed.

My first visit there enabled me to enjoy the company of my friend and brother in law of over 40 years as we fished the lake and nearby tributaries for brook trout hiding behind beaver dams by day and savored gourmet meals and a nice bourbon by the lakeside fire as the sun went down.  Climbing into bed at midnight back at our 100 year old log cabin with birch bark wall covering and gas lighting we traveled back in time to the days when Teddy Roosevelt and his pals walked these grounds.  We will go back again and again, bringing our spouses, children, and grandchildren to share and extend the experience.

Thank you Alan, Gloria, Nathan, Jon & Jake for the opportunity to spend some quality time with you all!

Tom Crowley, Lincolnville Beach and Jake Garofalo, New Orleans,

Trip to Eagle Lake Sporting Camps, August, 2014

Waiting for The Snow

Waiting for MORE Snow!

Waiting at dawn in Maine

For the next storms approach

I can’t help but wonder

Is this a blessing or reproach?

We love our Maine

And value the time

We spend here all year

Each season, sublime.

Summer is obvious

As tourists and friends attest

But they disappear in fall

And we get to rest.

The fall brings a chill

Warning leaves to take care

As the wind strips the branches

Leaving them cold and bare.

It’s time for a fire

Wood, pellets or gas

Heat up the stove

For an evening’s repast.

Soups, bread, and chowder

Simmer, bake and stew

Maine garden’s bounty

God’s gifts for you.

Then comes the winter,

Hunker down, shovels ready

Bundle up my friends

The snow is deep and steady.

‘Global warming’ is real

But seems like a lame phrase

When you’re freezing outside

Longing for warmer days.

As the sun goes down

Over Bald Mountain rock

Much too early

Don’t look at the clock.

We share a secret

We have earned the right

To defend Maine in winter

And savor the night.

The sun will come out

Tomorrow or soon

To warm us a little

And replace a full moon

Florida next year?

Convert wood to gas?

Let’s wait for the summer

And hope these thoughts pass!

Tom Crowley

Lincolnville Beach – February 2, 2015

Waiting for Linus (the next storm!)