Urge For Going

Darkness prevails, despite the passage of sunrise, the clouds so thick the rose rays of dawn find no breaks in the cover. Rain pelts steadily on the hatch cover echoing loudly down the vent plenum, thudding softer across the trailer roof. The autumn monsoon has begun.

Waterfowl seasons began at dawn, yesterday. SWMBO was vocally unhappy about the twenty-one shotgun salute around us as eager Nimrods blasted the ducks to smithereens in the cove. Not the case today. The weather and bombardments have driven the local quackers to seek safer, more sheltered quarters. So far, knock wood, the hunters have chosen to stay in bed this morning. Time will tell if it's warm blankets or the wet darkness that holds them in abeyance.

Downsizing

Update: Family Says News Misrepresent The Facts

The family of the dead SFB fellow who blew his mind with a fireworks mortar either did it accidentally by a stray spark or thought the mortar was a dud - see follow-up story here: http://bangordailynews.com/2015/07/06/news/down-east/father-says-son-thought-firework-that-killed-him-was-a-dud/?ref=topStories3

The unexpected death of a family member is a staggering emotional upset. My condolences to the family and friends. But the young man in question was an adult, possibly drinking and responsible for his actions. There are no do-overs in real life and his death is a vivid reminder of this fact. Fireworks are no different than a loaded gun, often containing hundreds of times the amount of black powder that a round of ammunition contains. They must be treated with the same respect and caution. There is no argument that Devon failed to exercise the appropriate amount of caution.

Newest Addition To The List

Sadly, I must report this newest addition to the infamous "Darwin List", to wit:

Calais man killed after igniting firework on his head

By Nick Sambides Jr., BDN Staff
July 05, 2015, at 10:24 a.m.
CALAIS, Maine — A local man was killed instantly Saturday when he set off a fireworks mortar tube on his head, despite efforts his friends made to stop him, state police said Sunday.

I guess you just can't teach common sense to some people.

We'll be seeing you in all the familiar places...

It is with great sadness that we mark the passing of our neighbor of thirty eight years, Barbara McGowen. We were truly blessed when she moved into the ville.

Happy April Fools

Sixteen years ago today, on a balmy spring morning as forsythias set buds and newly emerged grass greened the ugly gray of the more typical Maine early spring, a small gathering of folks at Cascade Park's gazebo looked out over the wreckage of the old Bangor Hydro-Electric flume stocks. The couple standing in the former home of the Bangor Souza Band joined fingers and lives.
It pleases me to remember that day, the celebratory meal at Paul's Restaurant and Speakeasy, and the honeymoon siesta that followed. 

Here's hope there are another sixteen in me, m'dear.

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Johnny Jump Up

Now THAT'S what I call Wearing Of The Green!

It's Saint Patrick's Day here in the United States. Unlike the Emerald Isle, the snakes are out in full force and I worry each and every time I let the dog out. It's also traditional here to drink oneself silly on this day. AN activity I may no longer participate in as the consequences are dire. Where normal folk eventually conclude they have had enough, I can only say, "Another round, barkeep." Even if I've fallen off my barstool a half dozen times already. Then there is the pugilism streak. Like all small men, I think I'm indefeatable when I have a quart of whiskey in me. And Lord help us all if it's been hard cider, AKA "Johnny Jump Up" that I've been drinking -- then I want to take on the whole bar. Only Tequila makes me meaner. But let's just enjoy the lyrics to the traditional humorous poke at ourselves the Irish call "Johnny Jump Up"

Johnny Jump Up

I'll tell you a story that happened to me

One day as I went down to Cork by the sea

The sun it was hot and the day it was warm,

Says I a quiet pint wouldn't do me no harm

I went in and I called for a bottle of stout

Says the barman, I'm sorry, all the beer is sold out

Try whiskey or paddy, ten years in the wood

Says I, I'll try cider, I've heard it was good.

Oh never, Oh never, Oh never again

If I live to be a hundred or a hundred and ten

I fell to the ground and I couldn't get up

After drinking a quart of the Johnny Jump Up

After downing the third I went out to the yard

Where I bumped into Brody, the big civic guard

Come here to me boy, don't you know I'm the law?

Well, I up with me fist and I shattered his jaw

He fell to the ground with his knees doubled up

But it wasn't I hit him, 'twas Johnny Jump Up

The next thing I remember down in Cork by the sea

Was a cripple on crutches and says he to me

I'm afraid of me life I'll be hit by a car

Won't you help me across to the Celtic Knot Bar?

After downing a quart of that cider so sweet

He threw down his crutches and danced on his feet

I went up the lee road, a friend for to see

They call it the madhouse in Cork by the Sea

Butl when I got there, sure the truth I will tell,

They had this poor bugger locked up in a cell

Said the guard, testing him, say these words if you can,

"Around the rugged rock the ragged rascal ran"

Tell him I'm not crazy, tell him I'm not mad

It was only a sip of the bottle I had

Well, a man died in the mines by the name of McNabb

They washed him and laid him outside on the slab

And after the parlors measurements did take

His wife brought him home to a bloody fine wake

Twas about 12 o'clock and the beer was high

The corpse sits up and says with a sigh

I can't get to heaven, they won't let me up

Til I bring them a quart of the Johnny Jump Up

So if ever you go down to Cork by the sea

Stay out of the ale house and take it from me

If you want to stay sane don't you dare take a sup

Of that devil drink cider called Johnny Jump Up

Have a Good Day and don't be drinking any of the 'Johnny Jump Up' me boy-o's.

Winter Tent Living In Maine

Here's a thought, my fellow fulltimers. Instead of mildly complaining of a little wind and rain, imagine tent living in the Maine woods in January with sub-zero temperatures and two feet of snow. Makes my highball glass shiver, it does. This man lives it, according to this story in the Bangor Daily News .

POWNAL MAN FACES BLIZZARD WHILE LIVING IN HIS TENT DURING WINTER

Photo Credit: Bangor Daily News copyright 2015

So it's a new year already...

Dismayed

Photo Credit: James Barnett Creative Commons Copyright for Non-commercial Use

Inauspicious beginnings to 2015. Head cold that has since migrated south to the chesticle regions has me coughing, sneezing, sniffling and taking breathing treatments every few hours (with one lung, it's sorta necessary). Oh joy!

I was served by a East Baton Rouge Parish constable on New Year's Eve. Seems my neighbors in Maine have a crossed hair about the old vehicles in the dooryard and dilapidated state of the property. Maybe it's really bad, I don't know - it's been over a year since I left. But the Town Council is citing the cars and dilapidation as reason to bring me to court to condemn my home and (everything in it) as well as cite me for running an illegal automobile graveyard. 

OK, fair enough. I am so glad that they are each such paeons of virtue that they can cast the first stone. I sure ain't. What really pisses me off, though, is the fact that this matter is scheduled for hearing in February. I am not released for flight nor extended travel by the Cardiologist. Sure hope I can find a lawyer to help stave this off or I will lose everything.

SO, if I seem a trifle unenthused about the prospect of the new year upon us, at least you know why.

I hope you have a better 2015 than I'm having so far...

And So It Goes.