In The Heart of the Sea

I have been holding off reading "In the Heart of the Sea" by, of course, Nathaniel Philbrick. I thought that it would start off positively and then go downhill from there so I stalled by reading some other books first.

The first one was about a couple who fix up a house, a castle really, in the western end of Sicily.

Next was a biography of A.P. Hill, a Confederate General from Alabama who had a major role at Gettysburg.

Numero tres was a book about Edward Sheriff Curtis, who photographed all the Indian tribes in the West. The book set was financed by J.P. Morgan, all because of President Teddy Roosevelt’s backing.

Curtis spent a lot of time in Canyon de Chelly with the Navajo, and at the three mesas in Arizona with the Hopi. He personally interviewed and took photos of three very famous chiefs: Red Cloud, Geronimo and Chief Joseph. He rode with three of Custer's scouts to the Little Big Horn: White Man Runs Him, Goes Ahead, and Hairy Moccasin. At the start of the book there is a glorious photo of Curtis with six Indians.



No one knows who the Indians are, or for that matter where the photo was taken. Curtis is the white man. My guess is that it was taken at Glacier National Park. It could also be the Tetons, but these Indians are dressed more like Blackfeet or Sioux. I own a deerskin Sioux warrior shirt very much like the ones they are wearing.

And then last night I started In The Heart of the Sea. OMG! I am only on page 12. Of course the story of the ship Essex inspired the climatic scene of "Moby Dick." Moby Dick was written on Holmes Road in Pittsfield Massachusetts, about one hundred and fifty miles inland, by Leonard Cohen I think.



Page xii
He soon realized that it was a whaleboat -- double ended and about twenty five feet long -- but a whale boat unlike anything he had ever seen. The boat’s sides had been built up by about half a foot. Two makeshift masts had been rigged, transforming the rowing vessel into a rudimentary schooner. The sails -- stiff with salt and bleached by the sun -- had clearly pulled the boat along for many, many miles. Coffin could see no one at the steering oar. He turned to the man at the Dauphin's wheel and ordered, " Hard to helm."

Under Captain Coffin's watchful eye, the helmsman brought the ship as close as possible to the derelict craft. Even thought their momentum quickly swept them past it, the brief seconds during which the ship loomed over the open boat presented a sight that would stay with the crew the rest of their lives.

First they saw the bones -- human bones -- littering the thwarts and floor boards, as if the whaleboat were the seagoing lair of a ferocious man eating beast. Then they saw two men.

Tom and Eileen know all this because they lent me the book. But did they know that Captain Coffin had a daughter in Nantucket named Kezia?

Thanks to Tom Egan we all read Philbrick’s "Mayflower" and then "The Last Stand," about the Little Big Horn. Only twelve pages into this book about the whaler ship Essex of the island of Nantucket and already I am captivated.

Second Mate
Robert Bacon

Happy Times in the OR

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

They're back! The kidney stones that is. Ultra runner Roger Welch drove me to South Shore Hospital for my surgery this morning. It is raining but he leaves me at the door for the trapping he has to tend to today, even in the rain. Sandy will pick me up at the end of the day. This is the second time in eight months for the dreaded operating room. Am I out of time yet? In our Ultra Running Club at meetings you can only talk about your health for a minute and a half.

So the nurses dress me up in those silly hospital clothes then wheel me down for an x- ray. Now I am in the bed waiting for the doctor. First the anesthesiologist talks to me, followed by two nurses who will assist at the operation. One hooks me up to an I.V. for whatever reason. We discuss the stones and what is about to happen. Not the Rolling Stones. At the end of our talk, Doctor Luke tells me that I should drink water laced with lemon juice from now on. I regale everyone with my discovery last year of the Mexican drink "The Michilada," which contains a lot of lemon juice as well as Goya sauce, hot sauce, Worcestershire sauce, and a bottle of cerveza all served together in a large glass filled with ice and rimmed with salt and black pepper. Hmmm. They laugh then they all walk away.

The operating room is next. I wait for their return. I am starting to get cold and a little antsy. Another warm blanket from the dryer would be nice. My feet are getting cold. Why are they not coming back?

Every once in a while a nurse walks by and checks the machines that I am hooked into. She says nothing. Where are they? Finally I look over at the clock. It reads 1:30 pm. The nurse then says, "Would you like something to drink?" Then it dawns on me. The operation has been over for an hour.

In 1960 . . .

I met a cowgirl who changed my life.

Corpsman

Today on a dark and rainy early morning I threaded my way to the Veterans Administration in Brockton. It is an hour drive cross country from Marshfield. At Boston commuting time, you do not go on Route 3 north.

I know Brockton having spent six months there driving Yellow Cab for six days a week and twelve hours a day. My "handle" was Mustache. I wore a brown corduroy casual sport coat. It was perfect, being comfortable and warm, having many large pockets, and concealing the heavy shoulder holster and pistol that we all needed for protection.

Probably drivers today wear flack jackets. It is an even tougher city than it was forty years ago. Why I took this detour in my life still is not clear to me.

It is pouring rain but a veteran is prowling the parking lot, driving Marines and Seabees and even Army to the main building, #3. I am due for a pneumonia shot, tetanus shot, flu shot, and some blood and urine work.

The office is full. We are a bunch of smashed up old people, some with no legs, many in wheelchairs, but all glad to be alive. I take a number, like at the supermarket. Much to my surprise, the line moves very quickly. Fast and efficient. And friendly.

The corpsman asks, "Name and service number?"

"Sir, Bacon R.F. 693-10-63, Sir."

Eighty days of Boot Camp at The Naval Training Center at Great Lakes, near Chicago, never really leaves you.

"Did you fast?"

"Sir, Yes Sir."

It just seams proper to address the corpsman this way, although he is an enlisted man.

"Mr. Bacon, for having fasted, we are authorized to give you a breakfast chit for $3 dollars."

Chit? I haven't heard that word since 1968, when I got out. As I leave, I compliment him on his speed, friendliness and professionalism. I tell him if I was at my primary care doctor, I would still be checking in. He smiles.

Thirty minutes and I am back on Liberty and I can do whatever I want to do for the rest of the day.

I love the V.A.!!

Bacon CEW2 USN Seabees

Snow on the Pumpkins

The only message I got on my cell phone while on vacation in Istanbul was from my friend Ray. Because of the expense, my phone message said, “Please don't call me while I am away in Europe."

Ray asks, “Can we meet them for dinner around October 30th? It is Maggie’s sixty-fifth birthday.”

What an honor to be invited. It is just the four of us. The Risleys married the same year as us, 1967. Shaun was born two days later.

I am two weeks older than Ray. He calls me sometimes for advice. So many of my closer friends were born in Abril. We have been friends for forty-six years. You can't make this STUFF up. We met while serving together in the Navy.

“Which restaurant?” Ray’s message said only, "Mexican." They live three hours away. It has to be El Sarape or Casa Romero.





Eventually we find out that a Casa Romero business card on a Bob's Mail prompted this wonderful idea of Ray’s.



We leave Marshfield with an hour to travel. The dashboard says that it is 41 degrees. The weather report calls for " Unusual New England Winter Snowstorm." No one would have had to tell the local Wampanoag Indians that, just because of two facts. The oak trees shed no acorns this year, and secondly we are unusually buried heavily in pine needles.

It is black out and raining hard. Six o'clock dinner reservations. Hey! We have been friends forever and at least it isn't four thirty for the Early Bird Special in the great state of Florida.

South East Expressway. 39 degrees. Off at Mass Ave. That’s Massachusetts Avenue to you out-of-towners. Right onto Boylston. Back Bay. Park near the Hynes. 37 degrees.

Walk to Hereford Street where the Boston Marathon takes a hard right off Commonwealth Avenue very close to the finish line. 2012 will be the 116th running. Wow! My last one was the 100th.

The wind always seems stronger and colder in a city doesn't it? How many times have we done this over the years? For many years it was Charlie’s Eating and Drinking Saloon after shows. Do you remember? The waiters in black, with those large, long, old-fashioned white aprons. Male waiters. No female waitresses. Exactly the way it still is in Prague or Athens or especially Istanbul. A far cry from the Charlie’s of today. "Can I help YOU GUYS?"



Look down the one way street for the small red lit-up sign with the words in gold, “Casa Romero.” Interestingly, many Pittsfield brides-to-be hold their bridal showers here. Here being 150 miles east of the Berkshires. "The Berkshires seemed dreamlike on account of that frosting, with 10 miles behind me and . . . “ Oops, sorry. Couldn't control the James Taylor moment.

My ungloved umbrella hand is freezing. This horrid weather came about because Tomas Donovan bought a snow blower a month ago. Three messages on Facebook tell about the approaching storm. Leslie in New Hampshire says it’s really coming down. Stephanie Egan says the snow in Pennsylvania was pretty until the branches, many still with leaves, started breaking (her photos on Facebook show a lot of snow and downed trees). Kathy Stroll said New York was getting hammered (her Facebook photos look even worse). Thank you so much, Tomas.



Sandy and I have been patrons for more than twenty-four years at Senor Leo Romero's house. As usual it was Sandy's idea to try out this Mexican place in Boston. An advertisement in Boston Magazine prompted it. I must admit she has good ideas. She asked me repeatedly to marry her, even on the very first night we met. Did I ever tell you that story?

It was here in 1987 that we first heard about a special little Mexican Island from our Mexican waitress. I asked, "Where do Mexican people go on vacation?" This Febrero will be our 24th trip south of the border.

I had my 50th birthday here at the restaurant. Just my male friends. I don't know why. I just did. OK? Get over it, Jeannette and Donna. I have the photo in my office. We were so young and looked so good back then.



Mr. Romero greets us. This is the oldest continuously-operated restaurant in the Back Bay. Thirty seven years so far. He looks dapper and very well indeed. Uncle George would say. "He has fine carriage."



At first he says that he was originally from Merida, but later says Mexico City. If you ever find yourself in Merida, riding the local bus past a Catholic church, be prepared to do the "Sign of the Cross," as every Catholic person does there when they pass a church. I guess it is the same in Italy.

His food he calls Mexico City style. Please order something other than a burrito or taco when you finally come here for comida, por favor. It would be an especially fine idea if you invite me along.

He says that he first visited Isla Mujeres when he was just ten years old.

It is beautiful and warm here and the Casa is just starting to get busy. Maggie and Ray are waiting at a nice cozy table in a corner.


Ray and Maggie posed for this photo years ago.

The conversation picks up right where we left off the last time we got together. Maggie gets a phone call from her son. It has snowed one foot so far in Pittsfield, and it is still coming down hard.

In Worcester, it is snowing with many power outages. I try not to think about the ride home with the temperature dropping.

The margaritas are so good. We choose the one called "Perfect" and it is. Ray says to be careful of the verde sauce.

The Risley family is a throwback back to the old ways, the old days. What a great family life they lead! They have four (soon to be six) grandchildren compared to our one.

Ray has a gift for Maggie, a very pretty necklace. Hey? You do not stay married this long by accident.

Maggie puts the necklace on. Almost on cue, the lights dim and the tune Happy Birthday plays, as our waiter brings over a flan with a candle in it, with “Feliz Cumpleanos” written in chocolate on the plate. Everyone applauds.

The spirit moves me, and I get up and demonstrate the famous Mexican Hat Dance. Remember? Da da dada dada da dada. I bow at the end. Patrons shower me with pesos. The total surprisingly pays the bill and even the propina. Or maybe it was RayRay who paid. Everything got kind of blurry towards the end of the evening.

As we are leaving, eight people come in and bring the cold with them, as if they have little A/C units installed on their person. You know what I mean! Their bill will be probably four hundred dollars plus propina I would guess.

North on Boylston it says still 37 degrees. The blinking signs on the Southeast Expressway say, "Please stay off the highway so we can keep it clear." Even though there is no sign of snow yet. Unusual winter storm watch indeed.

Route 3 south towards the Cape, and the outside temperature warms to a balmy 41 degrees. I guess the worst will hit after midnight. We miss the snow and wind in Boston and Revere by two hours.

Our casa is warm. I have been burning oak and cherry wood all day and it is not even Noviembre yet. Thanks for listening. You did not interrupt me, not even once.

Your Friend,
RobertoTocino

T. S. Eliot said, "April is the cruelest month. Except for the chocolate bunnies."

Just so you know, Sandy and I will take a warm meal with old friends in any month.

Hora

On the Greek island of Serifos is the hilltop town of Hora. The whole island has a total population of around one thousand people. You can get there by ferry or sailboat only. It has been governed by seven different countries and attacked by numerous pirates.



Sandy and I sailed to seven islands. Perhaps this was our favorite. We took a bus from the harbor to the village. Then we walked to the top where the white washed church is. As you can see this view was just breath taking.


Our sailboat was docked in the sheltered harbor to the right, where you can see all the masts sticking up.

We rewarded ourselves with Ouzo at the square in the little village of Hora.

re: Welcome Home

Wednesday, October 5

Dear Barb Cerri,

Danke schoen. I mean thank you.

Sandy and I arrived at Logan 2:30 AM (our clock) today, this morning, via Lufthansa 3360 miles from Frankfurt to Boston. Don't care to hear German for a while. Watched 3 movies on the way. Woody Allen's latest about Paris, “Roman Holiday" with Gregory Peck and introducing some one named Audrey Hepburn, and then "Bad Teacher."

B-Mail went in the postbox this AM. I am NOT a slacker.

The vacation album will be awesome. A blog maybe sometime. I took 30 photos just with my telephone. I will ask Kezia to send the phone ones out in three sections. Greece, Istanbul and Czech Republic. The phone pictures should be on Facebook this week. Kezia, KEZIA !!!

Have heard absolutely no news for three weeks. Friendly’s Ice Cream?

Having Czech blood YOU need to go to Prague !! OMG
Giovanni needs to go also if only for the Pilsner beer. OMG OMG!

My paternal Great Grandmother was Bohemian. Her name was Anna Agnes Boudo/Bacon. In Czech they pronounce it Ianya. She was born in Bohemia (Czech Republic) in 1852. I wonder if my eyes took in what she saw when she lived there before she emigrated to the United States of America. I hope so.

From,
Robert Francis Bacon Bachand Lemanski Tocino


Anna Boudo and George Washington Bacon

p.s. Musica.
We heard "Love her Madly" in Istanbul at the bazaar. “Tally Me Banana” by Harry Belafonte on the sailboat in the Greek Islands, along with "Green Onions" by Booker T. and the MGs. "Low Rider" while sitting along the river drinking Pilsner in Prague, looking up at the castle. “Rockin’ Robin” as we were leaving Old Town in Prague for the last time. Well maybe not for the last time. Gipsy Kings in a shop in Athens. And of course, Frank singing "My Way" from the restaurant on top of our hotel in Istanbul, while eye balling the Blue Mosque. You can't m u s l this. I conclude that the people of these countries love us but especially our musica and movies. CHIFLADOS !!

Celebrating 44 Years of Marriage

Two views from our hotel in Istanbul.

Above, the Bosphorus Sea leading to the Mediterranean.

Below, The Blue Mosque, holds 60,000 Muslim worshipers.



21 days, three cities, and the Greek Islands. Ten take-offs and ten landings. Perfect. Wait till you see the photos.

He Loaded 16 Ton

Over the past two weeks I have wheelbarrowed 367, 20-inch or so lengths of firewood up three hills from my neighbor’s yard next door. Sometimes I can get three into the wheelbarrow; sometimes one is plenty. For fun, I weighed one and it was 119 pounds. Some are lighter. Some I cannot lift. Some I need to split so I can load them. But I will have to wait until they dry. I guestimate four cords of white oak and a little cherry.



367 x 119 pounds = 43,673 pounds of too-soon-to-burn firewood -- maybe for 2012; for sure for 2013.

I haven't felt the need for exercise during this time.

Come for a visit this winter. You will not need a sweater. Come next year too, when these logs are dry and stoveworthy.

Deaths in the National Parks

I read the books" Death In The Grand Canyon" and" Death at Yellowstone" and most deaths were really the result of stupid actions. I remember Yellowstone was mainly being out on Yellowstone Lake in the afternoon when the storms came in, and you ended up in 45 degree water. Grand Canyon was dehydration and getting too close to the edge for the perfect photo.


Fiery Furnace

My friend Tom Egan and I hiked to Delicate Arch at Arches National Park in Utah years ago. It is my second favorite National Park. We especially enjoyed the Fiery Furnace Hike. When we reached the top of Delicate Arch we started to break our food out of our knapsacks. A man came over to us and asked us to please NOT have lunch there. It just stopped us cold.


Delicate Arch

Then we looked over and saw that his wife was sobbing. Their son had fallen off the edge on their last visit. So we didn't eat, but just sat there quietly until a group of Cub Scouts came up and started running all over the place.

There is a rocky but flat pitch to the edge and if your water bottle gets knocked over it rolls very fast and will go over the edge before you know it. We got really nervous that one of the Cub Scouts would go over the edge, so we got up and left.

We followed the couple who lost their child down off the high part of Delicate Arch, "the one on the stamp." They took a right, going to the spot where he landed, we guessed, and we continued on to the trail head.

On the TV show "Hill Street Blues," the sergeant, after muster, would always say, "Be careful out there."

- Tocino, Believer of All Written Words

Smoke 'Em If You Got 'Em

The speeding car pulled into the Rexhame Beach Grocery Store parking lot way too fast, even for 7 in the morning. I watched in amazement as two females exited the run-down car, followed by plumes of cigarette smoke. One reminded me of Mom right before she got the cancer. She was thin and had those drawn-in smoker's cheeks. The other woman was a blonde with the biggest thigh tattoo I have ever seen . . . and I was in the Navy for four years! But what happened next was amazing. The blonde opened the trunk of the car that they drove up in, and with what seemed like a foot-long cigarette between her lips, pulled out a gasoline can and proceeded to put the gas into what obviously was her low-on-gas car. I thought of reasoning with them but instead I just waited for the explosion . . . but it never came.

I had turned in $32 in cans and bottles and thought about buying four packs of cigarettes but I didn't. But maybe I will put it towards a tattoo. Even without the explosion it was still a good day and who knows what tomorrow will bring.

Tocino

Hi Fi Phono

Man did they let it blast! We went to see Boz Scaggs and Michael McDonald last night, in the round, at the South Shore Music Circus in Cohasset.



The previous day we had tied a Boston record for heat with 104 degrees at Logan Airport. Inside the tent was pretty warm. Boz came on first with his standards: Jo Jo, Georgia, Low Down, We’re All Alone, Harbor Lights, Miss Sun, Some Change and a Fats Domino tune, " Sick and Tired," that I love. "Before you go to bed I even brush your teeth."

We have seen him four times now. He has never done my very favorite, "Fly Like a Bird." Do you know it? He is accompanied by an accordion on that one. When am I going to learn how to spell it? No, I know how to spell “it,” but have trouble with the word “accordion.”

Accordions certainly have become a large part of my musical and dancing pleasure. Someone said that the definition of a gentleman was someone who knew how to play the accordion, BUT DIDN'T. Or what is the difference between a fiddle and a violin? Answer: the violin doesn't get beer spilled on it. Boz almost always makes the list for the Bob's World annual CD.

After the break, Michael McDonald came on stage for the second half of the show. They share the same band. I remember the black gospel singer from shows past. Her name is Miss Monet. He did some old Doobie Brothers songs and “I Keep Forgettin’.” For some reason I thought he was formerly part of Chicago. We own all of Boz's stuff but not even one Doobie Brothers. "It Keeps You Runnin’."

Sandy has a facial client whose Mom and Dad originally owned and operated the South Shore Music Circus. Back then they would actually put the performers up at their house. Consequently the daughter never knew who she would be having breakfast with -- Perry Como, Zero Mostel or even Liberace. I hope she writes a book.

Looking back, we have seen: Arlo Guthrie, Everly Brothers, Four Seasons, the Cowsills, Captain & Tennille, Chuck Berry, Lyle Lovett, k.d. lang, Bill Cosby, Tony Orlando & Dawn, Neil Sedaka, Linda Ronstadt, Tony Benidetto, Art Garfunkel, Martha without the Vandellas, Diana Ross without the Supremes, The Monkees , Sha Na Na , Bobby Ryderelli and Fabian Forte and Frankie Avalone all at the same time. And Susan Tedeschi. And that is just of the top of my head. The very first show we ever saw there was in 1967. I got free tickets for my young bride and I while in the Navy, from Special Services. The show was “There's A Girl In My Soup” or “Guess Who's Coming To Dinner” or “If It is Tuesday It Must Be Belgium.” Maybe it was even “Hair.” I forget. Let me give my brain a rest and maybe it will come to me. Oh! “Something Happened On The Way To The Forum.” 2011 is the Music Circus's 60th year. Wow!

Surprisingly, the people attending the Music Circus this time were boisterous; some stood and danced, obstructing those sitting in their seats. I complained and explained to one of the young attendants that my generation would actually sit in their seats to watch a performance. With no one wearing backward baseball caps. The attendant seemed flabbergasted over these statements.

They allow beer into the tent now, which could have been a reason for all the chatter during the performance. Years ago, if you stood, someone would come over immediately and tell you to sit down. The attendant that I spoke to did not even realize that he had the right to do that. A female attendant who was listening walked over to the drunken or drugged woman and asked her to sit down. She did so, but later on turned around and acknowledged us with her middle finger.

The South Shore Music Circus has gotten lax. Rumor has it that next year they will allow casual sex during the performances but will try to curtail all the chatter.

At the finale, Boz came on to sing with Michael. Michael introduced the first tune as "maybe the best love song ever written. It was “Hallelujah." That is the second reference to L. Cohen that I have heard this week. The other was in an interview with Kris Kristofferson in Cowboy and Indian magazine’s September issue, saying that he and Leonard are indeed close friends. You still subscribe to the magazine, I suspect. Kris is seventy five years old.

After “Hallelujah,” Michael got up from his keyboard and strapped on the infamous red and white keyed accordion. Boz introduced the tune as one from New Orleans, written by Chuck Berry, the performer, Boz said, who influenced him the most in his career. We saw Chuck at this same Music Circus years ago. We went with my old Navy friends, who are our age, Maggie and Ray Risley. When Chuck came down the aisle, Maggie blurted out LOUDLY that "She didn't know he was black!" You can't make up stuff like this. Chuck turns eighty this year.

Anyway, the second song they sang was Chuck’s "You Never Can Tell," which is another one of my all-time favorites.

It was a teenage wedding and the old folks wished them well
You could see that Pierre did truly love the mademoiselle

We even danced to it at Martha and Paul's wedding in D.C. It was twisted to by John Travolta and Uma Thurman in the movie Pulp Fiction, and it even made the Bob's World CD one year. I prefer the one by Chuck, as opposed to the other very good one by the Aaron Neville.

All's well that ends well. C'est la Vie, I guess.

A Night at Water Fire

Last Saturday evening Sandy and I drove to Water Fire in downtown Providence. We mainly went to dance outside to the Rhode Island based Cajun band, Magnolia. There was a food wagon just like Haven Brothers but with really good food. It was like an English bus. A double decker -- and you could bring your food topside and watch the dancers. Planet Zydeco from Vermont finished off a perfect dancing night.

Check out this video from Michelle of Magnolia (see link below). Look for us! Sandy is wearing a long white dress. Something was wrong with the video because it looks like I have a bald spot.

What a wonderful way to spend the night. It looks like fun because it was. Have you ever been to Water Fire?

Chiflados !!!
Tocino

Charles says it means SPARKS in Spanish. Sort of like holy cow !!

WELL yah we went to Federal Hill after.

LINK
http://youtu.be/xVE-2eOv5U0

A Special Fence Sale

1971. The Reliable Fence Company’s sales manager called me into his office. Would I mind driving to Lynnfield for a very special fence customer?

My sales area was Hull to Abington to Manomet. This was indeed an exception.

I said yes and got to meet Ken Hodge of the Boston Bruins.

Johnny McKenzie was just finishing up a visit and he mentioned Esposito.

Those were the days . . .

2011
-
1971
-------
40 years – yikes!

You Will Never Last!

Just booked our 44th wedding anniversary trip. Two weeks in September 2011. It starts in Athens. Not Georgia. Our first hotel is Hotel Polis. Go figure. From the rooftop of the hotel restaurant, we will see the Acropolis all lit up.



Then to Santorini for a week of sailing the Greek islands. Fifty foot sail boat 8 passengers. My favorite #. Maybe we will even stop at L. Cohen's island of Hydra, where he wrote “Marianne” and “Bird on A Wire.”



Santorini at the Hotel Pelicano and hopefully a lot of Ouzo, then on to Istanbul, Turkey for our anniversary on September 30th. Janis, our travel agent/friend says, "There is a bridge where you can walk into Asia."

On the announcement of our engagement, Sandy's Mom, Frances Zabek, asked in 1962, "When will you get married?”

We were 19 and 18. “In five years,” we replied.

She said, "You won't last that long."

Sandy’s Dad was more uplifting. He lowered his North Adams Transcript and said, “I hope you know what you’re doin’.”

Then he raised the newspaper back up.

His Mom, Babci Zumbek, always liked me. She knew that it would work. I don't know why. We never even had a real conversation. She only spoke Polish, you know, from the old country. Well I am one half Polish. Lemanski is certainly Polish. Nora's maiden name.

Hattie Fontaine Bacon, my Dad's mom, “From France not Canada," she would say, gave me her diamond that Frank originally gave her . . . to give to Sandy.

Mom and Dad Bacon said, "Don't let her get away."

I listened and I didn't let her get away. Lucky me!

We met when we were 14 and 15. There was a dance. The waves parted. The red sweater. Girls should always wear sweaters.

Everyone knows the story by now. Frankie Avalone was singing " Venus."

We had Kezia's name picked out even that far back, when we were 14 and 15. Sandy knew. I was clueless. Everyone at Adams Memorial High School knew. I was clueless. Hey! I am a guy.

So it really is 51 years. Sometimes you just get lucky.

I wish you our luck and happiness. Just like Romeo and Juliet. You can't make up STUFF like this. Thank you for listening again and again.

Mexellent

Martha's husband Paul was coming to Marshfield from George Washington D.C. this past April 18th to run Boston for the first time. The B.A.A. gives you a lot of STUFF in your goodie bag. One of the items is a very nice long-sleeved running tee shirt that says Boston Marathon on it. In my years of running, I found them kind of useless. Too warm for hot runs and not warm enough for colder runs. When you wear it as a layer, you hide all the text on it. But when you wear it out, people know that you "Ran Boston" and that is a good thing.

Sandy and I volunteered once. I still have a Boston Marathon volunteer jacket from 1990. It is yellow, very thin, and perhaps the only poor quality one that the Boston Athletic Association EVER gave out.



My friend Tom Donovan volunteers at Boston every year. Every year he gets a better job. This year he was responsible for getting the wheel chair racers/runners to Hopkinton, among other responsibilities. You can count on Tom. As my friend Roger says, if I am combat, I want Tom in my foxhole. He has access to B.A.A. memorabilia such as volunteer jackets. He gave me this one.



We both wore them on a crisp, 55-degree, sunny, September early morning at the start of the Kaibab Trail at the Grand Canyon. It is in Arizona. Tom came up with the idea of hiking down to the bottom to Phantom Ranch along the Kaibab, and then back up the Bright Angel Trail at 5AM the next morning. It was still 80 degrees on the river, even at that time of the day, when we headed back up. I have very fond memories of that day. Tom said it was the best day that he had in all of 2006. You can read all about it in my blog. I called it “Business Cards On The Kaibab.” Part of the story even made the Boston Globe.



I ran Boston 8 times because 8 is my favorite number and I was training for my second try at the Western States 100 mile Trail Run (Squaw Valley to Auburn, California) -- and especially because it was the historic 100th running of the Boston Marathon in 1996. I had my best marathon run ever that day, because I had lost 35 pounds and I was doing 150 mile week training runs, including 40-mile outings on Sundays in preparation for W.S. So the 100th for me was truly a lark and I enjoyed every minute of it. 38,708 official runners came for the 100th Boston – its largest field ever.

I was very attached to my 2006 volunteer jacket. It was a gift. You don't give away gifts, especially when they mean so much to you and a close friend gave it to you. But I thought that Paul should have it. I asked Martha about my idea and she was cool toward it, I thought. I asked father-in-law Flaco about it and he didn't really express an opinion either. So I asked Paul, and he was really laid back about it also. Also is what Dad called me especially when he was upset.

So I gave Paul the jacket the night before the marathon. He did REALLY well and came in 366th out of around 40,000. There is no telling how many bandits ran. The very next day he went to work wearing his Boston Marathon jacket and I knew that I had absolutely done the right thing and a good thing. It is truly better to give than to receive.


Paul crossing the finish line.

Tom Donovan totally understood my thinking on the matter, even though I was giving away a gift from him.

Epilogue: Last night Tom came to my house because we were attending the book signing by Nathaniel Philbrick at the historic 1699 Winslow House. He brought along Philbrick’s book "The Last Stand," which I had lent him -- and a shiny new/old Boston Marathon Volunteer Jacket. Not just any old jacket but the one from 1996, the 100th running of the Boston Marathon. The one that runners are willing to PAY $300 for.





My 8th, my best Boston Marathon run, and my last Boston. Tom also feels that it is better to give than receive, and am I ever happy about that.

MEXELLENT

Abuelo Tocino
May 17, 2011

Duke’s Pond

It seems to get swimming hot only in the month of July in the Hoosac Valley. The wind or breeze is blocked by Mount Greylock to the west and Savoy Mountain to the east, and the town of Adams Massachusetts bakes. If you live here you are 200 miles from the nearest ocean beach. But that’s OK because nestled just over Savoy Mountain is Duke’s Pond. Just drive up Orchard past the Polish cemetery, past where Danny Alibozek used to live. Stay straight through the Gulf past the dairy farms and through Savoy. You will go down a long decline and right there on your right you will see the sign. It’s in West Hawley, near the Windsor border.



It isn't a huge pond but it is warm. It is not freezing cold like Sand Springs in Williamstown or Anthony's in Adams. Here is where Dad took us one hot , steamy night after work to learn how to swim. He simply took my brother and I out over our heads and we had to swim back. Duke’s is also where I first canoed. The east end of the pond is where the dance pavilion and barroom were. Once you got off 116, the roads were just gravel.



White Birch was another area on the pond -- at the bottom of the hill and on the right. It was a very nice picnic area, with picnic tables and a stone fireplace at each site. It was first come, first served. Maybe you had to pay. You must have had to pay. Dad liked it because they had a small barroom nestled in the birches. You could get an ice cold beer, but you had to be 13.

The Bacon family would go up after church at Saint Stan's. My mom, Nora, would always buy the Polish rye bread at the Polish Bakery just across from the church. It is a pizza place now. I remember all of this mostly from old photos.

My mother and father would take their parents along. Much of the time Walter Lemanski (my mom’s dad) came along. His children referred to him as Pa.





His wife, Alexandra, had passed by then. They came from Poland, "the old country," they would say. Alexandra came first and alone. She was pregnant with her first of 9 children. She was 19, married to Walter who was drafted into the Russian Army. She walked for two days to get to the steamship that would take her first to Ellis Island. From there she traveled up to Adams Massachusetts where she had a sister living. What did she carry? How did she communicate? What was it like to see her sister in the United States of America? What type of transportation did she use to get to her sisters? Maybe the train? I don't know.

What did she think of Adams? If she stayed in the Polish section of town, she would have no problems. She would not have to learn the language and she never did. Sandy's Polish Grandmother never did either. You just didn't need to.

Alexandra was called Alice by her friends. There must have been a promise of employment. Hoosac Valley needed factory workers for the cotton and woolen mills. The Polish people filled that need.

Alice Lemanski 's favorite movie star was Buster Crabbe. In her heavy Polish accent, she called him Bustum Crap. You can't make up stuff like this.

My mother would dust our little squeeky clean house on Howland Avenue every Saturday. Part of her ritual was to take down her mothers photo, polish it in a circular motion, kiss it and put it back on the shelf. This is the photo of my Polish Grandmother in a wheel chair at Dukes Pond. I remember my mothers ritual clearly as if it happened yesterday.

It was March 19, 1944. The World War was raging. The five daughters and their mother were sitting at the kitchen table on Commercial Street, talking, when someone knocked on the front door. Oh my god, Billy was home from the war! But when my Aunt Steffie got to the door, no one was there. The very next day a letter came from Mr. Roosevelt. William Lemanski was missing in action over Italy. Rumor says it was over Austria. He was a tail gunner in a B-52 bomber airplane -- the one with all the glass, with the turret that swiveled. The next day, another letter. Billy was killed in action. Alexandra couldn't take the loss and had a stroke climbing the stairs.



It reads:

IN GRATEFUL MEMORY OF

STAFF SERGEANT WILLIAM LEMANSKI, A.S. 31284582

WHO DIED IN THE SERVICE OF HIS COUNTRY

IN THE NORTH AFRICA AREA , MARCH 19, 1944


HE STANDS IN THE UNBROKEN LINE OF PATRIOTS WHO HAVE DARED TO DIE
THAT FREEDOM MIGHT LIVE , AND GROW, AND INCREASE ITS BLESSINGS.
FREEDOM LIVES , AND THROUGH IT. HE LIVES-
IN A WAY THAT HUMBLES THE UNDERTAKINGS OF MOST MEN.

Franklin D. Roosevelt
President of the United States of America



Oh, you want to know why the name of this story is Duke’s Pond? Here at our house in Marshfield, we have almost no grass. I did that on purpose. We would spend all morning mowing the grass in Zylonite at Mom and Dad's. But I do have a strip between the old house and the pool fence. I would always advise my swimming pool customers to put some grass in their pool area for color. A landscaper told me I could never grow grass there but I did. It has been damaged periodically, with all the additions that we have done, plus house painting and new roofs. Finally the additions have ceased and I brought up beautiful thirty-nine year-old compost from behind the pool near the garden, and seeded, and the grass is finally coming back in -- very well, thank you.

Between the bar and the driveway is an area where you cannot grow grass for two reasons. It is too shady there, and the water from the long driveway swales right through there like a flood when it rains. We had pachysandra there for awhile, but it got trampled during my big fiesta. I decided to fill the area with round, smooth Rexame beach rocks. Then I dug a very crooked path through it for the water to flow. Abel and I named it Snake River.



Abel and Teddy, Abel' s best friend who lives across the street, love to play in Snake River. When it is not raining and dry, we run a garden hose at one end and the river comes alive. So much for all my water barrel and water pail conservation efforts. I enjoy washing the cars with rain water. Doesn't everyone?

There is a large rain barrel on the other side of the bar with a roof gutter running right into it. It is always full. Abel came up to me, covered in mud, with those big blue eyes, and said, "Grampa, would you mind if I turned on the spigot and made a pond, and then connect it across the lawn to Snake River?"

“Abel,” I said, “That is a great idea.”

Then he said, "We will call it Duke’s Pond."

I was kinda stunned. Sandy and I have been to Duke’s Pond only once in forty-four years. He's never been there.

Today he and Teddy found a dead chipmunk in a pail of rain water, and asked me what to do with it. I said, “We will bury it, but not right now.” Next thing I knew, they had dug a hole right in the middle of my new lawn! We had a little service, and bid the chipmunk -- and my new lawn -- farewell.

Your Friend,
Abuelo Tocino

Holbox Vacation 2011

Isla Holbox (whole bush) was pretty neat. It is located on the Gulf of Mexico so the sea is not as blue as the Caribbean. Yah it looks like Isla Mujeres did, but maybe eighty years ago, not twenty as we were thinking before we went there. No cars. White sand streets with grande slippery puddles when it rains.



Almost no TVs in the houses. None in the hotels. No cell phone reception for Americans. Great restaurants, pizza, Argentinian, Italian, Mexican.



Here is an interesting note. In the 10 days in Mexico we never had a Mexican meal. Chips and pico de gallo and guacamole for sure, but NO Mexican.



Israeli, Spanish, Italian and Mediterranean and Asian but no . . . There was incredible sea food, or so I was told.





Our hotelita was a knock out. It is very new and run by an Italian mother and daughter. It had one of the most beautiful pool areas that I have ever seen. And I have seen a few thousand.



I think there are 7 hotels on the twenty six-mile-long island. Isla Mujeres is only 5 miles long.

Our hotel was rated by Trip Advisor as #3. I can't imagine any hotel on Holbox being better than the one we stayed at. Not much shopping, but when you did shop, there was NO pressure. No "take a look" or "where you from." No vendors on the beach. Way more bird life and way more shells. We have only seen more stars at night once on a vacation, while in Montana. Quiet. Not many Norte Americanos. Population of Isla Mujeres: 10,000. Population of Isla Holbox: 1,600.



Found a new drink for me there that I really enjoyed. It is called a Michelada. Soy sauce, worcestershire sauce, Goya sauce, salted glass with rockes (ice cubes) add ice cold beer. I had Modelo. You cannot drink it fast. Mine lasted for up to two hours. Three would be too many. If you like a spicy drink, this Bud's for you. I mean this Michelada is for you. Mr. Google says that it was concocted in the 1940s and that roughly translated it means "my cold beer" or mi chela helado.