Category Archives: American Culture

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Q.D.L. ( Quality Days Left)

My friend Jeff Chetlin( pictured here front and center in the orange shorts) said to me the other day on a MTB ride,” Paddy- I want you to get in your Jeep and think about what I am saying. I want you to think about quality days left.” He said, ” Today is a quality day. Sunshine, a long ride with friends, beers and lunch in the parking lot sitting around on soccer chairs, enjoying each other’s company after a great ride ” That is a quality day.” ” How many of these days do we have left?”
I thought about that on the way home and as Jeff also said, we really don’t know how many of these quality days we do have left. He is ten years younger than me but still, we don’t know. I asked the same question basically to my ski crowd a few weeks ago. ” How much longer do you think we will be able to ski the chutes, rip GS turns, and ski at a high level comparatively speaking?” The general consensus was if we kept ourselves in shape, didn’t get injured( longer recovery at an older age), and nothing catastrophic happened, we should be able to ski like this into our 70s. We saw a guy at Snowbasin one year making beautiful GS turns on the groomers at high speed…..at 75 years young. So back to Chetlin. He has ideas on how he wants to utilize his QDL.

Jeff seems to think that he needs to someday soon move to Bend, Oregon to pursue his dream of maximizing QDL. In many ways, his environment dictates and contributes to his QDL. He is questioning whether he wants to spend the rest of his active years in Pennsylvania or make the move to his favorite place out west. We all currently travel to ski trips and mountain bike trips but aside from those great days, our QDL are currently here in the Keystone State. But in my mind- that is ok. All of our friends are here with the exception of a few, and life is what you make of it, right? So I thought more about it and asked myself in my Jeep, what do I think is a quality day? Well, I have this positive way of viewing things and really, every day is a gift. When we wake up and are blessed with another healthy day, it is a quality day to me. I know that the epic mountain bike rides with friends and epic ski days with friends are quality days, but I think about every day being a quality day. No matter the weather, no matter what the circumstances, if you are blessed with friends, a good work environment, and a wonderful spouse, you have quality days. A great quality day is spent with my wife Janet. We need to value each and every day because we have each other currently in good health.
We will always value each other no matter what, but we need to maximize that time together. I am sure that Jeff feels that way about his wife Julie who is his partner in everything that he does.
So, I can dream about quality days left out west in some great location. But currently I live in Pittsburgh and must make the QDL alive and well right here. Again, the travel QDL are important and always will be memorable, but days like we had last Saturday with our MTB crew, riding in the spring sunshine, sitting around and telling stories in our soccer chairs, and sipping a cold brew, that is a quality day for sure. How many do we have left? Only the Lord knows that for sure. But my goal is to make every day a quality day, no matter what the day presents. I know what Jeff means about life in Bend. And, he may attain that goal soon. But for the time being, I am looking forward to the Coopers Gap Epic Ride in a few weeks at State College with the Chetlins and looking forward to more fun times with my Janet in whatever we do. Thanks for reading and maximize your QDL.

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Security in an Unsure World.

A long time ago, I rode my road bike through the Netherlands. A wonderful trip which included a visit to the eclectic city of Amsterdam. Resplendent with its canals and cafes it had an interesting vibe and an integral part of my visit was to the Rijksmuseum and the van Gogh museum. Now the sad thing was that I knew nothing about art as I took in the Rembrandt paintings and the students of Rembrandt on display in the Rijksmuseum. Making my way to the van Gogh museum I also felt extremely inadequate when I took in the art there. Although I have heard that art appreciation is in the eye of the beholder, it would have been nice if I had some semblance of understanding of what I was viewing in two of the most famous art museums in the world. What a rube I was. I was determined from that point that I would learn more about art.

Fast forward light years, I found myself last weekend in Charleston,South Carolina in yet another famous art community for the wedding of my friend Nathan Durfee.

Now I have known Nathan most of his life and as a young guy, he always impressed me with his love for the arts. He played the guitar and the cello and was very musical at a young age. It was apparent early on that he was talented and when he matriculated at the Savannah College of Art and Design, we all knew that this could be the start of something big. Little did we know how big! Among his achievements are Best Local Visual Artist – four years in a row by Charleston City Paper, Charleston Portrait Slam winner, and The Teatrio Cultural Association book award for his children’s book entitled “Hello My Name is Bernard”. Nathan’s paintings are an expression of his personality in that his subjects are whimsical characters who are faced with tough, universal decisions, conveying a sense of security in an unsure world to the viewer. Again, I felt inadequate as I wandered the Robert Lange Studios http://www.robertlangestudios.com for Nathan’s rehearsal reception. Nathan is one of the featured artists for Robert Lange and I made it a point on the trip to investigate more about Nathan’s art.

Another interesting part of the wedding journey to Charleston for my wife and I was our stay at The Vendue http://www.thevendue.com which is touted as Charleston’s Art Hotel. Among the many galleries within the hotel, there is an artist in residence studio where you can visit and see the creation of oil paintings currently by Fred Jamar.

Now Fred was born in Belgium and had a very successful career in the financial world. He has since retired and has taken up residency in The Vendue and is a very engaging person who is more than willing to show you his works and let you view his artistic ability as he paints. Janet and I were in awe as we saw Fred touch up a beautiful Charleston scene on his easel. The colors were magnificent and along with our marvel at the art work of our pal Nathan Durfee, my education in the world of art took a more modern turn as we made our way through the art community of Charleston. We learned about collaboration where two artists share their strengths and combine their art into one painting. Typically Nathan either paints a central part of a work or finishes the work of another in these collaborations which are wildly popular and sell out even before the works are started. The more I learned, the more I realized how much I didn’t know about the art world. But it sure is interesting when you take the time to appreciate the talent of others.

Charleston is a wonderful town on the water. It’s history is well documented but little did I know what a vibrant art community it has. In my quest to be “Younger Next Year”, continuing education must be part of the plan. I have decided to know more about art. I also have decided to try to resurrect any talent I had in playing the piano. Janet had our piano tuned and I need to use my mind and start to play again. It is great to stay in shape, ski the steeps, ride the good trails, but in order to stay relevant, it is a must to continually educate ourselves. Nathan and his lovely bride Michelle have shown us a glimpse of what that entails. Thanks for welcoming us into your world.

Paintings displayed in this post are all by Nathan Durfee.  www.robertlangestudios.com/nathan-durfee/

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The Kibbutz

Israel, Negev, Yotvata kibbutz

The Kibbutz( Hebrew word for communal settlement) is a unique rural community;a society dedicated to mutual aid and social justice;a socioeconomic system based on he principle of joint ownership or property, equality and cooperation of production, consumption and education;the fulfillment of the idea”from each according to his ability to each according to his needs”

So, people ask, “Pat, what is it like living with your mother in law?” I jokingly say,” It is like living in a Kibbutz.” But before I elaborate, let me take you back a bit. Jan’s mom Joan moved in with us a year ago originally into our house in Franklin Park. Circumstances dictated that this was the right thing to do and I didn’t want to move. I liked my house and I liked my fireplace.
But eventually I was prevailed upon to move because my mother in law wanted more room and a place like a mother in law suite for her own privacy. I got it, and the next thing I know, we are in a carriage home which basically is a townhouse on steroids. So here we are right around the corner from our old house in a community where they mow your lawn, shovel your walk, mulch your gardens and have a nice pool. My friends laugh and say,” Did you hear about McCloskey? He is in assisted living.” We all get a kick out of that but I call it…..the Kibbutz. We are a community joined together.

It is an interesting dynamic when you put people of different generations together. My mother in law is 86, and my son who commutes to college is 21. The dinner table is filled with conversations ranging from the political to the classes that my son is taking and questions are facilitated by Google or from the Google product Alexa who sometimes falls short in the answer department. I think we need to program her better. But the conversations are lively and my mother in law Joan says it is the highlight of her days.

You learn a lot about people when you live with them. Even Janet,who has not lived with her mom in years, is learning to adapt to someone other than Jack and I living with her. People have ways of operating that are sometimes different than your own. But that is part of a community right? We are all dedicated to living a life together and the balance deference should always be towards the other person without compromising much of your own way of doing things. For instance, my mother in law has a little bit of a hard time hearing. I talk loud. Good combination right? But my wife thinks I scream and my mother in law hears me perfectly. Sometimes I have to compete with Fox News at record decibel levels until I turn it down and talk normally. But the missed conversations, repetitions, the inevitable shouting can lead to some stressful moments.

My mother in law and I share dish washing duties. I wash and she dries. I sometimes have to give her the hip check to get her away from the sink so I can have space to wash. She has always been in control in the kitchen but the washing is my domain and we sometimes maneuver for position. But the good news is that most of the time we laugh about it. I will give her the hip check and say,” Hey Joan- get the hell out of the way?” We laugh because it is all good natured and allows us to work things out. But make no mistake- that sink is mine after dinner.

We all have our tasks. Setting the table, getting the drinks, taking out the trash. We eat like longshoremen around the house. Good thing Janet is a good cook because between Jack, me and my mother in law who has a healthy appetite for someone of her age, we are EATERS!! Food flies in and out of the Kibbutz.

So, I guess if you looked at it, we are a social experiment. We have a young perspective on looking at things, we have an experienced older person’s point of view, and we have my wife and I in the middle. But that is the way it should be right? We have no regrets. We all are in a good living situation and my mother in law is content in her old age to live a comfortable life in the Kibbutz. She has her own space yet feels part of our family community. The society is getting older folks, and soon we all will be there ourselves. I want to be “Younger Next Year” but I know that someday, hopefully, we will be in a Kibbutz having someone care about us and maybe enjoy living with us. Take care of your elders folks. They paid their price in life. Thanks for reading.

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The Orange Cone

Orchard Hill Church was planted out in Wexford, Pa right after Janet and I got married in 1988. We were one of the first families to become involved and our friend Sharon Gregory got me immediately involved in the skits that were part of the non-denominational service. Janet was more traditional in her service in the children’s ministry, but whenever they needed a goof to play a part in a skit, the phone call came to me. Dennis Bowman, the weatherman, played Keith Jackson the famous sportscaster in one skit with me playing Myron Cope. Another time they got me to run around the stage with a big black hole on my shirt, signifying how my life was empty. I soon retired from the skits because the assistant pastor at the time kept changing the lines on Sunday mornings. Too much pressure for me and I still kid him about how he drove me out when I see him running at the park.

Fast forward, I wanted to do something else to volunteer and I saw these guys directing traffic in the parking lot wearing shorts in a snowstorm. I smiled and said, that is the service opportunity for me and I signed on to be a parker. Now my first session was Christmas Eve Services and our church gets really crowded. The boss put me out in the front of the lot near the road and my job was to direct people up the hill to the main lot. Equipped with an orange vest and two flash lights in a blizzard, I dutifully directed people up the hill. The only crazy thing about that point position is that even though I had two lights and a bright orange hunting vest, I was a magnet for the Ford F-150s. People get confused when they come for the first time and are not quite paying attention. I had to be quick on several occasions to dodge the big trucks but I came out unscathed.

My new crew chief is Mike Fischbaugh who is one of these guys who will wear shorts and a windbreaker when it is 20 degrees. I swear the guy must be the most hot blooded guy I know but also has the biggest heart. Along with Johnny Salvini, Larry Zamer, Steve Nagler, and Matt Warheit, we manage the lot every other Sunday and mayhem usually ensues in one form or another.

I often shout out when an vehicle is coming in hot. People don’t pay attention when they are late for church and on their cell phones. They come screaming into the lot at warp speed and I shout the warning and jump to get my toes out of the way. Volunteering in the parking lot can be a hazardous occupation. But we love it. Matt keeps us all in line despite vigorous conversations about fantasy football where some folks are left to park on their own if the conversation becomes lively. Cindy Adams has the dubious task of taking care of the parkers with coffee and food on the multiple Christmas services. We also fall under her general guidance- poor girl. Her smile is welcoming as we come in between services to get warm and get a nice hot cup of coffee only to get back at it at the beginning of the next service. I always tell her the worse the weather, the better I like it. I like adverse conditions because I can wear all my foul weather gear including a 40 year old pair of green wool pants that I brought back with me when I worked in Maine. Love the crappy weather, and I always remark to Mike that this is the best volunteer job in the church. I kid him and say, ” When I croak, take my ashes and put them in that orange parking cone to remember me. A part of me will be left in that lot. We get a good laugh about that one.

I guess the point of all this frivolity is the fact that I believe that it is important to volunteer and serve where there is a need. This happens to be fun but when asked what I feel about the parking ministry, I always remark that we are the first smiling faces people see when they come to church. Maybe they are new and not sure about the format of our services. But we make them feel comfortable with a friendly smile and a cheery hello. They probably think,” these guys are crazy with wool hats and shorts.” But if we can help someone feel at home in a new surrounding, our zaniness has been worthwhile. An old pastor of ours once said,” You don’t have to serve overseas to minister. Just look around in your own neighborhood, school, workplace, or parking lot. God is all around us and protects all of us. Even when they “come in hot.” Thanks for reading.

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The Chairlift

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So, I was sitting on the chairlift last weekend at Laurel Mountain here in Western Pa. The rain was sheeting off my helmet and cascading down over my goggles and I noticed that I was the only one on the chairlift. Looking back to admire the view of our beautiful Laurel Highlands there was no one behind me or in front of me and I turned back around and sat in silence. Even though the weather was foul, I was protected in Pro Gore- Tex and thought about all the times in my life I have sat in silence on a chairlift while skiing. Truth be told, we spend way more time on the chair than we do skiing so what is it like?

Personally, I like skiing by myself sometimes. On foul weather days, I can ride the chair in silence and contemplate the scenery around me and most of all…..take the time to think about things. One of the nice things about enjoying your own company is that you can relax and not have to wait or meet up with anyone. Not that I don’t like to do that with friends, but silent times on the chairlift are therapeutic to me. Kind of like riding a mountain bike by myself. I talk to myself…..sometimes I get answers.

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I have skied in 108 different areas so I have ridden a lot of chairlifts in my time. Single chairs at Mad River and Stowe, fixed grip chairs with no safety bars at Aspen Highlands and Crystal Mountain, with short seats that scare me, and of course my main nemesis that I ride annually out at Mammoth- the infamous Chair 23. chair-23

I have posted about that before and when you have a four person chair, with no safety bar, suspending you hundreds of feet in the air over a wide expanse, people like me who are a bit acrophobic, tend to do the Archie Bell and the Drells and do the tighten up. But I get through because it is the only way up. So, what happens when other people are on the chair with me? Friends engage in conversation about the day and what is happening in their lives. It gives us all a chance to catch up and the social aspect of skiing is always enjoyed on the chairlift because …..well, as I stated, we spend the most time of the day there. The funny thing is when you sit with a stranger on the chair or a group of folks who you don’t know. Depending on my mood, I can sit there and say nothing, nestled behind my high collar and goggles. But in most cases, I usually chime in and say at least a cheery “Hello- great day huh?” That usually elicits some kind of civil discourse and oftentimes you meet interesting people and find out how their day is going, where they are from, what they like about skiing at an area, and then you hit the exit ramp and never see them again.

Then there are the ear bud types who play their music and just want to be left alone. Sometimes they look up and give you a loud, ” Hi. ” But most often they nestle behind the collar and the goggles and keep to themselves. That’s cool. You hit the exit ramp and never see them again.

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Late next week I hit the epic snows of the west. No more chairlift riding in the rain for me this season, but even though we have had a dismal winter here in the east, tenacity wins the day and one of the benefits has been time alone on the chairlift. I can look around, use the time to take in the beautiful mountain scenery of the Adirondacks, the Laurel Highlands, and on to the breathtaking vistas of the west. I will be hanging on for dear life on Chair 23, with my friends laughing at me all the way. But I won’t ride that chair by myself- that’s for damn sure. 🙂 Thanks for reading.

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Not a Pine Knot!

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This winter is a weird one for sure here in the East. Some weeks are cold and snowy and others are really warm. We had the great opportunity to enjoy The Lodge At Glendorn this past weekend and got some good skiing in at Holimont and some nice snowshoeing before it all started to melt.fullsizerender The last day we started a new sport- mudshoeing because of the deteriorating conditions of the trails. However, any time spent at the Lodge at Glendorn is a good one and the weather was generally cooperative for a winter stay. http://www.glendorn.com dining-6more-gd-pics-039

One of the other activities that Mike Smith and I take part in when we are at Glendorn is learning a little bit about skeet and trap shooting. The Glendorn facility is second to none and the instructors are well versed along with the equipment that is available. The collection of shotguns is impressive and some of those pieces of equipment are over $12,000.00 each. It is harder than it looks folks, and I am here to tell you that as much as I enjoy it, I can’t hit the broad side of a barn with a bag of rice. Enter George.

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We were first introduced to George as we walked into the facility for our 3:00 appointment at the range. George is a retiree working at the resort with 43 years in at Kendall Refining behind him. A nice older gentleman who asked us what we knew about skeet shooting. When we feigned mostly ignorance, he thought we were sandbagging him, but I told him he will surely see we were rookies when we first hold the shotgun. We all laughed and George explained the finer points of skeet and trap before we stepped foot on the range. George is a good instructor. He is patient and kind and understanding. He said that he gets as much of a kick out of us breaking a clay pigeon as he would himself. I didn’t want him to be disappointed in my lack of skill but he guided us all the way through. The poignant conversation began when George stopped and said, ” You know fellas, you might think I am an old pine knot up here taking up space in the woods, but I was a 5 time Pa. State Champion at Skeet.” I was not surprised at all because of his knowledge and the way he handled the shot gun. But I was more taken by the fact that he was a little insecure because of his age and perhaps what we thought of him. Nothing could be further from our minds as we respected his knowledge and skill. It struck me that older gentlemen sometimes feel like they have outlived their usefulness and that life has somehow passed them by. It became my mission to make sure George felt comfortable even though I was the one intimidated by trying to perform in front of a 5 time State Champion.

I like older guys. I would bet that in fact, George was not all that much older than me, but all in all, probably had a few years on me. You could see the 43 years of hard work in his hands, the slight fatigue of an older gentleman, but the twinkle in his eyes still showed me a passion for his sport and the thrill of passing on his knowledge to others like Dr. Mike Smith and me. I do notice young people today sometimes do not respect the older generation. They sometimes dismiss them as old men who don’t know anything. I always have taught my son Jack to respect the older guys as he learned a lot over the years from his grandfather- another George, George Bope. These guys have seen a lot and in my zeal to make George feel comfortable, I truly wanted to show him that in my eyes, he was not a pine knot at all but someone who was truly interesting to me. I asked him about his years at Kendall Oil and he obliged me with stories from the refining days and his experiences in the back woods of Pennsylvania. His slight intimidation disappeared as we continued to shoot and BS, and he realized that Mike and I truly appreciated our time with him. I told him, ” George- it may be nothing to you, but just having the experience of handling a shot gun and knowing how to load and shoot it was a good experience for me.” Even though I kept shooting behind the target, I was hitting the mark with experience and a good time in the wilds of Pa. with my friend Mike and our new buddy George.

Returning to the cabin to meet our wives, we discussed our meager results. img_1391 But more importantly, we discussed how much we were impressed with George. I am looking forward to seeing him again when we return to Glendorn. He may think he is an old pine knot, but to me, he is wealth of experience. Respect the older guys, you will learn something. Thanks for reading.

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Singing with the Ladies

Coming at you a little early this week. Things to do, places to see.

I remember my first interest in music on the radio, stereo, etc. was when I first drove my mom’s old 1964 Buick Special convertible to high school and I had KQV AM Radio blasting, along with WAMO and Porky Chedwick, the platter pushing Papa. The Pork played a lot of Motown and Atlantic Record hits and I was hooked on driving to music.

Fast forward and I was in college and first became enamored with the female folk and rock singers of the time. Joni Mitchell was interesting to me with my deeply buried rebel side. ” They paved Paradise and put up a parking lot” and ” Hey farmer, farmer, put away that DDT now”, appealed to me as did her haunting voice and chords that no one else could possibly re-create on a guitar. Joni and the LA Express were cool and I played her records along with Linda Ronstadt – ” when will I be loved?” That one went rocking out the window with the KLH speakers. Grace Slick, Janis and Big Brother, were other female rockers who held my attention. joni-mitchelllinda-ronstadt-580

Moving along with my life, I found myself in Cambridge, Mass. post college graduation, visiting my future brother in law. He was a student at B.U and we went to a little venue that specialized in local talent on stage. Sitting there drinking a beer, a cool looking lady comes out with her cowboy boots and silver cockroach killers on the boot tips. She wore jeans and a neat blouse and when she bent over her Fender Stratocaster and slipped on the little glass bottle on her left finger, I knew we were in for something special. Her flaming shock of red hair swayed to the blues riffs and I knew I had found my new female singer attraction. Bonnie Raitt played a lot of venues in Boston and Philly at the time and she was taking off in the music world and I was a fan. I bought all of her tapes and subsequent CDs. bonnieraittnickoftime

Love had not found me yet, and I had a period of time driving my car to work and to ski areas where I felt sorry for myself and comforted myself in the melancholy tunes of Karla Bonoff. Driving along dark lonely roads, I felt like she was singing directly to me, the poor soul- no girlfriend and nothing in sight. A cactus in the desert, as I referred to myself. The old tune” The Water is Wide” left me shattered along with ” Someone to lay down beside me.” But things started to pick up and eventually I found the love of my life with my Janet. 012_karlabonoff

I spent a lot of time in the car and still do. My percussion skills on the steering wheel, aka timbalis, go well with my bass drum gas pedal. Now mind you, I don’t endanger myself but the truck drivers laugh when they look down on me and see me rockin’ with the ladies on the radio in my Jeep.

Janet and I found a new female recording artist when we went to an outdoor concert at Hartwood Acres here in Pittsburgh, and first saw bluegrass sensation Allison Krauss and Union Station. I had always liked bluegrass although the genre was lost on my bride. But sitting up front in the cool evening of late summer, she was enthralled with Allison’s voice and song selection and soon we had all the CDs and I played them relentlessly on the road tapping the steering wheel and swinging and swaying my way down the turnpike. alisonjpg-8733181b71368ffa

So why the fascination with female singers? I can tell you it is not anything sexual, but rather somehow, a woman singing is really beautiful to me. It had been that way since I was a little child and when I first heard stereo recordings of some of the world’s best female singers, I was hooked. Opera singers, folk singers, rock singers, they all had that quality of voice that appealed to me and although I rock out in the car to The Dead, The New Riders, The Eagles, The Stones, and on and on at ear splitting decibels, I find that most of the time, I am listening to the soothing sounds of female folk singers and soft rockers.

I am open to new artists and listening to Pandora the other day, I was taken by a singer who passed away in 1996. Eva Cassidy had a wonderful voice and her renditions of blues favorites are really well done. Imagine that I had not heard of her until now?maxresdefault She actually only gained notoriety after her death and it is a shame that she is gone. Her rendition of ” What a Wonderful World” and ” Over the Rainbow” left me speechless when I first heard them. Please take the time and listen to her and see if you are taken the same way that I was. Really….listen to this. https://youtu.be/2rd8VktT8xY

I have listened to a lot of music over the years, and when you put as much time in the car as I have, you gain an appreciation for music and lyrics. I am constantly searching for new artists but still play the old tunes. I sing with the ladies on the road, in the shower, and anywhere my travels take me. The truckers till laugh. Thanks for reading.

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The Adirondack Experience

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As I was winding my way through the Keene Valley this week en route to Lake Placid and Whiteface Ski Area, I was once again reminded why this road is voted one of the most scenic highways in the country. It is winter in the North Country and despite all the conversation of global warming, this region not only gets winter weather, but the residents enthusiastically embrace it. Whiteface was the scene of the 1980 Olympic alpine skiing events and my group of aging enthusiasts skied the Summit Chair reveling in the crystal blue skies and packed powder of the runs that once served as the start of the women’s and men’s downhill. Following a great day on the mountain, Lake Placid offers an atmosphere that still is electric with Olympic fever. Lake Placid was the host of the Winter Olympics in 1980 and 1932 and the Olympic Regional Development Authority manages all of the venues which still offer competition sites for many different winter sports to this day. img_1356img_1353

Every year, I make the journey to the Adirondacks to see my old friend Mike Smith who owns a marina on Lake George. Joining us this year, making the trip from Randolph Center, Vermont, was another friend Mark Hutchinson. Hutch coached ski racing at Stowe for 20 years and at 150 days per year in those days, he has a lot of experience in those legs of his. Couple this with Mike Smith, my skiing, sky diving, acrobatic plane flying, speed boat selling, motorcycle riding, gas pedal to the floor friend, you have the recipe for a couple of days of great skiing in a beautiful venue. But more than the skiing, there are many reasons that I like visiting the Adirondacks. img_1370

First and foremost, the scenery of the High Peaks region is incredible. As you wind your way through the mountains, along some of the most picturesque streams, and the Hudson River, you see nature at it’s finest. The roaring rivers choked with ice are a dramatic reminder of the power of water. The trees at the summit of the mountains remind you of giant ice cream cones covered in a white frosting. But another part of the Adirondack experience lies with the people themselves. Sitting around Bean’s Country Store in Queensbury, New York, you have a relaxed atmosphere of sitting over a coffee and talking to the locals who regale you with tales of snowmobiling, and skiing, with really no rush to go anywhere. The people are hard working and used to braving the elements, but you get the sense that they love living where they do and the harsher the winter, the more they embrace it with their enthusiastic attitude. img_1369

We made our way to Gore Mountain yesterday which has that Adirondack feel to it. But as most ski areas that are run by the State of New York,there is not much real estate development, which leads to a private ski club atmosphere. The Backwoods Ski Club meets there regularly which basically is an organization of local retirees and active people in the ski community whose sole purpose is to enjoy skiing and sit around and talk about it over a meal and a cold one. No dues, no meetings, just show up and ski together. The oldest member is 91 years young. It is so neat to hear his tales of life in the Adirondacks back in the early part of the 20th century.
At Gore, you can ski two of the steepest runs in New York State. Rumor and Lies both make you think about that first turn and it is not a rumor or a lie to say that they are challenging. But the locals love it when the challenge is extended to outsiders. The fireplace at the end of the day offers definite rumors and lies about the performance of the skiers that day, but the smell of that fireplace along with a beverage is one of the reasons why I always return to the Adirondacks year after year.IMG_0084

Making my way home along NY State Route 8, I am always amazed at how remote some sections of the Adirondacks can be. I took some pictures and hardly ever saw a truck or a car along the route. The North Country is rugged and although my wife likes the summers in Lake George and the vistas from Mike Smith’s Pilot Knob Marina deck, I personally like the winters. Not just for the skiing, but taking in the whole atmosphere of small towns, crystal clear streams, the High Peaks, and the charming Olympic town of Lake Placid. Nothing like a cold beer at The Cottage looking out on Mirror Lake where you can see pick up hockey games everywhere. photo

Sometimes I think I am misplaced living down here in the banana belt where you have to be tenacious to ski and get your days in. But it is nice to know that I have good friends in ski country and if you make the effort to visit, their welcome is enhanced by the region of the country that offers great vistas and challenging terrain. Think Snow. I want some more winter before it is all said and done. Thanks for reading.

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The Cinnamon Roll ( and it’s cousin- The Sticky Bun)

In my January 8th 2015 post, I told you about my plight as an acraphobic skier. I opened up and admitted that I am afraid of heights which is kind of strange for a skier. But I suffer through the aerial tram rides and chairlifts to get to the top. Now, I bare my soul again and reveal a hidden vice that due to my upbringing in Catholic guilt ridden hell, I must reveal. I am an addict. I am addicted to cinnamon rolls and sticky buns. o-1

Sadly, this aversion to healthy eating began with my wife’s grandmother Thelma Curren, who made hot, fresh sticky buns in the oven and called me over to my future in-laws house when they were ready. I was not a coffee drinker at the time, and prepared for the feast by bringing my own freshly squeezed orange juice and enjoying my own rack of buns with raisins. These were prepared especially for me much to the chagrin of my future brother in laws and my future wife Janet. How dare Mrs. Curren make Pat McCloskey his own batch. I loved every bite.

Fast forward to riding my road bike at the Jersey Shore. As I make my 50 mile round trip to Cape May and back to Avalon, I justify my stops at Mallon’s, which after much research, I found to have the best sticky buns at the Shore. I bring a rack back to my family who devours them with glee and then they tell me to never bring them back again. Their perpetual diets are sabotaged by this practice so after the first rack, I ride to Mallon’s and eat a rack by myself, sweating and stinking all over their outside bench. The minimum order is 6 buns and if I cannot inhale them all with a coffee, I sneak the rest back to the condo and hide them in the fridge. I make my way back from the beach feigning a bathroom break and sneak the buns out to the microwave an no one finds out. ocean-city

This helpless habit continues to this day on ski trips. I volunteer always to go to the grocery store after skiing and sneak a bun or a roll on the way back. I find the great bakeries. A weekly ritual in the winter, locally, is to stop on the way back from Laurel Mountain and eat a couple of cinnamon rolls from The Pie Shoppe in Laughlintown. Nothing makes the drive home easier than a coffee and a couple of rolls. o I used to bribe my son Jack to come skiing with me by enticing him with a visit to the Pie Shoppe and he always bit. Now beer is a more likely bait for him. But not for me. As much as I like my IPAs, I will take the buns and the rolls first and foremost.

Penn State people like my wife will extol the virtues of the grilled stickies from Ye Old College Diner in State College, Pa. These mass produced beauties are great grilled and can provide a doughy base in your stomach after an all star night on the town. ye-old-college-diner-stickies But something is lost on me with these buns when you can buy them in the local grocery stores as well as at the Diner. The fresh, warm bun or cinnamon roll right out of the oven in a great bakery cannot be beat. I know my health conscious friends are rolling their eyes at me now and even though I try to eat mostly healthy fare, I can’t help myself when tempted with these treats after a great ride or a ski day. But I know other people slip, like my chiropractor who is deeply into holistic health. Even he goes off the wagon here and there by buying a bag of cookies from Whole Foods and devouring them before he gets home. I outed you Ray. Guilty people love company.

The only justification for this aversion to healthy eating is my diligence in trying to pay for the indiscretion. I truly think in my mind that I can run off that bun or cycle off that roll. I will sweat like a dog trying to burn up that treat and in my mind, after a vigorous workout, I have paid the price. Only to be tempted again in a day or two and the whole vicious cycle of sin and penance begins anew. img_1547

As I have grown older, I have finally found the holy grail of cinnamon rolls dangerously close my home. The Bartram House Bakery has, hands down, the most delicious, cinnamon packed, warm doughy treat one could ever consume. It is so decadent that I find myself paying for it with an over extreme workout. Instead of being a connoisseur of the sticky bun and the cinnamon roll, I have become a common sewer with weekly stops. What am I supposed to do? This sweet toothed practice haunts me as I struggle to lead the healthy lifestyle. So there it is. I have outed myself, dropped my drawers and told you of the struggle that plagues me. I have come out of the closet much like a drinker and the first step to redemption is to admit it. But, chances are, you will catch me sometime with a smile on my face and icing all over my chin. Thanks for reading.

by

The Age of Dissent

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Watching all the news lately, takes me back to a time in my life when I first became acquainted with dissent in this country on a personal basis. I had seen the disruption of the Democratic National Convention in 1968 on television while I was in high school and the protests to the Vietnam War. chicago8 I remember registering for the draft and getting number 11. Had the war continued one or two more years, my life would have changed immensely.

I remember guys like Jerry Rubin and Abbie Hoffmann and wondered, in a high school way, what this was all about and how it applied to my life. Fast forward to college, my room mate and I became friends with a girl who was studying Native American Affairs and invited us to spend the weekend at the Seneca Corn Planter reservation up near the New York State border. We learned a lot about how the federal government had relocated their reservation due to the construction of the Kinzua Dam and how the spartan concrete block residences had replaced their native habitat on the original reservation. I chuckled when one of the older tribesmen offered to play Native American music for us. We were excited for the show only to be treated to an hour of listening to a reel to reel tape. But the old guy was sincere in entertaining and educating us. The younger folks observed us with a wary eye and as I bought some bead work necklaces in the store, I was told that not many white people were allowed to buy things in that store. I was polite in my appreciation. That weekend opened my eyes to a situation in which I started to take great interest.

When I was working in Sugarloaf, Maine after graduation, I learned that our friend Debbie was working for Ted Kennedy and was involved in the Passamaquoddy Indian Trial in Maine. I had read ” Bury my Heart at Wounded Knee” by Dee Brown and was familiar with Dennis Banks and the American Indian Movement. dennis-banks_2nr7jdownload As it turned out, Dennis Banks and Russell Means were in Maine for the trial in full native attire and Debbie invited me to see the proceedings. She told me I would have to sit in the balcony with the AIM protesters and that I should say that I was a journalist. She said some of the protests had become violent and wanted to warn me, but I was excited to see the proceedings in light of my experience with the Cornplanters and my interest in history. However, I got a call in the morning from Debbie who said not to come because a couple of  the AIM protesters had beaten her attorney and the trial was cancelled until further notice. Again, I was kind of wide eyed at the whole protest movement and kept in touch with Debbie on the status of the trial and whether the Passamaquoddy tribe had any rights to retake large portions of the state of Maine.

Growing up in the 60s, I became familiar with dissent and protest in this country. Being a history buff, I know that protest has been a hallmark of our free society since the origins of our country. From the Boston Tea Party organized by Samuel Adams in 1773 to the Whiskey Rebellion here in Western Pennsylvania protesting what was seen as an unfair tax on distillers in the region. 438448_v1

Personally, I think it is healthy to have discussion, debate and discourse on subjects that affect all of us as Americans. I know that protest has historically become violent at times to promote the cause but I do have a hard time recognizing what I see as random violence like smashing windows and burning vehicles. I guess that is where I tend to draw the line- anarchy versus protest. I am still coming to terms with that.

I never wanted to get political in my blog or Facebook pages and the intent here is to continue that protocol.250px-bury_my_heart_at_wounded_knee_cover But I know there are always two sides to every story. I have my personal beliefs, but in this day of great polarization in our country, I think it is important for all of us Americans to discuss, debate and not personalize the differences with name calling and vitriol. Thomas Jefferson once said,” Every difference of opinion is not a difference of principal.” I believe deep down that most Americans recognize that we live in a great country and are blessed in comparison to most places in the world. Our differences can be discussed with civility as we are all Americans united in continually trying to improve our country and our government. Dissent is nothing new and can be healthy as history has proven. Thanks for reading.