Sunday, December 28, 2014

Mom, Moma, Ma, Mother

  Mom, Moma, Ma, Mother known to her children. MadLENE to her siblings and her mother. She loved her family. Her parents, her siblings, and her children. She had a special place in her heart for her grandchildren and great grandchildren.
How did she do it, I have heard many ask? Raise eight children, many by herself. She didn't have all the right answers. How many parents do? She raised them the best she knew how, she did it her way. Life in North Nobleboro, where she raised her children was very busy, hectic, bordering on madness. It took an even hand from her and Dad to rear eight very busy children.
"You kids go outside!" she would yell. Now as a parent I understand why she sent us out. She too, like myself as a parent, needed some quiet time to herself. We were good kids, because our parents cared. When we made mistakes we had to pay. Moma did her very best to teach us to be respectable citizens.
We didn't have much, sometimes having to wear hand me downs so they could make ends meet. Some how they managed to put food on the table, clothes on our backs and a roof over our heads, eight kids. Both parents worked hard to provide for us. She would cook, clean, iron our clothes, make our beds and take care of us, plus go to her eight hour a day job.
Christmas time was always a special time for her. She would always try to provide the best Christmas for us kids. I heard that she and dad had to borrow money at times to give us the best Christmases that they could. I will always remember the Christmases of past as a special time thanks to her.
Mom was our doctor and our nurse, bandaging up our bumps and bruises. She soak our feet in Epsom salt when we cut or drove pitch forks in them. Checked our temperatures when we felt a little hot. Took out splinters when we needed all the while giving us tough love preparing us for the world ahead.
She was patient with me during my first year in school. She knew that I was a Moma's boy, who hated to leave her skirt. She knew when to be tough on me getting me on the bus and easy allowing me a adjust to this change in my life. She did this many times with all of us. Allowing us to adjust, just applying enough pressure to see it through. Though she didn't often show her emotions, her actions showed her love. It took me until this period in life to see this.
I can remember the many times going to her house to help her out. Mowing the lawn, cutting and spiting wood. Or just to visit and fill her bird feeders. She would have the TV on watching her favorite team the Red Sox. How she loved and faithfully watched that team. She was so excited when she got to see the Sox win the World Series!
Mother was a small person but she was big both in personality and toughness. She never allowed anything to get the best of her. She would never sugar coat things telling us just how it was. The way it was. She was honest, brutally honest at times. She was the toughest woman I have known. She laid the foundation making me the man I am today I am amazed by her strength. When we told her she could no longer drive her car, she fought us back. She battled cancer for a long time and fought valiantly going down swinging. She was a champ!
I owe Ma so much for her sacrifices for me. I will never be able to repay her. The most important gift that she gave me was the gift of God. Allowing me to grow in my youth as a Christian. I owe partly to her my eternal life. Thank you Moma, for such a great gift!

You never fully appreciate people in your life, until they are gone. It only takes a short period of time to see this and realize just how important she was to me. I will miss my Mom, Moma, Ma, Mother, but will wait patently until we meet again in heaven. I will never forget you and will cherish my memories that I have with you forever. May you rest in peace in heaven surrounded by God and your loved ones, enjoying love and happiness for eternity.   

Thursday, June 02, 2005

If A Soldier Could Tell his Story

Bombs crashing from above on his left, artillery and gun fire to his right. Above cold icy rain was falling down on his newly issued helmet as he shivered hunkered down in his foxhole that he just finished shortly before sunset. Montell Ross Jr. known as Monty had just finished boot camp and was shipped to Europe, like many before him, to fight for his country, the world. His friend, we’ll call him Bobby, was hunkered down in his own foxhole just a few feet away, and was balled up trying to stay warm. Monty like all the new recruits around him was scared, frightened and cold.
Blood of the lost soldiers pouring into the little streams and indents in the cold slippery mud. The faint sounds of American and Germen screaming lost in the harsh rain in the German Lands. Monty huddled up in his foxhole hoping that this war would soon be over so he can return home. Lying there just shooting in to the dark forests where the Germans were concealed. Waiting for his Lieutenant’s command but noticing that he lay dead in his fox hole along with his own puddle of blood.
Monty laid there with thoughts about home. The smell of his mother’s apple pie, jumping in the old model T, riding up and down the dusty dirt roads on a hot summer’s day. He was thinking about all the good times he spent with his two older brothers, fishing, swimming and working on the farm. When the Allies landed at Normandy during D-Day this had all changed. Somewhere in the European Theater, both of his older brothers were serving in the war and could also have been in harm’s way. A fourth brother was state side training for that day he too would walk on German soil.
It was midnight the rain had finally stopped. The clouds finally drifted away and the moon was bright. Monty finally got a chance to think since the gunfire and bombing slowed, but not enough to fall asleep. As he looked up at the stars noticing that his friend wasn’t asleep either. Monty figured at that point that the only soldiers that were asleep lay dead in the mud. Looking up at the stars still feeling wet from the blood of soldiers and the lieutenant. Monty turned over and found his friend Bobby crying. Monty wondered if it was from the loss of soldiers and friends or was it simply he missed his family.
The night played on, minutes seemed like hours. Even though the rain had stopped, he laid there soaked, cold and lonely. By now poor Bobby had drifted off to sleep. Monty too was occasionally dosing off. Though he felt miserable lying in the German landscape, his body was begging him for sleep. He drifted in and out, awakening from an occasional gun shot. Both sides weren’t moving, waiting for daylight to continue the onslaught.
Time seemed to stand still. Monty wondered when this fight would be over with. Slowly he faded out of reality. He was back home mowing the front lawn. Oh the smell of a freshly cut grass. He took pride in a nicely cut lawn. The sounds of birds, the buzzing of bees, the warm sun on his face. Gone, all gone he thought. What would happen, happen to him and so many others he though? Off in the distance was a loud explosion, bringing him back to reality.
Daylight was approaching and things would start heating up again. The Germans were reeling from the day before and would soon be pushing to gain back, what they had lost. It would be a long day, but push ahead the American would.
At sunrise the sounds of war could be heard again. Monty, Bobby and many other troops were still hunkered in they’re fox holes, waiting for the order to push forward. Today was expected to be perhaps the bloodiest of all.
The United States artillery began firing salvos at the German lines. The German soldiers were reeling from the barrage. Monty couldn’t hear a thing over the crashing of the artillery rounds. Soon it would be his turn, his and the other’s who were waiting to march towards the enemy lines.
Just like the battle before, the General’s would give word for the troops to go and the orders would filter down the chain of command until finally the leaders on the ground would give the orders.
Finally the order came and the soldiers were crawling in the cold wet mud, on their bellies toward what could be the end of their lives. Gun shot’s could be heard. The squad’s assignment was to secure a tiny bridge and stop any advancement from troops who may be in reserves. Monty couldn’t tell which side was firing. He and his squad, lead by Sergeant Sample slowly crawled towards the enemy. His squad began to engage the enemy. Smoke made it very difficult to see a thing. Bobby, who was next to him, could no longer be seen. Only another soldier who Monty couldn’t remember his name was visible.

To be cont.

Thursday, January 20, 2005

The Story Behind Bold Dragon

Where did my nick name Bold Dragon originate from? Well have you ever been to Cooperstown N.Y., home of the Baseball Hall Of Fame. Back in 1987, on a gorgeous and colorful fall October day, I visited the Hall Of Fame with a friend. We visited the town of Cooperstown, for three days. If you have been to the Baseball Hall Of Fame, you would know that, you can visit the museum and tour the site within a day. So now Bill and I needed to figure out what we were going to do for the rest of the time, we had in New York. Now Cooperstown is a beautiful village. It is nestled in the picturesque rolling hills, bordering the Susquehanna River and Otsego Lake. A quaint small village, tucked in a side street, in the hub of Cooperstown was this tiny bar that my friend and I happened upon. Hey we had nothing better to do, so we stopped in. Bill being a fanatic was logging everything we did, from our starting point on the Mid Coast of Maine, through the White Mountains of New Hampshire, past the Green Mountains of Vermont, all the way through the Adirondacks and into Cooperstown. So it wasn’t unlike him to notice the name of the bar, so he could log it down, in his log book. Anyway we had a few beers and then retired for the night. Cooperstown was a lot of fun and I would recommend it for any baseball lover. Six months after our trip to the Hall Of Fame, Bill and I founded a Fantasy baseball League. We started an eight team league, with a bunch of friends and co-workers. I was having difficulty naming my fantasy team, so Bill knowing how fond I was of the little side street bar in New York, suggested that I name my team after the bar. Well at the time, we both falsely named my team the, Bold Dragons. In 1988, the name Bold Dragon was created. Our Fantasy League, the Mid Coast Fantasy Baseball League, through thick and thin, has survived to this time, only hours before the stroke of twelve, prior to the New Year, 2005. Later that year 1988, Bill was reading over his log book, and discovered that he and I falsely named my team, as it was our intentions to name my team after the bar in Cooperstown. After discovering the real name for perhaps my favorite bar, I decided to keep my team, nickname, user name or whatever I, he or you want to call it, Bold Dragon. Well by now I suppose you’re wondering what the tiny bar in a small village, nestled in the picturesque rolling hills, bordering the Susquehanna River and Otsego Lake, in the State Of New York was named. I will never forget our first trip to The Baseball Hall Of Fame and the night we visited the tiny bar named “The Bold Dragoon.”