On The Sly

My grandmothers would not be happy. My own mom, now 84, and still a great cook (her goulash, her chop suey, her cabbage rolls are beyond compare!) will not be happy. But what I share with you today has been whispered about in bars and restaurants, in basketball gymnasiums and hockey arenas, over the past two weeks. It's time for me to finally just say it! INSTANT MASHED POTATOES ARE GREAT!

I have avoided this topic my entire life. There is no way that something that comes in a box would taste better than the real grown-in-the-dirt or aged-on-the-vine vegetable. Impossible! But it's true! I have tasted this first hand. And I've always been called a "meat-and-potatoes" guy, so I should know.

Oh, the sight of Grandma Jock and Grandma Gagnon (who we called "Miner") peeling potatoes in front of the kitchen sink is still fresh in my mind. Likewise, my mom has peeled countless potatoes in her lifetime. More than a 50-pound bag ... perhaps a room full of 50-pound bags because the Gagnon boys are "meat-and-potatoes" guys.

And even I, whenever I took it upon myself to shop and cook, would grab the russets rather than look for a vegetable in a box. And peel, peel, peel with potato peelings flying around the kitchen. But not anymore!

This is all thanks to my longtime friend Mike Flynn, who let me in on the secret now that he's retired and become the chef of the Flynn household. MIke's description left my mouth watering. He used words like "creamy" and "buttery" and "easy." I was all ears! It had been over a year since the Fox household had eaten mashed potatoes. I'd grown too lazy to peel, didn't want to take the time to cook, and grown too lazy to pick up the mess. However, inspired by Mike Flynn's eloquent description of instant mashed potatoes I couldn't wait to try them myself.

The very next day I entered the grocery store, bypassed the produce section with a grin (feeling the eyes of the potatoes watching me!) and searched for the aisle with the boxes of instant mashed potatoes. It took less than a minute. So many choices -- with cheese, with onions, with .. with ... with .... but I wanted the original, good ol' "homestyle creamy butter" mashed potatoes.

That evening I prepared them. Have you ever looked at this stuff before you prepare it? I immediately questioned Mike Flynn's description. Mike has always been a prankster, you know. Had he set me up for a "wild Fox chase" to the grocery store? What I saw inside the box was more like soap flakes, dried-up skin pieces, or Andre the Giant's dandruff!

Minutes later, however, I was one happy "meat-and-potatoes" guy! I enjoyed the creamiest, butteriest, tastiest mashed potatoes I have ever eaten. And in just a few minutes! Oh, who would have thought? A guy like me who has resisted change his entire life is now buying boxes of potatoes! What's next? Instant corn on the cob? Instant asparagus? Oh, that Mike Flynn is quite a guy!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 10:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

Yesterday marked the "one-week anniversary" of the "On the Sly" blog. With over a thousand hits in a week and averaging about 300 hits per day, I am happy that this idea has been so well received. In addition, there have been over 50 comments posted in the first week. From my perspective the readers' comments become very important to the success of a blog. They add to the original thought, they provide a different perspective to the original thought, they add humor, and may inspire me with material for future blogs. The comments thus far have been interesting and I thank those who have participated:

Concerning "Tale of a Tail": there were pros and cons on the subject of Foxy Gagnon growing a ponytail. The support or lack thereof came from Tampa to Texas to Plattsburgh. My ponytail quest continues, and my next question becomes, "Where in the world do people buy hair-ties?"

Concerning "Cold Feet": Cindy agreed that "Mothers know best." Very true, as my Mom has had so many other helpful suggestions through the years, such as, "Eat your carrots," and "There's already enough salt in the soup" and "Always make sure your underwear doesn't have holes in them."

The blog about "Family Tradition" brought several comments: W. wrote of the family tradition in an older Plattsburgh of Christmas shopping the length of Margaret Street. W. added many other interesting and/ or humorous thoughts. And, I heard from my cousins in California and long-lost friends from all over the country who commented on the newborn blog.

"North Country Nicknames" may become a series: "Cricket" posted her thanks that I did not include her real first name. I had actually considered having an "answer key" at the end of the blog with the real first names of each nickname mentioned, but decided against it. I guess I made the right decision. And readers suggested other nicknames, like "Bucket" Trombly and "Fuzzy" Fesette. However, W. advised against the book idea because it would be too difficult to organize and I'd run the risks of offending someone. Worth considering, W.

My most recent blog "Growing Up" brought a variety of responses: Chris wrote poignant comments about a death in the family in July and how Christmas was different without "grandpa." He included reminders to "cherish each day." Thanks for sharing, Chris. My own son posted a comment, and paid me a compliment, which I humbly published. And Lorna knows what the "Growing Up" blog was all about as her own son Cale, 27, left the area a few years ago for better jobs and better weather. And to hear from Eileen Curtis after so many years was gratifying. A writer, a poet, Eileen was a student teacher with me at Stafford Middle School. She lived in the Peru area, where she had a great family and a great apple orchard.

Readers' comments to "On the Sly" do matter, and they become a part of what a blog is all about. It's intended to be an interactive activity, and I look forward to readers' participation as the blog ages towards its "one-month anniversary" on January 22nd.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 8:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)

I just got back from the post office. Mailed a box of Christmas presents to my son Erik and his wife Sarah in Cohoes (next door to Albany). Yes, two days late, but when you buy unique Christmas gifts on eBay you have to expect that some will arrive late.

But it occured to me on the way home that this would be the first Christmas that I wouldn't be there to watch Erik open his gifts from me. Oh, sure, he's 27 and has a life of his own. But he had always been in the North Country and we could get together either Christmas Eve or Christmas Day to open gifts. Not this year ... his work schedule kept him in Cohoes. My drive home from the post office brought memories of Erik being four years old, and shouting, "Just what I only wanted" when he opened each Christmas present from Mom and Dad. And memories of him being twelve and breaking into a huge grin when he opened the box that held a Mets jacket autographed by Gregg Jefferies, his favorite baseball player.

This year when he opens the presents from Dad only his wife Sarah will be there ... no Dad to enjoy the smiles and exclamations with the opening of each gift. I guess it's just a step for me in the growing up process ... time to let go of my little boy ... and time for me to take another step in becoming an adult ... what's next? Becoming a grandfather? Perhaps someday I'll get there ... be an adult, I mean ... I hope I make it!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 4:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

I've been asked many times through the years, "Is Foxy your real name?" My usual retort is, "No, and I have that nickname for all the wrong reasons!" The North Country has always been a great place for nicknames. One of the first I ever encountered was "Pickles" Proctor, by far the most colorful basketball referee I ever saw. He coached Little League baseball in Plattsburgh in the early days and it was a thrill when I got to meet him. Later I met another "Pickles" -- "Pickles" Tolosky from Lyon Mountain. Ask Joe Staves, Plattsburgh High School's athletic director, and he can give you a long list of guys from Lyon Mountain who picked up nicknames through the years.

In fact, I've had plans for years that when I retired from teaching I would write a book called NICKNAMES OF THE NORTH COUNTRY. The list of great North Country nicknames is endless. In most cases, the nickname grew so large that the person's real first name has been entirely forgotten. There aren't many people who can tell me the real first name of "Ducky" Drake, WIRY radio's longtime sports and news personality. And what about Beekmantown's football coach? Is his real first name "Crusher"? And speaking of coaches, what about "Dutch" Craumer? Or, "Shorty" Flynn. Did you ever know his real first name?

One of my favorite nicknames belongs to "Nubby" O'Connell, longtime sports official and a great athlete in his day. It's easy to guess how "Lefty" Tessier got his nickname, but who knows his real first name? And when I played high school sports one of my toughest opponents was "Scooter" Giroux. One of Plattsburgh State's greatest basketball players in the 1950s was "Pop" Bullock. His real first name seems to escape most people's memory.

Do you remember the Golden Gloves boxer from Plattsburgh named "Popcorn" Smallacombe? How did he ever get that nickname? And what is his real first name? The 1969 American Legion Post 20 baseball team that won the state championship had a great pitcher - "Pip" LaFontaine. And you can bet the great athlete and coach "Bud" Miller picked up that nickname in a way other than a connection to a beverage. The 1949-1950 St. John's Academy basketball team ranks toward the top as great hoop teams in the North Country. One of their key players was "Tank" Squires. Maybe "Dud" Bullis was on that team, too. Back in 1942 "Diddy" Beauchemin pitched three no-hitters in baseball for Cadyville High School.

My book would not be at a loss for content. It seems there's a whole family of Rocks in the Peru area with great nicknames, enough for an entire chapter just to themselves.

It is no coincidence that most great North Country nicknames belong to men. But some of my favorite women can make their claim. There's "Cricket" Terry, who never admits to her real first name. And "Poppy" Rock was a great softball player and basketball official. I can only guess that "Poppy" is a nickname, but I've never known her real first name. I've known the aforementioned Joe Staves for about fifty years, but can't tell you his mom's real first name -- we knew her as "Sis."

I guess the list is about endless, and, very likely, a reader or two could add some great North Country nicknames to my list. What with "Foxy," "Goose," and "Ducky" roaming the streets of Plattsburgh it seems right that the North Country also have a "Zoo" -- "Zoo" LeClair!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 6:56 AM | Permalink | Comments (13)

Today is December 24th ... Christmas Eve ... and at noon today my brother Goose and I will continue a family tradition that began over 75 years ago.

It seems that in 1929 on December 24th the Gagnon boys ... no, not Foxy and Goose, but Ralphe and Ray (sons of Leo and Alvina Gagnon) ... were admiring the gifts under the Christmas tree at their home. Ralphe was 12 years old and Ray was just 7, and they sure were curious about what goodies were waiting under the colorful Christmas wrapping paper. The boys considered opening "just one," but feared they might "get in trouble" if they tried to satisfy their curiousity to any degree. After several minutes of "you open one ... no, you open one ..." and "I'll open one if you open one," the boys each grabbed a present with their name on it. With childish grins they proceeded, for the first time, to open one Christmas gift ahead of time, and thus was born a Gagnon family tradition.

Because the following year the Gagnon boys again opened one Christmas present a day early, and as they got older, so did the tradition. As time passed and Ralphe and Ray got older, they decided that each December 24th no matter where each of them might be, all things would stop and they would exchange gifts precisely at noontime.

In 1940 Ralphe left the area, starting a family in Massena and later moving the family to Las Cruces, New Mexico and, eventually, to California. But they never forgot the exchange of gifts at noon on December 24th. It became an important event in our family as Goose and I grew up, watching our Dad (Ray) open the gift from Uncle Ralphe. And, at that very moment thousands of miles away, Uncle Ralphe would be doing the same, often with his children Michael, Jim and Gail watching.

The Christmas Eve tradition between Ralphe and Ray, the original Gagnon boys, lasted 53 years, until our Dad died in November 1983. As Christmas 1983 approached Goose and I talked about how that year the wonderful family tradition would be ending. But, wait, we were the new Gagnon boys ... we could carry on that Gagnon family tradition! So, with a wink of an eye and a turn of a head, Goose and I decided that the Gagnon family tradition could continue through us. So, that December 24th precisely at noon, Goose and I met at Mom's on Johnson Avenue and exchanged gifts and hugs.

Uncle Ralphe, now 88 years old, still lives in California with Aunt Peggy, now 86. They have been married 65 years. Today at noon New York time Uncle Ralphe will stop whatever he is doing. "I'll say a prayer to my brother at noontime. That is the only thing we can exchange now," he told me last night on the phone. And Uncle Ralphe and our Dad Ray will be in our thoughts today at noon as Goose and I exchange gifts. I wonder what Goose got me this year. Hair-ties for my future ponytail? A pair of wool socks to keep my feet warm? A gift certificate to my favorite restaurant? Oh, it doesn't really matter. The important thing is that the Gagnon family tradition will continue one more year. Merry Christmas, little brother!

Do you have a unique or special holiday family tradition? I'd love to hear about it.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 6:41 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)

My brother Goose is often my broadcast partner when we cover local high school football and basketball games for the public-access TV channel. We like to remember the 1960s when we played sports and it never fails to bring up a discussion about how much has changed since we played. Oh, there are still 5 on a side for basketball and 11 each way for football, but have you noticed how some of the traditions have changed?

Whatever happened to knee pads? Back in the Sixties knees pads were part of the basketball uniform. If you forgot to bring your knee pads to the game, the coach would be mad and you'd feel embarrassed ... out on the court the only one without those knee pads! They were even color-coordinated with the uniform. St. John's Academy, guys like Willie Watson, Harry Canning and Pete Hayden, wore green knee pads. Bruce Stevens, Jeff Burns and Stick Larocque over at Plattsburgh High School had black knee pads. And at Our Lady of Victory Academy I wore maroon knee pads, along with my teammates Gary Leavine, Gordie Coryea and Billy McNeil. When did knee pads go out of style?

And those shoes! The $10 Converse All-Star or Chuck Taylor high tops have given way to $100 brand name pump-the-air-in, ultra-cushioned, lowcut, smooth-move basketball shoes. Even in football we wore high tops. Nothing fancy, just plain old black high tops. And we were still able to make 60-yard touchdown runs without those expensive lowcut football shoes.

Goose often points out that football has changed in another much more obvious way. Back in our day the quarterback called the plays. After a play all 11 guys would reassemble in the huddle and the quarterback called the next play: "32 on 2," for example. That's all it took. Nowadays a high school quarterback will finish the play, run to the sidelines to get the next play from the coach, and then huddle with his teammates. Takes much more time, and, we figure, cuts down on the actual number of scoring opportunities a team might have during a game. When did that change? Who was the first coach to decide, "I'm calling the plays from now on. This quarterback play-calling just isn't working out"? And is there a coach brave enough to hand the play-calling back over to the quarterback next season?

Have you noticed the music playing while football and basketball teams warm up prior to game time? Can you imagine Coach Barry Branon or Coach Al Pajonas or Coach John Flynn allowing that? Teams nowadays even wait along the sidelines for the music to play before they can run out on the court! Do singing groups like AC/DC ("Thunder"), House of Pain ("Jump Around") and Will Smith ("Gettin' Jiggy Wit' It") really inspire athletes to perform better? I just can't picture us in the Sixties shooting our warmup layups to the songs of Elvis, Danny & the Juniors and the Lovin' Spoonful. Hey, maybe that would have worked! The Lovin' Spoonful sang "Do You Believe in Magic?" That's what it would have taken for us to beat PHS!

There are probably others changes in high school sports since the Sixties (maybe readers can add to the list!), but you get the point. Goose and I think some changes are for the better, some for the worse, but we sure liked high school sports in our day.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 8:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

The blog made its debut today, and thanks for the many comments that readers sent, including notes of encouragement, snippets of memories and a few downright funny thoughts! However, the website experienced some problems handling all of it, and, even though some comments were posted for a brief time, they have been lost in the land of technology.

I hope some of you will resend your initial comments so that they can be re-posted.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 2:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

This winter I'm keeping my feet warm! With the temperatures in the North Country hovering in the zero range lately, I'm finally taking my mom's advice: Keep your feet warm. Mom has always had this theory that the best way to catch the flu bug is to wear thin socks in the wintertime. I'm not messing around anymore! Year after year I've been hit with what always seems more than my fair share of flu bugs. Not this year. A few weeks ago I went to a local store and bought four pairs of heavy woolen socks. Problem is they are all the same color, same design, so anyone noticing my socks this winter will think I am wearing the same pair of socks all winter. I'm not! But I don't care! Let them think what they will! I'm just wondering if Mom's advice is based on scientific fact. Nevertheless, she's finally made a believer out of me. I intend to breeze (or freeze?) through this winter with warm feet ... and not even a sniffle! I'll keep you posted!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 8:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Ah, retirement ... as some readers know, retirement can create so many changes in one's life. My new-found absence from a regular job has been overwhelmingly happy thus far. But I'm only officially into my fourth month of retired status. After 35 years as a middle school teacher, my day is no longer determined by the sound of a bell. I've found myself at my computer at 3 in the morning or visiting with friends at 10 in the morning or cooking a pizza at midnight. I've been engulfed with this amazing sense that time is a lot less relevant. I've even caught myself some days not wearing my watch! What is wrong with me?

This new sense of freedom has also carried over into my most recent project -- growing a ponytail! Yes, I want a ponytail! For my entire life I have had people tell me to "get a haircut." Finally, at the age of 57, there is no one standing in my way! I'm a "baby-boomer," and we grew up in the decade of psychedelic rock, flower power, and, yes, long hair.

However, in my high school years (1962-1966) Coach John Flynn and Coach Shorty Flynn and Coach Bill Flynn all were certain that guys with short hair played better. And in those days coaches were not to be questioned. So it was a "flat-top" with a "little dab'll do ya" to make it look good.

When I entered college in the late sixties I saw my chance to grow my hair long and rebel a bit. However, shortly after high school graduation, I was hired by the owners of Gus's Red Hots to be a short-order cook. When I tried to grow my hair longer Gus noticed. Somehow he had the idea that guys with short hair cooked better. So it was back to the barber shop for me! I loved the job at Gus's (Gus Niforos and Pete Larios are well-remembered) and kept it for all four years of college.

Finally, my first teaching job came along in 1970, and with the freedom of being a teacher and making a decent salary, I saw my chance to let my hair grow. No such luck! Along came Uncle Sam with a draft notice. It seems the United States Army had this idea that guys with short hair made better soldiers. Hence, I spent the next six years in the United States Army Reserves, passing inspections with a neat haircut.

By the time the late seventies rolled around I was married and my wife was certain that guys with short hair made better husbands and "looked so much younger." Since I was approaching my 30s I was looking for every edge possible and agreed to continue regular barber shop visits. As time moved on in my life, a second wife also entered the picture, a younger wife who felt "the old Fox looked so much younger" with short hair. So, again, to keep harmony in the home, I passed through my 40s and into my 50s with a bald skull framed neatly with short brown hair.

Ah, retirement ... finds me with no wife, no regular job, and happier than I've been in years! Could it be because I haven't visited a barber shop in such a long time? Finally, no one to tell me to "get a haircut." So, if you see me someplace, just humor me. Let me grow my hair long, and enjoy for the first time in my life something that has evaded me for 57 years -- a ponytail!

Hey, I may grow it, hate it and cut it off the next day. I'm anxious for the day I can wrap a hair-tie around my flowing locks and officially declare, "I have a ponytail." That day is arriving soon. And despite some warnings from friends that I'll be "just another wierd old guy with a ponytail," I am forging on. With a hairbrush the size of Texas, I take pleasure brushing my long hair each morning. Ah, retirement ... freedom to take on new challenges!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 3:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

Retirement from a teaching career has afforded me some interesting new opportunities, but, no doubt, the biggest surprise came weeks ago when someone asked, "Foxy, can you write a blog?" I've written paragraphs, essays, sports articles, magazine articles, (somewhat) scholarly reports, poems (they were terrible) and even a few very smooth love letters during my time, but that question stumped me. "What's a blog?" I wondered. And, upon asking six veteran journalists, "What's a blog?" I received six somewhat different answers. "If it's that vague, then I can do it!" I retorted.

So, what follows in the weeks (months?) ahead will be my blog (short for web log, come to find out!). My thoughts, my opinions, my questions, and, I suppose, bits and pieces of my life. Sometimes I'll reminisce about the past, and sometimes I'll wonder about the future. Hopefully, you the reader will join in, comment, inspire me, agree or disagree with me. Your thoughts count too!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 11:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)