On The Sly

There's going to be another Yankee Stadium, a bright and shiny replacement for the legendary "House that Ruth Built." Movie sequels are never as good as the originals and, in most cases, modern baseball stadiums seldom have the feel and the atmosphere of the original.

What will they call the new stadium? "The House that Jeter Built?" "The House that A-Rod Built?" How about "The House that Uncle George Built?" Regardless, I just don't think it will ever have the feel of the real Yankee Stadium, the center field patrolled by Joe D and Mickey (that's Mantle, not Rivers!) and Bernie. The stroll from the dugout to the mound taken by Whitey and Gator and Mel Stottlemyre, and all those great Yankee pitchers through the years.

And now the Mets are building a new stadium and columnist George Vecsey wants it named "Jackie Robinson Stadium," in honor of the first African-American major league baseball player, who reached the major leagues with the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1947. That creates quite a controversy. But Robinson never played for the Mets. He was retired from baseball six years before the New York Mets even existed. So, I say thumbs down to the Jackie Robinson Stadium idea for New York.

If the borough of Brooklyn, which now hosts a minor league baseball team, ever returns to the big leagues, maybe then, but not at some new stadium in Flushing.

Speaking of stadiums, my favorite major league baseball stadium of all-time is Jarry Park in Montreal, the original home of the Montreal Expos. Remember Jarry Park? During batting practice the players were side-by-side, eyeball-to-eyeball with the fans. You could get an autograph and actually carry on a conversation with the players.

That's how I met Joe Kerrigan, who was an Expos' relief pitcher in 1976. He was hanging around the Expos' dugout during batting practice and I asked him to sign his West Palm Beach Expos' minor league baseball card. We got talking about collecting autographs and baseball memorabilia, and ended up chatting for about half an hour. As game time approached he asked if I wanted to come back the next night for the game, and he offered two free tickets. Needless to say, I happily accepted, and Joe and I ended up friends during his stay in Montreal.

Kerrigan eventually became one of baseball's best pitching coaches, and he managed the Boston Red Sox for part of the 2001 season. He is now the Yankees' bullpen coach.

Jarry Park was a great place for fans. It was fun at a game. Remember "the Dancer" behind home plate, the guy who would dance up and down the steps between innings? Remember "Mr. Peanut," the peanut vendor, who would throw his bag of shelled peanuts at a customer two sections away, and the fan would toss two quarters through the air over to "Mr. Peanut"?

And the memorable players like Mack Jones, whose fans in the outfield bleachers called themselves "Jonesville," and called their beloved Mack "the Mayor of Jonesville." And Rusty Staub, "Le Grande Orange." And, just before the move to Olympic Stadium, Barry Foote beat out Gary Carter for the starting catching job, so Carter became the starting right fielder. The future Hall of Famer didn't complain, kept smiling, and, in a short time, Foote's .194 batting average earned a trade to the Phillies, opening the spot for Carter forever.

And many of my buddies will remember the bar across the street from Jarry Park, Le Canoe. You could skip batting practice and the first few innings of the game, and pour down Molsons at a low price before heading over to Le Park Jarry with thirsts quenched.

Then along came Olympic Stadium, "the Big O," and that started, as far as I'm concerned, the demise of the Expos. Honestly, I cried a tear or two on Opening Day at Olympic Stadium in 1977. Seated way up in the rafters, I could not even hear the crack of the bat, and could barely see the players. I trekked my way to the dugout area, got Joe Kerringan's attention, but we were so far away that we couldn't shake hands and had to yell to converse. In 1991 the Big O was remodeled to make the place more fan-friendly, but by then it was too late, for me, at least.

We will have to see what the new Yankee Stadium and the Mets' new stadium will be like. But I'll always remember the black and white film of Roger Maris hitting home run number 61 over that short right field fence at Yankee Stadium, and I'll always remember Jarry Park, the most fan-friendly major league park I've ever seen.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 5:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

Yesterday I awoke extra early, around 5:30, just so my voice would be ready and in tune for my debut with Corm and the Coach. Do you know Corm and the Coach? Corm is Steve Cormier and Coach is Tom Brennan, former mens' basketball coach at the University of Vermont. For years they have teamed up for their morning radio talk show on Champ 101.3, originating in Burlington.

From 5am till 9am, they banter about everything under the sun, and their humorous frank comments have sent many a laughing driver skidding off Route 89 or Route 87. I first heard about the show from Mark Donnelly, athletic trainer at Plattsburgh High School. Years ago he said, "Foxy, you've gotta listen to these guys!" I did and I was hooked.

When I first got hooked on Corm and the Coach they would have a weekly talk with Plattsburgh Mayor Clyde Rabideau. Mayor Clyde would go through his "geezum crows" and talk about what was happening in the North Country. Then when Mayor Dan Stewart took over City Hall, he continued the tradition. Mayor Dan always had plenty to talk about with Corm and the Coach, who weren't beyond poking friendly jabs at the mayor, his city and his lifestyle.

So, last month when, out of the blue, I received a phone call from the show's producer, "The Deuce," I already knew well what the Corm and the Coach Plattsburgh segment was about. But I was stunned when "The Deuce" offered me an opportunity to replace Mayor Dan as the "Plattsburgh connection." He explained it would be sort of a trial run to see if it works.

Now I can tell you right away I am nowhere near as funny as Corm, nowhere near as tall and funny as the Coach, and following in the footsteps of Mayor Clyde and Mayor Dan is no small feat. But, hey, at my age, what do I have to lose? If I make a fool of myself, I probably won't be around long enough to be bothered by it.

So, yesterday, not knowing what to expect, I went on the air at 7:20am with Corm and the Coach. They were gentle with me as I made my debut. I'm not sure how long we talked. Was it ten minutes? Corm had read my recent "On the Sly" blogs, so we talked about catherizations and political signs and my son Erik. Somehow we got a few chuckles out of it as well.

I received an e-mail from Mike Mannix noting he had enjoyed listening. And, later in the day, "The Deuce" left me voice mail that things had gone well, and they would like to have a "Plattsburgh connection" every other Tuesday around 7:20am.

Me with Corm and the Coach? I'm going to have to get a bigger baseball cap. What other opportunities are going to come my retirement way? A duet with Mariah Carey or, better yet, Shakira, Shakira? A tell-all book offer from Random House? Heck, I was even listed on the www.champrocks.com website for Corm and the Coach's agenda: "Press Republican Blogger Foxy Gagnon checks in from Plattsburgh." I even got top billing over NASCAR's Kevin LePage, who was also on the show that day.

It's only been ten minutes but Corm and the Coach feel like longtime buddies. I can picture us tipping a few at the Naked Turtle in a few weeks, surrounded by all those newly-arrived college girls. I can picture me throwing out the first ball at the Corm and the Coach Golf Tournament next summer. It's no wonder why I can't wait to wake up each morning!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 9:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

As the month of August winds down, here are some random notes on the summer and on what's ahead:

1. Recently the Press Republican upgraded the blog system, but it has created a problem for me to approve the comments from my computer at home. As you may or may not know, one of the beauties of being asked to write a blog for this website, is that I can do this anytime day or night from my own home. With the upgrade, I can still write the blog, but I am not able to approve comments, nor add my notes to anyone's comment. For now, someone at the Press Republican office will approve the comments.

2. Today I ran into my first ear of corn that didn't fit into the big kettle I use to cook corn. It was from Shield's on the Beekmantown Road. I think Sam picked that one out for me on purpose! Try as I might at lunchtime, I couldn't even jam it in the kettle. I had to saw off the end of the cob, where those little teeny kernels are, just to get a snug fit. And, oh, it tasted great! With the help of fellow bloggers here, I've been able to find some great corn this summer.

3. Today a small part of North Prospect Street is closed off for street repairs. So, that means traffic is being detoured into and out of Flagler and into and out of the entrance to East Gate, near Crescent. I took the route and I have to give credit to the Kasprzak campaign crew for a heads-up move. I don't know if those signs were already there, or if someone rushed out this morning and put them along the detour, but I must have passed by 15 "Kasprzak for Mayor" signs along the way.

4. Speaking of the mayoral race, with the September 12th primary just weeks away, I'd give each candidate one little piece of advice. Don Kasprzak should make it a point that people know how to pronounce his name. There are thousands of new voters since he served on the Common Council back in the Seventies. Fair-weather voters, who don't really take an effort to learn more about the candidates, will more often vote for a name familiar to them. When they see that scramble of letters in his last name, it may look more like a word jumble. But if they've heard it enough times, KAZ - PURR - ZAK, it will sound and look more familiar to them.

5. City councilor Mike Drew, whose name has been in the news for the past several years, has the friendly name going for him, but he has to erase the feeling that he will just be a mayor for the south end of the city. His home and business are in the south end, and he has represented the residents well. However, he has to be sure that the residents of the other wards don't see him as just a "Fox Hiller," not that there's anything wrong with that!

6. My blog about the catherization lab alerted the North Country about my first battle with some heart problems. I received many phone calls and e-mails and blog comments wishing me well. I have to thank a vigilant Dr. David Anderson for noticing a funny whoosing sound in my heart several months ago. Echocardiograms have shown that my mitral valve is not working properly. I feel great! And, with the positive results from Wednesday's catherization by Dr. Palma, major surgery is on the backburner for now. Dr. Anderson and Dr. Palma will be keeping a close eye while Fox is on the Run!

7. As summer winds down my thoughts turn to wood. I love a fireplace with logs burning in the late fall and winter. But, oh, that job of moving the wood supply into the garage for winter and stacking the new cords in the backyard. I think I'll go easy on that job. I think I might have to call my friend-of-a-friend, the young dude who fixed my rain gutters. Sounds more like a job for a 22-year-old than this old heart patient. But I'll keep busy, kicking pebbles around, shooing the squirrels away and bringing out some liquid refreshments. No doubt, I'll keep right up with that young kid every step of the way.

8. Your comments are invited!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 1:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Yesterday I spent the day surrounded by wonderful women giving me all the tender loving care I needed. Sounds like a guy's dream day come true. But not so fast. I was at the catherization lab at CVPH, getting my arterties checked to see if I need heart by-pass surgery.

It was an interesting day, to say the least. Never having experienced this procedure I was in for quite a time. From the moment I arrived at CVPH at 7:30am, and was greeted by volunteer Gail Calongne, a longtime friend, I was given the red carpet treatment.

In less than a minute I was told to report to the cath lab, where I met Patty, the first of several ladies who would treat me like a king during the day. Her son Jordan had been in my eighth grade English class about 15 years ago.

She gave me a ringside seat in room #6, right across from the nurses' station, where I could watch the day's activities unfold. It took about two hours of preparation and waiting in the "holding area" before I would be ready for the actual procedure. Patty answered many questions that I had and I also met Dr. Palma, my new heart doctor. I also met Tammy, whose father is the North Country's #1 Yankees Hater, and Laurel, the newest of the cath lab nurses.

With an IV needle in my left hand and blood pressure strap on my right arm I was almost ready to go. Catherization involves inserting a small tube from the groin area, through the arteries and into the heart to check for any blockages which may be restricting blood flow. That means a certain area had to be shaved. Rumor has it women have been doing this for years, but not Foxy Gagnon. Those moments may have the scariest of my day.

At 10am I was rolled to the cath lab for the procedure. The IV was making me drowsy but I was still mentally writing my blog as they wheeled me into Cath Lab #2, the newest one. Still part of the red carpet treatment for Foxy Gagnon, I guess.

In the cath lab I met Claude, a good friend of Muggsy Favro, the Mayor of Cadyville. Claude wore the best scrub hat I've ever seen at CVPH. I'm going to be looking for one of those in the days ahead. Apparantly on eBay you can find all kinds of scrub hats.

Dr. Palma entered and proceeded to numb the groin area with injections. And I thought the shaving experience was tough! To calm me down Tammy souped up the IV solution and the results were similar to Foxy Gagnon after enjoying about five Bloody Marys.

I don't remember much of the procedure. I guess I don't remember any of the procedure. I do recall waking up back in the holding area around 11am. At that point the major diagnosis and consensus was that I was a good snorer, one of the best the nurses have had in weeks.

Following a catherization, the important part is to remain on your back without moving your right leg for five hours. Lucky for me I was able to snore away a few of those hours. As the Bloody Marys wore off around 1pm, I was feeling hungry. Laurel called room service and within minutes I was served a turkey sandwich, a bag of chips, my favorite cold soda and a package of Lorna Doone cookies. I hadn't had a Lorna Doone since 1961.

From my ringside room I was able to observe a day in the life of a cath lab nurse. I was impressed with how smoothly the day went, not just for me, but for the four or five other patients as well. Each of us had our own problems to be diagnosed, our own unique preparations, medications and personalities. But the nurses dealt with all this with understanding, care and knowledge. Patty, Tammy, Laurel and the others are true professionals and they made my cath lab day as comfortable and reassuring as it could be. When I left the cath lab around 5:15pm, nearly ten hours after my arrival, I was ready to go home, no doubt, but I left with a good feeling that I'd been well cared for.

I still have a few days to take it easy, to get babied by my Mom, my brother Goose and sister Darlene. And I hope my hair grows back in the right places. Other than that the results of the day were great. Dr. Palma found no blockages and things are looking good for the immediate future. It's just the snoring they are worried about!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 4:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Some people get several chances to be a parent. As for me, my one shot started back in 1978 when my son Erik was born on this day. It was 28 years ago. Time has certainly gone by quickly. Why does it have to do that?

I can recall his moment of birth at precisely 3am. I can remember seeing his Mom Gail hold him for the first time. I can remember putting a Dodgers cap on his little head. I can remember tossing him a tennis ball and teaching him how to hit line drives. All as if it were just a few years ago.

In 2004 Erik got married and left home on the same day. He and his wife Sarah moved to Cohoes, near Albany, and they recently purchased their first home.

Today is my son's birthday. I am proud of him. His Mom and I both taught him about life, about values, about the importance of education, about the importance of hard work and honesty.

Nothing will ever take away our thousands of hours of playing games that we invented when he was young. Games like "Hall of Fame Catches," "Glove Ball," "100 Catches in Grandma's Pool," and "Nerf Basketball." Even if I did put a hole in his bedroom wall trying to block one of his slam nerf-dunks.

Nothing will ever take away our hundreds of hours of watching Mets' games and enjoying a bucket of wings.

For many years now, I've called Erik "Big E" and I'm "FoxDad." He's maybe 5'7" but to me he is "Big E." To me he stands seven feet tall. He is every bit of the man I hoped he would be the moment I cradled him in my arms for the first time 28 years ago today.

Happy Birthday, Big E. I love you!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 7:58 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

It's the weekend, so it's raining in the North Country. That's been pretty much the theme of Saturday night and Sundays this summer. To an old retired guy like me it doesn't really matter that much. It can rain on Tuesday, or it can rain on Thursday, or it can rain on Sunday. The days don't really matter. You take the 5 good days, and begrudgingly accept the 2 rainy days.

But it wasn't so long ago I was a working man, looking forward to those two special days, Saturday and Sunday. Those were the two days to run errands, work around the yard and talk in front of the house with the neighbors. It's always much better to do those activities in a tee-shirt instead of a raincoat. And holding a can of liquid refreshment instead of an umbrella.

Even though it doesn't matter a hoot to me if it rains on Saturday and Sunday, it matters a lot to those involved in special summer activities. Mike Perrotte and company over at Airborne Speedway will remember the Summer of '06 as the mini-season. Try as they might, they have been forced to cancel five or six of their Saturday night race cards, including last night. That not only hurts the track owners in the wallet, but also the drivers who lose out on an opportunity to win some cash back for their big expenses all week prepping their cars.

And, on a smaller scale, I feel bad for my friend Dennis Burnell, doing all he can do to operate Red Line Race Park on Route 9 North, behind the old North Country Shopping Center. Dennis and his staff provide kart racing for drivers young and old from the Plattsburgh area, as well as from Malone, Vermont, and even from Cornwall Island, Ontario. He's been forced to cancel his races five or six times this summer, forcing the drivers, mostly youngsters, to a day inside watching NASCAR or playing video games.

Not to mention all the family picnics and class reunions rained on this summer on Saturday and Sunday. Nothing worse than water in the potato salad and soggy hot dog buns. I know some determined bar-b-quers forge on, pretending it isn't even raining, just to savor the taste of a steak off the grill. But not me. I'll just cook mine on Monday, when the sun is shining brightly, and pretend it's Sunday.

Who's in charge of this weather anyway? Who can we blame for so many rainy weekends this summer? Tom Messner? Gib Brown? I wonder if the Old Timer has seen so many rainy Saturdays and Sundays? I think we should all stand united on this one! And just refuse to accept anything other than sunny weather on the weekends for the rest of August and throughout September.

Next Saturday if it rains, let's all meet in front of the Crete Center at noon and drive south till we hit the first town with sunshine and let's throw ourselves one whale of a sunny party right there on Main Street. That's what I'm gonna do and I hope you'll join me!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 9:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

During our last big rain storm I noticed that the rain gutters on my house were not working properly. In certain places water was overflowing over the top. I'm sharp enough to realize that there must be a blockage someplace. I also realized that I had not cleaned the rain gutters in at least three years.

The last two times I ventured to my rooftop for the task of cleaning the rain gutters my life nearly ended. On the first occasion my son Erik assisted me. We put the ladder on the cement patio and Erik helped me get the hose onto the roof. Erik was sweeping and pushing debris and I followed with the hose, spraying those expensive seamless gutters clean. Following a job well done, I tossed the hose onto the patio and took my first step on the ladder to exit my lofty vantage point.

However, I had not realized that the cement patio floor was now soaking wet and with the first step down, the ladder slid away and i grabbed for the roof and rain gutter. There I was dangling off the side of my house, gripping tightly to a somewhat-sturdy rain gutter. Erik quickly grabbed one of my arms, and in a Herculean effort, lifted his portly father back onto the roof.

The following year, despite the near-death rooftop experience, I tried again. This time by myself. I decided to forget about using the hose and just do the sweeping. So, broom in hand, I laddered my way to the top of my house. Nice view up there, I noticed. You can see over to Belmont Drive and all the way up Flagler.

I wouldn't say I'm afraid of heights, but standing on the back of a pickup truck has been known to make me woozy. I approached the front rain gutters and eyeballed the dead leaves and twigs that needed to be swept away. Of course, the closer I was to the rain gutter, the sharper the angle downward. Suddenly, before I could even disrupt one dead leaf, I began getting dizzy. My head twirled and my right foot involuntarily took a step toward the end of the roof. In an instant I saw my new 2003 Pontiac Grand Am waiting to break my fall.

I pushed my body backwards, falling on my back, hitting my head on a few black shingles. With the blue sky in my vision, I realized that there must be an easier way to clean the rain gutters. Putting my life in jeopardy in back-to-back summers was not the route to take. Are clean rain gutters really that important? Who invented rain gutters anyway? Can't they make self-cleaning ones?

Following a three-year hiatus today was the day to clean the rain gutters. But, as for this old man, I would step no higher than my back porch. I employed the assistance of a friend-of-a-friend, a 22-year-old dude who lifted my forty-foot ladder like it was yesterday's lunch. Up he went, a smile on his face, ready to conquer those pesky rain gutters.

And what a job he did. He plucked out dead leaves and mud and I helped by carrying the water hose from the front to the back of the house. I think I was a good helper, keeping up with the young dude, matching each step on the ground with each step he took on that treacherous rooftop.

But, alas, a problem! One of the downspouts was blocked. This was what was causing the overflow I had noticed a few weeks ago. My friend-of-a-friend put the nozzle of the hose right into the downspout, but that only forced water to ooze out some of the seams of the downspout. He knew he would have to dismantle the downspout from the house and clear out that gunk that had accumulated over the past three years.

Have you ever seen what is going on inside those rain gutters and downspouts? I was amazed when gobs of black gunk started exploding out of the dismantled downspout. What is this stuff? It had turned to soggy mulch and there were even some worms residing inside this mess. It looked like something you'd see in a science-fiction movie. Pounds and pounds of this stuff were ejected onto my back lawn. It'll make good mulch for your lawn, my young friend assured me.

It could also scare off burglars! Don't go near Foxy's house. He has this black gunk growing on his lawn. Twenty pounds of it! Run for your lives!

This young dude even put those confusing downspouts back in the right order and reattached it to my house. It's helpful for an old guy like me to have a young dude who can help out from time-to-time. But I kept right up with him, keeping busy holding pieces of rain gutters and those all-important screws.

It's a great feeling, getting those rain gutters all cleaned out after all this time. And I didn't even risk falling off a roof. That young guy will probably be back in a few weeks with some other important job to help out with. But, don't worry, I'll keep up with him every step of the way.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 5:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I'm just back from my first visit to the Sterling (NY) Renaissance Festival. On Saturday and Sunday I strolled the grounds with my son Erik, his wife Sarah and his mother Gail. From 10am until 6pm we immersed ourselves in medieval culture, rubbing elbows with lords and ladies, enjoying presentations from jugglers to jousts, and eating some of the finest food I've had in a long time.

Located somewhere in the woods between Oswego and Syracuse, the long-running festival provides an entertaining weekend for young and old. I didn't necessary fit in wearing my "Dude" tee-shirt on Saturday, but I did wear my hair in a ponytail like some men of medieval times. It really takes two full days to see everything, and even at that we never had a chance to get to the Mad Dog Tavern for the bawdy wench auction. Not that I was that interested.

Throughout the grounds men and women, employees and guests, dressed in medieval garb and most women were more than happy to show a couple of their womanly qualities. Not that I was that interested. But my jaw did drop when I spotted the fair maiden selling pretzels. I could not resist her charming smile and salted treats. I was one of her best customers during our two-day visit.

The festival offers over 40 different acts, including my favorite, Johnny Fox (no relation). Johnny's thirty-minute solo performance involved slight-of-hand, comedy and swordswallowing. He was amazing!

Several of the acts involved audience participation and we enjoyed the DaVinci Brothers Comedy Opera and the mud-slinging Mudbeggars Show. Since I was educated at a Catholic high school I especially enjoyed the Hey Nunnie Nunnie Show, which presented inspirational songs in comedy format, with a few pokes at Catholics who take themselves too seriously.

In between acts there is plenty of time to enjoy the food, ah, the food. Erik opted for the pork pocket topped with cole slaw, a tasty messy treat, on our day one, while I started out conservatively with clam strips, fries and slaw. But 'ere long we turned up the taste treats, enjoying steak-on-a-stake, dill pickles right from the barrel, and those massive turkey legs, bigger than my own kid's leg.

And to wash down the vittles, how about a mug of fine ale, served up by a long-haired fair maiden with a friendly smile for an ale-lover? Especially if he's wearing a "Dude" tee shirt and has a ponytail.

For those with a sweet tooth, such as Gail and Sarah, the cream puffs are irresistable. Nearly the size of a Volkwagen tire, they are covered with chocolate and stuffed with vanilla pudding. Must be eaten with a pitchfork or held in two hands.

It took me 58 years to find the Sterling Renaissance Festival, but I'll be back next year. I'm craving a pretzel already. Did I tell you about the "pretzel girl"? Not that I'm that interested!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 3:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

It's official! The political season is upon us. On Wednesday when I headed out in my car with my errand list in hand I saw my first political signs. Like the robins' return in springtime, it's inevitable that our streets and roads become cluttered with colorful candidate signs.

The mayoral race in the city of Plattsburgh should be a good one. And the first signs address that. The first sign I saw was "Don Kasprzak for Mayor -- Performance Not Promises." I'm sure a lot of time was spent coming up just the right phrase, catchy but not corny, brief but informative.

A few feet away I encountered the second sign -- "I Like Mike Drew for Mayor." Mike has used the catchy and familiar "I Like Mike" slogan in the past. It works. People remember it. The clever phrasing of his sign allows it to be read as one sentence, as noted already, or as two: "I Like Mike. Drew for Mayor."

Both of these candidates represent the Republican Party and they are off and running for the spot as successor to Mayor Stewart, the man who replaced Mayor Stewart. You know what I mean.

Current Mayor Jack Stewart has already promised there'll be no "Bring Jack Back" signs in our neighborhoods. He's a lame duck mayor and he's glad of it. He's a Democrat and that party has its own candidate, Kevin Duniho. No Duniho signs have appeared yet. He may be thinking that it's all in the timing.

It's far too early to choose a winner among Kasprzak, Drew and Duniho. What I like is that each candidate has his own unique talents to offer to the city. I also like that three excellent men are willing to serve in a position that can sometimes be a thankless position. Have they spoken with the previous mayors about late-night phone calls, taxpayers' uprisings and out-challenging the mayor of Burlington?

We are just in the first inning of a political game that may go into extra innings. Good luck and thanks to all the candidates.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 10:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

At the risk of getting too "corny," I just have to follow up on my blog of August 2nd titled "Lend Me an Ear." My main complaint was that this year's corn crop, and the crop for the past several years, renders ears too small. I long for the days when I could make a full meal out of three ears instead of having to bite into six.

Seems as though I may have been too hasty in my judgment. A fews days after writing that blog I happened to be on the Beekmantown Road and stopped at Shield's Vegetables/Dyer's Farms for the first time this year. Mary Dyer, who along with husband Sam, now owns the business, mentioned that someone had told her about my blog and my search for bigger ears of corn. Both Sam and Mary gave me excellent explanations about the corn crop while I ordered six ears for my evening meal.

Hours later, I realized that I'd been conned by this corn-pickin' family, including son Ryan and daughter Emily, who had smiled politely all through their parents' story to me about corn on the cob. Husking my first ear out of the Shields' bag I noticed a heaviness to it. And then there it was! Stripped of its husk I was staring at an ear of corn like I hadn't since the turn of the century. Big juicy kernels on a long ear. Not a little teeny cob like I've been purchasing.

Obviously, I've been lookin' for corn in all the wrong places for the past several years. It will be nice to see the Dyer family regularly now that they are back on my shopping list. Needless to say, it didn't take six ears of this corn to fill me up. I had three left over for the next day.

Meanwhile, I received a nice e-mail from Mary, a regular blog reader and a fellow Our Lady of Victory Academy graduate. She tells me I can find bigger ears of corn at Rulf's in Peru. I'll give them a try tomorrow. Maybe I'll even find some nice crisp apples while I'm there and some of those homemade doughnuts. And Mary puts in a good word for those home-grown tomatoes as well.

I guess the big ears of corn are out there -- you just have to know the right people!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 6:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I was surprised and pleased when the Press-Republican asked me to write a blog for their website. Our first meeting was in November 2005 and about a month later the first blog appeared. But it was not my first gig with our local newspaper.

Twenty years ago I was hired as a part-time sports reporter and worked the dinner hour while the real sports reporters took a break. Mostly I answered the phone and wrote brief recaps of high school baseball and softball games. During that time I was asked by sports editor Bob Goetz to write a feature article titled "Where Are They Now?" I would select former high school athletes, mostly ones who had left the area, track them down for a phone interview and then write an article about their memories of those glory days.

From 1985-1992 I wrote over one hundred "Where Are They Now?" articles and learned a lot about the North Country's sports history before my high school playing days. The first subject for my series of articles was Chuck Kinney, who graduated from Peru High School in 1955. He once scored 98 points in one high school basketball game.

Earlier in the 1953-1954 hoop season Our Lady of Victory Academy's Lefty Tessier had scored 64 points, setting a local high school mark and gaining state recognition. Legend has it that Peru coach Tony Papero didn't want a John Flynn-coached player to hold such a record, so on a historic night late in the '54 season, Papero decided that Kinney would be the "designated shooter" for his Indians.

Even Kinney admitted to me in a 1985 interview, "It was a little bit set up. I was the only one allowed to shoot in the fourth quarter." In that quarter alone the six-foot-five-inch center scored 44 points. Peru trounced Champlain High School that night 120-80. You can bet it's a record that has never been topped.

Kinney averaged 31 points in his senior year, including 48 against Mooers and 47 against Ellenburg. He went on to play college basketball at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute (RPI). The last I knew Kinney was living in Southport, North Carolina.

The legend of Chuck Kinney will remain part of local high school basketball lore forever. If the Peru Central School District ever created an Athletic Hall of Fame he'd be a shoo-in as a charter member.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 7:15 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I can tell you where I'll be on Saturday afternoon and maybe you'll take a nice drive and visit me. While you're at it, you will have the opportunity to listen to some great down-home traditional country music. This weekend, starting tonight, it's Whitey & Flo's 20th Annual Campout, a legendary North Country event.

For the twentieth year Whitey Keese and his wife Flo have invited anyone who loves music to campout on their property on the Cold Brook Road in Riverview, just past Redford on Route 3. Friday night the campers and cars will start rolling in. In a huge wide-open field country music lovers can set up home for the weekend, without charge!

On Saturday at noon the music officially begins, although you can bet that Friday night some musicians will take to the stage and play music for the crowd. I will be at the music festival from noon till late afternoon, talking with musicians, music fans and recording the event. Musicians from Albany, Vermont and anyplace else will be there to entertain and have fun. Whitey Keese and the Cold Brook Ramblers kick off the music at noon, and the music will continue non-stop till late Saturday night.

You can just visit or you can campout. Vendors are on site selling tee shirts, music cassettes and cds, and you can buy food and drink as well. Or, bring your own and have a family picnic!

My first visit to Whitey & Flo's Campout was in 1999, at the invitation of Theresa Garrow of Ellenburg Center. I had a great time! And I even ran into some longtime friends that had been attending the campout for years. Odds are you will see someone you know at Whitey & Flo's Campout, but, if not, you will quickly make some new friends.

Whitey and Flo Keese are North Country music legends. Whitey has written many songs about living in the Adirondack Mountains. They will be joined by many friends and even some family members. I interviewed Tilou Bonhomme, the famous fiddler, and "Longhorn" Garrow at Whitey & Flo's Campout. Both have passed away, but I interviewed them and those clips will be included in this year's souvenir video of the 20th Whitey & Flo's Campout.

From Plattsburgh just follow Route 3 past Redford into Riverview (don't blink your eyes, or you'll miss the sign) and turn right onto the Cold Brook Road. From there a few miles down the road you'll see the campers. I hope to see some friends at Whitey & Flo's Campout 2006.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 11:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

If you read the blog "The North Country's Four Seasons," you know that right now we are in corn-on-the-cob season. We always get those teaser ears of corn, the ones "shipped fresh from Florida," but taste like they've been frozen four times. Hopefully, the best ears of corn this season are yet to come.

I've bought my corn at two local vegetable stands and found the same thing with both. The ears of corn are small, smaller than last year and the year before that (2004). With more husk than cob many of the ears are about half the size of when I was a kid. Back in those days, Mom usually bought her fresh corn at Shield's on the Beekmantown Road. I see they are still there, an amazing long-running family business.

The ears of corn in those days filled your plate, twice the size of today's ears. Big and round it took all I could do to lift one when I was little. They didn't even fit into those plastic corn-on-the-cob holders my mom bought at an Avon party. They extended beyond the ends, like Shaq trying to fit into a twin bed.

Is there some reason that the ears are so small? Is this just the early run and the big ears will be available next week. I'm talking about ears this year of four inches long compared to nine inches in the old days. I'm not exaggerating. So next time instead of my three ears at one sitting, I'm doubling up to six. I don't mean to sound like a glutton, but I know my math and three ears times two equals six ears.

And once you bring those ears of fresh corn home it's cooking time. How long do you cook your fresh corn? I'm a seven-minute guy, but I'd be interested in what other corn connoisseurs are doing. Any other tricks of cooking fresh corn so that the flavor and tenderness will be kept or enhanced?

NBC Dateline could produce an entire show on the ways to eat your fresh corn. Eating corn off the cob effectively is actually an important skill for some of us. You need to decide if you are eating by the row or rows, or if you're going to work your way around the corn. I'm a row man, prefering three rows at a time, however, the small kernels this year may turn me into a four-row guy.

After applying the mandatory butter and salt and, often, black pepper, one must be sure the temperature of the corn has decreased a bit from when it occupied its previous site in boiling water. That first bite better not be too aggresive or you will feel shooting pains from your front teeth up into your gums and into your brain. Judging the depths of the follow-up bites comes with experience. A rookie corn-on-the-cob eater may bite too much into the cob and end up chewing on non-digestible corn parts. The experienced eater gets just to the bottom of the kernel and lifts it out of its socket with a smooth bite.

I remember that when I lost my front teeth my Mom would saw the kernels off the cob and I'd get the same taste without the hassle of holding the cob on each end. I tried that the other night just for kicks, but ended up with some kernels bouncing onto the floor, and others flying onto my kitchen wall. Frankly, not worth the trouble. I'll stick with holding the cobs with those little plastic corn pickers in the shape of an ear of corn.

If we keep heading in the same direction maybe someday those fresh ears of corn will be even smaller than the corn pickers!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 5:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)