On The Sly

The temperatures during the month of January have covered a wide range. We had some record-breaking warm days and then some below-zero days. One constant, though, has been the comments from readers of "On the Sly." It amazes me how just one suggestion or idea can lead to so many varied comments. Thanks to the regulars at "On the Sly" and please continue to tell your friends about us.

Before we head into February, there are some leftovers to take care of. The "Atomic Fireballs" blog generated 25 comments at this point, and I have visited A Different Blend on Clinton Street a few times to buy penny candy. I've reloaded my pockets with fireballs and enjoyed licorice candies and caramels, while telling Joe, the owner, about some of the candies mentioned by readers.

And on Saturday night I came across one of my all-time favorites when it comes to candy. It is from my childhood time in Canada, when we would visit my Mom's parents, Grandpa and Grandma Jock. They owned a little mom-and-pop grocery store and they sometimes sold a molasses candy called Tire Ste. Catherine.

It's not pronounced "tire" like on your car. It's pronounced "tear" like when you cry. It's a little piece of taffy-like candy with molasses flavor and it comes wrapped in a paper, the same as salt-water taffy. On the wrapper is a cartoon of an old lady. The sticky candy has a great flavor, and it can be dangerous for pulling fillings out of your teeth, so you have to eat a Tire Ste. Catherine with caution.

I found some in a candy shop in Montreal on Saturday night. I gave a yell that frightened the owner. Then she laughed at my happiness at finding this treat! The next day I called Josee Beauharnois, my former colleague who taught French at Stafford Middle School. She told me that "tire" comes from "tirer," the French word meaning "to pull." Therefore, it's a pulled candy. According to legend, the old lady on the wrapper has to do with the olden days when, if you weren't married by the age of 25, you would be considered an old maid. The Catholic Church named St. Catherine as the patron saint of unmarried women, because she chose execution rather than marry the Roman Emperor Maxentius.

Saint Catherine's Day is celebrated November 25 and that is the time each year when this candy can be found in Canada. In fact, for a few years, Josee's father would buy me a big bag of the candy in St. Jean, Quebec, Josee's hometown.

On another topic, my mention of baseball cards stirred up memories of those Topps' pieces of cardboard being used on our bicycle spokes as kids to make a motorcycle sound. We all did it, hopefully using cards of players like Bob Oldis and Bill Renna instead of Mickey Mantle and Willie Mays.

I was never a Yankees fan, but I was glad to get a Yankee in a pack of Topps, because that meant I would have something to trade to my buddy Bobby Gertsch. He was the Yankees fan, and I was the Dodgers fan. I can still remember the day in 1958 that he dangled a 1954 Topps Jackie Robinson card in front of me for hours in his bedroom while we worked on a trade for Yankees cards. We finally consummated the deal for several Yankees baseball cards. I still have that card today!

The blog "My Pal Sal" resulted in an e-mail from the man himself, Sal Righi, who wanted to recognize some of the guys he worked with. Sal wrote, "How can I thank George Dukette, Bob Clukey, George Roberts, Robin Roushia and Tony Ciccone for their dedication to the department?" Sal was grateful for all the kind words that he read from readers of "On the Sly."

Let's bring on February. We are ready. Baseball spring training camps will be opening up. Hey, the Opening Day of the baseball season is just 63 days away! Go, Dodgers!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 8:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

Last Saturday musical history took place in Plattsburgh and people are still talking about it. It was night combining great musical talent, hundreds of music lovers, people helping people, and the return of some music legends.

I'm talking about the "Help Feed Your Neighbor" Music Night at Olive Ridley's on Court Street. Local musicians volunteered their time to entertain, and customers donated food items for North Country food pantries, such as JCEO, the Saranac Methodist Church Food Shelf and the Interfaith Food Shelf.

Anyone who attended had to be happy with the results and, judging from the overflow crowd, especially of people in my age bracket, and their smiling faces and rocking bodies, a good time was had by all.

I was lucky enough to be invited to serve as emcee for the event, and my job was easy. I arrived at 5pm and the place was abuzz with musicians carrying equipment and stringing cables from one side of the stage to the other. Little did I realize the outstanding musicians I would get to meet.

The opening act around 6pm was Craig Hurwitz, who didn't want me to introduce him as "Doc." Doctor by day and entertainer by night, Craig Hurwitz' acoustic guitar and rocking voice got the crowd into the event early. Then Chicago-raised vocalist Natalie Ward and guitarist Rod Riddle continued to raise the temperature as the crowd size increased.

Soloist Josh Cramoy, a native of Lake Placid, played without his usual band members, and the crowd loved his contemporary sound. The Josh Cramoy Band has been touring colleges in the eastern United States. Josh also may have had one of the most beautiful assistants of the night, although she listened quietly from off-stage.

As I tried to mingle through the crowd of a few hundred, I kept getting the same question. Everyone was asking what time a particular group was scheduled to go on stage. I tried not to show my hand, instead listing the lineup in order of appearance, but leaving out the times.

Around 9pm the Unrelated Uncles took to the stage. I wasn't familiar with the name of the band, but I sure knew the faces. Pete Mack, Michael DelSignore, Greg Fiske, who had a very busy night, and Bob Newton took to the stage and raised the intensity up a notch. Olive Ridley's new back room started shaking as dancers moved to the dance floor in front of the stage. Billed as "the best-looking band of the night," they got top ratings as musicians also.

The popular Natalie Ward Band was next and, the temperature kept getting higher. Wow, did they rock the place, which by now was jam-packed. Natalie's strong vocals were backed by the aforementioned Greg Fiske on sax, Bob Newton on drums and Ron Riddle on guitar. Throw in Dale Derusha on bass guitar and Rich Davies on trombone and you've got the makings for a musical extravaganza.

It should be mentioned that Dale Derusha spent about 18 hours at Olive Ridley's working on the sound system and trouble-shooting problems. He arrived early Saturday morning and left early Sunday morning. That's dedication!

By now it was around 11:30pm and the place was buzzing. The crowd was loud and crammed elbow-to-elbow, ready for the next performers. It was time for the return of the legendary Blind Pig Blues Band. It's been seven years since they have performed together, and, in the minds of North Country music fans, this was a momentous occasion.

With the K-Man, Ken Kesterman, Mike Maddix, Pat Maddix and, of course, George Wurster on stage the audience started shouting, howling, jumping, reading for the first beat, the first note, the first harmonica riff. And, let me tell you, the guys didn't let the crowd down! It was like riding a bicycle! It was as if they had never stopped playing. They didn't miss a beat. And the crowd was sending their love onto the stage. The panties started flying up on stage before the first song was over.

The band also had special guests Greg Fiske, yes, again on stage playing the sax, and Lowell Wurster, George's son, on the bongo drums. Or are they conga drums? Or can you say either name for those things? Lowell was obviously thrilled to be backing up his dad's vocals, and stated into his microphone more than once, "That's my dad!"

The band played for over an hour and the crowd could have listened for hours more. But there was one more act. At 1am the local band Lucid went into action. The group, comprised of Kevin Sabourin, Jamie Armstrong, Nick Sauvie, Ryan Trumbell, Andy Deller and, back for more, Lowell Wurster, kept the younger crowd rocking, while some of us oldsters had to call it a night, already several hours past our usual bedtimes. The early morning hours belong to the young, I felt.

It was a musical happening like nothing else ever experienced in Plattsburgh. Great musical entertainment all night and all for a great cause. George Wurster spoke to the crowd about people in our country being hungry and needing food. "This should not be happening in the United States," he said.

It seems to me that George, Natalie Ward and Patricia Fox were the driving forces behind the "Help Feed Your Neighbor" concert. Their friends quickly jumped on board. Robin Caudell wrote a great article in the January 18th edition of the Press-Republican, which did much to promote the event.

The musicians had to be exhausted by the time Sunday rolled around, and probably some of the dancers were exhaused as well. I saw dance moves last Saturday night that I never knew were possible. One girl in particular danced up a storm, not stopping until the last song. She had moves so amazing, that had I tried them, I'd have ended up in traction by Sunday afternoon!

I say, let's do it again. Maybe Matt Spiegel, Olive's Ridley's proprietor, can get this rolling at the Naked Turtle next summer, and then back to Olive Ridley's next winter. Maybe even have a cover charge so that the musicians can be paid at least a trifle for their talents.

Regardless, those of us who were there, experienced some North Country music history, and we all owe the dedicated musicians a standing ovation! Thanks to all of those who did "Help Feed Your Neighbor."

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 11:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (13)

Recently in one of his blog comments, Skip Zatonski, now wintering in Myrtle Beach, mentioned the Downtown Coaches Club. I grinned when I read that, because I knew it was the topic of my next blog.

I recall only a few things about the club, which I believe started in the 1960s, so we may have to rely on the memories of some of the bloggers older than I to fill out the history. The Downtown Coaches Club would bring prominent athletes to Plattsburgh and then sell tickets for a dinner and speech. Somewhere in my collection is a picture of me with Bobby Thomson, who broke the hearts of Brooklyn Dodgers fans in 1951 with his home run to send the much-despised New York Giants to the World Series instead of the Bums.

I think the dinner was at the Elks Club and, judging from the photo, it was around 1967. I remember that Plattsburgh State coach Ernie Rangazas played a key role in the club, and, just guessing, Joe Bornstein may have been the master of ceremonies.

During my high school years I also remember Alex Webster, New York Giants' running back, appearing at Plattsburgh High School, the old PHS auditorium, now the site of Stafford Middle School. And, I think Jim Brown came to Plattsburgh during that time period.

I'm not sure how long the club was in existance, but perhaps it was less than ten years. I sure would like to know more about the Downtown Coaches Club.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 7:41 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

With Mark Sudol leaving his job as the WPTZ Channel 5 sports anchor, it will take a while for his replacement, Matt Hobbs, to develop a sense of identity with his audience. I wish Matt the best and, who knows, if he stays long enough he might join the ranks among some of the North Country's favorites who have held the position.

Certainly Mark Sudol is high on my list of favorite Channel 5 sports guys. His style was unassuming, straight-forward, and his somewhat shy smile was always there at the right times. He created the "I Challenge Mark" series, where the likeable broadcaster tried everything from cheerleading to car racing. He picked up a lot of fans during his time in the North Country, which began in 1996. Years ago my buddy Ray Lalonde told me about Mark's little wave at the end of his broadcast, and it was his signature sign-off to viewers. We will miss Mark Sudol.

Another of my favorites at Channel 5 sports is Chris Kelly. He, too, was a friendly guy and he stayed in the North Country for several years. He loved sports and, at times, fancied himself a potential professional athlete, playing in benefit softball and basketball games around the area. I have a videotape of a benefit basketball game that Kelly played in many years ago. He fired up three-point shots from all angles and I think he tossed one up from the locker room. He finally sank one and celebrated like it was an NBA game-winner! I don't know where Chris is now, but I'd sure like to know.

Another Channel 5 sports guy I remember is Tim Singer, a SUNY-Plattsburgh grad who spent eight years at Channel 5. Tim made an impression on his viewers with his coverage of sports events that took place while he was in the North Country, things like the Empire State Games and the Lake Champlain International Fishing Regatta. Apparantly he also made an impression on some of the head honchos in bigger venues, because now Singer is a freelance sports commentator for FOX Sports, ESPN, NBC and other networks. He's shaped a great career for himself and is well-remembered by North Country sports fans.

Do you remember Blaine Applegate? He was a popular Channel 5 sports guy in the 1990s. He came to the North Country in 1990 and stayed about six years. He was an athlete-turned-broadcaster, make no mistake about it. While reporting the news at WPTZ, Applegate donned the uniform of the fledgling Plattsburgh North Stars semi-pro football team in the Empire Football League. Appropriately, he wore number "5" and he was a hard-nosed running back, a straight-up-the-middle guy who would get the Stars a first down on a third-and-three. He was known for running over would-be tacklers and, as a result, Goose, my broadcaster partner, gave him the nickname Blaine "The Train" Applegate.

Applegate left the area in '96 for the job of sports director at WXXA, a FOX affiliate in Albany. However, I've been unable to find where Applegate is today.

Perhaps my all-time favorite Channel 5 sports guy is Rick Whitlow. Does that name ring a bell? He was at Channel 5 from 1980-1985. Rick came to the North Country with shining credentials, having been an All-American basketball player at Illinois State. He averaged 21 points his junior year and 22 in his senior year and once scored 51 in a game against Southern Illinois. He was drafted by the Houston Rockets.

Rick never touted his accomplishments on the hardwood, instead joining the Channel 5 staff and doing his job in business-like fashion. He was a classy guy, soft-spoken and friendly. Back in the 1980s at Stafford Middle School I organized a "Sports Day" for the students and invited guests from the North Country to talk with the students and sign autographs. Rick was a popular guest and talked with students about how sports can help shape your character and have a lasting effect on you.

Whitlow left the area, but he remembers well his time in North Country. "I love Plattsburgh," he e-mailed me last week. "I have nothing but wonderful memories about the North Country. Still perhaps the most beautiful place I have ever been.

"One of my many highlights at WPTZ was when Pete Rose came to the station to do a live interview with me. I still have the pictures and the tape."

Whitlow also mentioned regretfully that he had heard of the death last year of Bird Berdan, who was his colleague at Channel 5. Even though he had relocated far from New York, Whitlow kept in touch with Berdan through the years.

Whitlow is now sports director at WJTV-TV in Jackson, Mississippi. He has two children: son Eric, who was born at Champlain Valley Physicians Hospital in Plattsburgh, and daughter Candace.

So there you have my five favorite sports guys at WPTZ-Channel 5: Sudol, Kelly, Singer, Applegate and Whitlow. It makes sense to have five at Channel 5, but maybe I've forgotten someone! Is there someone else you would add to the list?

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 7:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (20)

Recently I was talking with a guy named John Mahan and he was popping a fireball in his mouth. You know, those little round hot candies that we ate when we were kids. I hadn't had a fireball since 1970, so I asked where he bought them, and he pointed me in the right direction.

I remember they used to cost a penny, but I felt, in this day and age, they were a bargain at five cents apiece. I bought ten of them. My mouth was watering, anxious to determine if these were as hot as I remember them. Answer: Yes! These babies are hot! Hotter than ever, I would say.

There are some interesting things about fireballs if you read the wrapper and search the internet. Officially called "Atomic Fireballs," they were created in 1954 by Nello Ferrara of Chicago. The company that makes them is Ferrara Pan Company. One fireball weighs .32 ounces or nine grams, and a fireball is not quite one-inch in diameter.

I'll tell you this. If you eat a fireball, you get your money's worth. It takes about twenty minutes to consume one fireball. I've timed it. And don't think you can shorten the time by just biting into it and crunching it away. There's no way a human being can bite into a fireball. I think it may be the hardest object on earth today. If you even try to bite into a fireball, I can promise you a visit to Dr. Heins or Dr. O'Connor. They've worked their way through popcorn damage and tootsie roll damage, but it would take hours of work to repair fireball damage.

I'm glad that I've rediscovered fireballs, and I am considering ordering a box of 400 online at an internet candy store. But there are other candies from my childhood that I loved and haven't had in years. How about B-B Bats? I remember chocolate ones, banana ones and strawberry ones. And I was a sucker for those big red wax lips. Wear them awhile and look like a fool and then chew the wax.

Without a doubt, if I had extra pennies in my pocket, I would buy Topps baseball cards. One penny, one pack, one card, one stick of gum. When I was about nine years old, I found a dollar and bought 100 packs of one-cent Topps. 100 baseball cards and 100 sticks of gum -- a little kid's dream!

I guess nowadays penny candy has become nickel candy or dime candy, but I'm still buying it no matter what the price! According to the company's website, 15 million fireballs are consumed each week. If you want to increase that total, next time you see me, ask me for a fireball. I carry a bunch in my left front pocket. But be warned: they are hot and, unless you're going to zing the remnants at a passing vehicle, you're stuck with a 20-minute treat.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 11:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (25)

Sometimes I'm one of those guys who can sit there for hours, remote control in one hand, bowl of popcorn in the other, and turn those channels, checking to see what I'm missing on the next channel. I have one of those cable packages that tells me the title of the show at the bottom of the screen, so that even if it's commercial time, I know what show I'm missing.

One of my all-time favorite shows is called "This Week in Baseball." It's not on this time of year, of course, because the Opening Day of the 2007 baseball season is still 76 days away. Then I'll be able to watch "This Week in Baseball," which started in 1977 with Mel Allen narrating the highlights of the past week. The format has changed through the years, but I still enjoy the show, now hosted by Buzz Brainard.

And, as spinoffs, we now have "This Week in the NFL" to keep pro football fans happy. And "This Week in the NHL" for all those hockey afficianados. And don't forget "This Week in the NBA" for those who like to watch players who run up and down the court and don't know how to play defense. Now matter what the sport, we have a chance to get caught up on the past week's events.

However, I saw something the other day that bothered me. Amidst all the "this week" shows I saw one called "This Week at War." It made me stop. The title just seemed so flippant, so matter-of-fact. I'm used to those shows being fun, maybe with a rock song at the end showing the big plays of the week.

I guess one thing I don't want to see is "This Week at War." To me, that show should have been a pretty short-run series. I read the papers daily about what is happening overseas and how too many Americans have paid the price. I really don't want a TV show to recap the week's events. Hopefully, that show will end soon.

I mean, I never saw a show called "This Week at Peace." It could show people watching the sun come up and kids sledding at Fox Hill and people at church singing and praying, and it could show kids kicking a soccer ball and playing the trumpet and some guy with a ponytail enjoying a bloody mary. You know, peaceful things like that.

And with the popularity of reality television shows, I could create "This Week at Foxy's." I could set up a camera in my living room and people could sit back and watch me answer the telephone and operate my remote and bring in wood and get the fireplace roaring. Or they could even see who visits me and discover what we talk about in the friendly confines of my living room.

At the end of the show I could play a rock song, you know a good one like from Chubby Checker or Little Richard, and show the highlights of my week. Like when my cat Lily knocked over my glass of soda or a when a certain someone accidentally kicked me in the shin when she was giving me a hug goodbye. You know, excitng moments like that.

It could start a whole series of spinoffs, like "This Week at the Carver's," or "This Week at Bullet's," or what would probably be the most exciting show, "This Week at the Old Timer's." I think that might qualify as a Pay Per View show!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 8:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (15)

There's a guy whose name has popped up intermittently throughout the first year and a month of this On the Sly blog. Sal Righi. Sal was assistant to the Recreation Director in the City of Plattsburgh and a school teacher as many of us were growing up. He was always well-liked by the kids of Plattsburgh.

Instead of commenting directly to the blog, Sal often sends me an e-mail, congratulating me on my latest entry and adding some of his own memories about the subject. I've been saving those and will share some of his comments in a moment.

Sal started working in the Recreation Department in 1955, after John Flynn helped him get the job. He worked under Pete Blumette for many years, and helped create some of the sports programs that we enjoyed, such as the winter basketball programs at Monty Street School and Bailey Avenue School.

When we were kids we all knew Sal and he always had time for friendly conversation with us about sports. When I started teaching in the Plattsburgh City School District in 1970, one of the first to offer me support, along with Dick "Mr. T" Trombly, was Sal Righi, who by then was a veteran teacher. I knew I could go to Sal with questions and he became my friend, and it's a friendship that has lasted nearly forty years.

Sal is a walking history book when it comes to the city of Plattsburgh. Here are a few of his thoughts on recent blogs:

About the recreational basketball program: "... people like the Seymour boys, Bob Rougeau and Joe Tellstone to help me run the program."

About Little League baseball: "... the start of Little League with two fences at OLVA separated by a snow fence. One of my first helpers maintaining the fields was Bobby Brown. Bobby was the older brother of MLD's Jack Brown."

About the Policeman's Field Day each summer: "It started in 1947 with Peter Blumette getting the council to go along with the idea. The police and firemen played softball against the kids who were at the outing. Naturally the officers never won a single game much to the delight of the kids. The officers ran the bases the wrong way, dropped pop flies, booted grounders ....The umpires, like Eddie Johnson, had a strike zone that went from the officers' ankles to the top of their heads. Soda was donated by Coca-Cola, popsicles from Guys' Ice Cream/Fro-Joy's, pies and hot dog rolls from Bouyea's Baking, mustard, relish and catsup from Plattsburgh Grocery and hot dogs by Armour's and later O'Neils. No one could beat Crusher O'Connell when it came to pie eating. He was like a vacuum cleaner when he started on a pie. He would go through the hot dog line three or four times. When he was asked if he'd already been through, he'd say no, even though he had mustard around his mouth."

On places around Plattsburgh: "I spent many hours on the north end with my cousin and Tony Breyette. He lived on Lafayette Street and we spent many hours at the Cozy Cafe on the corner of Elm and Montcalm. One of my favorite haunts was located across from Steltzer's first garage (later run by Leroy Tyndall) on South Catherine Street. I wonder how many of your older bloggers played the pinball machine and had ice cream sodas there... It was called Dicksons, which was located below the sidewalk level."

Swimming the Imperial Pond: "Many times the good sisters (from OLVA) found us at the pond when we skipped school and turned us in to Mr. (John) Flynn. Needless to say, we paid for our little adventure."

Sal retired from the city and from teaching several years ago. He knows that parenting never stops, even though his two own two kids no longer live at home. Sal and his wife Denise are parents of two children, Dino and Ann. They know that being loving parents never ends.

And being a good friend never ends. My pal Sal is quite a guy. With his artistic skills, which many people don't even know about, he probably could have made millions. It was a tradition for Sal to draw a caricature of a retiring teacher from Stafford Middle School and many of those still hang on den walls around Plattsburgh. And, when I was yearbook advisor, Sal's artwork often was on the first page of the SMS Yearbook. He did that as a special favor to me.

My sports den has a few momentos from Sal, including woodcarvings of a "Hole in One" golfball and a walking stick with the head of a cigar-smoking cowboy at the top.

I hope Sal doesn't mind that I've exposed him to the public like this in a blog. But I'm sure many remember him from our younger days in Plattsburgh. I just wanted to let everyone know that he's doing well and enjoying his life in retirement. I'm glad that Sal is one of my best friends!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 7:44 AM | Permalink | Comments (11)

In Part One of "Places I Miss," I recalled the days of playing sports in my backyard on Johnson Avenue, the baseball games in Elizabeth Street schoolyard, and the halls of Our Lady of Victory Academy, the high school from which I graduated.

Today in Part Two, I stray further from home. Let me say initially, that as the first born in the Gagnon family, Ray and Viola kept tight reins on my travels around the city. It seems like I was almost fifteen years old before I could ride my bicycle downtown by myself, although in reality that's probably not the case. Nevertheless, it was a huge right of freedom when I was allowed to cross the South Catherine Street Bridge by myself.

And on the other side of the bridge were three of my favorite teen stops. The first was Robarge's Bakery on South Catherine Street. It was located right on the slight curve near where Bazzano's is today. If I had a nickel in my pocket, there was no way I could pass by Robarge's. The bakery was actually the front room of their home, and then behind the curtain was the kitchen where everyday they made the best glazed doughnuts I've ever tasted. Yes, even better than Krispy Kremes!

When you entered the bakery a small display case exhibited the array of doughnuts, eclairs and other pastries. But my nickel was always spent on a glazed doughnut. Mr. and Mrs. Robarge were friendly people, and they made me feel welcome. They probably never even knew my name, but they treated me like an important customer, even though all I was spending was a nickel, which I traded for the biggest glazed doughnut ever made. A Robarge's glazed doughnut was three times larger than our modern-day Krispy Kreme. It was puffy and light and smothered with that sugary crispy glaze. I'd love to go back in time and buy one of those babies now! Although, there is no way I'd settle for just one!

And next door to Robarge's was the Altamont Dairy Bar. The PHS kids had Mike's Pizza Corner or the Creamy B, but we Fox Hillers had the Altamont. It seems like the same ladies always worked there. I think Sylvia Wengert was one of them. After football or basketball games, it was a big deal for several of us to gather at the Altamont, order cherry cokes and hamburgers. And then top it off with a hot fudge sundae.

My favorite item at the Altamont was the Pig's Dinner. I first encountered this when I was hit with mononucleosis in June of 1963, the end of my freshman year. I was in the hospital for three days and each night my parents' visit would include the arrival of a Pig's Dinner from the Altamont. A Pig's Dinner was like a supersized banana split, designed so that only the heartiest of appetites could finish it. You would win a Pig's Dinner pin if you were able to eat all of it at one sitting.

When I was discharged from CVPH, the Pig's Dinners didn't stop. My teacher and coach, Mr. John Flynn, would visit each evening and bring me my favorite massive treat. He would check on my condition, keep me informed about what I was missing at school, and watch me gobble this ice cream goodie.

The final place I miss was the farthest from home and that's the city beach. I mean the city beach like the old days -- because in those days to a sixteen-year-old Fox the city beach meant one thing -- Canadian girls. Those were the days when the beach parking lot was packed by 9am. Those were the days when you and your buddies spent more time walking the boardwalk than actually swimming in Lake Champlain. Those were the days when you would walk the shore from the sand dunes to the end of the state park for the sole purpose of spotting Canadian girls.

Being the shy guy that I was, I seldom really met many girls, but I sure did a lot of looking! And imagining. And, once in awhile, I'd find a pretty friendly girl who would let me buy her an ice cream or ask for my phone number and address. Since I'm a packrat somewhere there must be a small box in my home with love letters postmarked Canada. I wouldn't mind being sixteen again for a day and giving that stroll of the city beach one more try!

Oh, today we all have our favorite places and hangouts, but for some reason they just don't have the same lustre or excitement of those places way back when. Man, what a day that would be -- one more Robarge's glazed doughnut, one more Pig's Dinner and one more Canadian girl! Was there ever anything better than that?

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 6:33 AM | Permalink | Comments (54)

I guess life is all about changes. The people who come and go in our lives. Or, as Bob Dylan wrote, "The times they are a-changin'." And we learn to move on, take what we can from the past and enjoy the present.

But, just for old times' sake, it would be great to go back one day to 1966 or earlier and revisit some of the favorite places of my youth. Places where I spent some time and, most importantly, places where I enjoyed a lot of laughs.

So, today, the six places I miss the most from my high school days and earlier. And I'd start with my own backyard. Our backyard on Johnson Avenue was long and narrow, resembling a miniature football field. Many are the hours that my little brother Goose and I played one-on-one football there, especially in the fall and winter. We even played football with snow up to our waists, trudging along, pretending we were Frank Gifford or Alex Webster or big Rosie Grier.

I still take credit for helping develop Goose's football skills because he was relentless playing football, even when I was twelve and he was just nine. He would run me over and score touchdowns near the blue spruce tree. Later, wearing the green and white of St. John's Academy, he would run over opposing linebackers the same way.

In the springtime our backyard became a baseball diamond and my brother and I spent hour upon hour practicing my pitching and his catching. Our Dad made a wooden home plate and wooden backstop to try to keep the ball from going into Alex and Mabel Turbide's yard on Monty Street.

But in the mid-1980s, down came the two blue spruce trees, away went the hedges and our playing field became a thing of the past. It was replaced by an in-ground swimming pool, state of the art, and a new way for the kids and grandkids to enjoy the backyard on Johnson Avenue.

Another place I miss is the Elizabeth Street schoolyard. Located right across the street from our house it was a young boy's dream playground. An earlier blog detailed how much the entire neighborhood enjoyed this place. The brick school made the perfect home run target and most of us ten-year-olds couldn't come close to reaching it.

But the older boys could. Guys like Ronnie Zak and Harold Beauharnois would clobber the ball off the school and trot around the bases laughing, pretending they were Mickey Mantle or Roger Maris. As the years passed the schoolyard was used less and less and then we saw construction going on. Next thing we knew townhouses were being built where we played our childhood games.

The third place I miss are the halls of Our Lady of Victory Academy. I attended OLVA from fifth grade until graduation in 1966. It was a special time. With 28 in our graduation class we were a close-knit group. If we had English class we all had English class. If third period was science class, then we would all be in science class. Guys like Rod Dame, John DesRocher, Doug Durocher, Gary Leavine, Joe Giroux, Eddie Rostak, Alexander Bedard, David Lefebvre, Gary Hebert and Donald Wells became my best friends.

Mr. John Flynn taught business classes and was our coach. Even though he wasn't the principal you didn't want to get sent to Mr. Flynn's office. Our principal was Sister Mary Genevieve. My favorite high school teacher was Sister Mary Bernadette, who demonstrated a rare sense of humor, something you just didn't see from the good sisters in those days. Then there was Sister Celestine, the science teacher, and good old Sister Anthony of Jesus, who monitored study hall.

Until recently, the last time I had been in that building was 1967. I'd love to stroll the halls of OLVA one more time. And, in a way, I recently did. The building was sold, recently renovated into apartments and one of the tenants is my friend Jim Carr. He gave me a tour recently. Kenny Mousseau, the owner, has retained some of the original features of my old high school. The glass-encased bulletin board outside the office is still there. The original doors to the original gymnasium are still standing. What used to be the sisters' kitchen area downstairs is being converted into a recreation room.

But I didn't hear any Gregorian chants from the small chapel. Once a month priests from throughout the diocese would gather for a day of meditation. I used to try to get a pass from study hall and sit on the stairs outside the chapel and just listen to the singing. I didn't hear Sister Genevieve's rosary beads rattle. Strolling the halls with Jim Carr was nice, but it was different. I'd love to go back to 1966, just for one day.

Thus, the first three places I'd love to visit from my youth: my backyard, Elizabeth Street schoolyard and the halls of OLVA. None of the three exists any longer. But the memories from those places remain clear in 2007.

(On Wednesday morning: Places I Miss - Part Two)

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 6:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (19)

With January temperatures in the sixties, can the baseball season be that far away? I saw two boys playing pitch-and-catch yesterday, a ritual usually reserved for March, if we got lucky.

One of my gripes about major league baseball is that, like so many other aspects of life, there are just too many choices. By that, I mean to say, there are too many major league baseball teams. Looks like the city of Plattsburgh is having cutbacks in personnel in one department or another, and I think big league baseball should do the same.

Take a look at last season's stats and you'll see far too many games where teams scored ten or more runs. Some games resembled scores that you find in the men's slo-pitch softball league in West Plattsburgh. Give me those days way back when -- when there were just eight teams in each league. When there were quality big league pitchers, not guys who were fresh out of college and into the big leagues. Not guys who could hang on forever because they were lefthanded relievers.

I say let's start with 2007. Whatever teams finish last in each division are eliminated and their players go into a pool for dispersal to the other existing teams. Do this for a few years and whittle the big leagues down from the inflated 30 teams to a more reasonable 20 teams full of real big leaguers.

There are too many major league baseball teams! And, while I'm at it, there are too many pro athletes with inflated egos. I've touched on this before, but where are the humble soft-spoken athletes? I guess they just don't get any tv time. It seems like wearing a pro jersey, no matter what the sport, gives one license to be arrogant and mouthy. I'm waiting for the day when those sports reporters have the courage to turn and all walk away when some player starts spouting out about how unfair life is.

But I can make a long list of things we have too much of and they don't all have to do with sports! We have too many squirrels in the city of Plattsburgh. I'm happy our city has beautiful old oak trees and elm trees all around. Makes for too many leaves in the fall, but that can be solved with a rake and some garbage bags. You can't turn the corner onto Saratoga Court without seeing two or three squirrels scampering around. Are those critters doing anything to make my life better on Saratoga Court? Is there some way we can cut down the squirrel population?

And there are too many choices of toothpaste! I'm a Colgate guy and the lady I had lunch with yesterday is a Crest girl. But could we eliminate the four flavors, the whiteners and brighteners, the crystals and the stripes, the tartar control and the fresh breathalizers? I just want plain old toothpaste!

Do you think maybe we have too many television channels available? I know most people might say you can never have enough choices in this area. But I'm a throwback to the days when you had Channel 3, Channel 5, and, with a good antenna, you might pull in Channel 6 or Channel 12. Or, if you were lucky, Channel 7, with those French spicy movies late at night. I remember when my television set had a dial for UHF and one for VHF. We were all excited when we started getting Channels 22 and 57. I don't really need two hundred channels, with seven different HBOs and five different Cinemax choices. Just give me a good old tv show like the Honeymooners.

And, as a parting shot, we have too many television commercials about medicine. According to the latest ads our doctors don't know much and we can make ourselves feel better by trying some over-the-tv-set drugs. No matter what the names of the medicine, it's the side effects that bother me. "May cause dizziness or fainting when you stand up, may cause nausea or severe cramps, may cause loss of eyesight or hearing." Oh, great! I got rid of the nagging ache in my neck but now I can't see!

I guess it's just the world we live in now that we've reached the 2000s. Way back in 1948 when I was born life was much more simple. Nowadays it just seems there's too much of too many things.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 6:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (12)

It's January. I woke up this morning, looked out my back door and saw the brown lawn still tinted with green from summer. The indoor/outdoor thermometer by the back door reads "30 degrees."

Hey, I know it's only the beginning of January and we still have to face February and March, but what ever happened to those good old cold days of winter? The way we grew up in the North Country, we were used to temperatures even 50 degrees lower than it is today. We would head out to warm up the car or truck with temperatures dancing well below zero.

My Dad taught me all kinds of ways to try to beat the freezing winter temperatures, such as never let my gas tank level get below a quarter of a tank overnight. You didn't want to end up with the dreaded frozen gas line. When was the last time anyone had to call AAA because of a frozen gas line?

Dad taught me to pour in a can of dry gas whenever I filled up my tank in the wintertime. Another trick at beating Mother Nature in the North Country winter. Does anyone even bother to buy dry gas anymore? I don't see those cans anyplace. Or am I just not noticing?

When I lived out in the woods near Beartown I used to plug in my car overnight. I'm not really sure what that technically did, but it worked. No need for that when the temperature is 30-above at seven in the morning.

Is it really global warning? Is that why our North Country winters have changed so much? I'm not disappointed, mind you. I think it's great. No need for me to trek to Myrtle Beach if our days are going to be like this. Our local meteorologist is predicting temperatures in the fifties this weekend. Hey, it's January!

Last winter I think I used the snowblower on my driveway one time. One time all winter! Last winter the Kevin Adler Memorial Ski Races at Beartown, one of my few favorite winter events, had to be cancelled due to lack of winter! And even though my neighbors were out snowblowing and shoveling a few days ago after our few inches of snow, I just sneered at the snow in my driveway and then let the rain a few days later wash it away.

Used to be if snow hit your driveway in December it would stay there till March if you didn't plow it away. I don't want to say too much, but I'm starting to look Old Man Winter right in the eye and chuckle. He's just a fragment of what he used to be. He doesn't scare me anymore.

Frozen gas lines? Temperatures reaching 20-below? Hah! Not gonna happen. I'll bet that next week I'll be putting out my Tuesday trash cans in my summer shorts! We might think back fondly of those days of skating rinks and sliding at Fox Hill when we were kids, but we may never see those days again.

Plattsburgh, with mild temperatures in the forties in early January, might eventually become Myrtle Beach North. See you at the beach!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 7:24 AM | Permalink | Comments (16)