On The Sly

This morning I was out of the house early running errands and yawning. Students were on their way to Stafford Middle School, walking along Oak Street and Margaret Street and South Catherine Street. A lot of them sure looked cool, wearing their baseball caps backwards and sporting sunglasses. Their baggy jeans flopped along with each step they took.

I think we knew how to be cool better back when I was a teenager. Kids today would laugh at our styles and some of the other things we did to be cool. And make no mistake about it -- we were cool!

I remember how happy I was when I opened a present on my thirteenth birthday and found a pair of white bucks staring back at me. By white bucks I don't mean a couple of white deer. I mean the coolest shoes going, the Pat Boone-style white bucks! My white bucks weren't everyday shoes. They were for special occasions like the YMCA Saturday night dances or the dances at the Our Lady of Victory church hall. Or, for wearing to Phil Dubuque's birthday party over on Main Mill Street.

I don't know whatever happened to my white bucks. Maybe they eventually got scuffed and dirty enough that I had to throw them out. Or maybe I simply outgrew them. I'd sure like to have them now. No doubt I'd have them on display as a relic of my past, along with my Little League baseball glove and my OLVA Foxes' high school basketball warmup jersey.

Another thing that made guys cool in my day were sideburns. Growing sideburns showed a little bit of the rebel inside you. Those guys who got to grow those Elvis Presley-like sideburns looked pretty cool in my book. I never got to do that, mostly because Coaches John, Shorty and Billy Flynn didn't think sideburns were cool. Some of the cool older guys like Kenny Leavine and Danny Lucas used to stretch their sideburns out a bit, but we younger guys stood no chance. We pretty much had to have crewcuts like the one worn by Coach John Flynn or Coach Shorty Flynn. At least that's what my Dad thought!

But I found another way to be cool, and that was to buy what we called a black dickie. You could buy this little black neck cloth that you wore under a white shirt. It made it look like you actually had a full shirt under, but you really didn't. It was just the neck part that was covered up. But the girls liked guys with the black dickie under a clean sharp-looking white dress shirt. Or so I thought. Sometimes thinking you are cool is just as good as actually being cool.

Once I got my own car at the age of eighteen I really had a chance to be cool. My black Ford Comet was no big super-powered machine, but with the right accoutrements I knew I had a chance to be one of the coolest guys in Plattsburgh. So I equipped my car with an eight-track stereo system with speakers installed in the back window. And, as if that weren't enough, I bought one of those white stuffed cats with red bulbs for eyes. The stuffed animal was hooked up to my back lights. When I signaled to make a left turn one of the cat's eyes starting blinking. When I put my brakes on, both of the cat's eyes lit up! I didn't drive a Corvette like my cousin Steve Bedard, but I had the coolest Ford Comet in the North Country.

I think you will have to agree that we sure knew how to be cool in our day. Maybe today the kids would laugh at our white bucks, sideburns, black dickies and cats that lit up in our car back window. But you'll never change my mind. There's no way those kids with the baggy jeans and backward baseball caps are cooler than we were!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 7:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (14)

We are not even finished with the first month of the baseball season, but plenty has happened already. Here are some of my early-season observations with an invitation for readers to add their own to the blog.

THE PLAYER I AM MOST HAPPY FOR: Alex Rodriguez of the New York Yankees. As most people know I am the farthest thing from a Yankee fan, and I have never been an A-Rod fan, no matter what uniform he was wearing. But last season the New York high-priced player took much of the blame for the Yankees' failures. Through it all he maintained his class, answered the repetitive questions politely and put on the uniform each day without complaint, even when he was relegated to the eighth spot in the batting order during post-season play. April 2007 has been quite a month for Rodriguez. Place no blame at his locker for the Yankees' losing record this month. Even though I never cheer for him, I have to admit that he deserves a good month. He's saying "I told you so" to the New York media and booing fans without even opening his mouth.

THE PLAYER I FEEL SADDEST ABOUT: Eric Gagne of the Texas Rangers by way of the Los Angeles Dodgers. From August 2002 through 2004 he was the best relief pitcher in baseball, converting 84 consecutive save opportunities. No one has ever done better; no one has ever been so flawless. In his career he has saved 161 of 167 chances, a 96% conversion rate. By comparison future Hall of Famer Mariano Rivera of the Yankees has a conversion rate of 86%. Gagne set the save record without a great deal of fanfare, seemingly not interested in being a superstar. Sadly, over the last few years, Gagne has struggled with back and arm injuries. When the Dodgers finally gave up on him, the Rangers took a chance. But he's back on the disabled list and may never pitch again. What a shame!

THE PLAYER I DON'T CARE ABOUT: Barry Bonds of the San Francisco Giants. The opposite of A-Rod, the opposite of Eric Gagne, Bonds feels that baseball and the world owe him everything. I'd pick other Giants' players like Ray Durham and Dave Roberts as roles models for my kid.

THE GROUP I FEEL MOST SORRY FOR: Baseball fans who have been subscribers to the Extra Innings baseball package that Charter Communications cable company offered the last few years. That was my summer ticket to almost ten baseball games a day, including those late night games of my beloved Dodgers. This year we were shutout, thanks to major league baseball and DirectTV. There are rumors we might still eventually be offered the package, but things at this point look as bleak as the Yankees' pitching staff.

THE REASON THERE IS HOPE FOR US ALL: Check out the statistics of relief pitchers Bob Wickman of the Atlanta Braves and Todd Jones of the Detroit Tigers. They are racking up saves like they are 20-year-old fireballers. However, Wickman is 38 with 6 saves and he has given up no earned runs in 10 games! Jones is 39 and already has 8 saves! And check out their other stats -- their waistlines. Wickman is listed at 240 pounds but that was a few pizzas ago. The Tigers claim Jones weighs 230 pounds, but they can't look you in the eye when they say that. Heck, if baseball needs relief pitchers that bad maybe I should get my arm loose. During my senior year of high school I developed a nasty knuckle-curve ball. And my friend John Ireland was quite a lefty reliever for the New York State champion American Legion baseball team back in 1969. He'd look great in a big league uniform.

MOST FRUSTRATED MANAGER IN BASEBALL: Joe Torre of the New York Yankees. The Yankees, baseball's highest salaried club, are in last place and he doesn't even have one pitcher who can last five innings. And each night he has to face a bevy of reporters with the same questions. And he gives the same answer: "It's just one of those things and we just didn't get it done." I wonder why no one asks pitching coach Ron Guidry any questions. Isn't it his job to work with and develop an effective pitching staff? And why are the Yankees' wasting Joe Kerrigan as the bullpen coach? His big job is to answer the phone out in the bullpen and watch relievers warm up. Before he donned a Yankees uniform in 2006 Kerrigan was considered baseball's hardest working and most effective pitching coach. I just don't get it.

All this and we haven't even finished the first month of the season. Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 9:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

When I finished fourth grade at Monty Street School, my parents asked me if I wanted to change schools and attend Our Lady of Victory Academy. It was pretty much a foregone conclusion that eventually I would go to OLVA, so fifth grade sounded like as good a time as any.

I'd already spent my years studying Cathecism with some of the good sisters of that Catholic school and so, with scapular around my neck and missal in my hand, I ventured off to Sr. Mary Constance's fifth grade class at OLVA, where I made many new friends.

The Catholic influence in my life, both while growing up with Ray and Vi Gagnon and being educated by the Sisters of Charity of St. Louis, was profound. In sixth grade I became an altar boy, learning the Latin responses to the priest during the Mass. When I finished the training necessary to be an altar boy, the church didn't have a cassock that would fit me. I was pretty small in those days.

So my Mom the seamstress made the black-and-white outfit for me. I served some outstanding priests, who also influenced me a great deal. Foremost in my memory is Monsignor George Brisson, who to me was a saint. I have never, even to this day, known someone as reverend as he. I am certain that he has a big chair in heaven, surrounded by a flock of angels.

Father Joseph Aubin was in charge of the altar boys, and he was an important role model in my youth as well. As were Father Thomas Votraw and Father Joseph Conti. Nobody gave a better sermon than Father Conti. He always liked to use a quote from literature or from someone famous and apply it to our lives as Christians.

These men served as great role models for me. Around about tenth grade I started thinking that I might have the calling to be a priest. I loved the Mass, I read the Bible instead of comic books and I often prayed in the evening instead of watching television. I said so many prayers during my teenage years that even if I never pray again I have enough plenary indulgences built up to last me my lifetime!

Believe it or not, in my bedroom I didn't have posters of Annette Funicello or Brenda Lee or Elvis or Duke Snider. In my bedroom I had an altar and I would say practice Masses, often coercing my little brother and sister to take part and receive white Necco Wafers for communion. My parents dreamed how proud they would be that their first-born son would be a priest.

You can picture it now. Father Fox! Don't you think I would have made a great priest? Giving sermons, forgiving sins and serving as advisor to the Catholic Youth Organization. Perhaps it was meant to be!

I even applied to Wadhams Hall Seminary during my senior year of high school. At the same time I applied to Plattsburgh State for the teacher education program. Through a fateful series of events when September rolled around I was enrolled at Plattsburgh State and the rest is part of my history.

But I know how close I came to attending Wadhams Hall instead. I cannot underestimate the important roles that the priests and nuns at OLVA played in shaping the kind of person I am today. In the few times I have been honored in public I have always thanked my first coach, my Dad, and my first teacher, my Mom, for the influence they've had on my life.

But certainly in second place would be the priests and nuns from Our Lady of Victory. Even though today I may not attend my old church regularly I will never forget the time spent there. And I'll never take for granted the influence the priests and sisters have had on my life. I think it kind of has a nice ring to it: Father Fox!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 11:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

A few years back I read the term "religious mutt," referring to someone who didn't really have a place to congregate, to worship, but someone who felt religious nevertheless. Sort of a religious person without a home. And I felt that term fit me well.

Oh, at one time, most who knew me then would agree, I was a purebred Roman Catholic. I attended Mass faithfully, prayed daily and followed the teachings and rules of the Church without fail. But something happened around the time of the famous Second Vatican Council, which met from 1962-1965. As a result Pope John XXIII decreed several changes would take place within the Catholic Church.

I guess I was an early dissident of most of the changes that were implimented. The most obvious innovation was that English would replace Latin as the language during Mass. This change brought the religious services "closer to the people," but, to me, at the same time it took away the reverence of the holy services.

Anyway, as I sat in St. Peter's Church this week for over 90 minutes, I had the opportunity to think about the Church that I miss so much from my youth. There have been so many changes.

There was a time that you had to fast three hours before receiving Holy Communion. Suddenly that was changed and the Church said, "Never mind. We were just kidding you all those years. You really don't have to fast at all." Someone can be fresh from McDonald's and receive Holy Communion with Egg McMuffin on their breath.

And didn't we used to have to avoid eating meat on Friday? That rule has gone by the boards. My goodness, when I was seven years old I thought I was going to hell because I ate a bologna sandwich for lunch at Terry Prentice's house on a Friday. I couldn't wait to go to confession on Saturday and explain the whole thing to Monsignor Brisson.

Confessions sure were different in those days, too. You would pray for awhile and think about your sins, like what bad words you might have thought of when you struck out in the Little League baseball game. Then you would wait in line for awhile with a bunch of other sinners. Finally you would go into the confessional and wait for the priest to slide that little window open.

The priest would usually have his hand on his head, leaning in and making sure he wasn't peeking at who was in the booth ready to spill his guts about being a bad boy this week. "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned!" I am sure I uttered those words thousands of times as a kid.

Nowadays confessions can be face-to-face. No dark booth, no sliding window, no kneeling down to cleanse our souls, no secret sinners. I wonder if they still give penance or does a simple handshake wipe away those sins?

Throughout the year and sometimes during Mass we would say the rosary. In the Gagnon family saying the rosary was an evening ritual during Lent. Every night at exactly seven o'clock the three children would meet our Mom and Dad in the living room. The lights would be out and candles would be lit. We all kneeled and said the rosary aloud. There were five of us and the rosary consists of five decades, so it worked perfectly.

Our friends would sometimes gather on the sidewalk in front of our house, wondering what strange ritual the Gagnon family was conducting. As soon as the final Amen was said, we were out the door to see our friends. Goose was always the first one out the front door.

Do you know what a scapular is? I wore one faithfully when I was young. I doubt anyone wears a scapular today. It was two pieces of cloth, joined by strings passing over the shoulders, and you would wear it under your shirt as a form of devotion to God and His Church.

While I was wearing my scapular, my Dad wore a medal. It was a big silver thing that hung around his neck on a chain. During the years I guess the younger generation gave up the religious medal in exchange for gold chains and bling.

Are there any Catholic churches in the North Country that still have an altar rail? You used to kneel at the altar rail to receive Holy Communion. As the priest placed the host on each communicant's tongue the altar boy would hold that little gold plate under the person's mouth in case the priest missed.

One time Monsignor Brisson dropped a host and I didn't catch it on the plate. The service immediately came to a halt as the good monsignor said prayers before picking up the religious host, which represents the Body of Christ. I stood there like I'd made an error at first base, my face turning redder with each second.

Nowadays regular people hand out Holy Communication. I think you have to go through courses and maybe a retreat before you are qualified, but good old Mr. Jones from next door can come fresh from McDonald's with Egg McMuffin on his breath and hand out Holy Communion. I find this shocking!

I guess I've never been ready for all these changes. I feel like sometimes I'm too old-fashioned for my own good. I mean, I have modern ideas when it comes to other things, even if I was about the last faculty member at Stafford Middle School to sit in front of a computer.

I know I miss the good ol' Catholic Church that I grew up in. Give me a Latin Mass and some incense and holy water and I'd be happy. I wonder if I'll be a religious mutt forever.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 5:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (11)

Even though the last few days have looked more like January, we are nearing the end of April. Time once again to load up the blog with bits and pieces from previous comments. The tragic events on the campus of Virginia Tech have all of us wondering, as we did in 1999 when students died at Columbine High School, how we can avoid these mass murders.

News analysts have been quick to question the actions of the campus police, the college president and other administrators. These are events that cannot be anticipated, can never be stopped and no matter how someone reacts the "Monday morning quarterbacks" will feel they have all the answers. Today radio talk show host Rush Limbaugh even blamed the Virginia Tech shootings on Don Imus!

On another note, despite the cold weather, snow and rain, the major league baseball season is underway. The tribute to Jackie Robinson on Sunday was wonderful, especially the festivities at Dodger Stadium, where many baseball greats gathered to honor the Brooklyn Dodger Hall of Famer. If anyone watched the interview that Jon Miller and Joe Morgan conducted with Robinson's widow, Rachel, you could really get a feel for what a great person she is.

It was great to see so many players wearing Jackie Robinson's number 42 jersey. Those jerseys will be auctioned off to support the Jackie Robinson Foundation, which Rachel Robinson oversees. As you may know, the number 42 has been officially retired by major league baseball. No player will ever wear that number again.

Only one major league player wears #42 at this time, and that's the New York Yankees' ace reliever Mariano Rivera. He had already been wearing the number when the major league decree was issued, so he will be the last player to ever wear that number.

I found it ironic that on Sunday Rivera blew the save by giving up a game-ending three-run home run to little-known Marco Scutaro. I just couldn't help believe that Jackie Robinson was up there in heaven helping the Yankees lose the game, helping that ball stay oh-so-fair and sending the Yankees' #42 back to the clubhouse with his head hanging. A little Dodger revenge on Jackie Robinson day!

Two people have asked for help in a little North Country research. William J. Brown attended Tupper Lake High School and graduated in 1935. His son, William A. Brown, is trying to locate school memorabilia from that time period. The school has told him that these items are in storage, but no one seems to know where. Can anyone help?

And North Country legend Gordie Little is wondering if anyone has ever heard of an area musician named Ken Picard. He apparantly played with some local groups in the 1960s. I don't recall the name. Can anyone help?

On a sad note, my friend Sue Swoboda passed away, after a valiant fight against cancer. She worked with me for many years at Stafford Middle School, where she was the principal's secretary. She is a wonderful friend. Every day I would invade her space, making the morning and afternoon announcements from next to her desk. On many occasions she had to take over my announcing duties and she did so with a smile and a threat that "you owe me for this, Foxy!"

In fact, during the last year or two that I worked at Stafford she kept a little list on her desk of how many times she had done my job. Each mark represented a "refreshment" that I owed her. I think when I retired the list was pretty long. I hope some day we meet in heaven so I can repay her for her kindness.

Sue and her husband Al, a retired city firefighter, raised a great family: daughters Keri and Kyra and son Kern, who is a regular member of the On the Sly blogoteer brigade. All your friends will miss you, Sue. You are someone special.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 5:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Today major league baseball is honoring Jackie Robinson. April 15th marks the 60th anniversary of Robinson breaking the color barrier as the first black player in major league baseball.

When Branch Rickey, the Brooklyn Dodgers' general manager, signed Robinson to a contract there was much controversy. In 1947 when Robinson ran out on a major league baseball field there was even more controversy.

I was born a year after Robinson's ground-breaking season. But it didn't take my Grandpa Gagnon, who we called "Poppa," very long to make sure I knew who Jackie Robinson was. Poppa was a die-hard Brooklyn Dodgers fan and it was only natural that I follow in his footsteps, despite prompting from my Dad the Yankees fan.

As a kid, I collected Jackie Robinson baseball cards. I still recall negotiating for days with Bobby Gertsch, who had a 1954 Topps Jackie Robinson baseball card in his collection. Bobby collected Yankees cards, and I had a few he wanted. It took days, but we finally consumated a trade: I got the '54 Robinson in exchange for a '55 Bowman Mickey Mantle and a few 1956 Topps players like Bob Grim and Gil McDougald.

My Johnson Avenue buddies thought I'd been ripped off by the kid from Elizabeth Street. And maybe I had. But I still have that 1954 Topps Jackie Robinson baseball card on display in my home. Along with hundreds of other Robinson collectibles.

He was one of my favorite players when I was a kid, and, the more I read about him as I got older, the more of a hero he became. He was brave, determined, and somehow he remained in control at all times. His career ended in 1956, when I was just eight years old. It ended in a rather sad way.

He was 37 years old, and, after ten seasons with Brooklyn, he was traded to the crosstown enemy, the New York Giants. Rather than wear a uniform other than a Dodgers' uniform, Robinson retired. I'm embarrassed that the Dodgers' would trade him. To me it remains a blemish on the Brooklyn Dodgers' legacy.

Jackie Robinson died in 1972 and several years later I was asked to represent a national organization, the Brooklyn Dodgers Fans Hall of Fame, for a presentation. I was invited to travel to Brooklyn and meet Mrs. Jackie Robinson, Rachel, and present a plaque on behalf of Brooklyn Dodgers fans across the nation.

It was quite an honor. Rachel Robinson treated me as though I were somebody important, not just a baseball card collector and teacher from upstate New York. She spent over two hours visiting with me and my wife in her office at the Jackie Robinson Foundation in Brooklyn. She told me stories about Jackie Robinson and she shared information about the work she was doing to keep his memory alive.

Today the entire Los Angeles Dodgers' team will wear number 42, Jackie's uniform number, in his memory. Many players on other teams will wear number 42 as well. It is Jackie Robinson day in baseball. If you see me today, I'll be wearing a Jackie Robinson pin, doing my small part in celebrating a great man. He is someone who truly earned the title of hero.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 8:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I never intended to write another blog about Don Imus. And, in most respects, this isn't about Don Imus. Don Imus has been fired by CBS. So be it. The powers that be can make their own decisions, regardless of what Foxy Gagnon and his band of blogoteers feel about it.

There is something about the entire aftermath, however, that bothers me a great deal. Over the past 48 hours it was pretty tough to remote control my way around the hundreds of television channels without seeing the Reverend Al Sharpton being interviewed or without hearing him referenced by some talk show host.

It seems that everyone wanted Al Sharpton's opinion. Or, to a lesser degree, Reverend Jesse Jackson's opinion. But who are they? Who elected Al Sharpton the morality President of the United States? Who elected Al Sharpton the President of Black America?
Does he hold some official title that has earned him so much power?

Why in the world would CBS President Les Moonves feel he would have to talk to Al Sharpton before making a decision about Don Imus? Is Sharpton on the Board of Directors of CBS? Is he a major financial contributor to CBS Corporation?

Has there been some kind of secret vote that I don't know about whereby the Reverend Al Sharpton was elected official spokesperson for America's African-American population?

Why would Les Moonves not be more interested in talking with the Rutgers' women's basketball coach, Vivian Stringer? Or with the women from the outstanding Rutgers' team? They were the victims of Imus's crude comments.

But, no, it's the power of Al Sharpton that seemed to have everyone cringing over the past few days. Yet, for many years he has been a man known for his sharp-tongued cutting remarks and outlandish statements. This is a man who has been involved in even more controversy than Don Imus. In 2001 he served a three-month prison term for an act of civil disobedience. For years he has tried to disassociate himself from remarks he made in the Tawana Brawley incident. He also has nothing to say about the Crown Heights incident, even though he had plenty to say against the Jewish community in New York at the time.

In 1995 he led a protest in Harlem against a Jewish merchant and later, when eight people were killed, he tried to distance himself from the incident. In 2005 he appeared in several ads for an automobile title loan company, which eventually turned out to be disreputable. Sharpton then admitted that he hadn't done his research before agreeing to the ads.

So, the decisions have been made and Imus has been fired. More than likely he will move on, as has Howard Stern, to satellite radio, and he'll still be just as popular and controversial as ever. I'm not upset with the firing of Imus.

I just need answers. Who put Al Sharpton in charge?

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 5:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

Don Imus has had a radio talk show for over thirty years. I've never been a big Don Imus fan, but I do sometimes listen in on my car radio if I'm running around town getting some errands done. Or, in the mornings, I occasionally watch the television show "Imus in the Morning" on MSNBC. He has always been rather gruff, I just don't dig the cowboy hat he wears and sometimes he tries to be funny at the expense of someone else, similar to Las Vegas comedian Don Rickles.

During those years on the radio, Imus has raised millions of dollars to support cancer research. He has his Imus Cattle Ranch for Kids with Cancer in New Mexico. He's done a lot of good -- good which, to me, far outweighs the occasional controversies he's caused.

Last week he made some rude crude comments about the Rutgers women's basketball team. He was obviously trying to be funny, and his group of sidekicks laughed along. But the firestorm that has followed is far from funny for Imus. It has put him in the situation of apologizing on network news programs, as well as his own cable/radio show.

In explanation, Imus's main point is that his is not a news show; it's a comedy show. Even though he often has serious discussions with prominent people from around the country, I have never considered him a "newsman." He's a "talk show host." And, in this day and age, talk show hosts say outlandish things in an effort entertain or increase ratings.

Without question, what Imus said, in an effort to be funny, was terrible. I cringed when I heard the replay on a news show. And it's not the first time he has said something controversial or insulting. Imus has faced the furor head-on, which doesn't surprise me. He also faces a two-week suspension of his talk show, which does surprise me.

Some people, especially Reverend Al Sharpton, have urged executives to fire Imus. Frankly, I don't care what happens to Don Imus. It won't affect my life one way or the other.

The point it makes to me, however, is that the entire incident points out how quickly someone's reputation can change. Anyone in the media can ruin their reputations and careers in a few seconds with an inappropriate remark.

And that includes me! I left my 35-year career in education with a clean record. Even though, like all teachers, I had some skirmishes with students or parents at times, I left with a good reputation. The students in my final class I ever taught carried me down the Stafford Middle School hallways on their shoulders ... and they didn't even drop me!

With my cable television shows I've built a reputation, especially with kids, who sometimes ask me for my autograph! And, they are serious. I've had five-year-old kids shout out my signature closing, "Good Night, North Country."

Yet, my reputation could be ruined if, in an effort to be funny in one of my On the Sly blogs, I make an inappropriate remark. I might be kidding someone in a good-natured fashion and it just comes out the wrong way. I might get worked up over some subject like city politics or major league baseball or dating, and inadvertantly say the wrong thing!

So much for Foxy's reputation. All the apologies in the world won't let people forget what Mel Gibson said about Jewish people or what Michael Richards, the beloved Kramer, said about African-Americans.

For now Imus is in mourning, and he has vowed that changes will be made in his program when he returns from the suspension. That remains to be seen. But everyone should be on alert that one false move, one improper incident, can crumble a reputation built in a lifetime.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 7:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (15)

About a month ago an article by Marilyn vos Savant in PARADE magazine caught my attention. It was titled "The Most Unwanted Inventions," and it listed readers' responses to items they would most like to un-invent.

Surely there are many things that really serve no useful purpose, things that the world might be better without. The top choice was high heels. That wouldn't be my top choice. I mean, I haven't worn high heels since I dressed like an old lady on Halloween when I was ten.

Among the other items listed in the article were leaf-blowers, video games and neckties. I would never buy a leaf-blower, but I have seen people use them to blow all their leaves into neat piles by the curb or into their neighbor's yard. I don't play video games, although I did at one time enjoy playing the trivia game You Don't Know Jack!

And ties I wore most of my life, and I have a tie collection of well over a hundred that I'll be selling on eBay this summer.

I was surprised that my one most unwanted item wasn't on the list. The one invention that absolutely drives me crazy is my little automatic door locker for my car. I mean, I use it when I get out of my car to lock my Pontiac, and I use it when I get close to my car to unlock the doors, but why was this invented? Was putting the key in the lock deemed too difficult a task? One of the first things I learned as a young driver was how to get in the car in the first place!

The most ridiculous button on that little black contraption on my keychain is the trunk button. Do I really need help opening the trunk of my car? Do I have to tell you how many times I walked away from my car, pushed my keys into my pocket, and returned later to find my trunk wide open?

That little trunk button is more trouble than it's worth. I'm now in the habit of turning around and checking to make sure I haven't inadvertantly opened my trunk when I walk away from my car.

And is there a button on there to close the trunk? Of course not! So, after you've parked your car and walked 200 feet away and you're almost in WalMart, you have to walk back to manually close your trunk.

Let's face it -- some inventions, like garbage disposals and microwaves and computers, really do make life easier. But other inventions make me wonder about their value. Like those sneakers for kids that light up when they walk. With every step their feet flash like lights on a Christmas tree.

Or the new invention my friend Tony has that allows him to play his favorite songs on my car radio. Aren't my CDs good enough? Don't I get enough AM and FM stations to keep him amused? I mean, is there really a need for something like that?

I can guarantee you that you'll never see Foxy Gagnon in a store buying some machine so I can play my favorite songs on your car radio. I can guarantee that you won't see me walking into a local gym with my sneakers lighting up. And it's a lifetime guarantee you won't see me wearing high heels, regardless of what the special occasion is!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 7:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

I've been buying lots of CDs lately, even though I once said I would hold out and play cassette tapes and my vinyl record collection till I died. Once I gave up on that ridiculous notion my CD collection grew quickly. And in the last year, it has almost doubled again.

I've trying to keep up with the latest contemporary artists, including John Mayer, Jack Johnson, Amos Lee, Daniel Powter, James Blunt, Paolo Nutini, Kid Rock, Uncle Kracker, Nickelback, Pretty Ricky, Akon, Ludacris, and a youngster from Texas named Kelly Miller.

The other day while I was shuffling through my CD collection it occured to me that I had no idea what record labels any of these artists performed for. One of my favorite features of my old 45 rpm record collection is the bright array of record labels each recording company had. The record labels were like works of art. The colors and design of the record label sometimes attracted your attention and they looked great lined up in a jukebox.

Do you remember the design of the Sun Record label? Those were Elvis's first recordings and, when I started buying 45s, Jerry Lee Lewis was the star of Sun Records, with the bright yellow block-style SUN and, as I recall it, a maroon background.

Elvis switched over to RCA, the record label with the dog Nipper staring at a Victrola. My first 45-rpm purchase was at Les Spofford's The Record Center and it was "Good Golly, Miss Molly" by Little Richard, who recorded for the Specialty Label, which featured a black-and-yellow design.

In the Sixties Atlantic Records had many stars, including Sonny & Cher. Their record label was red and black. In fact, the aforementioned Paola Nutini records for Atlantic Records, but you'd never know it unless you really searched for it on his CD.

Coral Records were orange, Chess records were blue and Columbia records were orange with white lettering.

Some record labels were much more artistic. For example, Motown Records were blue with a little road map of the Detroit area. Also, the Reprise record label had a steamboat, Capitol records had the dome of the United State Senate and Elektra records had a caterpiller. As a kid, I knew them all. It was its own art form in those days. I miss that from today's CDs.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 10:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

The major league baseball season is officially underway, and all is right and good in the world. Even though baseball will never again be the way it was when I grew up, I just can't turn away from the game I learned to love as a kid.

That was in the 1950s and 1960s when many players stayed on one team their entire careers. Even Jackie Robinson, my all-time favorite player, retired rather than wear a uniform other than the Brooklyn Dodgers. Can you picture Pee Wee Reese in a St. Louis Cardinals uniform? No way. Stan Musial and Bob Gibson were Cardinals, and Joe DiMaggio and Mickey Mantle were Yankees. Ted Williams was a Red Sox player. If some owner told him to go play for another team he'd tell that owner where to put his Louisville Slugger.

Nowadays you definitely need a scorecard to identify the players and most players end up playing for five or six teams in their career. Bernie Williams and maybe Derek Jeter may be the last of a dying breed of one-franchise players.

And forget about those pitchers throwing a complete game. That has gone the way of the hulahoop and penny candy. Back in 1953 Robin Roberts led the National League in complete games with 33. He made 41 starts and finished all but eight of them. In 2006 Aaron Harang of the Cincinnati Reds and C. C. Sabathia of the Cleveland Indians led their leagues with six complete games.

It just has to make you feel that we've lowered the standard on what it takes to be a major league baseball player. And with 30 teams nowadays instead of 16 when I was growing up, you have to believe that there are a lot of minor league players who get to earn big league salaries.

Anyway, even though baseball has changed in those ways and others, I still love it. And back in 1992 my son Erik and I started the Gagnon Fantasy Baseball League. It had just three teams that year, but now, 16 years later, it has five teams. The originals, Foxy's Foxes and Erik's team, now called Erik's Avengers, still remain. The other three teams are Goose's Ganders, owned by my brother, Lonnie's Lone Stars, owned by friend Lonnie Barriere, a big Texas Rangers fan, and Rostak's Roosters, owned by friend Ed Rostak.

You can bet at league meetings there are plenty of arguments, what with the owners being fans of the Dodgers, Mets, Yankees, Rangers and Pirates. That's because we all love baseball, and true baseball fans can always find something to argue about, even if it's about what stadium sells the best hot dogs. We all know the answer is the Dodger Dog at Dodger Stadium.

I happen to believe that I will win the 2007 Gagnon Fantasy Baseball League championship. When I tell you my lineup, you will surely agree. My first basemen (we are allowed two players at each infield position, five outfielders, and then a pitching staff) are Justin Morneau, one of baseball's bright new stars, and Carlos Delgado, slugger extraordinaire.

At second base who has the most hits for that position over the past year and a half? The answer is Robinson Cano and Chase Utley. Both proudly wear Foxy's Foxes uniforms. My shortstops are Miguel Tejada, over 100 runs batted in for six of his last seven seasons, and Carlos Guillen, who has hit .320 the last two seasons.

At third base, you can have A-Rod all you want, but I'll take Troy Glaus, who hit 38 home runs last year, and Garrett Atkins, a relative nobody who hit .329 and drove in 129 runs for Colorado last year. At catcher I have the American League batting champion Joe Mauer, with future Hall of Famer Mike Piazza as the backup.

My starting outfielders are New York Yankees: Johnny Damon, Hideki Matsui and Bobby Abreu, with Ichiro Suzuki and Nick Swisher waiting when the Yankees face tough pitching.

The aces of my pitching staff are new Red Sox phenom Dice-K Matsuzaka, Tigers' ace Jeremy Bonderman, C. C. Sabathia, Mets' phenom Mike Pelfrey, Mark Buehrle, just to name a few. And for the bullpen Joe Nathan is one of baseball's best.

How can I lose?

It's time for Moms and Dads to play catch with their kids, time to set up the tee-ball stand, time to oil up the gloves and time to sit with your kid or best friend and watch a baseball game. This is the best time of year and lasts all the way through October!

My major league prediction: I'm cheering for the New York Yankees this year, because my Los Angeles Dodgers want a piece of them in the World Series. I can see it now! Dodgers beat the Yankees in the Fall Classic, while guys like Johnny Podres, Duke Snider, Sandy Koufax, Wes Parker, Steve Garvey, Ron Cey, Davey Lopes and Willie Davis watch from the stands.

Ah, that's my fantasy!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 4:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (15)