On The Sly

May was a busy month and we are about ready to wrap it up and bring on June. But not before I clear my desk of a pile of notes accumulated during May.

One year ago I wrote a blog about Eddie Feigner, the leader of the softball troupe, the King and His Court. The King died in February and since that time several people who knew him personally have contributed to the comments section of my blog. If you "google" the King and His Court, my blog shows up ninth among nearly 11,000 search results. It might be worth an extra look now that so many new and interesting comments have been published.

During May I interviewed local author Rebecca Leonard, who has recently published a book -- Adirondack Nightmare: A Spooky Tale in the North Country -- which also triples as a recipe book and instructional book, in addition to a "scary-fun" work of fiction. It's great reading for young and old alike and available at local venues. The book is topped off with the illustrations of Nick Leonard, Rebecca's son, a student at Peru Central.

Ducky Drake has a voice you immediately recognize. He's one of the morning guys at WIRY Radio, plus play-by-play announcer extraordinaire for Plattsburgh State men's hockey games and other sporting events. Ducky's done that job for longer than anyone at the station. Since he does radio work, people don't always recognize his face. But I recognized him on Monday, even though he had shaved off his beard and mustache. He looks younger, and word has it that his family approves of his new look.

Ducky's commentary on WIRY called "Is It Just Me?" is one of my favorite North Country tidbits. He comments on anything from City Hall to dog poop and most subjects in between. Ducky has a ringside seat for every Common Council meeting and often comes away with an interesting perspective about the workings of city government. From what I can tell, his sidekick at those Common Council meetings is none other than prominent Beekmantown Central teacher and sports trivia expert Craig Mathews. I wonder if Craig is sometimes a ghost writer for the Duck for certain topics. Nah, I doubt it. Otherwise, Ducky would sometimes call his segment, "Is It Just Him?"

I'm one who always reads those road signs and bulletin boards outside of local businesses. Maybe it's just the English teacher in me, reading it and checking the grammar and spelling automatically. But outside Phil Dubuque's Sunoco station I couldn't help but chuckle and cringe at the sign advertising a "Pulled Pork Sandwich Special." Maybe it's just me -- but I just can't see myself ever telling someone that I'd like a pulled pork sandwich.

I spent the past weekend hanging out with car lovers at the Champlain Valley Classic Cruisers Car Show at the Clinton County Fairgrounds. From Jerry Seymour, the club president, to the rest of his club officers, Dianna, Sue and Dave, to board members such as Kevin, Bob, Bart, Tom and the others, this club puts on a great show. It was well-organized and they gave away 50 plaques and nearly 100 trophies to happy car owners. Starting this Friday, club members gather at the Skyway Shopping Plaza in the early evening for their weekly "Cruise-In." Even if you're not a classic car owner, you'll still have a great time talking with the friendly club members and listening to Jerry's oldies. I'll be there on Friday.

Finally, I couldn't help but notice a familiar name under the engagement column in Sunday's Press-Republican. The headline was simply: "Harris - Smith." But when I read it I was informed of the engagement of Westport's own John Smith to Emilyann Harris. I first met John several years ago when North Country Cable videotaped the professional wrestling events at Champlain Centre. John was a big wrestling fan. Then we met again during the demolition derbies at the Essex County Fair. John was a member of the local volunteer fire department, working hard to keep everyone safe.

I'm sure there were a lot of sad ladies in Westport when they read of John's engagement. Another of the North Country's most eligible bachelors will bite the dust on July 20. Those Westport girls missed the boat on snaring John. Dry those tears, girls. He's a happy man ready to jump into the bliss of marriage. It couldn't happen to a nicer guy!

As you can see, those April showers did bring a batch of interesting May flowers. Now let's see what June has in store -- other than bugs!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 7:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

The exploits of Champ, the Lake Champlain monster, have been well-documented. Over 240 sightings and several websites that record its appearances. On one recent day on Lake Champlain, according to those who were there, a new green monster appeared and it in no way resembled Champ.

It all started out simple enough: a "Fox on the Run" television interview with Mickey Maynard, "the Lake Champlain Angler." Maynard, a lifelong North Country resident and a fisherman since his earliest days, loves Lake Champlain and everything about it. Visit his website, www.lakechamplainangler.com, and you'll know what I mean.

The day was beautiful, picture perfect. Eighty sunny degrees, just a light breeze, and blue skies. I met Mickey at his boat and we planned the morning activities, including an opening at Wilcox Dock, an interview with Mickey while we boated to a depth of about sixty feet to do some trout fishing, and then a discussion of fishing in Lake Champlain while Mickey reeled in fish and I jumped for joy. Heck, maybe I'd even reel in a big one!

I will admit that I have never been the fisherman nor the most sea-worthy guy in the Gagnon family. Those qualities belong to my brother Goose, who is a licensed Adirondack Fishing Guide. I've been out on the water with my brother a few times, but I mostly enjoyed the kool-aid instead of luring in fish.

And once I went on an ill-fated deep-sea fishing trip to Maine with a group of teachers, but that's a story for another blog.

On this particular day last week I was anxious to get out on the lake with Mickey and enjoy the pleasures of Lake Champlain. When my videographer Mark arrived, along with Jacqueline, my technical advisor, it was showtime! We taped my enthusiastic opening, promising information and action for the following hour. Little did I know!

As Mickey drove his boat miles from shore we talked about the health of Lake Champlain, the activities that Mickey is involved with, and we promised our viewers an interesting show. While we bucked the waves Mark somehow kept the camcorder under control.

Shortly we were near Crab Island, our site for fishing. Jacqueline kept us on course so we didn't crash into any buildings or vehicles that might be out in the middle of the lake. Mark rolled the camera as I asked Mickey about the equipment he was using. Something about down-riggers and lures. I tried listening carefully, but I was distracted by a strange feeling in my stomach. I felt the boat rocking and too often the boat was swaying one way while my stomach swayed the other.

This was a feeling I'd felt before. I've been through kidney stones and football concussions, but nothing equals the feeling of being seasick. I cautioned Mickey and he was helpful, handing me a bucket. I took a seat while Mickey prepared for our fun day on Lake Champlain.

Within minutes I was a goner, making the most of my bucket, while Jacqueline drove and Mark videotaped. Then I heard the magic words: "Fish on!" I grabbed the microphone and did play-by-play while Mickey toyed with this large trout he had hooked. It was a big one, but my stomach didn't care!

As the Lake Champlain Angler hauled in a fifteen-inch trout, I was reaching again for the bucket. The slimy fish seemed to give me a smile. I think he recogized Mickey as a "catch-and-release" angler, and I think he recognized the color of my face, which, by all reports, was now turning green.

I think Mickey, Mark and Jacqueline were trying not to laugh. They were fine, but I was green. Reports say there hasn't been a sight like this since Champ was spotted years ago in Port Henry. My head was rolling like I had a neck made out of a Slinky.

I'd had enough! I begged to be brought ashore. Enough of this "Fox on the Run." This episode will have be named, "Fox Has No Fun!" I think for now my fishing days are over. I don't even want to see a swimming pool.

The Lake Champlain Angler probably could have spent eight hours in that rocking boat and downed a dozen doughnuts to boot. And Mark and Jacqueline, my loyal employees, showed their moxie as sea-faring North Country residents.

But I thought I'd never make it to shore. I thought I'd be a customer over at Brown's Funeral Home by noontime. The closest I'll get to water for the next few months is watching an episode of "Gilligan's Island."

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 5:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Growing up on Fox Hill was wonderful -- Johnson Avenue, the 1950s and 1960s, residential area, two schools within a snowball's throw away, a streetful of kids around my age to hang out with, and a pick-up game to be found any day you wanted.

It was the kind of safe neighborhood that my Mom trusted me to take my little red wagon and pull it around the block on a summer afternoon, selling popcorn and kool-aid. Down Johnson Avenue to South Peru Street, up South Peru to Monty, and then all the way down Monty to South Catherine Street, past OLV Church and back onto Johnson.

Some days I might come home with a pocketful of nickels and dimes, maybe almost a dollar in all, happy to be a businessman at such a young age. And dreaming of the days that I'd have my own popcorn and kool-aid store. We thought Fox Hill was the best place on Earth.

What I didn't realize until much later in life was that all around Plattsburgh, kids in other neighborhoods thought that their place was the best place on Earth. The first "other" neighborhood I heard about was the Montcalm Avenue area, part of the French Quarter. For those of us up on Fox Hill, the word was "stay away from those Montcalmers." They were very territorial critters and didn't like any other neighborhoods passing down their street.

For that reason, whenever I went to Bailey Avenue field, I rode my bike down Lafayette Street or Champlain Street, never Montcalm Avenue. I didn't want any Montcalmer asking for my ID and discovering that I was a Fox Hiller. Who knows? They might have carried me back behind the Fourth Ward and stolen my baseball cards or something.

Ironically, it was a Montcalmer who saved my life one night in front of the College Inn. Some Air Force guy was going to bash my brains in, which he probably could have done with one hand. But a Montcalmer named Jeff recognized me from my high school sports days and he came to my rescue, giving me time to escape to the safety of my neighborhood. I told you those Montcalmers were tough!

These days some of my best friends are Montcalmers, and I now brag that I am actually an "honorary Montcalmer" because my parents had a Montcalm Avenue apartment when I was born in June, 1948. Six months later they moved to Fox Hill. Some say I was an early recruit by John Flynn and Sister Genevieve at OLVA, in anticipation of my future sports and academic abilities.

In high school I also came to know the neighborhood in the Scomotion Creek area of Plattsburgh. Most of those kids went to Plattsburgh High School and they were respectfully called "The Crickers." I only knew them from afar, saw some of them at the YMCA dances, and knew that most of the guys were tough and most of the girls were pretty ... and tough! A Cricker guy always had a girlfriend, and a Cricker girl always had a ton of guys who wanted to hang out with them. Mostly I just watched.

The neighborhood nearest to Fox Hill was "the Flats." I never knew much about the kids who lived on the flats, the area right near the winding Saranac River. I was afraid of water in my youth, never really learned to swim until I was in college and I stayed away from the flats, from fear that someone would push me in the river.

In addition, there were "the West Enders." In those days the west end of Plattsburgh didn't go very far west. There were some houses for a short ways up Rugar Street, but, as I recall, there were lots of trees in the west end of town. For me as a youngster that was untravelled land. I never went in that area on my bicycle or on foot. I don't even know if any kids were in the west-end neighborhood in those days.

I guess the final neighborhood I came to know was the so-called "Wiggletown Neighborhood." I was probably in college before I ever went that far out of Plattsburgh. Treadwells Mills became of my sites to monitor when I became a recreation supervisor for the Clinton County Youth Bureau. That's when I first saw the tee-shirt "I'm a Wiggler and Proud of It!"

I liked that shirt and wished someone would have given one to me. I never saw them for sale in stores. Those tee-shirts were based on their sense of neighborhood pride and I wondered why we had never created a tee-shirt for Fox Hillers.

I guess no matter where we grew up in those days we thought our own neighborhood was the best. Our memories of those days, those streets, those friends stay with us forever. And what I really like is that now that I'm an adult (alright, a senior citizen, according to the AARP) I have friends from all these neighborhoods.

FINAL NOTE: The Montcalmers are planning a reunion for this summer. It will be held at Meron's on August 4th at 7pm. Any Fox Hillers dare crash the party?

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 11:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (16)

As I sat in St. Peter's Church today for the funeral of my friend Gordie Coryea, I couldn't help but think that this place has become too familiar a setting. No matter what church, saying an emotional goodbye to a friend has become a sad habit.

As I listened to the words of the liturgy, I looked around the congregation and saw many of my school friends and older grads from Our Lady of Victory of Academy: Terry and Dee, Randy and Jennifer, Sal and Denise, John, Sue, Gerald and my brother Goose.

Gordie went to OLVA with us. What a great athlete he was and what a great guy! He's the kind of guy who could always make you laugh. He just thought of funny stuff to say, no matter what the moment. You liked to be around him.

I played high school sports with Gordie, and, in fact, from my vantage point at my computer I can see our team baseball picture -- OLVA Foxes 1964. Gordie is sitting front row center, probably fourteen years old, glove in hand. I'm seated right behind Gordie. To his left is Randy Dame, probably Gordie's best friend through high school.

After today's funeral Randy told me, "All through high school Gordie and I were attached at the hip. We were great friends." Somebody once said, "It's funny how quickly time passes away." But it really isn't funny. It's sad.

Time has taken its toll on the boys from OLVA. Maybe in my own lifetime it started with Billy Flynn, who died way before what is fair, and his teammate Don Buckley. And then guys who I passed in the school hallways like Carl King, Richard Reeves, Rod Dame, Pete Polhemus, Lefty Welch, Johnny Bouyea, Donnie Parent, Donald Wells, Gilles Maille and Don Kelley... and now, Gordie.

Ask anybody -- these were all nice guys. Someone wrote, "In the midst of life we are in death" and I guess that's true. We've reached the time of our life when we are grateful for the new morning and afraid to check the obituary column of the morning paper.

Our faces in our high school yearbooks look so hopeful. We were kids, and life's end seemed like an eternity away. How did we get here so fast? Our beards grey, our hair sparce, our eyes tired. Inside we'd love to play just one more high school baseball game.

This morning, John, Gordie's son, said, "I can picture my Dad right now rounding first and trying to stretch a single into double." I guess that's what we're all doing every day. Trying to stretch one more day out of life.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 5:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

One of my favorite episodes on one of my favorite television shows, The Andy Griffith Show, is when Gomer Pyle makes a citizens arrest on Deputy Barney Fife. If you remember the episode, you know that Barney issues a ticket to Gomer for making a U-turn in front of the courthouse.

Moments later Barney gets in the squad car and makes a U-turn! Gomer runs out into the street yelling, "Citizens arrest! Citizens arrest!" I don't even know if such a thing really exists. Maybe by now I should have asked some of my friends who are in law enforcement like Bob or John or Greg or even Kern.

The other day I was sitting in my car at the corner of Prospect Avenue and Cornelia Street. I was waiting at the red light and listening to Akon's "Don't Matter" on 95XXX. I was headed towards Plattsburgh High School. I waited patiently, watching cars hurry through the intersection.

As I saw my light turn green I proceeded into the intersection, only to be cut off by a guy making a belated left turn onto Prospect. I nearly sideswiped his vehicle! I slammed my brakes on as he cruised into the turn as if he owned Prospect Avenue.

I was mad! No road rage here, but that was the third time in four days that a vehicle had cut in front of me when I had the green light. I think this may be the most dangerous intersection in the city of Plattsburgh and I blog this as a caution to drivers who pass through this intersection.

Did you ever wish you were a policeman? In that instance that this fellow, who I recognized as a former student, went through a red light, I was wishing I could turn around, blare my siren and give this guy a good what-for ticket!

Could I have chased him down and issued a "Citizens Arrest"? Maybe that's what needs to happen to some of these drivers who make our roads unsafe.

The other time I'd like to be an honorary policeman is when I see drivers talking on their cell phones. In fact, one of the three drivers who cut me off in the past week was trying to make the turn while holding a cell phone and going through a red light! "Citizens Arrest! Citizens Arrest!"

I don't like cell phones anyway. I have finally broken down and bought one, but I hate to carry it around. And the other day when I did carry it around I lost it. I retraced my steps and spent over an hour trying to find the phone. I called my cell phone number but nobody answered. I wasn't there!

I finally found it, late at night, while doing a load of laundry. Don't ask! This incident just gave me another reason to hate cell phones. And when I see drivers blatantly disobeying the law, I would love to make a "Citizens Arrest!"

Is there really such a thing as this? Or does it only occur in Mayberry?

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

You might know Rod Sherman. Since the 20th Century he has been President of the Plattsburgh City School District Teachers Union. More importantly since the late Sixties he has been an outstanding mathematics teacher in the city school district. I worked with him when we were all fuzzy-cheeked kids posing as teachers back in the Seventies.

He knows how to make numbers work, something I've never been good at. Don't look at my checkbook. It's full of arrows and strikeovers and asterisks. I'm sure Rod's checkbook is neat and correct with every decimal point in line.

But Rod also has an eye for architecture. Most people don't realize what a historian he really is. He can spot a former gas station at a thousand paces, and he recently pointed this out to me. Plattsburgh is full of former gas stations now dressed up as very different businesses.

The building across from Stafford Middle School, for example, used to be a gas station. I'd forgotten that. It's now Express Lane, but if you check out the front of the building you can envision the gas station. Rod tells me that it was Beauvais' Shell Station. And, once mentioned, I do recall the old days, pulling out of the school parking lot and veering into the gas station for a fill-up on my way home.

Just down the street you have an insurance agency on the busy South Catherine, North Catherine, Broad Street intersection. A former gas station. In fact, if you think back, there were gas stations all over the city. The building that houses Geoffrey's Pub used to be a spacious gas station, Garrand's Mobil. It became Tijuana Jail for many years and now is a popular restaurant and pub.

The flower shop on the corner of Miller and Cornelia Streets is built like a former gas station. I don't remember a gas station being there, but the consensus is that there is no doubt. You can tell by the architecture. Former gas station. The Cantwell Law Offices, the home of Ratigan Motors way back when, are in a building that used to be a gas station.

The gas station I frequented the most in my early days of driving was Steltzer's on South Catherine Street. I think they pumped Sunoco, but I'm not certain. There is still activity there, an engine repair shop or something. But check out the building and you will see that it is shaped like all the other buildings mentioned. Former gas station with ample room in front where the pumps used to be.

I think there were probably many other gas stations, especially up on Fox Hill. Is that one on the corner of Montcalm Avenue and Cornelia Street? Where Dandrow's Paint business is located?

Rod Sherman has really put me on to something. Lately I can't help myself. I find myself checking buildings as I drive around the city and country running errands. Sounds like Rod might have a great historical architecture course that he could teach at Clinton Community College if he ever retires.

Which I hope won't be anytime soon. He's taught math for over 35 years and he's still going strong. I could tell by the smile on his face when I saw him at Plattsburgh High School. He loves teaching. He knows his numbers. Lo and behold, he also knows his buildings!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 6:50 AM | Permalink | Comments (26)

The first thing I do when I wake up in the morning is head for the front door to grab my daily edition of the Press-Republican. For as far back as I can recall, I have looked forward to reading the daily newspaper. In my younger years I would look at the pictures to see if any of my friends had made the news as I hurried to the sports section to check the baseball standings and other sports stories.

Nowadays I glance at each headline and read the stories, especially local stories, that I'm interested in. I go page-by-page, especially enjoying the editorial and/or letters to the editor page. I carefully check the obituaries, hoping not to find a familiar name.

And then I devour the sports news, and, admittedly, check out my horoscope for the day, a habit started by a certain someone who steadfastly believes that the brief statements will truly shape our day. We are both Geminis.

To me it's a great way to start the day. And if you're a "baby boomer" the odds are the newspaper is a part of your day as well. But there's a problem with this -- our kids are not reading the newspaper and they never have. We fifty and sixty year-olds may be the last generation of newspaper readers. And then what?

ESPN baseball analyst Tim Kurkjian, who spent much of his career as a newspaper sports reporter, said that he is worried about the future of the newspaper business. High school and college kids have too many other ways to get the latest news.

In fact, the current young generation doesn't even watch the television news. Bernard Goldberg, noted television commentator and author, has pointed out that over the past several years the viewership of television news has been cut in half.

We don't have to look far to find out where our kids are getting their information -- it's right here on the computer! Are we living in the midst of the rapid death of the daily newspaper? That's a scary thought to me. I'm a nervous wreck if my newspaper isn't at my door when I wake up in the morning. I find myself checking every five minutes (okay, every three, maybe two, minutes) to see if it's been delivered.

Look what's happened at the Press-Republican in the past few years. While maintaining excellence in newspaper publishing, they have established a website and the latest news is just a click away. I check this website several times a day (as you know, I'm retired!) to see if there's an update.

Many of us had never heard of the word "blog" a few years back. Now, the Press-Republican presents blogs from the newsroom, the sports department and, most recently, J.W. Wiley, in addition to this "On the Sly" blog.

You can bet that the editorial staff of the Press-Republican is well aware of changes in readership. I have no idea whether newspaper subscriptions are up or down. I just know that in the past two years the editorial staff has put a lot of time and effort into the success of this website.

Even though I get information throughout the day from my computer, I still need my dose of the printed page each morning. Before my shower, before my can of V-8 juice, before my breakfast, before my good morning phone call from a certain someone, I want my newspaper!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 9:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

It was a simple act of kindness but it sure made a difference in a few people's lives. There I was today, standing at the counter in a local Stewart's Shops, waiting to order an orange-pineapple double scoop ice cream cone to officially kick off the summer season. After all, the temperature had just hit 80, and I thought that would be a deserving lunchtime treat.

To my left I couldn't help notice a beautiful girl with curly blonde hair. She was about 22 years old, looked like a model and was nicely dressed in a flowing brown skirt and matching top. I was in no hurry to get my cone. Maybe a college girl, I thought. Or, maybe on her way to a job interview. She was waiting to pay for a pack of gum and a candy bar.

I turned to my left to casually peruse the store while stealing more looks at this beauty by my side. Another young girl approached me. She was holding some money in her extended right hand. I saw a $20 bill on top of a folded pile of money. This girl was also very pretty, I might add, and I recognized her as Kaitlyn Parker, former standout athlete and student at Plattsburgh High School. She has probably graduated from high school by now, but I'm not certain. You kind of lose track of years at my age.

Kaitlyn looked at me, perhaps recognizing me as a former teacher at Stafford Middle School, and said, "Did anyone drop this?" I looked at the nice pile of money. I felt in my right front pocket, my money pocket, and I knew it wasn't mine. The extended hand with money caught other customers' attention.

The beautiful blonde turned and said, "Oh, it's mine!" I pointed and said, "Oh, it's hers!" I've always been a pretty honest guy. I acted as intermediary and took the money from Kaitlyn. I couldn't resist looking at the entire stack of legal tender (the money, I mean), which added up to $120. I passed the money to the beautiful blonde who explained that it had dropped from her skirt pocket. I don't think skirt pockets were meant to hold $120 in cash.

But, without a doubt, the star of the show is Kaitlyn Parker. I hope I spelled her name correctly. Being a young girl I'm sure she could use $120 -- but she was too honest to secret it away into her jeans pocket. By the way, jeans pockets were meant to hold $120.

This $120 might have been the beautiful blonde's rent money or car insurance money or money she had worked all week to earn. I'm sure she appreciated Kaitlyn's act of kindness. I know I did. Heck, I wanted to reach in my own pocket and give her at least a $20 reward. And maybe I should have, but I'm on a fixed income these days!

And imagine all the bystanders who saw Kaitlyn hand over the $120 found money. Some of them might even call Kaitlyn names for being so honest. They'll be talking about that girl in Stewart's who gave away all that money instead of just picking it up and putting it in her pocket.

I always liked Kaitlyn Parker. She always seemed like a nice person when I knew her back when she was 12 years old at SMS. I always liked how she played her high school sports -- with intensity and class. Today she gave me another even better reason for liking her!

Tomorrow maybe you'll find me over at that same Stewart's -- seeing if anybody else drops money on the floor or if any blondes come in for a pack of gum and a candy bar.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 3:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

Rosie O'Donnell and her comments have been getting a lot of attention lately on the talk show rounds, especially from the Fox News guys in the evening. Whether she is dissing Donald Trump or President Bush or the news media, she always seems to have plenty to say.

The part that bothers me, though, is -- why does anyone really care what Rosie has to say about politics or people or our world, or anything else for that matter? She's never been elected to any political office, never been given any awards for accomplishing anything even close to making a difference in our world.

Let her earn a Congressional Medal of Honor or a Purple Heart or the Nobel Peace Prize, or even a Pulitzer Prize Award. Then I might listen to what Rosie has to say.

However, I guess I'm different from guys like Bill O'Reilly and Sean Hannity and Rush Limbaugh who seem to really care what Rosie says. Her comments have been given more air time on their shows than comments by President Bush or any of the Presidential candidates. I just don't get it. What Rosie says or thinks really doesn't matter one iota.

However, there are plenty of things that really do matter. Like ending this war. I don't care what so-called side you are on in this never-ending battle. I don't care if you want to stay for the long haul or bring our troops home tomorrow. Regardless -- let's just get it over with. Either let's spend the next month using all of our military might and "win the war," or let's bring our soldiers home with the message that we did all that we could, give the soldiers our sincere thanks, and let them get back to their family and friends. That's what really matters.

And gas prices really matter. How come the talk shows seldom mention how our gas prices are headed towards $4 a gallon? When I was sixteen I paid 32 cents a gallon. How can hard-working young couples trying to make ends meet even afford to drive from Peru to Plattsburgh each day to go to work? Isn't someone making barrels full of money when prices continue to rise? What can our government officials do to stop that? That's what really matters.

And speaking of young couples, I'm amazed at how many North Country residents live from paycheck to paycheck in an effort to pay the rent, feed their kid and keep the car on the road. The easy route would be to just head over to Social Services and live off the government. But I know some young people who work a 3-to-midnight shift and then stay to work overtime a few hours each day so they can have some extra money to buy their kid a few Christmas presents. They are just too proud to put their hand out for something free. They want to work for it. To me that's what really matters.

Let's not forget all the senior citizens who live alone, whether in their family home or in a nursing home. Seldom visited by anyone they spend their days watching old movies on television and talking to their cat. Hey, I might be there some day! These seniors have lived full lives, given to the community and often end up alone. Who speaks for them? That's what really matters.

So, from now on, I'm turning the channel when news shows start talking about Rosie or Donald or Al Sharpton or anyone else whose opinion doesn't really matter on the grand scale of things. These people will all write books some day and make more money than they need.

I'd rather give that money to the soldiers, to gas buyers, to young working couples and to senior citizens. That's what really matters.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 7:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)