On The Sly

I rewrote the beginning to this blog seven times. The first draft sounded too depressing. The second was too personal and the third was too confusing. The fourth was too philosophical and the fifth sounded too much like a lecture. The sixth draft was too sad. So, for better or worse, here is the opening of my last blog of 2007, written on the last evening of 2007:

I had a lot of fun in 2007. If I had to do it over again, there are not many changes that I would make. I spent countless hours enjoying family and friends, both at my home and at sites around the North Country. I continued to write "On the Sly" and the readership continues to grow. The band of Blogoteers makes a thoughtful, witty cross-section of wonderful people.

I make money and spend money, some of it carelessly, but at my age does a buck or two really matter? I manage my calendar so that I'm busy when I want to be and still have time to relax, wear the sweat pants all day, and, as a certain someone calls it, "Just chill."

Little changes subtly crept into the life of Foxy Gagnon during 2007, though. For one, I've bought a steamer -- a real pro-style one -- and I use it several times a week for clams, shrimp or broccoli. And, finally, just a few days ago, I dug into the bottom of my wallet and purchased a bigger-than-27"-television. It hasn't arrived yet, but you can bet a future blog will soon be sitting in my living room.

It's good to reflect upon days gone by -- that's why at midnight I'll sing "Auld Lang Syne" to my cat Lily. But the days gone by in 2007 were sometimes sad ones. I lost a lot of friends during the year, as, I'm sure, did many readers. The names below were not all close friends, many were, but in some way they each left good memories.

HAROLD BATES was a teacher at Plattsburgh High School. He was always friendly, and already a veteran in the school district when I started teaching in 1970. I recall that he was good friends of Paul and Jan Dingman. He loved photography and was seldom seen without his camera. I'm sure his family has many albums of his photographs.

MIKE BRODI was among the best baseball players in our area. I have known his son since we were all kids. Among my baseball collectibles is an autographed baseball dated 1938. It has Mike Brodi's autograph on it, along with about a dozen other players, some of whom played in the major leagues.

DAN CARON is the story of a nice guy, great dad, who died too young. I only knew Dan over the past few years, when he moved into the neighborhood. So many lives were changed so suddenly the night that Dan died.

GORDIE CORYEA was a teammate of mine at Our Lady of Victory Academy, a fellow umpire in Little League baseball and the kind of guy who loved to trade stories over a beer. He was a great athlete and it's sad when illness takes away your ability to enjoy the better things of life in retirement. Sometimes all you can do is shake your head and say, "It's not fair."

ROZZIE FASSETT was just 44 years old when he died in a car accident. I had Rozzie as a student back in the early days. He was a great kid who I never forgot. When I would see him around town as he became an adult, I'd always say, "Hey, Rozzie" and he would just nod back, flash me a smile and give me a wave.

"PAPA FOX" FOUNTAIN was an original Montcalmer and one of the kindest men I ever met. His death created some confusion in the North Country as word spread that "Foxy" had died. A few people later in the day shook my hand in wonder that I was still alive. Sadly, the original "Fox" -- Mr. Fountain -- had died.

HOWARD JENNINGS SR. was my parents' insurance man when I was a kid. I remember so well sitting on the couch as my parents talked business with this distinguished man wearing a suit and tie. He seemed like a nice man. My parents liked and respected him. The Jennings raised quite a family with many talented children and grandchildren.

DONALD JESSEY was the father of my friend Ray Jessey. I went to many a birthday party as a kid at the Jesseys' house on Main Mill Street. Later when his grandchildren were in my Stafford Middle School English class, he and his wife came to visit during Grandparents Week. It was great to see them after all those years and they remembered me as that "Gonyea boy."

CHARLES JOCK and BOBBY JOCK were my Mom's cousins. Their father was my "Uncle Leonard." I never knew Charles or Bobby that well, but my Mom would often bring us to visit "Uncle Leonard." Late in his life he lived in a tiny trailer on the property of Guy Peryea on the Tom Miller Road.

JEREMY KLUGMAN was a former student and 7th grade basketball player for me. He was the smallest guy on the basketball team, but he grew up to be quite a man, winning awards as a coach. The son of my friend Jack Klugman, Jeremy died at the age of 37.

IGNATIUS LACOMBE was a gentleman. The story of Ignatius and his wife Dorothy are the makings of a Hollywood movie. Enlisted man meets officer nurse during the war years. Clark Gable could have played Mr. Lacombe and Carole Lombard could have portrayed Mrs. Lacombe. I met them many times and in my television videotape archives is an interview with the Lacombes, recounting the wonderful story of their lives.

ROD LAVALLEY was a basketball official when I was playing in high school. I always thought he was one of the most professional ones. Always calm, always making the right call, even though my Mom and grandmother might have yelled at him a time or two. I found out later he was a head honcho at the Motor Vehicle Department. I always thought he was just a basketball official.

MAL LAVERY liked to make people laugh. He and his comrade Paul Dingman started calling me "Raymond" or "Foxy" based upon my mood of the day. He got a lot of mileage out of his story about saving Paul Dingman's life when Paul fell out of a tree stand while on a deer hunting expedition deep in the North Country woods. Mal was a standout member of the Plattsburgh City School District Board of Education and was involved in many other community activities.

ANDRE LIGHT was my "Uncle Andre." He and his wife Honey (my grandmother Gagnon's niece) founded Light's Jewelers, one of the most respected jewelers in the North Country. I miss the days when his children, Tom, Andrea and Greg, and the other cousins used to get together at family events. Uncle Andre was always a kind, caring man.

MIKE MANNIX will never be forgotten. There is nothing more left to say about the man who never had a bad day. I know there are many of us who are trying to take that attitude as we face the troubles of being part of the older generation.

JOHNNY NIXON was one of the greatest athletes to ever wear the patriotic colors of Ausable Valley Central. He faced his illness head-on and met the challenges day by day. He was a role model. This year he was inducted into the Ausable Valley Sports Hall of Fame. It was a night to remember.

LEE PAISER was one of Seton Catholic Central's best volunteers. He did so many things for the school and the athletes and never wanted any recognition. Whenever I'd see him, he was a quiet guy with a friendly smile. He and his wife raised a wonderful family.

GENE PAVONE was a North Country character. Always armed with stories and jokes, he could entertain for hours. I am so happy that I was able to document his life on videotape -- one month before his death. He wore many hats during his lifetime and was always a success. Gene was my sister's father-in-law. We remembered him during grace at our Gagnon Thanksgiving this year.

RUSS RICKETSON rode a bicycle a lot. I would always see him at the Fourth of July parade, riding his bicycle and stopping to chat. He was a telephone man like my Dad. They were good friends. Russ's daughter Gail was a bronze medal winner in rowing in the 1976 Olympics in Montreal. He was always very proud of that.

LAURA RIGHI was the mother of my longtime friend Sal Righi. Although I never met Mrs. Righi, her son Sal is one of the finest men I've ever known. Laura lived to be 94, so she had many years to influence her little boy Sal and keep him on the right path. Sal still has his charming wife Denise to keep an eye on him.

AL RYAN grew up in Rouses Point and he was one of the first reporters I ever met. My grandparents and parents knew him. More recently, he became a Blogoteer for "On the Sly," occasionally writing comments from his home in Florida. He never forgot the North Country and shortly before his death, he published a book about growing up in Rouses Point.

JOHN SEIDEN was another New York Telephone Company man. He, too, worked with my Dad. Ask anyone who knew him and they'll tell you that Johnny Seiden was quite a guy. He, too, visited school during Grandparents Week and he entertained the students at length with stories of the war and the good old days of the telephone company.

ISABELLE SEIDEN was John's wife. She passed away on March 8, three weeks after John died. They were truly a couple. I met Isabelle a few times and she was always friendly. The remaining Seidens are nice people, thanks to having such caring and fun parents.

SUE SWOBODA wore many hats. A wife, mother, grandmother, school secretary, union leader, you name it. If there was a job to be done, ask Sue. You knew it would get done the right way. She was always doing favors for me at Stafford Middle School. And each morning and afternoon, I invaded her space for the school announcements. She kept track on a little post-it note on her desk for each time she had to cover for me for the announcements. I think I owed her about ten Bloody Marys by the time I retired. I think I still owe her.

CYNDI TOPNICK was kind, generous, friendly and one of the strongest women I have ever known. She fought cancer for many years. She served as a role model for many women that she never knew. She had so many people cheering for her. It's a shame that so many of the good die young.

FATHER THOMAS VOTRAW was a priest at OLVA during my high school years. In fact, when my parents planned a surprise 16th birthday party for me, they got me out of town by asking Fr. Votraw to play a role. Father asked me to go with him to Ausable Forks and pick up several boxes of books from his family home. With me out of the way, my family and friends could set up the OLVA church hall for the big surprise. The surprise worked. Who ever heard of a priest playing a trick like that?

BLANCE YOUNG was my fourth grade teacher at Monty Street School and, later, a colleague. I loved Mrs. Young as a teacher and she always remembered me. She didn't call me "Foxy" though -- she was too accustomed to calling me by my real first name, which I won't state here. It is because of teachers like Mrs. Young that I chose teaching as my own career.

May next year's list of my friends be shorter. As for 2008, I figure there's only good that come of it. After all, 2008 rhymes with mate, date, can't wait and great! If you believe in fate, I may have some interesting blogs in the year ahead.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 7:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (10)

When our local Dairy Queen closed down last year in favor of a Starbucks, I wasn't real happy. I was sort of a regular at Dairy Queen, unable to resist their Peanut Buster Parfait Cluster or their Banana Splits. Those flame-grilled burgers weren't bad either.

Not being a coffee drinker, I wasn't interested in Starbucks. Perhaps half the world have been in a Starbucks establishment, but not me. Not until a day or two before Christmas. A friend, let's call her RT, was in town and we decided to meet to update our lives. Not that mine has that much to update, but I figured I wouldn't turn down the chance to spend the afternoon with a nice girl with a pretty face.

She suggested a stop at Starbucks. I wasn't sure what to expect. Coffee doesn't interest me, but in the past few years I've come to enjoy a vanilla chai. Do they have that at Starbucks? Or, maybe on this cold winter's day I could have a simple hot chocolate.

When we entered the Plattsburgh version of Starbucks, I noticed that there were six female customers and one male. The women were talking quietly at little tables, while the guy was focused on his laptop computer.

RT, a regular at Starbucks in Albany, was my mentor as I tried to select something to drink. She showed me the menu. "Drink options to fit the way you live." That's on the front of the menu. OK. I'll have the "Foxy Gagnon eBay videotaping chillin' with friends havin' fun vanilla chai."

That wasn't on the menu, despite the claim "we offer up to 87,000 different drink combinations." It's time for them to add one more drink with whole milk, lots of whipped cream and plenty of chocolate. There was no way I could figure out the menu, so I simply said to RT, "Order me a hot chocolate."

"What size?" she asked.

"Medium," I retorted. Problem is -- at Starbucks there is no medium. You can order a "tall," which is really the smallest of the three size categories. "Tall is the smallest?" I asked RT. She smiled. She knew I was a Starbucks virgin, and I was in over my head.

I can handle Dunkin' Donuts, but Starbucks is too much for this North Country guy. "Do you want tall, grande or venti?" RT asked with a smile.

"Just pick one," I said as the customers behind us stared at me. They knew I was a Starbucks virgin, too. I ended up with a "whole milk hot chocolate without whipped cream grande" and RT ordered some six-word tea drink.

I decided to set the menu down rather than discover how many calories my drink contained. Had I been more experienced, I could have checked how much total fat, trans fat, saturated fat, dietary fiber, protein, vitamins, sugars and iron were in my "grande."

I'm not sure that I've fully recovered from my first time at Starbucks. I'm not sure I'll even go back. My friends Jack and Lynn like it there. They like the atmosphere and the beverages.

But it's just a little too much for me. I don't know the difference between brewed coffee, espresso, caffe Americano, caffe latte, caffe mocha, cappuccino, hot chocolate, chai, frappuccino and nearly 87,000 other possibilities.

I think you might need a masters degree just to work there. And the good people at Starbucks sure are environmentally conscious. I drank my complicated-name hot chocolate out of a "first-ever 10% post-consumer fiber cup" with a "60% post-consumer fiber sleeve." That's something good, isn't it?

Even their napkins make a point: "Less napkins. More plants." I put three napkins back on the counter for someone else.

The Starbucks menu reminds us, "You're in control of what goes into your drink, so you're in control of what goes into your body." I'll have to keep that in mind the next time I order my extra hot bucket of wings! What? No bucket of wings at Starbucks?

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

Once upon a time there was a man who lived in Rouses Point named Denny Wells. He was a longtime friend of my grandparents and parents and we called him "Uncle Denny." In fact, my middle name is Dennis, in honor of this family friend.

He never married, and, in his later years, when I was in high school, he lived in an apartment above the D&H Railroad Station. To pass the time he would cut out stories from the Press-Republican and the North Countryman and paste them in scrapbooks. These pieces of North Country history were passed on to me at the time of his death.

Yesterday I was looking through the January 1966 scrapbook and came across many interesting stories and names. Here's a sampling of what's inside:

A photo of Ron Garrow and Barney St. Germaine posing for a Golden Gloves boxing event.

High school basketball photos: Jimmy Vaughn of Plattsburgh High School, going up for a shot. The last I heard Jim was located in Vermont and was an executive with Sunoco. I saw him a few years back at Phil Dubuque's Sunoco station on Cornelia Street. Jim and Phil are former PHS teammates. And another photo of St. John's Pete Hayden guarding Tom Herlihy of PHS. The Irish won the game 71-69, despite 17 from Herlihy.

An article featuring Plattsburgh's First Lady, Virginia Steltzer, and how she keeps busy with six children, as well as community groups, such as the Mother's Club and St. John's Altar Rosary Society.

Fire destroyed a block of Champlain's businesses, including Mousseau Pharmacy, Leo Filion's Laundramat, Chevalier's Public Market and the law offices of Orville R. Dunn, as well as several apartments.

An interesting story about "Saxony Hotel to Open Soon Under New Management." Is there any lifelong North Country babyboomer who never shook a toenail at the Saxony? Mr. and Mrs. John Huntley were taking over the management of it in January '66 with an option to buy.

More basketball photos, including one of a young Al Rose coaching the St. Mary's of Champlain team and one of Johnny Burdo of Mount Assumption Institute making a layup. The language sure was different then, as the caption of Burdo's two-pointer states, "MAI's Johnny Burdo tallies with a hooker against St. Mary's." I hope his wife Bonnie doesn't read this!

Another basketball photo shows a certain "Ray Gagnon" dribbling into the forecourt, closely watched by MAI's Steve Beebie. The Mount won easily 88-45. Ugh! Apparantly the Foxes did a lot of dribbling, but not much scoring.

A sad story about Lt. Thomas Eldridge of Rouses Point, who was killed in action in Viet Nam. Just 25 years old, he had graduated from Champlain Central School in 1958.

Another interesting article with photos of Mary Lou Slattery, who made the list of Golf Digest's "most improved amateur golfers." Can anyone identify this standout Plattsburgh golfer?

An article about Andrew Simays, who was retiring after 28 years with Metropolitan Life Insurance Company. He was honored at the Witherill Hotel and received gifts from Forest Rogers, Met Life's regional manager, and Joe Lombardoni.

Orville Nedeau popped in 39 points, 13 field goals and 13 foul shots, as Mooers beat Ellenburg 82-63. Bob Harrigan scored 17 for Ellenburg. I wonder if that's the same Bob Harrigan who later became my Pi Alpha Nu fraternity brother at Plattsburgh State.

It's quite a scrapbook. There's a 29-cent price tag on the back. Worth 29 cents empty, but priceless with North Country history when full of newspaper clippings. And January 1966 was just about 42 years ago. Those years went by in a heartbeat.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 8:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (16)

Now that the last Christmas present is wrapped -- whoever invented gift cards should be given the Nobel Peace Prize! -- I can reminisce a bit about my favorite Christmases. With a cup of warm eggnog nearby, I think back to the first Christmas that I can recall.

It was Christmas Eve and I was probably four or five years old. I woke up in the middle of the night and tip-toed from my second floor bedroom to the top of the staircase. I peeked downstairs and saw Santa, looking just as he did a few days before when I sat on his lap in that store, putting presents under our Christmas tree.

I scurried back to bed, lest he see me, and in the morning I told my parents how I had seen Santa. They looked at each other and smiled, probably wondering what in the world I was talking about. I realized years later that it was all just a dream, but it seemed so real. Hey, maybe it wasn't a dream, after all.

One of my favorite Christmas years was 1957 when I was nine years old. A rock-and-roll music lover even at that age, I woke up Christmas morning to find my first stereo record player -- two big speakers -- and a 45rpm record of "Be Bop Baby" by Ricky Nelson. I played that song till it was all scratchy, but I knew every word of the song and was pretty good doing the air guitar bit and singing the words in my bedroom.

Christmastime was always a happy time at the Gagnons, except for the tradition of putting up the Christmas tree. Vi and Ray hardly ever argued about anything all year long, but you could bet there would be some yelling when it was time to put up the tree. The decision of which side should face the wall and whether it was straight or not took hours.

Just when it looked like Dad could escape the scene, Mom would make him move the tree "one more time." In the end the tree always looked perfect. If you ask my Mom she will tell you about the time I was just two years old, and I pulled the Christmas tree right down on top of me.

From that year on, Dad always tied the tree to the staircase, just in case I got too curious about those colorful presents under the tree.

Another favorite Christmas was 1960, when I was twelve years old, and I was allowed to attend Midnight Mass for the first time. Wow, here I was walking to church at midnight with Mom and Dad, while my younger siblings were tucked in bed by the babysitter. I beamed that entire time, feeling like an adult for the first time. I was amazed at how full the church was, barely a place to sit, and the church was all lit up, as though it were the middle of the day.

My fondest memories, of course, are of my own son, Erik, opening his presents and screaming, "Oh, boy, just what I only wanted!" at every gift he received. 'Course, Erik was 23 years old at the time!

No! -- he was about four and loved opening the huge pile of gifts that took hours to open.

It wasn't always easy, though, despite those famous words "Easy to Assemble" on some of those toys that had to be put together. Maybe "easy to assemble" for a heart transplant surgeon, but not "easy to assemble" for the normal Dad who sometimes had trouble opening a box of Shredded Wheat.

Christmas is for the kids, and for the parents who have those kids. Or for grandparents, I suppose. I know Goose will have a lot of fun on Christmas Day helping his granddaughter Raeanna play with her new toys.

Merry Christmas to all my friends, and especially to the wonderful Blogoteers, who give me so much to laugh about and write about. I hope you each get that special gift that you are dreaming about!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 8:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

As noted in an earlier blog, growing up on Johnson Avenue in Plattsburgh was a pretty comfortable thing. Just across the road from our house was the Elizabeth Street School yard, the perfect place to play baseball. Just down the street was Burdo's Market, where you could get a bag of Kitchen Cooked potato chips for ten cents and a Pepsi for fifteen cents.

Almost every family had kids and was headed by a stay-at-home mom and a hard-working dad. Victor was a trucker, Glenn and Gene worked for NYSEG, Clinton worked for the United States Postal Service. Ralph and my dad worked for the New York Telephone Company. Sparky ran a gas station and Russ worked at Imperial Paper Company. Bernard was a school teacher.

Seldom did anything happen to disrupt the "Leave It To Beaver" neighborhood that I grew up in. It made it all the more shocking when Blogoteer Jim, he of Apple Jack fame, sent me a newspaper clipping from the PLATTSBURGH SENTINEL, dated 1930.

The headline blared: PRIVATE KAISER FOUND SLAIN ON JOHNSON AVENUE. This was the days when the Army's 26th Infantry was stationed on what later became Plattsburgh Air Force Base. According to the story, the 28-year-old soldier was found at eleven o'clock on a February evening in a vacant lot. No addresses are given so one can only speculate where on Johnson Avenue that might have been. The body was found near the home of Samuel Goodwin.

Two Company B privates found the body and, along with Goodwin, carried the body to the Goodwin home. At first they thought the man was drunk, but they later realized that he was dead, so they contacted the Army Post Hospital. A fractured skull was listed as the cause of death. Investigation revealed that Kaiser had argued with three other soldiers earlier in the evening.

The three men in question were named Gallagher, Alpine and Sissler. They returned to the post at 2am and were taken for questioning. I guess I'll have to do some research to find out what happened in the ensuing weeks.

That tragedy occurred 18 years before Ray and Viola Gagnon bought their first home, a two-story three-bedroom home at 48 Johnson. Their first child was six months old, and two other children, a boy and then a girl, would grow up in that home as well.

Just goes to show you: you never know -- you just never know.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 9:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (11)

The countdown starts tomorrow -- students and, yes, teachers will all be thinking -- final week of school before the holiday break. I remember the ritual well. Thirty-five times during my teaching career I thought about it. I looked forward to the holiday break like no other break during the school year.

I would always cover it up by saying, "The kids need a break!" But I was the one who was ready for the week and few days off at Christmastime. I always tried to plan ahead so that I wouldn't have tests or essays to correct. It was a time to take a real holiday break.

As I think of that this year, though, I figure there are some people who really need a holiday break more than any other, and that's our fighting soldiers way on the other side of the world. I can't think of a group of people more deserving of a break. I don't think President Bush has time to read "On the Sly," but I'll make the proposal anyway. Maybe somebody will get the message to him.

How about sending our troops home for a two-week break? Let's put up signs all around Iraq and Afghanistan: "We will be back on January 5." Let's get some of those big airplanes we own, even Air Force One, and fill them to capacity with our soldiers and bring them home for the holidays.

Wouldn't this help troop morale more than anything else? Would it really matter if we left for two weeks and just took a break from the war? We could just leave everyone else to fend for themselves for two weeks and see how they do.

I'm not in any way proposing we just give up. I'm just saying "take a break." We could maybe get some senators or entertainers or athletes to volunteer to go overseas and keep an eye on things while the real heroes come home for two weeks to spend the holidays with their kids and families. Maybe even President Bush could give up a little time and head over there to check out all the progress his surge has made.

Who knows? Maybe even Sean Hannity and Bill O'Reilly could spend some time over there and show how patriotic they really are. I'm sure that O'Reilly would be glad to go. He'd get a chance to be labeled a "patriot" and not a "pinhead." And he could write another best-seller about his two weeks tour of duty.

There would be other benefits to bringing our troops home for a two-week break. Some of them could ride with Santa in the holiday parades. Kids all over the United States would scream in joy to see Daddy or Mommy sitting under the Christmas tree.

And think of all the money we would save! 50,000 troops would be eating at home instead of on the government tab in Iraq. Think of the money we would save with a two-week break from using guns and ammunition.

I'm sure the soldiers would find plenty to do while back home for two weeks. They'd be spending money left and right, which would be a nice boost to our economy. And I'm sure around September of 2008 we'd have a whole new generation of Baby Boomers.

I think this is a proposal worthy of consideration. After years of being in a war where it's so difficult to see or measure progress, would a two-week break really matter?

Not to mention the benefits that President Bush would derive from such a kind gesture. His sagging popularity ratings would jump to new heights. He'd even be considered a hero.

I see no reason why we can't bring our heroes home for the next two weeks. Let's give them a real holiday break.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 6:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

For some reason I woke up extra early today, 4:35am, and headed to the front door to see if my newspaper carrier had arrived with the Press-Republican. He had. Before I had even closed the front door, I saw the headline: MIKE MANNIX DIES.

We all knew that Mike had battled cancer for years, but you never would have known it whenever you saw him. When someone asked, "How are you, Mike?" he always gave people that little Irish grin and responded, "Never had a bad day."

We all had heard that Mike was at CVPH over the past several weeks and that he wasn't doing well. We all wished that things could be different. We all silently feared that his time had come.

It is hard to imagine anyone having more friends than Mike. He was involved in so many activities in his life that he knew everyone. When I was in high school he did the play-by-play of football and basketball games on the local radio stations. He loved it, and he kept notes on all the players.

Just before he retired from his job as executive director of United Way, I interviewed Mike for my "Fox on the Run" television show. We had fun, remembering his childhood and recounting some of the many organizations he's been involved with. He spoke fondly of his family, his wife Judy and his daughters Colleen and Cathy.

A bit later we met for breakfast. When he slid into the booth at a local restaurant he pushed a hardcover book across the table to me. Titled STRIKING SILVER, it was the story of the 1972 United States Olympic hockey team, a team which won the silver medal, but had never received much recognition.

Mike liked to be the champion of the underdog and the book sort of symbolized what Mike was all about. He loved spreading the good news. He loved telling a humorous story, and many of us were part of his morning joke or anecdote he would e-mail to friends.

That day Mike also brought a folder of the early years of Plattsburgh Youth Hockey, an organization he helped found. It was one of many organizations in which he served as a leader. We agreed that this winter we would get together again for breakfast and then I would write a blog about the early days of PYH.

Mike was an original "On the Sly" Blogoteer, using the pseudonym "Zonebreaker." His comments never failed to stir up memories or, at times, gently rib other Blogoteers, such as "Bullet" or "The Old-Timer" or "The Carver."

Mike made an impression on everyone that he met. He had a way of lifting our spirits, of making us smile, of making us feel better about ourselves. I have never known a man who took so much joy in simply going to work. I have never known a man who so many people loved and respected.

It won't be easy to say goodbye to Mike Mannix. But his twin brother Marty and all those other Red Sox fans better watch out in 2008. You can bet that Mike is already talking with Mantle and DiMaggio and Gehrig and the Babe. The 2008 Yankees may never have a bad day.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 4:55 AM | Permalink | Comments (24)

Back when I played sports in high school, I think I would have been thought of as a "coachable kid." If Coach Flynn said to try it his way, I tried it his way. He spent a lot of time and yelling, trying to get me, the lefty, to move to my right in basketball. It finally paid off and I had a fun senior year.

So, it shouldn't surprise you if I say that I listen to my elders. And, when it comes to cooking clams, I've listened to my elders, the honorable Blogoteers Skip and The Old-Timer. Even last Friday night they were reminding me that they know best when it comes to Littlenecks over mahoganies, and steaming them, not boiling them.

A week ago I even went so far as to actually spend fifty bucks on a stainless steel steamer. I mean, it's a beauty! All shiny and with a glass lid. It didn't take long for me to hurry over to the local seafood department and pick up a bag of the much-ballyhooed Littlenecks.

And to sort of top it off, I grabbed a bag of shrimp. I said to the girl working at the seafood counter, "What's this thing about shrimp? Can you steam shrimp?" She showed me the company flyer where right there at the seafood counter they steam the shrimp for you.

"But I've got my own steamer!" I exclaimed.

I walked out of the store with a bag of Littleneck clams in one hand and a bag of shrimp in the other. Since then I've enjoyed these treats not once, not twice, but almost daily! It's a problem!

Is there any health issue in eating too many clams and shrimp? Those Littlenecks open up in that stainless steel steamer like they can't wait to be eaten. Those shrimp turn a delicious pink in a matter of minutes. All you do is boil the water in the lower compartment and let the steam do its work.

And next on my list is steamed broccoli and steamed cauliflower, recommendations from a certain someone. What else can I use this steamer for?

Things are so steamy around my kitchen that the wallpaper is wilting off the walls. Things are so steamy around my kitchen that my cat Lilly looks like a drenched rat. But I don't care. I've got the best-tasting treats I've ever had.

Who needs greasy burgers and french fries when you can have clams and shrimp for lunch? Who needs to go to all the trouble of cooking potatoes and grilling a steak when you can steam up some clams and shrimp for dinner? And, for my nine o'clock snack, no more popcorn and soda. It's shrimp! Shrimp cocktail, shrimp kabobs, shrimp with rice, shrimp with butter, shrimp with peanut butter! Whatever! I'm enjoying clams and shrimp more than Bubba Gump himself.

Oh, I'm so happy I listened to Skip and The Old-Timer. What great clam coaches they are! Now I guess the next step is to sit with them in the summer of 2008 and try one of those raw clams they keep telling me about.

Maybe you've heard those rumors that things can get pretty steamy over at Foxy's place.
Until I get into those raw clams, you can bet that Foxy's got the steamiest place in the North Country!

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 12:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

It was a night full of highlights. The stories and beverages were flowing at Meron's last night as golfers, Blogoteers, jocks, ex-jocks and local dignitaries gathered to celebrate the past, present and future at the Carver's annual December meeting.

As promised, I took a cab and when I arrived at 5:35pm the place was already abuzz. The $100 seats were already taken and the line of dignitaries there to greet me was impressive. The Donald and Old-Timer and Skip and Jim and Dr. Mike had prime seats for the event. The Carver greeted me with a hug and surprise sign he had procured which said, "Merry Christmas, Noooooooorth Country!" I'll tell you, the Carver has connections!

It was an impressive group of Blogoteers who gathered to rehash old blogs and suggest new ones. Kern, all the way from Albany, was one of my happy surprises. Later, his Dad Al arrived, making them one of the top Father-Son combos in attendance, along with Dr. Mike and his soccer coach son Chris.

Craig Mathews, Common Council and Black Friday observer extraordinaire, arrived early and stayed late. Retired telephone man Bill Penders was at his best, and then Vin Scully arrived. Word about this special event had obviously permeated the community. The Irelands, the Mercurios, the Ravilles, the Barnes, the Bainbridges, the Lefebvres all added to the festivities.

Skip and the Old-Timer, the Clam Masters, took time to further educate me about clams. They got some good laughs at my misguided mahogany clam boiling endeavors. Now equipped with a pro-style steamer and much more knowledge, I will soon be able to issue a clam-blog update.

Throughout the night, Blogoteer identities were questioned and two of the more popular queries were: "Who is Tom-a-Hawk?" and "Do you know Rubble?" The return of Tom-a-Hawk, who was in attendance last night, has added spice to the corps of Blogoteers. Early word is that the Altona supervisor is offering a reward for his identity!

And Rubble was rumored to be in the crowd, as well. The betting line suggests that Rubble is an alias for a Blogoteer working under another name. Rubble remains the biggest mystery at "On the Sly." I'm considering a reward for his identity!

Saratoga Court was well-represented: the Flynns perhaps outnumbered all families, and neighbor Floyd, wearing his new souvenir collectors item Coca-Cola jacket, was in attendance. Of course, the Mayor of Saratoga Court, Gary Lucas, made a stop, along with Saratoga Court's First Lady, Bonnie Lucas. Bonnie was seated with Kay, a charming lady with a beautiful smile. It was wonderful to meet her for the second time in my life.

I was happy to talk with Steve Lorry, who, back in the mid-Sixties, was one of Mount Assumption Institute's great athletes. He was a lefty and I usually swung and missed at his fastballs or curves. He and Al Beaubriand were the two toughest pitchers for this lefty batter.

By the time Goose arrived at 7:30pm, Meron's was packed elbow-to-elbow. He was pretty excited to be greeted by the Mayor himself, along with Old-Timer. You can bet that today Goose will be telling everyone within earshot about how much fun he had at the event.

I had a great time talking with Tom and Mary Sears, while we waited for County Treasurer Joe Giroux and his wife Carol to arrive. I guess Joe had to do some extra calculating what with that new county tax increase. But when he did arrive at 8:25pm, we had fun remembering our Our Lady of Victory Academy classmates from back in '66.

A night like this gives birth to many blog ideas, so it's a good thing I brought my notebook and pen. During the night, the name "Foxy Flynn" was born and that combo could lead to very richer lives for two lucky North Country residents. However, into the night the handwriting got a little shaky, not something that would have met the approval of Sister Genevieve or Sister Bernadette.

The night also gave birth to a few great ideas for my "Fox on the Run" television show. Perhaps the best would feature a two-on-two benefit basketball game. Let's get the best couples from around the North Country and have some hoop competitions. I'd put my money on a couple of PHS grads, Joey Cardany and Kristen Moore, who both rank among the school's leaders in scoring. What other basketball couples might be out there?

Another highlight of the night was a lively discussion between the Donald and a spokesman for the Town of Plattsburgh. As the conversation topics jumped from energy-saving light bulbs to Route 3 to sidewalk shoveling, the voices raised and the finger-pointing increased. Craig Mathews served as moderator. What a "Fox on the Run" show that would have made!

Much later into the evening Goose and I decided to call it a night. I was exhausted. It takes a lot of energy having so much fun and talking. We left Meron's with plans to call a cab for Saratoga Court. However, for some reason, two lovely ladies decided moments later to also leave. They had VIP parking right by the front door.

Goose and I, neither of us very shy at this point, asked the ladies if we might bum a ride to Saratoga Court, just a few blocks away. They smiled -- a good sign! -- and agreed. The highpoint of the night, however, occured when they stopped in front of my house. The vehicle doors were locked! And the beautiful driver couldn't unlock them. Or she didn't want to!

Here we were on a dark street, late at night, locked in a vehicle with two lovely ladies. Was it all a ploy on their part? I hopefully said, "Goose, our reputations precede us! We are trapped back here!"

"They probably heard about the Gagnon boys!" added Goose.

But just when Goose and I were basking in the sudden glory of being alone with these two beauties, the driver got out and opened the door from the outside. Darn!

The Carver has done it again! For the fifth time in a row he's managed to pack a place with dignitaries, friends, storytellers, and North Country what-have-yous and create a great funfest! The Blogoteers were happy to be a part of it.

My many pages of notes will be put to good use in the blogs ahead.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 7:07 AM | Permalink | Comments (12)

One of the first things I learned when I started my teaching career is that if you make a classroom rule, you should state the consequences of a violation, and, more importantly, enforce the consequences upon a violation.

When I would have student teachers, too often they would be inclinded to give another chance, give another chance, give another chance, until the rule meant nothing and the students carried on as if they had never heard of such a rule.

That's what I'm wondering about when it comes to the recent decision by the administration of Champlain Valley Physicians Hospital to initiate the program called "Clearing the Air." They have decided that CVPH should be a "tobacco-free facility."

Bravo! I support that decision wholeheartedly and I can guaranteed that you'll never catch me puffing on the hospital grounds. There are now banners at the entrances of CVPH announcing that CVPH is "Clearing the Air." Near one of the temporary main entrances of the hospital, where you enter for the emergency room and fast track, there are six bright yellow and red signs posted.

The signs state: "Tobacco-Free Facility for Employee's Health - No Smoking - Thank You for Your Cooperation." One thing is missing, however.

What is the consequence if someone violates this new policy? Is there a fine? Will they be escorted off the hospital grounds? Are they subject to a police summons? Is there a consequence if someone violates the new policy?

And people do violate the new policy! On Saturday morning at nine o'clock my brother and I exited CVPH and walked past two men who stood just outside the emergency room door, in between two of the six signs. Both men were smoking cigarettes. Both men were not doing their part in "clearing the air." As I passed by them, I coughed to make a point. I don't think they got it.

I turned back to check if I were seeing correctly. I was. It would have made quite a photo. These two guys smoking among six "No Smoking" signs. I think that CVPH might have to add a second sign under the first. A sign which states the consequences of smoking on CVPH grounds.

But there is now a second effect from the new CVPH policy, and that is, where do smokers go to smoke? Can they smoke in their own cars? Will CVPH establish a Puffer Police force which will cruise the parking lot constantly, searching for violaters? Even the CVPH employees are in a quandry. Have you noticed some hospital staff standing on Cornelia Street, just inches off the CVPH grounds and just inches away from the "Clearing the Air" signs, smoking during their lunch break?

I guess you can only clear the air so much. At a certain point, the air belongs to everyone, not just CVPH. It's a tough call for the administration of CVPH and for those who smoke and work there. There is no use having a rule if you can't enforce it.

Posted by Foxy Gagnon at 9:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)