It was a postcard brochure from Just For Men - Touch of Gray. Who in the blogosphere gave them my name? The other side of the postcard showed three guys in their forties wearing spandex shorts cavorting on the beach with three women who looked to be in their twenties. One girl was bikini clad and the other two wore tight revealing tops.

Gosh, those guys sure are lucky was not my first thought. My first thought remained - Who in the blogosphere gave them my name? "It's time to make some new memories" says the postcard.

When I opened the postcard the first words I saw were "Make this time the best time." The words were above a photo of the bikini clad blonde being hugged by one of those forty-year-old dudes. Another photo to the left showed the same happy couple giving me the peace sign.

Are they relics from those good old days, the Sixties? Is the guy a former burned out hippie who has found true happiness later in life? I wish I knew. They sure look happy. The words "It's time to get out there again" stared at me from the brochure.

At one time in my life -- late twenties, early-to-mid thirties - I had a full black beard. Not a touch of gray in it. But 'ere long I started finding gray whiskers on my chin. At first a pluck here and a pluck there did the trick. But I quickly realized that I was prematurely gray only on my chin. Trying to control it was a losing battle.

There I was at the age of forty -- an entirely gray chin and a black beard on the sides and a black moustache. It just never occured to me to get rid of the gray. People would have to take me as I am.

Now, approaching the age of sixty, I'm pretty much a graybeard. And, despite the promises of the postcard I received today, that's how I'm going to stay. Even though it takes just five minutes to change my world, I'm going to pass on Just for Men Touch of Gray.

Even though they gave me a coupon "Free - up to $9 - on any Just for Men Touch of Gray product," I'm going to pass. "Get your free touch of gray - and get out there!" Hey, I'm going to get out there whenever I want without their free offer.

Sure is tough for someone on a fixed income to pass up on a free offer. But what really bugs me is this company knows my name and address. What will I get next? A text message?

I just want to know who in the blogosphere gave them my name?

Along the way he met Lori Burnell -- intelligent, athletic, beautiful -- and they married. The Sames family has been living in Clifton Park, about 140 miles south of Plattsburgh. With three children and a busy life, Matt and Lori were living a happy life.

Since March 27, 2008, however, their lives have been turned upside down. On that day their four-year-old daughter Hannah was diagnosed with an extremely rare terminal genetic disease called Giant Axonal Neuropathy (GAN). It is one of the rarest diseases in the world. It is estimated that only 20-50 children in the world have GAN.

There is no treatment, no cure, and very little research, since GAN affects so few children. It is a degenerative disease that initially affects walking, but eventually leads to an early death, perhaps twenty years later.

Don't expect Matt and Lori to back down from a challenge, the greatest challenge they have ever faced. They have begun a campaign to save Hannah's life and the lives of other children with this disease. They have established Hannah's Hope, a foundation for donations to pay for research. They have contacted medical facilities and doctors around the world.

Finding a treatment and a cure for GAN will take millions of dollars more. But, as both Matt and Lori have said, "Someone has to be the first -- the first to be cured."

A website has been designed -- http://www.hannahshopefund.org -- and it is very informative. Included is a short video explaining the story of Hannah and the challenges the Sames family face.

After a visit to the website, I'm sure the Blogoteers will want to get on board and huddle up with Matt, Lori, and all their family and friends.

It's as if Matt is facing a third down and long situation -- and he's huddling up to come up with the right strategy. I've got a feeling he's going to throw a touchdown pass into the waiting arms of Hannah.

NOTES:

Matt, a 1986 graduate of Plattsburgh High School, is the son of Katie and the late Ray Sames. Matt is the nephew of Judy and the late Mike Mannix, as well as Peg and Marty Mannix.

Lori, a graduate of Beekmantown Central, is the daughter of Judy and Earl Burnell.

Matt and Lori have three children: Madison (9 years old), Reagan (6 1/2) and Hannah.

Mark your calendars -- two fundraisers for the Hannah's Hope Foundation are being organized -- July 20 at the Rainbow Room in Altona and September 15 at Mainely Lobster. See you there!

LATE ADDITION: Bill Watson, organizer of the Mayor's Fun Run and Ride on July 4 in Plattsburgh, will donate all proceeds from this event to the Hannah's Hope Fund. For more information on this event, check the website: http://www.NLrunners.com

Also, watch for a "Fox on the Run" interview on the local cable public-access channel, hopefully sometime in June.

Another tip on the list is to take a cooking class. With my luck it would be a male instructor and the class would be full of males looking for a place where singles mingle, and the only thing I'd get out of the class is another five pounds and a recipe for pickle relish.

Some cities have come up with some novel ideas for singles to meet. Like the "Date My Friend Party." That's where one of my friends, a female, invites a lot of her female friends over to her house to meet the single guy in the hopes that one of the forty female guests will hit it off with the guest of honor.

Not that I'm interested, but another novel idea is for a local grocery store to have an evening called "Singles Night." That's where singles mingle at the store for special cooking demonstrations, wine tasting and tips on how to select fresh veggies and fruit.

Not that I'm interested, but if I were looking for another single to mingle with, I really wouldn't know where to look in the North Country. Some people have said that I should join a church congregation. I don't think all the praying in the world would help my situation.

About two years ago I went to a church on Sunday, a church I had never attended before, and a few pews away I saw my girl friend from fourth grade. I don't think she recognized me. She still looked about the same, taller than I and skinny. I look a lot different from when I was in fourth grade.

The natural thing to do if I really wanted to meet someone would be to go to a local bar. You never know who might wander in. The last time I tried that I spent a lot of time talking with Frank and John and Ed and Skip and Bob and ... well, you get the idea. Not one Delilah in the place.

Not that I'm interested, but it seems that it has become mighty difficult for a guy my age to find a proper single female for mingling. For a few years now, I've been attending sports events, community events and even a few school events. For a few years now, I've been grocery shopping, mall shopping and Farmers Market shopping. I'm beginning to think that some of my single male friends out there might never find a single with which to mingle.

I've even been out on a Saturday night at Peabody's and the Green Room, dancing up a storm until past midnight. But all of the singles there are about one-third my age with three times the energy. It feels funny to be dancing up a storm when you're the oldest guy in the place. And the music's so loud that mingling is at a minimum.

I guess there's just no hope for some of my single male friends. Maybe they should just get involved with politics or coach a team or write a blog. Until the North Country comes up with a good place for singles to mingle.

Not that I'm interested.

There I was face-to-face with my seniors for the last day. Mr. Mulligan led the seniors in the song "For He's A Jolly Good Fellow" while I took it all in with a smile. In my 35 years of teaching that was a first!

I didn't have any idea of what I was getting myself into when I was invited to teach at CCRS in the absence of English teacher Kathryn Brown, who had been badly injured in a car accident. The last time I had taught seniors was during my student teaching days in 1970. The schedule called for me to teach three senior English classes, including the Advanced Placement English Literature course, and two classes of seventh grade English.

I figured I could handle the seventh graders. Thirty-five years at Stafford Middle School was enough experience for that job. But those seniors! What would they be like? The first day, during my opening remarks in front of class, I noticed most of them were giving me the hairy eyeball. Who is this old guy with a ponytail? I kept hearing a "tick, tick, tick" while I tried to explain just who Foxy Gagnon is.

Then a little bell rang, and I noticed a small apple timer near my podium. Someone had set three of Mrs. Brown's apple timers - - a little welcoming initiation into Chazy Central. The seniors got a good laugh out of it and I took it with a grin, rather than firing the apples across the room.

One day I quietly strolled into the cafeteria, only to be greeted by a group of seniors who started cheering "Foxy, Foxy, Foxy!" And the next day seventh grader Brianna wrote on the board "Foxy Rules!" And then senior Jesse brought me a Medieval Times moist towelette for my collection, and Marie showed me a picture from her spring-break vacation: Foxy Wrapped Lettuce! I knew things were going okay.

While we wrapped up the unit on The Red Badge of Courage and took on other tasks and the book Nothing But the Truth, I started having fun with the seniors. They found out more about me, and my favorite certain someone, and some of them shared bits and pieces of their lives as well.

The AP course was full of serious work like poetry and essays. But I ruined that one day when my cellphone rang during class. As I headed for the door as I answered it, my friend on the other end kiddingly yelled, "Heyyyyyy, Baby!!!!!" I made it to the hallway amidst laughter and returned a minute later stating, "It was a wrong number." I know they didn't buy that story!

All the seniors at Chazy have a traditional senior project. The amount of work and committment to complete this project is almost overwhelming. But this is one school where seniors truly do earn their graduation diploma. No easy-street senior year at Chazy.

Even the seventh graders got into the act, with ten of them joining me for lunch most days. There's nothing quite like seventh grade conversation and it was a throwback to my good old days at SMS.

I could not have survived the six weeks without a great deal of help and advice from Steve Patnode, the dedicated librarian, who became my lifeline with the seniors. And my English department colleagues, Shari Fall and Erena Fulton, always managed to point me in the right direction and kept the paperwork flowing.

I have so much admiration for Kathryn Brown, who returns to her job this week. Even though she wasn't in school I know she was working every day, correcting papers, overseeing senior projects and formulating lesson plans. The AP course students even managed two conference calls with her from the CCRS Board Room. The students love her and will be very happy to have her back in the classroom.

No other North Country school has the Chazy tradition of walking to an assembly, each homeroom student single file and silent, led by a student carrying an American flag. First the senior class and then the other classes, in order. All remain silent as they arrive at the auditorium, waiting for the announcement for the pledge to the flag. It is an amazing tradition, begun when they are in kindergarten and carried on through their senior year.

In six weeks I found myself a second home at Chazy Central. The students, no matter the grade, and the faculty and staff were friendly and gave me a chance to just be myself. It might sound funny to say I'll miss them all, when I can now return to my quiet life of retirement, videotaping and eBay, but I really will miss many things about Chazy Central.

Among them:
Chad and Sara in the front row, keeping me organized

Franc's high-five in the hallway

Victoria's smile each day -- that Gaelan is one lucky dude!

Brandy's smile everyday 7th period while she sat with Chad at the computer in the library -- For some reason, Chad was always smiling too, as he'd yell, "Mr. Foxyyyyyyyyy!"

Secretary Nancy Vesco's smile for me each day as I signed in

The four guys at "the funniest table" in 12-1

The guys at the same table in 12-2 who learned my "Zzzzzzzzz" and "Gung" sounds and will probably toss them my way the next time they see me

The kidding I took from 12-2 because I have a "younger-than-I" eBay secretary

Talking about the Montreal Canadiens hockey playoffs with Kyle and the boys -- there are a lot of hockey fans at CCRS. Some of these guys probably eat hockey pucks for breakfast

As I left on Friday, my first goodbye hug was from seventh grader Victoria. My first senior class hug was from Andrea. I even left a few things behind, like an autographed business card and moist towelette for Nick.

And Nolan, the soccer guy, and I are now business partners on eBay. And Jay the Artist is my business partner, too, working on my new North Country Cable Network brochures.

Like any high school, Chazy is full of athletes and musicians and artists and nice people in general. But the friendliness of everyone stands out. Maybe it's because they all attend the same school from the first day of kindergarten until the final day of their senior year. The seventh graders look up to the seniors. Maybe it's because they are all a part of such a successful community.

As I headed out the door for the final time, I met senior Eric Martin. We shook hands. I remarked how friendly everyone was during my stay. He looked me in the eye and said, "That's a Chazy tradition!"

Thanks, Chazy Central!

I started cursing the fact that Plattsburgh once had a Red Lobster (and I was a frequent customer!) and we lost it. I wish we could get a franchise back. I know we have a great local seafood restaurant on the Military Turnpike, Mainely Lobster. I've been there many times. But there are just not the myriad choices offered by a Red Lobster.

Just like Olive Garden. I went to Burlington's Olive Garden not too long ago, and it has been on my mind since. That salad! That dressing! Endless salad. It may be my downfall if we ever get an Olive Garden. I've heard rumors that we will have an Olive Garden in Plattsburgh soon. I'll be there on opening night. Anyone want to accompany me?

I've always enjoyed lunch time. To me, no matter what the season, lunch time means soup. What's lunch without soup? My all-time favorite is grilled cheese sandwich (white bread only, please, with three slices of cheese) and tomato soup. Toss a big pile of dill pickle slices on the side and I'm a happy man.

With barbeque season just around the corner I have been thinking of a nice sirloin steak on the grill. But with it I need potato salad. There are about twenty kinds of potato salad, but my favorite is simply potatoes, bits of onion and plenty of Hellman's Real Mayonnaise.

And while I'm on the food kick, do you ever watch those television food shows? There are at least twenty cooking shows, but my favorite chef, hands down, is Rachael Ray. I'd watch her make a peanut butter sandwich. She does her 30-minute meals and my own Hamburger Surprise recipe fits that plan. I'm sending her my recipe in hopes I'll score an appearance on her show.

I know I'm the last one who should be pointing out someone else's enlarging girth, but have you seen the famed chef Emeril Lagasse lately? Check out his television shows from his early TV days and you'll notice this guy is wearing much larger-sized chef's garb. His white-clad frame is filling the frame, so to speak. All those "bam"s are catching up to him.

I'd write more but I've worked myself into a hunger frenzy. Let's see ... plenty of leftovers in the fridge. I just can't wait any longer.

It was quite an honor to be invited, since the teachers had won the championship the summer before. I had to pass, though, that first summer, because I was serving my military commitment at Fort Dix, New Jersey. Somehow the team still did very well without me in the summer of '71.

When the summer of '72 rolled around I made my debut with the teachers' team. Baseball had been my strong suit in high school, so I figured hitting that big fat softball would be a piece of cake. How wrong I was. A baseball swing in a softball game will get you nothing but fly balls to the outfied. In softball, if you don't have the power to put it over the fence, you need to hit line drives. That took quite an adjustment.

But even though I only hit about .200 my first season, I had a ball. I also watched some of the top softball players in the North Country, guys who could hit a line drive up the middle with their eyes closed. My teammates Ray Lalonde and John "Nick" Nicotera were two of the best. They could look one way and hit it the other way. If the defense shifted one way, they just waited and poked a line drive to the opposite field.

Our veteran pitchers in those days, as I recall, were Sal Righi and Mike Haley. Mal Cutaiar, another guy who could hit a softball, was an infielder, and Paul Dingman, former ace of the Plattsburgh State Cardinals baseball pitching staff, was Mr. Versatility, playing wherever he was needed.

Jack Baroody was a first baseman. He loved to mess with the opposition's heads. When his turn at bat came, he would stand just outside the righthand hitter's batter's box. When the pitcher would be ready to pitch, he would stroll to the left side, his natural side, so that the defense would have to hurriedly shift the other way.

Year-by-year, as all of us boys got older, it was tougher to compete against the 20-year-olds. The Teachers team folded and I moved on to play with several of my former high school mates on teams like Condo's and Homer Mayflower Moving. By the time I was in my thirties, I'd learned the softball swing and in some games could drive three or four hits up the middle.

Softball never stopped being fun, mainly because it was a throwback to the time when we were little kids. I had a lot of laughs playing softball with my colleagues on the Teacher's team, and later with guys like Mike Brodi, Johnny Mooney, Gerald Burdo, Mark St. Dennis, Mike Dodds, Kenny Leavine, and so many others.

Eventually the Gentleman's Softball League came to an end, and all the games headed west to the American Legion Field in West Plattsburgh. It's still a mecca for North Country softball. But make no mistake about it. If anyone of us old jocks gather to wash down some suds and talk sports, there are some great stories to tell of our days playing softball.

At the age of seven I started collecting baseball cards. That's a hobby that never stopped. I still can't resist buying the latest Topps baseball card packs and seeing who's inside. Of course, the price sure has changed. From a penny or a nickel when I was a kid to the current $2.99 for a Topps regular pack of baseball cards.

I also began an autograph collection at the age of 12. I would write to baseball players each weekend, asking for an autographed picture. That's another collection that I continued into adulthood, and, now that I'm almost sixty years old, I have a very valuable autograph collection of such great players as Jackie Robinson, Mickey Mantle, Ted Williams, Pee Wee Reese, Gil Hodges, Roger Maris and, of course, our local hero, Johnny Podres.

As I kid I also collected comic books for awhile, but never built a very big collection. I also went through a year of collecting stamps. I used to buy stamps from those comic book ads offering "100 cancelled stamps for 99 cents!"

But I think every kid needs a hobby. Some easy inexpensive hobby where you can save things in an album and show them to your friends. Some hobby where you can make your collection bigger by finding new items. I think baseball cards may have priced themselves out of the hobby by becoming too expensive.

Back in the 1940s and 1950s some people collected matchbook covers. Sounds funny but books of matches were all over the place, used for advertising businesses and political candidates. On my display shelf in my den are books of matches from Eddie Lapham's Sunrise Lounge, the Brothers Five Tavern, the D&H Restaurant, and Pat Russo's Dugout in Glens Falls. I also have "Re-Elect Your County Clerk, Halsey J. Stark" and "Bob Garrow for State Assembly" matchbooks. Try finding one of those today!

I also recall collecting bottle caps. I remember scouring the city beach sand, searching for bottle caps of new kinds of soda or beer. With all those Canadian visitors to the beach, it was a goldmine for bottle cap collectors. Dow, O'Keefe, Labatts, Brador, Molson, you name it! And those old-time sodas like Nehi, Snow White, Tab and Fresca.

I've come up with a new idea for an easy inexpensive collectible item. This might be something you might help your grandchild collect. I'm talking about moist towelettes. You know, those little packages that many restaurants give you to wipe your fingers after your meal. They come in all shapes and sizes and designs. Some have flags on them, some have dragons, some have flowers. Most are square, but some are rectangular with the restaurant's name on it, like Bar-B-Barn in Montreal or Medieval Times in Myrtle Beach.

I think everyone should have a hobby of collecting something. You can set goals for yourself, like a moist towelette from every state. Imagine the happiness on your grandchild's face when the waitress plops a moist towelette on the table with a never-before-seen design. You could collect them all year and give your grandchild a stack of 50 moist towelettes as a birthday gift! You could trade them with your friends. The possibilities are endless! Start your collection today!

Too many finely-tuned athletes are getting injured. These guys play under the finest playing conditions. Money is no object when it comes to grooming fields. They go through spring training, supposedly to get back in shape after a winter of sitting around. Each team has an expert trainer and assistant, all graduates of notable colleges around the country. Some teams have conditioning coaches, strength coordinators and aerobic instructors.

Yet, here we have players like Derek Jeter and Alex Rodriquez pulling muscles with strange names. We have the National League's 2007 Most Valuable Player, Jimmy Rollins, not an ounce of fat on him, on the disabled list with an ankle injury. Alfonso Soriano, who looks like he'd have trouble lifting his suitcase, is on the disabled list with a calf strain. Razzle-dazzle pitcher Dontrelle Willis has a hyperextended right knee. Pedro Martinez is out with a hamstring strain. And the list goes on.

I'll tell you what. A week ago I think I pulled something in my back as I was hurrying down the hallway to the cafeteria. I finished the day, and I'm showing up for work tomorrow. I'll just walk a little slower when it's time for lunch.

Hey, Mickey Mantle could have spent his whole career on the disabled list. Instead, he taped up those swollen knees and hobbled out to center field and ran after fly balls even though his legs were killing him. Players in those days played because if they put up good enough numbers then they might get a raise and not have to work during the off-season. If the numbers were down or even the same, they were in line for a pay cut.

Ever hear of a player today getting a pay cut?

Back in the old days, players would spend the winter going to banquets giving speeches so that they could supplement their income. They'd do the old rubber-chicken circuit and gain ten or twenty pounds during the off-season. Not any more.

Maybe all we need for spring training is two weeks. That should be enough time to decide who's going to make the team. High school coaches make cuts after just a few practices, so professional baseball people ought to be able to size up their personnel in two weeks.

In closing, I'll mention one other idea that all the baseball announcers are shying away from. In an effort to keep the steroids issue in the past, I think maybe Commissioner Selig has cautioned the media about bringing this up. But I've noticed quite a decrease in the offensive output of some of baseball's biggest (take that word as you see fit) sluggers.

You can check for your favorite players, but Jason Giambi of the New York Yankees has five hits in fourteen games! He's hitting .116. David Ortiz of the Boston Red Sox is hitting .141 with 2 home runs in 71 at bats! Ryan Howard of the Philadelphia Phillies hit 105 home runs and drove in 285 runs over the last two seasons. This year he is hitting around .180 and, at his current pace, will drive in 72 runs in 2008.

Look at the guys who are leading the leagues. They are players who are in no way all bulked up with protein or other supplements. Chase Utley is hitting near .350, Chipper Jones and Rafael Furcal are batting over .400. The American League batting leaders are Luke Scott, Carlos Guillen and Chone Figgins. Maybe it's the era of the little guy!

Okay, I've taken my swings! Did I hit a home run or go down swinging?

When Pope John Paul II visited the United States, he spent time in Washington, D. C. and New York City, as well. So did Pope Paul VI back in the Sixties. I'm just a little worried that our holy popes might be stuck in a rut. After all, there is a lot more to our country than the White House, the United Nations and Yankee Stadium.

Pope Benedict is the sixth pope in my lifetime. When I was born, the pope was Pope Pius XII. From 1958-1963 it was Pope John XXIII. During my high school and college years our pope was Pope Paul VI. Then, you might recall, we had the short time of Pope John Paul I, who was elected and died in 1978. Pope John Paul II served from 1978-2005, and now Pope Benedict XVI has been our pope since 2005.

We have beautiful old churches like St. Peter's Church, St. John's Church and Our Lady of Victory Church. We have modern churches, named after all the important saints. We have Roman Catholic priests who can sing up a storm. Back in my elementary school days, the priests of our diocese used to gather at O.L.V.A. once a month for a retreat. I'd hear them singing in the little school chapel. It sounded like music from heaven.

Our Honorable Mayor Kasprzak, a Catholic school graduate, could lead the pope on a tour of our historic city, pointing out City Hall and the Macdonough Monument and the Kent-Delord House, and then travel north to the Georgia-Pacific Plant. While in that area, the pope might enjoy a stop at McDonald's for a real American meal, a big Mac and fries.

The mayor and holy entourage could then circle south to the site of the former Plattsburgh Air Force Base. The beautiful Air Base Chapel still stands on the site where many an officer and local girl were married after meeting at Brodi's.

The pope might enjoy a stop at our Crete Brothers Fitness Center, where he could help the mayor continue to celebrate Plattsburgh Start! Walking Day. He could walk along the oval track for miles and go nowhere.

The mayor might even want to bring the pope down nearby Johnson Avenue and point out the home where Foxy Gagnon grew up. After all, Foxy's story of growing up in a Catholic home, saying the rosary each night during Lent and having an altar in his bedroom is the stuff that popes are made of.

All along the route we could have our military veterans standing in honor with flags galore. North Country veterans, dedicated soldiers from all wars, are among the finest in the country and they deserve a papal blessing for their good deeds, and an automatic ticket to heaven.

I think our Holy Fathers are missing the boat by visiting only Washington, D.C. and New York City during the visits to the United States. A city like Plattsburgh offers so much more. He could still give his speeches -- we do have large venues such as the Plattsburgh State Field House and Hawkins Hall. And he could still say his Masses, and be assisted by some of the finest North Country priests.

Heck, Pope Benedict XVI is even going to Yankee Stadium on Sunday. He might be mighty upset when he finds out that the Yankees are playing in Baltimore that day. You might hear him say a papal word or two when he gets that news.

The only Pope I've ever seen in Plattsburgh is Nick Pope. I think it's time to change the Pope's itinerary before it's too late. Let's get him to Plattsburgh so he can see what the good old USA is really like.

The first annual "Race for Stace" 5K Walk/Run will take place at the U.S. Oval on April 26 in memory of Stacey Frechette, who died last year in a car accident. Just 24 years old, Stacey was a teacher at Mooers Elementary School. The Stacey Lynn Frechette Scholarship Fund awards $1500 to a deserving local high school senior and gymnast. Stacey had been a standout gymnast at Seton Catholic Central, where she won six Section VII and Champlain Valley Athletic Conference titles. She later competed in gymnastics at SUNY-Brockport.

Stacey's longtime friend, Jen Boyer, is the organizer of the 5K Walk/Run. If you can make the event and take a walk in Stacey's memory, that would be great. I'll see you there.

On May 2 it's the 15th annual Clinton County Senior Celebration. This year's event will take place at the center at 5139 North Catherine Street in Plattsburgh. Fun entertainment and great food highlight the day. Among the performers will be the YMCA Line Dancers, the legendary RSVP Kitchen Band and, later in the day, the rock and roll and classic country music of the Castaways. Doors open at 8:30am and the fun continues till the final song at 4pm.

On Saturday, May 4, the North Country Ballet Ensemble will present "A Delicate Balance" at the Hartman Theatre on the campus of Plattsburgh State. Working with the NCBE last fall with "The Nutcracker" performance was an enjoyable experience, and the organization has invited me back to videotape the May performance.

North Country Cable has been covering this event for years, back to the old days when it was held at the Skyway Shopping Center. There are several food vendors to keep me happy during our camera breaks and, during the years, some fun games, such as the Muffler Rap Contest and the Valve Cover Races.

On June 13 I'll be at the American Cancer Society's Relay for Life at the Clinton County Fairgrounds from 7 at night until 7 in the morning -- from Friday night into Saturday morning! What a great event this is! Touching moments, tears, laughter, music, friends, games, and, of course, great food.

Teams of friends, families, businesses join together to celebrate cancer survivors and to remember those who have passed away. The first lap by the hundreds of cancer survivors always touches my heart. I see so many friends and acquaintances walk past my camcorder.

Then, later in the evening, the Luminaria Ceremony is held. Thousands of candles are lit in memory of loved ones and they line the walking track. It's not too late for you and your friends to get involved.

Then, everyone wants to know about the Stowaways Reunion 2008. The latest word is that the weekend has been changed to August 1 - 2 - 3. There have been several complications to work out, but it looks like a go for that weekend, with the Stowaways Concert on Saturday night, August 2. More details will follow, but this a definite weekend to mark the calendar.

I'll be having a busy day that Saturday, because it's the same day as our annual coverage of Whitey and Flo's Campout, the historic country music event on the Cold Brook Road in Riverview. And last year we made an agreement to also cover Square Dashnaw's Steak Bake around the corner in Standish. I was totally impressed last year when I attended this event for the first time. I'll be loading up on the steamed clams at Square's.

Isn't the North Country amazing? What a wide range of events to look forward to. And I'm sure I haven't even mentioned several other events that the Blogoteers enjoy. Let's hope for warm weather the rest of the way.

This day my toes would be free, I thought. For me, a sign of the changing of the seasons. A rite of passage ... into the short spring and wonderful summers of the North Country. All day yesterday there was an extra spring in my walk. I smiled at strangers and waved to friends, and even to those who might someday be friends.

It felt good. In fact, it was the best I had felt in months. Maybe it's been the winter doldrums that got me down. Maybe it was the three-times-around battle with the flu bug, or bronchitis bug, or whatever bug. Maybe it was cabin fever.

No matter. Yesterday I felt young again. Yesterday I felt like working. Accomplishing. And socializing. I think it was all in the sandals. Sandals have a way of giving you a whole new attitude. And by the end of the day the temperature was in the 60s.

So that's why at the end of the day I visited a favorite pub for the first time in months. Even at four in the afternoon there was still a spring in the old Fox's step. Still a smile on my face. Even though my summer ponytail was a bit bedraggled.

It was a pleasure rubbing elbows with Sal and Gail, and Pete, and Ross, and, of course, the wonderful Grace. But the highlight was meeting John -- but I should call him "The Johnald." Based in Glens Falls, New York, he's the head of the Southern Theatre of Operations for the Blogoteers.

And he adds, "the quietest, most attractive and smartest" of his clan. I'm sure his brother "The Donald" would debate that one, and it sure sounds like that meeting of the minds would make a great "Fox on the Run" television show. Our ratings would soar!

I sure had a good time yesterday. It just goes to show you that winter does end and flu bugs do die. I've got my summer game face on now, everybody. But I think it's all in the sandals.

Our dads told us that Pete Blumette had been a professional baseball pitcher and that he was a really nice guy. Whenever he visited our playground he would gather all of us kids together and talk with us. I remember he spoke in a soft kind voice and he treated us really nice.

Indeed, Pete "Lefty" Blumette pitched in the Eastern League and the International League, one step below the major leagues, prior to World War II. In the late 1940's he pitched in the minor leagues for teams in Canada. Listed as 6'2" and 220 pounds, the southpaw Blumette had some great seasons in the minor leagues and played alongside and against many future major leaguers.

And, Sal Righi, was a school teacher by trade, who would leave school at the end of the day, take off his tie and put on his blue jeans, and work just about full-time for the City Recreation Department. Sal can tell you many stories about his days working for the city, and he saw many changes during his working days.

In the winter, we had the basketball programs. A bunch of us neighborhood guys played at Monty Street School. The Seymour brothers, Bob and Dwayne, better known as Fud, were the basketball coaches. They had been athletes at OLVA, so that meant they were heroes to me as I grew up.

The younger boys would play from maybe 7pm till 8pm and then the older guys would arrive for their hour of basketball. We were called the juniors and the older guys were the seniors.

This is when I was about nine, ten, eleven years old, and, at the end of the basketball season, we would play the boys from the other part of town, who played at Bailey Avenue School. We would play a best four out of seven series for the "city championship."

Recently I found a few clippings from those days. During those winters the Monty Street juniors team consisted of Ronnie McGee, Bruce Stevens, Ray Gagnon, Gary Leavine, Greg Primard, Gary LaPier, Jimmy Wells, John Burdo, David Burdo, Bobby Gertsch, Phil Dubuque, Rod Dame, Randy Dame, Jack Brown, Dorn Fenner and others. The Bailey juniors stars were Steve Kaufmann, Gary LaRocque, Pete Hayden and Karl Tobrocke.

In another winter, when I was one of the older juniors, I had a big game in the intercity rivalry. Monty defeated Bailey 54-44 and I scored 17 points. Jim Wells, another lefty, added 11, Phil Dubuque had 8 and Bobby Gertsch 7. Also on the team that winter was youngster Joe Staves, who was probably eight years old.

Bailey Avenue that night was led by Jeff Gibeau, who was unstoppable, and tallied 28. Mike O'Connell scored 8 and the Forkey brothers, Jerry and Terry, combined for eight.

The City Recreation Department also had an arts and crafts program, run by Mrs. Repas. A lot of girls went to that program during the summer days and came home with pot holders and popsicle stick creations. I know some boys who went to that program to flirt with the girls and to try to get Mrs. Repas mad.

And, of course, we always had the place in the winter that to most of us was even better than Whiteface Mountain or Mount Van Hoevenberg, Fox Hill for sliding! The City Recreation Department kept us busy year round.

We sure were spoiled growing up in Plattsburgh. Maybe that's why so many of us have stuck around all these years.

When I hurriedly wrote my April 1st blog this morning before heading off to school, I had no idea that I would get so much enjoyment at the end of the day. Once again, the Blogoteers rose to the occasion.

My April Fool's Day joke didn't fool everyone, but it caught many readers off guard. No one jumped off a bridge or jumped in front of an Amtrak, but many Blogoteers wished me well or came up with alternatives so that the On the Sly blog might somehow stay alive.

My April Fool's Day hoax did lead to some heartfelt comments and even a few identity confessions. But how could I ever stop writing this blog after reading such wonderful comments by my band of Blogoteers? I had no idea how many people consider me part of their day. I had no idea that even after 300 blogs the blogosphere wants more!

When I returned to my home after a day on the job, I sat at my computer and found messages from 7:36am and throughout the day. More comments in an eight-hour time span than I had ever received. The messages were from Saratoga and Albany and Florida, from Saratoga Court to Rugar Street to Cumberland Head. From mid-town to the mid-West. Even one from England!

I grinned and chuckled and then guffawed. The more comments I read, the more I laughed. Thank you to all for such a fun April Fool's Day.

I was going to keep my hoax going for a few more days, in hopes my bosses on the editorial staff might be coerced into upping the ante to keep me writing On the Sly. But I felt that by the end of the day, the truth should be told.

With this blog, I've started on my next 300. I hope you'll stay with me for the trip.

Since then I've written about my life, my family's life and given my opinions on topics ranging from food to dating. I've been joined by a group of very interesting contributors, the Blogoteers. Some Blogoteers knew me before On the Sly, and some didn't. The Blogoteers range in age from teens to their eighties, and they come in all shapes and sizes. They are from all parts of the United States and some are even from Canada. One that I know of resides in England. I'm grateful for their help over the past 299 blogs, and I'm hoping they'll add some input one last time.

You see, I've decided that #300 will be the final edition of On the Sly. There are several reasons for this decision. It's not always easy to come up with topics, that is for sure. Sometimes I have sat in front of my computer and stared at my screen for hours, trying to come up with something that might be entertaining or insightful.

I've noticed I've started to repeat myself, having said the same thing in Blog #87 or Blog #165. Maybe, plain and simple, I've run out of topics. I'm also very busy, videotaping local events, entertaining friends who like to visit, and, lately, I've come out of retirement and returned to teaching.

The blog has brought me a bit of notoriety. No matter where I go, someone that I have never met will tell me, "I enjoy your blog." I guess there are hundreds out there who read On the Sly, but never contribute.

Maybe one of my Blogoteers will take up the slack, and jump at the chance to fill my little shoes (I only wear size 8). I can think of several who would definitely liven things up on this Press-Repubican website.

I haven't forewarned my bosses of this decision. I felt it was better for them to read the news this way. After all, this is a newspaper site. So, today, Blog #300 is Foxy's last. Thanks to all who participated in this little venture. It's been fun. Maybe we can still have a Blogoteers reunion in July or December. Maybe we can still make those On the Sly tee-shirts. They will become collectors items.

And, anyway, it's the baseball season, and I've just signed up for the Extra Innings package. Who has time for blogs when I'm staying up all night watching my Dodgers in LA?

But there are two other major league stadiums that I've enjoyed. In 1991 I took my son Erik to Shea Stadium. He had officially become a New York Mets fan in 1986 at the age of eight, when the exciting Mets stole the World Series from the Boston Red Sox. Or, maybe the Red Sox gave that one away.

Nevertheless, a friend worked in the front office for the Mets that season and he offered some complimentary tickets. I was also lucky enough to be issued a media pass so that I could be on the field prior to the game. I had an opportunity to take some great souvenir photos while on the field, and briefly chatted with Mets' star second baseman Gregg Jefferies.

We were given excellent seats on the first base side and enjoyed the Mets victory that day. Erik broke into his piggy bank and bought some Mets memorabilia. Shea was a fun place to watch a game, especially when a Met homers and the Big Apple rises out of the Mets top hat in center field.

As much as I loved Jarry Park during the Expos' early years, my all-time favorite stadium would, of course, be Dodger Stadium. I have visited Los Angeles twice: 1998 and 2000. Each time I took in two games at Dodger Stadium, and with Foxy Gagnon in attendance, my team has four wins and no losses.

Joe Torre, take note! If a big game comes along this season, one that you need to win, give me a call, send me your private plane, and I'm there! Hopefully in my lifetime I will return to this site. Watching a game at Dodger Stadium is the closest I'll ever get to heaven. The palm trees over the outfield wall and the hills behind them are a view that no other big league stadium offers.

And then there's the Dodger Dogs, the finest hot dog baseball offers. And the Krispy Kreme doughnut stand. And the LA Dodgers souvenirs. I bought so many souvenirs that I had to ship three boxes home to Plattsburgh before we left California.

I'm ready for the 2008 baseball season. I think it'll be a good one for my Dodgers. Every baseball fan in New York should make an effort to get to one final game at Shea and at Yankee Stadium, as baseball history marches on.