Hope on the Horizon

As the brain fog begins to clear, I feel as though I have "just returned from the desert on a horse with no name!"  Scary, but my system seems to be getting better at handling the drugs, don't know how "Crazy Bruce" managed to vaguely function or even exist.  Should I mention "telephone poles" are following me, spare me the embarrassment, just lock me up.  Poking fun at the deceased (Crazy Bruce), is sick and rude, yet our memory of his drug induced behaviors shall be conversation fodder for years to come.  He holds a spot in the history, albeit dark history of Sprague's wayward citizens.  This group is a potpourri of looney tune nice people, to rude and nasty personalitites.  For those of you born and raised in the area, "Sweet Corn", looney but lovable, to Cowboy Man, former owner of the graceful victorian, located just outside the Village limits on Route 27.  Youngster often called this place the haunted house, although in such disrepair, it's once proud architecture, still a reminder of it's faded beauty.  I did have the opportunity to look inside the home after it's occupants had vacated the place, hints of it's former graceful and elegant beauty remained intact, perhaps a healing hand would someday restore the old place.

Sprague does have some wonderful old mansions, most that remain, are reminders of the glory days of the thriving Town, it's three villages, once textile hubs, employing the majority of the villages' citizens.   The home of William Sprague, the Town's namesake, sitting atop the hill, overlooking the former Baltic Mill site, now owned by the Holte family,an absolutely beautiful and stately place.  Continuing along Route 97, following the signs to the much smaller village of Hanover, there are a few wonderful old mansions, overlooking this picturesque village, their sweeping lawns and elegant lanscaping once the site of elite social gatherings.  Surely a summer party, complete with lawn croquet and fine foods, guests milling about in this quaint village, must of been a wonderful event.

Arriving back to reality here, I realize although I am feeling better, I still have at least ten days worth of those 3000mg, pretty colored horse pill, that my system needs.  Even then there is no guarantee this H.Pylori little bastard bacteria will be purged from my system.  A call from the Doctor's office informs me; three months you must endure yet another test to validate their vacating of my system.  Flashes of another endoscopy and colonoscopy consume my brain, but then as I am jolted back to the high pitched voice on phone, "Mrs. Hastings, the test is quite simple.  We will schedule you for a breath taste in July, that should confirm whether or not you are still hosting those bad boys!"  Breathe, that's all I have to do?  What's with that, how come all the hoopla the first time around?  Doc and I need to have a heart-to-heart conversation! 

The Vegetative Mind!

As I emerge from my morning vegetative state, the brain fog is slowly burning off, I realize this antibiotic treatment for the next twelve days, is probably NOT going to get any better.  On a positive note, the evening treatment doesn't seem to effect me quite as terribly. So, as I arose this morning already feeling like crap, I realized that by consuming another 1500mg of antibiotics sure as shit wasn't going to make my day any better.  As soon as I swallowed the horse pills, following Doctor's orders, I ate a bowl of cereal.  Not being a person who consumes food in the early morning, it was a challenge.  Cereal  was just about all I cared to or could consume.  Mr. Bill checking in on me, as he had been working since 6:30 am, was quite concerned he found me laying in a fetal position on the couch.  I wasn't asleep, just vegetating.  No highs, no lows just laying there as if I was suspended in time.  Kind of like watching something in slow motion and much like an outer body experience, I really didn't give a shit or at least I don't think I did.  With the brain fog, it was awfully hard to pin point the thought.  Maybe there wasn't even one, who the hell knows.

I arrived home last night or should I say early this morning at around 2:00am.  Tired but not really sleepy, I forced myself to go to bed.  Mr. Bill up at 6:00, I stayed in bed until 7:00, then began the first leg of this daily cleansing.  From that point on until about and hour ago, I existed in suspended animation.  Mr. Bill visiting a number of times or at I think he did, someone looked in the front door to see if I was still breathing, looked like Mr. Bill.  Jesus, I hope so.  If not, I sure as shit must of scared the neighbor.  Jokingly, I used to say, "if there was ever a fire in the house, let me burn, I do not want anyone to see the results of sleep!"  Actually today, I really didn't give a damn, or if I did I don't remember.  Good thing I wasn't into drugs in my younger  years, I probably wouldn't be here writing this blog.  I just don't tolerate drugs very well.  My Doctor called this morning just to see if I was sticking to the planned regimen and "how do we feel, today?"  That's bullshit, I know how I feel, she should feel G-damn good, she's not the one taking the drugs, and oh yes, she getting paid!  Probably charge me for the phone call.  On the other hand, with these drugs in my system, who gives a crap.  Again, on the the few and far between positive notes, the discomfort in my stomach, that had been radiating around the back to my spine, has subsided.  I feel as though I can eat ANYTHING but when I look at food, nix that thought.

In just a little over an hour I will leave for work, this week I am the closer.  The good Lord must have known, that my functionality would be limited, "let her drive when there is no traffic, just the wide expanse of I-4, where the gorgeous sky meets the road and the brilliant stars light the way!  

DON'T DRINK THE WATER!

Sometimes I try to think of instances that will shock my brain into coughing up memories that are noteworthy.  Talking with Bill, not making him aware of my real intentions, may sometimes have positive results.  There again I need his undivided attention, we need to be on the same page.  Depending on the moment, Billy Boy needs to be "in the moment" otherwise it can be very frustrating.  Much like the selective hearing process, you have to know your audience, in this case the Egg-Nazi.  Channel surfing, re-hashing his golf game, watching his favorite sport's moments,  is not the time to pick his brain.  This is when you tell him things you really don't want him to remember:  how much money was spent shopping, a scratch on the car, things along that line.  So, when I say "Billy, pay attention, he'd better!" 

Today, after a trip to my Doctor, was just such a day.  Returning home before he did, I knew he'd love to relay the news of the community, so I let him.  Eventually he'd get around to, "So how did you make out at the Doctor?"  I really can't blame him, all the stomach issues I have been enduring, all the testing I have been going through have revealed little more than, probably a reaction to your blood pressure medicine...so they change it.  Last week I endured a colonoscopy and endoscopy all on the same day.  Other than an irritation in the lining of my stomach, it revealed nothing.  That's good but it is also very bad, because every few days, my innards feel like crap.  Today the reason emerged....a funky bacteria, diagnosed through a biopsy taken last week.  It is in my stomach, hence the irritation.  Also revealed, chronic gastritis and chronic inflammation of the intestines, probably caused by the bacteria.  Once we rid my body of the "enemy" hopefully the chronic irritations, will be few and far between.  My question to the Doctor:  "How did I get it?"  Pretty straight forward question, answer not so simple.  Food perhaps.   Did I arrive in Florida with it? Maybe, maybe not!  Water the most likely culprit.  I cringed as she spoke those words.  How I longed for the great tasting, crystal clear, refreshing waters of Fred's News.  I no longer drink coffee, yet I adored the coffee of the former Fred's News.  Oh, the ice tea........thirst quenching and so refreshing, on the hottest summer day!  Even the ice cubes made every drink, the best.  If you crave water, she informed me, drink bottle water.  "You don't drink tap water, do you?", she questioned.  "You shouldn't, even though it is treated.  This is a hot climate, you can never be sure"  GREAT! DON'T DRINK THE WATER, I am never going to watch that TV program "The Monsters Inside of Me" AGAIN!  Tomorrow I have to start a regimen of antibiotics for two weeks.  Dear God, that is fourteen days, if I feel like crap now, I can only imagime what the gut will feel like in FOURTEEN DAYS.  3000mg of antibiotics and 60mg of something to coat my stomach, daily, while putting myself through this crap. NICE!  Mr. Bill's eyes were opened so wide, saying nothing, he just stared at me.  After what seemed an eternity, "Well at least it's not all in your head!"  No, dear it's in my stomach!  "Don't you miss the water at Fred's?" he longingly asks.   Absolutely Mr. Bill, absolutely!    

Fred's Facade-Picture Postcard Perfect!

Not much had changed to the facade of Fred's News since the early 1920's, its Victorian architecture, typical of most owner occupied businesses of the era.  Large plate glass windows, thick and wavy, separated by the front entrance.  Mr. Bill often thought of adding an old fashioned screen door, the thought process being, it would be a quaint cozy touch, adding a General Store look to the place, however the State of Connecticut Health Department, nixed that idea!  Off to the side, yet still in the front, another door, leading to the living quarters above the business, hence the double address 49-51 West Main Street.  That always seemed to baffle the Utilities Company, especially when calling for service, however the flip side a tad bit different, they were "spot on" when sending a bill!

Fred's News setting, quite picturesque, as its foundation snuggles up to babbling Beaver Brook.  Literally, the waters of the brook, wash the foundation clean along the entire side of the building.  Great relaxing sound during a awesome summer evening!  At the date of purchase, the old building covered in asbestos shingles, definitely in need of a face lift.  Greg Arpin and Mike Mish, built staging around the building, allowing easy access for Guests entering the front door and safe working conditions for them.  However, the side on the building facing Beaver Brook sporting heights that make the heart flutter, even with staging.  Greg admitting, "as long as you don't look down, not bad!"  As he continued putting up the siding, he managed to stir up a nest of angry hornets.  Luckily I was in the upstairs kitchen as he hollered, "Dee open the window, let me in!"  Not the easiest job pulling over two hundred pounds through one of the smaller windows in the place!  I am sure Greg endured some good-natured ribbing for days after that event.  I am with you on that one Greg, I don't mind heights, but trying to maintain your balance, while swatting away angry hornets at ANY height can be quite the challenge.  I would of opted for the window as well, probably not returning to the staging EVER, regardless of the fact the hornets were exterminated!  Mr. Bill laughs, he gets dizzy on the third rung of the ladder.  Probably why I STILL clean out the gutters.

In the Springtime as we readied the Fred's News building for the warmer season, the upper window boxes needed to be cleaned and re-planted.  Mr. Bill always willing to HOLD the ladder, allowing me to make my way up to the second floor.  I think he gained weight so he wouldn't have to climb the damn thing, using the excuse, "the ladder only supports two-hundred fifty pounds, I'd be pushing it!" Yes, it would of been a challenge for the ladder, truth be known though, Wimpy Bill not fond of heights!  

Springtime also meant that many of the local customers, motorcycle fanatics and antique cars owners would gather weekly for their outings.  The Gold Wing Club's snow-birds would return, parking all the beautiful motorcycles in front of Fred's News.  Customers would joke, the outstanding colors of the bikes,  made even more vivid by the vibrant floral display.  Another group occasionally would park the antique Model T''s and other old vehicles in front of the restaurant.  All one had to do was close your eyes and visualize,  that was exactly what the place looked like years before.  Those beautiful old cars parked in front of the quaint inviting place, complete with stunningly beautiful flowers, park benches, carved trees, wooden bears and over-stuffed cuddly teddy bears, graced the menu covers more than once.  Once I put those menus on display, a second printing was necessary within days, as Guests hoarded them.  Guess you'd say they were a hot collectible! 

Take This Job and Shove It!

Trying to remember where we were when we heard the song: "Take This Job and Shove It",  for now it escapes me, but Mr. Bill was laughing out loud. As I write articles for this blog, I ask him to give me ideas, feedback, moments in time and so on.  Sometimes he knowingly obliges, other times, he hasn't a clue he's just given me inspiration, but that song, oh that song,such fodder for an article.

Twenty five years ago, around this time of year, "The Brothers" decided the Egg-Nazi and I would be the new owners of Fred's News.  Emil, one of "The Brothers" approached Mr. Bill, explaining his decision.  Mr. Bill immediately called me.  At the time I was working as a Vocational Director for a program serving the Developmentally  Disabled, a position dear to my heart.  Yet the opportunity to be business owners of a well established much sought after location, required immediate answers and actions.  All the necessary paperwork, legal mumbo jumbo and everything else was completed by July, just before Mr. Bill's birthday on the 19th of that month.

Along with this turn-key operation, everything from top to bottom, including the employees were ours.  Of course Mr. Bill and I knew we would be there everyday, all day until we had established ourselves, we also knew we could not afford all the personnel that came with the place...decisions had to be made...pink slips written out, this wasn't going to be easy.  All of the employees had served "The Brothers" well, each had their own following and personalities.  Mr. Bill had been working at the place for over two years, he knew who had to go and who would stay on.  Of course it wasn't Mr. Bill that was going to hand out the pink slips, I had the honor.  I had figured our finances, explained them to the Egg-Nazi, along with the reasons behind the whys.  In agreement, he was more than happy to cut a few loose.  We had decided that Barbara, would stay.  She had been the backbone of the place, a longtime girlfriend of Fred, one of "The Brothers", she actually ran the place, we would need her expertise.  She agreed to stay a couple of months, wanting to retire and travel with her Sister.  We immediately agreed.  Johann the Nephew....Great, also part of the agreement was ours.  What to do with Johann? We wanted to change the image of the place, the pros and cons deliberated, the question continually popped up, much like the elephant in the room, it needed to be discussed...What to do with Johann?  First, strict orders, you work for us, you need a MUCH cleaner appearance...and if I hear one more time.."My Uncle wouldn't have done it this way", bodily harm could come your way.  Our association with Johann the Nephew ...Great, as an employee was short-lived.  He did continue to frequent the place, appearing dirtier and more grubby than ever,  but not behind the counter.

A couple of the other employees had let us know they would be seeking employment elsewhere, one visibly upset "The Brothers" hadn't chosen her as their successor, the other just plain ornery, announcing, "I will never work for you!"  For the record, she was speaking of Mr. Bill, their relationship on the morning shift, extremely turbulent.  Even that description, a tad bit on the mild side.  Nonetheless, we signed the legal documents and returned to Fred's News with Emil, one of "The Brothers".  He said his good-byes to everyone, wishing them well, cleaned out the cash register and left.  I handed out pink slips, explaining our decisions.  Mr. Bill's morning partner quickly headed to the old jukebox, dropped in a quarter and for the next two and a half minutes, the little restaurant was filled with the "SONG OF THE MOMENT", Take This Job and Shove It!  As the music subsided, the patrons laughter arose, smiles from everyone, we knew it was a new beginning, yet we had no idea what effect our little place would have on this community and its neighbors,  For that we are very thankful!  

As Time Goes By!

Recently son Mark asked for photos of his cousin, Arthur Douville.  Arthur celebrating his fiftieth birthday and friends wanted photos from his childhood.  Going through my albums I found numerous pictures of Arthur, his sisters and parents, but the memories flowed forth, spewing out in every direction, so many, so fast, I had to stop, put the photos in small keepsake piles, allowing for quality time with each grouping, enabling me to fathom the vastness of our lifetime and just how quickly these wonderful memories have been made.

Tomorrow I celebrate another birthday, yet the upward movement of years doesn't consume me.  Since I have no control over it, going with the flow is the best option.  During my photo search for Arthur, I also found the pictures from my fortieth birthday, which was a generation ago!  Planned as a surprise by family, friends and Fred's News patrons, it was the party event of the year.

 Longtime friend, Edna Girard graced one of the photos, probably the last one taken in Fred's News, she would leave us all too soon.  I am thankful for the picture, my mouth waters for her Ambrosia Salad, my annual birthday present.  Years after she had passed, husband Hogan, faithfully following her recipe, surprised me with the special present.  Edna, looking down, must of been proud, it was scrumptious.

Although, many in the little grouping of "my fortieth b-day" photos, are now enjoying themselves at the big Fred's News in the sky, it was wonderful to view these pictures and to know each one of these people, have a special place in my heart.  There was Happy Adams:  Mr. Bill, Happy and I heading to Florida in Happy's van.  We were driving straight through so as not to miss any of the warm Florida sunshine.  Middle of winter in New England can sometimes be tricky when planning a departure, that year, no exception, yet it would be the ride home that would be one for the record books.  As we headed back north after nearly a week in ninety degree weather, a cold front headed South.  We would be greeted by snow flurries as far south as Jacksonville, Florida, but once we crossed the boarder the weather went strictly downhill. Snow from Georgia to New Jersey, blizzard conditions in the Carolinas, no snow plows, road graders were used.  Finally reaching Virginia we headed off the first exit, as did everyone else, in search of accommodations.  What we found, not the best, one room, two double beds and a very shy Happy Adams.  I think he slept all night in his clothes.  I reminded him we had just spent the week together, at the beach, all he wore was his swimming trunks, perhaps he would of been more comfortable sleeping in those!

Our friend Richie Oatley also pictured at my big four-O.  Remembering him huffing and puffing up and down the stairs as we moved to our new home above Fred's News, "Jesus, Dee, who the hell do you think you are, Imelda Marcos!" he lamented.  This was in reference to all the shoes that needed to be transported during the move.  Alright, Rich, you win I admit, I DO HAVE A SHOE FETISH!

Tears swelled in my eyes as I held the picture of Jim MacD., he left all of us much too soon.  At times, he could really piss you off, yet my memories of him clearing tables, washing off dishes and consoling me, as Mr. Bill began the drive to the Vet, with our beloved Fred the Dog.  Jim knew what it meant to recently loose a cherished pet, loosing all of his black Labs in such a short span of time.  He stayed with me, when the phone call came in, Fred the Dog was now at peace, Jim MacD and I cried...together.  Thanks Jim, it is a memory I will hold dear, in that special place, my heart.

Yes, there are many more fortieth stories, forty pairs of earrings, great poems about reaching the milestone and so many pictures,  Each time I view them, more memories surface.  My kids, now grown, had hair, sorry guys, Todd had a mullet....sorry Tracie, Mr. Bill was a tad bit thinner and me, well let's just say, there have been changes in the last nineteen years.  My hair was long, curly and auburn, it is now short, gray, spiked much like wire, but I do have hair.  Oh yes, I know these things, my bifocals allow me to see these precious photos!  

Banter......is a Good Thing!

Social media conversations over the past week quite reminded me of the face to face conversations at Fred's News.  One of my faithful readers exclaimed,"I quite miss the BANTER of Fred's News. These "conversations" through social media networking, quite reminds me of the place I now realize, so many former patrons absolutely miss!  For the record we all miss the place, the camaraderie, the food and the glorious BANTER! 

BANTER as a verb: to speak to or address in a witty and teasing manner, as a noun, BANTER is good-natured and usually witty and animated joking, something along the lines of "Everyone misses hearing their good natured BANTER!"   The use of the word BANTER can be traced back to approximately 1690, no NOT at Fred's News! Although the land area deeded back in 1659 by Uncas, the Mohegan Indian Sachem, to form the Town of Norwich, Sprague as a town would have to wait a few more years, Fred's News generations later.

 At Fred's News BANTER was an art form.  A synonym for the word BANTER, "give and take"  might more appropriately define conversations at the small, now defunct restaurant.  Depending on the time of year or day for that matter, topic of conversation, what participants were involved, as well as the mood of those participants, conversations varied immensely.  A fine example:  Boston Red Sox vs. New York Yankees. Sport's in itself can cause grown men to practically cry, mix that with certain people gloating over another teams' inadequacies, it kicks up the banter more than a notch.  Words directly related to BANTER,barb, crack, dig, gag, joke, laugh, pleasantry (never at Fred's News), quip, wisecrack (that's more like it), along with facetiousness, mocking, ridiculing, ribbing and razzing, just to name a few.  Sim, Buzz, Richie, very good at the ribbing, razzing, mocking, yet very sensitive if the "favor" was returned.  Although bantering through the social networking sites, is a reminder of all things Fred's News, there are no replacements for: Delaval's outside voice or mine for that matter. Someone so pissed off, trying to make a point, veins popping out in their neck and foreheads, face beat red and bystanders looking on in amazement, social media does not provide that kind a one on one face contact.  Once you experience it, the high you experience, the more you want!  It can be quite intoxicating! Much like the arguments Mr. Bill and I have had during our thirty years together, "only the strong shall prevail" or the person with the loudest and biggest mouth.  In that case, me, Mr. Bill always loosing his voice before he would make a point.  Of course, arguments are quite like bantering, or a wrestling match, if you've only got so much time, make the most of it!  Set the hook and go in for "the kill1"

Many a person left little Fred's News, never realizing what had actually hit him/her.  A former first selectman, quite upset over a series of events, thinking he could still boom louder than my big mouth, so upset with the banter, resorted to insults.  The Egg-Nazi not letting anyone speak ill of me, asked him to leave.  As the conversations continued, he was told, LEAVE.  Realizing he had not had the last word, he abruptly returned, sticking his head through the door, he shouts at Mr. Bill..."and your a lousy golfer too!"  Yes, that WAS the last word. 

Just the other day, Mr. Bill returned home from a round of golf.  "How did you play Sweetheart"? I questioned.  Glancing in my direction, I saw a rather downtrodden look appear on his face.  "You know who was right years ago when he said, I was a lousy golfer, too!" he mumbled.  I burst into laughter...."Did that insult traumatize you for life or what?' I razzed.  Mr. Bill mimicking me, "Did that insult traumatize you for life or what?" he mumbles, only causing me to laugh more.  Sometimes you don't need to get the last word!   

No Answers for the Questions!

For those of you that faithfully read my blog, many thanks!  I enjoy writing, will continue to do so as long as stories pop into my already overcrowded mind.  Sometimes all it takes are subtle hints or smacks in the head(oops should of had a V-8), to let some of those fond and not so fond memories surface.  I love to write everyday, yet my schedule does not always allow for this freedom.  Well it does, but then there would be NO SLEEP!  However you arrive at this blog, the good thing is...you do!  Many find the link on my facebook page, others have bookmarked it to there favorites, some I am sure know the address by heart.  If facebook is your favorite means of finding the link I have a question.  Have any of you reading my facebook page seen the comments going back and forth about Glenn Cheney's article?  I am providing you with a link to please read Glenn's article, it is fascinating, worth the time and makes you think....even if you do not agree!

The Biblical Roots of Fukushima - Associated Content from Yahoo! - associatedcontent.com

http://www.associatedcontent.com/

Perhaps if you read the facebook links as well, you will see the controversy erupting.  Point being, I am not asking everyone to agree, just read and weigh in but please think and ask yourself a few questions.  Do you know someone that has or has died from environmental toxins?  Did you know that the Sprague-Franklin area of Connecticut is called "a hot spot" for cancer?  All the more reasons to change. 

Although it isn't always a cancer, there are numerous other devastating and debilitating diseases.  Parkinson's, Multiple Sclerosis to name a few.  Fred's News had its share of patrons diagnosed with these diseases. Many had spent there lives along the river, using it for recreational purposes as many of the giant mills along the river spewed toxins from within, into the once pristine waters provided by Mother Nature.  Although we are more conscious of the dangers present, mankind continues to pollute in the name of progress and profits! 

Huge companies genetically modify our foods, "we produce a larger more abundant crop, we feed more people, they make much larger profits!"  The "bean counters" have it all figured out..."we may loose a few, but the profits are worth it!"  Another question comes to  mind, "Are the profits monetary to the company or does it profit mankind and its survival?"  Yes, because of overpopulation, "loosing a few" should help our world!  At what cost?  My friend Richie says let Mother Nature take her course!  I agree, but only if Mother Nature is allowed to act alone, not some money hungry company out to "better my world" without first checking the consequences!

No, I am not saying we shouldn't accept progress.  As with all progress, there are pitfalls, some avoidable.  No, I do not have all the answers to the millions of questions regarding chemical use, genetically modified foods, nuclear power and the list grows....but I say read and educate...never accept if you doubt...question the reasons behind the whys.

Up Close and Personal...my Phobia

Occasionally situations arise that jog the memory banks.  Much like a comet returning from the outer most reaches of the vast universe, these memories or frozen moments in time return, orbit the brain, much like a brief dream, speeding off into the unknown, never knowing if they will return.  Within my circle of family it is known, I am not fond of flying creatures.  In the wild, utterly beautiful and even majestic, but within the confines of a building or small space, my heart races, fears begin to swell, I feel the need to get out.  Can't explain why, they can stay, I'll leave, thank you very much!

This phobia started as a child, my sister and I had pet parakeets, hers arriving first.  Miss Q, a beautiful blue, sweet and adorable, would sit on your finger or shoulder, nuzzling at the side of you cheek.  Everything about her was feminine, I loved her.  As my birthday rolled around..."Please, please I want my own bird!" I begged, fool that I am.  Off to the pet shop, "Ginger the parakeet", now being carefully coddled in her travel cage, by an unsuspecting child, was headed to her new home.  Ginger would share her new home with Miss Q, that adorable sweet bird.  After letting her "adjust", it was time to play with my own bird.  Sparing all the ugly details, lets just classify Ginger, a beautiful tropical shade of green, as the alter ego of Miss Q.  Much like the Jekyll-Hyde thing, this was a possessed bird from hell, sent to torment me during my adolescent years, to be used by my "loving" sister as a means of torture.  All was fine until demon bird killed Miss Q, then what seemed to be years of insecurity and downright fear began, sort of a living hell, compounded by the fact this sweet looking tropical cutie carried Houdini genes.  Seriously, I was afraid to come home from school, arriving before anyone else, the little bitch always managed to escape her cage, diving bombing me at the front door.  Even as I tried to luring this winged devil into the great outdoors, she resisted...b*#*h.  So began my life long phobia of all things flying.  Snakes, spiders, mice, all other "scary" creatures, no problems...friggan flying things....heart palpitations.

Dear Father Mike, a visitor from our past, a hero in my eyes,  saved my life:  a bird flies into Fred's News, of course panicking once it realizes it can no longer soar into wild blue, seeks out the one person, that shows fears of it's four inch body...me!  It might of been the high pitched scream forced from my inner most depths, whatever, I know it was sent to torment me...."The return of Ginger!"  Father Mike, rolling over in laughter, tears streaming down his face, threw something over the unsuspecting tiny winged creature, carefully picking it up, return it to Mother Nature.  It was weeks before the fear of a return visit from the "Spirit of Ginger", left my body.

Florida has many gorgeous birds, I admire from a far.  The Sand-Hill cranes walk right up to you, yet I do not fear them.  They are majestic, as are the Bald Eagles and Owls that soar above our home or perch in my backyard preserve.  Big birds, I have no fears, it's the little bastards that scare the crap out of me.  Interestingly enough, my phobia hit center stage two days ago.  Florida has mosquitoes in overly large quantities, Bats help to control the population.  Ugly little creatures, they are fine from a distance.  During a violent thunderstorm, a little winged creature flew into my work location, landing on the floor in the kitchen.  People screamed, one who managed to keep their wits, threw a plastic container over this dazed UGLY bat, then proceeded to get me.  Really! much like a general leading his troops, the leader must show no fear in  moments of adversity.  Although my thoughts were "who the f#*k ever said that", I remained surprisingly calm, by my standards.  Calling pest control, they assured me, they would arrive within five minutes.  For the record, they do not know how to tell time.  Since this petrified winged creature, now covered with a CLEAR plastic container was blocking the walkway through a major artery in the kitchen, it had to be moved.  "Gen. Diane, what are we going to do?" my petrified troops questioned.  As I turned around looking for someone else they might be talking to, I realized.."nope its me, yep Cmdr. in Chief, it's your battle to win or lose...fix it!"  This is how I know pest control took longer than five minutes!  As I carefully slid the small container along the floor, the ugly little Bat staring straight up at me, disgustingly ugly as it was, I tried to remind myself, this is one of God's creatures, it is beautiful!"  Managing to move it out of the walkway, one could hear it's high pitched screeches echoing throughout the location.  Reminding everyone "fun time was over" we have Guests waiting, return to work, I realized Bats, could now be included in my list of winged things that cause great harm to my aging body...particularly a heart attack!

"The Longest Journey" For Our Friend Don

Newspapers, television, the Internet, all mega media highways, ways to push vast amounts of info to people in all corners of the world.  We don't hear much these days about past wars, with  Libya, Iraq, Afghanistan, the current conflicts, that now command our attention.  Yet, if we look at our past history, society should of learned from it, unfortunately this is not the case.  Yesterday as I spent the better part of my afternoon with college students that work at my location, one of the young ladies was visibly upset.  Upon questioning, she revealed her fiance would be heading to Afghanistan within the next six weeks.  She feared, as do all loved ones, she would never see him again.  She is proud, as we all are, she understands the need for his job, she doesn't agree, yet accepts it.  As the conversations continued, friends consoling her, other recent conflicts were introduced.  Her Dad had served in Desert Storm, had a few issues upon returning home, but was now fine.  As I mentioned Vietnam, many of the students new little about this conflict.  Sad, it was so vivid in my mind, yet how can our future generations benefit from the knowledge, if it has never been shared with them?

My young friend shared with the group, her grandfather had served in Vietnam,  She had asked him about it, after her Dad had left for the Middle East.  Grandpa chose not to reveal any of his memories, citing they were painful.  The young girl only worried more about her Dad, those memories, once again surfacing, as her fiance prepares for departure.

Vietnam was my era, WWII my Dad's.  As a child he shared some of his memories with his young daughters. A Marine rifle range drill instructor at Paris Island, Mom joked he commanded thousands of young men, yet his two daughters had him wrapped around their little fingers. Our parents talked openly of the war years, not ashamed to have served their country.  As a teen, friends worried upon graduating from high school, they would be drafted into the Army, then sent to Vietnam.  Many were, some never to return, but those that did had grown older, wiser and sadder.  Some became recluses, rebelling against the society that shunned them.  It would be years before many would again feel they "fit in".  Some never did.  Many never were able to share their experiences, whether they chose to forget what they had seen, experienced or were forced to do just to survive.  When they returned, they questioned their government and society questioned them.  Now, as that generation approaches their golden years, many fighting a battle, one that had its beginnings in Vietnam, Agent Orange.  Plague with series of debilitating and often deadly illnesses, these proud soldiers continue to fight, only this time up close and so much more personal.

Fred's News friends continue to fight.  Wayne, our friend, served two tours of duty in Vietnam, one because he had to, the other to protect his younger brother from the horrors he had already witnessed, burned forever in his memory, surfacing as horrific demons of guilt, something only he alone has been able to deal with. It is his health that is the constant reminder of his past, a memento of his time in a far off land.  Wayne, one of the luckier ones, he continues his battle.  Other friends, not so lucky, Willy, Lonnie, Rich, just a few now at peace, the demons demise also meant theirs as well.

We have a special friend, Don.  He is part of our Florida family,  a patron of Fred's News, an avid reader of "A Constant Place".  Part of that elite group, young men called to action, defend their country, shunned as they returned, health woes throughout their lives, all in the name of patriotism. He now faces the toughest battle of his life, he calls it "The Longest Journey".  Don decided to write his blog for a number of reasons: something to do, a way of sharing his experiences with others fighting the same battle,  assistance in maintaining his sanity, and other reasons only known to Don. We applaud his decision, we pray for our friend and his family.  Please read ane visit Don's blog,  The Longest Journey@ blogspot.com.  Good luck our friend and "write on!"

A Friend Remembered

There have been many people that passed through the doors into the world of Fred's News.  Some were regulars, others just in passing.  Some leaving lasting impressions, others friends for a lifetime and some just comforting memories, recalled at a moments notice. Our friend Mr. Oatley, among those that left his mark.  A quiet man, always willing to help,  he enjoyed sitting, listening and conversing with all that shared they Fred's News experience. Disabled early in life from a freak accident at his place of employment, Rich, stayed busy.  Best know for his fancy red pick-up truck, always immaculate, Richie loved the flowers of Fred's News.  He often mentioned, "Spring was his season". He enjoyed the colors of Spring, the re-birth of the landscape, taking great pride in his vibrant blooming Rhododendron bushes, their beauty, breathtaking.  Neighbors awaited the blooming of these plants yearly, their colors so vivid.  Although the bushes were large and in need of pruning, Richie decided against it, fearing they would never return to their glory. Other family members decided the now tree-like plants needed to be pruned and took it upon themselves.  The dastardly deed done, Richie near died, as he witnessed the results, a very sad day on Main Street, in the tiny village of Baltic. His family, I am sure feared not only for their lives, but worried Richie would give himself heart failure.  As he related the story to patrons of Fred's News, all assured him, they would return even bigger and better, next Spring.  For the record, it took more than one Spring and never really quite as exquisite.

Richie passed away much too soon, leaving a void in the Fred's News family.  It was he who called the restaurant, the morning of the twin tower attacks, 911. Too sick with cancer, he made sure his Fred's News family was not only informed but safe as well.   Our first few months in business, it was Richie that helped us move our entire house in one day, just a few hundred feet up West Main Street, to our new home above Fred's News Restaurant.  I was quite sure Richie was going to suffer a heart attack that afternoon.  Two flights of stairs, heavy furniture, boxes, clothes and anything else in our former abode, was moved in it's entirety, in one day.  Not about choices, we had a business to run, sorting out the mess, stuck in every available space, would have to wait.  Just put everything in a room, any room!  I remember as we packed up the contents of our home some twenty-plus years later...."Jesus, I did not realize we still had this, thought it was lost in the last move!" Now that's scary.

Today as I walked around Disney's Epcot, I watched some of the painters behind the scene, making sure that the Disney experience is perfect.  fresh coats of paint, gorgeous flowers, everything in tip-top shape, I thought of Richie.  His hobby, he loved to paint, his hopes and dreams, someday he would be a painter at Disney World! Sadly, he never achieved that dream, yet today as I watched painters hurriedly applying a new coat, I thought of Richie and I am sure his spirit sits on their shoulders..."oops you missed a spot, it's gotta be purr-fect!" That's our friend..Rich Oatley!  

Sometimes it Just Pays

Really bad weather the past few days, is a reminder that even this gorgeous tropical weather we so enjoy, has a downside.  The late Spring snowstorm forecasted for our former home state, not a fun event either! Soggy, doesn't even begin to describe our landscape.  Mr. Bill jokes, "we live in LAKE-LAND, appropriately named!"  Many homes look as though they are situated on an island in the middle of a lake.  We, on the other hand, are fortunate not to have a retention pond located within a stones throw from our home, the preserve however, is overflowing with water, it's abundant masses of decaying leaves seems to have risen at  least three feet, as if all of the debris were giant sponges absorbing the monsoon type rains.  If this continues we will have water front property.  All around us, the storms have created quite the mess, many without power, son Matthew, among the thousands waiting for it to be restored.  Living in an over fifty five community, ours was off a relatively short amount of time.  Sometimes it pays to be an old fart!

Nothing worse than a busy chaotic weekend morning at Fred's News, grill is full of scrumptious foods being cooked to perfection by the Egg-Nazi, Toast Person has stacks of all kinds of fresh breads waiting their place in the toasters, Dish Bitch moaning and groaning, "too many plates to be pre-washed, dishes are getting ahead of me!", waitstaff keep pulling in the orders, continuous pots of fresh brewed coffee are emptied in an instant, then POOF....silence, as if "when E.F.Hutton speaks, everyone listens!"  Total silence, then the moans, "Oh no ...powers out!"  No rhyme or reason, sun is shining brightly, no thunder or lightening....then we here the local fire siren blaring, quickly listening to the scanner...."Accident car vs. pole".  "What the hell, don't they know we are hungry," cry the patrons.  Of course they are....we've got tons of food cooking and no power!  Don't think anyone had the thought,"was anyone hurt in this mishap or do we know who was hurt."  Nope, a hungry crowd is a nasty crowd!

No power may have also been the result of a particularly nasty storm.  That being the case, Fred's News was not the only place without power.  Unless everyone had a generator, we all suffered the same...no power.  My favorite question.."Hey how come you don't have a generator at your place?"  Well, we seriously thought about it,  Fred's News was all electric.  We did a feasibility study, with results suggesting; the amount of times the power went out vs. how much it would cost to buy a generator that would run the entire place.  We figured we'd have to work ten years for it to pay for itself.  Not a sound business decision.  Johann the Nephew...Great, suggested we use one of his home made generators.  Mr. Bill and I figured, that too, not a sound business decision.  Johann known for things going awry!

So, we took our chances....the substation for Northeast Utilities only a stones thrown from Fred's News.  The emergency crew working to restore power.....they too are hungry.  As one of the work crew pulls up to the front door of the restaurant and comes in...."Hey can we get breakfast and why is it so dark in here?" he questions.  Excuse me, dip shit, in case you hadn't noticed....duh.....no power.   "OMG" he actually looks astonished, "we'll take care of that first."  Within five minutes powers back on, in twenty minutes they are back,  the entire crew and they are famished.  "Can you feed us now?" they ask with broad smiles and devilish twinkles in their eyes.  "Got to take care of the people that take care of us!  is the statement we heard.  Absolutely, sometimes it pays to have connections...electrical that is!