The Greatest Fishing Day Ever!

As regular readers of my blog know, my dad was a very avid fisherman. Whenever he had a day off, he usually went fishing. When we had our summer vacations however, he could not join my brother and my mom during the week, as vacation slots were determined by seniority. Here was a guy with like 8 weeks of vacation, but he never had one in the summer!
This one summer, we were on vacation again in the Catskill Region of New York state, in a town called Hunter. We stayed at a house which could hold 4-5 families or so, with some shared kitchens.
The Schoharie creek ran in the backyard, and my younger brother and I spent countless hours on the creek, fishing, swimming, and catching minnows and crayfish for use as bait .

When my father came up on the weekends,it would be non stop fishing the whole weekend. His fishing partner, Andrew, from my blog story "Andrew Rode the Boat Ashore", spent his entire summer staying at this house , so he of course would join my father and I on any fishing trips.

This particular summer was a very dry one and the drought had really taken a toll on the Schoharie Reservoir

where we were headed that day. The creek of the same name flowed for miles, eventually ending up at this huge reservoir which was probably 15-20 miles from where we were staying. The minnows I caught on the creek were so fragile, that we would stop at least 2 times on the way to the reservoir, to change the water in the minnow bucket.
When we finally made it to the water, after winding our way thru the forest path, we were all astonished at how low the water level was.There were only a few "ponds" of water here and there where the remaining waters had collected.
We quickly got our poles ready and began to fish. You've heard the expression of "shooting fish in a barrel". Well, this was hooking fish in a barrel. With virtually every cast in the water, regardless of what bait was used, a fish of some type was after it! We started to pull in walleyes, pickerel, perch, bass, crappies, and sunfish. It was a feeding frenzy! At one point, I had lost my bait  and was reeling my pole in when a fish struck at my line, because there was a small flashy metal blade that went with the hook!

Within  less than an hour, the three of us hauled in over 50 fish of all sizes and shapes. We would have caught more, but got lackadaisical when reeling them in and lost more than we would have on a normal fishing day!
Our success no doubt, was because the fish population, which was normally spread out over miles of water, were now crowded into some pretty small pockets of water.

With 50 fish caught in about an hours time, we decided to call it a day. We hauled the heavy load of fish back to the car and once we got back to our vacation house, gutted and cleaned all of them and boasted to anyone who would listen, about the greatest fishing day ever!

Stranded- Part 2

As I've outlined in Part 1 of "Stranded" , my son and I were stuck  at the Newark Penn Station train station due to a blizzard.
I quickly inventoried our possible alternatives. Transportation wise, there were none. Driving was impossible at this point and I wasn't about to call my wife and have her attempt to pick us up as my home is about 45 minutes in normal traffic from Newark.
I decided to call my daughter as she lived much closer to Newark. But she was stuck in her car, on Rt 280 one exit away from her house ,as she had been for over an hour! I explained our situation to her and she said she would call me once she got home.We tried calling one of my son's friends as he lived close by, but got no answer.
My thoughts now turned to finding a place to stay over that night. I knew there was a hotel right across the street from the train station, so my son and I ventured outside for the first time since the blizzard had started. It was not until that moment that I realized how bad the snow was. There was probably almost 10" by then and it was snowing like crazy!

We went into the hotel lobby and I asked the clerk if they had any rooms available and he gave me a classic reply:
"If President Obama showed up right now and asked us for a room, I would tell him what I'm telling you..we are 100% booked."

My son and I trudged back to the train station, where minute by minute, the chaos was growing. My cell phone rang and it was daughter! She had managed to finally get home and of course had her own horror story about her commute from NYC herself. My daughter had taken the initiative to find us a hotel room and actually found one and booked it for us! Only problem was, it was back in NYC near where the Twin Towers had stood. My daughter added that  was only 20 minutes away via the  PATH train, which was still running!

My son and I quickly found where the PATH trains departed from out of the terminal and bought our tickets. We waited for the next train for probably a half hour, but it did show up! We got on and joined the other anxious passengers.
The train ride was slow and we had several stops in Jersey to endure before we would enter the final tunnel to get into NYC. At one of the last stops, the train doors opened, people got on and off, and then we went nowhere. The train doors were open, allowing the incredibly  cold air into our train car. The public address system continued to babble unintelligibly with it's pre-recorded messages that made no sense and only served to irritate everyone..  No official updates were given, and we sat there for a half an hour. At one point, I glanced over at my son, and we both burst out laughing at the incredibly absurd situation.
Without warning, the doors closed, and we were on our way again, albeit very slowly. As we neared the last stop in NJ, the public address system announcer advised us that due to the blizzard the train would NOT be going onto the World Trade Center stop, where our hotel was. He indicated that bus service would be provided to take us into the city. I was highly skeptical that the bus, if there was one, would be able to go a block before getting stuck.
I got back on my phone, trying to book us a hotel room somewhere in Hoboken, NJ, which was going to be the last stop.
Then without any announcement, it was evident that we were going to get to the WTC stop after all. The train pulled into our station, and my son and I quickly bounded up the steps of the station into the winter wonderland. We trudged to the hotel and exhausted, made it up to our room. The 20 minute train ride had taken over 2 hours!

The next morning we got up early and made our way back to Penn Station in Newark. Many people were still sleeping there , stranded passengers like ourselves.
We finally got on the train that would take us back to our car in Jersey. We didn't know it at the time, but we caught the last train back to Jersey that morning...all trains out of Newark were suspended for the day right after ours departed.

Stranded!

Three years ago, nearly two feet of snow fell in New York City, in a blizzard of historic proportions.
As fate would have it, I was right in the middle of it. Here's the story.
I am fortunate enough to be employed as a sales manager for a big company that has a skybox suite at Madison Square Garden in New York City. It's used to entertain our biggest clients. The sales pros are free to invite their customers for most of the events that are held at the Garden, from the New York Knicks to Elton John and everything in between, including professional wrestling, which my son and I are fans of.

There's much demand for tickets for most events, but wrestling isn't the most popular event on the list. As it's a requirement that a manager attend all events, I am usually the only one who actually wants to help host the wrestling events and be the required managerial presence.
 I had agreed to host the event which was to be held at 7:30 on on 12-26-2010. No other folks from my company would be attending. I think about 6 people were scheduled to attend as my company's guests.
As the fates would have it, the weatherman were predicting an all out blizzard for that day and for once, they got it right. By the time we drove to the parking lot of the train station late that  afternoon, it was already snowing, and snowing hard. Under any other circumstances, I would not have ventured out beyond my own driveway, but I had made a commitment to host the event and I had a responsibility to fufill that promise.
We did pack the car with snow shovels and extra clothing and gear, but we traveled light on the train, since we would be indoors while traveling, the whole time. The train takes you right underneath MSG. We made it to the Garden on schedule, with few issues.

The wrestling event itself was mediocre at best, as the wrestlers themselves were distracted by the thought of not knowing how they were going to get to their next destination later that evening. Only 2 customers showed up, leaving the four of us to try and eat enough food to feed a dozen people. The 2 customers left before the event was over, worried about getting home. My son and I stayed till the end, probably about 10:30. Before we left, I stuffed a few leftover cookies into the pockets of my winter coat.
We got our first glimpse of what was going on outside as we left the Garden and got on the train from NYC's
Penn Station to Newark's Penn Station. From the windows looking out of MSG, it looked insane outside. At Newark Penn station, we could take the train that would bring us back to our car. Or so we thought.

The train ride from NYC to Newark went remarkably well, and we immediately went to the information booth to find out when the next train was back to the Somerville, NJ station, where our car was parked. Pandemonium was already underfoot, and I saw  a lot of fellow train riders with worried looks on their faces. The attendant at the information gave us the bad news. The storm was already so bad that ALL trains out of Newark were cancelled. Period. We had no transportation alternatives out of Newark. It was a little before 11PM and we were stranded.

To be continued.

My Lunch With Donovan

A few years ago, I subscribed to an internet  mailing list for Donovan, so I could keep track of his album releases and concerts. Rather than assume that you know who Donovan is, here's a brief bio on this very underrated musical talent.

From 1966 through 1969, Donovan scored a string of eleven Top 40 hits in a row, including Mellow Yellow, Sunshine Superman, Epistle To Dippy, There Is A Mountain, Wear Your Love Like Heaven, Hurdy Gurdy Man, Jennifer Juniper, Lalena, Atlantis, and Riki Tiki Tavi.
Donovan was one of the few artists to collaborate on songs with the Beatles, contributing lyrics and vocals to the song Yellow Submarine. Donovan was also invited by The Beatles to join them at Abbey Road Studios for the final orchestral overdub session for the Lennon-McCartney collaboration A Day in the Life, the grand finale of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.
Donovan influenced Paul McCartney, John Lennon, and George Harrison in their guitar styles, and during his career played with folk music greats Pete Seeger, Joan Baez, and Bob Dylan, as well as rock musicians Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin and Brian Jones of the Rolling Stones.

Enough said, this guy is a legend!  In any event, one day I get an email that went to all members of this Donovan mailing list stating that Donovan would be having lunch before his gig in New Jersey and that everyone on the list was invited to join him!
My son Greg and I showed up at the appointed time and place and sure enough there was Donovan, having lunch with about 15-20 fans. I walked up to the table and said "I guess we're in the right place!"

Indeed, we were. As the lunch progressed, we played a musical chairs type of maneuver, where once you got to speak with Donovan for a spell, you moved down, so everyone got a chance. I of course quickly put my foot in my mouth by describing one of my favorite songs of his  to Donovan as "simple". His reply of : "Do you play?", made me realize I had insulted him , although no insult was intended. We moved on and had a delightful  conversation. My son Greg asked him about some nefarious business dealings from the past where Don (this is what us insiders call him) had gotten shafted by some recording execs.

Before you know it, lunch was over. I shared another moment with Don in the men's room as we relieved ourselves. Goodbyes were exchanged and I told him how we were looking forward to hearing him later that day in concert.

He gave a great concert that night!

The Pee Machine

 I was a hard core bed-wetter up until at least nine years old. By hard core, I mean I drenched my pajamas along with bed every single night! As a parent, I can now fully appreciate how hard it must have been on my mom  to have to wash my urine filled clothes and bedding every morning. I never did hear one word of complaint in all those years.

It was really embarrassing in many respects and I can clearly remember having to say no to any sleep over requests from my friends, lest they find out about my little secret.
So one day, without telling me why, my mom told me that it was super important that I come home right from school that day. When I got home , there was a stranger in our living room who my mom introduced as a representative of a company that rented out bed wetting alarm machines. What a sales job this guy had.
From that day forward in my house, we called this cool little device, the pee machine.

Here's the way it worked. A aluminum like pad was placed under your sheets. The pad was connected by wires to the little radio like device that was placed by your bed and the unit was plugged in to an outlet. When you let loose, the urine completed the electrical circuit and set off a piercing alarm. The sales guy actually demonstrated it by having a glass with some salt dissolved in it, which he pored on one the pads he had hooked up to the pee machine. Sure enough, when he spilled just a little of the salt water on it, the little unit let out a very shrill tone. I sat there listening to it squeal until the sales guy told me to shut off the pee machine , which I did.
Thankfully, my parents were able to buy the pee machine elsewhere, which was a lot less expensive than renting it.
Over the next several weeks, everyone in the family knew when I was wetting my bed. Sometimes, the piercing alarm would still be shrieking when my mom came in to assist, as I was still sound asleep.
My mom kept a "wetting the bed "report card by my bed, with room for comments and stars if I stayed dry. I remember one of the comments being a simple one word " flood", with others noting how I got up  quickly and actually emptied most of my bladder in the toilet instead of in my bed! Slowly, with some "accidents" in between, the dry nights became more and more frequent, as my body and brain started to understand that when I had to go, it meant that I had to wake up and then go. I'll bet it was an 8-12 week process, but in the end, I was cured!
So lift a glass and join me in saluting  the glorious pee machine!

The Dumbest Thing I Ever Did

The dumbest thing I ever did just happened yesterday. I'm still smarting from my mistake, but felt it best to blog about it now, while the wound is still fresh.
I've read some articles lately that say how when you plan an event in the future, that you are really looking forward to, that you actually benefit from the event several weeks prior to it actually occurring. I can attest that this is a true statement. Every summer, we take one week of what I call a real vacation. Not a "staycation" , where you take day trips, but a real away from it all vacation. We've been going to Cape Cod in Massachusetts on and off for over 20 years, since our kids were little. We are so familiar with The Cape, that it feels like a second home for us.

Usually in December, I start trolling http://www.homeaway.com and plug in the search criteria for the house we need and start emailing the owners who have listed their houses for rent. We bring our dog Newman with us, and searching for "pet friendly" rentals cuts down on the number of suitable places quite substantially.
I found a great place this year that matched our budget and needs and booked the house for a week before 2013 even started! Several emails and even a phone call were exchanged between myself and the owners and eventually they sent us the rental agreement and we sent them a deposit.
We were all set for the week of 7/14-7-21.

I'm not a last minute packer, so I spent about 2 weeks slowing gathering everything we need for vacation. I'm so organized that I've developed a "vacation to do/bring" list that I update every year, so we don't forget anything.  I notify our newspapers to suspend delivery, make sure the yard and garden are tended to before we're away for the week, etc. I research what live theater and music we might see during our vacation, and even search for new eateries that are highly rated on YELP. I buy our beach pass ahead of time too, so we don't waste a precious minute getting one in person. I arrange for our mail to be picked up by a neighbor, and lined up our kids (now adults), to water the garden during our absence.

Mentally, I start thinking about how great vacation is going to be, and how relaxing and wonderful the whole experience is going to be at least two weeks before we go. This year was no exception.

So Saturday night, we went to bed early, knowing we would be getting up at 4:30 AM for the over five hour drive to The Cape.
The car was already packed, the  GPS loaded with the vacation address, and our anticipation was high.  The ride up was easy and we were fortunate not to hit any traffic jams even as we took one of the two bridges which are the only means of entry onto Cape Cod. We were on The Cape before 11 AM, and knew we had several hours to spend before we could get into our rental house where check in time was three PM. We drove along beautiful Route 6A , and stopped for breakfast at our favorite place, the 6A Cafe.

As we neared the town of Eastham, where our rental was, my wife and I excitedly pointed out several destinations we would surely hit during our stay...Nickerson State Park, Villa Pizza, Cape Cod Natural History Museum, and many others. It was going to be glorious week, with even the weather cooperating. We actually showed up about 1:30 at our rental, but the owner told us he had just arrived to clean it, and that we should come back at the check in time of 3 PM, which we did.

I started to feel slightly anxious when we pulled into the parking area where there were now 2 cars parked. We really wanted to unload the car, settle our dog and go out for a late lunch. What was even odder was that there were several people sitting on OUR deck (well at least it was ours for the week), drinking ice tea and chatting. We figured they were friend of the owners, who had stopped over to chat. I grabbed a few bags from our car and my wife asked if was ok to go in the house and the owners said sure. My wife noticed there was a "welcome " goody bag on the kitchen table, with someone else's name on it. She went back outside on the deck to tell the owners, and that's right about when all us started to realize something was amiss.

The people on the deck chatting with the owners were renters just like us. They had booked the week of 7-14, just like we had, or so I thought. The owner quickly took out his iPAD and said something like, "I hope I didn't make a mistake ."  While he fumbled with his iPAD, I fired up my laptop, where
I knew I had copies of the emails we had exchanged regarding the rental. Before I could connect up, the owner showed me a copy of the rental agreement I had signed. It was for the week of 7/7 to 7/14. That was last week! While it was hot in the kitchen where I was trying to get my laptop connected, my own internal temperature spiked to the point where beads of sweat were pouring off my face.

No matter what emails I found, the owner had the proverbial smoking gun with the copy of the signed rental agreement.. Somehow, I had messed up the dates. We were a week late!  Still disbelieving I had made such a moronic error, I continued to try to get my laptop connected to the internet , still thinking that maybe the owners had screwed up the dates. When I finally was able to view my emails, I couldn't find one that supported this week as the week we had asked for. I told the owner I had committed a colossal blunder. He was as nice as could be, feeling badly for us, but what could he really do? He helped me find a realtor in town as I was thinking at this point that maybe we could rent another place for the week.

But as we pulled away from our short lived vacation house, I started to realize that finding another suitable rental at 4 PM on a Sunday afternoon, was probably not going to happen. We also hadn't budgeted any monies for such an occurrence. The wife suggested we drive a short distance to Ben and Jerry's were she would get us some ice cream, and we could decide what to do.

Before she even came back to the car with my New York Fudge Chunk ice cream,

I realized that the best alternative was to head home and cut our losses. My wife agreed and some tears were shed by yours truly as I realized that all of my planning, anticipation, and excitement had just been dashed to bits. We were not going to be spending the week at The Cape. I had killed our vacation by messing up the date. Even as I write this, I still don't get what possessed me to do so.

We had spent a grand total of about four and half hours on the Cape. Talk about a vacation that flew by!

Flying Mushooms!

My mom would wash the kitchen floor now and then on Saturdays, on her hands and knees. It looked beautiful when it was done. We all knew that we should try as best we could to keep that floor as clean as possible at least for a while. She also cleaned the rest of the kitchen until it all glistened and shined.

My dad went fishing almost every Saturday and on this particular spring day came home late in the afternoon and strolled into the kitchen from the back door, which lead right into the kitchen. His muddy boots which he failed to take off, made a trail from the door to the kitchen stove. My dad had picked wild mushrooms that day and was eager to cook them up on the gas range immediately. So here he is, standing at the range, muddy fishing boots on, frying mushrooms which are splattering grease all over the newly cleaned range.

Enter my mom. Heated words were exchanged between this great couple who rarely fought over anything. The battle of words continued until my dad reached his boiling point. In one seamless motion, he shut off the frying mushrooms, walked over to the back door, and propped it open with one hand. He then flung the frying pan and mushrooms out the door into our back yard, which was four feet away from the door.


They were still sizzling when I went outside to retrieve them.