This is the 40th anniversary of my parents moving us to Massachusetts. Christmas of ’68 is indelibly associated in my mind with $1 Peanuts books and the Beatles record called “The Beatles”.
I don’t listen to the White Album every Christmas, but I’m glad that Fantagraphics made it possible to revive the Charlie Brown tradition by publishing The Complete Peanuts. I posted a picture of last year’s books, and I’ll start a new tradition by showing you this year’s books. One of them has a serious printing defect, but all of the pages are there so I don’t mind.
We enjoy getting a few new ornaments every year, and Carol bought this one with Snoopy and Woodstock.
Here it is, the first snow of the winter, and we’re promised about a foot of it, so I’m glad the snow thrower started right up and is ready to go. This will be its tenth season.
[flv:http://www.dograt.com/Video/2008/DEC/SnowThrower.flv 480 360]
Carol and I sometimes talk about the fact that our neighborhood doesn’t have natural gas service, but we’re surrounded by streets that do. The last time we had that discussion was in August, when heating oil was heading for $5/gal. But now with heating oil $2.50/gallon or less, I’m reminded of the downside of natural gas.
It’s always something. Got home late tonight, after what I admit was a fairly successful sojourn of Christmas shopping. Carol reported that the light under the over-stove microwave oven was out. So I got a Phillips head screwdriver and removed the cover.
Both bulbs were out, which seemed a little strange. The bulb on the right came out easily, but when I tried to unscrew the bulb on the left it looked like this.
So… not knowing which circuit breaker the microwave is on, because most of the breakers aren’t labeled, I took a pair of insulated needle nose pliers and deliberately shorted out the socket. There was a little explosion, and knowing the bulb’s current comes straight from the 120V outlet, I could assume that the circuit breaker would pop with no damage likely to the microwave oven.
With the power off, I was able to get the screw cap out of the socket with the pliers. Then I took the other bulb, intact but burned out, to Lowe’s — a five mile drive — checked the wattage (40), and bought a couple of replacements.
Got back home, installed the bulbs, and screwed the glass cover back in place. I went downstairs, reset the circuit breaker, went back upstairs, turned on the lights and — voila! — problem fixed. And after all of that I didn’t feel like writing about anything else.
We were lucky this past Thursday when an ice storm missed us, but not very far from here, in Central Massachusetts, conditions are very bad. Entire towns are without power, and some won’t have it back until mid-week.
Carol is a volunteer with the Medical Reserve Corps. Today she’s at a middle school in Worcester, helping the families that have taken shelter there. Carol called a minute ago and said that while driving there it was almost as if there were a line along the road, where all of a sudden trees were down everywhere. Doctors and nurses are the core of the corps, but Carol is a nutritionist, and this morning on her way out at 6:30 she joked that she’d put everybody on a diet.
Growing up, I had absolutely no interest in football at all, and even if I had I didn’t have the ability to play it very well. I enjoyed playing baseball a lot, but I was born left handed and in first grade was forced to bat rightie, so I was never good at hitting. Then I became nearsighted, and after getting glasses the summer between fifth and sixth grade I never wore them in gym, to avoid breaking them, so I couldn’t see the ball anyway.
So by the time I got to high school I wasn’t good for much in gym class. I knew Ed Leary was a great football coach, but because I wasn’t into sports I wasn’t tuned into his wavelength. What I enjoyed doing was running, and only running. I wasn’t even exceptional at that, but I enjoyed it, and I looked forward to track in the spring.
Edward Leary, Acton-Boxborough (MA) Regional High School
By the eleventh grade Mr. Leary and I had reached an understanding, and he’d sometimes let me run laps around the track instead of whatever else I was supposed to be doing. I couldn’t believe that doing lots of laps was considered to be some sort of a punishment. I loved it. With the pressure off, I actually started to enjoy basketball, beyond just shooting baskets.
If PE could have been all about running and nothing else, I would have been happy. Frankly, I think the concept of team sports being equivalent to physical fitness is bogus. It seems schools have caught onto that, and now health and fitness doesn’t demand kids knowing the rules of American football.
My senior year in high school I didn’t have to take gym, so I didn’t, and that was very good for me. The summer after graduation I had a job working with two guys who had been on the track team. One of them was the star runner, and he got me started with long distance running, and 35 years later I’m still running.
One of my regular routes took me past Mr. Leary’s house, and one time when I was home from college I saw him outside and I waved. He looked amazed, and with a big smile on his face he shouted, “Pratt… is that you??” “Yes sir, Mr. Leary!” I think he said something like “Good man,” but I was moving and couldn’t really hear him.
At my high school reunion five years ago I was saddened to hear that Mr. Leary had suffered a stroke, and now I’ve read that Mr. Leary died five days ago. Obituaries are here and here. Even though I was a different sort of kid, Ed Leary was always fair and honest with me, and I’m glad to have known him. God rest, Mr. Leary.
