My name is Jay Gaulard and I'm a hobbyist blogger who writes for four websites. For this website in particular, I try to post daily or almost daily. My posts stem from either thoughts floating through my mind at the moment or from events that have occurred during the day. From wherever they stem, I sincerely hope my posts are as entertaining as they are insightful. And as always, please don't hesitate to comment on and share a post you found humor with. It'd mean the world to me.
This is going to be a post about 90s dance music and the 90s New York City (and surrounding areas) nightclub scene. I’m not particularly proud of my once taste in music, but I’m certainly proud of the many good times I’ve had in the once nightclubs. There’s a lot to tell from this era and if you happened to have been alive during it and if you happened to have lived in the New York tri-state area, you may just relate to what I’m about to share below. Either that, or you were simply annoyed by the entire thing. Or you were somewhere in the middle.
I grew up about an hour north of New York City. I lived in what’s referred to as a bedroom community, which is a suburb located outside a city in which the bedroom community’s residents largely work. My town wasn’t particularly exciting and I, as well as many other residents, often lamented its lack of goings on. While my town wasn’t the center of activity, it was at least near the center of activity. Southern Westchester County as well as NYC offered tons to do. As I grew into my late teens and early twenties, I took full advantage of many of those offerings.
To start this post off, I’d like you to watch a bit of the following video. While it was recorded during the late 80s, it’s indicative of the energy of our area during the early to mid-90s. In the video is a once NYC DJ named Broadway Bill Lee. While he’s moved around quite a bit, during the late 80s and early 90s, he worked as a jock at the high energy radio station, Hot 97. During the late 90s, he worked at WKTU, which was a direct competitor of Hot 97. Both stations have had their ups and downs, but when I was around 20 years old, they were the best dance stations on the air. Hands down, nothing could compare to the New York City radio market and none could compare to the talent that market attracted.
Scoop, Broadway Bill Lee, Hot 97 NYC, November 1988
As a side note, I left southern New York in 1996, so I have no idea what happened to music after that. From what I gather, it exploded and went straight down hill. I’d like to think my absence had something to do with that.
There are a lot of heavy metal bands out there. I’m no aficionado, but I do know this: It’s widely believed that back in the late 60s, Black Sabbath initiated the birth of this genre. If you’ve ever heard of Ozzy Osborne, let it be known that he may just have been the impetus behind some of the most loved and followed music on the planet. And I mean that – metalheads are unlike any other type of music lover in existence. They were and still are dedicated, well informed, and are flat-out unique in so much of what they do in their lives. Back in the 80s, I’d see these folks walking up and down the sidewalks all decked out in their black jeans, black leather jackets, and spikes all over their wrists, shoulders, waistlines, and necks. Metalheads still exist today. Many of them have never lost their love of 70s and 80s metal and they’ll die wearing their lonely, somewhat off-putting outfits. That’s what the average person thinks of their clothing, anyway. But if the average person were to stop a metalhead to chat, they’d most certainly discover an introspective, hyper-resolute, and wildly thoughtful person. The depth of the metalhead isn’t to be underestimated.
When I was 12 years old, my friend Russell introduced me to a band named Metallica. There were two albums he had me listen to: Ride the Lightning and Master of Puppets. The first is heavier than the second, while the second is more, how do I say this, nuanced and mature than the first. They’re both incredibly awesome albums and if I had to guess, I’d say that Metallica is the most popular heavy metal band on the planet.
When I was a kid, there really were only a few popular bands to choose from; Metallica, Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, Slayer, Megadeth, and perhaps Pantera. The reason I say perhaps regarding Pantera is because I hadn’t heard of them until the 90s. I never found them appealing either. As it pertains to Slayer and Megadeth… eh. A friend or two of mine listened to those groups, but they were really categorized in the death metal genre, making them difficult to listen to. Iron Maiden? I’ll share a quick story about them below, but for now I’ll simply say that as much as I’d love to love Iron Maiden, I can’t. They have so many albums to select from too, but unfortunately, I can’t stand their music. Perhaps a song or two is just okay and bearable, but otherwise, it’s a hard pass. Their album cover and t-shirt art is beyond reproach though. Again, more on them later.
Iron Maiden T-Shirt Art
Metallica was the one for me. The group was commercially successful and their albums were widely available. And they were damn good. Don’t believe me? Watch the video below and see why Metallica was and remains more popular and more loved than any other. By the way, the concert below was held in Moscow and it was estimated to have attracted 1.6 million fans. And as you’ll see in the clip below, even those who weren’t fans before the music began promptly became fans after. Keep an eye on the military personnel. What a show.
Metallica – Enter Sandman Live in Moscow – 1991
To be fair, Metallica wasn’t the only band to perform at the aforementioned concert. AC/DC, The Black Crowes, and Mötley Crüe were also in attendance, making the concert, dubbed Monsters of Rock, one of the largest ever held.
Back when I was a kid living in New York, I loved attending flea markets (marché aux puces, or market of the fleas, literally). At these markets, I’d buy all sorts of stuff. Usually pocket knives and bungee cords. I’m not sure why I was so enthralled with pocket knives at such a young age, but I was. And to this day, I wonder where they all went, as I don’t own them anymore. I’m going to guess my mother tossed them in the trash when I moved out of my parents’ house on my way to college. As for the bungee cords, I still buy them. I inherited that fancy from my father, I’m sure. He’s a bungee connoisseur as well.
I also bought handcuffs, fireworks, and concert t-shirts at times like these. And it’s one shirt in particular I’d like to sit at the center of a short story I’d like to tell.
It was a three-quarter sleeve Iron Maiden shirt I purchased at the Stormville Flea Market in none other than Stormville itself. In New York, if you’re not familiar with that gigantic, world-renowned market. I believe the grounds are used as an airport or something in between seller days, so you’ll understand when I tell you these summertime events were, and still are, enormous. I didn’t attend often, but when I did, I usually walked out of there with lots of goodies in hand.
The shirt was black with blue sleeves. It was really the coolest thing I ever saw, so I knew I needed to buy it. It was hanging on some lattice in between many other concert t-shirts in a vendor booth. I bought the shirt and wore it to school the next day. I was in 7th grade and as I sported the new Iron Maiden garment, I felt like a little badass. Actually, I was a little badass and this is the reason:
Iron Maiden – Piece of Mind – Image Credit: Last Rites
Above was the artwork on the back of the shirt and as for the front, it was a skull with chains hanging from its mouth. I can’t seem to locate an image of that at the moment. With such a cool looking graphic seared to my back, I could obviously feel only one way – like a badass, as stated above.
You need to know who I was when I was a kid. I had a few pairs of jeans and a couple of shirts. My favorite shirt of all time was a red hooded sweatshirt, which I wore nearly every single day. I used to tear holes in the knees of my brand new jeans and then splash bleach on them. I’d wash them so they appeared frayed and for years on end, I’d walk around looking like a freak. So really, the Iron Maiden shirt was fitting. It didn’t look out of place at all, considering the rest of my attire.
I was standing next to my locker in school when a group of what we referred to as burnouts approached me. The lead burnout named Russell (completely different Russell than the friend I mentioned above), with his greasy hair and his filthy jean jacket, grabbed me by the neck and pushed me up against the wall. He put his face against mine and whispered, “Name one song Iron Maiden sings.” I had never listened to Iron Maiden, much less studied their discography, so you can imagine my response. “I don’t know,” I said. To this, Russell replied, “If I catch you wearing this shirt once more, I’m going to kick the shit out of you.” Nuff said. Russell was about twice my size, a grade my senior, and apparently quite sensitive regarding Iron Maiden music. I nodded profusely in agreement and Russell let me go. After all the rest of the burnouts (smoking hoods from the wrong side of the tracks) finished their cackling and laughing, they walked away. I wiped the sweat from my brow and vowed to myself that I’d store that cool new shirt in my dresser at home. At least, for the time being. Perhaps until Russell moved out of town. But looking back now, I don’t recall ever wearing the shirt again and what’s more, I don’t know where it ended up either. It seems as though many of my childhood belongings just up and disappeared, without my knowledge. Mothers – you gotta love ’em. I’m sure she had something to do with everything that mysteriously evaporated.
I’m not sure Russell would get away so easily with threatening me today. While I’m sure he’s tough, I’m not one to back down like I used to. So Russell might enthrall himself in a struggle of sorts if he were to grab me by the neck once more. With this in mind, I’d gladly wear an awesome looking Iron Maiden three-quarter sleeve length concert shirt if given the opportunity. And that’s the moral of today’s story – grow older, train Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, and exude confidence via the internet. Sometimes, that’s all we’ve got.
So there it is, Metallica in concert and a story of an Iron Maiden related fiasco. If you missed the 80s, let me just tell you that these types of things were merely the tip of the iceberg. Weekend after weekend, night after night, stuff in the metal world was happening. It was crazy and it was a time to be alive.
January in Maine is legitimate winter. There are hardly ever any warm days sprinkled in like there might be during November or December. It’s winter. It’s cold. There’s no way around it.
I remember our first winter in the state. That was back in 2013. Sometime during December, the temperature dropped below zero and by the time January rolled around, the forecast called for -18°. At our house, we reached -24°. The deep freeze lasted nearly a month. Oddly enough, such low temperatures didn’t initially feel all too low. The thing is with such cold, it isn’t how cold it feels as soon as you leave the warmth of your home, rather, it’s how quickly you’ll freeze to death if you remain outdoors, unprotected. So it’s the speed of things that matter most in cases such as these.
In our neck of the woods (Farmington), the average high temperature for January is 26° and the low is 4°. That sounds about right. Strangely enough, as cold as it can be, there’s definitely a phenomenon regarding the sunlight. There’s more of it. While December gets downright dark with seemingly a mere few hours of sunlight per day, things begin to brighten up in January. Also, there are plenty of crisp, clear days during the month, which is surprising. Before we moved to Maine, I was resigned to the fact that winters would be dull and dreary forever, but after we arrived, I noticed that the days up north really aren’t that bad. Today, for instance, was lovely. It was about 22° as a high, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Sunny winter days are my favorites, especially after a heavy snowfall.
Speaking of snow, I’d say January and February are the months to count on for that. While December can certainly surprise, the meat of the season occurs during the aforementioned months. And there’s ice as well. So any snow that’s already fallen packs down tightly until it becomes extraordinarily slippery and dangerous. Feet of snow can fall during January and for some weird reason, these feet usually fall on Tuesday nights when I teach Jiu-Jitsu. I know this because it’s been happening for years. It snows, I cancel class, and I feel horrible for the next day and a half due to guilt. Nature likes Tuesdays, that’s for sure.
We’ve got a big, beautiful lake in our town. It’s called Clearwater Lake and it’s allegedly spring fed, which keeps it from freezing if the ambient air temperature isn’t low enough. Usually, a week or two of sub-zero or near to zero temperatures will do the job, but I’ve seen winters when the lake hasn’t frozen over at all. In general though, you’ll enjoy ice fishing or snowmobiling across the western Maine lakes beginning in January.
Finally, I thought I’d discuss the issue of road buckling during January in Maine. With very cold weather comes bumpy roads. Some towns in our area don’t have roads that buckle because said roads were created with proper base layers and drainage, but in my town, yes, the roads are horrible during January, February, and March. Sometimes, if it stays cold enough, the buckles and bumps last all the way into April. Basically, the air needs to warm enough and there needs to be enough sunlight to thaw the saturated soil below that’s decided to freeze and heave. Many roads in rural areas weren’t developed with longevity in mind. Plus, small town budgets can’t cope with the high costs of beautifully laid luxurious roadways. So we suffer every year. But while the bumpy roads discourage yours truly from driving faster than 23 miles per hour, it seems as though the locals don’t mind their cars falling apart. They seemingly couldn’t care in the least. They speed around the area with reckless abandon. So be it. They’re paying the bills.
To sum up, January in Maine is freezing cold and lots of snow falls from the sky.
I do believe I’ve found the Hemingway I’ve been waiting for. While I’m now on page 300 and something of For Whom the Bell Tolls, I marked page 252 because, on it, the writing was stellar. It’s the sort of writing that reminded me of The Road by Cormac McCarthy. By the way, if you enjoy what you read below, please take a look at The Road. It’s one of my top five favorite books of all time. It’s intense, to say the least.
In all that, in the fear that dries your mouth and your throat, in the smashed plaster dust and the sudden panic of a wall falling, collapsing in the flash and roar of a shellburst, clearing the gun, dragging those away who had been serving it, lying face downward and covered with rubble, your head behind the shield working on a stoppage, getting the broken case out, straightening the belt again, you now lying straight behind the shield, the gun searching the roadside again; you did the thing there was to do and knew that you were right. You learned the dry-mouthed, fear-purged, purging ecstasy of battle and you fought that summer and that fall for all the poor in the world, against all tyranny, for all the things that you believed and for the new world you had been educated into. You learned that fall, he thought, how to endure and how to ignore suffering in the long time of cold and wetness, of mud and of digging and fortifying. And the feeling of the summer and the fall was buried deep under tiredness, sleepiness, and nervousness and discomfort. But it was still there and all that you went through only served to validate it. It was in those days, he thought, that you had a deep and sound and selfless pride—that would have made you a bloody bore at Gaylord’s, he thought suddenly.
I’m still not thrilled with this book. While, yes, there have been some sections that were slightly better than just okay, so far, the author seems to have been paid by the word. I tend to have this issue with the classics. They were obviously written during another time and their suspense, nuance, and revelations of the ultimate truth by the end is typically somewhat ho-hum. I read The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas about a decade ago because of all the “Must Read!” reviews and while the ending was cleverly thought out, it certainly wasn’t worth the agony of reading the entire book. Although, I will say that Les Misérables by Victor Hugo and Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert were fun to read. I wouldn’t read either of them again, but there’s a sort of satisfaction one earns by trudging through something that seems as though it should have been listed as a Harvard Classic. Nothing in this post was actually listed there, but the titles I’ve mentioned seem like they should have been. By the way, if you’ve accomplished the Herculean task of completing those readings, God help you. You’ll never get that time back.
I read two pages of For Whom the Bell Tolls last night before my eyelids became so heavy I had to put the book down. It’s annoying when this type of thing happens because I can recall reading many, many pages of books I love. What I’d really like is if people who leave reviews for these books would do so honestly. This is not a “Must Read!” book. Perhaps by its end I’ll change my mind, but so far, it’s just not. If you’d like a list of must read books, just ask and I’ll give you one. But then again, maybe you’re not like me. Perhaps we don’t have the same tastes. Who knows. All I know is that I really did love the quote I displayed above and I’ve got my fingers crossed that there are more of them in the final 180+/- pages I’ve got left.
Guess what we did a few days ago. We visited the Sugarloaf Outdoor Center here in Maine. Why? Because I took Laura out to a birthday lunch at Longfellow’s in Kingfield and the outdoor center is right up the road in Carrabassett. It’s only a 15-20 minute drive farther north on Rt. 27, so I figured, “What the heck. Let’s do it.”
Birthdays are always better if the person celebrating the birthday is taken out for a special day. My goal is to do more of that. The issue with Laura and me is, we’ve been together for a good long time. Activities fall by the wayside. Things become comfortable. “I’m going to take you out someplace fun for your birthday this year,” I’d say. “Okay, that sounds great,” she’d reply. And then the day of, “It’s cool if we just stay in today. It’s kind of windy out there.” And then we both stay in and do exactly what we did the day before, whatever that was. It’s classic and this sort of occurrence takes effort to overcome. So that’s what I did this year – I put in some effort, refused the offer to stay in and we had an interesting time exploring something new and eating a nice lunch. After that, we jogged over to Annie’s for a couple of cups of coffee for the ride home. That’s what I initially wanted – the coffee. They were the impetus behind the entire trip. Everything else was fluff. (Not really.)
This is what we encountered upon entering the outdoor center drive.
Snow Covered Sugarloaf Outdoor Center Drive During the Winter
Talk about a winter wonderland. More on that below.
I checked Google Earth to see what we’d be in store for at the outdoor center. I wasn’t sure where exactly it was located, so I thought it might be helpful to get some sort of a street view to assist. Doing that actually did help. For some reason, my brain sometimes needs this type of support.
A few years ago, a gentleman from either Anson or Emden (I can’t remember which one) visited us at the house. He was interested in us watching his dog for a few days while he was at work. He explained that he was in charge of keeping the ice skating rink cleared of snow and smoothed and ready for skating. Laura and I thought his story was fascinating because we weren’t aware that an ice skating rink even existed at Sugarloaf. The man told us, “Oh yes, it’s located right at the Sugarloaf Outdoor Center,” he said. Which, of course, gave me pause because I wasn’t aware there was an outdoor center either. Just goes to show how much I know. Either way, it took Laura and me three or four years to make it up that way. I thought it’d be neat to check out the rink, the center, and I also wanted to drive through a small neighborhood of mountain cottages. Cottages located at the bases of ski mountains are always very nice to be around, so I thought taking advantage of our time up north doing that would be time well spent. Unfortunately, the destination cottages I had in mind never came to fruition. I missed the road entirely. We did, however, visit an alternate neighborhood, which I’m sure was just as good. Everything else was visited as intended though, which was super cool.
The drive to Sugarloaf was fairly uneventful. The wind was active during the morning hours, but began to fade by the time we passed through Kingfield. As we approached Carrabassett and Sugarloaf though, conditions changed dramatically. It was like we had entered another state entirely. Snow began falling, the winds picked up once again, and the trees were covered with snow left by a previous storm. Needless to say, we were loving it. The scene gave us the ultimate winter vibe. Freezing cold, blustery, and a beautiful base of hard packed snow – covering everything, even the parking lot.
Sugarloaf Outdoor Center Parking Lot
I was reminded of the last time I visited Mount Snow in Vermont. It gets unnervingly frigid up there too.
You already saw the drive into the center. I didn’t take many more photos, but I did manage to grab one of the skating rink.
Sugarloaf Outdoor Center Ice Skating Rink
The rink was closed because of terrible conditions. The aforementioned storm not only dumped snow, but it also dumped rain. Those things coupled with warm and then bitter cold temperatures froze the resulting slush into nearly solid, albeit lumpy and bumpy, ice. The men who were charged with keeping the rink cleared and up to snuff had their hands full. It took multiple days, but they got the job done. A day after we visited, that is.
Sugarloaf Outdoor Center Employees
We visited the interior of the outdoor center and chatted with an employee for about 15 minutes. It was explained to us that there was a retail store available, which sold snow shoes, cross country skis, outdoor clothing, and a few other items. Outside, besides the skating rink, there was an entire trail network available as well. One upon which to use the gear one might purchase inside. Most importantly though, the center offered the most stunning view of Sugarloaf Mountain. The employee led us to the view and Laura and I captured some photos. It’s a shame there was a big snow squall cloud directly in front of the mountain though. We could barely see the trails. Also, just past the birch tree is a frozen, snow covered pond. I’m guessing we would have had better luck with our photography during the autumn.
View of Sugarloaf Mountain From the Outdoor Center
If you squint your eyes and really stare, you can see the trails in the distance, just above the pine trees.
Mountain Trails
Basically, we hung around for a while taking photos and then we left. My stomach was growling and I was ready for lunch. As we headed down the hill from the center though, I snagged one more photo. This is the Adaptive Outdoor Education Center (AOEC) and it encompasses a giant yurt, which is what I was actually taking a photo of.
Sugarloaf Adaptive Outdoor Education Center
People who live in Maine, for some reason, love yurts, so I thought I’d share. If I had the chance, I’d certainly enjoy touring one to see how I like it as well.
After we left, we toured that neighborhood I mentioned above, visited the Carrabassett Animal Hospital (because I had some questions about my cat), drove south to Kingfield, ate lunch, and then visited the gas station (Annie’s) across the street for some coffee. All in all, I’d say the day was a success. Next up, I think we’ll head out to Conway, New Hampshire again. I’m getting a hankering for a nice winter visit to the White Mountains. Until next time!
A few weeks ago, Laura and I decided to re-watch the entirety of Downton Abbey. We adore the series and if memory serves, this latest viewing was her fourth. It was my second. Granted, Laura has been aboard the Downton train since its inception. She, along with my mother, have been avid fans who harken back to the days of 2011 when it initially aired on PBS. I’ll confess that I ignored much of the hubbub. The brouhaha. As my mother filled me in on the show, I secretly thought she was mispronouncing Downtown, as in Downtown Abbey. As it turns out, she was correct and I was incorrect. Downton Abbey is a fictional estate located in Yorkshire County, England (filmed at Highclere Castle). It’s an excellent show, but not one without its drawbacks. It’s those drawbacks I wish to discuss in this post today.
I’m not sure if you’ve ever watched Downton Abbey – if you haven’t, just know that it’s based in England and many of the characters are “high society.” While I’m currently thinking of a few as I write this post, I’m primarily thinking of one – Mary. Her character was the highest of all society sounding and as I used to relax and watch the show, she’s the one I’d become the most annoyed with. Sometimes Lord Grantham as well, but really, I should’ve been annoyed with the writers of the show because Mary et al were simply following their lines. The writing befuddled me – why did the writers dumb things down so much? I used to tell Laura it was because of the American audience as they might not appreciate pretentious sounding speech, which didn’t make much sense. First, the show aired in Britain before it did the United States, and second, there’s nothing wrong with having the characters speak with language that offered a bit more formality, as I’m certain the way language was spoken during the late 1800s and early 1900s. And by “formality,” I mean, not so stupid sounding. Instead of, “When did you get here?” you’d say, “When did you arrive?” It’s mostly a vocabulary thing. I actually used the more formal sounding, “speak with language,” a few lines above as opposed to “talk with words.” Can you imagine me writing a post and using a sentence that reads, “People should really talk with words that are better”? What would you think of me?
Matthew Meets Mary For The First Time | Downton Abbey
Because I’m me and because I enjoy sharing with you thoughts that are annoying, I figured I’d discuss just a few simple words that can be easily replaced in anyone’s vocabulary right this moment. By enhancing a person’s vocabulary, that person will present better, sound more intelligent, and hold more credibility when having credibility matters most, e.g., asking for someone’s hand in marriage, being interviewed for a job, teaching students at a university. There are obviously additional instances when sounding intelligent and exhibiting credibility matters, but off the top of my head, the examples I gave are just fine. Simply put, a person shouldn’t sound basic if it can at all be helped.
Let me begin by linking to a page that offers some excellent information that describes informal vs. formal verbs, transitions, emphasis words, letter expressions, abbreviations, and slang. If you’re over the age of 18, you’ll want to review this page. It’ll assist with your maturing and with your enjoying the fruits of those scenarios I described above (credibility, etc…).
Next, I’ll take some of the information from the page I just linked to and turn it into readable and easily understood examples. My hope is that you’ll come to appreciate a more educated and formal sounding repertoire as it pertains to your speech. I’ll randomly pull from the list on the page.
Go Up/Down vs. Increase/Decrease
Informal These prices really went up a lot lately. I think they should go back down to make people happy.
Formal These prices have increased a lot lately. I think they should decrease once again to make people happy.
As you can see, it doesn’t take much to sound slightly more elegant when speaking. Don’t say things like, “The level went up.” Instead, say, “The level has increased.” Right? Or am I just crazy?
Doubt vs. Suspect
Informal I doubt that politician is telling us the truth.
Formal I suspect that politician is hiding the actual facts from us. Or I have strong suspicions that the politician is hiding the facts from us.
I use suspect so much more often than I use doubt or any other word that might be somewhat appropriate in cases such as these. Suspect clearly has a better sound to it. It’s a more descriptive word. Also, can you tell how you’d likely use the sentence with doubt in it when speaking with friends or family, but when out in public, you might want to consider using the sentences containing suspect or suspicions?
Put Up vs. Tolerate
Informal If you put up with this, your children will be next.
Formal If you tolerate this, your children will be next.
The line above is actually the name of a song written by the Manic Street Preachers. Put up is probably the most informal phrase out there. And besides being informal and terrible sounding, it’s got far too many meanings. Tolerate, on the other hand, sounds nice and is more succinct.
Watch the song in its entirety. I think you’ll enjoy it. It begins slowly, but picks up about half way through.
Manic Street Preachers – If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next
But vs. However
Informal I like her a lot, but she smells horrible.
Formal I like her a lot, however, she smells horrible.
Using the word however will truly set you apart from everyone who doesn’t have the inclination to use such a word. I’m guessing you don’t hear it in usage all too often. That’s a good thing because if everyone used it, we wouldn’t have the chance to shine like we do, or plan on doing.
Also vs. In Addition
Informal I attended a community college when I was younger. Also, I attended a university.
Formal I attended a community college when I was younger. In addition, I attended a university.
I can’t imagine anyone speaking to a friend like this, but it sure would be fun to try. Use in addition when speaking in front of a crowd or when writing a letter. Or, I suppose, when trying to make a political or economic point while arguing with those who are on the other side.
Bad/Good vs. Negative/Positive
Informal I wasn’t expecting such a bad response. In the future, I’ll be looking for something good.
Formal I wasn’t expecting such a negative response. In the future, I’ll be looking for something much more positive.
Do you know who uses the words good and bad in their vocabulary? Kids in grade school. And that’s because they don’t know any better. Admittedly, I’ll use those words while speaking ultra casually with friends (on the mean streets of Maine), but really, anything is better than stooping to that level. Find something – awful, horrible, terrible, great, perfect, wonderful. Anything. Imagine Mary (the Earl of Grantham’s daughter) from Downton Abbey uttering something such as, “Well, that’s just bad!” Wouldn’t you prefer hearing something like, “Well, that’s simply abominable!” I mean, c’mon.
Right/Wrong vs. Correct/Incorrect
Informal Yes, that’s the right answer. I’m happy to see you’ve cleared the hurdle of being so wrong all the time.
Formal Yes, that’s the correct answer. I’m happy to see you’ve cleared the hurdle of being so incorrect all the time.
This is something we as a world need to move past. Gone are the days of saying things like, “Yes, you’re right!” The reason being is that right is a very basic word that provokes little interest and intrigue. The same with the word wrong. In addition, both of these words offer multiple meanings which adds risk to their usage. Less risky and more intriguing (and more precise) alternatives are correct and incorrect.
Smart vs. Intelligent
Informal If he was such a smart student, he would have earned an A!
Formal If he was such an intelligent student, he would have earned an A!
Back when I was attending high school, I’d say things like, “Yeah, my friend is really smart. Smarter than me.” Today? I say things like, “Yeah, my friend is super intelligent. Much more intelligent than I am.” Notice the “I am” at the end of the second sentence as opposed to “me.” Think about that for a moment. Read the sentences over again and consider why I changed what I had initially written.
Smart is far too common of a word to use in everyday language. “Hey smarty pants!”“Boy, that’s a smart suit!”“My legs were smarting this afternoon.”“Does your son have the smarts for it?”“I had a smart shooting pain up my arm earlier today.”“If you pay up smart, you won’t have to worry about it anymore.” Do you see how using the word smart isn’t all that smart of a choice? It can be confusing and if your goal is to be understood easily and to sound like you attended a private school in Connecticut, go ahead with intelligent.
Hard vs. Difficult/Challenging
Informal I find it very hard to complete this task. Or I find this task very hard.
Formal I find it very difficult to complete this task. Or I find this task very challenging.
I complain about people using the word hard the most. It was overly common in Downton Abbey and I have no idea why the writers of the show included it so frequently. It’s such a stupid word. First off, when saying hard, most people say it in such a way as to be ambiguous. If you read the sentence, “I find this task very hard,” what does that even mean? That the task is physically hard, like you can knock on it? Like it’s a nut? Or does it mean that the task is challenging? I think it’s best to swap out hard for either difficult or challenging. I know it’s tough, but it’s a must. And believe me, I find myself correcting myself all day long when attempting to sound a little less rough around the edges, so don’t feel too bad when you realize you’ve been more informal than you’d like.
This was one of those posts where I’m sure I unintentionally came off as a huge jerk. The goal with using an expansive vocabulary and replacing informal words with more formal ones, especially when writing and public speaking, isn’t to sound pretentious, but to elevate your correspondence and discussions to such a degree as to evoke a marked recognition. It’s also something that may help our entire culture. If you haven’t noticed, things in this world are dumbing down at a rapid pace. If you were a person who were to care about such a thing, why not be part of the solution? Speak with eloquence at any chance you get. Make your speech infectious. Converse with friends, family, and colleagues and watch as they begin incorporating formality in their own speech. Not only will you be helping yourself and your “crew,” you’ll be helping make the world a better place.
Again though, please take a look at the big list of potential vocabulary to see what the cool kids are using.
Throughout my life, I’ve encountered so, so many people who’ve moved to the southern United States to escape the cold weather and snow of the north. You must remember, I grew up in New York, a state most residents incessantly complain about and want to eventually leave. And being from New York, these people don’t necessarily desire a repeat of cold, snow, dirty roads, and expensive real estate. So they move to North Carolina, South Carolina, and Florida. It’s just a thing. I get it, but really, I don’t. I suppose some people are into an easier way of life. One where they don’t have to deal with things. For me though, I enjoy the struggle of it all. The discussions of the impending snow fall. The talk of some Joe right up over the hill who’s stuck in four feet of snow in a gully, without a prayer in the world. The driving around in the bitter cold in an attempt at finding the best cup of coffee. You can’t do these things in 80° heat.
You know what else you can’t do in 80° heat? You can’t go snow hiking in the middle of nowhere while simultaneously enjoying the fact that there’s not an insect to be found. You have to actually think about this one; it’s not self-evident. It takes a pause to recognize that you are, in fact, hiking through a forest, walking across a frozen lake, trekking along a snow covered dirt road or some field – and yes, the last bug you’ve seen was months ago. Once you realize this little tidbit of fact, your day will be that much brighter. And then you’ll begin freaking out because you’ll realize that spring is right around the corner.
Laura and I strolled our forest a few days ago, as we do every morning. Ever since we purchased the parcel next door and after I cut a beautiful network of trails, our walking, talking, and soaking it all in has become a tradition I wouldn’t trade for the world. Winter is perfect for these walks, but therein lies the problem. Or, part of the problem. While the winter months are great for hiking around the thick, the summer months are just awful. Between the humidity and the blood-sucking insects, we don’t even try to go out there. It’s such a shame too because most people consider the summer months to be the finest in Maine. If these people were being honest with themselves though, they’d agree that the months of October, November, April, and May are simply stellar. The rest? Well, I’ve got a serious issue with June, July, and August, and others would most likely endeavor to avoid December, January, and February. I don’t know why though. After all, if a person isn’t into the winter and all it’s got to offer, there’s some serious curiosity circling around the question of why they’re living in northern New England. We went for a walk in the snow up our road today. It was lovely. The cloudy skies, while normally dismal, gray, and oppressive feeling, were somehow settling and, dare I say, inspiring. Perhaps it had to do with the fog crawling across the snow. I’m not sure, but it was a worthwhile walk. We’re trying to get back out there after a short hiatus. I can’t recall at the moment why we stopped, but the hiatus lasted a few weeks. We’re now back at it.
Anyway, back to my story. It’s a quick one. As Laura and I were heading back inside from our aforementioned stroll, she said to me, “Do you know what I just realized we’re not seeing any of?” I replied, “What?”“Flies,” she responded. And just from that quick exchange, I decided to write this post. That’s the beauty of blogging. I get to come up with these ideas, really, out of thin air. It’s a good hobby for me. Succinctly put, when the flying insects are hibernating, humans are at liberty to enjoy the outdoors all that much more. And that’s a good thing.
It snowed about an inch last night and since the temperatures were above freezing, the bottom half inch is slush. I shoveled the sidewalk, but haven’t touched the driveway. I’m thinking that if I ignore it long enough, all that snow and slush will just disappear. In reality, I don’t think that’ll happen. Tomorrow morning, after the debacle has frozen solid tonight, I’ll head out there and sand the heck out of everything. I suppose this is why those folks I mentioned above move out of Maine and the rest of New England. To get away from things like this. I’m not sure what they’d do to replace these types of activities, but to each his own, I suppose.
Happy New Year. I wish you the brightest and most prosperous 2025 you can imagine. Have a great night.
It wasn’t until moving to Maine that I experienced what many refer to as chilblains. I did a bit of searching around and I believe these things are also called pernio. Have you ever had chilblains? I’m sure you have. If you live in the north and if you’ve ever walked around outside during the winter in Crocs or cold boots with no socks on, I’m certain of it.
Chilblains isn’t (or aren’t) some weird disease. It’s a sort of frostbite people get when they expose their toes, fingertips, nose, and other sensitive parts of their bodies to the cold and then, quickly, the warmth. If you ask around, you’ll find a very specific set of circumstances that need to occur in sequence in order for this ailment to appear. For me, all that needs to occur is for me to be walking around the house with no socks on during the winter, exit the main house into the vestibule, slip off my warm Crocs and on my cold ones, and then wander around in the snow for a bit to grab either some firewood or the mail. Anything, really. What triggers the chain reaction is my feet transitioning from something warm to cold (the change of shoes). And after that, very cold (the snow). If that’s all that were to happen, things may be fine, but no, I always need to complete the job. After my toes have frozen, I’ll reverse the order. I’ll remove my feet from the snow-covered Crocs and place them back into the semi-warm ones I had left behind earlier. Then, I’ll walk back inside to wiggle my naked toes near the wood stove that’s cooking nice and hot. Mission accomplished – chilblains will be sure to follow.
Simply put, chilblains form because of the warm to cold and back to warm transitions. It’s got something to do with blood vessels or the like.
A day or two after I do all these things, my toes will begin itching like mad. In Laura’s case, her toes will begin aching quite a bit. Her pain keeps her up at night while my itching is a mere nuisance. Another day or two, everything goes away and I remind myself to avoid walking around outside wearing only Crocs during the winter. I suppose if I had the ones that didn’t sport the big air holes in them I’d be fine, but I don’t. I own a pair of “outside” ones that I’ve been using for over 15 years. They’ve now earned themselves a wear hole at the bottom too, so I’ll likely throw them in the trash soon.
They say that chilblains, or perniosis, primarily afflicts those who are sensitive to the cold or those who have poor circulation. They also say that people who have an iron deficiency can suffer from them. I have neither, but my actions are oftentimes obnoxiously careless, so I’m deserving. Other folks who aren’t nearly obnoxious with their actions are the ones we should feel bad for. Imagine your toes aching to the point of tears, all from something you really had nothing to do with.
I’ve read that rubbing the toes with Vicks Vapor Rub can help because it’ll increase blood circulation where it’s needed most. Laura says that soaking her feet in warm water with peroxide does the trick. I have no idea of the ratio or why that would help, but she seems to swear by it. The goal for us really is to wear socks throughout the day as responsible adults would and to avoid running around outside, “just for a second” with freezing cold shoes on. If we want to quickly run around outside, warm the shoes up inside first. Seems simple enough.
Reading For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway has taken longer than expected. It’s been a slog, to say the least. As I’ve mentioned dozens of times, if I love a book, I’ll read chapters each night. If it hasn’t exactly picked up yet, I’ll read a page or two and fall asleep doing so. Apparently, evidenced by my falling asleep so quickly after opening this one, I’d say it’s yet to pick up. I’m hoping it will. I’m more than halfway through so something’s bound to happen. I mean, it’s just got to happen, right?
I’d like to take a moment to mention a few thoughts that’ve occurred to me while reading. Sometimes while doing so, if I pass by something worth remembering, I’ll save the quote, or whatever it is, for later. In this case, it was a quote and just as it happens, it’s somehow cleverly woven itself into my reality. Quite fittingly for the author at hand, the subject is: love and death.
Please read what I discovered on page 175:
“Then they were walking along the stream together and he said, ‘Maria, I love thee and thou art so lovely and so wonderful and so beautiful and it does such things to me to be with thee that I feel as though I wanted to die when I am loving thee.‘”
A friend of mine recently lost her husband of 60 years. The two met when they were teenagers and spent the remainder of his life together. As she described him to me, he was the light of her being. He was her soulmate. He was the first and only man she had ever loved and to lose him was to lose part of herself. As I spoke to this woman, I realized something beautiful, yet utterly disturbing. I learned that, as Ernest Hemingway so famously stated, “If two people love each other, there can be no happy end to it.” As strikingly and unnervingly true as the statement is, it somehow leaves my perception of love in somewhat of a shambles. It’s just that…there are a few aspects of the subject I had yet to consider. I feel slightly odd discussing any of this here because I’m a mere onlooker and far be it for me to insert myself into someone else’s grief, but I suppose I do have opinions and since I’m sharing my thoughts on the topic now, it’s somehow appropriate that I write about them as best I can.
Up until this point of my life, I’ve thought that the harder I love someone, the more satisfied and rewarded I’ll ultimately become. That I’ll somehow intertwine with another person to realize some sort of oneness with them. The issue with what I had initially (up to very recently) considered, or perhaps more succinctly put, perceived or believed, is that the harder I love someone, the harder I’ll fall if and when they one day disappear. Alfred, Lord Tennyson once so thoughtfully stated in his poem In Memoriam A. H. H.:
I hold it true, whate’er befall; I feel it, when I sorrow most; ‘Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all.
If you’ve ever dismissed poetry as being trivial, I encourage you to, at the very least, glance at this poem. It’ll enlighten you to the art, to say the least.
Alfred Tennyson’s best friend died at the age of 22. For the next 17 years, Lord Tennyson crafted a poem as a tribute to his friend. I suppose the writing of the poem was somehow responsible for the processing of the author’s grief, because by the end of it, it was concluded that, “…he found hope in the notion that love itself is a miracle. And it’s worth every moment of pain-filled loss.”
As I type this post, I’m realizing that I can go on and on about this topic much longer, or farther, or deeper than I really had ever intended. I’m not actually sure what my initial goal of it all was, beyond sharing the quote with you about love. As I was typing and thinking, I began looking around for the poet who authored the “loved and lost” quote and now I find that I’m crawling down a rabbit hole, one which I never intended to crawl. I wonder if I should leave this post here or if I should continue writing. Read on below to find out.
In the book, Hemingway describes a blossoming love between the main character, Robert Jordan, and a secondary character, Maria. As you’ve seen from the quote above by Robert Jordan, he’s completely fallen for her. She’s fallen for Robert as well and as far as I can tell, the two will find themselves in as deep a love as my two friends in real life found themselves. My friend has been suffering through intense grief for the past month and it’s left me asking questions similar to the ones Alfred Tennyson asked himself; whether it’s worth it to put the effort into someone else only to have each and every emotion you’ve ever shared with them torn from you, all at once. It’s likely I’ll conclude it is, just as Lord Tennyson concluded – I mean, what am I to do at this point? Give up on the entire thing? That’s not rational and it’s likely not even emotionally feasible.
Robert Jordan and Maria, however, are at the precipice of delving into something that’s nearly impossible to stop; if they were to continue walking down their path, without the knowledge or consideration of what’s to come, they’ll certainly find themselves asking the very same questions nearly everyone who’s found true love has asked themselves. Simply put: Is it better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all? If we, or they, were to put any trust at all into the struggles and contemplation endured by Alfred Tennyson, I’m certain they’d face the risk.
I better get on with this post as December is nearly at its end. As I sit here and type, a bitter cold breeze is blowing. What we’re experiencing right now is a far cry from what we experienced at the beginning of the month. This year, December came in like a lamb and will go out like a lion.
Anything can happen during December in Maine. Two years ago, the temperature was nearly 70° on Christmas. Needless to say, we didn’t enjoy a white holiday that year. A few years before that one, the temperature was below 0° on Christmas. So yes, while the final third of December is technically winter, wide variations in temperature and precipitation can exist.
This year, December began just fine. As the month progressed, we experienced a few snowfalls, but they were generally to be expected. I’d say things were pretty average with the temperatures just above normal by a few degrees.
A few days ago, Mother Nature decided to play a joke on us out here in the sticks. She dropped the temps from a balmy 30° to a downright chilly 0°. As I was driving down the road yesterday morning at 7:30, I read my car’s dashboard. It told me the outside air was -4°. It was noticeably cold! If you don’t think there’s a difference between how easily a person can survive and how quickly a person can freeze to death within the range of the two conditions I just described above, I can tell you that you’re wrong. There is a difference and the closer you get to zero, the faster your potential of freezing solid. Cold is a legit threat.
So far, I’d estimate this season’s snowfall to be around 24″. Maybe a bit more. By this point, I’ve lost count of how many storms we’ve had, but there have been a few – an eight incher, a six incher, another six incher, and some minor stragglers. Just this morning, we woke up to approximately six inches of luscious powder that my snow blower didn’t argue with at all. After I cleared the driveway, I returned indoors to tell Laura that, “This snow is what snow blower advertisers use to show off what their machines can do. Perfect fluffy, dry powder. Such an easy job.” It was like the kind of snow a person can walk normally through, without lifting their legs. It was so light that I simply kicked while trudging to the garage and the snow easily puffed away from me. Very good skiing snow, I can imagine.
Basically, December in western Maine can offer a varied experience to begin with, but the closer the days make their way to January, the more fierce the weather usually is. There’s really no way around it. Laura and I have been living in our area since 2013 and we’ve yet to experience a warm January. Just as July is hot and sticky, guaranteed, January is bitter cold and full of snow. If you enjoy skiing, snowmobiling, and ice fishing, western Maine during December/January/February is where you want to be.
