The Sports Edition

This being a census year, I thought that I might offer up a few thoughts on the subject of populace enumeration and demographic trends.

The U.S. population is on the move, following careers, industries and all sorts of other things, and its wreaking all sorts of havoc on the territorial norms and local folkways of our dear country.Congressional districts and states that were once reliably in one party column or the other now find them selves changing hands in a whirlpool of colors. Once dependably red or blue areas now appear as purple on those political maps that appear in Time Magazine.Likewise, regions that were once mono-lingual are finding themselves tasked with finding second language speakers in their court, city and educational systems. Second and third languages are now popping up on road signs, menus and bathroom doors.

This is not even to mention the change in pop culture trends from one quarter of our country to the other.For instance, I attended a Country Music concert this fall, (courtesy of my good friend Jon, Im not sure Id ever willingly pay for a ticket) and under a cold clear New Hampshire sky I heard a large crowd sing along with Alan Jacksons hit song Small Town Southern Man. (With the last chorus changed Simpsons style to small town New Hampshire man)

But all of this geographic tomfoolery pales in comparison with the troubling fact that I can now (if I was so inclined) purchase a New York Yankees baseball cap in many stores in my area.How and when did this happen?All this migration has led to a muddling of sports loyalties, and its now possible to see a Pittsburgh Steelers team flag flying from a house in my in-laws Lowell Massachusetts neighborhood.

Forty years ago it would have been unthinkable to meet a local Yankees fan, but I can now count on two hands the friends I have that bleed pinstripes and dress their children in A-rod jerseys and Got Melky t- shirts.This migration of fans has been noted by the marketing department of my beloved Boston Red Sox and pitched as The Red Sox Nation with a nod to the exodus of Sox fans to all parts of the globe. So its safe to assume that in some neighborhood in the Los Angeles area there is a house with a Red Sox flag flying proudly from the front door.

The sports fan scene gets even more jumbled at my church. Our youth pastor is a Chicago Bears football fan (the self same Bears who beat up on our beloved New England Patriots in the Super Bowl back in 86) and of the men on our board of elders, one is a Chicago White Sox baseball fan (the first one I have ever met) and another proudly wears his vintage Hartford Whalers hockey jacket.And speaking of migrations, I dont have the heart to tell him that the Whalers have now moved to North Carolina and are now called the Hurricanes.

Wait, a professional hockey team south of the Mason Dixon Line?

Yes, and the recently won the Stanley Cup. (Hockeys championship trophy)It gets worse.

They beat a team from Canada.

Somewhere Lord Stanley (a Canadian Prime Minister and the giver of the first championship cup one hundred years ago) is turning over in his grave.

We live in confusing times indeed.And after all this regional extrapolation, I have to ask myself this question; is this the melting pot that our founding fathers envisioned?

After all, wasnt our first president himself a fan of football's Washington Redskins?

If you hail from the great state of Texas you are known as a "Texan". If you are from the upper peninsula of Michigan you are called a "Yooper". A person from Ohio is a "Buckeye" and a native of Costa Rica is festively called a "Tico". If you are from New Zealand you could be called a "Kiwi" and if you have the fortune to have been born in Australia you are known as an "Ozzie". If you come from Massachusetts...okay, we won't go there. Some states and regions have the luxury of simply adding an "er" to the end of the state name and having a nomenclature that is immediately recognizable and descriptive. (It's okay, he's a "New Yorker" or he was a quiet "Mainer") And, to a Southerner (there it is again) anybody from above the Mason-Dixon line is automatically a "Yankee". (Sorry Red Sox fans)

We in the tradition rich, historical state of New Hampshire have yet to come up with a distinctive,descriptive nickname that sticks.Oh, there have been candidates here and there. Let's examine them shall we?

There is the obvious play on the states official nickname, a "Granite Stater", and while this has been perhaps descriptively accurate (describing folks who have traditionally been stoic and independent) it has for some reason failed to catch on, popularly speaking.I recently saw the term "New Hampshireman" in print for the first time and it occurred to me that it's limited usage is perhaps related to the "man" at the end of the word.

As of the writing this column the state has a pretty high female population, including my lovely wife who would perhaps object to this somewhat outdated moniker.What about "New Hampshireite" you say?To this I would respond that "New Hampshireite" is not only difficult to say, but it sounds vaguely like an alien race on Star Trek.

So yours truly has spent many a fortnight in my basement laboratory coming up with a solution to this lack-of-a-sobriquet crisis, and I am ready to submit my proposal.

"Hamper".

It's witty, easy to say and with it's slightly whimsical flair it casts the state in a new light. New Hampshire has a pretty healthy tourist population these days, thanks to our beautiful foliage, great skiing and early presidential primary, so to promote ourselves as fun loving would be a coup for the state's tourism board.Also, it looks great on a t-shirt.I know, I know. Change is hard. So I suggest working the term into your vocabulary slowly to get a handle on it. You could, for instance, start referring to our Governor (respectfully of course) as the "Head Hamper", or calling all that weekend traffic going north on Rt. 93 "Hamper Holiday" traffic.This will take time and determination, so steady yourself. But, remember, future generations of Hampers are depending on you.

So, if you would help me out with promoting this new handle around the state that would make me one happy Hamper.

Diego, Snugly Cat By Winter, Ivan The Terrible By Summer

There is so much potential guilt to feel as a parent, and so many people and things willing to help you in triggering it. (My child isn't walking as soon as the other kids his age. Perhaps we should have shelled out the hundred bucks for the Baby Einstein CD/DVD development package or the intensive walking/baby yoga class that was offered at the gym last month?)

So much guilt, so little time to fit in all in.

But what if the object of your guilt as a parent is not in fact your children, but your beloved, genteel, lovable, cuddly cat?I'm not sure where my wife and I went wrong with Diego, but something has changed lately.

We adopted Diego from a Humane Society as a young kitten and he immediately warmed up to us, our friends, our enemies and just about anyone else who would give him a second of consideration. He was, in fact, so loving that the shelter folks named him Don Juan after the famous Latin lover. We renamed him Diego after the Mexican muralist and renowned lover of women, Diego Rivera. This name also fit because both the cat and the painter have been blessed with ample girth around the middle.The first few years of life together were blissful and tranquil. Diego would sit out on the fire escape of our second story apartment and sun himself while looking longingly over the fields and wooded areas of our small New Hampshire town. I would sometimes take him for a walk on a leash (yes they actually make them for cats) when the guilt would overtake me. This guilt, it has to be said, was mostly caused by my younger brother's animal rights inspired comment "there is no such thing as an indoor animal!"

So it was to Diego's great joy that when the family grew by two small children we moved into an old farmhouse with woods and open spaces galore.This is when the great change came about. Diego the lover became Ivan the Terrible to the local "critter" population. Gone was our fluffy bundle of love and in his place was the angel of death.Where did we go wrong? Was it the generic cat food? Was it the week that we were away? Was it the new baby?

A wise man I know recently said to me, concerning pets, that "It's ironic that we lavish so much attention and love on our pets when the fact is that if they were bigger than us they would eat us."I never would have believed that Diego, my lovable goof of a cat, was capable of hurting anything.

And then the snow melted.

This is Diego's first summer as a full fledged outdoor cat, and he has faithfully brought us a present every morning. But it isn't so much the volume of critters that's concerning us, as it is the variety. (And should I be worried that he's keeping track of his kills fighter pilot style with x's on the side of his food dish?) I thought that we had seen it all, what with the moles, mice, birds, frogs, chipmunks and snakes greeting us on the porch each morning.

But it has been the live creatures that have been most problematic and worrisome to us lately.

For instance, this week saw the delivery of a live chipmunk (which played out like a summer block buster movie in our house, complete with a breathless chase scene through the various rooms and ended with an amazing, Matrix style, slow motion, scoop-up-with-a-dustpan-flick-out-the-open-window- onto-the-lawn diving move by yours truly) and a live snake that was dropped onto my feet just yesterday as I was washing the dishes and listening to the new Bob Dylan album at top volume. (I was glad my wife and two daughters were not home to hear the man of the house let out a high pitched scream of terror.)

We are all hoping (both my family and the community of neighborhood creatures who are currently holding a rally on my front steps, complete with picket signs and a burning cat effigy) that the return of colder weather will temper the fire in Diego's blood, and return him to the formerly docile pet that we have known.

I guess we shall find out this coming winter. (Snakes hibernate, right?)

A Pain In My Funny Bone

I think that after nearly thirty-three years, the joints of my body have finally organized, unionized and held a meeting.The minutes of that meeting were recently sent to my brain via my spinal column, and below are a few excerpts:

Lower Back: "Okay everyone, lets get this meeting to order. There is a draft of a resolution on floor right now sponsored by myself, Right Knee, Left Shoulder and Right Elbow. Right Knee, would you care to sum up the resolution for us?"

Right Knee: "Sure thing L.B.! Basically the situation we have here in Tincan's body is that a few of us joints bear the responsibility for all the pain that gets experienced, and, well, frankly we think that the rest of the joints of the body should start pulling their weight and share in some of the pain."

Left Shoulder: "That's right man, preach it!"

Right Elbow: "You tell 'em Right Knee!"

Right Knee: "All right fellows, simmer down. Where was I? Oh right, a schedule. What we propose is that every joint be scheduled for a little pain every day on a rotating basis, thus giving a few of us some needed (no pun intended) down time."

Left Hip: "But won't Tincan be suspicious when he wakes up with aches and pains in places where he's never had them beore?"

Right Knee: "Well, we've considered that, and we came to the conclusion that since the brain is also going on this body, this is the perfect time to act. Tincan won't know what's going on."Lower Back: "We know it's a bit of a gamble, but we feel that the current situation can't go on like this."

Left Shoulder: "Yeah, I've been in pain since the great soccer injury of '93!"

Right Wrist: "Hey, if this resolution passes, who's scheduled for pain tomorrow?"

Right Knee: "Let's see here, it says that Left Big Toe is the first one up to bat."

Right Ankle: "Hey, Tincan's birthday is coming up soon. We should do something special. Who's on duty that day?"

Right Knee: "That would be...let me just flip the page here...okay, here it is, both Thumbs!"

Thumbs: "Oh boy!"

Lower Back: "So that's the vote before us folks. Are we going to be a team here or what? "Who votes "yes" on Resolution O.U.C.H.?"

All joints in unison: "Aye!"


I can't wait for my birthday next month.Does anyone have any Motrin?

The Exhausted Comedian

Having been somewhat exhausted lately, I've been finding it hard to summon the energy it takes to be funny. (And indeed, some would say I've never summoned the energy it takes to be funny)

But I digress, what was I talking about again?

Oh yeah, exhaustion and comedy.

This has got me wondering "are my comedian heroes, the funnymen I grew up idolizing, ever too tired to be funny?"

Let's investigate, shall we?

The scene is New York City in November.

Reporter: "Mr. Jerry Seinfeld, you've just finished the New York City Marathon, say something funny for our TV audience out there"
Seinfeld: (Breathing heavily and bent over with exhaustion) "What...is the deal...with pot holes? There's no pots out there... just...holes!"

Or what about that dad of all dads and funny man extrodinare Bill Cosby?

The scene takes place in a hospital room at Philadelphia's world renown Friend's Hospital.

Reporter: (Speaking to a groggy, anesthetized Bill Cosby) "Mr. Cosby, you've just come out intensive open heart surgery, say something funny for our viewers out there."
Cosby: "Jello Pudding Pops!"
Reporter: "What was that Mr. Cosby?"
Cosby (Grabbing the reporter by the collar and pulling him in close) "I...want...a...Jello...Pudding...Pop!"
Reporter: (Yelling somewhat desperately to the nurses station) "Can someone get Mr. Cosby a pudding pop please!"

Or what about my personal favorite funny man, Robin Williams? Might we be able to conjure up a scenario where this master of improv comedy might not be funny?

The scene is an airport runway where a beleaguered and very sunburnt Robin Williams is exiting an airplane and facing a crowd of rowdy, cheering fans and the media.

Reporter: "Mr. Williams, you just survived a plane crash and six months on a deserted desert island, do you have anything funny to say to all your fans out there?"
Robin Williams: (Grabbing the microphone out of the reporter's hand) "Woooooooweee, it's good to be back! I've lost so much weight I think I can qualify as a carry on item! When I first crashed on the island it was so deserted it was like a health food store on Fat Tuesday! Then a tribe of cannibals showed up and invited me for dinner, and it was like the time I ate at the Kennedy's house! I was like "mmm, needs barbecue sauce!" Then the British Navy rescued me and it was like (assuming a thick British accent) "Mr. Williams, are you all right? Would you like a spot of tea and a cracker!" And I said "cracker, cracker! Don't even get me started...

Okay, so Robin Williams could be funny anywhere.Thanks folks, for taking a slight diversion with me this time out. After a week or so I should be back in fighting shape.

So make sure to get some sleep and take those vitamins.

- Tincan

The Bright Side of 28 Days of Rain

"Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side"

- The Carter Family

Okay, so the National Weather Service is located in Gray, Maine.This has got to change.I'm no psychology expert, but there has got to be an effect on the general public when they hear the words "national", "weather" and "gray" over and over again in the same sentence. (I know the spelling of "grey" is different than the town name, "Gray", but spelling is not a factor when you're hearing the weather report on the radio)

So I hereby propose that the National Weather Service be relocated to Sunnyvale, California. Who is with me?

Having said that, I offer an attempt to look at the bright side (in the spirit of the above mentioned Carter Family, who wrote that song in the midst of the Great Depression) of all this moisture that has fallen on us here in the Northeast the last month. (The sixth rainiest June since those folks in Gray started keeping track of such things)

1. Lost Weight: The sugar in my sugar bowl/dispenser has congealed into one solid lump on account of the great moisture in the air. This inability to sweeten food and drink in my home has resulted in the loss of a few pounds by yours truly.

2. Great Savings: I have saved a bundle on the following items; Sunscreen, air conditioning, new summer clothing for my kids, and those pesky fees to watch baseball games or outdoor concerts. Also, speaking of sunscreen...

3. Skin Cancer Prevention: Who could be upset with warding off skin cancer for at least a month? This is especially important for folks like me who have a little more exposed real estate up top. (If you know what I mean)

4. Low Motor Cycle Accident Rate: Follow my train of thought just a minute here; rain equals less motorcycles on the road, less motorcycles mean less motorcycle accidents. Voila!

5. Good For Hollywood Blockbusters: Do you honestly think that an awful movie like Transformers 2 (or whatever goofy title it's going by) would have made as much moolah if folks had been able to choose between it and say, anything outdoors?

6. Easy Small Talk Subject: "Hey, how about all this rain?" "Yeah, sure is crazy!"

7. Lawn Care: Thanks to all this rain the formerly bare spots on my lawn have finally grown in. What formerly looked like patches of the Sahara now resemble the Amazon Basin. In fact, I think that a venus flytrap just got one of my cats.

8. Record Profits For Weather.Com: Record traffic for the site must mean record profits from advertising dollars.

9. Low Environmental Impact: This one is from my friend Nancy. Fewer outdoor parties equal less propane used. Who could argue with this?

10. I got a column out of it: Thanks folks.

Stay dry out there,

Tincan

The last 100 Days of Bobby Greenpants

The great state of New Hampshire is dotted with many storied boarding schools that have great traditions and who turn out some of the finest students in the world.

One such institution, Rumbling Meadows Academy in beautiful Conifer, New Hampshire has a tradition of requiring their graduating seniors to keep a journal of their last one hundred days as a student, starting with a fine celebratory dinner in the late winter to kick off the count down to graduation.

A memorable student of this year's class, Bobby Greenpants (Robert Forest Greenpants III) has submitted his journal to Live Free On Rye for posterity and has graciously allowed us to print a few select entries. (Mostly, it seems,with hopes of impressing a certain Miss Jenny Parker)Bobby will be a freshman wrestler and lacrosse player this coming fall at the University of New Hampshire's Winnasaugie campus, and we wish him the best of luck.

Please note that the poor behavior cited here is not an endorsement of such acts, but serves to illustrate how one student grew during his time at Rumbling Meadows Academy.

Day 100: Gave triumphant speech at the Hundred Days Dinner tonight. I know that they took a chance with letting me speak, but I think that I rewarded their confidence by skipping my written comments and throwing it down with my mad lyrical skillz. I thought about sticking in a few profanities in the middle of the verse about formal dinner, but I decided that with all those trustee guys there I shouldn't. My advisor says I made a good decision. Rock!

Day 87: There is still snow on the ground, so today I finally made my move on Jenny Parker. I've liked her since sophomore year and today I let her know it by showing off my fastball and hitting a freshman with a snowball. She seemed upset. Need to talk to advisor again. Day 65: Today was our first lacrosse game of the season. It was an away game in Vermont and I totally bonked out and forgot the shaft of my lacrosse stick in my room. It's metal, so I was trying to use it as an antenna for my TV so that I could watch the Red Sox game. Anyway, I found a broom that they keep in the back of the bus, and I totally broke it in half and used the handle for the shaft of my lacrosse stick. I got tossed out for having an illegal stick, but I got five good minutes in!

Day 48: Totally overslept first period today. When the teacher sent my roommate to get me I hid under my bed until he was gone. Found old banana that was causing the bad smell.Day 33: Rock! Jenny Parker is in my group for the Hamlet presentation! Took advisor's advice and apologized for the snowball. She said "that's okay, but make sure to apologize to that freshman too". I'm totally going to do that tomorrow. Rock!

Day 24: Bad day! It started out good. Scored goal in lacrosse game. To celebrate I did a back flip and landed weird on my ankle. The athletic trainer gave me one of those heating pads that you stick in a microwave to put on my ankle. Before study hall I put it in the microwave and went to see Jimmy Pascoe. I guess I put the thing in for too long because it caught on fire. The fire department came when the smoke set off the alarm. It wasn't my fault! Jimmy got me with a wet wad of toilet paper and I totally had to go shaving cream his room.

Day 7: Senior trip was awesome. Jenny Parker and I are going out, I think. She said that I could visit her this summer at her house in North Carolina. She's going to college some place in California. That's a long way from Winnasaugie.Day 1. Graduated today. When they called my name out I walked across the stage and said "awe yeah" really loud. Then I gave a big thumbs up to my parents. When the speaker said "I present to you the class of 2009" I threw my hat up in the air like they do in the movies. It was a little weird because nobody else did it, and I had to go find my hat afterward. I'm psyched to go see Jenny in two weeks.

Day -4: Started summer job at ice cream stand today. I totally impressed my new friends by eating a whole gallon of Rocky Road in an hour. I don't think I'm gonna to make it to work tomorrow.

Good luck in college Bobby, only seventy two days of summer to go.