08.30.24 It's been 13 years since Hurricane Irene hit....

      Another Facebook memory popped up on Facebook. This was the pleasant reminder of another decision and dream that went down the toilet. It started in 2004 when I purchased the first house on the banks of the West Branch of the Ausable in a Town called Black Brook. Six years later I would but the house next door. It was going good, or really going no where, and then Irene hit and it started a downward spiral until both were sold around 2013.

     Above are both home overlooking the river. When I was all about trout that wall always held a fish or two. And below the house and under the bridge the West Branch would meet up with the East Branch. Ausable Forks was an old town that has seen its best years when a paper plant, J & J Rogers, 

was in operation. The mill was right up the street from my houses on French Village Road. They use to say in town you could tell what color paper they were running that day by the color of the water in the river. My plan was to have a lodge to guide out of, the green house, and have a fly shop, in the blue house. Delusional at best.

     Irene really did a number on the town and the river. It basically ruined both. Many businesses and homes were severely damaged and the river rock spread into the river. You can see below how hight the river came up and basically flooded the basement and first floor of the "lodge". In a pinch the town, county, and state

     brought in heavy machinery and basically just dug out a straight path in the middle of the river, basically a channel, that ruined any good types of holds and lies for the trout. After we got power back

and I got things settled down here in Ocean Township, NJ where I was living at the time Ryan and I headed up to survey the damage and get too work. I remember standing in the FEMA line looking for 

some help and was turned away at the door because the Forks wasn't my primary residence. We broke our asses up there for a few days for really no reason. Today the houses and town look totally different. They knocked the house down on the corner and built a Family Dollar across the street. 

      Back home Hurricane Irene was the beginning of the end for the pier down on Phillips Avenue in Deal. It was there where I first met the guys who would become the "Phillips Avenue Gang". It was a 

great place to be able to scout out conditions, sit with a cup of coffee, and watch the other guys fish. I can remember standing on the northeast corner of the pier, just to the left of the steps that went down to the groin, and looking for signs of mullet and bass from the Pump House on Roosevelt Avenue, down past where Poplar Brook came in, all the way to the north pocket below the pier. You could watch the action unfold as they moved down the beach. Sandy would come a year later and that was that for the Phillips Avenue pier. 

     It's crazy how quick life goes and how the years just pile on. I was born in 1968 so I'm 56 years old. Looking back 56 years from 1968 puts us at 1914. That picture above is a street scene from 1914. It's crazy to think that I am as old as the time from that picture was taken until the day I was born. Man I'm old. 

08.29.24 Gave it a go in the little blow...

     With some weather rolling in this weekend I thought I'd give it a last summer go. September is just around the corner and with the kids, and me, going back to school the summer is just about over. It was a few hours into the outgoing with a stiff NE wind. Conditions looked perfect. 

     I was down before dark so I picked a larger darker fly that would hopefully get some attention. with reports of some peanuts and snapper around I thought it might be a good snack for a bass or a larger fluke. On some of the beaches there was a trough but for the most part the southern summer wind beaches

were still around. We need some good storms to change up the structure a bit. It was the kind of morning where I thought I might just get surprised by a bass that cleared the water attacking 

the fly. I did a walk up and back hitting a few groins after changing over to a "If it ain't chartreuse it ain't got no use" fly that was a little smaller and was easy to see in the just starting to go off color water. All in all it was a nice morning, no hits, no runs, no errors. 

  After the beach I stopped by my families shop and bothered my brother and dad. Work on the pickup truck bed is going well but I needed some iron welded on to the frame on either side. 

     Over the last few days I spent time on my back with a grinder and wire wheel scraping off the rust before coating it in a product called Por 15. It's a rust encapsulator that I hear extends the life of rusty metal. With the plates in place and painted I can finish building the bed before returning to the shop for the bumper construction and installation. 

08.25.24 The passage from summer to fall...

 

     Another weekend and another college drop off. This time it was Erin making her way back to St. Joseph's University in Philly. She was reunited with her roommate Annie from last year. Lucky for us both of the girls college move-ins went easy. Last week in ADK and this week closer top home. 

     While I am thrilled seeing the girls adulting, well kind of, I realize that with each day they move forward into the start of their adult lives it's also a step away from childhood and a lessened need for us. Well maybe not lessened, but different. We move from a custodial role to one of friendship. No doubt we always need our parents, and are blessed if we still have them around, but the kids own lives take precedence as they navigate through life. 

     So Theresa and I will be empty nesters from today moving forward. Who knows what the future has in store. Next week it's back to school for me. I do wish in a way I could go back in time and be starting college and adulthood all over again. If I only knew then what I know now. 

08.24.14 I actually went fishing finally...

     With a summer full of non-fishing related posts I can finally post something fishing related. As my brother asked me, "Why do you have to post everything you do?". And that made me think. Am I just an attention seeker? Does any body really care? It made me think. While yes, it is about me, it really falls in line with the average angler. It's really just a story about a guy who loves to fish, or is just seeking something from fishing. As Henry David Thoreau wrote, "Many go fishing all their lives without knowing it is not fish they are after". 

    This blog, now 15 years in the making, could be the story of any angler and their journey and how fishing parallels and intersects life. For me fishing has been the one constant, and friend, that has been there through the ups and downs, job changes, family dynamics, and relocations that I've done. And in a way fishing has been injected into every change that my life has brought, and there are more to come until the day I can fish no more. 

     So with the feeling of fall arriving I took a ride down to the beach. I got there just as the sun was rising looking for signs of bait and fish in the hunt. The surface was calm and I didn't find anything showing. I went with a fly Abe Pieciak had given when I stopped by his house in Martha's Vineyard this past June. With reports of lots of white bait around I thought it was a good choice. 

     It was the start of the incoming after the post-Super Moon dead low and it wasn't easy finding good fish holding lies. I thought there might be some cruisers on the outside of the bar but 100 casts and a steady survey of the water left me blanked. Not a touch. I did more waiting and watching and soon the 

fleet from Shark River started to arrive out front. There must have been some albies, or Spanish Mackerel, or bluefish out there because the boats were quick on the move. I didn't bring my binoculars, which is something I carry during the fall, so I couldn't see what the action was. 

I have heard of good boat reports of bonito, fat alberts, and Spanish around and that will only get better over the next few weeks. Hopefully we'll have a good mullet run in less then a month. 

     There was a chair on the landing heading down to the beach so I grabbed it and had a seat for a bit. It was nice taking in the salty air and warmth of the sun watching the boats zip-zag around. Sometimes you just have to stop and smell the coffee and appreciate everyday we have while we have a pulse. 

     It was then off to my family's shop to work on the pickup. I really wish I could just go and drop $60,000 on a new truck but I can't. I refuse to spend $45,000 on a truck with 37,000 miles so I'll just continue to buy the oldies but goodies and get every bit of life out of them that I can. 

     This truck comes in a long line of pickups I have owned. It's a 2003 Chevy Silverado with just 265,000 miles. I pulled the bed because it had some rust and a bunch of dings in it. At the shop were a stack

of used OSHA plank so I'll make my own flatbed with them. Of course plans are always easier than actually carrying them out. When I pulled the bed Lauren said, "Now's the time to replace the fuel pump", so that we did first. And before I complete the bed I'll scrap and paint the frame, which is pretty solid, with that rust encapsulator Pro-15. 

     While working with wood is pretty easy I'll need a helping hand from my brother when it comes to the bumper. I thought about just getting an aftermarket one but the idea of a channel seemed better. 

It took some work but the old one finally came off and we laid out what will be the new bumper. Ryan will take short work of welding it up but the light installation may be a little tough. The only thing they sell are LED lights and we'll have to drill some holes in the steel to mount them. 

If I have my way this truck will last me another 10 years and will end its life down in Hilton Head free from the brine and salt that wreaks havoc on steel frames. This morning I got a new set, well new to me thanks to Facebook Marketplace, of tires which replaced the bologna skins that were on it. 

08.22.24 A new start in the North Country...

     As my Mom always said, "You never know where the days going to take you". As we grow up we come up with life plans that will hopefully all take us to lead a happy and productive life. It's funny how events, people, and new experiences can lead us to veer left or right each time we come to a fork in the road. Opportunities, sometimes once in a lifetime, come up and we grab them or, after much deliberation, choose to let them pass. Hopefully the choices made don't lead to a lifetime of what-if's and regrets. 

     Thirty eight years ago this month I was packing and planning to move in to Seton Hall University. It would be there I would get my degree in journalism and photography after a four year stint at college. Well I moved in, partied hearty, pledged a fraternity, and lasted only one semester. If I hadn't done that I wouldn't have met an alumni who was a Newark fireman. That lead me to a career as a fireman that lead me to a second career in nursing. What would have happened and where would I have wound up if I didn't go to Seton Hall for those four months? 

     This weekend we had a convoy, well two cars, that made their way into the Adirondack Park to help Lauren move into Paul Smith's College just outside of Saranac Lake which is just outside of Lake Placid. It'll be there she continues her education working towards her bachelors in Park and Conservation Management. While it was her decision I can't but help taking a little credit as we introduced the college to her during several family trips up to Saranac Lake over the last 10 years she's been in my family. 

      Covid really took a chunk out of the high school class of 2020. It occurred during senior year. No proms. No parties. No college move ins as most colleges were offering virtual classes. If they did allow kids to move in it was like being herded like sheep at every turn. In addition to missing that opportunity it really put a beating on that generations mental health. It wasn't a good time for a send off into adulthood. 

     We had visited Paul Smith's during Lauren's college tour in the fall of 2019, just months before Covid hit in 2020. It was one of several colleges she considered. I thought it was a perfect match but, at that time, the world had other ideas. 

So she did the virtual Rowan thing for a bit but that was less than fulfilling and fun so she came up with a plan and executed it perfectly. She enrolled in Mercer Community College and majored in automotive 

technology and after graduation worked as a mechanic for two years. Needless to say I, and my vehicles, benefitted greatly from her choice of study. In my opinion every single person in the United States should learn a trade out of high school. A hands on get your hands dirty vocation. Dirty with grease, food, blood, sand dust, paint, you name it. Over in Israel every single person out of high school, man or woman, is required to enroll in the military. I'm not hoping for that but I think real world old-

school skills are what's lacking in our society today. Take electronics and computers out of our lives and really what do we have? And once you have that training, or skill, and a license to practice, you have it for life, no matter where you may choose to go. My kid sister Jessica graduated from the Culinary Institute of America as a pastry chef after completing their four year program. Out of school she joined a start-up, named Peloton, and the rest is her and her families history. 

     So with her skills, her degree, and several certificates to practice her trade as a mechanic, she is now circling back to Paul Smith's. I think if there's a poster child for PSC Lauren could be in the running. While it's a traditional campus with dorms and buildings, the Adirondack Park is the classroom. She is setting herself up for a multitude of career options that can applied anywhere in the United States or the world for that matter. Pretty cool stuff, pretty cool kid, and we are so proud of her. 

     I have always enjoyed the Lake Placid area. I thought for a while I would one day call it home. I've been going up there since 1989. You know the story about my houses in Ausable Forks so I'll spare you. But every time I go I always feel like I could have made it there. Not in a walking, hiking, biking, swimming, skiing, or snowshoeing kind of way, but in a small town work hard be somebody kind of way. While I've missed that boat as that area exploded, especially after Covid, with a migration, or invasion, of investors and relocators, I still feel there's opportunities abound up there. My sister and brother in law seem to be living the Adirondack dream, of course with tons of hard work. 

     So while I tend to try and not tell other peoples stories, but I do, much to the chagrin of my family, like in this post, it all really comes back to me. This year my sis and BIL, Meg and Will, purchased a home that, you could say, needs a little love. While others may see a perfect opportunity to practice demolition skills with heavy machinery, I see a beautiful woman, who's down on her luck, and just needs a shower, some new clothes, and a chance. I'm not picking on women, so just go with it. 

     Her bones are strong, maybe not straight, but just in need a good chiropractic adjustment. And if anyone could snap her back it could be Will. I've seen him work, and his COMPLETED projects, a skill I greatly lack. After they purchased they told me about it. Looks pretty nice outside but hoarding conditions inside. Right up my alley. So during this trip we took a ride over and explored. 

      Inside the place is pretty much floor to ceiling boxes. Inside those boxes are books, thousands and thousands of books. As I looked around they mentioned something about finding some stamps. Now when I hear stamps I think of Lionel trains. Everybody's got them and think they are worth a million dollars. I'm in the slow process of getting ready to sell my collection, something I just really ned to do. So it was worth a look, well really a dig. 

      I would say that after the archeological dig Will and I uncovered some stuff. This wasn't your kids stamp collection. This was the real deal. Stamps, envelopes, ephemera, a coin here and there, and a ring from WWI. And so the, well my, insanity kicked in. I think it may have spread to Will, 

and even Meg, a bit. Soon we had downloaded stamp identification apps on our phone and we started snapping away. This stuff has been cataloged, labeled, and stored in glassine envelopes. There are invoices from orders from the big old stamp collection houses that once were in New York City, including Robert A. Seigel. Manhattan used to be the home of several districts, the Diamond, Fashion, Stamp, and Train. Certain streets held all the stores and dealers for each of these collectables. 

     There were players in each game and I think we may have found the collection, in part or whole, of one of them. After a few hours of work everything was loaded into bins for safe storage and relocated to a new warm and dry home. I wished I lived up there because nothing makes me happier then rolling around in shit like that looking for treasure. And the books....oh lord. If you need one let me know and they might be able to help you out. 

     So back to that fork in the road. Decisions, decisions. Some are huge, other's not so much but we put the fate of the world on them. It's nice to see when a plan comes together. Lauren going to PSC, very cool to watch unfold. My sis and BIL finding the Mother Lode of stamps worth $1 million dollars, kidding of course, priceless. Me spending countless hours writing this blog, stupid. 

     But by chance I took another fork in the road as Theresa and I traveled back down to New Jersey. At Albany we made a right and headed to a little town called Berne, New York. My Mom, who had just done a few day trip from Florida to Niagara Falls with her Golden Girl besties, were now visiting 'The Boys", who summer up there and winter down in Florida, living right above my Mom. 

     We spent a few hours there and had a nice visit. I wish there was a way that each of us could live where we wanted and it was only a town or two away. My sister is 6 hours away by car and my Mom a 2-1/2 plane ride. While I can, and should, make a better effort to visit both of them, it's not always easy, but good when you get there. What you miss are the hangs, just sitting around enjoying each other's space. Having coffee, sharing life stories, getting a load on, helping with a project or with the kids, or digging through dust covered asthma kicking-in boxes looking for treasure. 

So, yes, "You never know where the day is going to take you". As August starts to turn into September I wonder when I'll arrive at the next fork in the road. I'm tired of doing the same thing everyday and expecting different results. Things won't change unless I change, and each day and week is one closer to a day when it's all over Johnny. It's time to go and find that fork. 

08.18.24 Happy 28th Ryan...

     "Oh bloody hell", as Ricky Gervais would say. It's that time of year again. Another August 18th post about Ryan and what would have been this year his 28th birthday. I don't know if it was by chance or fate that I picked to re-watch Afterlife, the three season show on Netflix, the last few nights. Well I finished it up last night. I won't blow it and offer up a spoiler alert but the image below is from the last scene from the last episode.

     I will offer this up. The story is about marriage, death, grief, and suicide. There's a bunch of other stuff as well but that's what jumped out at me. I will say this, the ending is kind of like the ending in the Sopranos, when we are left to wonder if Tony get's whacked at Holsten's Diner in Bloomfield. That's all I'll say, watch it it's good. 

     They say parents should never bury their children, but we do. They say "I could never go on", but you do. Now the normal order, while still painful, should be the older folks in our family age out and pass away, hopefully in order from oldest on down. But that's not reality. We're animals. Just like any other. Big deer get hit by cars as well as the little ones we see on the side of the road. We've all seen them. Congenital anomaly's, disease, trauma, or just shutting down we're all gonna get bit by something in the end. But I'll say this, burying your kid sucks, but life does go on. 

     When I think of Ryan, which honestly, is not everyday, it either fills me with happiness or sadness. Watching Afterlife set me up perfect for a nice little pity party for a minute. What usually gets me are the thoughts of where he would be today at 28 years old. I get reminded of that when I see friends of his or the children of my friends adulting and doing things like settling into careers, buying houses, getting married, or starting a family. He would have been 28 and, since he chose to check out at age 21, that's seven years of unknowns that I'm left to ponder when I'm pondering. 

     So I sat there last night watching the credits roll, the dogs sitting at my feet wondering if I had any scraps of food I would throw at them, and Theresa and Lauren packing for a trip today to the North Country for a college drop off, what would happen if I Googled his name? What would show up? 

     There are other Ryan Archers out there. The one that got me was, well Ryan Archer, over at Princeton University. My Ryan was a genius. A mind that was a like a computer when it

came to math and physics. What's funny is in classes like, Partial Differential Equations, he would get an A while in the college starter classes he would just get by with a C. If it didn't challenge the deepest part of his parietal lobes of his brain he didn't care. So he could have been that Ryan above, and that kills me. And there are a bunch of other Ryan Archers, as seen below, that popped up during my Ryan Archer search. Each of them with their 

own story and accomplishments. And then there was my Ryan Archer. Famous in his own right for, well, passing on. I guess for the rest of eternity a Google search will have him pop up,

and if one cared, they could read a little about him. Well, really, obits only tell a polished up snapshot of ones life, in his case a relatively short one. And that added to my self loathing pity party. With all that Ryan meant to his family and friends this is what is left? That got me angry, well, just kinda down. All of the memories, the photos, and the things I hold onto, the only thing the world can see is his obit? Oh well, that's life, or death. 

     But then something caught my eye about my Ryan. I think the day of Ryan's death his Mom and I came together and wanted to do something in his memory. Now, while kinda macabre, when someone dies and you want to do something you have to strike while the iron's hot. We decided that we wanted to do a scholarship in his name so we contacted Rowan University and soon after the Ryan Archer Scholarship was started.

     The way it was explained to us was this. You can raise money and it would go into the general scholarship fund at Rowan or, if you raised $25,000 a scholarship in his name would be created for in perpetuity, which means forever. And that's what came up when I Googled Ryan Archer last night.

     The scholarship has been around since 2017 and each year a student is awarded money. In the beginning his Mom and I, or just one of us, would attend the scholarship dinner. We'd meet the recipient and shake hands and take a photo. If it wasn't that then we'd scratch up some money and do one of the Suicide Walks either at Rowan or somewhere else in his memory. But those fell out as the years went by. I think it just became like it wasn't a big deal. If we didn't attend then we would get a letter from the recipient, and often I wouldn't read them. But last night I went and found last year's winners letter. It was from Itra Patel, below. How dare I not read it, every word, and know that Ryan had something to do with it. 

     As an educator now, to a lot of under privileged students, I see the importance of just how scholarships can make a difference in their scholastic life. Just this week I penned some letters of recommendation for students applying to a myriad of scholarships at Essex County College. If someone wins then it is a big deal, and helps lessen the financial stressors during their studies. 

    I think one thing about loss and grieving is it gets into your DNA and just changes you down into your core. My loss started when I left the Newark Fire Department and then Ryan, two big blows to my identity. And the funny thing is we don't how much all that shit stored away in our amygdala's changes us forever. I think all that has make me a more angry, jaded, dark, an emotionally numb person, and at times just a plain dick. 

     Many of my family and friends contributed to reach that $25,000 goal. It's now there forever. I'm not trying to recruit donations here but it has made me think. So as I sat and looked at the other Ryan Archer's, scientist, Air Force trainer, teacher, and goalie, I realize my Ryan is still around out there and 

     

some good is being done in his name. I just don't let my eyes see that. So needless to say I broke out the debit card and made a $25 donation into the Ryan Archer Scholarship Fund on today his birthday.

In the end that money will go directly to a deserving student. No doubt, this year I'll be at that award dinner. The recipient, and Ryan, deserve it. Happy Birthday Bud.