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I frequently travel back to New York to visit with friends and family. I usually plan my trips so that I visit as many people as possible. I didn’t have to make people plans this time, though, because half the people I know in New York would be at the Driscoll’s annual St. Patrick’s Day Party. So, I made menu plans instead. I’ve been eating a lot of fish and chicken here in Lancaster. It was in the mood for some of my favorite marinated meats, Corned Beef, Pastrami, and Sauerbraten.

I only ever cooked a corned beef just once in my entire life. It took three long hours to cook. It tasted great, but, after that, I chose to only eat corned beef that somebody else spent three hours cooking. My favorite corned beef sandwich was the special corned beef sandwich they served at a bar in Secaucus, NJ called Charlie’s Corner. The special, which ran all day and all night during St. Patrick’s week, was a corned beef Sandwich and a pickle for a nickel. Of course, you had to eat at the bar, the take-out price was much higher. Charlie once told me that he would go through two tons of corned beef that week.

Corned beef and a pickle, for a nickel. You couldn’t beat that. Almost. The spread that Marianne and Tres put out for their Patty’s Party, was even better. So, in honor of St. Patrick’s Day, I started my meat parade with corned beef at their party. Delicious, and the best part is that I didn’t have to spend 3 hours in the kitchen.

Another pickled meat I love is Sauerbraten. That’s even more labor intensive. It takes two days to make, so I never made it. Fortunately, I had the best sauerbraten in the world at least once a year when my mother was alive. Since then I’ve had to settle for the pot roast in sauerbraten sauce that most German restaurants serve. My friend John in Long Beach tells me that the new German restaurant in his neighborhood makes a mean sauerbraten. So, that was on the menu for Sunday.

Das Biergarten is a place that looks like a small beer hall in Bavaria. The waitresses are costumed to look like those darlings who carry so many pints to the thirsty tourists at Oktoberfest. I remember the place from many years ago when John and I used to go there to wet our whistle. Back then, it was called The Digs, and it was decorated more to look like a bar. The old and the new quickly became one in my mind, and I started calling the place, Das Digs.

The first appetizer on the menu is Das Pretzel. That made me laugh, so I ordered one. Then we got down to the serious business, the Sauerbraten. It was delicious. Not as good as my mother’s, of course, but delicious. Two meats down, one to go.

New York Pastrami is the very best. The owner of the Alley Kat Restaurant in Lancaster used to drive to the Carnegie Deli in New York every week to pick up 60 pounds of it. This winter, he got tired of making the drive, so pastrami was dropped from the menu. I was Jonesing for some juicy pastrami, so I made sure that my train reservation on Monday was for a late train. This gave me all afternoon to go to the Blarney Stone, just a few steps from the train station. The pastrami sandwich was thick, lean, and delicious. The beers went down pretty smooth, too. I rolled out of there just in time to catch the train home.

The next day when I got on the scale, I was 6 pounds heavier than I was when I left the house on Saturday morning. Now I remember why I’ve been eating fish and chicken.

I hope everyone had a Happy Healthy St. Patrick’s Day.

Peace & Love, and all of the above,

Earl

It’s on. Brother X and I, will compete in The Rage in the Cage, in the batting cage at Clipper Magazine Stadium at 3:30 P.M. on May 16^th. The actual game doesn’t start until 7 p.m. though, so there may not be a lot of witnesses to the event.

I love competition, and competitions with Brother X are my favorite. They’ve been going on for 64 years. I’ve always had a two year advantage on him, of course that was back when I was a kid and being older was an advantage. Now, at 66, being 2-years older is more of a disadvantage.

As a kid, I had the size advantage, so he had to use cunning. This led to his becoming devious and mischievous, and earned him the nickname of “Devil Incarnate,” at least according to page 92 in brother Kevin’s book, A Song for Lost Angels. After reading that I stopped calling him Brother X and jokingly started calling him Beelzebro X. I think he like it, because he knows it fits.

Here’s an example of the devious, mischievous nature of Beelzebro X. About 15-20 years ago, we were standing behind my parent’s house in Yaphank, looking at the lake far below. X bent down, picked up two rocks, offered one to me, and said, “I’ll bet I can throw further than you.” Without giving me time to think about it, he reared back and threw the rock about 10-15 feet past the shoreline. We both heard the splash, and he turned to look at me. Now it was my turn.

He was prepared. I wasn’t. He’d been playing baseball with his son the previous two weeks. The only thing I had been throwing back were beers and shots. Sibling rivalry, however, demanded that I try my best. I reared back and threw the rock with all my might.

I don’t know where my rock landed. I was in too much pain to notice or even care. I know it didn’t make the water because there was no splash. Or if there was a splash, I couldn’t hear it over X’s laughter. He knew that throwing a ball with all your might, when you haven’t thrown a ball in years, was going to be very painful. That’s the whole reason he set me up for the competition. As usual, he won because he was prepared.

So, now I plan to turn the tables on him.

The Barnstormers had a promotion back in December. Buy 5 tickets to games and you could take batting practice with the team. I bought 10 tickets and got two coupons for batting practice with the team on May 16^th. I called my brother and invited him to join me in the batting cage. He said, “Yes,” and I started preparing. I turned my laundry room into a batting cage, and I prepare daily for the upcoming battle. Hee hee hee, payback.

Then, I made a mistake. I let it slip that I was practicing. So, now he knows that this is a serious competition and he’s practicing too. I’m quickly losing my tactical advantage.

So, I secretly stepped up my training, and I thought I might be regaining my advantage, until I had a conversation with him. He had been practicing, too. “Plus,” he said, “I’m even boning my bat.”

“You’re making love to your bat?” I questioned him worriedly.

“No, you moron. I’m boning my bat. You rub a big dry soup bone along the barrel of the bat and it compresses the wood, making the bat harder, less likely to break, and able to drive the ball further.”

I never knew about that, so I looked it up on YouTube. Some bat manufacturers even sell pre-boned bats. Unlike corked bats, they’re 100% legal.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zjZWGkmTiu8

So, I better go find myself a nice big soup bone, and try to catch up, because I have a feeling that my devious little brother may have outsmarted me again.

At least one thing makes sense, though, now. Now, after all these years, I finally understand why I always saw the nuns I had in grammar school rubbing their pointers and yardsticks with a soup bone.

Peace & Love, and all of the above,

Earl

Tommy and Lydia from back in the day.

You know how it is when you go to a reunion. At first you don’t recognize the people and you’ve got little in common to talk about with them. Then, the years quickly melt away, you start to recognize them, and you’ve suddenly got a million things you want to talk about.

This past weekend as I travelled around New York, I saw Tommy Powers, who I hadn’t seen since his 40^th birthday. Tommy and I went to grammar school together, different classes, but the same grade, so we’ve know each other for around 60 years. I also saw his wife Lydia who I haven’t seen since Tommy’s 40^th birthday. He was the best man at my wedding, and I was the best man at his. They’re now celebrating their 40^th wedding anniversary. They looked good. Too good. He’s got all his hair, and Lydia looked the same as when I saw her 25 years ago.

Another blast from the past was seeing my ex-wife Ginny, who I last saw in Florida in 1991. She, too, looked the same as she did back then. I can only assume that she has a picture in the attic that is aging incredibly fast. It just couldn’t be possible that I was the only one who aged over the years. Next I saw her brother, also named Tommy, and his wife, also named Ginny. With them were, her sister Jeanie and her husband Larry. I hadn’t seen any of them since the 80’s. Right away, we picked up right where we left off 30 years ago, repeating George Carlin routines. “Hey how ya doin’? Nice place, but if it was me living here, I would run some beams and struts out this way and then run conduit…”

Unfortunately, they weren’t content to have aged much better than me. They also had proof that they always looked better than me. They had videos from back in the day and I saw myself with an Afro Haircut that made me look like Linc on the Mod Squad. I remember getting that haircut when I was working for the Telephone Company as an escort in Harlem. I figured that someday it might save me from a severe ass whupping. I guess it worked, because I never got beaten up when I worked in Harlem, and I was just a skinny thing back then. My extra pounds melted away as quickly as the years did, while the video played. Unfortunately, those pounds came right back as soon as the DVD stopped.

Tommy and Ginny’s daughter, Lisa, was there too. She was about 4 years-old the last time I saw her. Now she’s an accomplished equestrian with her own Horse farm on Long Island. We went to see her stable of Hunters and Jumpers and they were all magnificent animals. Her trophies and ribbons fill a room.

The big shock of the weekend came later, though. My ex-wife made dinner for the whole gang, and it was delicious. How did that happen? Back when we were married she could barely boil water. She explained to me that she watches a lot of cooking shows, now. Well, I’ve watched thousands of horse races and I didn’t turn into Willie Shoemaker or Buddy Gilmour. I was starting to think that she must have more than an aging picture in the attic. She probably made a deal with the Devil. I thought her divorce attorney looked like he had horns.

That reminds me of the old joke where the Devil shows up at a church service and everybody runs except one old man. The Devil turns to him and asks him why he’s not scared. The man answers, “Why should I be afraid of you? I’ve been married to your sister for 35 years.”

It was a great weekend, capping off a great week in New York, and it sure was nice to see the old gang.

Peace & Love, and all of the above,

Earl

The following is a guest blog written by Brother X:

You’ve heard of the Thrilla in Manila and the Rumble in the Jungle on May 16th you can see the Massacre in Lancaster.  A BATtle of brothers not seen since Cain and Abel will take place. Earl the Pearl Paulson (the local favorite) will challenge infamous sibling Donald “Duckie” Paulson (better known to blog readers as Brother X.) to a baseball hitting contest at Clipper Magazine Stadium in down town Lancaster, Pennsylvania.
Readers are invited to see these two sexagenarians swing it out. It may turn into the disaster in Lancaster.  Here is the tale of the tape:
Earl.                                Bro X
66          Age                    64
5’11”    Height                5’6″
28″         Reach                26″
Hips   Major ailment     Cataract’s

Another month, another trip to New York. It seems I do more things in New York since I moved out than I did when I lived there. Last night, I went to a Broadway show, Kinky Boots. I never used to go to Broadway shows, unless somebody had an extra ticket that they were giving away. I’ve gone to a few off Broadway shows since I moved to Lancaster, but now, going to a real Broadway show, I’ve finally stamped myself as an official tourist.

At least I’m not planning visits to the Empire State Building or the Statue of Liberty any time soon. And I haven’t ridden the double-decker sightseeing bus, yet, or taken a Hansom cab ride. When that happens, I’ll really be considered a tourist. I just bought a Smart Phone, and now I have to make sure I resist the urge to take selfies at New York landmarks, like Radio City, bagel shops, and pizza places.

Like usual, I’ve got a lot of things planned for this visit. On Friday, I’m going to see The Mavericks at Town Hall with Maria. This is the third time we’re going to see them. How many more times before I’m labeled a groupie?

Tonight, I went out to dinner with people I worked with at Cyber Medical back in the 1990’s. We laughed so much tonight, it was just like it used to be when we were all working together. No wonder that company went out of business.

In addition to seeing Kinky Boot this week, I also plan to see a lot of cowboy boots, too. I’m going to a Country Western Dance on Saturday. I don’t dance much anymore, but the main purpose of this visit, like all my visits, is to see old friends, and I have plenty of old Country friends and some are still willing to risk injury to their toes by letting me waltz them around the dance floor another time.

On Sunday, I’m going to dig even deeper into my past. I’m going to visit with one of my best friends from when I was a kid in South Ozone Park, Tommy Powers. I was Tommy’s Best Man when he married Lydia 40 years ago, but I’ve only seen them a few times since then. So that should be a real blast from the past, especially since my ex-wife Ginny will be there. I haven’t seen her since 1991. That reminds me of an old Woody Allen line. In his stand-up routine, he said, “I saw my ex-wife the other day but I didn’t recognize her without her hand out.”

Of course, I’m only joking. I would never say anything bad about my ex. She still has lawyers on speed dial.

Well, I hope the next 4 days are as much fun as the last 2 have been. Now, though, it’s time to go to bed. This city may never sleep, but I need my 8 hours. I’ve got a lot of New York to see tomorrow. One thing I’ve learned, though. New York may have thousands of famous touristy things to see, but it’s the people that live there, who make me keep coming back.

Peace & Love, and all of the above,

Earl

 

According to Amazon, “La Vigila “THE FEAST of The 7 FISH” is The Southern Italian Ritual Christmas Eve Meal of 7 Fish, Representing the 7 Sacraments of The Roman Catholic Church…” I looked it up, to make sure I had it right, but there were a lot of Italian-Americans in South Ozone Park, when I grew up there. So, I was already familiar with this custom.

I didn’t have any fish for Christmas Eve this year. I’m not Italian. Neither is Debbie, but she does have one big fish back in her life this Christmas. Back when her husband Kevin was alive, they had an aquarium, and one of the fish was a sucker fish, with a life expectancy of a few years. When her husband passed away six years ago, she gave the fish to her mother, and the fish is still alive today.

Not only has the fish survived. It has thrived. Her Mom finally said to her, “I’m gonna have to do something with your sucker fish. He’s grown too big for my aquarium. So, rather than giving the fish a tour of toilet bowl falls, Debbie went out and bought herself a bigger aquarium. Now the fish is back living with her.

We were talking about Christmas presents and she said that she didn’t know what to buy me, since lately when I see something I like, I’ve been buying it for myself. My Dad left me some money, and I’m just trying to give his soul peace by enjoying the money he gave me. Last year I bought a ticket package for The Lancaster Barnstormers that included the right to throw out the first pitch at a game. This year I bought that package again. Plus, I bought a package that allows me to take batting practice with the team.

“You can buy me a bat,” I said. So we went to the Sports Authority and she got me a nice wood bat, and one of those weighted doughnuts to put on the bat to make it look like I’m a serious batter.

“Well, now you’re all set,” I said, “but I still don’t know what to get for you.”

She wiggled her ring finger and said, “I’m a six and a half.”

We both laughed.

So, now today is Christmas and I’ll be going over to her house for Christmas dinner. I bought her a bunch of things and even wrapped them. One of them is very tiny. I’m gonna give that one to her last.

When she gets to that gift, I’m gonna ask her what she thinks it might be. After she guesses, I’ll give it to her. I can’t wait to see the look on her face when she unwraps the tiny aquarium ornament of the fish from Finding Nemo and my little handmade sign that says, “Wrong. Go Fish.”

Merry Christmas, everyone. May Santa fill your net with abundance.

Peace & Love, and all of the above,

Earl

I had a busy weekend planned last week. Saturday was The Driscoll Christmas party, which is always one of the top 2 parties of the year. The Driscoll St Patrick’s Day Party is the only one that can beat it. Sunday I was visiting with Beelzebro and Mrs X. They just got back from a two-week tour of Central Europe. Monday I belatedly celebrated my friend Margaret’s birthday. Had to get it in before Christmas. You know how people who have birthdays around major holidays wind up getting cheated out of a birthday. Happy birthday to Steve, by the way. His birthday is December 26^th. It’s hard getting the crowd enthusiasm back the day after Santa has left the building. Good Luck, Steve.

On Friday I was supposed to go food shopping with my buddy Duane. He’s no longer homeless. He has an apartment in town and a part-time job. Plus he has a car, so we go food shopping together. Anyway, he got busy on Friday and didn’t come over. That was cool by me. I didn’t really want to food shop when I was going away for three days. I’ll food shop when I get back.  I can better use the time by resting up for a busy weekend.

I left the house on Saturday morning and started walking to the Amtrak Station. Two blocks later I realized that I didn’t have my cell phone with me. I looked at my watch and figured that I might miss my train if I went back for the phone. I could make it, but I would have to hustle, and I don’t do the hustle anymore. So I said, “The heck with it.” I’ll be seeing anyone I would normally be calling, anyway. It’s not a smart phone. I can’t use it to read e-mail or anything, so the heck with it.”

So, when my phone rang a few minutes later, I didn’t get the call:

“Earl, this is Duane. Sorry I couldn’t go food shopping yesterday. I’ll take you today. I’ll be there in a couple minutes.”

The weekend turned out great, and I didn’t need my cell phone. When I needed to call my brother to pick me up at the train station, I just went to a liquor store by the train station, bought my brother a bottle of Bourbon, and asked if I could borrow the phone.  Two birds, one stone.  No problem.

Beelzebro and his wife had a bunch of great stories and pictures from their trip. They have a tiny stuffed animal character that they take with them everywhere and try to use in many of their photos. It’s like Where’s Waldo, or the Travelocity Gnome. (Sorry, I can’t tell you who their character is without revealing Beelzebro X’s real name, and he still chooses to remain anonymous.) We also had our first annual Almost-Christmas Meatloaf Dinner.

Then it was off to the party

Marianne and Tres throw the best parties. They’ve got a lot of friends – and family, and they all like to party. Plus, they’ve got Bob on electric piano, Shane on bass, various people on bongos, and anyone who wants to sing, singing. Thanks to my five weeks of physical therapy for my hip, I was even able to jump on the dance floor when a Tush Push broke out.

I already wrote about belatedly celebrating Margaret’s Birthday in Long Beach on Monday, so I’ll jump to when I got home. There was my cell phone, all charged up, and letting me know that I had 11 new voice mails.  That’s a lot for me.  I usually average about none.

First voice message:

“Earl, this is Duane. Sorry I couldn’t go food shopping yesterday. I’ll take you today. I’ll be there in a couple minutes.”

Next voice message:

Earl, this is Duane. I rang your bell. You didn’t answer. Call me.

Next voice message:

Earl, this is Duane. Are you home? I know you’ve got a heart condition. I’m worried about you. Give me a call.

Next voice message:

I just rang your bell again. I knocked on your front window. The lights are out. That’s not like you. Are you okay? Did you go away? Give me a call.

There was a voice mail from John and Margaret asking me if I knew which train I would be on, and a voice mail from Debbie with basically the same question. She wanted to know when I would be back.  Plus there were some more calls from Duane. He was knocking on my door, calling me up, and ready to report me as a missing person/heart attack victim.

The next message was from a Sergeant somebody with the Lancaster Police Department who wanted to know if I was okay and would I call the station to let them know that I’m okay.

The next message was from another Sergeant who was following up, saying that he would be by tomorrow to investigate, unless I called.

I called him immediately, and then I called Duane. He was quite relieved to hear that I was alive. We had a good laugh about it.

So, I managed to get through a weekend without my cellphone, without causing too many problems.

Oh shit. I forgot to call Debbie.

Peace & Love, and all of the above,

Earl

A lot of furniture gets moved around in December when people put up their Christmas trees. When my friends John and Margaret put up their Christmas tree they have to move their dining room table. When they do this, one person winds up sitting in a chair that is wedged in a corner. Once you’re in it, the Christmas Tree has you blocked in and you can’t get out unless the person on your left gets up. As soon as I got to their house last weekend, I was escorted into that chair.

“You’re sitting in the while-you’re-up chair.”

I knew just what they meant. I invented the concept. I’ve been partying at John’s house for decades and rarely have I ever gone to the refrigerator to get a beer. I always manage to spy somebody getting up, when I needed another beer. “Hey, while you’re up, would you grab me a beer.” We are not just talking about a few times, either. We are talking about thousands of beers over the years. My timing is impeccable.

They still talk about the Super Bowl party that I got there early, plopped down on the couch closest to the TV, and never got up once, not even at half time. Of course, I cheated a little that day. I brought a date, and she kept getting me beers, even when everyone else refused to get me anything, because they all wanted that front-row seat I was hogging. Since I didn’t even get up to pee, my bladder was awarded Super Bowl MVP that year. Unfortunately, my date was flagged by the refs and banned from all future Super Bowl Parties for aiding and abetting the enemy, me. I think they called it Unsportsmanlike Conduct. So, I’ve never been able to duplicate that feat at another Super Bowl Party, but that’s alright. I don’t think my 66-year-old bladder could last until half time, anyway.

So, they don’t even fight it anymore. It’s acknowledged that the while-you’re up chair is whichever chair I’m sitting in. That’s a great honor, and I would propose a toast to John and Margaret if somebody would just grab me a beer.

 

Peace & Love, and all of the above,

Earl

PRESS RELEASE

For Immediate Release

FFI – Contact Allan Schott at allan@hanaweb.org

 Garnet Barnsdale Wins HANA Harness’ 2014 Grand Circuit Shoot-Out

 December 9, 2014 – With the Cleveland Classic not filling, the last leg of HANA Harness’ Grand Circuit Shoot-Out Handicapping Contest sponsored by the Hambletonian Society, DRF Harness, Meadowlands Racing & Gaming, Northfield Park, Tioga Downs, and Vernon Downs has been cancelled resulting in Garnet Barnsdale being named the top handicapper for this year’s contest with a net profit of $4,553.40, over $3,000 ahead of second place Mark McKelvie who had a net profit of $1,276.  In a last minute move, Brian McEvoy managed to nail Bob Zanakis for the show position, thanks to his $250 win wager on McWicked on Sunday’s Progress stake at Dover Downs.

While not finishing in the money, the last leg’s big winner was Earl Paulson who had a $250 play on the winning Trifecta which gave him a weekly net profit of $2,850, allowing him to move up from tenth to fifth place, putting him withiin striking distance of the third spot if he was successful in the Cleveland Classic but alas, it was not to be.

By nature of Barnsdale’s winning of the contest, a donation of $1,500 will be made to his selected standardbred rescue, TROTR (Therapeutic Riding and Off Track Rehabilitation) in addition, donations of $250 will be made by the Central Ontario Standardbred Association (COSA) and Red Shores-Charlottetown to the Canadian rescues of their choice in honor of Garnet’s victory.  For his second place finish, a donation of $1,050 will be made to McKelvie’s selected rescue, Rainhill Sanctuary.  A donation of $450 will be made to Horse Rescue United, Brian McEvoy’s selected rescue.

Final Standings (53 Legs)
Pos	Handicapper	Week Gain	Net Profit	Behind
1st	Garnet Barnsdale	($204.00)	$4,553.40
2nd	Mark McKelvie	($250.00)	$1,276.00	$3,277.40
3rd	Brian McEvoy	$175.00	$33.50	$4,519.90
4th	Bob Zanakis	($250.00)	($53.05)	$4,606.45
5th	Earl Paulson	$2,850.00	($57.50)	$4,610.90
6th	Brandon Valvo	$175.00	($620.00)	$5,173.40
7th	Josi Verlingieri	$175.00	($1,005.40)	$5,558.80
8th	Derick Giwner	($250.00)	($1,073.23)	$5,626.63
9th	Rusty Nash	$350.00	($1,733.36)	$6,286.76
10th	Gordon Waterstone	($250.00)	($2,131.30)	$6,684.70
11th	Dennis O’Hara	($250.00)	($4,086.65)	$8,640.05
12th	Sally Hinckley	$370.00	($4,267.40)	$8,820.80
13th	Anne Stepien	($180.00)	($4,787.93)	$9,341.33
14th	Ray Garnett	($250.00)	($6,352.80)	$10,906.20
15th	Ray Cotolo	($250.00)	($10,048.40)	$14,601.80

HANA Harness would like to once again thank its Gold Sponsors, the Hambletonian Society, DRF Harness, Meadowland Racing and Gaming, Northfield Park, Tioga Downs, and Vernon Downs as well as COSA and Red Shores-Charlottetown for their sponsorship and the handicappers which allowed this contest to help standardbred rescues across North America.

 For further information on HANA, please visit our website http://www.horseplayersassociation.org/.

Allan Schott

All I can say is what the Brooklyn Dodgers used to say at the end of most every season, “Wait ’til next year.”

I found a batting cage just 5 miles from my house, so until the contest starts again next April, I’ll practice my swinging for the fences there.

Peace & Love, and all of the above,

Earl