Boxer Shorts, December, 2004 - 3 of 4

November Meeting Minutes

by Bruce Ferguson, Secretary and Clerk

The snow from Nov 13 was long gone, and we were thankful for that as well. Temperature in the 40's with occasional drizzle made for a reduced turnout consisting of only the hardiest of the hard core. The ultimate turnout was pretty good, but by 8:30, there were only a handful of bikes in the parking lot, much to my dismay. I had sold this breakfast meeting to my new neighbor Sean Casey from Kerry, Ireland who rides a Suzuki Hayabusa. I had told Sean there would be around 70 bikers there for breakfast. We arrived by 7:55 to find only one other bike in the lot. Luckily, by the time breakfast was served we had 37 bikes including a maroon Suzuki 800 VX; a red Triumph Daytona; a red, white, and blue Honda TransAlp; and Sean's blue Suzuki GSX 1300 Hayabusa.

The hungry hordes might have been late, but the breakfast committee was on time. Fred Kolack, Richard McElroy, and Don Lapierre served a fine meal at precisely 8:30. Fred collected the $10 tariff from 56 hungry riders who were treated to Stone's delicious and hearty breakfast. There were three kinds of Irish bread with fresh creamery butter, scrambled eggs, French Toast smothered in Stone's signature brandy-rum-maple-banana sauce, extra chunky corned beef hash, sizzling savory snappy skinned sausages, robust rashers of bacon, home fries, melon wedges, fresh orange juice, and endless flagons of imported Brazilian Mountain coffee.

The patio being somewhat damp and drizzly, everyone ate indoors fitting comfortably around the tables in the bar. President Kit Wise reminded us that the Secretary, Bruce Ferguson, must receive the ballots for next year's officers by December 7.

It is not too early to be renewing memberships for next year. Treasurer Maurice Kornreich told us that if our registration information is the same, we should just write "Same" on the application. Jeez, is he innovative or what?

Fred Kolack, the Viscount of Victuals, described The Yankee Beemers year-end holiday party and January 2005 monthly meeting to be held on Saturday evening, January 15, 2005, in the Patio Room of the Indian Meadows Country Club, between 6PM and 11PM. Cost is $35 per person, payable in advance, by January 1, 2005. Please send check payable to Yankee Beemers to YB Treasurer, Maurice Kornreich, Village Photo Corp., 274 Franklin Village Drive, Franklin, MA 02038. Please write Holiday Party and the names of the attendees on your check. It is expected that over 120 people will be attending this year. As with all YB functions, a good time is guaranteed! President Kit Wise has once again promised that perfect weather will be arranged for this evening. (Um, would that be perfect weather for a lame duck?) Attire will be semi-formal (but not required, webmaster).

Cash bar. Cocktails from 6PM until 7:15PM. with traditional hot hors d'oeuvres, cheese and fresh vegetable crudités served during the cocktails.

Dinner starts with a served garden salad, followed by a buffet menu featuring Beef Bourguignone, Chicken Marsala, Baked Boston Scrod, and Ziti, along with a selection of fresh seasonal vegetables, rice pilaf, and oven roasted potatoes. Coffee or tea, and Fresh Strawberry Shortcake dessert will be served.

Entertainment is to be determined. Someone suggested a magician and someone else suggested a hypnotist. Is that biker entertainment?

FROM BOSTON: Take the Mass Turnpike West to Route 495(Exit 11A). Proceed north on Route 495 approx. 1 mile, to Route 9 West (Exit 23B). The sign for Indian Meadows is 4 miles on the right, at the 2nd set of lights. Immediately prior to Indian Meadows, you will see Toyota and Nissan dealerships, also on your right. FROM WORCESTER: Take Route 9 eastbound. Approx. 1.5 miles east of the Route 9 and Route 20 interchange, and just beyond Herb Chambers Ford, go left at the first traffic light, into the Indian Meadows driveway entrance, adjacent to Glick Nissan.

For those wishing to get a room, the Comfort Inn is 0.7 miles west of Indian Meadows on Route 9. Comfort Inn at 399 Turnpike Road, Westborough, MA 01581 Call 508-366-0202 and speak with Deb or Ryan, $70 was quoted. Shuttle van. Free continental breakfast.

Mike Andrews' 2005 Hound Butt 400 bus trip to the New York International Motorcycle Show departs The Franklin, MA Stop 'n Shop parking lot at 0700 hours on January 22, 2005. The entry fee for this rally is $45 and space is limited to 55 riders, first come, first served. Since Mike will be in South America that day, Kit Wise will be the bus monitor. To secure your seat on the bus, send your check to Kit.

Moto Market will be holding their fall open house on Nov. 28.

Doug Farmer distributed the first batch of personalized nametags. Additional orders will be placed as soon as ten more tags are requested. Doug is also looking into some customized fleece jackets and reflective vests.

If everything falls into place as expected, Club Photographer "PhotogX" Al Latham will be moving to Willmington, NC and transferring to YB South. Y'all come back and see us real soon, now, ya heah?

No new members showed up with the hearty souls who rode this morning.

Karl Neugebauer, ably assisted by guest Sean Casey raised $142 in 50:50 raffles, providing $70 to the kitty, and prizes of $36 each to Deb Macchi and Medono Nameofa.

Next month's meeting will be Sunday, December 19, 2004, at Stone's Public House, full breakfast at 8:30, meeting at 9:30! You better watch out. You better not cry. You better not pout, I'm telling you why. Because Santa Clause is coming to town. He knows when you are sleeping. He knows when you're awake. He knows when you've been bad or good. So, be good for goodness sake. Or, be very, very bad. Whatever. Just be there for the breakfast or you'll never get what you want.

Bruce

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Lorin Gowdy's
Excellent Memorial Service

by Bruce Ferguson

Saturday, October 23, Lorin Gowdy's life was memorialized in Heath, MA. "Come and join us for a great night in remembrance of Lorin Gowdy," the invitation read, "*Food, Fireworks, and lots of Fun!*...Camp out Saturday night, Breakfast served Sunday morning."

Lorin was the Chief of Police in Heath until his premature death earlier this year from liver cancer at the too young age of 53. As chief, he patrolled the roads of Heath on his BMW F650 GS. He needed the GS he explained, because of all the dirt roads and remotely located homes in Heath that had to be looked after. What fun it was to ride with him when he was using his flashing blue lights and siren to say hello to other police officers along the way, especially the ones manning radar traps!

Lorin has brought our August campout, The Damn Yankees Rally, to the Heath Fairgrounds annually since 1997.

Lorin's memorial service promised to fill a void in my psyche: work had prevented me from attending his funeral back in July. I almost missed out on this memorial service as well. But one of my associates offered to swap shifts with me so that I was able to leave work at 2:00. The ride out Route 2 to Heath, normally 2-1/2 hours, took longer than expected. Although I had directions to Lorin's house, the site of the festivities, I was concerned about getting there before dark. Riding around after dark in search of an isolated house in a rural town such as Heath with its limited landmarks and street signs could prove to be a daunting task.

Nevertheless, by 6:00 p.m. I had found Lorin's driveway and headed down into his yard. There was no question that I was at the right place. To the right of the driveway was the house, followed by a formation of approximately 9 picnic tables set in three rows of three. The tables were filled with people eating supper. Just beyond the dining area, there was a bonfire blazing in a semicircular stone fire ring.

Amongst the dozen guests standing by the fire, there were several Yankee Beemers: Muriel Farrington, Deb and Fred Macchi, and Gary and Debbie VanVoorhis. I parked next to the only other bike I saw, Muriel's F650, which was reassuringly loaded for camping: I would not be the only camper.

A half dozen or more large Halloween decorations were displayed about the yard. Someone had found them in the garage and decided to put them up.

Once I was off my bike, a nice lady served me a German sausage. Ride to Eat! I was led into the house where I found mustard for the brat, a cheeseburger, and an enormous platter of shrimp cocktail. (Shrimp is no longer just an appetizer, you know) Ah, three food groups. Dr Atkins would have been proud of me.

Alas the Dr.'s pride was to be short lived. Some of the neighbors announced that they had baked blueberry and pumpkin pies that were ready for serving. Afraid of offending anyone by skipping their pie, I had slices of each variety with cups of hot chocolate. As I was finishing up my second helping, a neighbor got ready for the evening's festivities by rolling up a homemade miniature replica civil war cannon.

Knowing that his time was limited Lorin had expressed his final wishes. He felt we needed a band at The Damn Yankees Rally so he hired one. He also laid in a supply of fireworks. Lorin died before the rally, but his spirit lived on, buoyed by the band, and the fireworks. The Rally's traditional Scottish bagpiper even wailed Amazing Grace in Lorin's honor. Lorin wanted to be cremated and his ashes scattered over a wild blueberry patch and in his orchard, across from his house.

Lorin and Hank used to meet halfway in Bucksnort, WV. Hank lives in North Carolina and one of the places they met had a civil war replica cannon that Lorin admired. Knowing how much Lorin liked that artillery piece, and recognizing his final wishes to have his ashes scattered about, Hank conferred with a local neighbor who owned a scale model of a Civil War 6-pounder field gun, Model of 1835. After much experimentation, it was discovered that an empty green bean can was just the right size for a blank cartridge. Lorin's ashes filled five of the blanks.

At 2:30 p.m. on October 23, Lorin's family and a few close friends held a memorial service and then fired a four round salvo up the hillside. Hank's wife, Anita, wrote to a friend that "after the final ashes were scattered, two women went up and did a Native American drumming. It was beautiful and memorable."

At 5:00, the family and about 50 friends converged on Lorin's house for a memorial celebration. Among the guests, Bob and Bonnie Randall, the couple who had sold their house to Lorin 20 years ago and built a new one next door. The Randalls are from Cambridge, MA and come to Heath for weekends and vacations. Bob is a retired architectural model maker, and looks like a consummate Harvard square intellectual. Bonnie looks like the actress that played Greg's mother on the Darma and Greg TV show and is a yoga instructor. Their place is separated from Lorin's by his orchard, a hay field, and some woods.

Bob Randall had picked up a bottle of Vodka made from grapes and was serving samples to any and all takers. Although I allowed myself a taste, I hadn't figured out where I would be spending the night, so I was reluctant to drink any.

By now, someone had placed the model cannon between the garage and the house aimed up hill towards the orchard and packed it with some black powder and the last canister of ashes. As the fuse was lit, I stood at attention and held a right hand salute. What more could I say? The gun went off with an impressive display of noise, flames, and smoke.

Then we had fireworks. Lorin had recently developed an interest in pyrotechnics and had accumulated three trunks full of fireworks. Some of the guests hauled all three trunk-loads of fireworks up into the orchard and proceeded to set of an impressive display of Roman Candles, skyrockets, and fiery pinwheels.

As the rockets red glare lit up the night sky, I began to wonder where I would be bedding down. By now I knew the other YB's would not be camping out with me. The Macchi and VanVoorhis families had rooms at nearby inns. And Muriel had been invited to stay at Kathy Stein's place. Kathy, who is one of Lorin's neighbors wrote a warm tribute to Lorin which she kindly adapted for the September Boxer Shorts. I began to start weighing the possibility of riding back to Stoughton for the night against the chore of packing a wet tent in the morning

Bonnie Randall proposed that I really should try the vodka and I said that I was thinking of heading home. She wouldn't hear of it. She ran off and arranged for me to stay at Kathy's house. In convincing me, she said that if Peter Cottontail didn't live under a tree, he would live in Kathy's house. I was intrigued and wanted to stay. So, I accepted the invite and a wee dram of vodka to toast Lorin's memory.

The festivities ended, I finally met Kathy; Muriel and I mounted our bikes and followed Kathy to her house. Meandering through town roads we eventually ended up climbing a steep dirt driveway to Kathy's yard. As Muriel and I unpacked our gear, Kathy took large bottles of water and wine from her trunk, and led the way to her house with a powerful flashlight.

When we got inside, Kathy lit several kerosene lanterns and a candle lit chandelier over the dining table. When she and her husband bought the house from a man named Ed Calver, about 20 years ago, it had no central heat, electricity, or running water. After trying the place, Kathy and her husband decided to leave it as it was.

Once we had light, Kathy loaded up the wood burning cook stove in the kitchen and a smaller wood stove in the living room and soon the house was warm and cozy. The three of us sat in the living room drinking wine and tea , recapping the day's events and recalling some favorite reminiscences about Lorin. We all agreed that Lorin was no doubt watching and really enjoying his memorial activities. After our nightcaps, Kathy climbed up to her loft bedroom for the night. Muriel stretched out on the living room sofa, and I spread out on the kitchen floor where, after reading a book on day hiking which I found in Kathy's library, I proceeded to sleep like a log.

In the morning, I had a chance to use the new outhouse. Kathy had built a new shed with large windows on all four sides to house a modern composting toilet. As the toilet contained a holding tank incorporated into its base, it provided a stepping stool to enable the guests to climb up onto the seat. As I sat up there enjoying the 360 view of the woods, I reflected that certainly this was what the originator had in mind when he or she coined the phrase "sitting on the throne."

The shed serves multiple purposes, housing the most comprehensive collection of wood clamps I have ever seen, as well as a large assortment of wrenches, pliers, screwdrivers and various other hand tools. The walls were decorated with an eclectic assortment of novelty items, pictures, posters and what's this, certificates naming Kathy as Woman of the Year for some Transportation Society.

Kathy said that she and another woman had formed a transportation-consulting firm about twenty years previously. Kathy was supposed to be retired by now, she said, but, she enjoyed the work and dealing with the clients too much to quit completely. Her latest noteworthy project was the transportation planning for the "new" Fenway Park (even though she was totally opposed to replacing Fenway Park). That's big!

By the time I got back from my outhouse studies, Kathy had brewed up a pot of gourmet coffee and we three sat by the cook stove drinking a couple of cups. After coffee, we toured the house. We had seen the kitchen and the living and dining room. Kathy took us upstairs into what was originally a hayloft and was now a very cozy bedroom, then down stairs into a study with lots of windows and filled with books, a desk, and a fly tying bench.

Kathy showed us a picture (ca 1938) of the farmhouse that stood next to the present building. The house was in disrepair and was torn down right after the picture was taken. The current house was originally a barn. The homestead had been built prior to the American Revolution. The original owner had gone off to fight several times during the war.

Kathy asked me if I had read Longrider. (I was somewhat taken aback. Longrider, A tale of just passin' through, (c)1998, was written by Mark Tiger Edmonds, a teacher at St. Leo College in Florida. In it he describes his travels around the country on his BMW motorcycle. As a BMW rider, of course I've read it. I even have an autographed copy. But how does she know about it?).

In the book, Tiger Edmonds wrote about visiting Ed Calver, who had retired to live a hermit's life in northwest Massachusetts. "Oh not a real hermit exactly. He taught the local kids Latin and Greek and how to play the harpsichord... But most of the time he hung out on his mountain, alone. Reading, writing, and thinking, when he wasn't cutting firewood or pulling water up out of a hole with a bucket and a rope. No electricity, no running water, no amenities, hell, he didn't even have a door on his outhouse. When I asked, he explained there was no one around for miles, and it was too beautiful a view to obstruct with a door."

That explains all the windows on the new building.

All too soon it was time to go back up to Lorin's for breakfast and good byes. Lorin's daughter Laura lives there now, with her new baby and the baby's father. Although they had a lot of help putting on the supper, breakfast was pretty much on them. But they still had a good supply of neighbor ladies' pies, blueberry and pumpkin. With that and a little bacon, breakfast doesn't get much better than that.

One by one, the neighbors arrived, some walking out of the woods at the edge of the hayfield, and others by car. By now I recognized their faces but I don't recall their names. This had been a pretty nice event, just the same. No one wanted it to stop.

(Later, when I told Dana Lewis about Lorin's memorial, Kathy's neat little house, and Lorin's wonderful friends and neighbors, we agreed that Lorin must have had a hand in making this event so memorable, as he has done so many times before.)

Before I rode out, I scouted the orchard to see what the bean can blank canister looked like. There was no sign of it anywhere. It was, I guess, blown all the way to heaven and gone.

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