SoCal Bill McDonald – Page 2 – Irrational exuberance in Southern California

Giddy up

Update: A distinctive new horse has come to REINS. Cosmo is an Appaloosa.

In the spring, I turned on a local channel to watch a sporting event that was to start at 9 am (a common occurrence on the West Coast). I caught the end of a morning news show. It was a live feature about a program right down the street from me.

The program is called REINS, Riding Emphasizing Individual Needs and Strengths. It is a therapeutic horse-riding program, offering therapy to nearly 200 students, including children, adults, and seniors.

I learned relatively soon after moving here in 2012 that I lived in “horse country.” Neighbors have them and there are several programs and facilities involving horses nearby. I had considered being closer to horses as a goal during my time here. I had driven by REINS, however, many, many times and had not followed up.

Watching the television program, the REINS spokespeople said they continued to welcome volunteers. I realized they were talking to me. Went online, provided my info, attended an orientation session a couple of days later, and started my Tuesday morning shifts beginning of May.

My duties are varied. I shovel poop, rake straw, fill water barrels, groom horses, bring the correct tack out for horses scheduled that morning. “Tack” is the term for items for a saddle horse, e.g., saddle, stirrups, reins, etc. There are particular sets of tack, depending on the horse and the rider.

Most of my time, though, is spent as a “side walker.” Each rider is accompanied by a therapist, walking alongside the horse’s left side. For some riders, a side walker also walks alongside the horse’s right side. It may be because the rider is young and not especially stable. Or it may be possible the rider could have a seizure. In any case, the side walker is principally there for safety reasons, as well as to open gates and perform other minor tasks.

Ah, the horses. There are a couple of dozen horses at REINS, somewhat evenly split between geldings (neutered males) and mares. Two of the mares are miniatures, most often used as ambassadors for the program at fairs and local schools. Some of the horses are quite large. Grooming them, I often have to reach above my head to brush their backs.

The horse in the above photo is one of the larger ones. I’m reaching above my head to touch the saddle. A couple of things to note about this horse. His mane has been cut back to form a short “crewcut.” You can also see a “K” shaved in the coat on his neck. That’s the first letter of his name, “Konah.” He is a Fjord Horse, one of several at REINS. As you’ll see in the photos below, the appearance of each Fjord Horse is similar to others, so the initial shaved into the coat is to help humans identify the specific horse.

The Fjord Horse is considered the world’s oldest known horse breed. They have been bred by Norwegians for more than 2,000 years and were used as war horses by Viking warriors. According to webmd.com, the Fjord Horse’s “placid personality makes it popular with horse enthusiasts from many disciplines. It’s a naturally people-oriented companion that adults and children can ride safely.”

The mane, when not cut back, is full and somewhat difficult to manage. Its thickness and mix of black and tan hairs allows for variations. Below is Sarah, with a checkerboard style.

The photo below is not a horse at REINS, but shows the mane when allowed to be full.

There has been research that shows positive effects from riding horses, especially improvements in balance for those with motor disabilities. I regularly side walk a little girl who is unable to talk and can walk only with assistance. She seems to enjoy the physicality of the horse, resting her head along her horse’s neck and placing her hand on the large shoulder muscles as they move. She also enjoys the short trots, enthusiastically bouncing up and down.

For me, I enjoy being of help to people who benefit from this therapy. I also enjoy being close to horses, despite their daunting scale. I also get something of a workout. Generally, I walk about 10,000 steps each morning shift, including a few running when trotting is called for, and also do various physical actions, e.g., lifting saddles onto and off of horses, that are not typical for me. Mostly, though, it’s just learning the various personalities of the horses, listening to them gallop, and walking with them down clip-clop lane.

I start some “advanced” training next week, learning to “lead” horses on the walks. Giddy up!

To the Max

Back to Torrey Pines in late January for for what I think was the 11th consecutive year as a volunteer at the Farmers Insurance Open (still checking on 2015). Third straight year as hole captain of 3 South.

Former Cal golfer Max Homa won the tournament, coming from five strokes behind. Sam Ryder shared the first round lead and was sole leader after rounds two and three. Four holes from the finish, Ryder shot a double-bogey on the 15th. He finished with a 75, tied for fourth, four shots behind Homa.

Homa shot a six-under 66 in the final round to beat Keegan Bradley. Third was Collin Morikawa, another former Cal golfer. Homa took home $1,566,000 and two trophies, one with a representation of a Torrey Pine, the rare and endangered species that grows only in coastal San Diego County, and the other a . . . what else? . . . surfboard.

Max Homa with wife and newborn and his trophies. USAToday photo.

This year’s tournament was the second in a row to end on the last Saturday of January. The schedule had been changed from the usual Sunday finale so as not to conflict with the NFL conference championships, one of which was also broadcast by CBS.

This year, the pro-am returned after a one-year absence (COVID), which brought my crew of “gallery managers” to the course Tuesday-Saturday. It seemed a bit odd at the pro-am, because the public was not allowed on the course and we had no “galleries” to “manage.” Though it started early (first group off the 1st tee at 7 am), there were only 14 groups on each of the two courses (North and South), and we were finished before 11 am. (Until 2022, we were termed “marshals,” which may have been considered too “martial.” Now we are more anodyne managers.)

It was brisk all of the mornings on the course and not “warm” except for Thursday afternoon when it reached the high 60s. It was usually in the high 30s/low 40s when I left home in the morning. Thursday also featured blustery Santa Ana winds throughout the day, sometimes gusting to 30+ mph. Saturday never reached 60 degrees.

I remember past tournaments sometimes featuring a cold day or two, a rainy or even stormy day or two, but this year was steadily less warm than usual. I wore five or six layers on my torso each day, removing my outer official Farmers Insurance Open jacket only during Thursday afternoon. That was the only time my tournament shirt was ever visible.

The big fashion change this year was my hat. The tournament wants hole captains to be distinctive in dress so that officials can locate them at each hole. Whereas gallery managers and other are to wear khaki pants, hole captains wear black pants. Gallery managers wear the issued ball caps and until this year hole captains had worn a wide-brim straw hat with a black hatband. This year, hole captains were issued “hodaddy” hats, apparently to convey better the San Diego surfing culture. Reaction among hole captains was very mixed. Most recognized that the wider brim was better for sun protection, but the style was iffy for many. Here’s a comparison.

The hodaddy hats were not off-the-shelf products. The tournament logo could have been added to any hat, but these hats featured on the liner under the brim a color drawing of hole #4S, the hole that obviously follows #3S. Distinctive.

TV announcers for the tournament frequently talk about the beautiful setting at Torrey Pines. There are many wonderful scenes. Here are a couple of aerial views, provided by the CBS drone and Goodyear blimp.

Aerial view with the focus on 3S, front and center. Hole #4S runs along the bluff at left, south to north.

From above the Pacific, looking toward 3S.

One of the advantages of #3S (for managers) is that fans only have access to the right side of the fairway and green and are quite a distance from the green compared to most other holes.

Among the larger groups of fans at #3S viewing action on the green.

It does sometimes get busy in terms of players, people, etc., especially with several tees and greens close by. The view below shows the close proximity of the 2nd green, 3rd tee (of which there are five, but only two were used in the tournament), 4th tee, and 5th green. Fans following a group on the 3rd tee are often puzzled when they are signaled to be quiet when those players are not teeing off . . . but those on 6 are.

It also can get interesting when the golfers leave the 5th green and cross the 3rd fairway to reach 6th tee. They choose several different routes.

People-watching is another of the pleasures of this volunteer experience. Here were two special sights.

This elderly couple conveyed a retired pop star style.

This young girl was _stylin’_. My granddaughters admired her outfit.

All but two of the members of the 3S crew had worked the hole during my tenure as hole captain. Robin Silva was a welcome addition, as was Andy Nocon, who joined us on Friday and Saturday, moving over from the North Course. Both were as focused, responsible, and fun as veterans Frank Barone, Patti O’Neill, Rick Taylor, Steve Dillard, and Dawn Norman. Steve and Dawn also joined us for the final two rounds from the South.

Two years ago, I believe it was the PGA that chose new titles for the previous marshals and reconfigured the organization of volunteers on each hole. Technology has become increasingly important in providing information to broadcasters. Volunteers with tablets mark on the representation of the hole on their screen the position of each ball after each shot. And that is linked to “the truck,” the central brain of the telecast. That’s how announcers can tell you a golfer has a 238-yard shot or a 16-foot putt.

While the techies had been on the sidelines of each hole in the past, they had been designated two years ago as the “competition support” group and included “tee spotters,” who from the tee indicate with paddles the path of each tee shot, and “ball spotters,” who locate balls hit off the fairway into the rough. These latter tasks had been the responsibility of marshals, under the direction of the hole captain, and tee spotting had been shared among marshals, many of whom enjoyed the task. They are completely separate now, under completely different chains of command.

That differentiation or roles and personnel has still not been smoothly integrated across the board. On as short a hole as #3S, both groups are in close proximity and we’ve been able to work together collegially. Our tee spotter was distinctive. Liam O’Callaghan is 16 years old and a member of his high school golf team. He called in sick to school Wednesday-Friday, but improved greatly on Saturday.

Here’s a photo of the entire team — Gallery Management and Competition Support — at #3S. I don’t know full names of the other CS folk, but will seek to find them out and will update.

Now, I have to take the new clubs I bought last summer and get out on the links. I’m sure new clubs will transform my game!

Ode to 2022
I was seriously remiss in not posting about the 2022 tournament. No real explanation for it. Let me just post a photo of last year’s excellent crew, several of whom returned this year.

Merry Christmas and Hanukkah 2022 and Happy New Year 2023

Writing this in the midst of reports of a “tripledemic” of COVID, flu, and RSV, it feels as if we’re caught in some kind of warp — things are getting better, things are getting worse . . . . One columnist wrote it seems like Middle Ages redux.

It’s the most wonderful time of the year, though. And there is still good reason to share good tidings and cheer. Also to share news of important loss.

Larry and an egret, Oceanside Pier, during the 2020 visit by the Kenahs.

The most significant event of 2022 for me and many others was the unexpected death in June of close friend Larry Kenah. I’d known Larry since early years at Boston College, nearly 60 years. In recent years, Larry sent me a note on St. Patrick’s Day, thanking me for hosting a party that holiday in our senior year at our Brookline apartment. It was then and there he met Marcy McPhee, soon thereafter his bride and partner over the next 50+ years. Marcy, Larry, and I were frequent golf and BC football game companions when I lived in Greater Boston and, since my relocation to North San Diego in 2012, their home was my home away from home on my annual visits East. Rest in peace, Larry.

Our “family photo” is even more discombobulated than usual this year. Recent illnesses in my household, COVID and otherwise, just made the process difficult. Photos of the Andersons, for example, are from New Hampshire, on their trip in the fall.

Julia and Sam, as well as Dillon, are enjoying their second winter in Ypsilanti, Mich. I visited them in late August, the first time I had been with Julia in three years. Dillon has his own apartment close by and is working at the National Center for Manufacturing Sciences in neighboring Ann Arbor.

In late November, I had what I believed to be a very small basal cell skin cancer removed from my forehead. It wasn’t small. The process left a rather large wound, requiring a bandage taking up half of my forehead. Not photogenic, so my photo in the composite is from my time as a hole captain again at the Farmers Insurance Open in January. The marshal who took the photo called it “Billy and the Blimp.”

The summer 2022 issue of Boston College Magazine contained a little feature about an old grad, the magazine’s founding editor . . . me. I didn’t know when the magazine was to be distributed. I got congratulation emails from East Coast friends three weeks before the magazine made its way West.

Normally, I join a group of classmates and spouses for a football game or similar event each year. This year, after so many activities curtailed, we sought a solid block of time together in a nice place. Of course, I kept suggesting San Diego. Not surprisingly, we ended up at the other side of the continent and it was grand.

The Captain Isaac Loveland Homestead, c. 1850, Chatham.

We rented what had been a B&B in Chatham, Mass., at the outside crook of the elbow on Cape Cod. Each couple and single had separate bedrooms with bath and it was in a great location for walking to the beach or downtown. In addition to just chillin’ together for several days, we visited the Monomoy National Wildlife Refuge just off the coast to see seals and birds. Some of us took a trip to Provincetown. Also was able to visit other friends who had joined the contingent of those who don’t just visit the Cape, they live on it. You can see much more here.

Does anything say “New England” better than this Chatham scene?

Returning to Boston, I caught up with several colleagues at BC, family, and friends. Because Avis wanted a certain vehicle back at Logan Airport and that’s where I was returning my vehicle from a suburban location, I was offered this at the same price as an economy model. Had not driven a vehicle that big. It was fun! Lent me a certain panache. Weird, but it had California plates. A gas station attendant in Winchester, Mass., asked, “You didn’t drive that out here, didya?”

Obligatory pets pic, Cinderella and Baxter, with Addy.

Merry Christmas and Hanukkah to you and your family. May 2023 let us be free!

Airbnb-ing

In the last two months, I used Airbnb twice. I had never used it previously. They were for practical reasons, not vacation, and the locations were unconventional or, perhaps in some minds, “funky.”

The first location was seven minutes away from my house. With the Andersons on vacation in New England in mid-October, it seemed the right time to have our house fumigated for termites, as had been suggested by pest control firms. That’s the tenting you see, usually on houses going up for sale. For two days and nights, the house would be inaccessible. This was the view when I left.

I chose a place nearby, but not just for location. The site was described as a mini-farm, with various animals about. I texted the owner when I was about to leave and she replied that I should text her when I arrived at the gate, because the tortoise was out. I wasn’t totally sure I was at the correct location until I saw this.

The owner told me the tortoise, King Tut, was the animal that tried most often to escape, and sometimes was successful. Her phone number was painted on his shell.

Pepper drinking from the fountain outside my door.

When I was introduced to Pepper, I was told she was “the guests’ dog.” She liked to spend time with visitors, the owner said. Indeed, Pepper spent a lot of time sleeping just outside my door and always greeted me when I arrived at the farm.

My residence was at right.

Here’s a gallery of other animals on the property.

[Show slideshow]

A few weeks later, Anza-Borrego Foundation held only the second bi-monthly board meeting in person, in Borrego Springs, in nearly three years. To reduce my 90-minute commute to the meeting, I rented an Airbnb closer to Borrego Springs, in the Chihuahua Valley of Warner Springs.

Well, the remote location was “closer,” but it only reduced my drive to 60 minutes. This location was also on a mini-farm and the facility was called “The Barn.” I arrived near sunset, driving the last couple of miles on dirt roads.

Here’s an overhead of the location, with the Airbnb at upper right.

And, indeed, it’s a barn.

The upper level is the living space. And the door is pure barn.

The “kitchen” was spare but functional. I had brought a frozen dinner and was to meet folks for breakfast in Borrego Springs, so the kitchen could be minimal.

Once again, I had farm animals for company. Again, I arrived near sunset and was to leave shortly after sunrise, so I spent a little bit of time checking the animals out before nightfall. Here’s a gallery.

[Show slideshow]

Yes, ostriches.

Also, remote as the site was, more than farm animals are about. Several signs warned renters of potential sources of danger.

Leaving the next morning, I drove several miles almost all downhill before I came to a sign indicating the elevation was 3,000 feet. I guesstimate “The Barn” was at an elevation likely in excess of 4,000 feet. That explains why the morning was so “brisk.”

I found both experiences pleasurable and interesting. I do want to get back to the Chihuahua Valley. The landscape is, to me, magnificent. I hope to take future visitors there, too.

I rated both units 5 stars. Neither was the epitome of luxury and comfort, of course, but that’s not what I wanted anyway. These were relatively inexpensive, comfortable, met all my needs, and provided very interesting experiences.

‘Nixon wins.’ WTF?

On November 7, 1972, only several days more than 50 years ago, I was at the offices of the Beverly (Mass.) Times, where I was an editor, preparing for coverage of the local, state, and national elections taking place that day.

It was just about 8 pm, when nearly all the East Coast polling places would close. Suddenly, I heard the UPI teletype machine a few feet behind me ringing its bells — a “flash!” It was typing out news of major significance and immediacy! Before I even reached the machine, it stopped.

I held up the paper with the flash announcement. “8:01 pm. Nixon wins.” My head said, “Whiskey-tango-foxtrot.” It had been one minute since voting had stopped on the East Coast, most of the rest of the country had one-three hours more to vote . . . and the election’s been decided?

As one who had favored Senator George McGovern, running against incumbent U.S. President Richard Nixon, this was a stunning blow. Of course, just about every pundit had predicted a Nixon win. This, however, had been of stunning proportions. Nixon took 61 percent of the national vote, winning 521 votes in the Electoral College.

McGovern won only one state — the one I was in, Massachusetts. I’m pretty sure I remember seeing a sign that had been later erected unofficially on the roadside at the border of Massachusetts and New Hampshire. It read something like, “You are leaving the United States of America. Welcome to Massachusetts.”

The rest of the evening at the newspaper was busy. Most of us were in our twenties and most of us had favored McGovern, so that lent the evening some sadness. We got over it. Nixon? Less than two years later, he resigned from the Presidency in disgrace after being threatened with impeachment over the Watergate scandal.

Trip East — Boston redux and home

I had made a reservation for a rental car months earlier, to be picked up in Acton, Mass. Ed drove me out to the location Monday morning.

From the cars offered online, I had selected a Mazda CX-5 SUV, which is the same model as I have at home. I figured I would know how to operate things. The Avis rep in Acton, however, told me, “We haven’t had a Mazda out here for years.” Okay. I was then informed I had two vehicles on the lot from which to select, because I was returning to Logan Airport and Avis wanted them there. I would not pay extra. One choice was a minivan and the other choice was this.

Of course, I took the Tacoma. I’d never driven a vehicle this big, but I figured it would be fun. And it was. Kinda weird, but it had California plates.

When I was getting gas later in Winchester, the attendant asked, “You didn’t drive that here from California, didya?”

The picture of me and the truck was taken by Nate Kenyon, director of marketing and communications at BC’s Law School, the first BC person I visited that Monday. Later, I met Maureen Raymond outside the Lower Dining Hall, now officially Corcoran Commons. Maureen and I had worked together at the Lynch School and we’re almost “related.” Her daughter and the son of my cousin Kathy are married.

We were joined soon by Taylor Mooney, the liaison at BC for our alumni chapter in San Diego, whom I had only met earlier through Zoom. It didn’t take long for Maureen and Taylor to recognize each other — Maureen had been Taylor’s advisor at the Lynch School.

I later met Mary Ellen Fulton, also a former colleague at the Lynch School, at a bakery in Newton Centre and then headed back to campus to reconnect with Lee Pellegrini, with whom I worked at BC back in the ’70s when we started Boston College Magazine. Lee is still taking great photos for BC.

Jumped in the truck and set out for Plum Island, near the border with New Hampshire, to spend the night at the home of the aforementioned cousin, Kathy. Was a bit tough to get the truck next to her Jeep in the driveway of her small cottage, but did it. Always a joy to catch up with her and her family, and with our ancestors, in photos.

Her location is more coastal than mine and is not at all similar, except maybe for fog. Here’s a view.

At some point, I realized I had not had fried clams yet. The New England way, with “bellies.” And I was in one of the best fried clam regions in the country — the North Shore. On my way back on Tuesday, stopped at the famed “Clam Box” in Ipswich and brought clams back to Winchester for lunch.

Later Tuesday, visited with Tom Burke in West Roxbury and then with Margaret Evans and husband Rob Sternstein in Brookline. (Why didn’t I take any pictures? Isn’t that what phones are for?!)

Wednesday was just prep for my departure later in the afternoon. Smooth transaction returning the rental truck and usual stop at Legal Seafood in the terminal at Logan to pick up some clam chowder.

Long plane ride back to San Diego, especially with the entertainment not working in my row. I had brought a book to read on the trip, but hadn’t started it. I took it out and read the 303-page novel. Still had an hour to go on the flight when I finished.

We took same route by Salton Sea in reverse this time. The lighting just wasn’t as complimentary as on the way out.

But the setting sun gave nice shadowing to the hills just west of San Diego.

Thankful to be home and not on the road. Miss the family and friends there and happy to join friends and family here.

Trip East — Chatham out and about

There’s often local reference to the “Chatham bars.” It’s not the nightlife, but the sandbars offshore. This was the scene on our harbor tour, showing waves breaking white-capped on the bars.

While the Chatham base was very comfortable and relaxing, we also got out to see more of the eastern end of the Cape.

The one excursion in which we all participated was a waterborne tour of Chatham Harbor and Monomoy National Wildlife Refuge.

Lots of sea birds.

And seals! Here’s a brief (30 sec) video.

And boats.

Including big yachts.

Pat, Tom, and I also made an excursion to Provincetown at the northern tip of the eastern portion of the Cape. Enjoyable place, with a certain style.

But first, a stop for oysters on the half shell. (I rushed to consume, and had two before I remembered to take a photo.)

At 252 feet in height, the Pilgrim Monument in Provincetown is the tallest all-granite structure in the U.S.

Then out to enjoy the scene.

Had the chance later to catch up with Cape friends, too.

Lunch on the beach at the Chatham Bars Inn with Karen and classmate Richard Sullivan.

After breakfast at the Cranberry Valley Golf Course with classmate Steve Curran and his wife, Kathy. She took the picture. Steve and I didn’t know each other at BC. We met when we ended up shipmates in the Navy, aboard USS Biddle (DLG-34).

Steve and Kathy dropped me off in “downtown” Chatham for souvenir shopping.

Too soon our idyllic time on the Cape was over. Most of us split up to head home, but I had a few more days in the Boston area. Jackie and Ed were kind enough to bring me to their place in Winchester, northwest of Boston proper. And that’s the next post.

Next: Boston redux and home

Trip East — Chatham base

The main purpose of the trip East this year was to join classmates and friends for a week in a nice place and just enjoy each other’s company and the place around us.

We (particularly the Downeys) chose Chatham, located at the outside edge of the crook of the Cape Cod “elbow.” Again, for those who could benefit from orientation, here’s an overhead of Chatham. The red oval marks the location of the house in which we were staying.

Pictures, of course, do it more justice.

Some of the house had been the c.1850 homestead of Captain Isaac Loveland. Ken and Debbie Hamberg, Ed Hattauer and Jackie Hewitt, and I each took one of the three rooms in the “stables” (below and just out of the picture above to the right).

This was my “stall.”

Inside of the main house wasn’t too shabby either. Here’s the kitchen.

Seven bedrooms, each with bath, plus a half-bath.

Here’s a gallery of photos of the interior of the main house.

[Show thumbnails]

We also spent a lot of time outside, often for dinner. A gallery of the outside space.

[Show thumbnails]

At one point, while some of us were sitting outside, we had visitors.

This was at our last dinner at the house.

L-R: Ken Hamberg, Jackie Hewitt, Ed Hattauer, Pat Sugrue, Shelia Downey, Dan Downey, Debbie Hamberg, Tom Sugrue, and me. Marcy Kenah had left for home.

That dinner featured my annual martini with Tom. This year, purple!

Among our meals, of course, was lobster, in both whole and roll forms. This was my lobster roll.

We got out and did some things, too. That’s in the next post.

Next: Chatham out and about

Trip East — West Dennis

The day after the BC game, I joined Pat and Tom Sugrue on their way to Cape Cod. We were all due to gather in Chatham Monday afternoon, but Pat and Tom were to meet friends that Sunday and I was going to visit Susan and Reid Oslin.

After visiting with David Gay and his wife in Bourne, the Sugrues brought me to the Oslins’ home in West Dennis.

For those who could use some orientation, here’s a satellite view of the Cape. West Dennis is just left of Dennis Port on the southern edge.

Before going to the West Dennis Yacht Club that evening, we took a short walk around the area. West Dennis is marked by its interaction with the Atlantic.

The “Dennis fingers,” protrusions of land. were constructed by the developer of this part of the community.

I was glad I was with residents of West Dennis, because I might have gotten confused by some of the street signs in the neighborhood.

The occasion for a visit to the Yacht Club was . . . fireworks! You know, the Labor Day fireworks. ??? Seems fireworks intended for the 4th of July were never expended because of COVID regulations. Here’s a brief video of fireworks, Labor Day-style. (There’s an error in the title. It should read “West Dennis Yacht Club.”)

Next: Chatham Base

Trip East — BC

In late August, I started a two-week trip “back East.” Caught a BC game, enjoyed a week on the Cape with good friends, and finished with family and friends in the Boston area.

Two interesting views on the way to Boston. First, soon after departing San Diego, we flew just north of the Salton Sea. This was the first time I’d seen it from this perspective. Brilliantly blue, this view belied its troubled state.

Later, we flew over Chicago.

East of Chicago, we went over two distinctive and storied rivers, the Quabbin Reservoir, and took an unusual route into Boston. My usual flight is a red-eye, so this was a nice opportunity to see things I usually didn’t.

Quabbin Reservoir, central Massachusetts

Our route to Boston included flying directly over Logan Airport, so we had this uncommon-to-me view of the city. The red rectangle in the right-hand portion of the photo marks the BC campus.

Visiting with BC classmates, we (at least the guy portion) attended the opening football game on Labor Day weekend against Rutgers.

Here is a brief video of the BC band as it marched through tailgate land to Alumni Stadium.

Tailgating near Gate A were these Golden Eagles.

All members of the Class of 1968, L-R: Ken Hamberg, Ed Hattauer, Tom Sugrue, Dan Downey, Ken Higgins, and yours truly.

Here is a brief video of the team entering the stadium.

Most of us had high hopes for the Eagles this season. Those hopes were slightly dampened by the 22-21 loss to Rutgers in this game and then steadily drowned in subsequent games.

But . . . as always . . . go Eagles!

Next: West Dennis