Gotta love 'The Guv'

Whatever your politics, you have to admit Vermont Governor Jim Douglas is a good man.

I've had several encounters with him as a member of the media and as the owner of my photography business and every time he has impressed as a true gentleman and willing to do all he can to make those who come in contact with him feel at ease, important and respected.

The first time I met The Guv was when the BFA-St. Albans boys and girls hockey teams were feted at the Statehouse, where a proclamation was read honoring them for winning state championships on successive days.

After the ceremony on the floor of the House, the teams were given a tour and met with The Guv in his office. He was presented with gifts, including a BFA jersey. Although he is from Middlebury, which lost to the BFA girls in the finals, he gamely donned the apparel and I snapped a few pics in my role as the then-Sports Editor of the St. Albans Messenger.

Over the years, our paths have crossed maybe a half-dozen times and each time I've left the encounter impressed with his gentle grace and indomitable enthusiasm for meeting with his constituents.

This trait is often mocked, but to suggest it's a facade is off the mark.

Saturday night was a perfect example.

I was hired to take photos - posed and candids - of the 100th anniversary of the Buffalo Soldiers first arrival at Fort Ethan Allen in Colchester. The event coincided with the national convention of the group, which was founded 143 years ago.

The Guv, I later learned, thought the event would end around 8:30 p.m. (which is what I was told, as well.) Instead, it stretched to nearly 11 p.m.

The Guv, whose day started in Southern Vermont after leaving his house at around 6 a.m. - I'd tell you how I know this, but then I'd have to kill you - ended with his trip to the dinner honoring the memory of this illustrious group of black soldiers.

A lesser man would have been miffed (Howard Dean) or even thrown a fit of pique (Dean!), but not our Guv. He sat through the long dinner (attended by and mostly for the benefit of out-of-state [read non-voting] people) and at the last minute accepted an invitation to preside over the installation of the national group's newly-elected officers.

At one point  the head of the association - which held last year's national convention in Las Vegas and which will have next year's convention in Washington, D.C., - remarked that The Guv was the first head of a state to attend their function.

Finally, around 10:30, the event seemed ready to close.

But The Guv's night was not over.

While I'm sure another governor I encountered (the damnable Dean) would have bolted for the door, our Guv hung around to let every one with a digital camera - and that's everyone these days - take a photo with, or of, him.

He even relented - with typical aplomb and a understandably weary smile - to allow me to take a group shot (not at my urging!) with the officers of the association. (see photo at the top of this post)

This must have been a particularly tiresome endeavor. He was scrunched into a bench alongside other proud men while more fine people were posed around him. It must have took five minutes to set up the shot - during which a studio light was toppled and camera malfunction occurred, slightly delaying his departure further.

I apologized, but he could not have been more gracious.

Finally, the photographs were taken and he was on his way home. I'm guessing he opened his front door at around midnight and I was told he needed to be back on the road for a 9 a.m. event back in Southern Vermont.

I remarked to his driver/body guard that I'd never want his job, if only for the travel, and he assured me The Guv keeps a schedule like this on a continual basis.

Talk about above and beyond the call of duty.

(On a side note, the officer I spoke with related that he resides in Chittenden County and after dropping off The Guv back in Middlebury he still had a trip back home ahead of him. He was also on duty on Sunday. If he got four good hours of sleep, I'd be shocked.)

But I digress, as usual.

The final point I'd like to make is a quick one.

I can't imagine Howard Dean - a man I truly dislike on a very personal level and it has nothing to do with politics - being remotely as gracious.

My run-ins with Dean - a pompous, arrogant jerk of the first order - were limited, but revealing.

As a cub reporter back in the day I broke a story about a factory egg farm opening in Highgate. It was big news at the time and I wrote extensively on the subject.

One fateful Dean was making the rounds in Franklin County and visited a Fairfield farm - the Howrigan farm, if my memory serves.

I used the forum to ask a technical question about the egg farm and was basically called a fraud who made up facts and printed them to scare people.

I was aghast; embarassed to the core.

I went back to the office, called my sources in the state Ag. Dept. and was told that everything I had printed was indeed true.

I was incensed.

Dean had purposely lied to people about my reporting ability and used his bully pulpit to bring into question any further reporting I might do on the subject.

In hindsight, it was brilliant politics.

On a personal level, it was a sleazy thing to do.

When Dean ran for president I told everyone who would listen that he was a bully and would eventually display the temper that he directed at me in the barn that day.

History proved me right.

Again, I'm not saying you have to like The Guv's politics (for the record, I do, but I also voted for Dean before I got to know him) but you have to be proud that we have a man in that office we can be proud of and who represents Vermont in the best possible way.

Encounters with dumb deer and Mr. Macho

I understand that this blog has a Dear Diary feel to it, but it's 2:11 a.m. and I'm wired so here goes it.

First of all, happy to be able to post. On my commute back from my 'temporary part-time' gig designing and editing sports pages at the Freeps I had a close encounter with a herd (flock? gaggle? bunch?) of deer just north of Milton on I-89.

I spotted the white eyes on the right side of the road about 100 yards ahead of me and began decelerating. One by one four Bambis made their way across my path. The last one stopped almost in front of me and I jerked the wheel to the left, missing the dumb thing by maybe five feet. I almost over-corrected and was lucky to avoid a trip down the median.

I was lucky there were no other cars to my left because it could have been an ugly scene.

I actually pulled off the road for a minute to recompose before heading home.

Having worked into the early morning for almost 20 years now, I'm used to the occasional close call with wildlife, but this one ranks near the top of the list.

That said, a couple of days ago I had an encounter with another animal, this one human, that could have also have been ugly.

On Sunday, in a driving rain, I stopped off at Costcos. There was an older guy - maybe mid-60s - reading a book in his Accura in the spot next to where I chose to park.

I didn't think much of it, grabbed my umbrella, and went in to buy some thumbdrives.

I came back out and the guy was still there.

Carefully, I opened my door and began fiddling with my umbrella, trying to get it back into the car without soaking myself.

My task complete, I reached for the driver's side door and noticed it was leaning up against the side mirror of the Accura. I looked up and was met with a steely glare from the driver of the car.

I mouthed the prerequiste 'Sorry' with the standard wide-eyed response and shrug of the shoulders, palms outstretched. In other words, the universal sign for 'My bad, but no harm done.'

Apparently, Mr. Macho, circa 1945 didn't read sign language.

He continued to glare at me like I was some foul-mouthed 9-year-old who had just hit a baseball into his backyard.

My apology unaccepted, I mouthed the words, 'Or not.'

And when his glare persisted I invited: 'Why don't you call a cop?'

At this point please remember, there was no damage to his car, my door had simply drifted to kiss the outside his mirror. There was no paint-to-paint exchange.

However, my muted words struck a nerve.

In a blinding downpour, Mr. Macho flew from his car and raced towards mine as I backed out of the parking spot.

He was a trembling five-foot something, 150-pound ball of fury, wearing - and I swear I'm not lying - fingerless gloves on his hands. Not sure if he was a bicyclist or a boxer.

Nevertheless, the following exchange, more or less, ensued.

Him: What's your problem!

Me: I said I'm sorry.

Him: Well, sorry doesn't fix the dent in my car!

Me: (after pulling back into the parking spot) Show me a dent. My door touched the outside of your side-view mirror.

Him: (Silence)

Me: Are we done?

Him: (Silence, followed by him storming off.)

Not sure if I ruined his day or made it.

(I know he made mine; I couldn't stop laughing all the way to the Freeps!)

All I know is that if push came to shove I think I could have taken him, fingerless gloves and all.

Would love to hear the heroic account he gave to his wife upon her return to the car.

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SHAWN CORROW, when he's not getting scared by Bambi and laughing at a Grumpy Old Men (the likes of which he's destined to become) is a freelance photographer/writer living in Franklin, Vermont.

I'm willing to be wrong

I'm still not over my grump about not getting Halladay (who pitches against the Yankees on Tuesday), but I'm willing to concede I missed the boat on Victor Martinez.

Some background.

I own not one, but two Jason Varitek T-shirts - I'm not a jersey guy and you shouldn't be either - but I digress.

I respect the Captain and all he has given the franchise, but his time has come. If he's willing to take a back seat to V-Mart, I'm surpised and relieved. 'Tek has value as a 3-day-per-week catcher. As long as V-Mart is allowed to catch three times, DH against lefties and spell Youk at first once a week, I'll buy into the plan.

But if 'Tek is catching five games a week, this is a dumb trade.

I still think 'Tek's ego (and by the way, if he wasn't on the 2003 steroids list then I will walk to Boston ... naked!) will get in the way and that come playoff time a rotation of Beckett, Halladay and Lester has a better chance to win than Beckett, Lester and ...

If, as reported, the cost for Halladay was only Bard, Bucholz and two minor league batters, then Theo missed the boat.

This will be a huge week for the Nation with two against the Rays - who own the Sox, especially at the 'Trop - and four in the Bronx.

By this time next week, the Sox could be golden or in a world of hurt.

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On an unrelated note, the photo biz continues to eat up much of time, but I still hope to post some photos from the Buffalo Soldier event and give my two-cents about our amazingly patient Guv.

I also might have a rip-job to do on a client and will try to fit in the story of a little, skinny old guy who wanted to punch me out at Costco today.

Stay tuned.

(If you like my posts, it might be a good idea to subscribe to this blog so you don't have to check back to see if I have posted anything recently.)

Thanks for reading this - I'm stunned at the number of hits the blog has received in the past four days!

Bold prediction

By this time tomorrow the Red Sox will have gotten Roy Halladay and Marco Scutaro from the Blue Jays in exchange for Clay Bucholz, Jed Lowrie, Jacoby Ellsbury and cash.

What better way to put the Papi story on the backburner and divert attention - good or bad.

OK, maybe it won't be THIS deal, but you can bank on the fact the Sox will do something HUGE tomorrow.

Well, duh!

Just got the news that Big Papi did steroids back in 2003.

Some will perceive this as shocking news.

Not me.

Of course Big Papi did steroids. I'm betting Varitek did, too.

But you know what? Who cares?

If someone told me that I could be out of baseball and broke or famous and rich and all I had to do was stick a needle in my butt, I'd do it. And most of you would too.

Heck, if someone told me now that there was something I could take that would make me a better writer or photographer but that it might make me die younger or grow bigger man-boobs, then I'd take that risk if it meant I could provide a better life (via more income) for my family.

I know, not a very PC opinion. But at least its honest unlike the gnashing of teeth and outrage this "outing" of Big Papi is bound to produce from some media members and citizens of the Red Sox Nation.