Travel Log: Vacation '26 (Part 3 of 4): Fenway Park

Editor's Note - This is the third of a four-part series summarizing our wonderful vacation of 2026. I will return to #CoachJeff's regular format next week.

You didn't actually think you'd get through a week of blog posts without a mention of baseball...did ya?

Well, for those who were worried (and even those who weren't) today's post focuses on our day at Fenway Park. When I wrote the piece summarizing my quest to visit all 30 ballparks back in the spring, I noted that the classic parks - Wrigley, Dodger Stadium, and Fenway are in a class by themselves. And after our day at the corner of Landsdowne Street and Brookline Avenue, I'm more convinced of the fact that ever.

And here's a bonus: It just so happened that my favorite team, the Atlanta Braves were the opponents for our vacaation baseball day. So much the better. 

I will confess it was hard not to root for the home team, however. 

The Braves won the game in convincing fashion, 10-2, thus depriving the contest of any drama. Ronald Acuña Jr. burst the game open with a grand slam over the Green Monster. in the sixth inning. At that moment, you could feel the New England air deflate from the crowd. 

Normally, I would have been sad along with the Red Sox faithful but not on this day. I didn't chop and chant as some Braves fans did that day. But I did cheer.

Apart from the game itself, I took time to admire this venerable structure that opened in 1912.

Some highlights from the day:

• Paul enjoyed a Fenway Frank
• We strolled the grounds outside the park
• We even sang along with "Sweet Caroline" in the 8th inning

I'd say all of that adds up to a full day and a rich experience.

When you are fortunate enough to enjoy such a rewarding vacation, it's hard to pick one moment or one event as your favorite from the entire trip. But it sure would be hard to bet against a beautiful spring day at Fenway.

JG

Travel Log: Vacation '26 (Part 2 of 4): Arthur's Way

Editor's Note - This is the second of a four-part series summarizing our wonderful vacation of 2026. I will return to #CoachJeff's regular format next week.

In yesterday's edition, I hinted at my family's ancestral roots. Today, I'll tell you one of the driving forces behind why we went to New England for our 2026 Vacation.

In the 1630s, our family's patriarch, Arthur Gary, made the Atlantic Crossing. Along with his wife Frances and his two oldest sons, William and Nathaniel, Arthur landed in Nantucket, MA and settled in Roxbury, a suburb of Boston. A third son, Samuel, was born in the New World. 

Born and baptised in 1599 in Bishop's Stortford, Hertfordshire, England, Arthur became a town leader once he settled in Roxbury. His son, William, also became a town leader.

Later, William's son William was born in Prince George County, Virginia, thus beginning our family's Southern migration. First to Virginia, then South Carolina. And on to Northern Mississippi/West Tennessee. Fourteen Generations. I'm in the 12th. My adult children are in the 13th. My cousin's son recently welcomed a baby girl earlier this spring. 

The 14th generation of Garys in America.

But, I digress. With all due respect to southern states, the #CoachJeff focus today is on Massachusetts!

In tracing Arthur's way a bit further, we found he passed away at the age of 67 and was buried in Roxbury in 1666 in the Eliot Burying Ground. His wife, Frances Warman Gary (also spelled Fransis, in some references) passed away a few years later in 1672. Sbe was also buried in the same cemetery.

During our last trip to Boston (2019), we took an Uber ride from downtown to Fenway Park for the Red Sox Memorial Day game with Cleveland. If we didn't drive just past the Eliot Burying Ground, we were awfully close. According to Google Maps, the Eliot Burying Ground is 1.8 miles away from Fenway Park. 

Sadly, we didn't know Arthur and Frances were buried in Roxbury when we made that 2019 trip. In fact, I think Holly ran across that fact sometime in the following year.

So, you see where I am going with all of this. Holly's fact-finding informs the "sequel" to our Boston trips. (Or whatever the third installment is as, technically, this was our third Boston trip. We were there, first, in 2007).

Anyway, in planning Vacation '26, we knew we wanted to build time for a couple day-trips from Southern Maine to Boston for lineage and line drives.  Once we determined how close the two entities are co-located, it made sense to bundle them. And we knew we needed to visit Arthur's grave and pay our respects.

Visitors to the Eliot Burying Ground actually needed to reach out to the City of Boston Parks and Recreation department in order to gain access. I made that contact a few weeks in advance. So, during the day of our visit, we were set. Gray, rainy skies in the morning gave way to electric blue in the afternoon.

So much the better.

We didn't have a record of where to find the graves of Frances and Arthur. So, upon entering the space, the four of us decided to fan out. After we had covered all parts of the graveyard with no success, I pulled up the listing for Frances in Find-a-Grave.com and saw there was a small building in the background.

That helped us orient ourselves to the location.

Find-a-Grave also noted that Arthur's stone was partially broken off and was unmarked. So, finding the tombstone for Frances was the key. And, sure enough, with the building in the background of the online photo, we honed in on the location.

It was a spiritual moment. 

Right in front of us was more than 400 years of family lore and text etched on the stone told the story. 

Frances Warman 

Aged 71

Dyed 1672

 

Can you imagine? Someone etched those words on that stone some 354 years ago. And the text is still legible today. The moment was moving, to say the least.

We all paid our respects. I said a few words. Then, I offered up a prayer. 

The prayer thanked God for keeping them safe during their travels; served as a devotion for their bravery; included a benediction on behalf of 14 generations in North America that have survived and prospered over the centuries. 

We owe a lot to that courageous couple. And on a brisk day in Boston, a group of modern Garys made their own pilgrimage to pay tribute. 

JG

Looking ahead: More on our 2026 visit to Fenway Park in tomorrow's edition.

Travel Log: Vacation '26 (Part 1 of 4)

Editor's Note - This is the first of a four-part series summarizing our wonderful vacation of 2026. I will return to #CoachJeff's regular format next week.

Somewhere way up the in our family tree, the Gary family migrated south from New England. Thus, for years, our northern European constitution melts in the sweltering summer sun. I thought about that Saturday as I worked outside amidst the heat and humidity!

All that to say: while many vacationers take to the sand and surf for their annual getaways, we Southern Garys have always enjoyed exploring refreshing cool climates when we are on holiday. Such as it was for Vacation '26.

Back to our New England roots, so to speak. 

Our base of operations was a small cabin along the shores of Southern Maine. Comfy, but rustic. Just the right amount of space for the family and conveniently located in York, Maine. 

During the summer of '07, the four of us were visiting Boston and decided to make a day-trip up the coast to Maine. Along the way, we discovered Nubble Lighthouse (formerly known as Cape Neddick Light). The first time we were there, it was mid July but you'd never know it. As we were playing on "the savage rocks," the lighthouse foghorn sounded just before a thick fog rolled in.

Nearly 20 years later, the four of us describe that day as magical. And, we've been back to the location several times since then.

Most recently, last week, we explored the park on the nubble, we hiked up the street to have some yummy ice cream and we worked our way down the rock formation to the edge of the shore.

No fog this time but it was still a fun day.

Around York, we also:

• Enjoyed a couple local restaurants
• Did some souvenir shopping
• Visited a local thrift store

We also drove up the coast a short way to Kennebunkport and saw where the Bush brood--former Presidents and Governors and all the family--spend summer vacations. What a special place.

Mostly, we enjoyed our time at the rustic cabin: reading, snoozing and just being together. Talk about a relaxing home base for our travels. 

Looking ahead: Tomorrow, I will tell you a little more about my ancestors and our New England history.

JG

Happy Birthday!

Today, I want to borrow the #CoachJeff airwaves (as it were) to send out a special Happy Birthday greeting.

The birthday greeting goes to my sister, Lisa. In our family, we call her "Lisa Bear" (as in the Momma Bear, Poppa Bear and the Lisa Bear).

• Sweet
• Creative
• Artsy
• Kind

A wonderful mother to two beautiful daughters. And a great baby sister.

Here's hoping she has a special day. Couldn't ask it on behalf of a nicer person!

Happy Birthday Lisa!

JG

Programming Note - I am just returning to town from a wonderful vacation. Next week, I will do four special #CoachJeff "Travel Log" editions to recap our travels. Regular format will return a week from Monday.

Failure Brings You Freedom

I'll bet you didn't have a Taylor Swift lyric in a #CoachJeff blog post on your bingo card.

But here you go...B-I-N-g...

Back in the winter, I found myself driving a lot and listening to my Sirius/XM while the smash single "Opalite" was racing up the charts. And I found myself really enjoying the song. And really leaning into the line mentioned into today's title.

Failure Brings You Freedom.

I've been thinking a lot about the notion of grit recently. Maybe that is why the line resonates.

During my baseball coaching days, I saw so many instances in which parents wanted to shield their youngster rather than having them deal with minor nuisances or discomfort. I wrote about this during the earlier iteration of #CoachJeff.

When our team was still finding its way, I had one dad basically tell me his son wouldn't be coming back to the team for a second season because, well, we weren't winning. And, after all, winning is fun!

Coincidentally, after the kid bounced from team to team over the next few years, the dad strongly hinted they'd love to come back once we started consistently winning. Ahem.

We didn't have any openings at the time...

But even though we had stepped up to a more competitive league, some parents were still seeking comfort. One mom asked if we were still doing snack time; another parent asked me about participation trophies for the fellas. 

Uh...no.

But the topic isn't just relevant in the old Chopper Nation. It's true off the field as well.  Some folks tend to lean into the drama. Lisa actually wrote on this topic some years ago. Check out her post here.

I have heard a number of people in my circle talking about how hard things are. How can we cope with it all? When it rains it pours!

In my book, those thoughts might be temporarily soothing, but they don't problem-solve. Solutions develop when you actually deal with the discomfort, power through them and work the problem. 

And, when you succeed, not only is that euphoric in the moment, it builds confidence. 

The dad who bailed on the Choppers (before we were the Choppers) wasn't willing to go through another season of learning (and losing). But if he had been willing to stick around, what a great message that would have taught "Junior." The folks who did stick with the ball club during the lean years really enjoyed the hard-earned success that eventually came.

So, that brings me back to my original point. Failure brings you freedom.

I think about how awful that romantic break-up felt when I was 20 years old. And a year later, I met my future wife.

Failure brings you freedom.

I think about the early years when Lisa and I ran a small newspaper. We eventually decided to close the paper because we just couldn't make the finances work. But, that experience catapulted us ahead of our peers into great jobs early in our career.

Failure brings you freedom.

It's a time-honored lesson that plays out over and over.

So, when you are up against it sometime, just remember the line. Maybe hum it to yourself. And power through.

I predict you'll be pleased with the results. B-I-N-G-O.

JG

Gud DX

Last weekend, the world of amateur radio celebrated the CQ World Wide WPX Contest.

Many serious radio sport contesters and casual "chasers" filled the airwaves with the goal of logging as many stations as possible. Sponsored by CQ Magazine, the stated goal of the contest is:

The WPX Contest is based on an award offered by CQ Magazine for working all prefixes. Held on the last weekend of March (SSB) and May (CW), the contest draws thousands of entries from around the world.

One of the popular activities in the ham radio hobby is the pursuit of DX and a contest offers a great opportunity to do so. You can run the dial and, in short order, contact (or "work") stations from a number of different nations in short order.

For me, it is always a thrill to know that my radio signal has traveled over the oceans to be received by DX stations.

DX is the abbreviation for distance in ham radio.  Or put a slightly different way, talking to an operator in a far-away land. 

There is some wiggle room as to just what constitutes as far enough to be DX. For me, I'd say anything outside North America qualifies. 

For the record, there are 340 "entities" around the world. The website Clublog ranks them in order of rarity in its "Most Wanted" list.  As I review the list, the most common of the least common nations I've not yet worked is Mauritania (listed at #192 on the Most Wanted).

Just one slot above Mauritania is St. Barthelemy (sometimes shortened to St. Bart's). St. Barthelemy is a overseas collectivity of France in the Caribbean. 

The other day, I received a QSL card in the mail from a German operator who was set up on St. Barthelemy during the winter. 

So, by virtue of that confirmation, I was able to check off it off my list. The German op congratulated me on the accomplishment. Kind words, indeed. In ham radio lingo, it is known as "gud dx."

Collegiality is one of the nicest elements within the hobby and you often find it in the pursuit of gud DX.

It is not uncommon for operators in northern, wintery climates to find a sunny destination to set up for a while. They call it "operating in holiday mode" and these ops are happy to work you. No doubt that was the plan for him.

And, quite honestly, there are a number of hams who travel to far off destinations, set up and give the rest of us around the world to opportunity to log another entity.

Among the 340, I have "worked" 227. It's hard to imagine me getting over 300. But, it is sure fun trying.

For the record, the most rare nation I've confirmed is Bhutan (#55 on the list). 

Where does the U.S. on the list? If you guessed #340 out of 340, you'd be right.  Guess there's just a lot of us operators in America. Still, I like to think that many DX operators are just as excited when their radio signals are received in the states.

JG

Men With Hats

Last week, I introduced you to our two cats - Scottie and Kells. When we first got them, they were fearless. 

Guests to the house were greeted naturally like the comings and goings of the residents of the colony. But then, change happened slowly. And dramatically.

We noticed the visits of friends and family resulted in fast exits to the basement. And any introduction of vendors or service providers to the abode prompted a frenetic mad dash.

Then, it happened.

When a vendor came last summer to service the HVAC, the tabby siblings retreated to the basement and took their usual position behind the furmace.

Bad move.

What they didn't know (and where their misculation quickly became clear) was that the repairman would be working on the outside of their hide-out. 

• Banging
• Grinding
• Drilling
• Sawing

And more odd fumes than a feline's heightened sense of smell could bare.

From that point forward, enemy number one at our house: men with hats.

You see, our HVAC rep wears a particular type of hat. I have one of them myself. Great for keeping off sun when working outside. They are quite popular.

I've seen them labelled as being "a fishing hat" or "a sun hat." Either way, I found a display of these lids at a local retail establishment. 

I have to be careful not to wear mine around the skittish creatures. In fact, for a few days after the aforementioned incident, I was also branded an enemy. For that week, any man (hatted or othewise) was to be feared. Hats, still, are judged with complete disdain.

Eventually, the terror wore off. And, then, we enjoyed a return to a hat-free normalcy.

But it is a new normal. And it is so different from our previous cat, Roger, who was known by some as "The Mayor."

For the new guys, there are only four acceptable additional members of the cats' colony - mother, father, sister, brother. Those four plus the tabbies complete the list. Any other visitor is scrutinized quickly and dismissed as unworthy company.

• A knock at the door? They gone.
• Holiday gatherings?  They're out.
• People looking after them while we are on vacay? No way.

Guests come. The quick retreat begins. Fortunately, when most folks show up, they are generally men (or women) without hats...and not preparing to bang or saw.

JG