Goodbye 2011, Hello 2012, It's nice to meet you.

Well, here we are again, knocking at the door of another year. Does it seem like each year goes by faster than the next or is it just me? This one, while fraught with highs and lows, was a blissful blur.

From the marketing high of scoring a spot on the Weather Channel back in July to the October Blizzard slash blackout and resulting ice cream Armageddon, this year was one wild ride.

While the cool rainy Spring made for a sluggish start, the stellar dry, warm, but not too hot Summer weather made for another record year of cone sales. Thanks to all of you who were part of that. I do this gig to pay my mortgage and a couple other bills, but the pleasure of making people happy with what I do is where the real satisfaction lies for me. Rarely does it actually feel like work, and for that I'm the luckiest guy I know. It's demanding and the hours are long, especially from May through October, which explains the need to claim January to recharge the batteries, but it's still great fun, so into year nine we go!

Of course, I'd be remiss if I didn't give credit to my awesome scoop crew for all their hard work and kind-hearted service all year. People often compliment me and Mt. Tom's about how nice the people are that work here. That one always makes me feel good (of course so does the one where people tell me they like my ice cream better than that other place in Northampton ;), because I really do want people to have an enjoyable experience when they come here.

Special thanks to Hannah, Mimi, & Amy for allowing me to have at least a little bit of a life during the Summer.

So as I sit here and reminisce over all that's happened this year, it's easy to let the news get you caught up in all the bad things that happened. tornadoes, earthquakes, hurricanes, blizzards, notable deaths. I'm sure we've all made a choice or two we'd like to take back. But as they say, what's done is done. And with the turning of the clock at midnight tonight, a shiny and untainted new year arrives, full of hope and expectation. What does it have in store for us, well, that is unknown.

And as I learned from a quote on a chai tea bag given to me by a good friend, 'When you are in tune with the unknown, the known is peaceful.'

May the new year bring with it all your heart desires, and may the unexpected turns that make you stronger do only that.

Happy New Year!!

Finding the Holiday Spirit.

Season's greetings from my little ice cream workshop here in Whoville. Dogs are barking Jingle Bells on the shop radio. The Festivus and eggnog flavors are stocked and ready for scooping. I'm surrounded by half-eaten Christmas cookies and a small stack of holiday cards while behind me hundreds of jars full of sweet colorful goodness anxiously await the hands of many Santa's helpers. Before I get to the pepermint stick, er candy cane, ice cream pie making, I thought I'd jot a few thoughts into the trusty ice cream diary.

I'm sure you too are right now immersed in the sights and sounds and events that make this time of year so hectic. It's no wonder the days between Thanksgiving and Christmas go by so fast. Just too much to do - presents to buy, wrap, and ship. Cookies to bake, box, and share. Parties to plan and attend. And if you're in retail, this is it for you, make or break. That's a lot of pressure all around. No wonder why it can be such a stressful time of the year.

Having said all that, I also think it really is the most wonderful time of the year. And here are my whys...

It's a time when people think about others more than themselves.

What should I get for Mom? I just need one more little gift for my brother. A gift for the boss. At the surface, it may seem commercial and perhaps it's your least favorite part of the holidays. But thinking about everyone but yourself for a week or two can't be a bad thing. Not a bad thing at all.

Christmas day is the ultimate 'being in the moment' moment.

I remember when I was a kid, I looked forward to Christmas morning so badly it hurt. It was just about all I could think about. Is Santa going to come through for me? Was I nice enough for that Death Star Lego Set? Time seemed to move backwards for those days leading up to C-day. And when you finally woke up on Christmas morning, well before the sun and probably even before the dog, and dashed down to the living room to see what treasures lay beneath the tree, it just didn't get any better than that. And Mom and Dad always seemed to take forever to get out of bed. Once the eggnog began to flow and the gift opening frenzy finally began, it was pure and innocent bliss, even though it was over in an instant.

Christmas morning is the time when you don't wish for any other moment. You're in it. You're not thinking about the day before or December 29th.

Christmas makes living in the moment look easy.

People are generally a little nicer. At least when they're not fighting for a parking space.

If you consider Facebook a virtual mood ring as I do, there seem to be less status updates of woe and bad politics and more of an uplifting nature this time of year. Like the one I just read about a friend who was in Rite Aid with her young son. He was playing with a little Matchbox car in line until they got to the checkout counter where Mom made him put it back. When she began to pay for her items, the cashier told her the man ahead of her in line had left money for the little matchbox. By that time, he was long gone, never even turning back for a thank you. How can that not make your day.

People make time to spend time with their families.

When I was a kid, our family would go to Grandma's in Fitchburg every Christmas eve. Dad's entire family would congregate there for a day of winter holiday fun. Sledding and snowball fights served as appetizer for a giant Finnish dinner, culminating with the arrival of Jolly Ole Nick, usually in the form of a poorly disguised missing uncle. With all the predictable fanfare, Uncle Santa would ho, ho, ho across the lawn as he shook a belt of bells, giant pillowcase of presents slung over his shoulder. As a young believer, it was a brush with greatness. Eventually, it became more of a warm and entertaining photo opp, played out in the same way every Christmas eve shortly after the consuming of the roast beast and Lanttulaatikko. Santa would stay just long enough to pass out a single present to each person.

When his pillowcase was empty, Santa would stand up, wish everyone a very merry one, and dash out the door, disappearing back into the darkness of the backyard like a ballplayer in Field of Dreams.

Soon after, my brothers and I would be tucked into our action figure sleeping bags in the back of the station wagon, and home we would go. All along the way, we'd gaze out the windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of Santa's sleigh darting across in the sky. I remember thinking we saw him once, only to later be told by Dad when we got home to our still unvisited home that it was probably just Skylab.

It's a Wonderful Life.

What would a holiday season be without watching that timeless classic at least once. The line "No man is a failure who has friends" pretty well sums it up for me.



We dress up our houses to look bright and cheery.

You may think it's crazy the way some people cover their entire house and yard with lights and inflatable animated holiday characters, and perhaps you'd rather weed your lawn for six hours on a 90 degree day in August than stick a giant snowglobe on it. I will say, though, that I found myself last Christmas eve, sitting in my brother's SUV, over on Lawler Street, with he, his wife and their three kids, watching the thousands of lights flicker in time to the music playing on the car radio. I know it made me feel warm and Christmassy and a bit like a kid again. If you don't believe me, I recommend you do a driveby tonight yourself.

Our houses smell like the forest, only warmer.

A Christmas tree is the original aromatherapy.



While it's nice to receive, most of us really do find it better to give.

I don't know about you, but when I've found that perfect gift for someone, even if it's just a three dollar whoopie cushion for my brother to use to compete with the sounds his six year old son makes with his mouth on the side of his arm, it's way more enjoyable than opening up one of my own.

People reach out a little bit more to those less fortunate.

If only homeless shelters and food kitchens had as much help on a cold day in February as they do on Christmas or Thanksgiving day, this world would definitely be a better place. I suppose the same could be said about church or other structures of worship, but that's a whole 'nother topic. While it's hard to knock anyone for wanting to do something good on any day, wouldn't it be great to discover a way to harness that awesome giving spirit a little longer, even just to help get us through the cold New England winter.



A shiny new year is just around the corner, ready to offer up a fresh start.

Much more to say on that topic, but perhaps I'll wait until next week for that one.

In the meantime, I hope the spirit of the holiday season finds you and immerses itself deep in your soul right through into next year.

Life is just a precious collection of moments, and may these holidays bring with them a few more for yours.

From the entire crew and myself, Happy Holidays!



Peace.

A Sunny Thanksgiving.

As the wrath of winter continues to elude us (hope I didn't just jinx it) and December rolls on somewhat uneventfully, I thought I'd post up a few photos from my recent trip to Florida for Thanksgiving.

It was a quick but very fun long weekend full of quality family time, amazing food and drink, beaching, and even a trip to the zoo.

I hope yours was equally as fulfilling. And if not, there are a couple other holidays just around the corner to get it right.

I thought I might share a few in hopes that it might give you a brief respite from the doom and gloom of your daily news and status updates. Worked for me anyhow.

After all, life is just too short for gloom.

My niece living in the moment...

Come here often?

Such a cool zoo that lets you pet the giraffes. Just don't linger or you'll feel the fury of the crazy lady in the red shirt..

Five nephews/niece and counting..

Cousins out for a sunday drive...

Table under the mango tree..

We may never know whether he was pushed or just fell into the pool during the group shot. In any event, the rest of the kiddos got a good laugh out of it..

Rock, paper, scissors, shoot...

I know these next few weeks get pretty hectic with shopping, parties, wrapping, trimming trees, and making cookies, but I hope yours are only the best kinds of hectic. Full of good family, friends, and cheer.

Enjoy!

jim

The week the power went out. And stayed out.

It started innocently enough. Just a couple weeks after we were enjoying temperatures in the 80's, along come the weather forecasters with last minute predictions of a good old nor'easter snowstorm. I think most of us just assumed 'great, rain that changes to snow for a little while and looks nice on the rusty trees, then changes back to rain'. A little inconvenient but not a big deal.

The first signs of trouble came in the form of giant snowflakes to kick off the storm, hours earlier than predicted. Snow right from the start, ruh, roh. The driving got dicey within the first hour. No, this would not be any ordinary early season snow event.

By dark, six inches or more lay like a lead blanket on the ground and in the still leaf-covered trees. Outmatched limbs succumb to the weight, taking with them power lines, transformers, and garage roofs. Lightning and brilliant green flashes of exploding transformers lit up the sky. Winter had entered the building, and she seemed really mad about something.

By around 9 pm, most of Hampshire County was in the dark. Who would have thought that darkness would last for nearly a week.

Of course, losing power is one of the few major anxieties I have as the owner of an ice cream shop, a business that relies pretty heavily on electricity to make and maintain its product. The days of enjoying thunderstorms ended when I plugged in my first dipping cabinet freezer. It's hard to describe that sinking feeling an ice cream shop owner gets when their shop goes silent. We know the unique rattle and hum of each freezer under our employ, and when one sounds different when you walk into the shop in the morning, you know your day isn't going to go as planned.

The good news is if you don't open the freezers, the ice cream inside will remain intact for around 4 to 6 hours. Longer than that, and bad things start happening. The most common question I get is, do you have a generator. Well, yes, but..

It's definitely better than nothing and under normal circumstances, just the knowledge that it's at the ready calms my nerves during most power outages. It won't power all my freezers, so they take turns, two at a time. This will work for a day or two at the most, but things go downhill rapidly from there. Needless to say, four days without power led to the premature passing of many tubs of ice cream.

That was the downside of last week's crazy weather. We dodged the destruction of the summer tornadoes, hurricane Irene,and the earthquake, so I guess it was just our turn.

There were some bright spots in all that cold darkness.

Discovering the upside of social media.

I must admit, Facebook posts from friends and particularly Pat Brough and his Eastampton Good News Page, when the network would let you in, was my main source of power restoration effort updates. Few had concrete answers, but at least it gave you something sometimes soothing for the nerves. The 2011 version of sitting by the battery-operated radio. I've often questioned the good-ness of social media, but I must admit, Zuckerberg and his posse stepped up to keep us informed and connected this time. Of course, it was kindof nice to not have it so accessible. Everything in moderation, as they say.

Random displays of the kindness of friends and strangers.

During the first few days, most of us were in the same boat. Cold, dark, coffee-less, and basically clueless. Neighbors checked on each other. Mayor Mike set up charging stations, food shelters, and provided updates. As power started to return, those who got it back offered their homes to others without. Casey at the Apollo Grill, opened up his candle-lit restaurant to all who got the word. With the help of his gas grill, he sustained many through those first couple days. Weary townsfolk played board games, chatted, and enjoyed great food and beverages for gratis in his cozy respite from their cold and dark homes. Fun and heart-warming. Thanks Case.

A taste of the (good?) old days.

It really is amazing how attached we've gotten to our gadgets. I can barely remember life before the internet. We take it for granted now, like indoor plumbing and supermarkets. I wanted to write something and had to grab a pen and an old journal made from a tree. It felt a bit strange, slow, and inefficient. But wholesome at the same time. I'm not saying I want to go back to tapping on an old typewriter, but I do think my eyes, and soul, enjoyed a few days away from my glowing screens.

When the storm was over, an almost eerie calm settled into our small town. It was beautiful.

Life just slowed down.

Power was finally restored late last week. The weather warmed up, the snow melted, and Autumn resumed..

The storm of 2011 is gone, along with all the snow and that giant Mulberry tree in my backyard, but we won't soon forget the week the lights went out. It's something I hope to never repeat for as long as I peddle ice cream, but all fiscal losses aside, it was a life experience I think we will all hold onto for a long time to come.

Off-Season Begins.

With the first use of the word 'snow' by Ashley over at the 22 News desk today, Halloween next week, and the end of Daylight Savings Time not far behind, it seems safe to say 'off-season' has officially returned to Mt. Tom's and me.

The lines are rare from here until early Spring, and the crew schedule is much thinner. Meanwhile, the espresso machine steps it up for those deep dark hot chocolates, hot apple ciders, and Chai lattes. Thankfully, we live in New England where her hearty residents have been known to hold a cone with a down-filled mitten while walking through a blinding snowstorm.

May thru September are a whirlwind for we ice cream purveyor folk, and that's a very good thing. In these latitudes, you definitely gotta make hay when the sun shines from high in the sky. With your support, it's been another banner year. So a wholehearted thanks for coming out all summer. And for telling your friends about us. That's the part that really makes the difference, and I can't thank you enough. We'll keep making the best ice cream we can, and if you keep telling your friends, this little adventure I started now eight years ago will be around for many, many more.

Last time I blogged, I mentioned a few off-season projects I was kicking around for the trusty Diaries. One is the Sundae Experiment - stay tuned. That one, although takes some time, is really fun, and I still plan to continue it now that I've gotten my life back.

The other was to take a stab at a rewrite/reprint of the original Ice Cream Diaries. You may have caught the first episode here a month ago or so. After rereading a few more of those early rants, I've decided not to redo the whole set. Although there are definitely some great nuggets in there and it certainly captured those early days, at least for me, I realize they might be better left where they lie. You're welcome to peruse them at your leisure if you haven't already, and I have every intention of stealing material from them for future projects, but I'm scrapping plans for a rewrite. I wasn't technically a kid back then, but in entrepreneur time I definitely was, and while I've shaken those start-up jitters along with a bit of the thrill of the newness of it all, it's still a great gig, and I wouldn't trade it for eight years of weekends off.

Speaking of writing, next up, Novel-in-a-month, 50,000 words in 30 days, who's with me? If you don't see many blog posts around here next month, it's not for lack of writing anyway. Wish me luck. I have only scattered thoughts and random notes, but I figure I'll just hatch a few characters and see where they take me. Should be fun..

Along with burying myself in this challenging project, my other November goal is go on an internet diet. I can't deny that Facebook, email, Google News, MassLive, and the like have changed the way we live and interact. Sometimes, though, it just feels like too much information. I know that probably sounds a bit hypocritical coming from someone writing in his blog for anyone to see. I just thought it might be refreshing to see if I could live without constantly knowing what all my 'friends' are doing, or about the next war casualty that happened just twelve minutes ago. With all that reclaimed free time and a couple good ideas, 50,000 words should be a piece of cake.

Ice cream cake of course.

And if you're out and about for the upcoming Easthampton ArtWalk, I hope you can pop in and take peak at some of my favorite new and local images. My untitled show starts with the November ArtWalk on the 12th.

Thanks for reading, and hope to see you soon.

Jim

Change Happens.

I bumped into a friend the other day in a local bookstore. She had just traded-in a box of books for cash, which she most likely returned to the owner of said bookstore for a smaller stack of books on the way out. 'I'm cleaning out my house, getting rid of all the clutter,' she jubilantly declared.

My response was, 'me too!' Clothes that haven't been worn in years, blog notes and to-do lists for things long done or left undone, weeds in the yard, expired condiment bottles turned science projects in the back of the refrigerator. Out with the old, make room for the new, as they say.

A friend/customer came in the other day and was giddy about the dumpster that just got delivered to her driveway. 'I can't wait to clear out the house of all my old stuff!' She could hardly contain herself.

It seems the change in seasons often finds us hankerin' for change in our own lives.

So we attack the things under our control. Like the basement. Or the garden. Underneath the driver's seat of our Honda.

Saying goodbye to that which no longer serves us well. Although I've yet to see a scientific study to verify this, it seems the changing of seasons is a common trigger. Case in point, 'spring cleaning'.

Right up there with sports team collapses.

As I try to write about change and cleansing and rebirth, my mind can't help but return to the Red Sox and their 'historic' meltdown. Like a train wreck you just can't look away from, I can't seem to stop listening to the constant barrage of angry and broken-hearted Sox fans venting on talk radio or ranting through the comments section of the endless sports pieces from every analyst and blogger who ever heard of David Ortiz. It seems clear. Someone must take the fall for the fall. In a desperate attempt to gain some control over the situation, we fans, die-hard, bandwagon, pink hat or otherwise, speak our minds - 'Theo must go. Tito must go. Crawford must go. It's all Lackey's fault.'

Ah, if only we had keys to that cluttered Red Sox locker room, could we do some cleaning.

No one likes to feel helpless, so we fester and try to tell ourselves it's just a game. It doesn't matter. There are way more important things to get worked up over. We'll get 'em next year.

Perhaps they will or perhaps they won't. It seems clear, though, that when you don't get what you ultimately desire, you can either do the same thing again and hope it works out better on its own, or you can make changes you hope will improve the odds.

Last time it was art imitating life. Today it's sports.

I think 'Hoop' summed it up pretty well over on www.boston.com. I found this in the comments section of one of those countless post-mortem pieces..

John Henry may look like a milquetoast, but you don't build that kind of wealth without stepping on a few folks, and knowing that change is always needed from time to time to keep an organization on its edge. This organization has lost its edge, that is clear. It doesn't mean Tito and Theo are not immensely talented, it simply means it is time to refresh and rejuvenate.

Refresh and rejuvenate, I like that. I had to look up the word 'milquetoast', but I totally get the rest. I'm not going to lay all the blame on Tito or Theo or Letters to Cleo, but the point is clear. Change for change's sake isn't the answer, and cleaning your garage is much easier than facing a dysfunctional relationship or improving your self-confidence. But when things aren't working, perhaps a little closet cleaning may just be the gateway change needed to steer the ship toward what it is you seek, whether it be a world series ring or your own happiness.

The Ice Cream Diaries - Issue 1 October 7, 2003.

So it began.. It's hard to believe it's been eight years since I first set foot in the ice cream world. If I wasn't already feeling nostalgic, re-reading those first Ice Cream Diary installments has certainly done the trick. Here's the very first installment. I resisted the temptation to edit or contemporize it. I did correct a typo or two, but I wanted these old entries to stay true to the spirit of that moment, even if a few of those moments don't really make sense anymore. Fear not, I think they get more entertaining after the first couple. I may even sneak in a few more photos as I re-immerse myself in those 'good ole days'...


October 7, 2003

Hello from my new hometown of Easthampton, Massachusetts. I thought it might be fun to try to capture and share with my buddies a little bit of my new life as engineer turned ice cream man. Writing about myself may seem a bit self-indulgent, and I suppose it probably is, but I got beyond that by convincing myself it would be a good way to keep up my writing skills between batches of ice cream. You may remember last year at about this time reading my Dingo Notes and Kiwi Notes. Well, unfortunately I’m not now sitting in a cyber café, half-drunk on New Zealand house white, living out of a big green backpack with painfully dorky detachable day pack. Which also means I won’t be sharing stories of exotic tramping adventures atop majestic glaciers in New Zealand or dodging venomous snakes (or crazy young British tourists) deep in the Australian bush. Instead, as you probably already know, I am just about to start an adventure of a much different flavor. I have just completed the purchase of a candy store! I thought doing an email journal to capture the experience would be fun (and perhaps functional) for a few reasons. First, and most importantly, since my new business is in western Massachusetts, near the hip town of Northampton, I am now about eight exits west on the Mass Pike from most of y’all, and I thought this might be a way to help me keep in touch. Of course, I hope this will be just one of many ways to do that. Consider this an open invitation to come out for a visit anytime. Let’s just say I didn’t get a second bedroom for my fish.

The second reason for what I'm calling 'the ice cream diaries’ is to record the trials and tribulations and exhilarations of starting a business – a travel journal of sorts that I can pull off a dusty bookcase in thirty years to remind myself how naïve I really was back then. And for you, I wanted to find a way to share the experience, whether you simply enjoy reading as a distraction from an otherwise dull email box or you too are a closet entrepreneur and are hungry for a behind the scenes look. You might even learn something from my mistakes, er experience. I won’t even make you co-sign for my bank loan.

The final rationale for the IC Diaries is the romantic notion that no matter where this little ice cream adventure takes me, to success and eternal bliss or just another lesson to tell my little brother, it will most certainly provide fodder for future writing projects, perhaps even that prize-winning screenplay, “Ice Cream Diaries”. In any event, I hope you enjoy them, and if not, I won’t be at all offended if you send me an email saying “Stop spamming me with your endless ice cream drivel!” And if this is the only installment you get from me, that probably means it turned out to be much more work than even Dad had warned me about!

Having now set the stage, let me bring you up to date. If I haven’t seen you in a while, your first question probably is, how did you go from supply chain engineer (you probably never really knew what that meant anyway) to ice cream guy? It’s hard to say exactly, but it all started somewhere along my seventeen month sabbatical (that has a nicer ring than 'unemployment'). In the midst of travel, writing, socializing, moving, and watching reruns of the The Facts of Life, I finally realized my calling of engineering was not calling me anymore. Not even late at night when it was drunk and horny.

So as things went, I finished my travel adventures (rather anticlimactically at the Blytheville, Alabama WalMart where I quietly commemorated the completion of my quest to visit all fifty states), wrapped up my little coffee table book project, and next found myself being evicted from my cool apartment in Charlestown with just 30 days to figure out how to avoid living in an old couch under Storrow Drive. Rather than seeking writing fodder on the cold, hard streets of Boston, I decided that rather than move to a new apartment and be faced with another move when I got a job, I chose to go home again. Yep, I’ve been living in the folks’ basement for the past few months. And as 'unnatural’ as that sounds (credit to my Aunt Alma for that fitting adjective), it synchronicitly (I think I just made that word up) put me again under the same roof as one famous ice cream man, my Dad. He has been in the ice cream business for forty years. As it turns out, ice cream truly is in my blood.

My Dad, ‘Dave’, created a couple different shops, the second one he sold just a month before I was laid-off back in April of ‘02. So I’m knocking around the folks’ house in Mansfield, picking up old copies of the National Dipper, a magazine made by and for ice cream makers, and I come across an old box of MBA school notes. In the box is a complete business plan that I wrote back in Entrepreneurial Studies class. The business I chose was ‘The Ice Creamery’, one of Dad’s shops. You don’t have to hit me over the head three times to get my attention. From there, I started peppering Dad with ice cream shop questions. For the first time, he didn’t try to talk me out of something, like when I wanted to put a hot tub in my bedroom back in high school or when I threatened to quit college to become a rapper. Dad still did his best to talk me out of it by painting a picture of long hours and Johnny Damon-like headaches that come with running your own business, but I could always tell he was secretly hoping his illustrious ice cream career might just have one more chapter to be written.

From there, the search for the perfect location to bring my ice cream dream to life was on.

In the next installment (should you decide to stay with me), I’ll tell you how I ended up in Easthampton, give you a taste of the twist of fate it took to land my first ice cream gig, and tell you why I am have quickly become my nephew's favorite uncle. Hint: it has something to do with the fact that my new ice cream shop is also a candy store…

Have a great week, go Sox!

Your bud,
Jim
CSO – Chief Scooping Officer
Mt. Tom’s Homemade Ice Cream, Inc.