Thursday, January 27, 2011
Why?
We moved from Brackenridge after my freshman year at St. Joseph HS. I don't know why as there was never any discussion. As a matter of fact, I cannot recall any family talks, etc. There was no weekly family counsel and calendering of events; no family prayers morning or night and never a blessing asked before a meal, though the Catholic Church had a "standardized" one to use. What My dad earned working in three different factories is a mystery as any sales/profits earned from 'Frank's Boat Work's," or the "stand"-which is what the little drive up food place was always referred to. When we moved to Espyville Station, PA., I have no idea of how the address was located. When it was purchased the house stood close to a 'T" in the road, with the wrap around sun porch the existing eatery. The lady?/owner was quite a liar saying she made $150.00 alone, just on selling french fries on a Sunday. Of course it was a lie, since her crappy parking lot could only hold 3 cars at a time. After we "modernized" by tearing out the bushes and putting in draining pipes to fill in the ditches, we could hold about 15 cars. I think the first week day we were opened, we made $7.20 in sales. Pymatuning Lake was a must come and visit tourist area and only really busy during the summer months. Today, it is a ghost town and no one even fishes the Lake anymore. As I said before, we painted the brown sun porch white and put in 4 'x4' windows, replacing the old panes. The entire house was brown wood shingles. We found out that when a section started to fade, Mrs Early "Re stained it," with used motor oil-just hand me a match, please! Away from the house was a two story barn-cement block on the bottom and vertical wood boards on top.The first time we went up (with Mrs Early), the floor was about 6" deep-with bat droppings-she"kept meaning to clean it out" At night, 100's and 100's of bats flew out of their perches which were spaces in the wood boards. We tried everything to kill or get rid of them: shooting them with 22 buckshot, sulfur candles, and all kinds of sprays. It is a wonder that none of us ever got bitten and had to get a rabies shot. About 1972, my dad decided to move the house and stand and have a normal looking small sit down eatery built. called the "Duck Inn." Mistake, as in a very expensive error. I remember an 80 year old man came and jacked up the house and put roller logs underneath so it could be pushed to it's present location. The nearby Amish community came and completely removed the barn for the price of keeping all the wood and blocks. They didn't let the bats bother them one bit. The other pests: mosquitoes. Attracted by the stands lights at night. We had two electric units with black lights and it would attract and zap them-about 5 lbs/night. we should have just let the bats alone to eat them. The house and barn stood on 5 acre's of land, mostly overgrown, with a section of a creek passing through where we would spear suckers in the spring spawning season. Total cost for it all:$15,000 or 150/ month. The dinning room had wall paper-turquoise background with giant sea shells They say that Mr. Early(I think they were divorced or separated) drank a lot. I would too, looking either at Mrs Early(bath water? What's that) or go in the dinning room, which is where he slept when around. A banker in Pittsburgh told my dad to have enough cash to live on for 3 years and my great uncle Balash(grocer), said 5 years. They were right; he didn't. We about starved the first winter and the house had no insulation and it was heated by oil, which we went through like water-even with hanging blankets on the windows to keep out the cold winds The inside of the house was like living in a ghetto. When dad finally got a steady job, in a couple of years, he, Bill, and me completely gutted the inside of the house smashing down the walls with sledge hammers, iron bars, and keeping a rag over our mouth and nose so as not to breath in the 75 year old plaster. Then it was insulated, rewired and plastered with new thermal windows. Guess how much Bill and I got paid? That's right, nothing-and we worked till the blisters on our hands bled and we constantly blew the plaster dust from our noses. I worked in the stand-for free. When the new one was built, Bill, who was now an electrician, completely wired the place-material and labor? Free. It annoys me as I look back at those first3-5 years because my parents were going to lose the house several times for non payment of the mortgage. They didn't, because grandparents came to the rescue-paid the mortgage and drove the 135 mile trip loaded down with food..I only bring this up because I asked my parents for money-once. I lost my job and needed $40.00 to make the rent payment. No kids yet. So I called home. Mom answered and when I asked, she gave me a lecture and then hung up on me, not even saying good-bye. We lived in our car that week until friends gave us shelter and I landed a new job. After that phone call, I NEVER AGAIN asked my parents for anything, despite the 1000's of hours I worked for free for them from the time I was 7 years old-first the boat works and then the "stand." That incident always hurt me to the core, because without my granddad's money and grandma's help, my folks would have never been able to build or buy three houses-that, and my granddad hacked down almost all the weeds and tall grass at the Espyville property for free and by hand-he used a cy-cycle(sic) just like he learned to do in the "old country" of Europe. Then a push mower. Side Note: From my great grandparents and on,(and probably way before that) it was the pattern that the previous generation help by working hard and saving what they could to help the next(their kids) when they married, to buy a house and some land. That custom ended with my parents, who refused to help out their children even with a loaf of bread. And I can prove it. Because, if I needed something to eat, I would ask grandma, not call home. Their choice: A 600,000 house (worth about 90 now), on the lake, a Lincoln in the garage, thousands spent on fur coats and the best woman's clothing and shoe's, their championship bred cats and dogs-so I guess it is no wonder they were to broke to help their children out if needed. Bitter? No, just reality and we decided if OUR children needed some help-if we had it, we gave it. Like the lady who gave me a ride home as I stood helpless on I-74 with braces and holding a cane, in the bitter cold wind, 2 days ago, with a flat van tire), said: "it's what I do and I won't take any money"-just "pass it on."(YOUR turn to help someone if they are in need.) In closing, always remember the number "5" What(1) would(2) the(3) Master(4) do?(5)
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
the ugly brown coat and Viet Nam
Mom hated the color and material of my photographer's jacket. To me, it was a part of my skin. March, 1969, I bought a new VW bug, white with red interior. I think the total "new" price was about $1500.00 I was working 3 jobs while in college. On March 13, 1969 a teacher didn't show and I left early to go to work-the company made the plastic holders for milk, each one holding four one gallon jugs. 12th and Pittsburgh avenue. 4 lanes. At the light, I was in the inside lane to make a left turn, As I did, a lady driving a Fleetwood Cadillac, hit me broadside. She was going 80 in a 40 mph zone.Left 200' of tire marks on the road, trying to stop. MY HEAD HIT THE DRIVER SIDE WINDOW, AND TO THIS DAY MY LEFT SIDE IS FLAT, NOT ROUNDED LIKE THE RIGHT SIDE.(DA** CAPS KEYS LOCK. She spun me around and put a 4' "V" in the back where the engine was located. Then she hit and spun me around again-I whip lashed so hard, I yanked the seat from it's rails. I came to rest in a ditch, which had an old metal sign pole sticking out of the ground. It kept me from flipping over. The only thing that was left of the car was a rear side window, which blew out on impact(smart German engineers). I called my foreman and friend from the hospital to go and pick it up. I still have it today. The shoulder belt smashed 3 of my ribs. The car she was driving belonged to her brother, the owner of a Cadillac firm. No problem with me wanting to sue: one obstacle-back then you had to be totoally responsible for a wreck. She wasn't. Why? She had the "right of way."
My good Jewish boss of the motel got me an attorney. We could not have a case. And He was smart: ended up a PA. Supreme Court judge.
When I met with the State Farm Agent, the first thing he asked: "Well, do you want to get it fixed?"(Bent frame, cracked motor, besides all the visible damage.) My reply: "write me out a check for the full price as the car was 9 weeks old. And press hard-third copy is yours. What next to do? I bought another and this was a promotional bug with a lightning symbol followed by the word"bug," on the trunk. It was light blue with black racing stripes, a solid walnut steering wheel, wood dash, and Bosh chrome horns mounted on the front bumper. Black seats. And this car made heads turn because the first "Herbie, the Love Bug," movie just came out. This was a one in a million production car that drove like blazes and handle right angle turns with ease on its Michelin tires It was my third, out of owning four VW's. I called my mother to tell her I was in a very bad car wreck: she started to cry over the phone. I told her to bake a cake and put black icing on it. It was her birthday.
OK, the jacket. It was the color of new baby poop and had about the same feel, and it was about to take a long trip in the VW with 4 others: we were going to Washington, D.C. for the huge Viet Nam War protest. I was going to photograph the events as I still tried to keep a neutral stance about the war. Until President Johnson, who, as commander-in-chief, said it was a "limited engagement." In other words, we could "almost" be allowed to win, but when the enemy ran to hide in China, we had to turn back and quit fighting them. Reason. Johnson "feared a world war with china. Right. We are the richest, most powerful nation on earth. Real translation: it was a political war. Period. When I seen pixs of the coca-cola and Pepsi machines and the U.S. selling Minute Rice to the Vietnamese, I realized then it was not a war to save anyone or thing, just let the politicians make some American companies richer. Afterall, we could have bought the country for $4/acre. Over 58,00 kids dead and more than 300,000 brain or mentally screw up for life. A girl who worked in our little drive in had a brother come back. And almost every night they would go out and find him crawling on his belly, crying and screaming out of his mind through the corn fields. Those who were not mental usually became heroin addicts. Johnson was a master politician and one of the most evil men I came to know. When VP Hubert Humphrey came to lecture at Gannon College, I had a clearance badge I had to wear from the secret service. If it was Johnson instead, I toyed with the idea of using my large Graflex camera, which had bellows, long enough to conceal, well use your imagination. It was a terrible time for us to be alive at our ages because we never knew if we would have a tomorrow. When mom and I were dating, we always tried to stay together until midnight, so we could say we had a new day together.
Once we arrived in D.C., we found a place to crash with some "hippies." I went into the kitchen to see if there was any food for our dinner. The counters were brown. Then I saw them moving; they were covered with cockroaches. Some of us found a supermarket where we got bleach, bug killer sprays and enough food to make a 5 gallon pot of beef stew. There was a big pot and once we got things clean and the food cooking, the da** roaches couldn't crawl up the side or under the lid. The Army (illegal) was bombing DuPont Circle where a lot a kids were protesting against DuPont, the seller to the government of napalm, which is a gelled gasoline product used to burn people alive and wipe out their entire villages. They were bombing us with tear gas canisters and the night city lights revealed the dense tear gas fog. I grabbed my camera stuff and jumped on the back of someone's motorcycle to flee from the chocking gas. The next day, 100,000's gathered around the Washington Monument for peaceful demonstrations. I have no idea where all my film ended up-probably taken and classified as top secret and buried in a filing cabinet somewhere. Interesting side note. There was an American flag which someone completely covered with "protest pins" or buttons-about the size of a merit badge.This was just plain wrong to me and I removed all of them and pinned them to my photographer's jacket-not enough room in the pockets. It was time to go back to Erie, Pa. It was November and I was hired to work the Christmas season in Grant's department store-their photo center. So I put on my nice Eagle brand trench coat, over my coat with all the pins. I saw my future wife sitting in one of the restaurant booths and sat down across from her, Opened my trench coat and her jaw dropped. The only pin she saw for sure and which I gave her, said, "Frodo Lives." She was a die hard Lord of the Rings fan. Never knew what happened to that pin, but about 40 years or more later, I hand made a duplicate-same colors, style. Put it in a jewelry box, wrapped it up for a Christmas present. She opened it, not knowing what to expect. Then she cried. I always have been a sentimental fool, just most don't know it or recognize it in me. Oh well, such is life-it is the small, important treasures that give life to the person we cherish and love.
My good Jewish boss of the motel got me an attorney. We could not have a case. And He was smart: ended up a PA. Supreme Court judge.
When I met with the State Farm Agent, the first thing he asked: "Well, do you want to get it fixed?"(Bent frame, cracked motor, besides all the visible damage.) My reply: "write me out a check for the full price as the car was 9 weeks old. And press hard-third copy is yours. What next to do? I bought another and this was a promotional bug with a lightning symbol followed by the word"bug," on the trunk. It was light blue with black racing stripes, a solid walnut steering wheel, wood dash, and Bosh chrome horns mounted on the front bumper. Black seats. And this car made heads turn because the first "Herbie, the Love Bug," movie just came out. This was a one in a million production car that drove like blazes and handle right angle turns with ease on its Michelin tires It was my third, out of owning four VW's. I called my mother to tell her I was in a very bad car wreck: she started to cry over the phone. I told her to bake a cake and put black icing on it. It was her birthday.
OK, the jacket. It was the color of new baby poop and had about the same feel, and it was about to take a long trip in the VW with 4 others: we were going to Washington, D.C. for the huge Viet Nam War protest. I was going to photograph the events as I still tried to keep a neutral stance about the war. Until President Johnson, who, as commander-in-chief, said it was a "limited engagement." In other words, we could "almost" be allowed to win, but when the enemy ran to hide in China, we had to turn back and quit fighting them. Reason. Johnson "feared a world war with china. Right. We are the richest, most powerful nation on earth. Real translation: it was a political war. Period. When I seen pixs of the coca-cola and Pepsi machines and the U.S. selling Minute Rice to the Vietnamese, I realized then it was not a war to save anyone or thing, just let the politicians make some American companies richer. Afterall, we could have bought the country for $4/acre. Over 58,00 kids dead and more than 300,000 brain or mentally screw up for life. A girl who worked in our little drive in had a brother come back. And almost every night they would go out and find him crawling on his belly, crying and screaming out of his mind through the corn fields. Those who were not mental usually became heroin addicts. Johnson was a master politician and one of the most evil men I came to know. When VP Hubert Humphrey came to lecture at Gannon College, I had a clearance badge I had to wear from the secret service. If it was Johnson instead, I toyed with the idea of using my large Graflex camera, which had bellows, long enough to conceal, well use your imagination. It was a terrible time for us to be alive at our ages because we never knew if we would have a tomorrow. When mom and I were dating, we always tried to stay together until midnight, so we could say we had a new day together.
Once we arrived in D.C., we found a place to crash with some "hippies." I went into the kitchen to see if there was any food for our dinner. The counters were brown. Then I saw them moving; they were covered with cockroaches. Some of us found a supermarket where we got bleach, bug killer sprays and enough food to make a 5 gallon pot of beef stew. There was a big pot and once we got things clean and the food cooking, the da** roaches couldn't crawl up the side or under the lid. The Army (illegal) was bombing DuPont Circle where a lot a kids were protesting against DuPont, the seller to the government of napalm, which is a gelled gasoline product used to burn people alive and wipe out their entire villages. They were bombing us with tear gas canisters and the night city lights revealed the dense tear gas fog. I grabbed my camera stuff and jumped on the back of someone's motorcycle to flee from the chocking gas. The next day, 100,000's gathered around the Washington Monument for peaceful demonstrations. I have no idea where all my film ended up-probably taken and classified as top secret and buried in a filing cabinet somewhere. Interesting side note. There was an American flag which someone completely covered with "protest pins" or buttons-about the size of a merit badge.This was just plain wrong to me and I removed all of them and pinned them to my photographer's jacket-not enough room in the pockets. It was time to go back to Erie, Pa. It was November and I was hired to work the Christmas season in Grant's department store-their photo center. So I put on my nice Eagle brand trench coat, over my coat with all the pins. I saw my future wife sitting in one of the restaurant booths and sat down across from her, Opened my trench coat and her jaw dropped. The only pin she saw for sure and which I gave her, said, "Frodo Lives." She was a die hard Lord of the Rings fan. Never knew what happened to that pin, but about 40 years or more later, I hand made a duplicate-same colors, style. Put it in a jewelry box, wrapped it up for a Christmas present. She opened it, not knowing what to expect. Then she cried. I always have been a sentimental fool, just most don't know it or recognize it in me. Oh well, such is life-it is the small, important treasures that give life to the person we cherish and love.
time to leave
it's time to leave Brackenridge and move to Espyville Station, Pa. on Pymatuning lake. Pop. 220. The gone post office was someone's sun porch. The word station was added because it was by railroad tracks. Otherwise, we just called it Espyville. Today, it is a part of Linesville, another pimple on the map.
But before leaving the "Valley," I had three friends that I would consider to be "close. Terry Huet and his family moved into their grandfather's old framed house while they built a country home on 10 acre's. I spent a couple overnight's in their new home; once in the summer and then to sled ride in the winter. I was absolutely amazed how many stars are visible minus city lights. Allen had a moth collection and they would turn a spotlight on out back at night to attract them. I just could not believe how BIG a lunar moth is-about a 6" wing span with the ends shaped like comma's. Mr. Huet was a big brass for his company and weighed at least 280 lbs., compared to his 90 lb. wife. When they (and we) moved, I never saw or spoke with Terry again.One quirk about the family: NO TV was allowed in the house or rock and roll music played. Classical music was turned on at 6 Am and played non stop till bed time. They moved out of state because his dad died in his 40's:( Our favorite activity was playing next door at the Thompson cement block company. We would rearrange the blocks to make forts and also stack them behind the Legion as steps so we could go on the roof. Why? to throw water balloons at the Bingo players as they left the building every Tuesday night. Then we would race to hide in our club house and no one thought to look inside because, after all, it was an old chicken coop. Naturally, the cement company did not appreciate us rearranging their stacks of cement blocks and would put them back-which made us mad cause we would have to redo everything again and again.
Second friend-Oddie(sic) Meyers. Never new his real first name. His dad was police chief and the second floor of his garage was a complete darkroom set up. His dad also died suddenly while in his prime and Oddie showed me how a darkroom works. His mom became a barber, setup in the basement-also in the basement, in a 3' steel tub was a 3', 3 leg alligator which belonged to his younger brother, who could easily be on Animal Planet. The tub was covered with a sheet and if you lifted it up, the 'gator would loudly hiss at you, with breath that could wilt a flower. It would always escape, nstinctively finding the river. Some one would always bring it back because it was the only 3 legged alligator in town. When he ordered a small monkey(ads were in all the comic books-19.95, mom had enough when it tore up the house Back then, there were no government programs to help single mom''s. After the money collected during the funeral, she had to find a way to feed her kids. Back to the darkroom. When I saw my first photographs coming to life, I was hooked, and photography was a way of life for me. In college, I always wore a faded camel color sports-like jacket, and my 35mm camera was ALWAYS HUNG OVER MY LEFT SHOULDER. I became the college photographer for public relations, the school newspaper and the yearbook. I was the highest paid student employee. The college provided everything, including the darkroom, and I was paid 1.00/picture, even if they only used 2 and I printed 50. My second year, at Christmas break, I went home with more than 400 dollars-which in 1966, was a lot of money. Of course it had other perks: I just showed my press pass and got into everything free-lectures, concerts, ball games And I did spend a lot of time beforehand learning my skill: I took a photography course from NYI-New York Institute of Photography, and my school gold and blue pin was always on my lapel. I built my own dark room at my parents house in the basement and subscribed to "Popular Photography" magazine since it had tons of ads of where to buy supplies. Mom never liked the mag because at times it had photo's of girls who could be wearing more. When I would come home from HS class and it arrived in the mail, she would inform me that my "slut' magazine came today.Back in the 60's/70's everything was done in black and white and the film had to go through a lengthy process, compared with the point and shoot camera's of today: take the picture, put the SD card in your computer, photo shop if necessary, and hit the "print" button. I think I spent more time in the school's darkroom than the classrooms. I had several favorite photo's that I will relate later and also my last of three friends, Stephie Bednariak. He lived about a half a block from St. Joe's, above the family grocery store. He always smiled and made "shrines" of the Virgin Mary, putting the statue inside a decorated shoe box. The nuns had contests. He had a mental birth defect and 3 days after we moved to Pymatuning Lake, my mother came into the drive-in and said Aunt Margie just called and said Stevie died. Her next statement hurt me: "You don't want to go back for the funeral. do you?" In other words. she needed me more to work and didn't want to be inconvenienced. Yes, I did want to go back and say, "good-bye.' But I said nothing. Years later his older sister would see me and I know she wondered why I was not there at the service. A quick side note: Granddad smoked non filtered, Camel brand cigarettes, which I mentioned before. He kept his carton of them in a metal drawer beneath the kitchen sink. It was almost impossible to open that drawer without it's loud screech, waking the neighborhood. But on a warm, dark evening, when granddad and grandma were in the living room, I would sneak in by opening the back, kitchen, screen door. With all the will at my command, I would manage to get the drawer open and "borrow" a pack of 20 cigarettes. After accomplishing our sinful deed, we would run to the Tarentum stadium. Terry would stand at one end and I the other, beneath the metal seats it total darkness. WE WOULD THEN EACH SMOKE ten cigarettes each, one after the other, keeping far away from one another as not to have our clothes smell of smoke. It's a wonder we didn't die of nicotine poison right then. Next thing: chew a big wad of double-bubble chewing gum to freshen our breath. Then, when it was soft enough(the stuff was always hard as a brick, we would rub it all over our face to eliminate any last trace of sin. Across the street was Sam Curusso's Pizza Shop. Sam had a day job and sold pizza by the slice or by the pie in the evening's. His pizza sucked, but it did the job we wanted it to do Cost" 10 cents/ slice. We would both eat two slices and sprinkle hot peppers on top as an added assurance our folks could not tell what we just did. Burned like blazes, but it worked. Sam was also a great chess player and would always set up a game as we ate-we never won. Sad ending-he died in his thirties. Probably from drinking Allegheny River water. Coming soon: the Master's of making candy, especially at Easter-a closely guarded skill they brought from Europe. There is not a brand of candy made today that would equal it's texture, variety, and flavors.
PS-IT WAS NOT MY INTENTION TO OFFEND ANYONE WITH YESTERDAY'S ENTRY. JUST FEELING "DOWN' AT NOT BEING ABLE TO SEE, WRITE, AND WORK. the BIGGEST PROBLEM, ACCORDING TO TO NEURO OPTHOMOLOGIST TODAY, IS I CAN'T GET MY EYES TO CONVERGE(WORK IN HARMONY. He said I probably had it all my life, but now it is getting worse.I want some new "genes." And the seconded biggest problem was a flat tire coming home on I-74 in the Van. There goes $218.00 in a heartbeat. A good Samaritan gave me a ride home as I stood there in braces, holding a cane. She refused compensation and said, "just pass it on."-help someone I see who needs help.
But before leaving the "Valley," I had three friends that I would consider to be "close. Terry Huet and his family moved into their grandfather's old framed house while they built a country home on 10 acre's. I spent a couple overnight's in their new home; once in the summer and then to sled ride in the winter. I was absolutely amazed how many stars are visible minus city lights. Allen had a moth collection and they would turn a spotlight on out back at night to attract them. I just could not believe how BIG a lunar moth is-about a 6" wing span with the ends shaped like comma's. Mr. Huet was a big brass for his company and weighed at least 280 lbs., compared to his 90 lb. wife. When they (and we) moved, I never saw or spoke with Terry again.One quirk about the family: NO TV was allowed in the house or rock and roll music played. Classical music was turned on at 6 Am and played non stop till bed time. They moved out of state because his dad died in his 40's:( Our favorite activity was playing next door at the Thompson cement block company. We would rearrange the blocks to make forts and also stack them behind the Legion as steps so we could go on the roof. Why? to throw water balloons at the Bingo players as they left the building every Tuesday night. Then we would race to hide in our club house and no one thought to look inside because, after all, it was an old chicken coop. Naturally, the cement company did not appreciate us rearranging their stacks of cement blocks and would put them back-which made us mad cause we would have to redo everything again and again.
Second friend-Oddie(sic) Meyers. Never new his real first name. His dad was police chief and the second floor of his garage was a complete darkroom set up. His dad also died suddenly while in his prime and Oddie showed me how a darkroom works. His mom became a barber, setup in the basement-also in the basement, in a 3' steel tub was a 3', 3 leg alligator which belonged to his younger brother, who could easily be on Animal Planet. The tub was covered with a sheet and if you lifted it up, the 'gator would loudly hiss at you, with breath that could wilt a flower. It would always escape, nstinctively finding the river. Some one would always bring it back because it was the only 3 legged alligator in town. When he ordered a small monkey(ads were in all the comic books-19.95, mom had enough when it tore up the house Back then, there were no government programs to help single mom''s. After the money collected during the funeral, she had to find a way to feed her kids. Back to the darkroom. When I saw my first photographs coming to life, I was hooked, and photography was a way of life for me. In college, I always wore a faded camel color sports-like jacket, and my 35mm camera was ALWAYS HUNG OVER MY LEFT SHOULDER. I became the college photographer for public relations, the school newspaper and the yearbook. I was the highest paid student employee. The college provided everything, including the darkroom, and I was paid 1.00/picture, even if they only used 2 and I printed 50. My second year, at Christmas break, I went home with more than 400 dollars-which in 1966, was a lot of money. Of course it had other perks: I just showed my press pass and got into everything free-lectures, concerts, ball games And I did spend a lot of time beforehand learning my skill: I took a photography course from NYI-New York Institute of Photography, and my school gold and blue pin was always on my lapel. I built my own dark room at my parents house in the basement and subscribed to "Popular Photography" magazine since it had tons of ads of where to buy supplies. Mom never liked the mag because at times it had photo's of girls who could be wearing more. When I would come home from HS class and it arrived in the mail, she would inform me that my "slut' magazine came today.Back in the 60's/70's everything was done in black and white and the film had to go through a lengthy process, compared with the point and shoot camera's of today: take the picture, put the SD card in your computer, photo shop if necessary, and hit the "print" button. I think I spent more time in the school's darkroom than the classrooms. I had several favorite photo's that I will relate later and also my last of three friends, Stephie Bednariak. He lived about a half a block from St. Joe's, above the family grocery store. He always smiled and made "shrines" of the Virgin Mary, putting the statue inside a decorated shoe box. The nuns had contests. He had a mental birth defect and 3 days after we moved to Pymatuning Lake, my mother came into the drive-in and said Aunt Margie just called and said Stevie died. Her next statement hurt me: "You don't want to go back for the funeral. do you?" In other words. she needed me more to work and didn't want to be inconvenienced. Yes, I did want to go back and say, "good-bye.' But I said nothing. Years later his older sister would see me and I know she wondered why I was not there at the service. A quick side note: Granddad smoked non filtered, Camel brand cigarettes, which I mentioned before. He kept his carton of them in a metal drawer beneath the kitchen sink. It was almost impossible to open that drawer without it's loud screech, waking the neighborhood. But on a warm, dark evening, when granddad and grandma were in the living room, I would sneak in by opening the back, kitchen, screen door. With all the will at my command, I would manage to get the drawer open and "borrow" a pack of 20 cigarettes. After accomplishing our sinful deed, we would run to the Tarentum stadium. Terry would stand at one end and I the other, beneath the metal seats it total darkness. WE WOULD THEN EACH SMOKE ten cigarettes each, one after the other, keeping far away from one another as not to have our clothes smell of smoke. It's a wonder we didn't die of nicotine poison right then. Next thing: chew a big wad of double-bubble chewing gum to freshen our breath. Then, when it was soft enough(the stuff was always hard as a brick, we would rub it all over our face to eliminate any last trace of sin. Across the street was Sam Curusso's Pizza Shop. Sam had a day job and sold pizza by the slice or by the pie in the evening's. His pizza sucked, but it did the job we wanted it to do Cost" 10 cents/ slice. We would both eat two slices and sprinkle hot peppers on top as an added assurance our folks could not tell what we just did. Burned like blazes, but it worked. Sam was also a great chess player and would always set up a game as we ate-we never won. Sad ending-he died in his thirties. Probably from drinking Allegheny River water. Coming soon: the Master's of making candy, especially at Easter-a closely guarded skill they brought from Europe. There is not a brand of candy made today that would equal it's texture, variety, and flavors.
PS-IT WAS NOT MY INTENTION TO OFFEND ANYONE WITH YESTERDAY'S ENTRY. JUST FEELING "DOWN' AT NOT BEING ABLE TO SEE, WRITE, AND WORK. the BIGGEST PROBLEM, ACCORDING TO TO NEURO OPTHOMOLOGIST TODAY, IS I CAN'T GET MY EYES TO CONVERGE(WORK IN HARMONY. He said I probably had it all my life, but now it is getting worse.I want some new "genes." And the seconded biggest problem was a flat tire coming home on I-74 in the Van. There goes $218.00 in a heartbeat. A good Samaritan gave me a ride home as I stood there in braces, holding a cane. She refused compensation and said, "just pass it on."-help someone I see who needs help.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
TODAY
this is a departure from my normal memory trips that \\i hope will turn into some kind of family history. I always wanted to go back with a video camera and mike and record everything; that didn't happen and now it won't. I type with my right eye closed so I can see the keyboard and am grateful for spell check for sensing half of my mistakes,then I go back to find the one's I missed. I am glad Alex has agreed to correct anything I missed, which seems to be a lot
It is my desire that ALL my family read this: it is important to me and I hope of some value to you.
I think every man wants to leave his 'mark' on the world or a legacy as not to be forgotten in a few weeks or a year after he departs this mortal existence. I guess something where people would say, "let's erect a statute of him," so we always remember what he did for us. I know that will not happen. I have been thinking of my dad, and mom. So many billions of us do the few simple things before we "leave.: We are born; mate live, trying to raise our children on the go, since they don't come with an owner's manual. Then we die. Worse: then in a little while, we are forgotten, except, maybe when it is time to check the grave for weeds and put out some plastic flowers, throwing the faded ones away. Dad was a robust man who thought nothing of cutting down and stacking 3-4 cords of firewood. He had ONE joy in life: fishing for musky's. I think that is the real reason for moving to Pymatuning Lake-the largest in the state, shaped like Africa, with an ear in Ohio. When mom became helplessly sick, he became her caretaker: counting out her meds, taking her to the bathroom, fixing her meals and feeding her. Several years ago, he told me he was afraid to go outside and cut the grass: she might fall and get hurt while he was doing so. It was then that I realized that his fishing days were over, probably for at least 20 years or more. He spent 64 days without ever leaving a hospital bed. Rita, Tim's wife was his angel always making sure he was shaved and looking his best when they started radiation on his brain-which I knew that he would never again go home alive. He waited until everyone left the room before he departed. Just before, Rita kissed his cheek and said I love you Dad. He briefly opened his eyes and uttered his final words: "I want to die!" This from a man who always said he would live to be a 100.
As I look over my own life, I thought I would always do something great or big. At one time, during my college years I wanted to be a country music entertainer and would visualize myself on stage. I traded that for mom and you. Even now, I have been playing my 42 year old guitar in the bedroom, composing music. while in college, mom and others would sit around the living room of our apartment and listen and sometimes sing along; I loved to do it.today, the TV doesn't even get turned off, so quietly I strum and hum the words in my mind in the bedroom for as long as my fingers can take it. Thanks grandma valencic for genetic arthritis!
Church: Here is another place where I thought I could be considered worthy enough to be a Bishop or so, and use my organizational skills along with my speaking abilities and gift of discernment, to heal the ward, bring us ALL back into fellowship and then preach, not teach, this generation how critical it is to prepare our children and grandchildren to PREPARE. That the coming devastation's will not slowly creep up on us but be there all at once-and we have to be ready and to know our brothers and sisters well enough to work together with them as a team to save our neighborhood's. But I realize that my past sins, shortcoming's and sometimes the necessity to ask for church help put me out of the running. I guess I felt the Lord wasn't going to call on someone to manage a ward if he couldn't manage his own home. Just my believe. Then again, it is almost a miracle for me to last through all three meetings. Right now, I am bracing myself up to see Adam and Meredeth's new baby and wondering how I will get to Utah when Amanda's child is born. And although Kansas City is closer than Amarillo, it was a trip I just couldn't handle and I knew since Tom asked mom, in her stubbornness, she would do it alone, even if it did cost us $270.00 and she tends to fall asleep on long drives.. I wish my children would ask ME first instead of mom-so I could tell them what we are up against. I was thinking tonight if Christ knows what it is like to be old since He left this world in His prime. Sure, He died for our sins and pains, but does He really know what it feels like to be old and hurt 24/7? Or, since He is a God, He can imagine it. Right?
I guess when it is my time to leave, I want my grave marker to say more than: He was born; married and had children, then got weak and old and died.
Funny. We seem to see things differently at 63 than 33 or so-when we were invincible and could do anything.
If I had a magic lamp with just one wish, it would be that all of our children come to church. Just think of the simple logic: God is always the same. Has to be. Since He is, then all church's would teach exactly the same thing about Him and the Lord's church and pure gospel would be just like He set it up when he was on earth. Well, we know all church's teach all different things. Therefore, they can't be true. To paraphrase Isaiah, the great Old Testament prophet, he said it would get so bad in the last days(now) that the church would have to be restored, or in other words, start all over, fresh. Build and organize it just as Jesus Christ did. And that is where we come in: the Church with the keys of priesthood authority, were restored through the Prophet, Joseph Smith. Don't take my word for it but the challenge of the Book of Mormon(Moroni 10,3-4) Read the book-YOU. then you get on your knees and pray to God IN THE NAME OF HIS SON, JESUS CHRIST, IF IT IS TRUE OR NOT. And the truthfulness will be made know unto you. It's just that simple and you just need the courage to do it and not listen to anybody's opinions. Forgive me for speaking boldly and with plainness; no matter what your choices, we'll always love you. Just because.It's getting late. time for some more pills and a few hours of sleep. I see a neurophthalmologist in the morning so he can tell me why I am loosing my ability to see.I hope.
It is my desire that ALL my family read this: it is important to me and I hope of some value to you.
I think every man wants to leave his 'mark' on the world or a legacy as not to be forgotten in a few weeks or a year after he departs this mortal existence. I guess something where people would say, "let's erect a statute of him," so we always remember what he did for us. I know that will not happen. I have been thinking of my dad, and mom. So many billions of us do the few simple things before we "leave.: We are born; mate live, trying to raise our children on the go, since they don't come with an owner's manual. Then we die. Worse: then in a little while, we are forgotten, except, maybe when it is time to check the grave for weeds and put out some plastic flowers, throwing the faded ones away. Dad was a robust man who thought nothing of cutting down and stacking 3-4 cords of firewood. He had ONE joy in life: fishing for musky's. I think that is the real reason for moving to Pymatuning Lake-the largest in the state, shaped like Africa, with an ear in Ohio. When mom became helplessly sick, he became her caretaker: counting out her meds, taking her to the bathroom, fixing her meals and feeding her. Several years ago, he told me he was afraid to go outside and cut the grass: she might fall and get hurt while he was doing so. It was then that I realized that his fishing days were over, probably for at least 20 years or more. He spent 64 days without ever leaving a hospital bed. Rita, Tim's wife was his angel always making sure he was shaved and looking his best when they started radiation on his brain-which I knew that he would never again go home alive. He waited until everyone left the room before he departed. Just before, Rita kissed his cheek and said I love you Dad. He briefly opened his eyes and uttered his final words: "I want to die!" This from a man who always said he would live to be a 100.
As I look over my own life, I thought I would always do something great or big. At one time, during my college years I wanted to be a country music entertainer and would visualize myself on stage. I traded that for mom and you. Even now, I have been playing my 42 year old guitar in the bedroom, composing music. while in college, mom and others would sit around the living room of our apartment and listen and sometimes sing along; I loved to do it.today, the TV doesn't even get turned off, so quietly I strum and hum the words in my mind in the bedroom for as long as my fingers can take it. Thanks grandma valencic for genetic arthritis!
Church: Here is another place where I thought I could be considered worthy enough to be a Bishop or so, and use my organizational skills along with my speaking abilities and gift of discernment, to heal the ward, bring us ALL back into fellowship and then preach, not teach, this generation how critical it is to prepare our children and grandchildren to PREPARE. That the coming devastation's will not slowly creep up on us but be there all at once-and we have to be ready and to know our brothers and sisters well enough to work together with them as a team to save our neighborhood's. But I realize that my past sins, shortcoming's and sometimes the necessity to ask for church help put me out of the running. I guess I felt the Lord wasn't going to call on someone to manage a ward if he couldn't manage his own home. Just my believe. Then again, it is almost a miracle for me to last through all three meetings. Right now, I am bracing myself up to see Adam and Meredeth's new baby and wondering how I will get to Utah when Amanda's child is born. And although Kansas City is closer than Amarillo, it was a trip I just couldn't handle and I knew since Tom asked mom, in her stubbornness, she would do it alone, even if it did cost us $270.00 and she tends to fall asleep on long drives.. I wish my children would ask ME first instead of mom-so I could tell them what we are up against. I was thinking tonight if Christ knows what it is like to be old since He left this world in His prime. Sure, He died for our sins and pains, but does He really know what it feels like to be old and hurt 24/7? Or, since He is a God, He can imagine it. Right?
I guess when it is my time to leave, I want my grave marker to say more than: He was born; married and had children, then got weak and old and died.
Funny. We seem to see things differently at 63 than 33 or so-when we were invincible and could do anything.
If I had a magic lamp with just one wish, it would be that all of our children come to church. Just think of the simple logic: God is always the same. Has to be. Since He is, then all church's would teach exactly the same thing about Him and the Lord's church and pure gospel would be just like He set it up when he was on earth. Well, we know all church's teach all different things. Therefore, they can't be true. To paraphrase Isaiah, the great Old Testament prophet, he said it would get so bad in the last days(now) that the church would have to be restored, or in other words, start all over, fresh. Build and organize it just as Jesus Christ did. And that is where we come in: the Church with the keys of priesthood authority, were restored through the Prophet, Joseph Smith. Don't take my word for it but the challenge of the Book of Mormon(Moroni 10,3-4) Read the book-YOU. then you get on your knees and pray to God IN THE NAME OF HIS SON, JESUS CHRIST, IF IT IS TRUE OR NOT. And the truthfulness will be made know unto you. It's just that simple and you just need the courage to do it and not listen to anybody's opinions. Forgive me for speaking boldly and with plainness; no matter what your choices, we'll always love you. Just because.It's getting late. time for some more pills and a few hours of sleep. I see a neurophthalmologist in the morning so he can tell me why I am loosing my ability to see.I hope.
Monday, January 24, 2011
KENNYWOOD PARK
Kennywood is an amusement park located in West Mifflin, Pennsylvania, near Pittsburgh. The park first opened in 1898 as a "trolley park" at the end of the Monogahela Street Railway. The park was purchased in 1906 by F.W. Henninger and Andrew McSwigan and thus began the Kennywood Entertainment company that has remained a closely held family business for over 100 years. This traditional amusement park still has structures and rides dating back to its opening and the early 1900s. Along with Rye Playland Park, it is one of only two amusement parks listed in the National Register of Historic Places.
I tok this first part off the internet to show just how old kennywood is -PPG glass Co would hold a yearly company picnic there and supposedly our family went but I remember it not, just the trips by the school crossing guard kids and sometimes the boy scouts. Then as a dad, I took my own family there except Ariana, who wasn't with us yet. As a kid, all the roller coasters were made of wood framing and it was not till the 1990's that steel rail coasters appeared(now 3). They still have the original merry go round and Noah's Ark which perched up high with mechanical animal heads bobbing from windows. The ride sucked, but it still was a landmark, Another neat thing was the placement of the Ferris wheel: as you got to the top you could see a giant clock with the day and date above-made entirely out of flowers except the clock hands. The flowers were re dug everyday to change the date and day.
There was no easy way to get there from Brackenridge, but to go through a bunch of small towns and crossing 2 of Pittsburgh;s 3 rivers. But, all along the way through the small towns were yellow arrows with black "Kenneywood Park" written on them, pointing the way. Now, as you began crossing the Monongahela river, you first view is the steep incline and almost vertical descent of the park's first steely, the Phantom. First drop over 85mph! I have never been on a steely-I love the creaking noises of the wooden coasters. Besides, on a steely, you cannot see the tract either in front or on your sides. On one trip to the Park, a lady was so scared, when the Phantom ride ended they had to break her fingers to get them off the holding bar.
One ride looked almost like a Ferris wheel on it''s side. Everyone took their place inside the big circle ride. It had a loose leather belt going across your midriff, which really offered no safety. As it started going around, it went faster and gradually you were almost going around vertically. Centrifugal force was what held you in place. Right before one of the patrol boys got on, he had 2 hot dogs and a bottle of chocolate soda pop. I remember because he got sick on the ride and threw up. his big problem: centrifugal force made his vomit come right back to his face-until the ride lowered and went slower, it ran down the front of him. It was really gross, but still kind of funny.
Anyway, the entire park has a family slow life to it, making it a relaxing fun day.The worst moment: taking Alex with me on the Thunderbolt, a woody. I told him it wasn't that bad. well it was a lot faster and shakier than I remembered and Alex screamed at me from the first drop until the end. Don't blame him. At least it wasn't the Jackrabbit which has a double dip hill and you fly out of your seat about a foot. real good idea to use the seat belt. The park has a center lake and a scaled down train that goes completely around the park, along with picnic shelters-bring your own lunch because even an empty glass for water cost the same as if it was a drink of lemonade-cups are counted and employees are accountable for their numbers. Bottom line-i would never go to the Pittsburgh area and not visit Kennywood Park(during the season). Next: Pig Island in the middle of the Allegheny River, about 7 miles from downtown Pittsburgh and home of Irish Brand Hams and bacon. Along with Iron City Beer, Irish Brand is no more.
I tok this first part off the internet to show just how old kennywood is -PPG glass Co would hold a yearly company picnic there and supposedly our family went but I remember it not, just the trips by the school crossing guard kids and sometimes the boy scouts. Then as a dad, I took my own family there except Ariana, who wasn't with us yet. As a kid, all the roller coasters were made of wood framing and it was not till the 1990's that steel rail coasters appeared(now 3). They still have the original merry go round and Noah's Ark which perched up high with mechanical animal heads bobbing from windows. The ride sucked, but it still was a landmark, Another neat thing was the placement of the Ferris wheel: as you got to the top you could see a giant clock with the day and date above-made entirely out of flowers except the clock hands. The flowers were re dug everyday to change the date and day.
There was no easy way to get there from Brackenridge, but to go through a bunch of small towns and crossing 2 of Pittsburgh;s 3 rivers. But, all along the way through the small towns were yellow arrows with black "Kenneywood Park" written on them, pointing the way. Now, as you began crossing the Monongahela river, you first view is the steep incline and almost vertical descent of the park's first steely, the Phantom. First drop over 85mph! I have never been on a steely-I love the creaking noises of the wooden coasters. Besides, on a steely, you cannot see the tract either in front or on your sides. On one trip to the Park, a lady was so scared, when the Phantom ride ended they had to break her fingers to get them off the holding bar.
One ride looked almost like a Ferris wheel on it''s side. Everyone took their place inside the big circle ride. It had a loose leather belt going across your midriff, which really offered no safety. As it started going around, it went faster and gradually you were almost going around vertically. Centrifugal force was what held you in place. Right before one of the patrol boys got on, he had 2 hot dogs and a bottle of chocolate soda pop. I remember because he got sick on the ride and threw up. his big problem: centrifugal force made his vomit come right back to his face-until the ride lowered and went slower, it ran down the front of him. It was really gross, but still kind of funny.
Anyway, the entire park has a family slow life to it, making it a relaxing fun day.The worst moment: taking Alex with me on the Thunderbolt, a woody. I told him it wasn't that bad. well it was a lot faster and shakier than I remembered and Alex screamed at me from the first drop until the end. Don't blame him. At least it wasn't the Jackrabbit which has a double dip hill and you fly out of your seat about a foot. real good idea to use the seat belt. The park has a center lake and a scaled down train that goes completely around the park, along with picnic shelters-bring your own lunch because even an empty glass for water cost the same as if it was a drink of lemonade-cups are counted and employees are accountable for their numbers. Bottom line-i would never go to the Pittsburgh area and not visit Kennywood Park(during the season). Next: Pig Island in the middle of the Allegheny River, about 7 miles from downtown Pittsburgh and home of Irish Brand Hams and bacon. Along with Iron City Beer, Irish Brand is no more.
almost time
it's about time to leave the hills of Breckenridge and move on-but many things of our youth affect us for life.Grandma's house- to the right, the Messo's, Italian family moved in, just an ordinary blue collar gang, and of course, that big old house where I first lived up on the third floor and don't remember-except the cute 4 year old girl down below , who I had a crush on.
Mrs. Messso and a ladies group went to Kennywood park one day and they have a mechanical gypsy woman in a glass booth, who, for a quarter would spit out card with your fortune. Her card came out saying something bad would happen today. She had a son, about 14 and a greaser, who went swimming with bunch of his "tough" buddies above the dam. Johnny could not swim and when mom came home from Kennywood, she was informed he was dead-he drowned, She went nuts with grief and swore never use that gypsy lady again. They dragged for his body by throwing a long rope with tri-hooks and caught him by his swim trunks below the dam. A very sad experience. But the saddest was that the American Legion bought all the houses, destroyed them all and made more parking paces for the members- to go in and booze it up since private clubs were exempt from the State's alcohol serving times. Everything I cherished went-the homes, gardens and flower beds. Gotta make room for more drinkers, altho my dad and mom were members of the American Legion all of their lives, yet neither drank alcoholic drinks. The Legion was for fishing shows and to get ice in the ice chest when we went up north to fish.
Side Note" if your ever around Pittsburgh, two MUST VISIT places are Kennywood Park and the Carnegie-Melon Museum. They have the largest Real collection of dinosaur bones of any place. It will blow you away. And so will Kennywood, the wooden roller coaster capital of the world, spotlessly clean and at least 60 years old.More about Kennywood later.
Mrs. Messso and a ladies group went to Kennywood park one day and they have a mechanical gypsy woman in a glass booth, who, for a quarter would spit out card with your fortune. Her card came out saying something bad would happen today. She had a son, about 14 and a greaser, who went swimming with bunch of his "tough" buddies above the dam. Johnny could not swim and when mom came home from Kennywood, she was informed he was dead-he drowned, She went nuts with grief and swore never use that gypsy lady again. They dragged for his body by throwing a long rope with tri-hooks and caught him by his swim trunks below the dam. A very sad experience. But the saddest was that the American Legion bought all the houses, destroyed them all and made more parking paces for the members- to go in and booze it up since private clubs were exempt from the State's alcohol serving times. Everything I cherished went-the homes, gardens and flower beds. Gotta make room for more drinkers, altho my dad and mom were members of the American Legion all of their lives, yet neither drank alcoholic drinks. The Legion was for fishing shows and to get ice in the ice chest when we went up north to fish.
Side Note" if your ever around Pittsburgh, two MUST VISIT places are Kennywood Park and the Carnegie-Melon Museum. They have the largest Real collection of dinosaur bones of any place. It will blow you away. And so will Kennywood, the wooden roller coaster capital of the world, spotlessly clean and at least 60 years old.More about Kennywood later.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
the boat
I wish i could have this down in cronilogical order, but that is for someone else to do, if they wish. I gave Alex permission to correct grammer since i have to type with my right eye closed. I see a neoropthalmologist this week. I feel I am losing my vision
WHEN bILL AND i STARTRTED 7TH AND 8TH GRADE(darn caps key! dad said if we got good grades* he would give us our own row boat for the river; which he did and it not only opened up a new world, but made it easier to get to the other side of the river, instead of walking the 4 or more miles across the Tarentum bridge and down the cliffs. I think we also had use of a small outboard motor for the boat to speed things up and we would go all the way to Brauburn beach by the dam where the water was fresh enough to swim in. When we were younger, Uncle Lou would drive us down Brauburn Road and we would walk the tracks as he ran his hunting dog, "Voda," which means water in Slovak. Stupid mutt would tear butt after a rabbit up the hillside, throught the sulfer sreams and come out smelling worse that a Beagle usually smells. Besides, now being orange and black. And, of course Lou had his 22 pistol straped in his holster-snakes and snapping turtles. The only good thing a turle was useful was to make turtle soup because they ate tropthy fish eggs, like bass and musky's. We "disposed" of one snapper which was at least a 1' across. The top if their mouth was like a beak and they could bite your finger in two before knew it. Sometimes we carried my dad's old 16 gauge shot gun for the same reason or just for target practice. Lou didn't marry untill in his 30's so when we were yonger he kinda adopted us and bougth us things and took us places. Once he married, we were s.o.l since his attention went to where it rightly belonged-his wife
Did you ever put your finger under a upside down glass and lower it in sink water? comes out dry becuse the cup/glass forms an air pocket. well some of us got the bright idea that if we cut out the bottom of a 5 gal. metal can, cut out and glued on a swim face mask, we could lower it over our head and walk on the river bottom. a gargden hose, attached to a hand pump in the boat would maintain pressue, whie giving us "fresh" air to breath. We were not stupid: just inventive and crazy as could be. I never went under because I almost drowned when I was about 9 years old at crooked creek state park beach. It had crystal clear water until someone walked into the water-which had a layer of brown silt on the bottom. There was probaably499 people in the water at the same time-and another 1000 on the sandy beach.. One time, mom had on a full size white swimsuit-she walked into the water, turned around and walked out wih a brown swim suit. Bill and I would smim out to our necks and throw a foot long stick about ten feet further(over our head), grab it, and swim back to where we coud touch the river botom with our toes. Safe-I did not know how to swim. I threw out my stick, not realizing that as I padled out, the stick went futher out. Grabbbed it and swam back to safety. Wrong. Bill couldn't help me and my parents kinda "froze" on their beach blanket with tim, who was a baby at the time. I was screaming for help and i went under the third and I was sure, the last time. Out of nowher, a man grabbed me, tucked me under his arm and knew exactly where my parents blanket was at on the beach. I NEVER SAW HIS FACE AND HE JUST VANISHED IN THE THRONGS OF PEOPLE ON THE BEACH, NEVER SAYING A WORD.
I thought of this incident after joining the true church of Jesus Christ, and I swear it must have been one of the Three Nephites-or at least my Guardian Angel. To this very day, I am afraid to go in water over my head, unless I have the the security of some kind of personal floatation device. A pool is not so bad because the depths are marked. So don't laugh at me if we are swiming in a river or lake and egg me to go in over my head. I won't. *"A's" were next to impossible to get from one of the mean old nuns, most of who died when they reached the age of 100, but refused to fall down, so they just kept teaching and beating us when approapriate-which to them. was all the time, but i found all twelve of my mother 's report cards(She also went to St.Joseph and raising her sister and taking care of the house when her mother died when she was Ten. Her lowest grade was an "A" and I say lowest because most were "A+" Oh well, she could just out run them, right?
FYI: the "Bear" who was principal was actualy Sister Mary Dennis. There goes that "Mary" thing again. She had to be 6'3" and weigh atleast 425 lbs-and a 150 lbs of that was just her chest-which her starched white bib convenietly covered. And a 100lbs for each bicep. She probably lifted weights and worked out by hitting a stuffed dummy swinging from a rope, with a steel pipe! Think I am aggerating?Just ask my brother Bill. She could have won the Viet Nam War all by herself: when the Viet Cong saw her a coming, they would run like hell into China to hide. And surrender.
WHEN bILL AND i STARTRTED 7TH AND 8TH GRADE(darn caps key! dad said if we got good grades* he would give us our own row boat for the river; which he did and it not only opened up a new world, but made it easier to get to the other side of the river, instead of walking the 4 or more miles across the Tarentum bridge and down the cliffs. I think we also had use of a small outboard motor for the boat to speed things up and we would go all the way to Brauburn beach by the dam where the water was fresh enough to swim in. When we were younger, Uncle Lou would drive us down Brauburn Road and we would walk the tracks as he ran his hunting dog, "Voda," which means water in Slovak. Stupid mutt would tear butt after a rabbit up the hillside, throught the sulfer sreams and come out smelling worse that a Beagle usually smells. Besides, now being orange and black. And, of course Lou had his 22 pistol straped in his holster-snakes and snapping turtles. The only good thing a turle was useful was to make turtle soup because they ate tropthy fish eggs, like bass and musky's. We "disposed" of one snapper which was at least a 1' across. The top if their mouth was like a beak and they could bite your finger in two before knew it. Sometimes we carried my dad's old 16 gauge shot gun for the same reason or just for target practice. Lou didn't marry untill in his 30's so when we were yonger he kinda adopted us and bougth us things and took us places. Once he married, we were s.o.l since his attention went to where it rightly belonged-his wife
Did you ever put your finger under a upside down glass and lower it in sink water? comes out dry becuse the cup/glass forms an air pocket. well some of us got the bright idea that if we cut out the bottom of a 5 gal. metal can, cut out and glued on a swim face mask, we could lower it over our head and walk on the river bottom. a gargden hose, attached to a hand pump in the boat would maintain pressue, whie giving us "fresh" air to breath. We were not stupid: just inventive and crazy as could be. I never went under because I almost drowned when I was about 9 years old at crooked creek state park beach. It had crystal clear water until someone walked into the water-which had a layer of brown silt on the bottom. There was probaably499 people in the water at the same time-and another 1000 on the sandy beach.. One time, mom had on a full size white swimsuit-she walked into the water, turned around and walked out wih a brown swim suit. Bill and I would smim out to our necks and throw a foot long stick about ten feet further(over our head), grab it, and swim back to where we coud touch the river botom with our toes. Safe-I did not know how to swim. I threw out my stick, not realizing that as I padled out, the stick went futher out. Grabbbed it and swam back to safety. Wrong. Bill couldn't help me and my parents kinda "froze" on their beach blanket with tim, who was a baby at the time. I was screaming for help and i went under the third and I was sure, the last time. Out of nowher, a man grabbed me, tucked me under his arm and knew exactly where my parents blanket was at on the beach. I NEVER SAW HIS FACE AND HE JUST VANISHED IN THE THRONGS OF PEOPLE ON THE BEACH, NEVER SAYING A WORD.
I thought of this incident after joining the true church of Jesus Christ, and I swear it must have been one of the Three Nephites-or at least my Guardian Angel. To this very day, I am afraid to go in water over my head, unless I have the the security of some kind of personal floatation device. A pool is not so bad because the depths are marked. So don't laugh at me if we are swiming in a river or lake and egg me to go in over my head. I won't. *"A's" were next to impossible to get from one of the mean old nuns, most of who died when they reached the age of 100, but refused to fall down, so they just kept teaching and beating us when approapriate-which to them. was all the time, but i found all twelve of my mother 's report cards(She also went to St.Joseph and raising her sister and taking care of the house when her mother died when she was Ten. Her lowest grade was an "A" and I say lowest because most were "A+" Oh well, she could just out run them, right?
FYI: the "Bear" who was principal was actualy Sister Mary Dennis. There goes that "Mary" thing again. She had to be 6'3" and weigh atleast 425 lbs-and a 150 lbs of that was just her chest-which her starched white bib convenietly covered. And a 100lbs for each bicep. She probably lifted weights and worked out by hitting a stuffed dummy swinging from a rope, with a steel pipe! Think I am aggerating?Just ask my brother Bill. She could have won the Viet Nam War all by herself: when the Viet Cong saw her a coming, they would run like hell into China to hide. And surrender.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)