This post is a little difficult to write. It’s difficult because writing on this topic forces me to admit that my beloved Slatington childhood wasn’t as idyllic as I sometimes report. It also exposes some personal flaws, borne of ignorance or cowardice. But, I think it is important so, let’s dive in. And don’t worry, I promise this will not turn political, though it easily could.

My little town of 4500 people, in the fifties and sixties, was as white as Norway in winter. As white as a polar bear in a snowstorm. As white as mayo on Wonder Bread. It was white. But that doesn’t mean the influence of race didn’t show up from time to time. Unfortunately, it would show up usually in a negative form. I’ve been thinking about incidents and practices from my early years. Embarassingly, here are a few:

My high school had Slave Day. Luckily it ended right before my freshman year. On that day, a senior could choose a freshman to do whatever they wanted them to do. That could include carrying books, doing homework, and washing cars. I’m not sure why it ended when it did. I find it difficult to believe that Principal Kemp all of a sudden became “woke”. Can you imagine a local high school today having Slave Day?

You know that childhood rhyme, Eeny, Meeny, Miney Mo…..? Let’s just say that there was no Tiger in our version, though there was an N word. I said it. We all did. It’s embarrassing to write that now. I apologize that my white privilege allowed it.

Every summer our police department ran a bus trip for town kids to go see the Phillies play at Connie Mack Stadium. A highlight of the trip was throwing pennies out the bus window to the black kids in the non-upscale streets of Philly. I am happy to report that I did not participate. Apparently, that one was too much for me. You know who didn’t say this is too much? Yep, the adults.

I can remember in high school I attended a concert / dance at Smith Hall. It wasn’t a school function so outside people could be invited. A girl a year or two older than us, but still in high school, invited her black boyfriend. The place was abuzz with the scandal. Oh, the horror!

Finally here is one where had I been more courageous, I could have taken a stand. But I didn’t. I wrestled in high school. We had a meet with Stroudsburg High School. I ran out onto the mat to meet my opponent for the pre-match handshake. The kid was black, the first black any of us had had to wrestle that year. While I was shaking his hand, someone yelled out “Denny, be careful. It might rub off on you”. No one said anything after the meet. Not even the coaches. Certainly not me. A missed opportunity!

So, that’s it. My lily white childhood. All of those things are with me today. I think of them often these days of racial turmoil. In hindsight they taught me valuable lessons. One powerful lesson is that people can change. I have.

No. Not the Weezer song. I’ve been thinking about islands lately. Maybe, and most likely, it’s because I am reading a book “Finding Moosewood”. It’s written by the newsman Jack Perkins, who chucked it all mid-fame to build a home on an island off the coast of Maine where he and his wife lived until he died. Maybe it’s because of the chaos of the world today and particularly in our nation. Maybe it’s because the older I get the less I seem to like people and just want to be alone. Maybe it’s all of the above.

So I have never lived on an island. But I’ve visited some, and loved every one. Tangier Island, especially. It’s a little island, of five hundred people, in the middle of Chesapeake Bay. Because of climate change it will be gone in just twenty five years. Go see it before it’s too late! Washington Island, off the coast of Dorr County, Wisconsin, in Lake Michigan! Martha’s Vineyard. Such a beautiful place. Cabbage Key off the coast of Florida, which is the reason Jimmy Buffet wrote Cheeseburger in Paradise.

Closer to home is the island of play of my childhood, Around the World Island in the middle of Trout Creek. Every summer, when I was a child, we spent a week at Lake Wallenpaupack. There was an island off shore, without a name, that made its way into family lore. It’s the island that my brother Gary paddled to, and slept on, after a fight with his wife, Nancy. I am happy to report, that over fifty years later, they are still a happy couple! There is a little island in Leaser Lake that is so fun to kayak around with an occasional deer sighting. Islands! Love them! I’ve lived in about thirty homes in my life. Maybe the last one will be on an island? Wishful thinking!

I’ll leave you with these lines from the coast of Maine:

You don’t know why and you can’t say how

Such a change upon you came,

But once you have slept on an island

You’ll never be quite the same.

Enjoy the beautiful weekend!

In 1952, the year I was born, a new car cost on average $1510. Is that all it cost? Yes! How do I know this? For my birthday, my daughter bought me a book called “Dad, I Want to Hear Your Story”. She knows I love nostalgia and that I would love completing a book like this. She was right! She added that it would be good to finish it because then she and her brother could look at it when I’m…dead! Oh, okay, I’ll get right on it!

The first section is all about my remembrance of biological items like family tree stuff. Then it gets into what my favorites were in pop culture at the time. Leave It to Beaver makes its first appearance! It asks about my teenage years and girlfriends of the time. Maybe I can get some of my high school classmates to edit this section! Up to this point in the book, I could answer all of the questions from memory.

Now I am googling 1952 to find facts about pop culture, politics, and the costs of products. At first I found it amazing how little I knew about 1952. Then I cut myself some slack by remembering that when 1952 ended I was only seven months old. How many infants today can tell you who won the Oscar!?

A loaf of bread cost $.12. A gallon of milk was $.83. A cup of coffee was $.15. A gallon of gas was $.18. I can remember in high school, gas being 29 cents a gallon. I would drive up to the pumps and order a dollar’s worth! Good times! I’m sure I will get to the part of the book when it talks about wages and salaries and all of these prices will make much more sense. I can remember working for Pfizer in 1974. At that time if you made $10,000 a year you were living the dream.

I don’t think I’ve ever heard of the top song of 1952, Blue Tango by Leroy Anderson. Spotify, here I come. An American in Paris won the Best Picture Oscar. Humphrey Bogart and Vivian Leigh were top actors. Harry Truman was president and, wow, does writing that make me feel old!?

I’m only a third into the book so I am sure there will be lots more fodder for future posts. The times you grew up in are so important to who you are as an adult. I think my youth in the 50s and 60s was the best possible time to grow up. But I am sure whatever your age now, you feel the same about your youth. If you are in your youth now, treasure this time. It goes by way too fast.

I will leave you with one more statistic. the average price of a newly built house in 1952 was……wait for it….. $7750! Yes, that’s all it cost.

I read a survey result today that surprised me. It stated that only one third of adults live in the same area in which they grew up. Two out of every three adults moved away from their hometown areas. In addition, 50% of adults have lived in two to four different states! I feel like a slacker, a homebody, and an unadventurous dullard.

I write this morning as my oldest and dearest friend, Christy Haydt, is preparing to move permanently from Walnutport to Clearwater, Florida. He will move into the group of the survey that I sometimes envy, the people that have left their childhood homes.

I’ve been lucky that I have, through a job, gotten to see most areas of our great country. I’ve seen many places that I would love to live. I loved the pace and the food and the kindness of America’s South. Baton Rouge was amazing. I loved the landscapes and the environmental caring and, yes, even the rain of the Pacific Northwest. The Columbia River Gorge is something I will never forget. I loved New England’s woods and rocky coasts. Bar Harbor, yes please! I could easily fit into the groove of Northern California. To see snow topped Mount Shasta every morning would be wonderful. My absolute favorite region is the Northern Great Lakes. Duluth is a fabulous city, sitting terraced above Lake Superior. Yet, here I sit in Schnecksville, PA looking out over a field that will soon be yet another warehouse.

I think there are two reasons I never moved from the Lehigh Valley. The two Fs. Family and Fear. Let me explain.

I love my family. My siblings live here. Even though I do not see them as often as I could, it would be difficult to be a thousand miles away. My kids are here! I love watching them grow. My grandchildren are here. I can’t imagine hearing about their milestones from a distance.

Fear. So why am I afraid to move away? I don’t mind being alone, so that’s not it. I’m not afraid of not being able to fit in. I love to explore any area I am in. I am afraid of getting sick and losing my freedom. What if I get cancer and need rides to get chemo? Who will give me a ride home from that dreaded colonoscopy? It comes down to that.

So, you are stuck with me here in the Lehigh Valley. And, I know, it is more than just warehouses. It has a lot to offer. I’ll continue to explore every facet of our area and when I get home I will watch videos of the Great Lakes and the Columbia River Gorge! And dream.

I’m not sure whose quote that is but I first heard it when I was starting to learn more about Buddhism.  It’s about how everything is constantly changing and even I am not the person I was five minutes ago.  Something happened to me within the last five minutes that changed me, even if it is something small. For example, I was watching the Dick Van Dyke show this morning and realized what an amazing physical comic he is. That knowledge is now a part of me that wasn’t there ten minutes ago.  Sometimes what changes is something big. I am a different person since the death of my daughter.  I am a different river.

Enough philosophy!  I’ve been spending more time on the Slate Heritage Trail, a rail to trail in my home town of Slatington. Part of the trail goes by a section of Trout Creek where I spent my childhood.  I noticed a big change. There is an island in the stream called Around the World Island. When I was a kid, from the bank on the railroad side, you could easily step over a small flow of water onto the island. The main flow went around the other side of the island.  On that side of the island I did a lot of fishing and often crossed a hand bridge installed by the boy scouts.  Guess what! That’s completely changed around. The main flow is right along the trail and the really small flow goes around the back of the island.

That got me thinking about life. Of course it did!  We may be headed in one direction but things happen in our lives that send us in a completely different direction. Sometimes those changes happen over time. Sometimes those changes occur in an instant.  Sometimes we have control over the changes. Sometimes they just happen. We are all like rivers and streams. We keep moving toward our destination and absorb all of the changes that happen on our journey. The cool thing is…we usually get to choose what happens to us after a change.  We have control over how we react to change!

Enjoy your journey!  It’s bound to be wet and wild!

 

Friday is my birthday. 68 trips around the sun! Yay me!  I’m not sure that I’ve done anything special to make it to 68. I’ve never smoked. Maybe that’s it.  I’m of the reflective sort. I’ve been doing some life reflection as 68 approaches.

About my past. I’ve had a great life so far. I grew up in a small town, Slatington,  that left me with wonderful memories.  It gave me the idea of what a good childhood can be.  I am partly who I am because of my home town.  I grew up in a wonderful time. My high school years were the Sixties, a time of change and optimism.  I think that is why I love change and tend to be an optimist!  I always liked school, the social part and the learning part. I’ve had wonderful opportunities in my educational career. Slatington High School Class of 1970. 121 classmates. I loved it all and still chat with many of them. Our 50th reunion is in October. Unbelievable!  I graduated from Muhlenberg College ( BA) and Chestnut Hill College (MS). Thank you Pfizer. Tuition reimbursement is a wonderful thing. The only class I had to pay for is Accounting 2. They didn’t pay for a D! I’ve had an exciting career filled with many jobs of all kinds.  I’m not going to list all the jobs I’ve had. It would be too long. I’ve liked most of my jobs. I’ve loved a few. One I hated was concrete construction. I lasted one day! I feel blessed that in one job I got to travel all over this country and all over the world. Seeing  all these different places and talking with everyday citizens across the globe, made me much more accepting of the differences in people. Last, but not least, I’ve had the opportunity to help raise three wonderful children. Amy, Andy, and Emma. I’ve tried to teach what I’ve learned about life to all of them.  If Emma hears me say “everything has a lifespan” one more time, she may revolt!

My past, in spite of everything written above, was not perfect. I lost my mom when I was 15 and my dad when I was 31. I lost my daughter, Amy, when she was 17.  I’ve survived two cancers.  But on balance, a pretty great life.

About my present. I’m relatively healthy. I still hike nearly daily. I haven’t run in a while but I may start up again.  I work two days a week. I like what I do for a living. I read a lot! I live alone. It has its ups and downs. I like not having to compromise! I have good relationships with my children and my siblings and even my ex-wives.  I don’t have much to complain about. Well, I really need a haircut!

About my future. Like I tell my older clients, you have to keep your body moving and your mind working! I expect my future to be good, and hopefully long. Like Rod Stewart sang, Forever Young. Like Fleetwood Mac sang, Don’t Stop Thinking About Tomorrow. Like the Beatles sang, Tomorrow Never Knows.  I have stacks of books to read. I have many miles to hike. I have so many things to learn, and experience.  Who knows, even love may be in my future. Be still my heart! All in all, it’s all good.

Thanks for indulging my introspection.  I promise I won’t do that again until about this time next year! One last thing, May babies are still the best.

 

No, this is not an advertisement for Sleep Number beds. I’ve never been in a Sleep Number bed. I doubt that I ever will  because I hear they are rather pricey! But I agree with their philosophy that we each have all kinds of numbers that are special to us. Numbers rule our lives! Well, insurance companies rule our lives, but that is another blog post!

We each have the number of hours of sleep each night that make us feel our best.  Mine is nine and I haven’t achieved that in over a decade.  What is your ideal hours of sleep? We each have an ideal weight as well.  Mine is 175. I’m at 198 right now. Thank you lockdown!

Would you bend down on a rainy day to pick up a penny off the sidewalk? Not likely. But what if it is a hundred dollar bill? More likely! Each of us, most likely, has an amount for which we would make that sacrifice.

When you look for a new job, you go into that search with a number in mind. Yes, if they pay me $100,000 I will accept an offer.

I’m a counselor and do a lot of couples counseling. Often, a big issue is the amount of intimacy. Each partner has an ideal number of nights they would like to be intimate with their partner.  The closer the numbers, the happier the couple…at least in that area of their relationship. If my client couples’ numbers are 7 and 0, I have a lot of work to do!

Financial advisers tell each of us that we need to have a certain amount set aside for our retirement. Getting that information, and examining our lifestyle, leaves us with a certain dollar amount in our mind that will make us feel comfortable about our closing years.  We use that number to guide us in our savings decisions.

One more! When I trained for a marathon in 2001, the training was run by numbers. I trained with the Leukemia Society’s Team in Training. We ran together every other weekend. Our first run was 6 miles. We added two miles every time we met.  The goal, in training, was to eventually get to the number 20.  The idea was that if you can run 20 miles, you can run 26.  Not so fast (pun intended)! I think my personal training number should have been 26, because boy did I struggle that last six miles!

There is usually something that happens in my week that triggers my blogpost idea. This week it was a conversation with a teenage client about his feeling about the lockdown and when is should end.  He was for opening up now, because only 111 people in Lehigh County have died from Covid-19.  I didn’t argue with him. That wasn’t my role. Also, I am not arguing with my readers in this non-political blog.  But it got me thinking about numbers. We must each have, somewhere in our mind, a number of deaths that affect the way we think about this whole thing.  I know there is more to our opinion than just that.  But numbers rule our lives and our actions.

I did that whole post about numbers without mentioning Calculus or Trigonometry.  You know the number of times, in my life, I have used what I learned in my high school Trigonometry class? 00000000000000000000

The other night I watched a documentary on Netflix called Hillbilly. It was very interesting and focused on the poor and middle class of Appalachia. The gist of the show was that it is only a stereotype that “hillbillies” are all lazy, dirty, and worthless.  This got me thinking of the stereotype of my hometown of Slatington as being the hillbilly capital  of the Lehigh Valley.   This is not going to be a defense of my hometown (well, maybe just a little in the last paragraph), but an argument that there may actually be a little hillbilly in me and my fellow Slatingtonians.

That hillbilly tendency may have started in elementary school gym class.  We had a gym teacher named Abby Kane, who was old, wiry, and tough as nails.  We didn’t have elementary school gyms back in the day. Gym class was held in an ordinary classroom with the desks removed.  So basketball and kickball were out.  Gymnastics were out. Baseball was out. Do you know what was in? Square Dancing!  Yes, we learned to do-si-do better than a West Virginian! Looking back at it, it  was kind of  of surreal. We promenaded and allemanded all over the room.  The best part for the boys was at some point in the dance there was always a change partners. You crossed your fingers that you ended up with the cutest girl in class.  We square danced a lot. I wondered, and still wonder, if square dancing was the elementary school curriculum throughout the country or just in Slatington…because, you know, it’s Slatington.

I have defended my hometown all of my life. Here I go again. My little town of 4000 has produced classical musicians that have played in prominent symphony orchestras. Renee Orkin was a successful actress who appeared often on Broadway.  A Slatington attorney became a state representative.  We had, of course, many successful businessmen who turned Slatington into the Blackboard Capital of the World. There is a bridge in Slatington named after a local boy who  attained the rank of general. General Thomas Morgan. There have been many patents secured by Slatington residents, including one that was the forerunner of the mailbag carried by postmen today!

Hillbilly? I don’t think so. But we can do a mean square dance and that is important  too!  Thank you, Abby Kane! Who knows when those dancing skills may come in handy?

 

 

 

 

I know it’s just not me that does this. It can’t be. No, I’m not talking about getting slices of bread from the middle of the loaf to get the freshest bread for your sandwich. I’m not talking about a little resume inflation when you apply for a new job.  I’m not talking about picking up your speed when you think you have successfully passed the state trooper parked on the side of the road.

So what am I talking about?  Being a voyeur, a peeping Tom, a stalker of sorts!  I’m talking about the opportunity, thanks to this pandemic, of being able to see inside peoples’ homes. Of course I am not talking about criminal behavior! Just the fact that so many things are now happening online.  People, myself included, are inviting people, virtually, into their homes.

When I see a newsperson on TV, broadcasting from home and usually in front of a bookcase, I try very hard to see the type of books they are reading. Okay, maybe that is just me. But who didn’t watch any part of the NFL draft and marvel about the fabulous homes of the NFL coaches and general managers?  The NFL draft also broadcast from the homes of  the athletes being drafted. It was interesting to see the wide range of socioeconomic classes represented.  I saw a wall print of Marilyn Monroe, in the home of an LSU linebacker, that matched one in my bedroom. How cool is that!? Isn’t she gorgeous?  But, I digress!

Who didn’t watch the One World  At Home concert and think about the decorative choices made by rock stars and celebrities? Paul McCartney’s kitchen looked very ordinary. But how should a kitchen look? Certainly not like Jim Gaffigan’s chandelier filled kitchen. But, to each his own.  Some of the decor was the exact opposite of what you may have expected. Think Keith Richards.

On a personal level, I open up my home to my clients as I do my sessions from my dining room.  I broadcast in front of a wall print of the Eiffel Tower. I have gotten some nice comments on my choice of art. Had I sat in a different seat at my table, they would have seen a bright yellow tin sun or a map Of Slatington!  I’ve enjoyed seeing the homes of my clients and how they choose to present themselves. I honor the fact that they are willing to share their lives with me, both decoratively and emotionally.

Students are getting to see their teachers’ homes. I imagine this can sometimes be eye opening!

It’s a new world we are in right now. I think some of the online stuff will remain. I think I have a business idea!  Home Broadcasting Staging! I will come to your house and help you select the best place in your home to present yourself! On second thought, maybe it should be an interior decorator who does this and not me. After all, I am the kind of person who goes to the middle of the loaf to get the freshest bread for my sandwich!

 

I’m stealing lyrics again! This time it’s from The Beatles’ “Hey Jude”.  What a great line. It could easily be anyone’s mantra.  Everyone of us has our sad times in life. The difference between us, though, is what we do with those sad times.  I’ve always, in my life, tried to take Paul McCartney’s advice to make them better.

As I wrote a few posts ago, this pandemic was turning into a sad time for me.  It was making me pessimistic and a little cranky. I think I’ve turned a corner though. I’ve been trying to figure out why the change to the positive, when we still have a long way to go with social distancing and staying at home.

One thing for sure is last night’s One World: Together at Home special on TV.  It was great hearing all the performances from the artists’ own homes.  I think my favorite was Elton John banging out “I’m Still Standing” from his patio.  It was fun to see Charlie Puth singing from his parents’ bedroom. They hadn’t even made the bed! Paul McCartney performing Lady Madonna from his kitchen.  So, there were the individual performances, but just the collection of creativity, history, hope, and joy was wonderful. They were taking a sad song, and making it better.

You know what else is helping me turn the corner? Flowers! Tree Blossoms! The greening of the woods!  We are eleven days from May, the best month of the year! Yes, my birthday is in May and everyone knows that May babies are the best.  All of my children would disagree. But just looking outside and seeing that drab brown turn into a kaleidoscope of yellows, pinks, purples, blues, and reds on a background of green is exciting.

My creative juices have been activated because I have been reading a lot more. I am on a streak of four great books in a row. That almost never happens. I highly recommend “My Dark Vanessa”.  I read a memoir called “Into the Wilderness” written about a girl’s childhood in Idaho. That’s now my muse to write my own memoir. I’ve started, but as I’ve written before, my follow through can use some work.  I guess if I keep going with this, it will be a testament to newfound optimism.  We’ll see. The general theme of my memoir will be taking a sad song and making it better. Thank you, Paul.

Sometimes it is just the basics, that can turn a frown around. I am fully stocked with toilet paper, finding a six role pack at Weis.  Yes, the little things in life.  And, really, it is the little things in life that are important. Little things like love, kindness, humanity, and sharing. Well, maybe they aren’t so little!?

That’s how things are going with me, stuck here in Schnecksville. I’d love to hear your “surviving the pandemic” stories. Leave a comment. Send me an email. Just don’t knock on my door!