Music has always been a part of my life and,  I’m sure, it has been a part of yours as well. In my youth and early adulthood I tried to be a musician but was never terribly successful.

Flutophones!  I think they are called something else now, but that was what we called them in fourth grade. We all had to learn how to play. We worked all year and had a public concert toward the end of the school year.  We played songs like Country Gardens and Arkansas Traveler.  Why do I remember that?

Cornet! That was sixth grade, I think. Never a big fan of practicing, I had lessons with Mr. Scarselletti ,weekly, all leading up to playing to my sixth grade class. I don’t remember the song I learned, but I know there was one high note I could not reach in lessons nor practice. The, day of my recital in class I hit that note! I decided to end my cornet career on that high note and never picked it up again.

Also sixth grade, Beatles Year, I got a guitar for Christmas. Again, not a big fan of practicing, I eventually admitted that I am never going to be able to do this. I gave up.

So, not being a musician made me much more appreciative of those that are. Junior High assemblies were a hotbed of new music inspired by the music revolution of the sixties.  Here are some high school musical acts that played to us in junior high. The Madras Plaids! Aunt Melba’s Junk Band! Dave and Ter!  Interestingly, Terry Roth was a member of the last two and went on to a very successful music career. You may have heard him as the lead singer of Zen for Primates.

I feel very lucky that my junior high and high school years coincided with the British Invasion!

Maybe I haven’t totally given up my desire to become a musician. I bought myself a ukulele for Christmas! Now, time to practice.

 

Emily Dickinson wrote “Hope is the thing with feathers-that perches in the soul-And sings the tune without words-And never stops- at all.”

Yeah. I don’t know what the heck that means either! But it is a popular quote. You know what else is popular? New Year’s resolutions.

At the end of my last client session of 2018, my client asked me if I was making any resolutions. I thought for a few seconds and replied that no I am not. I am not, because when you are content, you don’t want a whole lot to change.

So no resolutions. But there are things I would like to see in the new year. I would like us all to become a little kinder and realize that all of us, no matter where we live, what color our skin is, which god we believe in, who we choose to love, are all just trying to find some peace, happiness, safety, empathy, and love.

I would like to see continuing great strides in medical science, but also have everyone be able to avail themselves of those great strides.

I would like Emma to pass her driver’s test, in May, so I can get her to run errands and I can stay home and read!

Speaking of reading, I hope that Fredrick Backman publishes another novel as good as A Man Called Ove, Beartown, or Us Against You.

I hope that when losses occur this year (they will, they always do) that we can focus on the positives of that person’s life and what they meant to us. Then I hope we take those positives and send them out into the world to find new lives of their own.

I hope that I can continue to explore the outdoor world.  I hope you will join me out there! Our planet is such a beautiful place! Kids! Please put the video games away sometimes and go out and see lakes and mountains and rivers and rainbows and meteor showers and eclipses and sunrises and sunsets. The X box will be there when you get back.

I often tell my clients that unknowns are the greatest cause of anxiety. That’s true, but only if you allow it. 2019 is a total unknown. My anxiety level looking at the new year is minimal. I will turn 67 this year, and I read the obituaries. So there is always that thought, deep in the back of my mind, is this the year I will die. I have little control over that, so I instead choose to live. To live and to enjoy every day and to spread love, and kindness, and good book recommendations!

I close this blogpost wishing all of my readers an amazing 2019, filled with quiet moments, good adventures, great meals. I hope, at least once, you laugh so hard that milk comes out your nose. I would have said pee your pants, but that would be embarrassing!

 

My New Years memories are coming at the end. But first, a goodbye to an eventful 2018. I semi-retired back in May. Emma had her first job ever at Dorney Park this summer. In November, she got her learner’s permit! The year has been eventful and exciting. We had a wonderful OCNJ vacation with my son and his family. My grandson was honored with a Student of the Month award. My granddaughter got her first real job with good benefits at Amazon.  I discovered a wonderful place in the Lehigh Gap Nature Center, where I volunteer. I started this blog in 2018. It’s been fun. I’ve hiked for miles upon miles and paddled my kayak on Leaser Lake and Lake Nockamixon.  I celebrated 10 years of being cancer free in July. Life is good!

I expanded my music listening this year and found a great song, In The Aeroplane Over The Sea by Neutral Milk Hotel.  You should check it out!  I read five 5 star books this year! If I could give 6 stars, it would be to Us Against You, by Fredrick Backman. I have seen a lot of movies and some good series too. My absolute favorite series has been The Handmaid’s Tale on Hulu. Praise be!

Loss has been a part of my year as well. My last living uncle, Vincent Burke, died this year. I lost an idol upon the suicide of Anthony Bourdain. His lesson is his legacy. That lesson is that no matter where in the world we live, we want the same things. Happiness, safety for our children, and good food.   The creator of SpongeBob SquarePants, Stephen Hillenberg, died this year. He will live on in my response to disappointment, “Barnacles!”.  Mr. Crabs was my favorite character on the show. “Queen Neptune’s Mother’s Stockings” Haha.

I probably missed some important things in that 2018 synopsis, but I want to leave room for a few memories. When I was a child we always spent New Year’s Eve at the house of my Uncle Jim Becker and his wife Noreen. At midnight, led by my Aunt Ebby (Evelyn Edwards), we always went outside and banged pots and pans together.  Fun! The next day would be spent at the home of Uncle Vincent Burke and his wife Lorna.  They were the first in our family to have a color TV. Can you imagine watching the Rose Bowl Parade in black and white? Yes, times were rough back then.

As I got older, New Years Day celebration would change to my brother Gary’s, and his wife Nancy’s, house.  That was the site of the annual George Family touch football game. We played in the rain, in the snow, and in single digit temperatures. Then, one year,  we all got to old to play!  Well, the rest of them did!

Later today, Emma and I will be participating in our annual New Years Eve Day hike on the Appalachian Trail. Eight miles, with the Allentown Hiking Club. Be at the top of Blue Mountain on Route 309 by 10:45 if you’d like to join us!

I hope you all have a wonderful New Year’s Eve! Stay safe out there on Amateur’s’ Night. I will most likely be sleeping at midnight, so please go a little easy on the fireworks, and on the pots and pans.

 

 

Let’s get the bitter out of the way. My mom died on Christmas Day when I was in 10th grade. She had been in a coma for about a week.  My dad and I spent Christmas Day with my sister and her family in Lehighton.  We left there around 5 PM and drove home in a blinding snowstorm. My dad was a good winter driver. An interesting aside, my dad always drove using both feet, one for the brake the other for the gas.  It took us about two hours to get to Slatington from Lehighton. I remember we couldn’t make it up the Main Street hill and he backed the car down and parked it on Diamond Street. This was, of course, before cell phones. He and I walked up the hill, through the snow, to our home at 46 Dowell Street. We were surprised to see the lights on when we got there. My brothers were there to tell us that my mom had passed away a few hours ago.

My dad died the day after Christmas when I was 31. Not a lot of drama there. We knew he was dying from years of smoking L and M cigarettes at the rate of three packs a day.  But the timing of his death, ugh.

On to the sweet!! Just a couple happy thoughts from childhood Christmases. One year I got a bb gun for Christmas. It wasn’t a Red Ryder, like the one from A Christmas Story. It was a Daisy and I never shot my eye out!  I used it a lot over the next year, terrorizing, and always missing, the birds and tin cans of Slatington’s outskirts.  Yes, my attitude toward shooting at animals has evolved!

The year my mom was dying in the hospital, I expected no presents from my dad. But he surprised me with The Beatles White Album. The album was wonderful! Of course, it was the Beatles! But the thought that in spite of everything my dad was going through, that he would take the time  to get me something he knew I would love, made this  a most memorable Christmas present.

My last Christmas memory is a funny hat story.  My sister-in-law, Eileen, got Russian hats for me, my dad, and her husband, my brother Jim.  I’m sure you know the hat I am talking about. Fur and classic. Think War and Peace or Doctor Zhivago.  I think we all opened them at the same time, looked at each other, and laughed.  Russian hats in Slatington. That was not going to fly.  I hope we didn’t hurt her feelings because she remains one of the most generous and giving women I have ever known. A true influence in my life. That being said…not the best at selecting winter hats!

That’s enough nostalgia for today. I wish all of my readers a very merry Christmas. I hope you find peace on Christmas Eve and presents under your tree on Christmas Day. If you are not Christian, or just aren’t celebrating Christmas for other reasons, I wish you happiness and laughter. I am taking a blog break until New Year’s Eve Day.   If you are out today looking for last minute gifts, I hear that Russian hats are making a comeback! I wish you all love and kindness and the best holiday season you can imagine!

Remember the old TV show, Mad About You, with Paul Reiser and Helen Hunt?  There was a running gag in the show that their floor had a slight slope to it, but Helen Hunt was the only one who thought so. She would theatrically have her foot go out from under her when she reached that part of the floor.

I lived in a house like that from 8th to 10th grades. 46 Dowell Street in Slatington. No theatrics needed. The kitchen floor sloped downward toward the back of the house. It was an easily visible slope too, more of a slant, maybe a 30 degree slant (I admit math is not my thing). My nephew Jimmy was just a toddler then and if he would wander to the back of the kitchen, he would have to struggle to get back up the slope!

Some logistics. I grew up lower middle class. My parents never owned a home. My dad was a door to door salesman working on commission alone. My mom, due to a bad heart, did not work outside the home. So, we didn’t have a lot, but we had enough. We didn’t always rent the best places but most of them were just fine. Even 46 Dowell was fine, except for that slanted kitchen.

Beyond the kitchen was a small backyard followed by a wooded cliff that dropped down to the railroad and the creek below.  There apparently was some concern that it was the whole cliff subsiding but it was determined that, no, it was just my house. Great.

The owners hired Dick Marlatt, a local contractor, to jack up the house. That is what they did. They jacked up the back of the house and added new supports. It was fun to watch and a little scary. What if the whole house falls apart while it is being raised?  Thanks to the excellent work of Dick Marlatt and his assistant, Charlie (?) Cunfer (the father of a classmate!), the house was once again level and stable.

In hindsight, it was kind of fun living in a unique, funhouse type of dwelling. It was a good conversation starter. We had a lot of laughs watching my nephew struggle to walk uphill. The house is still there. I drove by it yesterday. I wonder if the kitchen is still on an even keel. My guess is yes.

As for Mad About You…I believe Helen Hunt!

 

 

 

Every small town has its Main Street. It may not be called Main Street but it is still the main street.  Every small town has its parks and its library. Every small town has its collection of churches and its collection of bars. Every small town has its doctors and its lawyers. I write about my home town, Slatington, a lot. So I tried to think, other than the fact that I grew up there, what makes Slatington unique among small towns?

I came up with three answers. If you can think of others, please leave a comment.

First there is our Hundred Steps. Here is a picture.

The Hundred Steps were built decades ago, and before my time. They connect Uptown Slatington with Downtown Slatington. I don’t know how often they get used but they are still maintained by the borough. My older brothers tell stories of them running up the stairs at school lunchtime, from the Roosevelt Elementary building all the way to the end of West Franklin Street, just to eat lunch at home. My good friend Christy Haydt, an expert on Slatington history, told me there are not actually a hundred steps, but it is somewhere in the 90s.

The second unique thing about Slatington is the fish hatchery. Here is a picture.

How many towns can lay claim to having a fish hatchery on Main Street?  It was the first town reservoir. I am not sure when it was no longer the reservoir but it is still a fish hatchery to this day. It was a fish hatchery when  I was a little kid. Most of the fish raised here end up in Trout Creek, which flows through the middle of town.

The final unique thing about Slatington is Bedbug Cave. Sorry, no picture. It’s not really a cave. It is a tunnel that contains slate quarries. The tunnel burrows under homes in the middle of town. It was a fun, and scary, place to hang out in my youth, very warm in the winter and cool and refreshing in the summer.  It got its name, Bedbug, because it was right next to a mattress factory. The ruins of the mattress factory are still there as is a little bit of the entrance to the cave. For safety reasons, it is supposed to be off limits to today’s youth.  Not many towns have tunnel quarries underneath them.

A lot of today’s Slatington residents don’t even know about the Hundred Steps nor Bedbug Cave. The fish hatchery is right on Main Street so people see it all the time but may not know what it is.  What makes your town unique?  I know what is unique about today…it’s the first day of winter and it’s 60 degrees!

 

A shout out to Julio Iglesias and Willie Nelson for the title. But isn’t that a great title to describe the high school dating scene back in the day.  Nothing lasts forever. Everything has a lifespan. You most likely won’t go on to marry your high school girlfriend or boyfriend. I know there are exceptions to that rule. Even in the Slatington High School class of ’70, there are exceptions. I admire their tenacity and their long lasting love.

Alas, I am not one of them.  So when I thought about writing on this topic I remembered the classic admonition not to kiss and tell! But then I thought to myself, this is over fifty years ago so who cares!  Haha. Don’t worry, no graphic details. This is a family blog. Haha again.

Let me set the scene. I went to Slatington High School from the Fall of 1966 to June of 1970.  This was the time of amazing societal changes in music, in television, in movies, and in fashion. It was the time of hippies and free love. But we are talking Slatington here and things weren’t really that much different dating-wise than they were in the previous generation. It was still a time of raging hormones though, much like adolescence since the beginning of time.

I had three girlfriends, not at the same time, in my high school career. First names only, they were Barbara, Susan, and Suzie.  While I was “going with” Barbara she was really in love with a senior track star. We were both freshmen. Yeah, that didn’t last. Susan and I were both sophomores.  I didn’t have a car yet. We would meet at the library and I  would walk her home. We would make the steep climb up Diamond Street and kiss goodnight under the streetlight near her home. Yeah, she dumped me for an upperclassman wrestler. Oh well. Life goes on. My senior year was taken up by a fascination with Suzie, a sophomore. I had a car then and we would go “parking”  on an old road near Victory Park. Interestingly, Susan and her wrestler would often be on the same road! The irony! Suzie and I ended when I graduated, thus ending my high school romantic escapades.

I don’t want to leave out a “friend date” I had with an avid reader of this blog. Bonnie and I went to see Gone With the Wind when it was re-released into theaters. Wow, that was a long movie. I thought it was over and it was only an intermission. We had a good time!

Looking back I have few regrets about this dating time. Perhaps I would have enjoyed my senior year more if I had not spent so much time with Suzie. Under my yearbook picture it is mentioned that I have a little blonde shadow. That was Suzie. She died a couple years ago and it was a really weird feeling when I found out, even though I had not seen her in over thirty years.

I hope this brought back some good memories from your own high school dating years. After all, one thing this blog is about is sparking good memories from a great time of life. But, enough reminiscing for today. I know some of you have to go to work. I don’t. I am semi-retired!

 

 

 

‘Tis the season of food. From Thanksgiving through Super Bowl Sunday food is everywhere in our minds, in our sight, and on our plates.  I’d like to give a little shout out to food that gets no respect. That’s right, institutional cafeteria food. In particular, high school cafeteria food. Even more particularly, Slatington High School food of the late sixties.

I loved it! I absolutely loved it!  Maybe that says something about my mom’s cooking. At home we almost always got the big triple threat: meat, potato, and vegetable. Oh sure, maybe an occasional casserole, but that was rare. After all, we were Pennsylvania Dutch!  So fifty years later I cannot remember a signature dish that I could call my mom’s best.

But I can remember high school cafeteria favorites of mine. Let’s start with Split Pea Soup.  Delicious!, especially when you found that stray piece of ham.  Almost all of my classmates hated it, so I often had more than one bowl. Yum!

My next favorite cafeteria food had a name change during our high school years. Meat potato burgers became porcupine meat balls.  I sure hope the change was a marketing ploy and not a change in meat source due to budget cuts. Yikes.  Either way, they were so good. A huge meatball of ground beef (or porcupine!) filled with onions and spikes of potato and topped by a delectable tomato sauce, all baked in an oven. Wow! The little potato spikes would stick out of the meatball making it look like a porcupine. Please, let that be the reason for the name!

There were patterns to what we were served. Thursday seemed to be big meal day and we got sausage or meat loaf and mashed potatoes. Split pea soup was always served with a small hoagie. On Friday, thank you Catholics, we always had fish advertised as Poor Mans Lobster with, of course, stewed tomatoes on the side.  Not my favorite!

Did I mention that back then, our delicious cafeteria meal complete with a carton of milk, cost a whopping 30 cents?

I was a leader in the change the dress code movement in our senior year. We threatened a boycott of the cafeteria to make our point. I was secretly hoping we would not go through with it because, like I said, I loved that food!!

I hope this sparked some memories of your own high school cafeteria food and experiences. They were good times. Delicious times. Well, at least they were in Slatington.

 

 

 

I am an introvert. I always have been and I always will be. As I have gotten older I noticed that I have learned to be an introvert who can say no more easily. The older I get, the more I no longer want to do things that I just don’t enjoy.  I know I can’t say no to everything. After all, I do have to pay taxes!

This is a story from high school where I wished I had said no.

We had a thing at Slatington High called Junior Declamation. It was a contest of juniors doing monologues in front of an audience of parents, teachers, students, and others.  There was some sort of prize for the boy winner and the girl winner.  Now remember, I am and was an introvert so , obviously, I had no interest in entering this contest. My comfort zone is not on stage, alone, talking.  So far, so good.

The contest was run by our illustrious guidance counselor, Evelyn Naylor. I say illustrious because she was known to be a little clueless and a bit incompetent.  Nice woman though. My personal experience with her incompetence was when she lost all of my materials for applying to East Stroudsburg University. But, I digress.

The school year’s Junior Dec Contest was lacking one thing…boys. None had entered the contest. Certainly not me.  Mrs. Naylor called me into her office and begged me to enter. Her idea was that if I enter, other boys will follow. She wanted me to break the seal!  She exerted her nice woman pressure and I eventually said okay.  What was I thinking! Apparently I wasn’t.

I chose a monologue that would at least allow me to use my nervousness for good. In my monologue I was a nervous bridegroom, whose future wife was late for the wedding!  I was so scared. I was sweating. I was afraid I would forget my words.  I threw up before I went on stage!  I should have said no.

I didn’t win that night, nor did I expect to. It was not one of those things where, once it was over, I said I was glad to have done it. No way. It was horrible. But, my dad was proud of me. That was nice. My good friend, Jeff Sayers, won for the boys. He did a Bill Cosby monologue and he was really good. I don’t think he was even nervous.

So there is my tale of woe. Another valuable lesson. Learn to say no. It may have taken me a few decades, but I am getting better all the time.

Here is a picture of our Junior Declamation contestants rehearsing. That’s me…being a  nervous bridegroom.

I am talking about gym class in my freshman year at Slatington High School.  That gym class had three elements to make up the perfect, scary storm.

Element Number One was us. Naïve, fragile, pimply-faced, college prep boys. New to high school after coming off a year of being the big shots of Junior High. Small in comparison to Element Number Two. Patience, that’s coming next.  Ready and eager to please in our spiffy new gym uniforms purchased, of course, at Marty’s Sporting Goods.  We had no idea who would be in our gym class. We assumed just us. But, alas, Element Number Two was part of our gym class as well.

Element Number Two was them. Experienced, confident, strong, menacing senior boys. They were the senior boys who today would most likely be in alternative school. They thought gym class was a joke. They must have been ecstatic when they saw that they would be in gym class with us, perfect victims. A strong, competent gym teacher might have been our saving grace. But, instead, we had Element Number Three.

Element Number Three was our gym teacher, Mr. Lloyd Williams. Mr. Williams was an historic figure at Slatington High. He was the coach of our famous 1954 championship basketball team, known as The Ironmen, who defeated teams from much larger schools.  I believe he was also an excellent athlete himself, at one time. But this is over a decade past his Ironman days and he was, quite frankly, old, detached, and ineffective.  He would greet the gym class, tell us what he wanted us to do, and then usually retreat to his office.

The wolves were in charge of the sheep. The fox was guarding the henhouse. My knees were shaking. It was a year of torture for us. We had basketballs thrown at us often. We were chased and mocked and tripped and ridiculed. One friend of mine was forced to lift his shirt and a huge face was drawn on his stomach and chest with permanent marker. Mr. Williams would tell us to run laps and the senior boys would suggest dodgeball instead.  Dodgeball it was. The shower room after was no better. Towels were snapped at us. Hot water was shut off of our showers.  Clothes would be stolen and tossed around. We never complained to anyone. We just assumed this is what it meant to be a freshman in high school. Like I have often written, these were simpler times.

We all survived this, of course.  I think that the way I handled myself in this gym class kept me from being a prime victim of the torture. It is a lesson I learned that has been valuable in the rest of my life.  Because, we all know, bullies are everywhere. My advice, if confronting a bully is not an option, is to first keep a low profile. Second, never give them the reaction they are looking for (easier said than done). Third, be a master of self deprecating humor and be able to laugh at yourself. Finally, even when the wolves are at the door, be consistently respectful and kind .  That eventually pays off.  At least it has in my life.

The other lesson I learned from this class is that there will always be people who want to take advantage of the vulnerabilities of others. Don’t be one of those people!