My name is Dennis and I am a cartophile!  Don’t worry. It is not contagious. It is not a new religion. It is nothing that needs to be stopped at the border.  It simply means, I love maps!

I said simply, but there is nothing simple about a map. They come in all shapes and sizes. They come with all types of purposes. They come in all shades of all colors. Wars have been fought over maps and what is printed on them.  Maps are quite complex. But my favorite things about maps are the stories they tell.

I tried collecting maps at one time but it was just too diverse a subject and impossible, for me, to narrow down.  I can spend a rainy afternoon looking at a single map just as easily as spending it on a good book. If I am looking at a map I am imagining the people that live in those cities and towns. I imagine why  they settled where they did. I wonder why four million people live in Chicago while only a million live in Tucson.  Locally, I wonder why Allentown is so much larger than Bethlehem, even though Bethlehem is older. The questions are endless, especially if you have a good sense of curiosity.

I framed two of my favorite maps. One is a large map of Lake Superior. I learned to love Lake Superior when I had my travelling job in the ’90s.  Duluth, Minnesota was one of my favorite places to visit.  The map is beautiful and shows all of the cities and towns around the lake. It shows the lake depths and the location of shipwrecks. I know exactly where the Edmund Fitzgerald sank in 1975, losing all 29 of it’s crew. Thank you Gordon Lightfoot for not letting their memory fade.

My most favorite map, also framed,  is of my beloved Slatington, Pennsylvania. It is the town in 1870 and it shows every single property owner.  I can recognize many of the names as the same names of prominent families today.  I know why Williams Street is named Williams Street.  It shows the slate quarries that are in town or close to town.  It shows who owned the islands in the Lehigh River! It is fascinating, to me, to see what parts of town have grown into streets  since 1870.

Feeling nostalgic today, obviously.  I started out talking about maps and ended up in Slatington, yet again. Ahhh.

Rain predicted for the weekend. If you have any old maps around, maybe get one out and make up some stories.  I have one close friend who won’t be looking at maps this weekend. She is, literally, afraid of them!

I have a framed document of my great great grandfather’s service, as a Union infantryman, in the Civil War. It lists all of the battles he was in and the injuries he received. He was shot in the abdomen in the major battle, Fort Wagner, that was depicted in the movie Glory.

I have two other framed documents from the Civil War. One is the draft notice for a different great great grandfather of mine. The other is his discharge from service a few weeks after he was drafted.  It explains that he paid a substitute to take his place. In Civil War times you could avoid serving by paying for a substitute. That means my family at one time had money and maybe a lack of courage!

So, two different ancestors and two different views of military service in the same war.  When I look at these documents I often wonder which route I would have taken.  I do not come from a family with a big history of military service. My dad did not serve in WWII though I think an uncle or two may have.  My oldest brother was a Marine and served in peacetime Japan in the mid ’50s. My brother-in-law served in Korea during the Korean War.

My closest chance at serving was during the Vietnam War. As you know, this was a very unpopular war and I came down on the side of the war protestors.  Before a draft lottery was installed, people who didn’t want to serve looked for ways to get deferments. President Trump having bone spurs would be an example.  People were getting married to avoid being drafted. People stayed in college to keep getting student deferments.

But the draft lottery was established and ended most of those deferments.  I was in the second draft for those turning nineteen in 1971. Basically, all 365 birthdates were put in a hat and drawn one at a time.  If your birthday was on October 4th and that was the first birthdate selected, it meant you would be the first group to be drafted that year. I can remember not being able to sleep the night before the listing of numbers was to be announced the next day.  I wanted May 22 to be the last drawn, lottery number 365.  But, instead I was number 162.  Predictions were that the draft would reach around the number 160. I had to worry all year about that letter in the mail.  It never came.

So, does my wish for a lottery number 365 make me a coward? Maybe. I could have enlisted at any time.  I know I was afraid to die.  I know I was against the war.

But one thing I know for certain. I am a rule follower. Had my lottery number been higher and I had been drafted I would have served my country, not skipped off to Canada.  I have no doubt about that.  Would I be here today? Who knows? Am I glad I didn’t go to Viet Nam. Yes.  But I still feel a tinge of guilt when I meet someone who did serve or when I see pictures of the Viet Nam War Memorial.

Life is full of tests. I’m still not sure if I passed or failed this one.

Why would Muhammed Ali be a hero of mine?  When he first hit the scene, he was brash, loud, pompous, and called people names. He even called Joe Frazier an Uncle Tom.  He was the opposite of things I cherish in my life: humility, quiet, and respectfulness.  He made his living knocking people temporarily unconscious. I love peacefulness.  So, what was the attraction?

My introduction to boxing was watching Friday Night Fights with my dad in the early 60s. It was an actual prime time network show.  We both used to cheer for a boxer named Denny Moyer. I just googled him. He died in 2010 with a record of 89 and 34!

My introduction to Muhammed Ali was probably when he won the Heavyweight Championship against Sonny Liston in 1964.  After that victory his brashness and pomposity only increased. But still….there was something about him.

One reason is that he represented the changing times of the ’60s. Everything was changing then, music, fashion, politics, and attitudes toward life.  Ali was something we had never seen before. He was a product of his times.

Another reason is that it was mostly just an act. Ali truly loved people. I found that out later in life as I read more about him. And , yes, he loved the attention. But to catch him in the quiet moments, especially with children, he appeared to be a wonderful man.

The final reason is that he was a man of principle. In the prime of his boxing career he spent time in prison for avoiding the draft. He was a staunch opponent of the Viet Nam War and was willing to give up his career and spend time in prison to stand up for his beliefs. In other words, he was willing to accept the consequences of his actions.

Last week I saw the sports photography exhibit at Allentown Art Museum. There was a section of a room devoted to Ali. The first photo is probably the most famous. It is Ali glowering over his defeated, and horizontal, opponent Sonny Liston.  You would know this photo.  That picture captures his essence.The glower, the brashness, and yet, if you look closely, there is a bit of a twinkle in his eye.

Ali is gone from us now, but wow what a life!  I think the ultimate connection between Ali and me is that love of life and taking advantage of what it has to offer.  Of course, I wasn’t as successful as him nor do I have the same strength of principles. But he is still, to this day, someone I look up to.

Storm clouds are brewing in the Lehigh Valley today. Look for alternate picnic spots!

On Tuesday I turned 66.  As with any birthday it gives you a chance to look back. It makes you wonder why you are where you are in life. I’ve lived longer than my mom, who died at 54.  I’ve lived longer than two siblings, who each died at 65. I’ve outlived my daughter by a lot. She died at 17. So, I have a lot of life experience that would have been useful at age 12. What would I tell my 12 year old self?  Here is what it might look like, totally based on my own life.

First, take really good care of your teeth!  Toothaches hurt! Root canals hurt! An abscessed tooth is excruciating! Go overboard with the brushing, the flossing, the checkups, because Medicare does not cover dental care. Dental insurance for seniors is difficult to find, and is cost prohibitive.  Luckily, AARP came through for me, but it is still expensive.

Second, save money!  Save, save, and then save some more.  You will make enough money in your lifetime to have lots of fun and buy things that you really want or need.  But you can’t get back time. Don’t look at your finances every few years and say to your self I’d better get serious about saving for retirement.  Let me tell you….you wake up  one morning and your are 66!  Yes, it happens that fast! If you save from a young age and do it consistently over time you should be in a good place when it is time to retire.

Third, don’t be in a hurry to get married.  Wait for the right one.  But be sure she is the right one.  Be unerringly sure she is the right one. Take your time finding that out. When you find her and decide to marry her, be sure you are marrying for the right reasons. When you do marry, do your best to make it work.  Keep it fresh. Keep it interesting. Know that both of you will change over time. I’ve been married more than once. A wise woman once said to me. “You don’t have to marry everyone you date”.  I am passing that advice on to you.

Finally, enjoy yourself. Try to find fun and laughter in every day. Don’t take yourself so seriously. Bad things are going to happen, but good things are going to happen too. Hang out with positive people. Run from negative people. Be kind. Stand up for your core beliefs, but realize others’ core beliefs may differ from yours.  Cherish the people in your life because you never know how long they will be there. Travel. Try new foods. But never try turnips. No, never turnips.

***Thank you for the input on my blog. It was very helpful. I am continuing to write, maybe two or three times a week. My dwindle was caused more by Facebook than by my writing skills. Most people have been reading my blog when it shows up on their FB newsfeed. That is hit and miss. If you truly enjoy reading these, the best way to not miss a post is to follow me and have it delivered to your e-mail. Thanks again.

This is my 36th blog post. It will be the last, for a while at least. I have enjoyed writing my nearly daily posts and will continue in personal journal form. It’s been very therapeutic.

Unfortunately, over the past two weeks my blog has been under a consistent dwindle of readership. Maybe my writing quality has declined. Maybe my stories haven’t been as interesting. Maybe people just don’t have two minutes to spare in this busy world.

For the first five weeks I averaged about 20 daily readers. Now I am down to about 8 hardy souls. I appreciate their endurance!  On the plus side, my blog has been read throughout the United States and even in Europe and Africa!! There have been 818 views of my blogposts.

But….the dwindle.  I have been trying to think of how I may have contributed to this decline.  Was it too unfocused? Should I stick to one theme?  Should it be weekly rather than daily?  Was it too personal? Was it not personal enough?  Should I have not avoided political rants?  Did I talk about my hometown too often?

I would love to hear opinions from my readers. Well, at least from the Hardy Eight! I will take these into consideration as I think about a revamped blog.

The sun just came out in Schnecksville! Or as George Harrison once said, “Here comes the Sun!  It’s all right.”

 

 

 

When Emma and I get in the car to go somewhere, we play a little game. When both of us are seated, the first one to yell Music! gets to choose the music for the entire trip. I think I have lost about thirty straight.  I used to fight a little harder to win when I had Sirius xM. They had a Beatles Channel! I gave that up in a round of budget cutting. I try distracting her as she enters the car and sometimes that works. But mostly I listen to rap, hip hop, modern pop, and an occasional good song.

I think she is even a little tired of what is on the radio, as she often just plays songs from her Spotify play list.  I know there are some songs on that play list that she and I both love, but she won’t play those. Teenage defiance! When I complain that she doesn’t play “Little Moon” or “Don’t Lose Your Love”,  I get the retort:  “Should’ve been a little faster calling Music! Dad”. These kids today!!  She will occasionally throw me a bone and play a Beatles song, most likely “And I Love Her” or “Eight Days a Week”. Thank you, Em.

I don’t want you to think I am stuck in the sixties. I’m not. I like to listen to different kinds of music from different generations. There is one genre of music that I absolutely can’t stand and that is Jazz. Luckily, Emma feels the same. Her new boyfriend likes Country so she is starting to get into that. I can handle Country in small doses. There is only so much twangity twang twang one can hear at a time.  I hope that Emma  likes it for the sake of the music and not just because it is what her boyfriend listens to.

She listens to a lot of Eminem. I admit he is a genius with words and wordplay, but oh that language!  How many F bombs can you fit in a three minute song?  But just when I get my prude hat on, I remember even my Beatles can turn out a pretty filthy tune. Remember “Why Don’t We Do It in the Road?”.   Oh my!

Our tastes can be similar enough to enjoy concerts together. Paul McCartney and 21 Pilots come especially to mind.

I guess this difference in musical tastes is generationally expected and normal.  But I have go to get better at winning the Music! game.  Maybe today I will practice.

 

 

It’s Primary Election Day in Pennsylvania! Time to do your civic duty and shuffle off to the polls! Chances are you won’t need to stand in line very long. People don’t seem to want to vote any more. But people sure do still like to complain.  Vote because your way of life depends on it.  It really does.

My dad instilled, in me, the importance of voting. I remember, as a young child, going with him to our polling place, Slatington Hose Company Number 1. It was  better known as the Hose House at 4th and Church Streets.  He’d take me behind the voting curtain with him and he would explain what he was doing and why he was choosing who got his vote. I can still hear the sounds of the clicking levers and the curtain swooshing open.  I miss those old voting machines. My dad always remarked on his civic pride after voting. I felt it too even though I had no vote.  It was in these moments, with pride in my dad and in my country, that I became a Democrat.

I was an office holder! I ran for Borough Councilman in Slatington. Not only did I run….but I won!   I am proud to say that not only am I undefeated as a candidate, but am also unscored upon!  That is no Trumpian exaggeration. I won my primary, 43 votes to 0 and the general election, 112 to 0. You guessed it, I ran unopposed.  It was difficult, even in the ’80s, to get people to run in municipal elections. It is even more difficult today. In fact, when I joined council there were nine members. Today’s Slatington Borough Council only has five members, because people just don’t want to serve. I’ll save some of my experiences as a councilman for another blog. It was quite the adventure!

I am sort of a member of a family political dynasty. My big sister, Jan, ran several times, winning every time, for Tax Collector in the Borough of Lehighton.  I was very proud of her even though she ran as a ….gasp! Republican.   Haha. I know, this is a non-political blog.  But, come on….it’s Election Day!

I hope you will choose to vote on this beautiful Tuesday. The weather is perfect for an election.  I wish your candidates good luck, unless of course they are running against mine! Get out there and get some of that civic pride. Make my dad, and me, proud.

“Please don’t wake me, no don’t shake me, leave me where I am, I’m only sleeping.”  That chorus from the Lennon-McCartney song, I’m Only Sleeping, pretty much sums up the importance of sleep in our lives.

We spend about a third of our lives asleep. Put another way, we are sleeping for 25 years of our life! Rip Van Winkle slept for 100 years but his was straight through. Imagine if we could choose 25 years of our life and sleep straight through them, get them out of the way in one fell swoop.  What years would you choose?

I’d always been a good sleeper. That is until I got older, maybe around 60. As a child I slept, on non-school days, until about eleven. That changed when I was nine and spent time in the hospital for a burst appendix. After that I became an early riser and learned to love the morning. I am definitely a morning person and love seeing and hearing the world wake up. I love to watch the world get brighter, to hear the birds start to chirp, and thoroughly enjoy this mostly quiet time.

My sleep, after about age 60, started becoming more sporadic. It did seem to have a pattern though. Go to bed by 10, wake up between 2:30 and 3:30, try hard to fall back to sleep, and finally succeed at about 5.  Those of you with similar patterns know how little there is to do at 3 am.   I did, eventually, find something that worked to get me back to sleep most of the time. I imagined myself walking through the old green pigments factory I used to work in. I barely made it from one end to the other without falling asleep first.

Time for a shout out to blackout curtains!  If you have trouble sleeping, and haven’t tried these, rush right to your laptop or tablet and order some now. If you order them this morning, from Amazon, you can probably have them tomorrow. I love Amazon!! Maybe not their HR practices, but, no political rants in this blog.

I’ll end today with some more Beatles lyrics from I’m Only Sleeping. “When I wake up early in the morning, lift my head I’m still yawning, when I’m in the middle of a dream, stay in bed float upstream.”

Ahh, sleep and the Beatles…two wonderful things.

Enjoy your day. Maybe sneak a nap in.

 

A little about my mom on this wet, dreary Mothers Day.

My mom was born in 1913 in the coal town of Mahanoy City, PA.  She was the second of six children and the first daughter.  Her family was relatively poor growing up, her dad was a coal miner. Ha! She was a coalminer’s daughter! She left school in 9th grade to go to work in a cigar factory. Sometime after that, the family moved to Slatington when her dad found a job in the slate quarries.

It was in Slatington where my mom and dad met. He was attracted by her beauty and her leather jacket. He noticed her around town and actually went to ask her parents if he could date their daughter that wears a leather jacket. How cool is that! I heard, much later, that she was most attracted to my dad because he had his own car. So because of cars and leather jackets….I am here!

I don’t know much about my mom’s early married years. As I wrote about before, I came way behind my four siblings. I was basically an only child from age 6 on, so I can only reference that time.

I know that she had a tumultuous relationship with my dad. There were often arguments followed by long periods of silence. There were threats of divorce, occasionally, but everyone knew that could not and would not happen.  There were some happy times in the marriage too, I think.  One thing I got from my mom is that tendency to go silent when angry, but luckily I rarely get angry,

My own relationship with my mom was somewhat conflicted.  I always felt that I was not good enough for her or not the right kind of son. Positive feedback was nearly non-existent. She tended to use shame as a discipline tactic.   But on the flip side, she was probably my biggest supporter in that she wanted me to go to college and have a successful life.

Just a couple quick memories of my mom. I wrestled in high school and I remember her screaming and yelling whenever I was in a match.  I remember how she called her youngest sister, Lorna, every single morning and talked for at least an hour. I remember coming home from school, the day Kennedy was assassinated, and finding her crying in front of the TV.  It was the only time I remember seeing  my mom cry.

I lost my mom on Christmas Day in 1967. She suffered with heart problems much of her life and they finally caught up with her. She had been in a coma for about a week.  I take some solace in that  the last thing I said to her was “bye Mom” as I headed out to a wrestling meet. That was the last time I saw her conscious.

So, whether your mom is still alive or has gone on to another life, cherish your relationship with her. It is a bond like no other on Earth.

Happy Mothers Day!

It’s Prom time in the Lehigh Valley. My daughter, Emma, is only a freshman and so won’t be attending Parkland’s Prom tonight. But she said that, at school, that’s all anyone has been talking about all week.  Exciting times! Expensive times! My how times have changed.

My Prom was the Junior Prom. I think that was the case in all the high schools in the area back in the ’60s. I’m not sure when or why that changed but today it is known as Senior Prom.  Our Prom was held in the high school gym. We decorated the gym ourselves and had a small budget to do so.  Parkland’s Senior Prom is at Steelstacks. Knowing Parkland, they probably hired a contractor to make Steelstacks the way they want it.

Back in the day all we did to ask someone to the Prom was to ask someone to the Prom. Today they have themed Promposals and it is made out to be a really big deal.  I don’t think there was a single limo in sight at our Prom. Tonight I am sure they will be out in full force.  I can’t remember what it cost to go to our Prom, but Emma told me that the Parkland Prom costs $50 per person.

I am not saying that a Prom today is worse or better than when I was in high school.  But I am concerned that with all of the pomp, festivity, and expense there is a huge portion of a school population that cannot attend.  That, I think is sad.

So let me reminisce a little about my Prom in the Spring of 1969.  Maybe it can be held out as an example of how you can have a wonderful time and not spend a ton of money.

Like I said, our Prom was in the gym and we decorated it ourselves. We had a theme “Wonderland by Night” and that was the song that was played while the Prom court and their escorts danced.   We had eleven girls on the Prom Court, voted in by secret ballot. Each of them was to choose an escort from  their same junior class. I was lucky enough to be chosen. Thank you Bev Scherer. We had a dance lesson or two a few days before Prom.  I remember that being hilarious, as our gym teacher, Jim Waite, tried to teach 22 juniors the waltz.

Prom night itself was a wonderful time. I think we had a band, the Centaurs. Imagine how much that would cost today! The culmination of the night was the crowning of Prom Queen. Jane Correll was that girl.

I can’t remember any after Prom parties, but maybe I just wasn’t invited!

Thanks for allowing me to reminisce. It’s a rainy day, so maybe you can spend sometime indoors reminiscing as well.