The Reason for the Season?

So I read this article this morning about how the pagans stole Christmas from the Christians.  The article was written about an article Kirk Cameron wrote.  I have always liked Kirk Cameron, but I believe he has gone just a little south.  I try hard not to judge and believe that we have to believe by faith - that is how this whole Christian thing seems to work.  I have done a lot of research over the years into the origins of Christmas.  There is nothing in the Bible that suggests Dec. 25th is the date of His birth.  Again, for me it is all about the faith and not about the facts.  In my study of this awesome holiday, I discovered that Christmas did seem to start with the Pagans.  As years have gone by, this holiday has changed and changed adding from various cultures and religious beliefs.  My feeling is that Christmas or the week of the solstice is a special time for everyone, for various reasons.  Why not just celebrate the holiday and then celebrate it specifically according to your own personal beliefs.  There seems to be so much overlapping in meaning.  For example - fire -  Fire brings light, light casts out darkness, and people need to find the light because it is safer in the light than it is in the dark.  Fire would have been pagan.  Jesus, as we know is The Light of the World.  Christmas trees maybe pagan, because we celebrate the beginning of nature coming back to life.  We put lights on the tree - sure for decorative purposes - but again it is the beginning of rebirth of nature, and symbolizes Jesus as the light of the world.  I hope you understand my thoughts here.  The date on which Jesus was born is just that - a date.  I am just thankful that He was born.

As I stated earlier - I do believe strongly that I am a Christian, but all this "my brand of Christianity is better than yours"  smells very much like what is going on in the Middle East between all these different religions.  Every time I hear another story about Christians fighting with Christians (and yes it happens here in the states) it makes me sick.  Jesus got a long with everybody.  He was friends with the lowliest AND he treated them with kindness.  Jesus didn't gather his disciples together to talk about what a bunch of losers those other people are compared to those that followed ME.  

I became a Christian because my friend Dean was one.  Dean was gentle and kind.  He was also caring and in his own way - loving.  These were qualities I had not found in any of my friends to that point.  After spending hours of time with him and his family, I decided I wanted what he had.  I guess this hits the arguments  about saved by grace or by works.  How about both!  Sometimes we need grace and other times we need to show the Christ that is in us.  I do think that "Jesus is the reason for the season" (I know so cliche')  but I do.  Judaism does not believe there is a Messiah that has come and they are still waiting.  Do I personally believe this?  No, but I respect those that do.  The same goes for everything else.  In their purest forms most religions have pieces that overlap.  There are ideas in Buddhism that fit wonderfully with Christian ideals.  Because I follow some Buddhist ideas, does that make me a bad Christian?  Some reading this might say yes, but in my heart (and that is the  most important part) I believe that Christ was the Son of God.

In closing - I just don't understand the hate found in many of the groups that are in my words "my way or the highway" - We are all people too - We need to stop this non-sense of fighting with each other over religion and start to take care of each other.  Those ideas are found in religions across the board and it is the one thing which we can all believe.

**  I did not write this to start a fight - or to get into arguments about what I have typed.  These are my opinions - and last time I checked I am entitled to them.  So you are entitled to yours - but if you want to go all negative on my butt - save yourself - if you want to share your thoughts - start your own blog and you too can share your feelings.

Falling for a Horse or How Barbed Wire played an important part in my life!

I have two cousins - Bob and Pete.  They lived on a dairy farm when I was growing up.  At some point they started to have horses.  It sticks in my mind that both of the boys took riding lessons - no doubt due to their grandmother.  Bob was year older than me and Pete was a year younger.  Oh and at some point they put an in-ground pool in.  So for me it was like going to Disneyland.  We had the barn with the cows, the milk room (where the milk ended up after the cows had been milked), pastures, a creek, the swimming pool, the corn crib, the spring house, and their house was a big old farm house.  I forgot to mention that their mother was a great cook, and I frequently stayed for dinner.  My favorite was the spaghetti dinner and iced tea.  Her spaghetti sauce had a really good and unusual flavor and she made her ice tea with orange juice.  Like I said - Disneyland!

I am not sure how I old I was when the following happened, and it really is a dumb story.  I think I was in late elementary school.  I would guess 5th or 6th grade or even going into 7th grade.  My cousin Pete and I were walking around the property after we were finished swimming.  We walked up and around to the back pasture where the horses (by this time they had two) were.  I thought it would be fun to go into the pasture to see the horses up close and personal.  

I wanted to walk around and go through the barn and out into the pasture.  Pete suggested we climb over the barbed wire fence.  Now I was not a farm boy, but I was pretty sure that stepping over, under, or anywhere near to barbed wire was going to hurt - ME - not him he was a farm boy!  There was this part of a tree on the inside  of the barbed wire fence.  You had to step up into a tree (this was the easiest part FYI), step over the barbed wire and onto the other piece of tree trunk and Wahla you were in with the horses.  

I was not convinced that this was the best idea for me, as I tended to be on the klutzy or unsteady side.  Pete offered to show me how to achieve success without getting hurt.  He executed the maneuver wonderfully, but I was still NOT convinced that my own attempt would end as well.  I told Pete that I was going to cut my leg on the barbed wire.  Pshaw he said to me - that is just silly you will not.  I did not mention that by this time both Bob and Pete were taller than me.  Just a minor detail I am sure, but my legs are not as long as Pete’s.  Pete basically told me I was stupid, and he said watch me and I’ll do it again.  Pete repeated his excellence in climbing proving that really anyone could do this with no harm to oneself.  I still was not buying it  - he might be able to climb over the fence without injury, but I was not going to be so fortunate.  Pete demonstrated one more time and then offered to help me across offering his hand to help keep me steady.  

Against my better judgement, I climbed up the tree, placed my left leg over the barbed wire, and as I brought the right one over,  I slipped, drug my right leg right over a barb and was hanging on the fence.  The first thing I said besides shit - was I told you so!!! Pete helped me off the fence.  I had a slit up the back of my thigh that was easily 6 inches long. Did I mention blood?  Oh my goodness did it bleed.   Pete and I thought it would be a good idea to put leaves over the cut to keep me from bleeding to death.  Then, with Pete holding leaves on the back of my leg (so yes he kind of had his head behind my butt) we walked up the long driveway towards the house. 

We arrived and Pete called his mother.  She came out to look at it - I felt like a dope because I said, I knew this was going to happen.  Pete’s mother, Dolly, (also my cousin) said that she would call my mother.  The trick then was to patch me up so I would not bleed out before my mother arrived.  Once my mother arrived, she took me home. On the way home she kind of told  me, in a very nice way, that I was an idiot.  She called the doctor and got an appt. for later in the day.  I got a shot and the doctor cleaned up my leg.  No stitches required, just a big bandage. The worst part of the whole incident?   I could not visit Disneyland until my leg healed up, which would seem like a life time!!!

My Coffee Addiction

Many of you know that I have a very extreme relationship with coffee.  Truth be told, my relationship started when I was quite young.  I am not even sure I was in elementary school when I had my first taste of coffee.  Often for breakfast, especially on the weekends, my dad would have these short bread cookies called Lorna Dunes ( I probably spelled that wrong ).  The cookies, alone were kind of bland and dry, but dunked in coffee became a delicacy!!  It got so bad (my stealing my father’s coffee) that he decided I should have a cup of my own.  This coffee I drank was one part milk, two parts sugar, and the rest coffee.  In other words, I was drinking sugar and milk with coffee, so of course it tasted really good.  

This went on for several years before I just stopped.  I often wonder if this is one of the reasons I stayed short.  “They” always said that drinking coffee stunted your growth.  If this is true - I could be a poster child :-)  

It was many years again before I had coffee.  I was teaching the South Williamsport band.  We were at a contest at Williamsport High School.  It was VERY, VERY cold.  After the band performed, which was of course near the end of the contest, the snack bar was out of hot chocolate and tea.  The only thing they had left to drink that was hot was coffee.  There were parts of my body that were quickly losing any feeling so I decided I would suck it up and drink the coffee.  Now it may have been the extreme cold, it may have been that my palate had changed, or it just may have been desperation, but I ordered the coffee only to 

find out there was no cream or sugar!!  With great reluctance I started to drink the coffee, and to my sheer amazement - I loved it!  Thus began my intimate relationship with coffee.  For many years I drank my coffee black and loved it.  I always told my friends that if you put anything in your coffee you were not really experiencing “real coffee flavor.”  

Not sure for how many years I drank my coffee black and not sure how much I drank.  Some days it was a pot for myself.  I remember being so hooped up on coffee and teaching that I was bouncing around my classroom.  One of my students did ask how many cups I had had already drank on this particular morning.  It was only third period and I was up to six cups.  I believe that during this period of my life I was an addict.  I was always drinking coffee and never seemed to get enough. My students that year chided me by writing on their final exams that the one thing they learned this semester was how much I loved coffee!!

 Eventually, as all good things do, my stomach turned on me.  I could not drink black coffee without getting really sick in the stomach.  After some medical treatment, a diagnosis of GERD was assigned to me.  Initially I was going to treat this condition with not eating and drinking certain foods.  As you know that did not work well for me.  I continued to drink coffee, but now with milk.  It seemed to help for a while but eventually I had to be put on stomach meds so I could drink coffee.  Now the doctors did not know that (I guess?) but that is really what happened.  I started taking stomach meds so that I could continue to drink coffee.  I often think how silly this is, but I can’t imagine life without coffee.  I try to regulate my coffee drinking these days.  The advent of coffee shops was amazing.  I would rather go to a coffee shop than a restaurant.  I thought when I was going through graduate school, I would have my counseling business in a coffee shop.  I would call it “Coffee and a Chat.”  I have always found that sitting down with a good cup of coffee and a good friend was the best way to have a serious conversation.  

So it started when I was just a little nipper with sweetened coffee and cookies, but really began on a bitter cold night in Williamsport when I had my first taste of black coffee.

The Final Leg of My Journey Home

So I start up Bridge Street and the first thing I see is the funeral home where my grandfather was viewed. I had had other relatives die before, but Grandpop was different, he always called me “Bir Head” because I always had a very short hair cut.  I also remember not wanting to go to the funeral and doing everything I could to be late.  Problem was, my brother Bob was waiting for me.  When I walked in the door I was ambushed.  He questioned me about not going and I guess at some point he was tired of listening to me and “jacked me” up against the wall and said, “This is your mother’s father, you owe it to her to be there for this.  Now get your ass upstairs and get yourself ready.”  I did what I was told.  I did view grand pop and sat through the Mason’s ceremony.  It was ok and I guess I am glad I went.  The next day after, the short service in the funeral home, we were sitting in the cars waiting to go to the cemetery.  The mood was heavy and dark, my mom was desperately holding back the tears.  While we were waiting a patient from Pennhurst walked past the car.  For those of you that remember the patient’s at Pennhurst that were better, often held jobs or were permitted to walk into town. Sadly their clothes were not always in fashion.  There had been a TV commercial running about Krass Brother’s Men’s Suits.  This man walked past the car and Bob said, “I guess he didn’t buy his suit at Krass Brother’s.”  Just in that instance the mood in the car completely changed from sad, somber, and quiet to one of hysterical laughter.  

As I proceeded up Bridge Street, I passed the Rescue Squad which was famous for hosting dances, that were apparently pretty wild.  I never went so I never found out.  Next was Debbie Batten’s house and across the street from her was Teddy “Boom Boom” Bauman's.  Debbie was a grade or two ahead of Teddy and I.  On a sadder note, Debbie’s grandmother was my 2nd grade teacher, Mrs. Godshall.  What I remember about her was that I spent a great deal of time in the back of the room facing away from class looking into the coat closet.  It also sticks in my mind that I was chewing gum, and that was a fate worse than death!  So she made me put it on my nose for a while.  Thank God I was having all kinds of experiences being humiliated in my childhood.  It certainly prepared me for humiliation in my adult hood!  Ted, Debbie, and I hung out a lot together.  There were others, but I could not tell you who they were.  I passed “Blanchie’s Hill.”  This was one of the best sledding spots in Spring City.  Sometimes Teddy and Debbie would walk to my house and then we would walk up to the hill in driving snow and freezing temperatures.  We would stay out until very late at night sledding or having some hot chocolate at Teddy’s place.  Teddy’s mom and dad were older like my parents so they hit it off.  I was often up there for meals or Teddy was at my house.  I rounded the corner (the really bad corner on Bridge Street) and headed up toward - Hmm was it 724 that took you down to Phoenixville and up to Pottstown?  Someone will tell me I am sure!  The main branch of the bank I went to was on the left side of me, a gas station to the right of me, across the street was the shipping company (It was Jones and employed many people), and across from that was the place we often got food.  

I made my right hand turn and headed towards Pottstown.  I remember the outlets they had in Parkerford and that my friend Dave Willauer lived there.  I drove further and past what had been Countryside swim club.  The place where I got soooo sun burned that I had to take an oatmeal bath.  Further down the road was Dr. Peterman’s. He was a friend of the family and so we took our dog Blackie to him when she was sick.  Right next to him was a place called TOGG’S.  After TOGG”S opened I swear if we were not getting food from Andy’s on a Friday night, we were at TOGG”s.  They had fried chicken in a basket that came with fries and cole slaw.  Mmmmm now that was good living and eating.  

Finally I arrived at the juncture I needed to take to get on Rt 422.   I made my right and continued.  This area looked basically the same except the brush had grown up.  When I got to the High or Keim Street exit, I took it and decided to ride through downtown Pottstown.  This is where we did most of our shopping.  My mother and I could take the train from Royersford for pennies and arrive in Pottstown.  Public Transportation - who knew it would be in high demand now!  Mom and I had our stores we always shopped in.  The biggest and the one most frequented was The New York Store.  A fairly nice store with a variety of products.  The other was Penny’s, which was up and across the street.   There was a 5&10 next to a Woolworth’s that had a soda fountain!  The trick was to convince mom she needed something from the soda fountain.  It also helped if the fountain wasn't full.  If it was full, sadly I left somewhat dejectedly.  If we sat down, I always had a standing order.  A Hot Fudge Sunday with a Cherry on top and no nuts.  For someone in his formative years, this ranked up there with TOGG’S!!!  I suppose this may have been the start of my addiction issues as well.  Ah that’s right, in case you didn’t know I have a severe addiction to ice cream.  No like seriously severe.  It is almost scary severe.  Anyway after our sundays we general went to Bechtels Sporting Goods.  If she needed something for my brothers we walked down the next block to Weitzencorn’s Now this place was hip for sure!  Always had amazing displays.  I so wanted to buy my clothes there,but I was still in children’s sizes and as my mom pointed out, they only sold man sizes.  Hmmm not a man???  15 years of Therapy here I come!   Once we were done - we would either head back to the train or out the back of the New York Store, because that is where we ALWAYS parked.  We would ride in circles until a spot opened up.  It was free parking, no meters!   This would be one trait I did not pick up from my family, being frugal with money.  Though I have gotten better than I could have ever imagined, it took a very long time for me to get there.  I decided to “cruise the circuit.”  I can’t tell you exactly the names of the streets the circuit started and ended on, but you would start down around the McDonald’s near the hospital.  Then you would drive slowly all the way to the Manatawany Creek.  You would turn around and head back down.  You might spend three or four hours doing this.  It became such an issue due to drugs and alcohol, that they eventually had the police out to see how many times you went around and if it was too many they would write you up.  I think for a while it stopped altogether. I am not sure but I think they are back to doing it again.  

After one trip around the circuit, I decided it was time to move on.  I went back out to get on 422 and headed towards Reading.  From this point on, the trip was not really very surprising because over the past 20 years or so, I had been down to the Coventry Mall many times.

All the way home, my mind was flooded with the memories of those years.  My mom and dad, the things we did together, and the surroundings.  It was a true trip down memory lane.  After about an hours worth of driving, I pulled into my parking space, walked into my house, and readied myself for bed.  Yes, it may have taken me a long time to get home, but I had the treat of re-living some of the best times of my life.  Yes, there were a lot of things that were wrong with my life growing up, things I had to deal with, but Mel Schrader is right, I was lucky to grow up in a small town, and thinking about all of this helped to realize all of that!

The continued saga of my last drive through Spring City

I drove down Main Street in Spring City remembering where I used to ride my bike as a child. I was surprised to see that many of the sidewalks are still brick ... (which were not fun on a bike). Philco plant is still there but now is something else. I always ice skated at the rink out at Spring City Elementary, but Spring City built a rink down near the river.  It was quite large, people were able to build fires, and families could spend the day or evening.  I don’t think the rink had lights making it undesirable for night time skating.  Of course being who I was, I also had to be careful as to who came down to the rink as I did not want to get into a fight with someone. 

 There was the Pumptown Bar, which used to be named something else, but regardless it was still there and business was still thriving, LOL and after I looked for a picture to go with this post, I realized why business was booming!!!  LOL I think I remember someone telling me about this, but I clearly forgot!  I went past the Clemens’ and Wilson’s homesteads.  I started down the hill towards Poplar Street and immediately Darlene Umstead DiCola came to mind as she lived at the corner of Popular and S&K streets.  I had to cross the small bridge under which the sewer flowed creating a creek.  The Creek - If Darlene reads this she will remember the creek.  Actually we pronounced it the crick - Crayfish hunting was a popular activity at the creek.  I found a frog once and took him home to be a pet.  I also took tadpoles home and watched them become frogs.  Many an hour was spent “down at the creek”.  Right next to the creek was the Lumber Yard, which was no longer a lumber yard.  At one time it was a thriving lumber yard.  The house that I lived in was actually a mansion, owned by the owners of the Lumber yard.  

I finally came upon my house.  It is now overgrown and looking much smaller than it did when I was growing up.  It almost looks like the house is sinking down in the front.  It is one of the oldest homes in Spring City.  The house was in poor condition - especially the side I lived in.  My aunt’s side looked much better than mine but still a bit run down.  I was surprised to see that the mailboxes my aunt put out front were still there.  She wanted the mailboxes to match,in fact the front of the house had to be matchey matchey.  I attempted to turn around on Chestnut Street and then pull in across the street from the house.  Of course as I was turning around, I did not look at the traffic around me very carefully and nearly had an accident.  (this would not have been cool) I tried taking a picture or two, and of course while I was snapping pictures, the home owners came home and looked at me with great suspicion.  I thought I probably should leave before I met the Spring City Police - though I suspect it would have been the most excitement in the town in weeks.  

It was time to head for home, and I needed to turn around.  I decided to turn around in Rosie Gappa’s weigh station.  She lived in a very small little house, which had been an office for the lumber yard.  The weigh station was for the coal trucks to pull up into and then weigh the coal.  I spent a lot of time at Rosie’s.  She was a wonderful person.  She did not have a lot but if she could, she shared.  Many summer nights she would sit out front of her house, and I would talk to her for hours.  I think I learned a lot about life during those conversations, because we covered many topics.  I know that she is gone now and hope that she is resting in peace.  

I continued up Main Street and first pasted the Gappa’s house and then Latshaw’s Bakery.  David Willauer grew up there as his father was the baker.  Mr. Willauer was an amazing baker and David’s grandmother Ruth ran the front of the store.  They had the best - well anything they made was the best.  David and I used to play back in the barn and around the bakery.  One of the treats of playing with David was getting a sugar cookie - I think they were the ones they couldn’t sell, but that was always fun.  As I recall he was a really crazy person - I spent a lot of time laughing when I was with him.  I am glad that he had the patience to deal with a younger child! Right past the Bakery was the Liberty Firehouse.  I think the Libs were the pride of Spring City.  I attended the after prom party during my sophomore year of school, and having never been in the Libs, I was stunned at how large the area was including the bowling alley.  Of course living across from a fire house was kind of noisy, but in the end you really got used to it.  I just always remember counting the honks and then checking the key we kept in the kitchen bottom left cabinet.  You knew it was a bad fire if the Royersford fire houses would blow their sirens too.

I headed down Main Street and started to remember where everyone lived.  Mickey Trego, Denise Guadagno, and Clyde Walters came to mind right away.  It was later at night so the town was pretty quiet.  This allowed me to drive slowly down Main Street without making others mad.  I got down to the bank and then remembered that Ida Bickhart used to live across from it.  I also remember that Kathy Leskowicz lived above the cigar store.  Spring City Hotel seemed to be doing a huge business as the front of the restaurant looked packed.   Then I past Mosteller’s Seafood store.  They had the best seafood around.  This is where I learned to love scallops, because that was the only seafood I really liked.  My tastes have grown since, but then no way!  After Mosteller’s closed, it sat empty but had occasional tenants - I think there was a music store in there at one time as well.  Eventually my friend Dean Nafziger moved the business his father started and Dean was running.  Filter- Recon - opened up in there.  I recall visiting him in there frequently.  

Next was Phil Young’s Men’s Store.  Mr. Young and my dad played golf, and naturally he was always telling stories about Phil’s behavior on the golf course.  My brother Kris worked there when he was in high school.  I always wanted to work there myself.  Actually I would have loved to have taken over the business when he closed but that didn’t happen.  I did get my wish the last couple of years he was open; I worked Christmas Holidays for a couple years for him and then helped him close the store.  I have to say the last time I walked out of the store, I had tears in my eyes.  

Swartz’s grocery and kind of 5&10 was next.  It was cool that in Spring City you could walk to Main Street and buy your groceries in three different  stores.  Eddie Willauer’s sold mostly meat, Mosteller’s sold seafood, and Swartz’s sold everything else though they had good meat too.  Dean Nafziger’s mom (June) worked there.  I remember that once in my life I was dared to steal something from Swartz’s.  I think it was a candy bar and it was just a dare. This was the first and last time I ever stole anything.  My guilt was so overwhelming (and I am none of the religious sects that thrive on making you feel guilty).   I felt so bad about what I had done - I went back - on my own - told the owners what I had done and paid them for the candy bar.  Next to them I think was Main Tavern and then Andy’s.  The best meal at supper was often Friday nights when my brothers would come home from college.  My mom never felt like cooking nor did my dad, so they would call Andy’s and order sandwiches and french fries.  I always got a steak with sauce and onions.  That was always the best Friday night meal !

I rounded the corner and there it was - the Schuykill River bridge. Annnnnd

It was closed!  So much for the plans I had of riding through Royersford.  I called my brother, Kris, to ask him if he knew what was going on with the bridge - this bridge was the only link between the twin boroughs.  School was going to start soon and I thought about how complicated it was going to be to get the Spring City students to the school.  My brother did know about the bridge closing, but did not know the details.  I belong to a group on Facebook that is all about Spring City.  I posted the question and got my answer.  They were “hoping” to have the bridge done by the time school started, or they would have to take the students to Royersford via Parkerford.  I turned around in what used to be the Acme and then Genuardi’s, but now I couldn’t tell you what it was.  

I headed up Bridge Street to continue my trek … 

My Ride Through Phoenixville (with a brief stop) and on to Spring City

I drove through Phoenixville and found my way to the Main Street, which they are continuing to revitalize ... many more places to eat, and some coffee shops. It is my understanding that since this visit there has been even more places opening.  It is exciting that Phoenixville is coming back.  Actually I think it is exciting when any town comes back to life!

I did not see all the places as I met my wonderful friends Amy and Susan for dinner at PJ Ryan’s.  I should tell you that I met both Amy and Susan when I started my graduate program at Eastern University.  We were in the same cohort until I had to drop out for a semester to have one of the very many knee surgeries I have experienced in my life.  We remained very close and often saw each other between classes.  Back to Ryan’s - Ryan’s has been designed to look a bit like and Irish Pub.  Unfortunately it lacked much of a selection of authentic Irish food, but really who eats Haggis?  Do you even know what is in that??  I have recently discovered the wonder of crab cakes so, though not really Irish, it sounded good.  It was good, though I have had better here in Lancaster.  Loads of talking ensued, each of us somewhat taking turns to share what has been happening.  Amy is working in the counseling field, Susan was doing the same, but is getting her Psy D and I am ……. um ……. still teaching school and color guard?  Amy and Susan frequently remind me that I was a very good counselor and could be quite successful as one.  Maybe someday I will get back into the field.

As the evening came to a close, I decided to go home the back way from Phoenixville through Spring City and then to Royersford to 422 and on up to Reading.  I did get a bit lost finding my way to the back road to Spring City ... but found my way through the forest, which housed the urban legend, "Catman." As a youth, I would drive like crazy through that section to avoid getting caught by the “Catman".   The “Catman” lived in this woods between Spring City and Phoenixville.  Now to get to these woods, you had to travel through a Catholic cemetery.  I bring up the Catholic piece because at night many of the graves had candles burning on them inside red glass containers, giving off a very eerie feel.  I hated driving through that cemetery at night!  Once you got passed the cemetery, you went down a hill over a small creek.  There were places along here to pull off.  Legend had it that a couple was parking in the woods.  As they were “making out” they heard a cat scratching on the side of the car.   This continued for a bit when the man got out of the car to see what was going on.  When he did not return in a reasonable amount of time, the woman got out of the car and went looking for her boyfriend.  The next day the car was found and the bodies were scratched up with what appeared to be cat claws.  Suffice to say, I did not like this area at all.  

Once I got up the other side of the hill, my heart rate slowed down back to normal, and I continued my trek.  I drove past some old friends’ homes including the road on which my old girlfriend lived (Mary Karkoska).  I turned and went down Hunsberger Road to take me to Main Street.  One of my dearest friends, Dean Nafziger, grew up on Hunsberger Road. It was named Hunsberger Road because Dean’s mother’s family homesteaded the road.  Riding down Hunsberger  Road brought back a plethora of memories.  I spent a lot of time on that road after I graduated from high school.

And the saga continues ………..

Fishing with Clifford

In the later days of my elementary career, I had become friends with Clifford Tenney who lived on Chestnut Street above Church Street (I think it was Church).  He had an older sister, who as I recall, was quite attractive.  Which probably explains why she was also a cheerleader.  I don't mean to stereo type, but when I was growing up, those stereo types existed.   Clifford was a really nice guy, though a bit of a dolt - but a dolt in a nice way.  Cliff and I had been talking about fishing.  Fishing is an activity that all boys should participate in.  I don't mean to be sexist here, I think it is a good thing for girls to do too, but growing up fishing was not an option for me.  My dad was not a fisherman.  Cliff decided in the spring that I should have the chance to go fishing.  As Cliff liked to fish, he had a plethora of fishing gear.  We made our plans to go fishing down the river.  Yes you read it right, and I did not leave a word out.  People in Philadelphia gone down the shore, I went down the river.

The day we picked to have our fishing adventure was early in June, a beautiful day.  We had a sunny sky and warm temperatures.  The river, so you know, was the  Schuylkill River.  The river was the place the older kids in Spring City went to smoke. Ah even I went there to smoke, in fact I think Cliff and I would go down there to smoke.  But I digress (as usual)  So we went to "Bare Ass Beach."  Yes that was the name of the beach that was right next to where the Creek and the Canal met and flowed into the river.  To get there, you had to travel under the train trestle.  When we arrived at BAB, we baited our hooks, and cast our lines into the river.  Cliff was great at helping me and teaching me what to do.  We sat on the beach, which was really mud, and waited, and waited, and waited, and waited, and waited, and waited.  Nothing, not even a nibble.  Cliff created a little holder thing for his rod, and then walked over to look into the tributary that flowed into the river. I waited for Cliff to survey the area to see if it was suitable to fish there.  Cliff returned and suggested that we move our fishing gear over to this little tributary.

The water in the tributary was not very deep, and the water was clearer.  The draw back to this place was that it was on the side of a 10 foot high bank.  The bank was covered with all kinds of flora (flowery things).  I should mention that this flora was really just a plethora of vines covering the bank.  Cliff and I cast our hooks into this tributary, and mine went directly into the vines.  Of course it did, where else would it go?  Cliff chuckled and said we could easily retrieve it.  Did I mention Cliff was a bit of an optimist?  Did I mention that even though Cliff and I were friends, he clearly did not know me very well!  And now let the adventure begin.

First we tried to jiggle it lose while kind of pulling it.  Strike one.  Next Cliff tried to take a long stick and undo the hook that way.  Strike two.  I decided that if Cliff held on to my hand, I could shimmy down the bank and unhook the hook.  Right - like that was going to be successful?  So holding onto his wrist and slowly crawling down the side of the bank,  I thought maybe we could get the hook.  I was within inches of the hook, and told Cliff to lower me a little bit more.  Cliff then tried to lay down on the bank.  While doing that, his foot slipped, and he lost his balance giving me a bit of a jerk on the wrist.  The jerk caused me to let go of his wrist and of course I found myself sliding down the side of the bank landing butt first in the tributary.   Cliff yelled down, after he stopped laughing his butt off, and asked if I was ok?  Once he knew I was ok, he asked if could reach the hook and unhook it.   Really?  I just slid down a band and landed in a tributary and was now soaking wet, and YOU want the hook?  Errrr!  Sadly for Cliff,  I was not able to reach the hook  This meant that Cliff had to cut the line and leave the hook in the bank.  You know he could have done that right of way, and spared me the fall into the water!  But NOooooo I guess the hook was made of gold as we had to recover it!!!

I had to walk up the tributary to where I could actually climb out of the creek and get on dry land.  I was soaked so as I walked my shoes made noises.  Cliff thought that was particularly funny.  I was not so amused.  I got to my house and bid Cliff farewell.  He headed up Chestnut Street towards his home, and I walked into mine heading straight for the bathroom.  I would say I showered, but we didn't have one of those.  We had a tub with a hose and a shower head.  I cleaned myself off, got dressed and headed downstairs.  My mom had come home from work and asked how my day was.  I told her that I had made a life decision.  She looked surprised at my response and then asked what this life decision was?  I told mom that I was never ever going fishing again.  I turned and walked into the TV room where I settled down in front of the TV and watched until it was time for dinner.

As of the typing of this story, I have never ever been fishing again!  And I just remembered that a week or so later Cliff told me on the way home from school that he had gone back down to the river and retrieved his hook.  Really?