The "Taking Our Friendship To The Next Level" Story

My friend needed some attention so I had to take a
break from typing this story to scratch him.  Nice to have
 friends that only require a scratching to make them happy.

It was an ordinary day.  Had just run some errands and was arriving home.  Put the garage door up, but didn't pull the car into the garage, since I wanted to get the hand power mower out and go around the parts of my lawn that are hard to mow with the riding mower.  After completing my chore I put the mower away, closed the garage door and headed into the house to catch the last half of "The Price Is Right."  After the show I grabbed a can of beans and franks from the pantry and popped it in the microwave.  As I turned around I saw my friend standing at the back door.  Hadn't seen him since I fed him earlier this morning.  Creamsicle is our outdoor/indoor cat that we kind of adopted a few years ago.  Or, maybe I should say, he adopted us.  One day we looked out our rear door and there was this orange and white tabby cat standing on our rear steps.  Walked to the door and it scared him away.  Figured someone had dropped him off in the neighborhood and he was afraid of me.  Carol put some cat food out for him and the next morning it was gone.   One thing led to another and then one cold snowy night two years ago we opened the door to see if it had stopped snowing so we could start to shovel.  In runs this orange cat, hustles through the house and down the basement steps.  I took a dish of cat food down the stairs, put it on the floor and came back up.  In no time I could see that he was eating it.  He finally came tearing up the stairs and tried to get out so we opened the rear door and he was gone.  Over the next couple of weeks we tried to coax him into the house and finally one day he must have trusted us enough so he came in the door.  He enjoyed the touching and petting, but wasn't ready for much more.  Finally, a few weeks later, we managed to pick him up, put him in a pet carrier and take him to the vet to be checked.  Had already been neutered we found so we had the vet give him his shots and brought him home.  Over the past year we have invited him in quite often and he has accepted.  Then one cold rainy evening, after sitting in our laps for over an hour, we decided he was going to stay in the house.  He wasn't happy, but managed to get through the night.  One night led to another and he now enjoys staying in with us in bad weather.  Well, last night he spent the night laying stretched out next to Carol on the bed most of the night.  And ...... in appreciation of our hospitality, he decided it was finally time to reward us with a ...... dead bird.  Yep, as the microwave was heating my beans and franks, I opened the door to let Creamsicle in the house.  He walked pass me and as I was closing the door I saw a pile of feathers on the floor mat.  Grabbed a paper towel and went to gather them to throw away.  Under the feathers was the head of a sparrow with fresh blood on it and one small foot next to the head.  Right away I knew he didn't need lunch.  I gathered the mess up in the towel, turned around and there he was looking at me with his "thanks for the evening" look.  I knew I was going to be angry with him, but it wasn't possible.   For, you see, he was only taking our friendship to the next level.  And, giving me a gift was how he did it.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "Elvis is in the Building" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Headed to the Grandstand to see Mike Albert in "The Ultimate Tribute."  Show starts at 8:00 PM and the sun is just about ready to set to our left.  Beautiful day in the low 80s, but out here in the middle of nowhere, as the sun drifts below the horizon of trees, the chill is starting to set in as we find our places in the aluminum seated stands.  

We're at the Grange Fair in Centre County, PA and to me it's in the middle of nowhere.  Shortly, introductions of special guests, including some past Penn State football players, are made and then the stage lights begin to glare and the opening group called "AM Radio" takes the Grandstand stage.   Group of about half a dozen musicians with two vocalists entertain us for about 45 minutes and as the audience of maybe a thousand people start to get antsy, the announcer steps to the mic and says, "Elvis is in the building!"  The cheers rise into the cool night air.  "But," he says, "it will take 15 to 20 minutes to get the stage cleared and reset again.  No boos, but you can just feel the tension as he steps away from the mic.  Everyone stands to stretch before the feature performer takes the stage.  The crowd has all ages in attendance, but the majority seem to be AARP age.  Finally, the lights dim in the stands and the stage lights brighten.  

Two willowy girls stand in front of mics on the left of the stage while on the far right sits a musician with a mic around his head in front of a keyboard.  In the rear, atop a raised platform is seated the drummer with the lead guitarist to the right and the bass guitarist to the left.  The keyboardist begins......the drummer and guitarists join ...... A 2001 Space Odyssey ....... the crescendo builds ..... and from the rear of the stage appears.... Elvis!!  

The excitement begins with screams of joy from the older generation of women who I think actually believe they are witnessing the real Elvis Presley in person.  He grabs the mic and instantly opens with the 12-bar blues hit C.C. Rider.  I can feel the hair on my arms standing on end as the chills go down my spine.  Not sure if it is the excitement or the fact that I'm dressed in shorts and a short-sleeved T-shirt and the frost isn't too far away.  Mike Albert looks the part!  Long 60s hair and a long-sleeved white jump suit with HUGE belt and sparkles all over it.  On the back of his outfit was what appeared to be an eagle in black beading.  HE WAS ELVIS!!  At least in the eyes of the a part of the audience who are reliving their teenage years.  

After an opening medley of Elvis songs, Mike shows his personable side by talking with the crowd, then begins his next song.  He finds his way to the steps from the stage and as he is singing, walks into the crowd.  Camera flashes light up the evening darkness all around him as he stops by a woman in a wheel chair and sings to her.  Gives her a hug, kiss and a scarf from around his neck and off he goes to the other end of the crowd where he takes the hand of another older woman and pulls her to her feet.  Sings to her, thanks her for coming to the show and gives her a hug.  Next to her an older man stands with a camera in his hand to take a photo of them.  

Man on the left talks with Elvis who thinks he is the
husband of the woman in pink.  Man in gray hat is
really the husband.

Elvis thanks him for allowing him to sing to her, tells him how lucky he is and gives the lady a kiss and a scarf and works his way back up on stage as he sings another song.  After his final note, he stops and  looks back toward the woman and thanks her and her husband for allowing him to sing to her.  She looks at him and shouts above the audience noise, "This is my husband," as the man on the other side of her waves.  Crowd goes wild as Elvis shakes his head in amazement.  

Star of the show.

After a few other audience favorites with the help of his choral girls, he again makes a visit to the audience where he stops in front of a fellow.  After finding out it is his birthday, he grabs his hand and leads him back onstage with him, all while he is singing another favorite.  As he finishes he gives his familiar knee to the ground with arm and finger pointed in the air pose and hits the last note.  The band, except for the drummer stops.  Elvis tells the young man, who had Down's Syndrome, to end the song for him.  The fellow was so excited, but he still did the same pose as Elvis just did, ending the song.  The crowd gave him a standing ovaton.  It is so evident that the fellow is having the time of his life and then Elvis asks how old he is today, he tells him 42.  Elvis then told him, so that the audience could hear him, "That was the age when Elvis died!"  Wow!  The crowd grew quiet as the star realized what he had just said.  The fellow was escorted back to his seat and the show went on.  Song after song of Elvis hits filled the air, many of which the audience was invited to join in the singing.  

Young girl aides Elvis with his ending moves.

Then another song was offered and Elvis noticed three very young girls off to his left who were having the best time dancing along to the music.  He stopped his song and signaled to them to join him onstage.  Didn't have to coax them as they hustled on stage as fast as they could and joined him in his dancing routine.  At the end of the song he again did his move to end the song and one of the girls did a split in the center of the stage.  Elvis' girls who were his backup burst out in  laughter!  Then all three did a split as Elvis motioned for them to do another one.  

The stirring finale!

Great enter- tainment, to say the least.  Then, from the corner of the stage, someone hoisted a large American Flag as Elvis broke into "Glory, Glory, Hallelujah" to honor all the veterans in the audience as he reminded everyone that he to (the real Elvis) was a veteran.  By the time the last song was delivered I had forgotten how cold I was and I almost believed myself that he was the real Elvis.  What an entertainer as well as an accomplished singer.  Here's hoping I will get another chance to see his show in the future.  Great ending to a fantastic day at the Grange Fair.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "Welcome to the Grange Fair" Story

Miles and miles of cars and RVs line the rim of the fairgrounds.

It was an ordinary day.  Tired and dirty from walking the fair- grounds at the Grange Fair in Centre County, PA.  The yearly farmer's fair began in 1874 when Leonard Rhone, a local resident, learned of the Grange movement and decided it would be a welcome addition for central Pennsylvania.  He organized nine smaller Granges and invited all of them to a picnic at Leech's Woods near Linden Hall, 38 miles south of Pittsburgh, PA.  

Riding the Tractor Tram.

The picnic became an annual event, switching between Mount Nittany, Old Fort and the Penns- lvania Agri- cultural College.  Farm families began bringing tents to stay overnight, so Mr. Rhone borrowed tents from the National Guard and began renting them to the families.  Eventually in 1890, a permanent home site for the picnic was purchased in Centre County and over the years it was increased in size until now it consists of more than 270 acres.  

Sidewalk music show.

And, I think we must have walked on most of the acres today.  Today the Fair- grounds and Grange Encamp -ment boasts 1000 tent spaces, 1,500 RV spaces, 300 concessions, amusement rides, livestock, an equine center, a playground and 7000 exhibit items.  Crowds in excess of 200,000 walk the grounds annually.

Displays of winning entries.

Carol and I traveled to State College earlier this morning to meet with our friends Jerry and Just Sue, who live in State College, and Jerry drove the extra distance to the Fairgrounds.  After finding a spot in the parking lot, we hopped the tractor Tram to the exhibition area.  Visited the photo and art contest display, the hobby display, the produce and baking display then headed to the livestock area where we walked through the steer barn, cow barn, swine barn, goat barn and rabbits and poultry barn.  Naturally my camera was in full action mode throughout our visit.  

Preparing for the big event.

Time now for a walk to the Equine facility to view the 6:00 PM 6-Horse Hitch Competition, my wife's favorite.  Found seats on the front row of the aluminum bleachers and waited for the competition to start.  The horses that are used for this competition are the huge draft horses such as the Clydesdale, Percheron, Belgian, Hackney and Delani breeds.   Six gleaming one-ton horses create a spectacle as they stomp into the arena as one, outfitted in patent leather and chrome harness pulling the historically restored freight wagons. We could literally feel the earth tremble as the massive hitches passed by!  Five entries contested the event with a $2,500 grand prize.  

My favorite, but it didn't win.

The hitches circle the arena a few times then reverse their direction and circle again.  They then are lined in a row facing the judges.  They are asked to back up and come forward again.  You can't imagine what a sight it is to see six tons of equine attempt to reverse themselves in unison.  Near perfection!  As the horses stand in position, waiting for the judges to make their decision as to which team is the best, some whinny, some shake their head, but all have their heads high, since they know they are performing for the crowd.  

Winning team of Percherons.

The winning team, a handsome group of Perch- erons pulling a gleaming purple wagon make a victory round after all other hitches have left the area.  What a sight as the crowd cheers and cameras snap away.  After the competition we headed to the opposite end of the campgrounds towards the food vendors for our evening meal.  

Permanent tent campsites at Grange Fair

We pass tent after tent filled with furniture, tables and even TVs.  These are home to patrons of the fair year after year.  These tents sit upon permanent bases that are rented yearly by families who spend one week a year in the late summer on vacation at the Grange Fair.  

The band "AM Radio" perform at the Grandstand.

Reminds me of going to scout or church camp as a young boy.  Finally we reach the food vendors and the other three choose a bowl of home-made soup, crackers and a drink while I opted for dessert right from the get-go.  Peach dumpling and a scoop of vanilla ice cream did the trick.  Final event of our visit to the Grange Fair was to the Grandstand stage to hear the opening band AM Radio and the main event of the evening, Mike Albert "The Ultimate Tribute."  We knew we were in for a great time when the announcer said, "Elvis is in the house!"  But, that's another story for another day.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "Free At Last!" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Watching Americans who are in Washington, D.C. today to celebrate the 50th Anniversary Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s speech which many believe was the greatest speech ever given.  It was 50 years ago on a Wednesday that he gave his emotional and passionate address to America.  I have read the entire speech and until you do the same, you will not understand his passion and emotions with which he gave the speech.  He talks about the signing of the Emancipation Proclamation by President Abraham Lincoln in 1963 and how Negros still are struggling with the content of it's meaning.  That was 50 years ago!!  Has anything really changed since that day in 1963.  Has Dr. King's 50 year old dream been realized.  I think not!  How will it ever be realized?  Will I ever see racial equality in my lifetime.  Will my grandchildren ever witness racial equality in their lifetime.  Maybe, but it will take the courage and fortitude of all races to accomplish it.  Read his speech and maybe you will feel his passion and witness his emotion as you read it.  I know I certainly did.  Will Americans ever be free at last, or will they have to continue to only dream about it?  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I Have A Dream" Speech

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But 100 years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men -- yes, black men as well as white men -- would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check that has come back marked "insufficient funds."

But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. 1963 is not an end but a beginning. Those who hoped that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges. 

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.

As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating "for whites only." We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no we are not satisfied and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair. I say to you today my friends -- so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day, this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning "My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my father's died, land of the Pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring!"

And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true. And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.

Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado. Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi -- from every mountainside.

Let freedom ring. And when this happens, and when we allow freedom ring -- when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children -- black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics -- will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual: "Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

The "A Trip To Spooky Nook" Story

Front of the Spooky Nook Sports Complex

It was an ordinary guy.  Just picked up my grandson, Caden, for a few hours of fun and running errands while both his mom and dad work.  Since it was close to lunchtime I asked him if he would like to head to Roots sale, a farmer's market between East Petersburg and Manheim, just off PA Rt. 72N.  Market is open on Tuesdays during the year and features local produce, baked goods, meats and general junk.  I knew he enjoyed the Gyros that they make at one of the indoor stands and we could visit the animal auction and see what was for sale today while we eat.  But, kind of got delayed on the way as we were driving on Spooky Nook Road towards Manheim.  As we approached the old Armstrong World Industries facility on Spooky Nook Road, where Armstrong used to make ceiling tiles, Caden told me that his friend Max went to football summer camp at the place.  Then I remembered that the huge building was going through a $25 Million renovation and had been selected as the new home of the National Women's USA Field Hockey team until 2022.  Asked Caden if he had ever been in the building and after getting a negative response from him, I turned my '96 Mazda into the parking lot for a visit.  

Click on this image to enlarge so you can see the floor-plan.

The building is an immense rectangle about 40 feet high which covers more than 700,00 square feet on over 50 acres of land.  Impressive to say the least!  Parked the car and headed in the main entrance to the building.  WOW!  

The vast lobby of the complex with climbing facilities
to both the right and the left of the main desk.

The field house lobby was certainly impressive.  Greeting desk was directly in front of us with rock climbing walls that reached the ceiling on both sides of the entrance.  Asked one of the young girls who was working at the desk if we could look around the facility and take some photos.  Asked me if we would like a tour and I responded by telling her we would be fine on our own if we were allowed to do that.  No problem, so off we went.  To our left was a large snack bar with a one level sporting goods store while directly in front of us was an arcade an indoor adventure center.  

One of the second-floor hallways Caden and I walked
that have tennis on the left and baseball on the right.

In a hallway on the far right were the offices of Orthopedic Associates of Lancaster.  What a perfect spot for them to be located.  To the near right were steps to the second level which we climbed and were greeted with some remarkable sights.  4 turf fields for soccer, hockey, lacrosse, football, dodge ball and other turf sports, many batting cages and pitching lanes for baseball and softball on turf surfaces, a dozen basketball/volleyball courts and 6 full-sized tennis courts, all with nets that dropped from the ceiling of the field house to the ground.  

Free weights are featured in this workout area.

Second floor was also home to a series of dance and aerobics studios, fitness center and weight center.  Throughout the field house were locker rooms.  Caden and I saw one young boy getting tennis lessons, another boy taking batting practice, group of guys and girls playing soccer, people working out in the weight area and fitness center while a small group were playing a game of boccie ball.  

Basketball/Volleyball courts all with scoreboards.

And this is all taking place in one-half of the building, since the other half is still under construc- tion.  As we returned to the front desk I asked where the field hockey fields that the USA Field Hockey group were going to use for their practices.  I was told that directly to the rear of the building they were working on two outdoor field hockey fields, one to be covered by a climate-controlled dome for use throughout the year.  

Baseball field with turf infield.

Lancaster has long been a hotbed for field hockey with a few of players on the national team coming from this area.  My interest in that sport dates back to the early '90s when my daughter played goalie for the Manheim Township High School team that played in the district playoffs a few times.  

Soccer and field hockey fields can be seen in this pix.

The owner of this fabulous facility is Mr. Sam Beiler, former owner of Auntie Anne's soft pretzel chain.  He bought the Armstrong facility for $11.25 million in 2011 and started the renovations the following year.  This first class facility will draw world-class athletes to Lancaster for training and tournaments.  I will make a visit back to the field house after they announce the opening of the second half which will also contain additional indoor field hockey fields.  Well, Caden finally got his gyro, but after enjoying our self-guided tour of Spooky Nook Sports.  It  was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "Street Herders" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Mom just made me come in from the front porch because she saw a herd of steers running up the street.  Yep, a herd of steers!  Used to happen every so often when we lived in the last block of North Queen Street near the  Lancaster Railroad Station.  

One of my Polaroid manipulations of the entrance
to the Lancaster Stockyards.  The gates at the far
end were used for loading and unloading livestock.

Seems that we not only lived near the railroad, but near the largest stockyards this side of Chicago and quite a few times the animals that had been brought to the stockyards for selling or trading would escape the confines of the stockyards and head in whatever direction they found that wasn't filled with cars and trucks.  Right next to the stockyards was a bridge over the railroad tracks that would carry them one block to our house.  At times you would see men chasing after them while other times you could see men on horseback riding after them.  At times they would find their way into my backyard and start eating the grass.  As a kid, it was neat to look out and see the steers munching on the grass.  The Lancaster Stockyards was a 22-acre maze of wooden fences that held the thousands of cattle, sheep and pigs that were transported there for sale or trade.  The stockyards was founded in 1895 along the old Pennsylvania Railroad at the boundary of Lancaster City and Manheim Township.  They traded and sold cattle hogs, sheep and horses.  

Aerial view of the stockyards.  The
Lititz Pike (Rt. 501) is in the distance.

Lancaster opened earlier than any other stockyards in the nation and so set the standard for livestock prices in Chicago, Omaha and points west.  In the early 1920s, before I was born, drovers, who lived at a small hotel by the stockyards, herded thousands of cattle along city streets and into the yards.  They would also be paid 25 cents a head to walk them to nearby Ephrata or Lititz.  Other animals arrived by rail and later by truck.  Hundreds of men worked night and day to move the meat to market.  By the 1940s, when I was born, the stockyards was processing 10,000 cattle a day and over half a  million head of cattle each year.  In the mid-50s I often would travel the couple of blocks with my next-door neighbor, who was in his 50s, to the stockyards for straw and hay.  He would drive his old Studebaker to the rear of one of the barns and we would clean the straw and hay off the floors and stuff it in burlap bags.  We would use both for the  guinea pigs that we both raised and sold.  I had about 60 of them in my backyard while Bob had his in his garage.  My parents often thought it strange that a man in his 50s would want to raise guinea pigs with a 12 year old, and I guess they were right.  At first, livestock was sold by "private treaty," which is individual seller to buyer, but in 1964 dealers held their first public cattle auction in a new sales pavilion.  Cattle were driven in one door, weighed, paraded across the arena floor and herded out another door as the buyers were bidding on them.  Every so often a steer would jump over the rails that held the cattle on the arena floor and crate havoc in the stands.  

Stalls where I would get my straw and hay.

As late as 1994 the stockyards auctioned off 70,000 head of cattle during the year, but eventually Walter Dunlap & Sons, the largest dealer, stopped trading and shortly thereafter the stockyards declined.  For years a few of the cattlemen who had offices at the stockyards still kept a few cattle or hogs in their pens, but not to the extent that had been done in the past.  The stockyards was starting to collapse, the wood was rotting and the fences were starting to crumble.  

Amish dismantle the calf barn to move it to Myerstown.
Lancaster Newspaper photograph.

The once proud and famous Lancaster Stockyards was dying.  Then the looters started taking just about anything of value.  In 2008 the old calf barn, one of the final remaining buildings, was dismantled by Amishmen who moved it to Myerstown, PA and reassembled it. Shortly after that there were two discoveries of mosquitoes carrying West Nile virus at the Lancaster Stockyards so city officials completed negotiations to have the buildings and debris removed within a month.  The property, worth millions, had many prospective buyers in the past 5 years, but nothing really materialized.  Today there are a few buildings that house insurance and investment offices, but much of the space stands vacant.  Not sure who is paying the property taxes on it, but I guess that isn't my concern.  I miss the old Lancaster Stockyards.  I buried many a dead pet in the field across from the stockyards which is not a building that rents storage space.  I also used to ride my bike to the stockyards just to look through the fences at the steers, hogs and goats.  Pretty neat place in its heyday, at least to an impressionable kid.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "A Scary Day!" Story

Chesapeake Bay Bridge

It was an ordinary day.  Reading in the newspaper about the accident on the bridge that connects Maryland's eastern shore to it's western shore.  Bridge is officially called the William Preston Lane, Jr. Memorial Bridge, but most people refer to it as the Bay Bridge, since it spans the Chesapeake Bay.  A few years ago it was picked as one of the World's Scariest Bridges and if you have ever traveled it you know exactly why it has gained the reputation.  Recently a girl was driving along minding her own business when a tractor trailer rear-ended her car.  

Railing that she was pushed over.

It broke through the side rail, teetered on the edge for a few seconds, then fell to the water below.  She was able to get out of the car after it dropped to the bottom, push off the car and surface.  Swam to one of the piles of rocks that are around the bridge's pilings.  Had to be the scariest moment in this poor girl's life.  The bridge is five miles long and 186 feet high at the highest point and more than once I have driven it.  It is probably the only bridge that I am afraid to drive across.  The side rails are so low with openings in the rails.  A few years ago Carol and I were visiting the city of St. Michaels for a few days.  One of those days we decided to travel to Annapolis, the capital of Maryland and not too far from our stop in St. Michaels.  We began our trip across with very few problems, but as the bridge started to ascend, I freaked out.  I looked at Carol and said, "I can't do this."  "Can't do what?" she replied.  "Can't drive across the bridge.  I'm scared."  OK, what to do.  There is no shoulder and no where to pull over on the bridge so Carol reached over and grabbed the wheel and steered the car as I kept pressure on the accelerator.  We survived, but I can tell you I didn't drive the car on the return trip later that day.  And, I haven't driven over the bridge since that time.  Matter of fact Carol had to drive across most high-rise bridges for some time until my unusual fear disappeared.  I am fine as of now, but don't think I will ever tackle the Bay Bridge again.  I have found alternate routes to travel to Annapolis.  

Her car being retrieved.

As for the girl in the accident, the 22 year-old was quickly rescued by a passing boat and didn't sustain serious injuries, but I can't imagine how she can sleep at night, dreaming of her experience on one of the World's Scariest Bridges.  The National Transportation Board is now in the process of evaluating the side railings on the bridge and the safety of driving on the bridge.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "Hair-Brained Idea (minus the hair)" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Driving to State College for a week-end with out friends Jerry and Just Sue.  Usually leave early Saturday morning, since Carol works until late afternoon on Friday and the traffic from Lancaster to miles past Harrisburg is terrible on a Friday afternoon.  For years I have been thinking of a way to help with the traffic congestion and I think I have come up with a great plan.  Just have to get someone to listen to it and help with the implementation of it.  How about you?  Here is my plan ....... Now, I realize that it would take many, many years to implement this plan, and I'm sure I won't be around when it is finally given a try, but it will help others to navigate our nation's highways in super speed, without accidents.  The USA would have to be laid out in north-south and east-west grids with newly built elevated roads that have  concrete paths for the two wheels of our vehicles (motorcycles and one-wheeled cars would have to travel on traditional roads).  

My elevated pathways would pass through cities like this.

Between the wheel paths would be another grid that would carry a hook or claw-like device that would attach to a mating eyelet under your car, truck, bus or motorhome.  All automakers would have to build their cars accordingly or they would still have to use the traditional roads that are crowded.  Every 10 miles, on these north-south or east-west paths, would be a terminal much like on a turnpike or toll road.  At that terminal you would be able to pull up and have your vehicle attached to the pulley that runs between your wheels, something like on an amusement ride.  This would pull you into the flow of traffic going east, west, north or south for a minimum of 10 miles.  Speeds of 200 or more miles per hour could be maintained on these pathways.  To get off you would be able to electronically pick up another pulley that would take you off at the next 10 mile terminal of your choice.  No one passes you and no one would be able to slow down on the paths.  You would have to exit when you get off and use the traditional highways that we now have.  If you choose to go 70 miles north and 30 miles west you would have to get on the pathway heading north, exit after 70 miles, re-enter going west for another 30 miles, exit and take the traditional highway to your closeby final destination.  Total time could be cut in half or less with this system.  No gas would be needed, weather conditions wouldn't matter, no pollution would occur, jobs would be created, and since you would have more money from not buying gas, you would probably stop for lunch more often and shop more often.  Sounds like a no-brainer!  So why hasn't anyone called me yet about my idea.  I DON'T KNOW!  I'm not some kook or radical person.  Just ask anyone who knows me.  Wait ... that may not be a good idea!  Guess the oil companies are behind keeping my plan from ever happening.  But, someday.  You just wait!  Hope they call it LDub's Trans-USA Pathway.  I'll be watching from Heaven or wherever.  You can count on it.  And ..... if you can get to State College from Lancaster in 30 minutes or less instead of an hour.  Well, remember who made it all possible!  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.   

The "Summer Music Tour" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Looking over my Cicada Music Festival program making sure that I get all my facts straight in order to write my story for the day.  This summer Carol and I spent a few warm and lazy evenings listening to some of our favorite music and musicians.  Some of the local music venues are free while others cost a minimal amount for an evening of entertainment.  We started the summer with a concert at the Springettsbury Township Park bandshell in York, PA.  Their 16 summer music shows are free and they have some great entertainment available for all ages throughout the summer months.  

Carol and I both grew up with the Beatles and we decided it would be fun to hear Beatlemania Now which performed on June 12.  Their performance chronologically traces the Beatles career from their 1964 U.S. debut on the Ed Sullivan Show, to the finale of "Let it Be" in 1970.  Great evening weather wise, but not so musically.  We have heard several Beatles tribute bands and I am sorry to say this may have been the least favorite for us.  Their harmony was poor, their musical talent was borderline and their interaction with the crowd was sorely lacking. Best thing I can say about the concert was it was free!  We left the concert knowing that it had to get better.  On Wednesday July 17 we made a return trip to Springettsbury to hear Flamin' Dick and the Hot Rods.  

Flamin' Dick and the Hot Rods

We had heard them a few times before and knew we were in for a fun evening.  This Rock-n-Roll Party Band played a variety of music from the 50’s and 60’s - "The Golden Years of Rock-n-Roll."  It was an amazing evening with song after song that we could sing along to with their encouragement.  We finally felt in the mood for the remainder of the summer concerts.  August 5 we made our first of three trips to The Cicada Music Festival at the Mt. Gretna Playhouse.  The Playhouse is located in the beautiful woodlands of Mt. Gretna which is located between Lancaster and Lebanon, PA.  Called the Cicada Festival because Mt. Gretna is one of the many areas in this part of Pennsylvania where the cicadas emerge from the ground every 17 years.  And ..... this was their festival year.  

Phil Dirt and the Dozers took us on a musical journey back to a time when life was simpler, the world a bit smaller, and the cost of a new Chevy was about $2,000.  Poodle skirts, saddle shoes and the corner drug store were all a part of everyday life.  Now, you probably have guessed by now that I didn't come up with this description by myself, for it was taken directly from my Cicada program.  But, it truly describes the program they present every year at Mt. Gretna.  This is probably our favorite concert we attend every year and it didn't disappoint this year.  

Arrival, ABBA Tribute Band

Two nights later we hopped in the car and headed back to Mr. Gretna to see "The World's Greatest ABBA Tribute Band."  The original ABBA band from Sweden originated in 1971 and performed as a group until 1982.  The band we heard tonight, called "Arrival" also is from Sweden and began their tribute to ABBA in 1995.  They sported the original ABBA costumes and sang song after song that you would remember if you were an ABBA fan from the 70s.  They certainly did look the part in their 70s attire, and sound much like the original group, but their stage presence and personalities seemed just ...... blah to me, as if they were hoping to get it over with and head home. Our final music treat was the following week when we returned one more time to Mt. Gretna.  I should tell you that when the announcement is posted online listing the shows for the summer music series, the tickets sell out within a week or two.  Tickets priced at $13 certainly help fill the 600 or so seats.  

The Bronx Wanderers, which featured a father and his two sons as well as two old rock and roll veterans and a bassist who had just come off tour with Billy Joel delivered music that they described as "Back to the Future" high energy 50s, 60s and 70s Rock N' Roll.  I'll give them credit for one thing, they were LOUD!  Of course the fact that we were in the front row on the left side of the playhouse directly in front of a bank of speakers with earplugs in our ears didn't help.  At break, we moved to the rear of the playhouse and stood for the second half.  Their music was great, but the father, leader Yo' Vinny, talked constantly about himself and his family as well as how many famous people he knew.  Trying to impress the audience that way wasn't needed, just the music would have done that.  We had seen this group two years ago and really enjoyed them, but we will pass on another visit with them next year.  Our summer was a success music wise with a few good bands and a few we will cross off our list for next year.  Here's hoping we can find a few new groups in the future and give them a try.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "Living with the Genetic Mutants" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Back on July 21st I wrote about going to the eye doctor and having his assistant, Layne, tell me that at one time everyone had brown eyes and only with changes in our environment did the color of our eyes start to change.  I'm not sure I believed him and I'm not sure how many of you believed what I wrote that day.  Well, believe it!  Why?  Because I just read an article written by Professor Hans Eiberg from the Department of Cellular and Molecular Medicine at the University of Copenhagen who said, "Originally, we all had brown eyes." Ah, Ha!  So now I can also believe it and I will tell Layne that when I return in a year, since I'm sure he thought that I thought he was crazy when he told me that.  Professor Eiberg said, "A genetic mutation affecting the OCA2 gene in our chromosomes resulted in the creation of a "switch", which literally "turned off" the ability to produce brown eyes."  The "switch" was a change from an "A" (adenineto) to a "G" (guanine) in the OCA2 gene that regulates the pigmentation of our eyes, hair and skin coloration.  The mutation didn't totally deactivate the OCA2 gene or all blue-eyed people would be albinos.  The Professor believes that the mutation took place 6,000 to 8,000 years ago in the northern region of the Black Sea where the great agriculture migration to the northern part of Europe took place in the Neolithic period.  That one person who had the mutation occur within them is responsible for all the people in the world with blue eyes.  Be easy to trace your ancestry if you have blue eyes, wouldn't it.  

This photo shows my daughter-in-law Barb and my
grandson Caden.  Both of Barb's parents must have
had the blue-eye gene in order for her to her her
beautiful eyes and Caden got his from his parents,
so my son Derek, Caden's father, must have the gene.
Means that either LDub or his wife, Carol, carries
the blue-eye gene. I guess we could find out by
testing, but does it matter?  I guess we're all
in some way genetic mutants!

I also read that neither the first person to have the mutation nor his or her children would have had blue eyes themselves, since blue eyes are a recessive trait and therefore must be inherited from both parents.  Had to have happened from marriages within that family, through maybe distant relatives, that the blue eye color appeared.  If you have blue eyes, your neighbor or friend who shares your azure irises, is a distant relative.  The variation in the color of the eyes from brown to green can be explained by the amount of melanin in the iris, but blue-eyed people can only experience a small degree of variation because they will always be blue.  The mutation from brown to blue eyes isn't good or bad, but is one mutation such as baldness, freckles and beauty spots that has occurred over time in nature.  Wonder who the first bald guy was that I can trace my heritage back to and where in the universe he lived.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy. 

The "Patience Unlocks The Impossible Door" Story

Mike with one of his wildlife photos he has taken.

It was an ordinary day.  Just left the home that sports yellow siding and brown shutters on the west side of Lititz, PA.  Spent the last couple of hours with Mike Shull who taught in the Manheim Township School District with me for 38 years.  Taught first in the middle school and then transferred to an elementary school to end his career in teaching.  Taught all three of my kids in the mid-80s when they went through the middle school.  Also coached my two sons in high school baseball in the late 80s and early 90s.  Mike had a story to share with me about one of my favorite topics as well as his, photography.  Story goes like this ..... years ago Dave Strayer was the Camp Ranger at the Boy Scout's Camp Mack which is located between Lancaster and Lebanon, PA.  Mike got to know Dave through scouting and eventually became an Eagle Scout.  Mike's father always told him that when you find someone who is a "star",  attach yourself to them.  "Well, Mike found out that Dave was his "star" and maintained a friendship with him for many years.  

Sample of the 2012 international rate stamp showing
a Lancaster County Amish farm scene.

Around Christmas in 2011 Dave, who was an ardent stamp and coin collector, told Mike that the U.S. Postal Service was going to come out with a Lancaster County (PA) stamp.  Behold, the new 2012 international rate stamp arrived and featured Lancaster County, Pennsylvania (Amish country) as part of the Scenic American Landscapes series.  The photograph had been taken originally in the 1980s by National Geographic photographer James Amos, but never used as a stamp until now.  Dave and Mike tried to figure out where the photo, which featured a Lancaster County farm scene, could have been taken.  Neither one of them could figure where it had been taken, so they began a quest to locate the site and recreate the same photograph.  Mike shared it with the members of the Lancaster Photography Club and they to had no clue as to where it might have been taken.  He received many general locations, gave them a look but was never successful in finding the spot.  At the time, Dave was a resident of Audabon Villa, a nursing home in Mike's hometown of Lititz.   Mike would visit with Dave weekly to keep him abreast of his progress on their quest to find the spot.  Mike stopped at all the local Post Offices he could find around Lancaster County, but received no help.  Finally in March of 2012 Mike visited a "mud sale" in Colemansville, PA to ask about the stamp's location.  He found two young Amish farmers and struck up a conversation with them.  He asked them if they would look at a stamp he had of Lancaster and see if they might know where the location may be where it was taken.  Told them he had been on a quest to find the location to share with his friend who was dying. 

First photo Mike took of the original location

 "I know where that is," one of the Amishmen said.  He asked his friend, "Is that the Centerville Bulk Food store?"  His friend agreed then Mike asked for directions.  "It's over by Intercourse on Scenic Road."  Just then a fireman who was attending the "mud sale" came by and also agreed about the location.  Mike took his directions and took off for the store with the knowledge that his quest was coming to a close.  He arrived at the Centerville Bulk Food Store and after waiting in line, talked to the Amishman who was behind the counter.  The Amishman pointed out the window at the location and as Mike was about to leave, the Amishman's wife came up to Mike and told him they had seen a photographer at the spot a few times in the past and were wondering what he was doing.  Told him that since that time they had raised the height of their store so it may not exactly match the photo.  He hustled to his truck and shortly was at the location.  Perfect match he thought.  He snapped a few quick shots and off he went to have a few photos made and go to Audabon Villa to visit with his friend and "star."  Dave, very ill and facing death, managed to turn over in bed and Mike held up the photo he had taken.  "We found the spot Dave!  I believe our quest is finally over," Mike said.  Dave had the biggest smile on his face when Mike said again, "We found it!"  Dave replied, "No, you found it."  Mike corrected him with, "No, we found it!"  Dave seemed to come alive and he held the picture in his hand and shook Mike's hand.  Mike spent a couple of months waiting for the tree at the location to blossom and the fields to be plowed as in the stamp's picture.  

Mike's final photo with the U.S. Postage Stamp
he was trying to recreate.  Notice the horse's leg
is in the exact same position as on the stamp.

 Finally, on his 8th visit to the site he had all the pieces in place for the photo.  Set his Canon 5D Mark III on his tripod and waited.  Had to get an Amish buggy in just the right position for the shot.  Shortly he had it with the horse's leg exactly as in the stamp.  All was fine except for the fact that Dave had passed away on May 6, right before Mike took the photo, and didn't get to see the final result.  But, Mike still had the knowledge that he and his friend had accomplished what they had set out to do and was satisfied.  Another scouting assignment complete and a great tribute to his "star"!  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.  PS - my story title came from a statement that Mike had painted above the chalkboard in his classroom.