It was an ordinary day. Reading about Holocaust survivor, Saul Dreier, who formed a band to comfort others! His story read....Music has the ability to crack open hearts, to change minds, to heal, to comfort. When I was 89, I read about the concert pianist Alice Herz-Sommer, who had died at 110. Like me, she was a Nazi concentration camp survivor. And also like me, she had used music as a way through that terrible time. After the war, she continued to play to try to heal hearts. I felt that I needed to honor her in some way. It came to me that I should organize a Holocaust survivor band to continue her work. I told my wife, and she said I was crazy, too. But, I was very stubborn. During World War II, I was sent to several concentration and work camps in Poland. My whole family was kind, and I lived long. There was a famous cantor in one of the camps with me, and he would sing Jewish songs. And, in those moments of music, I found escape. One day, I realized that he needed a beat, so I managed to get two metal spoons, and I drummed for him: put, put, put. Almost every night, we would all gather and sing, even though we were starving and exhausted. That is how I learned the drums. When we were liberated, I was sent to a displaced person's camp in Italy, where there were actual instruments. I played the drums for the people in the camp and for my own joy! After I went to America, between work and raising a family, I didn't have time for music. But, reading about Alice Herz-Sommer brought me back to the way music can reach hearts. I bought some drums for my idea. At first, my wife said, "Either the drums go or you go," but when you've been married that long, you fight for five minutes and make up 10 minutes later. Through people at my temple in Florida, I found other survivors and their children. Our first concert, in 2014, was at the temple. We played Jewish, Polish, Hebrew and dancing music. We got a standing ovation! I felt like the sky had opened. And my wife? She said, "I live with you 51 years, and today you are my celebrity!" In 10 years, we've played all over America including the White House, Israel, Canada, Brazil and Poland. I will play for as long as I can, because music is life. I am not interested in politics or taking sides. My purpose in life is to get people to see that we are all one, we all sing the same song. - This story is as told to Beth Levin. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Friday, December 20, 2024
Thursday, December 19, 2024
The Winter Solstice Is On The Horizon
It was an ordinary day. The winter solstice will be upon us this coming Saturday. With it comes the shortest day and longest night of the year to the Northern Hemisphere - ideal conditions for holiday lights and warm blankets. For those who would rather have more sunlight, you can try to make your way to the southern Hemisphere, where it is summer. Or be patient: Starting Sunday, days will get a little bit longer in the Northern Hemisphere every single day until late June. These annual changes in sunlight as the Earth revolves around the sun have been well known to humans for centuries. Monuments such as Stonehenge in England and the Torreon at Peru's Machu Picchu were designed, in part, to align with solstices. Here's what to know about how the Earth's march around the sun splits up the year. As the Earth travels around the sun, it does so at an angle. For most of the year, the Earth's axis is tilted either toward or away from the sun. That means the sun's warmth and light fall unequally on the northern and southern halves of the planet. The solstices mark the times during the year when the Earth is at its most extreme tilt toward or away from the sun. This means the hemispheres are getting very different amounts of sunlight - and days and nights are at their most unequal. During the Norther Hemisphere's winter solstice, the upper half of the Earth is tilted away from the sun, creating the shortest day and longest night of the year. The winter solstice falls between Dec. 20 ad 23. Meanwhile, at the summer solstice, the Northern Hemisphere is toward the sun, leading to the longest day and shortest night of the year. This solstice fails between June 20 and 22. During the spring and fall equinoxes, the Earth's axis and its orbit line up so that both hemispheres get an equal amount of sunlight. The word equinox comes from two Latin words meaning equal and night. That's because on the equinox, day and night last almost the same amount of time -- though one may get a few extra minutes, depending on where you are on the planet. The Northern Hemisphere's spring -- or vernal -- equinox can land between March 19 and 21, depending on the year. Its fall - or autumnal - equinox can land between Sept. 21 and 24. These are just two different ways to carve up the year. Meteorological seasons are defined by the weather. They break down the year into three-month seasons based on annual temperature cycles. By that calendar, spring starts on March 1, summer on June 1, fall on Sept. 1 and winter on Dec. 1. Astronomical seasons depend on how the Earth moves around the sun. Solstices kick off summer and winter. Equinoxes mark the start of spring and autumn. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Wednesday, December 18, 2024
It Was "A 50-cent Holiday Miracle on Eighth Ave." Story
It was an ordinary day. Reading an article in my local newspaper titled "It was a 50-cent holiday miracle on Eighth Ave." Story went like this... In 1955, I was an 11-year-old boy, one of four children living with my family in Sunset Park, Brooklyn. My parents struggled to support us. They kept track of every dime. A week or so before Christmas, my sister, who was 8, and I decided to go window-shopping at a neighborhood mom-and-pop consignment store on Eighth Avenue. It was in front of a bus stop. We wanted to buy something for our mother, but we didn't have any money and weren't sure how to earn some. We looked in the window and saw a beautiful serving platter - well, it was beautiful to us - made of tin or some other cheap material. The price was 50 cents. We talked about how we wished we had the money to buy it. As we started to walk away, we saw two quarters land on the ground nearby. Amazed, we picked them up. We realized that a man we had seen standing at the bus stop must have dropped the quarters there for us. We brought them over to him. "They aren't mine," he said with a smile. "They aren't ours either," we said. Moments later, the bus came and he left us there with the two quarters. So, we took both quarters into the store and bought the platter. We "gift wrapped" it in a brown bag on Christmas Eve. On Christmas morning our mom opened the "gift" and with tears in her eyes -- as well as in ours -- we hugged and kissed each other. We were so happy and so blessed. Merry Christmas, everyone. The author of this beautiful story, "Arnold Krakow" lives in nearby Manheim Township were I went to school for 12 years and taught school for another 35 years. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Tuesday, December 17, 2024
The "Christmas Cookie Memories" Story
It was an ordinary day. Reading a story titled Christmas Cookie Memories which was written by Wendy Schreiner. Her story reminded me of years gone by when my brother and I would make cookies with our mom....and many years after that when my wife and children and I would do just about the same thing together. Every Christmas for years and years, my mom, my brother and I would head into the kitchen and make a floury mess of memories while my dad was at work. The different kinds of cookies we made included chocolate chip, oatmeal with cherries and raisins, M&M, thumbprint, Vermont maple, orange drop and brownie mound. Of course, what Christmas cookie-baking adventure would be complete without cutout cookies? My mom would mix up the cookie dough for the Kris Kringle cutout cookies, and once the cute cookies were cut using old-time cookie cutters and baked........the real mess began - the frosting and the decorating steps. We had different-color frostings in small bowls, plus we had colored sugars, sprinkles and other fun colorful decorations. The table looked like a disaster, and our fingers.....and, I'm sure, our faces.....were covered with frosting while our tummies were full of yummy homemade cookie goodness. We were blessed to have these baking times. I can still see the kitchen table clearly in my mind, like it was just yesterday. Mom's collection of cookie cutters is now stored in a big old cardboard shoebox. I think these cookie cutters are just awesome. There are bright red plastic ones as well as old-fashioned metal ones. I believe some of them were my grandmother's. Growing up, I remember using these very cookie cutters and having so much fun. I loved to decorate the Christmas tree cookies with light green frosting and then shake on colorful decorations. I also enjoyed decorating the Santa Claus cutout cookies. Yes, there's nothing like baking cookies for the holidays. The best part of all, of course, is sampling the cookies.....but not forgetting to leave plenty of cookies for Santa Claus! It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Monday, December 16, 2024
"The Angst Of 299" Story
It was an ordinary day. Just got out of bed, and while still in my PJ's, opened the front door and into my entranceway drops my morning newspaper. How's that for service? My wife and I have been living at Woodcrest Villas in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, going on our third year. And...one of my most memorable tales I tell my friends about the place is about getting my morning newspaper. There is no need to immediately get dressed, since my next half-hour or so will be devoted to reading my morning newspaper and watching the morning news on my TV. I should tell you that from time to time, the newspaper is at the end of our driveway, which means that my newspaper man is on vacation, but still doesn't mean I have to get dressed, yet! Anyway...today's paper had a large photo on the front page which featured a woman bowling at 222 Dutch Lanes in Ephrata, PA. The headline read...When Weidman got 10 strikes in a row a few years back, she remembers the nerves of approaching 300. "I could not walk, I was so shaky," she said. As you might have guessed...the front-page story was telling about someone who have rolled a 300 game and someone who was sharing their recollections of coming up just short of a perfect score. The huge one-inch-high typed headline read..."THE ANGST OF 299." A second, smaller sub-headline read... "Bowlers - some who have rolled a 300 game - share recollections of coming just short of a perfect score." Story also began on the front page, but at the end of the short column of type, the reader was told to see---"BOWLING, page A20." Naturally, that happens to be the "Sports Section" today. A bit of the story from page 1, written by Andrew Kehe, reads... The buzz in the bowling house was palpable. In his first varsity match for Conestoga High, freshman Ryan Graham had strung together 11 strikes. One more and he'd roll his first 300 game - on his 15th birthday, no less. As always happens when a bowler is on the brink of greatness, a small crowd gathered around his lane. Nerves firmly affixed, Graham took his ball off the rack, wiped it clean and aimed....His two-handed spinning release directed the ball within inches of the right gutter before the intense rotation snapped it back, left toward the pocket. Than ... bang! Are you ready for the next sentence in the paper?? A standing 7-pin stood defiantly in the corner, seemingly wagging its finger, as if to say "no-no" to Graham's perfecto. What a crushing blow, right? How do you go on after that? 299...are you kidding me? Hopes and dreams dashed by one stubborn pin. Or maybe not. He decided that "OK, now I know it's possible, so let's go do it." And...he did, just a few weeks later. And...to top that off...he's had 57 more since. Have you ever been bowling? Ever roll a 300? I bowled for most of my lifetime and I never have bowled a 300. Yeah...I know not everyone is a great bowler! I can attest to that fact! My highest was a 258 and I was in Heaven that time! My problem is that I don't go bowling all the time which is almost a necessity if you expect to get good at the sport. And, I'm afraid that I never will get a 300 since being 80 years old and barely able to stride down the lane and release that heavy ball is never going to happen again. But, I'm so happy to see someone achieve the best possible score that a bowler can roll...300! So, for now...I will read the "Sports" section of my daily newspaper and hope to see someone has rolled a 300 once again. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Sunday, December 15, 2024
The "Family Closing In On Quest To Visit All 50 States" Story
Saturday, December 14, 2024
"Susquehanna Canoe Trips Require Caution and Skill" Story
The author of the following story, Clyde McMillan-Gamber, lives in nearby New Holland. His story reads... It was an ordinary day. Reading about two small canoe trips on the Susquehanna River, one in early spring and the other in winter, several years ago! The Susquehanna is treacherous, and care must be taken to be safe on it. The first trip was the end of February, when ice broke on the Susquehanna and large chunks of it piled high downriver from Pequea. Seeing an adventure, I paddled our 17-foot aluminum canoe out of the Pequea Creek and proceeded downstream toward the ice jam. The day was warm and sunny, with a light breeze, as I paddled leisurely toward those heaps of ice. A flock of several goldeneye ducks flew off the river ahead of me, and with wings whistling, veered around behind me and out of sight. Seeing a few channels of open water between mountains of ice, I paddled into one of those leads and immediately turned the canoe around in case I had to make a hasty exit from those mountains if the ice shifted. Then I poured a cup of coffee and sat in the canoe to enjoy the river and ice scenery. A couple groups of calling tundra swans flew swiftly upriver, probably to land on Lake Clarke, the backwater from Safe Harbor Dam on the Susquehanna at Washington Boro. After about an hour of floating on the water amid hills of ice boulders and admiring the view and swans, I contentedly paddled out of that lead of water, up the river and into the mouth of the Pequea Creek. There I loaded the canoe and went home, satisfied with my little trip on the Susquehanna. My other canoe trip on the Susquehanna was early in December of another year. The day was partly sunny, but cold, with a strong wind. I was paddling downstream on the Conestoga River near Safe Harbor and saw the Susquehanna ahead. I could see waves and white caps on the river and thought "anybody who goes out there today is crazy." And so I did, without anymore hesitation. I briskly paddled onto the Susquehanna from the Conestoga and proceeded rapidly downriver because of the southbound river current and the north wind pushing me strongly. Along the way, I saw several ring-billed gulls struggling into the wind and little groups of resting black ducks and common merganser ducks on the river on the leeside of boulders to stay out of the wind and current. After several minutes of racing downriver, I decided it was time to turn around and go back upriver to the Conestoga to load the canoe and go home. I was kneeling in the middle of the canoe and bracing the sides with my knees, so I quickly turned that craft 180 degrees to headed upriver into the current and wind to the Conestoga. I paddled hard for a few minutes, but saw I was getting nowhere. I then decided to swing the boat around 180 degrees again and paddle downstream to the Pequea Creek to get off the river. By going directly into or with the waves, the canoe is not likely to tip over. But if waves hit it broadside, the craft could tip and dump me into the cold water. Though I had confidence in my canoeing skills, I knew to turn the canoe quickly and carefully to avoid tipping. And I did so, both times. I paddled with the wind and river current downriver to the Pequea's mouth, docked and called my son to pick me up at Pequea, not Safe Harbor. Again, I went home happy with my trip on the Susquehanna on a winter's day. I have never taken a trip on the river with Clyde. I know he is an experienced boatsman and would feel safe with him on the Susquehanna River, but I'm not a very good swimmer. Therefore, my boat trips are usually on shallow waters where the current is calm and the weather is warm. That is the only way I would travel by boat on the mighty Susquehanna. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Friday, December 13, 2024
Animals Understand Death Too! Story
It was an ordinary day. Reading a story dated 2018 when field researchers in Uganda came across an unusual sight: a female chimpanzee carrying an infant she had recently given birth to that was affected by albinism, an extremely uncommon condition in this species that gives their fur a striking white color. The scientists were able to document the reactions of her mates when they first encountered the infant. Instead of curiosity and care that newborns tend to elicit, the chimpanzees reacted with what looked like fear, with their fur on end and emitting the kinds of calls that signal potentially dangerous animals. Shortly after, the alpha male, together with a few of his allies, killed the little one. Upon his death, the behavior of the chimpanzees radically changed, and the apes, overtaken by curiosity, began to investigate the corpse, entranced by this being what smelled like a chimp, but looked so different. This tragic story is one of the best pieces of evidence we have that chimpanzees can understand death. The key here lies in their shift in attitude. What at first was perceived as a threat, transformed into a fascinating object. It was as though the chimps had processed that the unusual animal could no longer hurt them. This is precisely what understanding death means: grasping that a dead individual can no longer do what they could when they're alive. Some scientists who study animals' relations to death might disagree with this conclusion. Understanding death, they might argue, implied comprehending the absolute finality of it, its inevitability, its unpredictability, and the fact that it will affect everyone, including oneself. These scientists would be in the grip of what I call intelletual anthropocentrism: the assumption that the only way of understanding death is the human way, that animals either have a concept of death equivalent to the average adult human's - or none at all. This bias affects the field known as comparative thanatology, the study of how different animals deal with and understand death. But it couldn't be further from the truth. Nor is it the only bias that affects the field. What I call emotional anthropocentrism is the idea that animals' reactions to death are only worthy of our attention when they appear human-like. This bias leads researchers to look for manifestations of grief in animals; famous examples include the story of Tahlequah, the orca who carried her dead baby for 17 days and over 1,000 miles, or Segaira, the gorilla who attempted to suckle it's dead mother's breast despite already having been weaned. Don't get me wrong: animal grief is real. However, if we're looking only for mourning behavior, we may be missing most of the picture. Think back/ to the chimps. They weren't mourning the baby's death. But this did not detract from their understanding of what had happened. Grief is not the only signal of an understanding of death. In fact, there are many ways of emotionally reacting to the realization that someone died that doesn't involve grieving. You might react with joy if, for instance, you inherited a large sum of money. You might instead react with anger, if the deceased owed you money that you're now never going to get back. Or you might be totally indifferent, if you didn't know the person or they meant nothing to you. Of course, all of these reactions are taboo in our societies, and we wouldn't publicly admit to having them. But this doesn't mean that they're not possible. And crucially, they shouldn't mean that you haven't properly understood what happened. The polar bear that finally manages to catch a seal might understand death just as well as the heartbroken monkey mother, even though the former thinks of it as a gain rather than a loss. Our preconceived notions have prevented us from seeing that they are many more ways of reacting to death than what is considered politically correct in our society. In fact, an understanding of death, instead of being a complex intellectual achievement, is actually quite easy to acquire. If we manage to get past our own all too human biases, we will see that the possible meanings of death are more diverse than we will ever know. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Thursday, December 12, 2024
Christmas With Andy Williams
Each December, from 1962 to 1972, watching a holiday special on TV that featured singer Andy William and his family was a great way to get into the Christmas spirit. You always knew you would hear standards like Sleigh Ride, White Christmas, and I'll Be Home for Christmas, and beloved sacred carols like O Holy Night and Ave Maria. During those years, Andy also released three best-selling Christmas albums. He was known to many as "Mr. Christmas" because of his devotion to celebrating "the most wonderful time of the year.' Born in 1927 in Wall Lake, Iowa, Andy was welcomed by three older brothers, Bob, Don and Dick. under their father's tutelage, the four began singing in church when they were very young, learning to sing in perfect harmony. In 1938, when Andy was 11, the four siblings formed a quartet known as The Williams Brothers. They did so well that they had a radio show in the Midwest. In 1943, the family moved to California, and in 1944, the brothers sang backup for Bing Crosby on Swinging' on a Star, Bing's hit song from the movie Going My Way, and they appeared uncredited in several movie musicals. After serving during World War II, The Williams Brothers reunited and became backup singers and dancers for radio star Kay Thompson (better known now for her role in Funny Face with Audrey Hepburn in 1957 and as the writer of 1950s children's book series Eloise), and they had a huge success in Las Vegas. In 1949, the act broke up, but they reunited for a tour from 1951 to 1953. After that, the Williams brothers went their separate ways professionally, as the older brothers were tired of touring and wanted to settle down. Thompson continued to be an influence in Andy's life, writing songs and arrangements for his solo career. Andy was a regular on Tonight Starring Steve Allen on NBC from 1954 to 1957, singing in 276 episodes of the live late-night show. During that same time, in 1954, Andy signed a contract with Cadence Records and had several Top Ten hits, including Are You Sincere? (1985), The Village of St. Bernadette (1959), and Lonely Street (1959). In 1962, he was asked to sing the theme song from the 1961 movie Breakfast at Tiffany's, starring Audrey Hepburn and George Peppar, at the Academy Awards. With over 18 million viewers watching, Andy performed Moon River, composed by Henry Mancini with lyrics by Johnny Mercer that evening. Now signed with Columbia Records, Andy had already recorded the album Moon River and Other Great Movie Themes, which was released the same day the Oscars were televised. The album remained on the charts for three years, peaking at No. 3. Though he had had a successful show business career for many years, his performance that evening and the subsequent hit song made Andy Williams a bona fide star. The Andy Williams Show premiered on NBC in September 1962, and in December the first of his many Christmas specials aired. Edward Pool and George Wyle wrote It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year especially for Andy, and it became a staple on his Christmas shows through the years. Billboard rated Andy's original version of the song No. 5 in the top 10 Christmas songs ever recorded. The brothers appeared more than 20 times in various Andy Williams programs and were a staple on his Christmas specials. Between 1973 and 1982, Andy produced several more Christmas specials on TV. Out of the 43 studio, compilation and live albums that Andy recorded over a span of 56 years, eight were Christmas albums, with 1963's Andy Williams Christmas Album being the first. A year after it was released, it was certified gold for selling over 500,000 copies. Besides the success of his single It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year from his first album, in 1965, his Merry Christmas Album and Merry Christmas records were eventually certified platinum for sales over 1 million each. In 1992, Andy had The Moon River Theater built in Branson, Mo., where he contiued his traditional Christmas specials until his last performance in 2011. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Wednesday, December 11, 2024
Two Kinds of Christmases
It was an ordinary day. I was raised during the 1940s in Lincoln Park, Michigan which is a suburb of Detroit. My dad always said, "Michigan has winter and July." We had our share of snow in the long, cold winter, and mosquitoes and lightening bugs in the summer. At our house, we kids were always sent out on some errand on Christmas Eve. Upon returning, we were informed that we had "just missed Santa" and "Look at the presents Santa left!" We never believed Mom, of course, but we let her have her fun. In 1950, when I was 9 years old, my 12-year-old brother, Art, and I and two friends were sent out on Christmas Eve to sing carols in the neighborhood. The weather was mild that night with so many stars that they provided a glowing atmosphere for a special experience. Everything was quiet and still with just a little snow on the ground. As we sang our carols, a soft, gentle snow began to fall, and we could feel the Christmas spirit in the air. It was a perfect, magical Christmas Eve - just like in the movies. It was like a fantasy! The spirit of that holy night was felt deeply and never forgotten. That same Christmas, when we came home after caroling, there was a pile of white figure skates under the tree for me - it was just what I wanted. Detroit was extremely cold that New Year's Day when my dad took me to a large park some distance from home where there was a frozen pond especially for skaters. I was so excited. I skated around and around that pond and counted my falls while I learned. I fell a memorable 30 times in 30 minutes, but it was so much fun! Then the icy weather chased us home. Art got black hockey skates to play hockey with his friends on local ponds. One day he took my white figure skates and found that he could maneuver much better with them, so he kept asking to borrow them. No way! I didn't want scuffs on my new white skates. We didn't know then that it was our last winter in Michigan. We moved to San Diego, California the following summer, in July 1951. Dad was from a dairy farm in southern Indiana and had lived in Detroit for 14 years, mostly working for the Ford Motor Company through WWII. He got the flu that last winter in 1950 and said that now was the time to leave Michigan. He yearned for warmer climates. Our house was sold in June, and we packed our home-built trailer for California. Mom kept delaying our departure, so we remained awhile with her family in Ludington, Mich., to say our goodbyes. We stayed there for the Fourth of July parade, but it was so cold that the girls on the floats, dressed in bathing suits, were covered with goose bumps. We wore our heavy winter coats. That day Dad declared, "That's it! We are leaving tomorrow" And we did! Michigan had winter for sure, but sometimes it seemed like it didn't even have July. I never got to use my skates again, but I never forgot that special time. We drove West across the country through farms, fields, plains and towns, and across rivers, mountains and deserts. My mother had a strong fear of heights, so the hardest part for her was crossing the Sierras at Donner Pass. We arrived in Glendale, California at Mom's brother's house about 10 days later, just in time for the birth of their third child. After another 10 days, Dad had a job in San Diego with the aerospace industry. We settled in the eastern foothills of San Diego County, built a house, and adapted to a whole new world that had mountains, sunshine, warmth, a horse and even an ocean. Wow! And we thrived. After I was grown and married, in the 1960s and '70s, we celebrated Christmas Day in our home with our two daughters, often with their many aunts, uncles and cousins in attendance. It was usually rather balmy, so we warmed up the pool to enjoy afternoon swimming for kids and adults alike. That generations's experiences were quite different from my early memories of the world of Michigan snow. But life in California sun was also great, and it provided many different memories for all of us. I am grateful that I had the best of both worlds. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
CANCER - Breakthrough: AI-Assisted Colonoscopies Story
It was an ordinary day. Reading a story about Cancer Breakthrough: AI-Assisted Colonoscopies. Story read: John Lloyd put off colon cancer screening for years. When he finally had his first colonoscopy, at age 56, it found a tumor the size of a lemon. "I was lucky," he says. "It was stage 3 cancer that hadn't spread beyond some lymph nodes." Chemotherapy, radiation and surgery wiped out his cancer. Now Lloyd, 72, president of an electrical contracting firm in Durham, North Carolina, gets colonoscopies every three years. But, his most recent colonoscopy came with a sign-tech twist: artificial intelligence to help spot polyps that can become cancers. "It's like having another set of eyes," says Neeraj Sachdevaa, M.D., of RMG Gastroenterology in Raliegh, North Carolina. "It allows you to do a more meticulous exam." A traditional colonoscopy relies on the eyes of the doctor, yet some types of abnormal growths in the colon can be hard to spot. GI Genius from Medtronid, the first AI-asisted colonoscopy system available in the the U.S., got FDA marketing authorization in 2021; others are coming out. The computer-aided system swiftly analyzes in real time the high-definition video images from a doctor's endoscope (the tiny camera used to examine the interior walls of the colon during a colonoscopy). Potential trouble spots are highlighted in a green-edged box on the monitor viewed by the doctor. It's estimated that in 2024, 152,810 people in the U.S. willl be diagnosed with colorectal cancer; 53,010 will die, according to the American Cancer Society. Colonoscopy lowers cancer risk by finding precancels and removing them, Sachdeva says. AI has made colonoscopies even more accurate: In one study, the technology boosted the discovery of growths from 33 to 42 percent by doctors who were considered experts at performing colonoscopies and analyzing results, finding early cancers and reducing the rate of future tumors. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Tuesday, December 10, 2024
Chipmunk Christmas Story
It was an ordinary day. For one special night during that winter of 1963, Christmas Eve; our beds were moved back upstairs and piled high with extra blankets to await the arrival of Santa during the night. Before we went to bed that night, I remember watching the blue flames under the oil heater and worrying about how Santa would get into the house. Luckily, still believing in magic, explanations were easy for a 6-year-old girl, even though my dad, prankster that he was, had warned me that when Santa came, he was going to pull on his beard just for fun. Before heading upstairs that night, I remembered my mom, my sister and me enjoying our annual Christmas Eve tradition of snuggling on the couch to admire the big colorful bulbs on the tree and listening to Christmas songs on the record player - songs like Gene Autry's Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and Santa Claus Is Coming To Town. These were my favorites. We would sit there until I got sleepy. Then off to bed we went. Sleeping soundly that night, I was unaware of the drama that had unfolded between by brother and my dad after I had gone to bed. All I knew was that around 4:40 a.m. Christmas morning, my sister and I awoke to the strands of music floating up the stairs. It was Alvin and the Chipmunks singing "The Chipmunk Song (Christmas Don't Be Late). Excited and totally unaware of the early hour, we ran downstairs to see what Santa had brought for us. Of course, I was oblivious to my brother's sour disposition all day as I excitedly played my record over and over on my very own, Santa-delivered record player. I kept on playing the record for many days to come, which I now know must have felt like having salt rubbed into a raw wound, as it was the record player that was the source of the Christmas Eve drama. Apparently, when my bother learned of the record player on Christmas Eve, he demanded that the music had better not wake him up too early the next morning. Not to be told what he could do in his own home, my dad got up extra early the next morning, put the record on, and cranked the volumn all the way up, waking the entire household. Today, some 60 years later, as I occasionally pass the small house where we used to live, I see no remnants of the family that lived and loved there. But, my memories remain strong and feel as real now as they did back then. That record player is long gone, but I still have that special record from so long ago - and this wonderful funny memory of that long-ago "Chipmunk Christmas." It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
"Polarization" is the 'word of the year' story
It was an ordinary day. Reading in my morning newspaper that the results of the 2024 U.S. presidential election rattled the country and sent shock waves across the world - or were cause for celebration, depending on who you ask. Is it any surprise then that the Merrian-Webster word of the year is "polarization"? "Polarization means division, but its a very specific kind of division," said Peter Sokolowski, Merriam-Webster's editor at large, in an exclusive interview with the Associated Press ahead of Monday's announcement. "Polarization means that we are tending toward the extremes rather than toward the center." The election was so divisive, many American voters went to the polls with a feeling that the opposing candidate was an existential threat to the nation. According to AP VoteCast, a survey of more than 120,000 voters, about 8 in 10 Kamala Harris voters were very or somewhat concerned that Donald Trump's views - but not Harris' - were too extreme, while about 7 in 10 Trump voters felt the same way about Harris - but not Trump. The Merriam-Webster entry for "polarization" reflects scientific and metaphorical definitions. It's most commonly used to mean "causing strong disagreement between opposing factions or groupings." Merriam-Webster, which logs 100 million page views a month on its site, chooses its word of the year based on data, tracking a rise in search and usage. Last year's pick was "authentic." This year's comes as large swaths of the U.S. struggle to reach consensus on what is real. "It's always been important to me that the dictionary serve as a kind of neutral and objective arbiter of meaning for everybody," Sokolowski said. "It's a kind of backstop for meaning in an era of fake news, alternative facts, whatever you want to say about the value of a word's meaning in the culture." "Polarization" extends beyond political connotations. It's used to highlight fresh cracks and deep rifts alike in pop culture, tech trends and other industries. All the scrutiny over Taylor Swift's private jet usage? Polarizing. Beef between rappers Kendrick Lamar and Drake? Polarizing. The International Olympic Committee's decision to strip American gymnast Jordan Chiles of her bronze medal after the Paris Games? You guessed it: polarizing. Other top words were "demure," "fortnight," "totality," "resonate," "allusion," "weird," "cognitive," "pander" and - consistently one of the most looked up since it was the first word of the year in 2003 - "democracy."
Monday, December 9, 2024
'Like two teenagers in love': Lancaster County couple who divorced in 1975 to remarry!
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| Fay and Robert showing an old photo of themselves. Planning the big day has been Carol Smith of Reamstown, the youngest daughter of a duo who went swimming and ice skating at Greenville Creek during Harry S. Truman’s presidency. She’s enjoyed seeing her parents hanging out more and more over the past year. “They’re like two teenagers in love. They do everything together,” Smith said. “He said, ‘She was the first love of my life. I never thought I’d get her back. And now that I did, I’m not wasting any time.’” At his age, he can’t afford to, Smith said. Her father turns 94 two days before the wedding. His once-again betrothed is 89. “I think we’ll be good now for the next couple years,” Wenrich said. The pair declined to discuss reasons for their mid-’70s parting of ways.  It’s not their style. “It’s like my dad says: Why hold onto that stuff that makes you upset? Leave it go. Don’t keep reliving that,” Smith said. “Too many people these days do that. They form a wall and don’t ever get past it. And the kids suffer.” Smith said she and her siblings were fortunate on that front. “For us? These guys would go to church with us and sit in the same pew,” she said. “They would both go to the grandkids’ birthday parties. We’ve always been a family. And now that they both are widowed, they’ve found their way back to each other.” Originally, the couple planned to handle their second union at a justice of the peace. But Smith and others convinced them to accept something more befitting of their sweet story. That did mean Smith had to hustle to make everything happen in three weeks, in time for the one date Denver’s Bear Mill Estate happened to have available. “When she called me (on Nov. 11) and said, ‘Yeah, I think we’re going to get married,’ I had the venue and the pastor within the first hour,” Smith said. “And then everything else has just been falling into place.” Hydrangeas and white roses will go on the table and a corsage and boutonniere on the couple. Mother-daughter nails are getting done on Saturday.  The new "old" bride wearing her new ring. |
Sunday, December 8, 2024
The "A Very Unusual Merry Christmas Story" To You And Your Family From The Woods' Household" Stry
It was an ordinary day. Reading a story in my Sunday News that was in the "I Know A Story" column. Stories must be true and written by the author and must be told in 600 words or less. Today's story was written by a fellow named Arnold Krakow who happened to be the same age as I am and shared some of the same things that I did when I was a young boy living near the train station in Lancaster, PA. Story began with ....... In 1955, I was an 11-year-old boy, one of four children living with my family in Sunset Park, Brooklyn. My parents struggled to support us. They kept track of every dime. A week or so before Christmas, my sister, who was 8, and I decided to go window-shopping at a neighborhood mom-and-pop consignment store on Eighth Avenue. I was in front of a bus stop. We wanted to buy something for our mother, but we didn't have any money and weren't sure how to earn some. We looked in the window and saw a beautiful serving platter - well, it was beautiful to us - made of tin or some other cheap material. The price was 50 cents. We talked about how we wished we had the money to buy it. As we started to walk away, we saw two quarters land on the ground nearby. Amazed, we picked them up. We realized that a man we had seen standing at the bus stop must have dropped the quarters there for us. We brought them over to him. "They aren't mine," he said with a smile. "They aren't ours, either," we said. Moments later, the bus came and he left us there with the two quarters. So we took both quarters into the store and bought the platter. We "gift wrapped"it in a brown bag on Christmas Eve. On Christmas morning our mom opened the "gift" and with tears in her eyes - as well as in ours - we hugged and kissed each other. We were happy and so blessed. Merry Christmas, to everyone! The author of the story lives in Manheim Township where my wife and I had lived most of our married lifetime until we moved to Woodcrest Villas a little over three years ago. The title of the "I Know A Story" story from the newspaper today was "It was a 50-cent holiday miracle on Eighth Avenue." The picture that was attached to the story showed a pie on a pie plate that was decorated with a Santa. I loved the story and thought you too might enjoy it this time of year. My only comment I might have about the story today was that the picture showed Santa sitting in the flower pot, but the flower pot seems to be sitting sideways with the flowers running from side to side. Not that it matters....but it just seemed rather unusual to have Santa in the center of a pie plate sitting sideways on the flower pot. Oh, well.....It's Christmas......so does it really matter anyway? Merry Christmas to all of you reading this story and I hope you also have a Happy New Year. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Saturday, December 7, 2024
The "Brain Zapping" Story
It was an ordinary day. My wife and I frequently have difficulty recalling names and recent events. Often, the conversation goes ..... "What was the name of that guy we met at the mall? ... "What was the name of that restaurant we ate at yesterday? .... "What were we watching on Channel 8 last night? Yet, we can easily remember the name of our elementary school teachers or our Grandmother's phone number when we were eight years old. I still remember where to send four Cheerios box tops and 25 cents to receive the whistling ring that saved the life of 1950s radio cowboy star Tom Mix when he whistled for his horse, Tony: Tom Mix, Box 808, St. Louis, Missouri. Forgetting the name of someone you just met, misplacing keys, or having trouble remembering directions once in a while - these memory slips can happen at any age. As we get older, though, we may wonder whether these slips signal a more serious problem, such as dementia and Alzheimer's disease. Forgetfulness is often associated with a decline in cognition, which can have a serious impact on a person's ability to conduct activities of daily living, such as interacting with friends and colleagues, managing medications, making financial decisions, scheduling activities, and navigating the complexities of daily life. As the global population continues to age, the prevalence of cognitive decline and dementia is expected to rise, which presents significant challenges for healthcare systems, economies, and societies worldwide, and exerts considerable personal, social, and economic costs on individuals and families. Developing and providing innovative, safe, and effective therapies and treatments for our aging population is a pressing need. Neuroscience has made substantial progress indetifying the brain circuits and networks that underpin learning and memory. New research shows that rhythmic activity in the brain may be key to storing memories. Reinforcing those activities artificially may protect or even enhance memory for older adults in an inexpensive and sustainable way. In one recent study, 150 people (ages 65-88) received noninvasive electrical brain stimulation for 20 minutes over four consecutive days, while researchers read to them a list of words. They then tested participants' immediate recall of the words, as well as their memory of them one month later. The stimulation produced boosts in recalling the words two to four days later, as well as one month later. The scientists found that applying extremely weak high-frequency electrical current safely and non-invasively to the front part of the brain selectively improved long term memory, without changing short-term memory, while applying the same kind of specialized alternating current farther back in the brain at a low frequency selectively improved short-term memory without changing long-term memory. Thus, transcranial (across the skull) stimulation, depending on its location and frequency, could improve either short-or long-term memory because of the brain's ability to re-form and develop new neural connections throughout an individual's life. Before we all run to the hardware store for wires and generators to stimulate our brains, more extensive controlled trials are needed to replicate these results in larger and diverse populations and evaluate the long-term effects and safety. More research will also help determine the optimal parameters for stimulation to endure the longest lasting and most substantial benefits. However, these preliminary results offer hope to memory-impaired older populations worldwide. Oh yeah, I remember now - we were watching Gregory Peck in "To Kill a Mockingbird" after we ate a delicious dinner at My Neighbor's Grill last night. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy. PS.......I am 80 years old and my wife is....well.... much younger than I am and we both can remember what I just wrote about in this story...even after reading it two days ago. Could you do that? It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Friday, December 6, 2024
The "She Mothered Dozens" Story
It was an ordinary day. Reading my October/November edition of my AARP Magazine. On page 71 was a photograph of one Emma Patterson whom became a foster parent in her 50s...and kept going. Great story which I have posted for you to also read....You don't start out thinking you're going to raise more than 40 children - including two of you own. But, they're all my own, in a way. When my kids, Tamara and Floyd, were in high school in Silver Spring, Maryland, they'd sometimes bring home friends whom needed a place to stay. For whatever reason, their parents had kicked them out. I'd been a housewife until my husband and I divorced, but at this point, I was working two jobs. My kids still thought I was the kind of mom who could make the cookies and fix the problems. So when one of their friends had trouble at home, they'd say, "Let's go talk to my mom. She'll know what to do." We had a big house with extra bedrooms, and their friends who couldn't go home were always welcome to stay. I really don't know what prompted me to formally apply to the foster care system, but after Tamara and Floyd were launched, in the 1990s, I decided to open my door to younger children. Often the agency would ask, "Will you just help us for a couple of days, until we can arrange for longer-term placement?" They would bring the kids, and the kids would adjust and wouldn't want to leave. And so the county would let them stay. Most of the babies and toddlers I fostered stayed with me until they graduated from high school and eventually college. And most of them still keep in touch. My last foster daughter just graduated from high school in the spring. You do get a stipend from the county for their upkeep, but is doesn't cover everything. Whenever a child needed a dress to wear to the prom, I would sew it for her. If someone needed more for an after-school activity, I took it from my savings. I never wanted them to feel different from the kids in biological families. I consider every single one of these children to be a member of my family. I pray for my kids every night. I ask to keep them safe and watch over them, because they all turned out to be really nice men and women. They all have jobs. Some of them own their own businesses, some of them work in the medical field. Before I moved to a retirement community recently, I lived in the same house for 52 years, and the neighbors knew there were always children staying with me. Not too long ago, one of them told me they'd never known the kids were foster children. They'd thought I was just taking care of relatives - family member's children. There's no better compliment I could have gotten. Every child deserves that level of love and care. So when my neighbor said that, I thought to myself, You know what? I didn't do too bad... and Emma...I have to agree. I only wish I had gotten to know you! Emma's story was "as told to Robin Westen." It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
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| Emma Patterson - Mother to many, loved by all! What a wonderful woman!!! |
Thursday, December 5, 2024
So...How Do You...Or Did You...Treat Your Children? Story
It was an ordinary day. Reading my weekly "The Fishwrapper" publication which is a free publication that I pick up every week while visiting my local Stauffer's of Kissel Hill grocery store. The publication is printed by Little Mountain Printing. The story on the front of the publication was titled "My Busy Day". The front page story read... "Mommy, look!" cried my daughter Darla, pointing to a chicken hawk soaring through the air. "Uh huh," I murmured while driving, lost in thought about the tight schedule of my day. Disappointment filled her face. "What's the matter, sweetheart?" I asked, entirely dense. "Nothing," my seven-year-old said. The moment was gone. Near home, we slowed to search for the albino deer that comes out from behind the thick mass of trees in the early evening. She was nowhere to be seen. "Tonight she has to many things to do," I said. Dinner, baths, and phone calls filled the hours until bedtime. "Come on, Darla, time for bed!" She raced past me up the stairs. Tired, I kissed her on the cheek, said prayers, and tucked her in. "Mom, I forgot to give you something!" she said. My patience was gone. "Give it to me in the morning," I said, but she shook her head. "You won't have time in the morning!" she retorted. "I'll take time," I answered defensively. Sometimes, no matter how hard I tried, time flowed through my fingers like sand in an hourglass - never enough. Not enough for her, for my husband, and definitely not enough for me. She wasn't ready to give up yet. She wrinkled her freckled, little nose in anger and swiped away her chestnut-brown hair. "No, you won't! It will be just like today when I took you to look at the hawk. You didn't even listen to what I said." I was too weary to argue; she hit too close to the truth. "Good night!" I shut her door with a resounding thud. Later though, her gray-blue gaze filled my vision as I thought about how little time we really had until she was grown and gone. My husband asked, "Why so glum?" I told him. "Maybe she's not asleep yet. Why don't you check?" he said with all the authority of a parent in the right. I followed his advice, wishing it was my own idea. I cracked open her door, and the light from the window spilled over her sleeping form. In her hand, I could see the remains of a crumpled paper. Slowly I opened her palm to see what the item of our disagreement had been. Tears filled my eyes. She had torn into small pieces a big, red heart poem she had written, titled, "Why I Love My Mother." I carefully removed the tattered pieces. Once the pieces were put back into place, I read what she had written, Why I Love My Mother...Although you're busy, /and you work so hard, / you always take time to play. / I love you, Mommy / Because I am the biggest part of your busy day. The words were an arrow straight to the heart. At seven years old, she had the wisdom of Solomon. Ten minutes later I carried a tray to her room, with two cups of hot chocolate with marshmallow and two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. When I softly touched her smooth cheek, I could feel my heart burst with love. Her thick, dark lashes lay like fans against her eyelids as they fluttered, awakened from a dreamless sleep, and she looked at the tray. "What is that for?" she asked, confused by this late-night intrusion. "This is for you because you are the most important part of my busy day." She smiled and sleepily drank half her cup of chocolate. Then she drifted back to sleep, not really understanding how strongly I meant what I said. A real tearjerker of a story, but one that makes you really think how you treat and address your children! I'm 80 years old and it actually made me think how I treated my children years ago, and even today. Hopefully I listened to what they were telling me years ago. How about you? It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Wednesday, December 4, 2024
My Resignation! As Posted In "The Fishwrapper" Story
It was an ordinary day. Reading my latest edition of "The Fishwrapper." Love to read the 8 1/2" x 11" skinny newsletter that I pick up every week when my wife and I head to Stauffer's of Kissel Hill grocery store. Stories in the newsletter are designed with a religious theme to them and really get their message across to those that read them. My latest issue had a rather "fun" full-page, sort of poem that I found interesting as well as amusing. Thought you too might enjoy it. So .... read on....
Tuesday, December 3, 2024
Taking Dementia to Heart! Story
It was an ordinary day. Reading Dr. Mike Roizen's article titled "Taking Dementia To Heart." Interesting article which I have posted for you to also read. Hope you can get some information from the following.....
Seven million Americans are living with Alzheimer's disease and 10 million Americans age 65 and older have been told they have some form of dementia. Plus, mild cognitive impairment affects around 8 million folks - almost none of whom have been diagnosed. You want total steps to reverse your dementia risks - and a new scientific statement from the American Heart Association should help you do just that. It highlights three cardiovascular conditions directly linked to an increased risk for cognitive decline and dementia - heart failure, atrial fibrillation (A-fib), and coronary heart disease. Fortunately, you can prevent or delay all three of these heart conditions - protecting your brain at the same time. Eating a diet low in saturated fats, red and processed meats, added sugars and salt; quitting - or never starting - smoking; getting daily physical activity (if the doctor says OK); managing stress; maintaining a waist circumference that measures less than half you height; and having healthy sleep habits help reduce the risk for those three conditions. - The risk of heart failure can also be reduced by staying on prescribed statins, anti-hypertensives, and anti-inflammatories. - You can reduce your risk of A-fib by controlling high blood pressure, high LDL cholesterol and diabetes, and maintaining a healthy weight. - Coronary heart disease, caused by a buildup of arterial plaque, can be prevented or delayed if you follow all the heart-healthy suggestions already mentioned. For more info on how to maintain heart and brain health, read Dr. Mike Roizen's book "The Great Age Reboot" and "16 Natural Ways to Support Hearth Heath" on iHerb.com/blog. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
The "Professional Baseballs Aren't Just Any Baseballs" Story
It was an ordinary day. Reading another Jack Brubaker "The Scribbler" story that was posted in my local newspaper. Story was titled "Was source of baseball 'rubbing mud' known here?" Began with...Dale Good spotted an unusual article, "Soft matter mechanics of baseball's Rubbing Mud," in the Nov. 4 Lancaster newspaper. He wondered if there is any association between contemporary baseball mud and mud that Bainbridge scientist Samuel Stehman Haldeman discovered in New Jersey in 1839. Good emailed the authors of a University of Pennsylvania study that proved why Major League Baseball's mud, taken from a secret place in New Jersey, is the best substance to put on new baseballs to make them less slick and easier to grip. Good, a member of the Haldeman Mansion Preservation Society, has not heard anything from the Penn profs., so he is left wondering. Haldeman (1812-1880) was a naturalist, philologist and a sometime professor at Penn who lived in a home now being slowly restored in Bainbridge. He corresponded with many of the great scientists of his day, including Charles Darwin. In May 1839, Haldeman provided an analysis of marl, or mud, found in the "New Jersey greensand." It was deposited millions of years ago when the Garden State was under water. Haldeman described the mud as bluish-white on the surface, light chocolate when fractured, soft and easily broken. The surface was covered with grains of green sand. He published these findings in a brief note in the Journal of the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia. The rubbing mud that the Major Leagues used to allow their pitchers to get a grip on baseballs apparently has perfect proportions of clay and sand. It also comes from a secret place in New Jersey. "The mud spreads like face cream, but it grips like sandpaper," said a Penn geophysicist and co-author of the study. The stuff has been applied to baseballs since 1938. Since 2022, Major League Baseball has mandated that at least 156 balls get at least a 30-second rub with the mud within a three-hour period before each game. "This mud works as a superfine abrasive and takes the gloss coating off without doing any type of damage to the leather or laces," said the fellow who harvests the mud from an unknown location and sells it to the Major Leagues. Baseball officials have tried other substances without success. The Penn study shows why alternatives have struck out. And, so my explanation of how and why professional league baseballs are so expensive comes to an end. Have to go and watch another game on TV in a few minutes and see if I can spot one of these balls in use. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Monday, December 2, 2024
The "A New Book Tells How To Explore Safe Harbor Petroglyphs" Story
It was an ordinary day. Picked up my morning Sunday News and honed in on one of my favorite newspaper writers...Jack Brubaker...aka "The Scribbler." His story for this past Sunday was titled "Book tells how to explore Safe Harbor petroglyphs." His story began with.... Paul Nevin lives in a converted sawmill along a small tributary to the Susquehanna River at Accomac, York County, but he spent much of his free time about 15 miles downriver, just below Safe Harbor Dam. Nevin has meticulously examined distinctive carvings on rocks in the river below the dam. The carvings, called petroglyphs, were made by Indigenous people who were here before Europeans arrived. "The petroglyphs are an extraordinary culture resource," says the 68-year-old amateur archaeologist and specialist in restoring historic structures. "We need to protect them from future generations." As one way of protecting the carvings, Nevin has published "A Guide to the Safe Harbor Petroglyphs," a 62-page commentary on possible meanings of this "rock art," as well as an exhortation to waterborne visitors to protect the iconographic images. "When people become aware of the cultural significance, he explains, "they treat it with more respect." Informing more people about petroglyph rocks that were added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1978 is a relatively recent idea. Four decades ago, when Nevin began studying the carvings, many archaeologists dismissed the rocks as unworthy of serious study. They also believed that not publicizing the rocks would deter vandalism. Nevin has taken a different approach. People already know the rocks exist, he says. What they need to know is how special they are and how they should be treated by boaters. His guide tells visitors how to minimize damage to the petroglyphs by tying their boats correctly to the rocks and by walking on them in bare feet. "Rock art etiquette," you might call it. He suggests that he or another guide be employed to expedite visits to the rocks in a river that can be treacherous. The guidebook also tells readers what the rocks mean to Nevin and to the people who carved them, probably 500 to 1,000 years ago. He says images that appear to be birds, snakes, bears and other ceatures have larger implications when studied in the context of American Indian cultures and their environment. The two major petroglyph rocks that remain visible above water levels altered by the dam are Big and Little Indian rocks. They contain scores of carvings originally recorded in 1863. Nevin has documented four additional rocks nearby with dozens of additional petroglyphs. He believes all of the carvings were made by the people known as the Shenks Ferry Indians, who lived in this area before the Susquehannocks arrived. Whatever the petroglyphs may have meant to their makers, Nevin writes, "these are sacred images in a sacred place. Creating the petroglyphs was, in itself, likely a sacred activity." How can this sacred but exposed site be protected? There's a viewing scope on the Low Grade Trail's railroad trestle from which anyone can see activity on or near the rocks. With more guided tours going out to the rocks, more eyes are watching them. State law provides penalties for damaging an archaeological site. Describing how he feels about his essential role in preserving and explaining the petroglyphs, Nevin marvels, "How lucky I am to be able to do this." Nevin's guide includes color photos of the rocks and their petroglyphs, as well as maps showing their locations in the river. It sells for $14.95 at safeharborpetroglyphs.com and soon will be available at local museums and heritage centers. And...a big Thank-You to Mr. Jack Brubaker, aka ", for writing this story in my Sunday Newspaper. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
"My Resignation" Story
It was an ordinary day. Just sat down to read my free, weekly, "The Fishwrapper", which I find at my local "Stauffer's Of Kissel Hill" Supermarket every week when I go to find items that you just can't find at any other food market in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. "The Fishwrapper" is a full-color, 16-page, 8 1/2" x 11" publication on white paper with a religious theme to it that is filled with plenty of stories, photographs, cartoons, and...yes.. advertisements, that take about a half-hour to work your way through on a weekly basis. It is one of the main reasons I travel the mile to Stauffer's every week. One of today's treats, beside the delicious ham and cheese sandwiches and home-made cookies, was the story I found on page 6 of the November 26 issue. Story was titled "My Resignation" and read like this...
I am officially tendering my resignation as an adult. I have decided I would like to accept the responsibilities of an eight-year-old again.
I want to go to McDonald's and think that it's a four-star restaurant.
I want to sail sticks across a fresh mud puddle and make a sidewalk with rocks.
I want to think M&M's are better than money because you can eat them.
I want to run a lemonade stand with my friends on a hot summer day.
I want to return to a time when life was simple; when all you knew were colors, multiplication tables, and nursery rhymes, but that didn't bother you, because you didn't know what you didn't know, and you didn't care.
All you knew was to be happy, because you were blissfully unaware of all the things that should make you worried or upset.
I want to think the world is fair. That everyone is honest and good.
I want to believe that anything is possible. I want to be oblivious to the complexities of life, and be overly excited by the little things again.
I want to live "simple" again. I don't want my day to consist of computer crashes, mountains of paperwork, depressing news, how to survive when there are more days in the month than there is money in the bank, doctor bills, gossip, illness, and loss of loved ones.
I want to run and play with my pets all day.
I want my imagination to go on hundreds of trips and last forever.
So here is my checkbook and my car keys, my credit card bills and my bank statements. I am officially resigning from adulthood. And, if you want to discuss this further, you'll have to catch me first, because, "TAG! YOU'RE IT!"
It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Sunday, December 1, 2024
The "Was The Source Of Baseball "Rubbing Mud" Known In Lancaster and Nearby Philadelphia? Story
It was an ordinary day. Sunday, and my morning paper was standing against my front door, just as it always is on an early Sunday morning. Opened the "LOCAL" section and was greeted with an article by writer Jack Brubaker, aka "The Scribbler." Story was titled "Was source of baseball 'rubbing mud' known here?" Jack is my favorite Lancaster Newspaper writer whose stories always tend to bring life to his stories. I just knew I was going to enjoy his story about baseball and mud! His story began with..."Dale Good spotted an unusual article, "Soft matter mechanics of baseball's Rubbing Mud," in the Nov. 4 LNP. Jack went on to tell the story that I was waiting to read when I opened my front door this morning. Dale wondered if there is any association between contemporary baseball mud and mud that Bainbridge scientist Samuel Stehman Harman discovered in New Jersey in 1939. Good emailed the authors of a University of Pennsylvania study that proved why Major League Baseball's mud, taken from a secret place in New Jersey, is the best substance to put on new baseballs to make then less slick and easier to grip. Good, a member of the Haldeman Mansion Preservation Society, has not heard anything from the Penn professors, so he is left wondering. Haldeman was a naturalist, philologist and a sometime professor at Penn who lived in a home now being slowly restored in Bainbidge. He corresponded with many of the great scientists of his day, including Charles Darwin. In May of 1939, Haldeman provided an analysis of marl, or mud, found in the "New Jersey greensand." It was deposited millions of years ago when the Garden State was under water. Haldeman described the mud as bluish-white on the surface, light chocolate when fractured, soft and easily broken. The surface was covered with grains of green sand. He published the findings in a brie note on the Journal of the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia. The rubbing mud that the Major Leagues use to allow their pitchers to get a grip on baseballs apparently has perfect proportions of clay and sand. It also comes from New Jersey. A secret place in New Jersey! "The mud spreads like face cream, but it grips like sandpaper," said a Penn geophysicist and co-author of the study. The stuff has been applied to baseballs since 1938. Since 2022, Major League Baseball has mandated that at least a 30-second rub with the mud within a three-hour period before each game. "This mud works as a superfine abrasive and takes the gloss coating off without doing any type of damage to the leather or laces," said th fellow who harvests the mud from an unknown location and sells it to Major Leagues. Many years ago my oldest son pitched for the Villanova University's baseball team and told me about the special baseballs that their coach knew about and obtained that were so much easier to grip, thus could be thrown harder and with more of a curve to them. They certainly helped him when he pitched on days that we went to see him pitch! I'm sure it was well-known long before he arrived at Villanova! Baseball officials have tried other substances without success. The Penn study shows why alternatives have struck out!! So...there really is something to the story that the ball can be doctored to help the pitcher throw it with more curve and perhaps better velocity. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Saturday, November 30, 2024
The Farewell to Local "Keeper of Christmas" Story
It was an ordinary day. Reading about a fellow named Jim Morrison, known to generations as "the Keeper of Christmas" in his role as founder and former curator of the beloved national Christmas Center died October 13 of natural causes at Kadima Rehabilitation & Nursing Home in Lititz, PA, where he spent two years of his life, according to those closest to him. He was 85 years old. The National Christmas Center opened its doors in 1998 in a 20,000-square-foot building in Paradise Township, where it remained for the next 20 years. During that time thousands of people, including myself and my dear wife, made our way through the museum to marvel at the antique decorations from Christmasases past. The center now operates seasonally in Dauphin County near the county line. The center had been a lifelong vision for Morrison that developed as a child in New Jersey, when his mother drove him to Philadelphia the day after Thanksgiving to see the holiday-themed store displays. "Everybody flocked to see the start of Christmas," Morrison told Lancaster Newspaper in 2018. "My mother did so much to make Christmas great." In the days after Christmas, a young Morrison would roam neighborhood streets lined with discarded Christmas trees and plucked from them any ornaments he could find. "As a teenager, if there was snow on the ground on Christmas Eve, he'd put on skis, then take them off to walk up to the front doors of others in his neighborhood," recalled Katherine Miller, a Berks County woman who assisted Morrison at the center, "so when the kids woke up the ext morning, it would appear as though Santa had been up and down the street." Morrison''s Christmas collection grew through his years of serving in the U.S. Army. He was a model-maker, crafting items like a wooden gun case that held a pair of pistols the Texan Rangers gifted to President John F. Kennedy, and 250 sets of bookends that president Lyndon B. Johnson gave others as gifts. "He also made models of the terrain in Vietnam to help the military in planning whatever actions they were doing over there," Miller said. Morrison later ran a small company that restored historic houses in Wahington, D.C. Along the way he sold antique postcards, and one of his customers was the former Gotham Book Mart in New York Cty. The connection led to Morrison putting up a Christmas tree on the store's balcony decorated with antique ornaments that could be purchased by customers, with proceeds going to help the needy. He opened the Christmas Center in Lancaster. There was a reason behind the center's location, as the area has historical ties to Christmas. "The first documented Christmas tree in America was in Lancaster city in 1821." Morrison was quoted as saying to LNP. "It was the Germans that started the tree. Possibly Martin Luther by putting candles on the tree. So many things happen with immigration. They brought their traditions to Lancaster. They would wrap the tree in cotton to look like the new-fallen snow. All the references came from Lancaster and those trees. It's just a strong Christmas tradition in this area. And I wanted people to learn about that." For 20 years, Morrison estimated tens of thousands of people made their way through the museum each year to marvel at the antique decorations that took visitors on a journey through Christmas history; the center was featured in national magazines an on the Travel channel. Morrison and co-owner Muretagh closed the Christmas Center in January 7, 2018, largely because of their ages. About a year later, Morrison and Murtaugh sold the contents of the center to David Abel for an undisclosed price. Abel is the steward of Stone Gables Estate in West Donegal Township, where he led the reconstruction of the iconic Star Barn and surrounding outbuildings. He plans to put the Christmas collection in the reconstructed Belmont Barn, which was dismantled along Fruitville Pike in 2015 and is currently in storage. The center still operates each Christmas season in a leased warehouse in Dauphin County that's about 5 miles north of Stone Gables Estate. A celebration of life to remember Morrison, was be held at the Star Barn, 1 Hollinger Lane, West Donegal Township. Morrison will be buried in a private ceremony at a cemetery in this hometown of Haddonfield, New Jersey. Before his death, Morrison approved the engravings for his headstone, in descending order, will be his name, birth date, and the title by which he most enjoyed being called....SANTA! It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Friday, November 29, 2024
The "Giving Thanks For Friendsgiving" Story
It was an ordinary day. Across the United States, group chats are blowing up. Who's bringing dessert? A side dish? A caserole? The wine? More wine? The discourse isn't necessarily anchored to the fourth Thursday in November, and the people texting share neither DNA nor deep-rooted emotional baggage. Rather, such pressing questions revolve around an unofficial holiday nominally in the Thanksgiving orbit that's slowly formed its own customs and significance over the last decade or so to become a standalone celebration in its own right. The result, Friendsgiving, has become one of my favorite events on the calendar year. Sometimes traced to November 1994, when the TV show "Friends" aired its first Thanksgiving episode, the concept floated around for some time before the word Friendsgiving appeared in print circa 2007. The fledgling traditions received a boost four years later after Baileys Irish Cream use it in an ad campaign, and each November since, it has grown more popular, breaking through the American lexicon by the mid-2010s. But what if instead of thinking about Friendsgiving as a recent phenomenon, we consider it a welcome return to a time with our culture centered on friendship? In classical philosophy, friendship was considered to be the summer bonus, or highest good. That's because the ancient Greeks and Romans viewed the relationship as a glue that held civic life together, uniting private and public spheres. As Ariostotle once wrote: "Friendship or love is the bond which holds states together, and that legislators set more store by it than by justice; for concord is apparently akin to friendship, and it is concord that they especially seek to promote." America's founders also understood friendship in this light. "Inspired by an 'Aristotelian concept of friendship as collective tissue,' early Americans understood male friendships 'as crucial to the nation-building project and its creation of worthy republican citizens encouraging empathy between citizens in a society that no longer cohered through shared loyalty to a monarch,'" American literary scholar Michael Kalisch argues in The Politics of Male Friendship in Contemporary American Fiction. Marginalized communities in particular continued to advance older notions of friendship, recognizing the ways in which it provided a powerful alternate mode of intentional community and organizing. Indeed, Kalisch contends that while the republic's separation from Britain is often "framed as a refusal of 'paternal authority,' male friendship offered an alternative metaphor of civic association in the nascent independent nation." one that united it with France's cry across the ocean for liberté, égalité, fraternité. Both revolutions, Kalisch posits, were "galvanized by the egalitarian promise of friendship" - even though, as he points out, such a promise only extended to white men. But if ideas of friendship and love were long seen as interchangeable, friendship's decline in the American civic space coincided with the separation of these spheres. By the late 1800s, these new delineations between familia, romantic and platonic love resulted in friendship becoming "increasingly feminized, privatized, and removed from the public sphere of republican and democratic politics," observed Dartmouth gender and literary scholar Ivy Schweitzer in her book Perfecting Friendship. In the 20th century, friendship remained on society's periphery, Schweitzer continues, as "Western culture developed an obsession with individual selfhood and sexual desire." So dramatic was the drop off, she notes, that by the 1990s, the American literary critic Wayne C. Booth confessed, while reading about Aristotelian friendship, "to be puzzled by the modern neglect of what had been one of the major philosophical topics, the subject of thousands of books and tens of thousands of essays.'" But the understanding of friendship as a civic model wasn't abandoned wholesale during this period: Marginalized communities in particular continued to advance older notions of friendship, recognizing the ways in which it provided a powerful alternative mode of intentional community and organizing. In "Feminism for the Americas", UCLA historian Katherine M. Marino shows how friendship was embraced as a model of social democracy during the rise of a global movement for women's rights. Leaders like Panamanian feminist Clara Gonzalez, Marino writes, understood that friendship corresponded "to the real needs of modern life, which is essentially a life of relationships, of interdependence, of solidarity, of mutual aid, of social action and of love." The concept of the "chosen family," first articulated in 1991 by anthropologist Kath Weston in Families We Choose: Lesbians, Gays, Kinship, illuminated the ways that queer and transgender individuals, too, had pushed the notion of friendship to encompass deep, deliberate bonds that existed outside of legal or genetic ties. The rise of Friendsgiving from an ad hoc replacement for being far away from home on the holidays into a ritual all its own suggests we're seeing a larger, mainstream push to celebrate and honor these non-familial social relationships. And I hope its popularity is an indication of broader willingness to reconsider the role that friendship can play in our society. So, if you're participating in a Friendsgiving of your own this year, consider if you're advancing a model of friendship that the ancients might recognize. And maybe save a toast for Cicero and his treatise Laelius de Amicitia (How to Be a Friend), and cheers to the benevolent (mutual kindness), consensus (consensus), caritas (devotion), and fidelities (loyalty) that you're cultivating together. It was another extraordinary day the life of an ordinary guy.
