The "East Petersburg, The Town Founded By Daniel Wolf, Pioneer Settler" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Driving home from a visit to nearby Manheim, Pennsylvania.  As I approached the small town of East Petersburg I saw the sign that welcomed me to the town that was founded by the pioneer Daniel Wolf in 1800.  

Sign entering East Petersburg from the North.

The town is just a bit more than two city blocks long, but has quite a bit of history to it.  It was in the late 1940's, when I was a child, that East Petersburg had an epidemic of typhoid fever.  The two local physicians called for the water to be tested and State health authorities found it was contaminated due to wells that were too close to sewage sources.  It was determined that the town needed a new water system and to do so, the town needed to be incorporated.  The town was incorporated as a Borough on December 20, 1946.  It's first burgess, (Mayor) was Melvin Binkley and the first council president was Virgil Spencer.  Today, East Petersburg Borough is located about three miles northwest of the city of Lancaster and has a population of about 6,200.  

The sign and logo used for East Petersburg, Pennsylvania

Route 72 is the major road that passes through the center of the borough and along Route 72 is Roots Market which is both an open air market as well as having many indoor stands.  They traditionally have been open on Tuesdays and sell produce, baked goods, arts & crafts and other items.  It would be what many of you would call a Farmer's Market.  The borough is more than 70 years old now, but the community's roots date nearly to the time of the American Revolution.  If you search a bit, you may find the farmhouse near the eastern end of the borough as well as a nearby mill that were both built before the American Revolution.  The racial makeup of the borough is about 95% white, 1% African American, 1% Asian, 1% Pacific Islander, 1% Hispanic or Latino and the rest Native Americans.  Today the town is governed by a seven-person borough council and Mayor.  The Mayor is responsible for law enforcement and holds a non-voting membership in the council, but with tie-breaking and veto powers.  The first, and oldest, home in the town is the circa-1810 home of the town founder Daniel Wolf who once ran a dry goods and grocery store from his home on the southwest corner of Lemon and State Streets.  It was he who named the town Petersburg.  From the mid-1800s through 1899, the building at 1905 State Street was the Captain Lawrence Hotel and then later became a home with a butchering business in the rear.  Today the building is owned by the East Petersburg Historical Society and serves as the society's headquarters and houses a growing collection of East Petersburg artifacts that have been donated to the society.  Those artifacts include Haydn's Zug's old rocking chair and the old sign from Glatfelter's barber shop that read "I Need Your Head in My Business."

The Haydn' Zugs Restaurant on the "Square" in East Petersburg.
It was sold a few years ago and is not an office building.

The town was a friendly town and one day, many years ago, a woman disembarked at the Petersburg train station and asked for the nearest hotel.  Being that there was none, the station master directed her to Mrs. Hollinger's house.  That woman was a representative for the California Perfume Company which eventually became famous for its Avon Line.  The house, at the corner of State and Lemon, had a spacious porch which had a swing and welcomed everyone for visits.  It was two centuries after Daniel Wolf got his little town going along the Little Conestoga Creek that a Life Lion emergency helicopter staged a demonstration flight in the borough park.  Music blared while kids rode the carnival rides.  Fried-food scents ruled and dogs competed to see which one could most speedily lap up canine ice cream.  The firefighters rolled through town slinging Tootsie Rolls out of the windows of their trucks.  East Petersburg was marching on.  They sure knew how to have a great time at their annual festival.  One of those little, old towns in the United States that welcomed everyone to their town with open arms, a bit of food and a chair to sit in for a few hours of conversation.  Try it some day if you are in the community known as East Petersburg, Pennsylvania.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "Don't Tell Me About My Driving" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Father's Day 2021 and I had just opened my Father's Day card from my beautiful wife, Carol.  I knew she was watching me as I read the cover of the card which said "I'M NOT LOST!"

and below it read...NARRATOR: HE WAS, IN FACT, LOST.  Pretty funny since it just happens to be true!  I opened the card to the inside, as my wife smiled, and I read...

HAPPY 50TH FATHER'S DAY TO A MAN WHO DOESN'T NEED A GPS TELLING HIM WHERE TO GO AND HOW TO GET THERE BECAUSE HE'S BEEN DRIVING LONGER THAN YOU'VE BEEN ALIVE AND KNOWS EXACTLY WHERE THE HELL HE'S GOING.  Signed...Love You! Carol

Took some time before we both had stopped laughing, but I know it's as true as can be, since I have an awful time driving to locations that I have never been to before.   And, I just can't get that damn unit in my dashboard to tell me where I should be driving.  Same goes for my iPhone which never seems to tell me the right directions as well.  One time last year I actually put the directions in my phone and car unit and found they were taking me to the same place, but it two different directions.  Here of late, my sweet daughter-in-law would print out the directions to my grandson's baseball games and give them to me so I can follow her directions.  Always seems to get me there, but why can't I do that myself?  A few days ago Carol and I went to one of my grandson's baseball games at a location I had never visited before.  I tried to put the address into my car, but after about a half hour of driving to find a place 20 minutes away, Carol called our daughter-in-law to ask for help.  She was able to find an image of my car on her phone...how she ever did that is beyond me...and actually pretty scary that someone can do that...and told us which way to turn at every intersection we came upon.  We made it to the game just in time to see the first pitch.  Now, all this goes back a few years to when I was better at getting places.  We had made reservations for a motel near the Baltimore Airport for staying the night before our trip to the Caribbean so we wouldn't be exhausted from getting up to early to drive to the airport in the morning.  I placed the directions in my car unit and everything worked perfect.   I even stored my home address so when we returned to the motel, we could just punch in the word "Home" and it gave us directions to our home in Lancaster, Pennsylvania.  Worked perfect.  Two years later we made another trip to the Caribbean and used the same directions to the Motel. Upon return we pulled up our home address and began using the saved directions once again.  I thought it didn't look the same as two years before as I began to drive...and boy was I right.  A hour later we saw the sign telling us how far we were away from New York.  Did some of my own guessing and before long we were in Havre deGrace, Maryland.  Hey...I at least knew my way home from there!  I'm sure I'm not the only one that has problems with directions.  I hope!  But, the card my wife had just given me was right on!  I've been driving for over 60 years and drove cars that didn't even have a radio in them let alone a GPS system.  Pretty sure no one knew what GPS stood for back then.  When visitors arrived on Father's Day to greet me, they looked at the card, which Carol just happened to have handed to them, and began to laugh.  One such visitor asked her if she had that made special, since it was SO TRUE!  Nah...there are probably a dozen or so people who shopped at Walmart and bought the same card and are having the best time sharing it with their family.  Will I ever change?  What'd you just say?  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.  

PS - By the way, when we returned home from the baseball game we followed someone else and found the location was right down the street from another ball field that I have visited many times in the past.  If I had only known... 

The "Nothing's Gonna Stop Her Now!" Story

 It was an ordinary day.  Reading a story in the Lititz Record Express about a young girl by the name of Aliyah.  Aliyah is a student at the Warwick Middle School in nearby Lititz, Pennsylvania.  She is 15 years old and in 8th grade and has lived a life that most of us could never have survived.  As a baby she was born over two months early and was suffering from severe medical issues.  To survive, she was in need of several organ transplants.  At the age of 11 months she underwent surgery at Boston Children's Hospital and received a new liver, small intestine, pancreas and a portion of her stomach.  Luckily for Aliyah, her mother was a nurse and was able to care for her daughter when she returned home after her surgeries.  Aliyah is the second of four children, having an older and two younger brothers.  The more I read her story in the Lititz newspaper, the more I began to admire this young girl who has experienced more in her lifetime than myself and my entire family have ever had to go through.  The photograph that was shown in the newspaper is of a young girl who has a big smile on her face.  Only someone who has survived her ordeal could have a smile that big spred across her face.  All I could think of while looking her in the eye was...Bravo!  The story told that with all her surgeries and medications to fight organ rejection, Aliyah's immune system is compromised.  She has many medical issues such as lung and breathing issues.  Therefore, being exposed to COVID-19 must be avoided.  She tells that it has been hard being at home instead of at school with her classmates since she is a very social person.  One of her best ways to survive her home schooling is through music.  Her Middle School teacher and Aevidum Club (Aevidum means "I've got your back) advisor, Elton Sturges discovered her musical talent and encouraged her to write and sing her own songs.  Seems that Aliyah is an accomplished piano, ukulele and guitar player who has a beautiful soprano voice.  She loves to perform songs of hope, accompanying herself on ukulele or guitar.  On one video she made she recorded her voice several times, creating her own harmony.  She then posts her videos on her Facebook page known as "Hope Notes."  Some of her songs examine feelings of fear and loneliness while expressing her feelings she shares with friends.  As you can imagine, Aliyah is no stranger to hospitals and reaches out to patients by delivering cards to those in need.  Her first song she wrote was titled "By Your Side" which was inspired by Bruno Mars and tells those listening that she will be there to comfort them.  Her second song was "Help Me Up," in which she cries out to God asking him to help her stay on the right path.  Another song she wrote told about dealing with change and weathering the storm.  It came about due to the change she went through when she went from a hospital in Boston to a hospital in Pittsburgh for followup care.  The song was titled "Broken Tree."  "If You Say" was yet another song that helped her cope with transitioning  from one hospital to a new health care team. Her 14th song was titled "Battle Cry" which she wrote when her older sister tested positive for COVID-19.  She expressed her fear and worry, asking God for his help during a tough time in her life.  She is now trying to educate others about the importance of organ donations, telling how they saved her life.  She is not able to be vaccinated due to her compromised immunity, but her family members have all received their vaccinations.  

Miss Aliyah Dieffenbach

She looks forward to being able to return to school next year and working towards a career in music therapy as well as physical therapy.  To date, she has written more than 20 songs which are all self-accompanied.  Aliyah is a very determined young woman who has set her goals high and will most certainly reach them with her determination and her love of God.  If only I could be like her!  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "The Traits You Allegedly Inherited From Your Mom & Dad" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Just finished reading about the five traits that I didn't know I inherited from my mother as well as the four traits I inherited from my dad.  I just assumed that I inherited my bald head from my dad and my skinny structure from my mom,  but is that the case?  Seems that the science of genetic inheritance is complicated, much more than we might suspect.  It's almost impossible to figure out from whom you inherited that high IQ or from whom you inherited the curse of sneezing in bright sunlight.  Our traits are influenced by many different genes and you inherit some from each parent.  Then, there are traits that people often assume are inherited, but actually aren't.  So, I'll try and give you a bit of information based on the readings I have done in the past.  First, we probably got most of our intelligence from our mother.  You probably assumed your intelligence came from both parents, but the genes that determine intelligence are located in chromosome X which women have two of and men only one.  About 25 years ago research was done when over 12,000 people were interviewed ranging in age from 14 to 22.  After accounting for the child's IQ, race, education and socio-economic status, the best predictor for intelligence was the mother's IQ.  In most cases, moms play the primary caregiver role and is the architect of their child's environment during the period of critical brain development.  But, scientists estimate that only 40% to 60% of intelligence is hereditary, with environmental factors making up the rest, plus older dads tend to have smarter sons for this reason.  So, just how do you inherit traits?  There are three ways.  First is through a dominate gene; second is through a recessive gene and lastly, there are X-linked traits which are found only on the X chromosome that is passed on to you by your mother.  There are two types of fat in your body: Good brown fat which increases your metabolism and helps you keep a healthy weight and bad white fat that can cause obesity and disease if you have too much of it.  Everyone has some of each, but how much brown fat you have is inherited from your mom.  But, genetics aren't the only thing that controls your weight; lifestyle choices play a much bigger part.  If you mother has low levels of the brain chemical known as serotonin, you are more likely to develop attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder later in life.  The genes passed from mother to child impact serotonin production that influences your ability to focus.  When puberty arrives, with acne, cracking voices, getting your period, etc., both parents' genetics play an equal part in when it will arrive.  A gene mutation inherited from either parent can lead to premature puberty and you will have to deal with all that stuff earlier in life.  How well you age is determined by the accumulation of damage to your mitochondrial DNA (mtDNA) which are inherited from your mother.   The part of your brain known as the corticolimbic system controls emotional regulation and plays a role in mood disorders like depression, comes more from the mother's side that the father's side.  As far as the gender of your child, a man with many brothers is more likely to have sons, while a man with many sisters is more likely to have daughters.  It is well known that if your family has a history of Alzheimer's disease, it increases the risk of you developing the illness which comes from your mother.  Alzheimer's is the most common case of dementia later in life so it's good to know your mother's history so you can start taking steps to protect your brain health as soon as possible.  A woman's fertility may be impacted by a gene she inherited from her father.  I was unable to get anymore information on this subject.  As far as your hairline, it is said that for men...hair loss is due to inheriting the trait from his mother, but that has been found to be untrue with it being inherited from both parents.  So, there you have the science of genetic inheritance in a nutshell.  I'm sure I missed something which I probably inherited from my mother...since it's said we inherit more from our mom that from our dad.   But, my mom seemed to have things under control most times in my household.  And, I'm sure if I had read a different story written by a different person, I may have gotten an entirely different story on inheriting genes from your parents.  So, take what you just read with a grain of salt, as long as you don't eat too much of the salt, since I'm sure it has something to do with how your mom passed along all that salt to you in your evening meal.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.  

The "Happy Juneteenth Day" Story

 It was an ordinary day.  Oh...and a Happy Juneteenth to you!  I was watching when President Joe Biden signed the bill this past Thursday that set aside Juneteenth, or June 19th, as a Federal holiday.

 I'm sure the mailmen, trash men, etc are all happy they will have another day off during the year.  It would be nice if it were a paid holiday, but at least they should have the day off.  The reason for the holiday dates back to 1863 when the Emancipation Proclamation freed the slaves in the southern states.  Seems it wasn't enforced until after the end of the Civil War in 1865.  I read the story of Laura Smalley, a freed black woman who worked on a plantation near Bellville, Texas.  Seems her master had gone to fight in the civil War and came home without telling his slaves what had happened.  Never told them that they were now free.  She said they continued to be slaves until six months later when it was found out they were free.  Date it happened was June 19th.  She said, "That's why, you know, we celebrate that day."  It was on June 19th that Union Major General Gordon Granger and his troops arrived at Galveston, Texas with the news that the war had ended and that the enslaved were now free.  That was more than two months after Confederate General Robert E. Lee's surrender to Union General Ulysses S. Grant in Virginia.  Granger delivered General Order No. 3 which said: "The people of Texas are informed that, in accordance with a proclamation from the Executive of the United States, all slaves are free.  This involves an absolute equality of personal rights and rights of property between former masters and slaves, and the connection heretofore existing between them becomes that between employer and hired labor."  It wasn't until the following year that the now-free people began to celebrate Juneteenth in Galveston.  It's observance has continued around the United States as well as the world ever since.  Concerts, parades and readings of the Emancipation Proclamation are events that have become commonplace and will continue with the new National Holiday.  So, exactly what does Juneteenth mean.  The blending of the words June and nineteenth is meant to be much the same as Independence Day or Freedom Day.  A majority of the United States had already recognized the day and was a paid holiday for Texas state employees, but will now be a declared National Holiday with the signing of the bill by President Biden.  It was in 1996 that the first legislation to recognize Juneteenth Independence Day was introduced in the U.S. House of Representatives.  The following year Congress recognized the day through Senate Joint Resolution 11 and House Joint Resolution 56.  In 2013 the U.S. Senate passed Senate Resolution 175, acknowledging Lula Briggs Galloway (late president of the National Juneteenth Lineage), who successfully worked to bring national recognition to Juneteenth Independence Day and the continued leadership the National Juneteenth Observation Foundation.  Then in June of 2019, Pennsylvania Governor Tom Wolf recognized Juneteenth as a holiday in the state where I live.  

Pennsylvania Governor Tom Wolf signing the bill.

In 2020 state governors of Virginia, New York and New Jersey signed executive orders recognizing Juneteenth as a paid day of leave for state employees.  In 2021, the governor of Oregon also signed an executive order as the other states had done the year before.  Activists had long been pushing Congress to recognize Juneteenth.  It is finally a National Holiday and joins New Year's Day, Independence Day, Veterans Day, and Christmas Day as National Holidays.  Juneteenth will coincide with Father's Day in 2022, 2033, 2039, 2044 and 2050.  Since the 1980s and 1990s the holiday has been more widely celebrated among African-American communities, but now will be a National Holiday for all to celebrate.  Now, the holiday that is considered the "longest-running African-American holiday, and has been called America's second Independence Day" will now be a National Holiday as it should have been years ago.  I hope you can enjoy your new holiday today with celebrations and remembrances of why it has become a new National Holiday.  It really should have happened years and years ago.  Happy Juneteenth Day!  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The Juneteenth Day Flag

The "Former Students Pop Up In Unusual Places" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Making a visit to Lancaster General Health Physicians in Lancaster, Pennsylvania for a few tests needed so my doctor can evaluate why I am having back pains once again.  Over the past several years I have had four back surgeries and have had several metal rods place in my back to help alleviate my lower back pain.  In the past year I have begun to lose feeling in my left leg and foot which is now beginning to travel to my right foot.  In order to evaluate my problem my doctor recommended a "BONE SPECT INJ", an "X-Ray" and a "BONE SPECT SCAN".  Evidently they are all different so I needed three scheduled appointments which I was given for one morning.  Soon found out they are fancy names for simple procedures.  I arrived at the LGH Suburban Pavilion at 9:30 AM for my 9:45 AM appointment.  Masks are required and as I had my temperature taken inside the front door, the nurse told me she liked my Philadelphia Phillies mask.  See gave me directions to my destination and by 9:40 I was sitting in a chair with a needle in my arm having blood drawn.  Evidently that was my first appointment or "BONE SPECT INJ."  I was then directed down the hall to my next destination for my 10:00 AM appointment.  Slightly before 10:00 AM I was ushered into a room, given a gown and told to remove my clothes and place the gown on me.  I was ushered into another lab where I had a few X-rays taken from different positions and given an injection needed for my next procedure.  Got dressed and headed out the door to my car.  My final appointment wasn't until 12:45 PM at the same location.  Went home and watched "The Price Is Right," grabbed a sandwich for lunch and hopped back in the car to go back to the LGH Suburban Pavilion for my 12:45 PM appointment.  Does any of this sound familiar to you?  Have you had to do much the same thing in the recent past?  Well, I entered the building and was greeted by the same young woman who took my temperature in the morning.  She looked at me and smiled, saying, "You were here earlier today, weren't you?"  "How did you remember that with the hundreds of people going in and out," I said to her.  "Because I loved your Phillies mask and it was the only one like it!  You can head back to where you were this morning," she said without checking my temperature once again.  I reported to the main desk and after seeing my name, I was ushered to a waiting area where I took a seat.  Wasn't more than 5 minutes before a gentleman came to get me for my final test which I found out was an MRI.  The fellow looked at the paper in his hand and said, "Mr. Woods, you can follow me."  We walked through a series of doors and he finally said, "Do you remember me?"  "Yes I do...you gave me the same test a few years ago, didn't you?"  He responded "I may have, but that's not what I meant.  I had you as a teacher at Manheim Township High School.  I think it was back in the late 1960s!"  I studied his face, the best I could with his mask in place, and finally had to ask him his name.  "I'm Bill Kushubar."  Aha, I did remember the name, but that was a long time ago and even if he did do a test for me a few years ago, I still  would have had trouble recognizing him with his blue surgical mask covering most of his face. We spent the next half hour reminiscing as well as him giving me the MRI.  Talked about other students whom he remembered that I had in class and then we talked about the unit that I was laying inside making all these clicking noises as it revolved about my body.  Told me the room cost about half a million to construct with the solid concrete walls and ceiling that have lead panels on them to absorb the radiation the machine emits.  Then he told me the machine itself cost about the same as the room.  He has worked there for quite a few years and I questioned him about how much radiation he gets from doing his job.  He told me very little since he in enclosed in a room of concrete and lead with a window made to reflect the radiation.  He wears a badge that is checked frequently and he said it never was close to the danger point due to the construction of the building.  He said I got more today than he does in an entire year.  The machine took a 3-D image of my body from slightly below the waist to my upper back.  The results will go to my surgeon I had do the past two operations so he can see if something shifted in my back which would cause the current pain.  If not, then I will be the next candidate for the Spinal Cord Stimulator which is a device that is imbedded in my lower back which sends impulses to interrupt the chronic pain before it reaches my brain and caused pain.  Now that is another story which I may have to share with you in the near future.  As for Bill...he told me he is now 65 and I looked at him and said, "You know how old that makes me feel?"  Life goes on... and I am hoping it will soon be pain-free for me once again.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "I Never Had The Chance To Know This Gentleman...But, Wish I Had" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Reading one of my favorite Facebook pages known as "The Lancastrian - 7 Generations Of Trust - 1749".  No matter whenever I open the page, I am amazed at the amount of information I find on the screen in front of me.  Stories galore telling about every aspect of Lancaster, Pennsylvania life.  I have written a few stories based on information I accumulated on the Facebook page, but the story I am posting today is one of many of the stories that Mr. John Earl Hambright has written and posted on "The Lancastrian."

He is one fantastic writer and I felt compelled to try and summarize his story, but that wouldn't do it justice...so I have re-posted it as he has written and posted it on May 15, 2021 at 7:06 AM.  John evidently was a resident of Lancaster for many years, based on his many stories he writes, but now resides in Newton, Massachusetts.  John's story today is titled "LANCASTER'S BEAUTIFUL BRIGHT GOLDEN DAY" and is a story I thought you might enjoy.  I never had the honor of knowing John, but we are close in age and happened to live close to each other while growing up.  He lived in the north end of Lancaster, near my home on the last block of North Queen Street...perhaps "a stone's throw away" as the saying goes!  I hope you enjoy reading his story which is written by a remarkable writer.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.  Please, Read on....

 "LANCASTER'S BEAUTIFUL BRIGHT GOLDEN DAY"

Thousands of lusty British voices join in song routinely at a U. K. football club. Reverently, in a stately cadence, they sing: "When you walk through a storm, hold your head up high and don't be afraid of the dark." 

Rodgers and Hammerstein's "You'll Never Walk Alone,' is the official anthem of LIverpool Football Nation. And most of you reading this can probably recite its next line:

"At the end of the storm is a golden sky."

Oscar Hammerstein penned those words on his Pennsylvania farm in the darkest days of World War Two. CAROUSEL had its Broadway opening on the night of April 19, 1945. Only one week before, our country had lost the President who led us successfully worldwide in the fight against fascist dictatorships.

Franklin Delano Roosevelt died on April 12, 1945.  In the wake of FDR's death, the uplifting assurance --"You Never Walk Alone" -- could not have been more timely.

This weekend in May, 2021, many American citizens have the beautiful feeling they're at a similar turning-point in our history. The darkness of our long isolation is melting away, we're told. Clouds are lifting. A new season draws us back to our blessed community.

It might as well be spring.

Every spring for years Oscar Hammerstein rode over from his home outside Doylestown, Pennsylvania, and enjoyed casting an appraising eye on the beautiful fields and farmyards of Lancaster County. He knew what he was looking for.

Hammerstein took a close interest in the black Angus cattle raised at his Highland Farm. Pondering them one morning from his study window in the summer of 1942, he had been moved to write down in his working notebook: "All the cattle are standing like statues, All the cattle are standing like statues."

Those statuesque critters, Hammerstein's steers, were purchased regularly at the Union Stock Yards in Lancaster. We Lancastrians took great pride in calling the place "the largest stockyards east of Chicago."

I grew up just six blocks away from the cows, horses, hogs, and sheep in our fair city's Sixth Ward. On warm spring nights, with the window open, one could hear the bawling adolescents being unloaded from the Chicago train, bound for summer fattening on farms throughout the Pennsylvania Dutch farm country. 

It's easy to imagine Oscar Hammerstein, fresh from CAROUSEL's Broadway opening night, riding over from his Bucks County farm to buy cattle, enjoying his success and reveling in the chicks and ducks and geese of a Keystone State springtime. 

Spring in that historic year of 1945 gifted me in Lancaster with one of my earliest memories. And it was not the one my father hoped I would keep. 

Dad had wanted me to remember forever what he called "the night The War ended" in 1945. I was only four and a half but to impress the epochal event on my memory, he picked me up, put me on his shoulder and carried me up and over North Duke Street to join the crowds packing Lancaster's central Penn Square.

It was a grand night for singing. But I remember nothing of that evening, it grieves me to say. 

What I do recall as the first memory of my life is quite another moment. And it involves not crowds but only one other person. 

A lady. 

On a gorgeous May morning that year, I was playing all alone in the back yard at 227 East New Street.  Hazy sunlight got caught in the thick branches of our monumental pear tree and shattered into a hundred pieces to cast me into shadows in my sandbox below. 

You've probably heard how people made do during World War Two. What I call my sandbox was an old wooden packing crate which had once freighted my mother's things from North Carolina when she married my father five springs earlier in April of 1940.

Sand spilled from a dozen cracks in the battered box, and the wood was full of splinters. I'd get them in my hand if I got distracted by anything. Like a robin popping up beside me on the wire fence between us and the Hoovers's yard next door. 

Or Miss Hoover herself.

That lady now suddenly burst from her house this bright golden morning. She bucked open her back screen door with her gigantic wash basket. The door squealed on its rusty spring for an instant and then banged loudly shut as she descended her back steps.

Miss Martha Hoover, quite tall and with a queenly air, strode down her back walk and placed the wicker basket on the ground. She took a cloth from her apron belt and passed it rapidly over the clothes line strung between the two crosstrees, both of them circled round and round by colorful strings of morning glories in full bloom. 

Miss Hoover rarely spoke. She normally kept folks at bay with a frosty quiet and, though she was capable of a sweet shy smile, certain sharp glances she sometimes shot my way could stop me immediately from any random mischief I might have in mind.

Like reaching through the fence to spill sand on her petunias.  

My mother said Miss Hoover had every reason to be angry with the world. She was an attractive woman whose many siblings -- ten had grown up together on a farm out back of Strasburg -- saddled her with an irksome burden. She was sole caretaker for a bachelor brother whom neighbors alternated between humoring and hectoring because testy Zeke was said to be not quite right in the head.

On this bright morning, though, Zeke Hoover was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he was at work down at Eshelman Feed in the first block of West Walnut where he swept up the loading platform across from the Northern Market. 

Miss Hoover must have thought she was completely alone. this sunny morning. Though I in my sandbox was not six feet away from her, I'm sure she didn't see me in the shade of our pear tree. Perhaps that's why she took it upon herself to perform a stunning feat -- most unlike a woman of her years and dignity.

As she moved between the wash basket and the clothes line, grabbing pins from her apron pocket and pinning them to the rope, the lady began to sing.

I knew the song. We heard it all the time on the radio those years. Bing Crosby recorded it. So did Frank Sinatra. But our neighbor lady sang it -- lightly, trillingly -- as beautifully as I'd ever it heard sung. 

"Oh, what a beautiful morning. Oh, what a beautiful day. I've got a beautiful feeling. Everything's going my way."

Then she sang it again as she pinned up her last pieces and went in with the empty basket to her house. 

I sat in the sandbox completely spellbound. Did I get splinters?  

Perhaps what I got was the longest lasting memory of my life. 

Oscar Hammerstein -- the man who wrote the words Miss Hoover was singing to a beautiful Pennsylvania morning -- might well have been at that very moment not six blocks away from us at the Lancaster Stock Yards.

His biographers say Oscar had never been to Oklahoma when he came up with "Oh, What a Beautiful Morning" to start off his first Broadway show with Richard Rodgers. Perhaps that's the reason some Lancastrians have suggested that when he wrote OKLAHOMA!'s opening line -- "There's a bright golden haze on the meadow, there's a bright golden haze on the meadow.…" -- he wasn't thinking of the Sooner State far, far away.

He was inspired by Pennsylvania. He was describing our own fertile fields and farms in Lancaster County.

On a bright golden beautiful day.

The "Writing in Cursive...A Lost Art" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Looking through my wife's Mother's Day greeting cards she had received this year before we pitched them in the trash can.  She had a variety of cards from our three children, myself and one from our grandson, Caden.  I read each one, one more time, but when I came to Caden's card I noticed something different.  He had placed his name on the bottom of the card by printing it; not in cursive!  I asked my wife  if she noticed that he had printed his name instead of writing it.  Yes, she had noticed it also.  Later on Mother's Day, after all our visitors had left to go home, I began reading the Sunday newspaper that had sat on the couch, neglected due to having to help prepare a meal for Mother's Day.  I opened to a section that featured stories by local high school students when all of a sudden one of the headlines struck me; "Cursive must be taught in schools."  So that's what I had noticed about Caden's card he had given to his grandmother.  He had printed his name instead of writing it.  Why would he do that?, I thought.  Carol and I came to the conclusion that he was never taught how to write in cursive!  A little over 4 years ago I wrote about people who don't know how to write in cursive, but I now know the answer.  Most public schools in the United States no longer require cursive to be taught in school.  The state of Pennsylvania, where I live, as well as the neighboring state of New Jersey removed the cursive mandate from their elementary curricula over eleven years ago.  And...that is the reason Caden doesn't know how to write his name in cursive.  My guess is that there will be a time in his life when he has to sign some sort of official document and will not be able to do so.  Or...maybe his phone and computer will not work and he won't be able to communicate.  

Not because he doesn't want to, but because he doesn't know how to write in cursive.  The story in the newspaper today was written by Syanna Duval, a 10th grader at nearby Garden Spot High School, who writes that some people might argue that teaching cursive is a waste of time or that it's old-fashioned.  She tells that she struggles many times when trying to read original historical texts or letters written in cursive.  She goes on to tell her readers that some people thing that cursive is a waste of time or too old-fashioned and outdated.  She believes it is a teacher's job to arrange their lessons in such a way that they can cover everything that's required in the curriculum and there should be a mandate that cursive is taught in school.  Do you remember learning cursive when you were in school?  If you graduated before the year 2000 you probably were taught cursive.  But, since it has been removed from elementary schoolrooms about 10 years ago, you probably write everything by printing it.  Professor Steven Graham, educator at Arizona State University, pointed out that some states were cursive is mandated require only 45 minutes per week.  Now, what elementary school child can learn anything in 45 minutes a week.  Then there are those that say students don't need to learn cursive since society doesn't require you write anything by hand anymore.  That's what a computer or phone is for!  And...a computer or phone prints letters.  Could be that if they returned cursive to the elementary curriculum, more students would see no need to be staring at a screen all day long as they have to do today.  Experts seem to agree that young students need to engage with real texts and items to manipulate.  

Learning you uppercase letters

We need to be writing with our hands, not just mindlessly clicking keystrokes on a computer. Syanna believes it is every educator's goal to equip their students with valuable skills that will benefit them in school and in life.....regardless of the hassle, headache or time commitment needed to get there.  She ends her story with..."Even if some educators do not think that cursive is particularly necessary or not applicable anymore, then maybe they can just think of it as equipping their kids with another life skill that modern students can carry in their educational toolbox.  BRAVO Syanna Duval!  I too feel it is the teacher's and school district's job to teach cursive writing so generations in the future don't have to rely on printing something rather than writing it in cursive.  And, a big Thank You to my grandson for making it necessary to write my story today telling of the need for all students to learn cursive writing.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.  PS - I only wish I could have written this story in cursive instead of printing it.  Maybe something computer companies can strive to do for the future.  Wouldn't that be interesting?

Go ahead...give it a try!

The "A Man With A Conscience" Story

 It was an ordinary day.  Reading about a fellow who lives in San Francisco who recently returned a Bob Dylan album that he had borrowed from a library in Ohio 48 years ago!  Guy by the name of Howard Simon who had borrowed the album from his University Heights Middle School library in 1973.  He checked it out when he was in eighth grade and finally found it between two other Dylan albums that are now in his personal vinyl collection.

Self Portrait is the tenth studio album by American singer-songwriter Bob Dylan. released on June 8, 1970, by Columbia Records.   Photograph of the album cover is above.

I can imagine how he must have felt when he was probably sorting through his record collection and he came upon this particular album.  His guilt evidently took over and he sent a letter, along with a monetary amount, to the library telling what had happened.  He is much like me in that he is a recent retiree who is trying to stay busy and decided it was time to sort through various collections to see what could be done with them.  I can imagine the chill that must have run up and down his spine when he came upon the album.  He packaged it and sent it with a note that read, "As a recent retiree, I am taking the opportunity to turn my attention to some of the many vignettes of life that by dint of career and family have been neglected these many years.  I am returning with this letter an overdue item by my count, approximately 17,460 days overdue as of this writing.  The album cover is a little battered after traveling with me from University Heights to San Francisco with various stops in between." The library said that the records remained in "great shape."  Mr. Simon also sent the library a $175 replacement fee for "Self Portrait" along with an album he recorded, "Western Reserve," for possible inclusion in the library's collection.  I'm not quite sure why he chose the amount he did, but perhaps that is what the current value of the album is at this time in history.  A paragraph from the article I read in the newspaper said that the library bore no hard feelings, or sense that Mr. Simon wasted their precious time, essentially telling him in the press release..."don't think twice; it's all right."  They also said that the funny thing about this is that they don't charge overdue fines anymore.  As long as they get them back, they see no need to penalize people.  The library's manager, Sara Phillips, said, "We're grateful that Mr. Simon returned the record.  I'd say we can not call it even."  Have you ever done something like this in your life.  A few years ago I was cleaning out my office drawers and found a key I had borrowed from the girl we rent from on the island of St. Martin.  I had every intention to return it to her before we left the island that year, but I somehow forgot to do so.  Never heard from her or never thought about it until I found it a few months ago.  I sent an immediate email to her and she returned the email saying she had forgotten she had given the key to me.  Told me to bring it with me when we arrive the next time in St. Martin.  I recently made a small stained glass window to take with us to give to her for not returning the key she had given to me.  It happens to just about all of us from time to time.  If it were you, would you just forget about it...or would you do as Mr. Simon did and send a note of apology with a check to cover the time he had the album.  Each of us has different values which we more than likely learned as a child.  Some wouldn't see any problem in just keeping the album while others would feel so guilty they would do what Mr. Simon did.  As they say...to each their own!  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "Big Wheel Keeps On Turning, Proud Mary Keeps On Burning" Story

 It was an ordinary day.  It was mid-May, 50 years ago, school was out and I was listening to the radio in my car on the way home from a hard day of teaching school at good old Manheim Township High School where I had gone to school as a student and also taught Graphic Arts and Photography.  Oh. how the memories seem to flood my mind...and disappear as fast as they entered.  I was listening to my car radio as I headed in the Lititz Pike to my home in the Grandview Heights Section of the township.  Naturally had the radio tuned in to the local radio station who was playing my favorite songs as they always did in the afternoon.  How many of you remember listening to the radio and catching the songs of 1971 such as: "Proud Mary", "It's too late" and "Ain't no sunshine"?  I look back to the years when Rock 'n Roll was the genre of the times.  As you can see by now...my story today is geared to my friends who were born in the mid 1950s to the 1970s and who had a love of Rock 'n Roll in their blood.  The year was 1971 and love, sex and rock 'n roll were the stories behind the memory-making music we listened to 50 years ago.  The greatest songs of 1971 started the new decade with fresh attitudes that made you just have to memorize the lyrics and sing along no matter if you had a good voice or not.  Hey, for me...I was in the car by myself and no one could stop me from singing along no matter if I remembered all the words or not and if I sang bass to a song that was by Tina Turner.  Come on...you heard of Tina Turner didn't you?  It was she and Ike that sang "Proud Mary" on the radio that day in May as I headed home.  But, did you know that it was Creedence Clearwater Revival that had made the song a hit two years earlier.  Then along came Ike who didn't like their version and changed the arrangement starting it "nice and easy" before making it "nice and rough," as Tina would later note.  Tina used the song for years, keeping it in her final tour in 2009.  Perhaps my favorite song of the year was "Take Me Home, Country Roads." sung by John Denver.  My wife Carol and I had the chance to see John in concert at the Hershey Ice Rink in Hershey, Pennsylvania in 1971 when he sang all our favorites.  Seems that a married couple, Bill Danoff and Taffy Nivert, performed the song which was first about Maryland.  They opened a concert one time for John and sang the song.  After the show, John added his own rendition to the tune, and the result made him a star with the song going to No. 2 and West Virginia making it their state song.  Being that my wife was a fan of The Beatles, we both enjoyed John Lennon's song "Imagine" which was probably his bestselling and most beloved song from 1971 that he had written.  The song came from poems that his wife Yoko Ono had written for her 1964 book "Grapefruit."  The song has been sung by more than 200 artists since that time.  Another of our favorites was "Brown Sugar" which was by The Rolling Stones.  The song was part of their 11th American LP titled Sticky Fingers.  Mick Jagger wrote the lyrics in 45 minutes.  Another hit from 1971 was Isaac Hayes' "Theme From Shaft."  The hard driving beat was hard to ignore and it gave him a #1 single that year.  He also took the Oscar for Best Original Song, making him the first Black artist to win that prize.  That guy was one, cool dude!  One more of my favorites was a song by The Doors titled "Riders On The Storm" which was recorded with singer Jim Morrison.  The song had its roots in the old cowboy song "Ghost Riders in the Sky" but was modernized by centering on a hitch-hiking killer who murdered six people in the 1950s while traveling between Missouri and California.  The single came out about a month before Morrison died of heart failure, likely due to drugs.  So, you see that the year 1971 had some good songs that will always be remembered...at least by my generation.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy. 

The "A Scary Sight No Matter What It Might Be! Part II" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Reading story after story published in just about every newspaper in Eastern Pennsylvania about the capture of an alligator found swimming in the Susquehanna River near Wrightsville, which is a few miles from my home in Lancaster.  When the local TV station came on at 12:00 noon, they too had a story about the alligator.  The American alligator has been found free-roaming the lower Susquehanna waterways on a number of occasions with one of the most recent sightings in 2007 in the vicinity of Doubling Gap Creek which is a tributary of the Conodoguinet Creek in Cumberland County, Pennsylvania.  But, that was almost 14 years ago and there is no way the sighting today was that same alligator.   As I continued to read and check the news stations and channels, I came across an online story heading...Alligator captured after being spotted in the Susquehanna River near Wrightsville, PA.  Just so happened that the alligator was a family pet that escaped from an enclosure the day before and found his way to the river.

Oscar the friendly alligator!

The owner said that he responds to the name of Oscar.  After slipping out of his enclosure he wandered toward the river and decided it was such a nice day he would take a swim in the cold waters of the Susquehanna River.  Oscar was sighted in the water near shore between the Route 30 bridge and the Route 462 Veterans Memorial Bridge between Columbia and Wrightsville.  The animal is between 3 to 4 feet long, but probably won't respond if you call for "Oscar."  In the nearby counties, having an alligator is legal.  His home, in the back yard of Tyler Hake, a biologist who works with reptiles and has had Oscar for many years, is about 100 feet from the river's West Bank and evidently the river looked so inviting that he decided it was time for a swim.  Tyler and a borough crew walked the riverbank and spotted Oscar in the river, pretty close to where they assumed he had entered.  

A view of Oscar along the side of the river.

Tyler was able to coax the reptile from the waters of the Susquehanna and return him to his home.  Mr. Hake said he appreciated the aid provided by the local police department as well as the borough workers.  I'm just assuming that the helpers probably wouldn't have entered the water had they seen the alligator and not known it had escaped from a local residence.  Carol and I have eaten many times along the river and know the exact spot where he was seen and captured.  Not sure what we might have done had we seen him swimming in the water in front of the restaurant.  I'm almost positive that I wouldn't have jumped into the murky water and tried to capture him, being that I'm not a good swimmer and relish my arms and legs too much.  All is well once again and no one has to worry about Oscar chopping off an arm or leg if they enter the water on a hot afternoon for a swim.  Or...do they!  Could there be more than one Oscar in the river?  That's such a common name around here that even after they captured Oscar, there still might be another...and yet another Oscar in the water.  Do all Oscar the Alligators in the Susquehanna River respond to humans?  How does anyone know that the first Oscar that responded is the only one in the murky waters?  (Time now for some scary music if you have any handy).  As for me...I'm never swimming in the Susquehanna River ever again.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "The Wall Mural Of Mussertown...The Talk Of The City Of Lancaster" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Reading the Saturday, May 29 newspaper and when I turned the page...the colors jumped off the page in front of me.  Headline read "FROM MANY LIGHTS, ONE".  Story was about a local artist who loves doing street murals.  The Lancaster, Pennsylvania neighborhood she is attached to at present is known as Mussertown which is in the Southeast part of the city.  I had done enough reading and thought it was time to make a visit to see exactly what she was doing that needed just about an entire page in the newspaper to tell about it.  Headed south from my home in Manheim Township and in less than ten minutes I had parked at the corner of Shippen and Locust Streets.  

Shauna Yorty putting finishing touches to her mural.

Yep, there was someone in a bucket lift painting black strokes with a paintbrush on the side of a brick corner-home.  I yelled up to the painter and was greeted by a woman's voice whose name turned out to be Shauna Yorty.  Watched for a bit and then began a conversation with both Shauna and her painter-buddy, Sean Cox, who painted below her.  

Both Shauna and Sean can be seen in this photograph.

I tried not to bother them too much since I know how tough it is to both talk and paint without making a mistake with you brush or in your conversation.   Told her who I was and what my mission was for the afternoon.  I spent some time examining all the other murals she had painted with other cohorts and just sat on the curb for some time watching the two of them put paint on the wall.  The newspaper article told me that Shauna and a group of volunteers began painting a mural on the outside wall of the home at 429 S. Shippen Street and expected to have it complete by the weekend.

This photograph shows both walls that are part of the mural.

The mural was titled "One Candle" and was designed by Shauna.  It depicted her vision of a sea of people, fists raised, holding candles, with one large candle in the center and smaller neighborhood candles surrounding it.  She had told the newspaper that there had been so many influences for her design; "moments when humans have stood together to shine light on horrors such as ecosystem collapse, species extension, the loss of black lives at the hands of the police, deforestation, climate change, the viral pandemic and on and on.  No matter what side of the political spectrum you fall on, the world is a rough place these days.  When I think about what gives me hope, it always comes down to humans standing together.  We each can only do so much, but together we light up the world."  

A closer look at the printed statement in both English and  Spanish.

 "All the darkness in the world cannot extinguish the light of a single candle," was spoken by St. Francis of Assisi."  The quote appears on a smaller wall on the left side of the large mural in orange, white and black over a purple backdrop and is in both English and Spanish to reflect the citizens in the Mussertown section of the city of Lancaster.  I could see her artistic ability as soon as I stepped out of my car on the other side of Locust Street.  High above the ground in a bucket lift stood Shauna while Sean painted from a ladder beneath her.  The two were fun to watch as they deliberately painted a black outline around where the colors touched one another.  

Closeby is another mural on the side of a home.

She estimated that the total cost of all the materials and time might be about $15,000.  She received funds from a variety of people and businesses as well as a GoFundMe campaign.  She also had the help of quite a few other artists who all spent time working on the project.  The newspaper reported that Slaymaker Rentals provided a boom lift, Pete Barber from Two Dudes Painting Co. provided primer for the wall, Mike Zimmerman from City Brick Restoration repointed the wall, Sherwin-Williams donated the paint and Lowe's and Howells Glass Co. donated painting supplies.  

I took one final photograph before I departed.

The lift that she was standing on when I made my visit was paid for by Charlie Snyder from Snyder's Funeral Home which is a few city blocks from the location. Shauna credited her neighbors with helping her come up with the idea that appears on the walls which she will finish soon.  The home that contains the "canvas" for her current artistic endeavor is owned by Todd Clerico.  He said that he saw another mural Shauna had done and wanted one on his wall.  Before long the entire neighborhood will resemble an art museum and Mussertown will be the envy of the city of Lancaster, Pennsylvania.  Bravo...Shauna and all whom have helped!  Your work is amazing!!  And...I hope I didn't bother you too much.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.  PS - Below are a few more colorful photographs showing both Shauna and Sean working on the wall mural.

The "A Scary Sight No Matter What It Might Be! Part I" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Reading a story about alligators and crocodiles.  Trying to determine how you can tell the difference between the two.  Guess it really doesn't matter if what is approaching you in the river where you are swimming is a crocodile or an alligator.  Both can do quite a bit of damage to you if they care to.  I can still remember when my wife and I took a vacation to Sanibel Island, Florida and took a day trip to ride an airboat in the Everglades of Florida.  Wasn't long before the pilot of the airboat was slowing down for a few alligators, or perhaps crocodiles, that we're approaching.  The boat slowed as the driver tossed some food to the menacing animals as we all watched in amazement at the size of these creatures who looked as if they might try to enter the boat.  The Florida Everglades is the only place on earth in which both alligators and crocodiles coexist.  These airboat drivers know exactly what they can and can't do to keep from provoking these big monsters of the swamps.  I for one didn't ask if I could try and feed them that day!  Just looking at the long green snout and pair of eyeballs floating just about the surface of the swamp is enough to scare just about any newcomer to the Everglades.  The experience was priceless, as they say, but I'm still not sure if what we saw were crocodiles or alligators.  The crocodile is the older of the two according to Herodotus, the Greek historian who wrote about it during the fifth century, B.C.  He described a type of lizard that liked to lounge on the pebbly banks of rivers, so its name was created by combining "kroke" (meaning gravel or pebbles) and "drilos" (meaning worm) or the large river reptile we know today as the crocodile.  The Greek "krokodilos" became the Latin "crocodilus" which more than likely became the English crocodile.  Sound like a good explanation?  But no, since in Medieval Latin the word got mixed up a bit, becoming the English crocodrillus which became the French crocodile which is the form that worked its way into English.  The English eventually spelled it as cokedrille, cocodril and kokedrille.  Never read why it ended up as crocodile, but I guess it doesn't matter anyway.  As for the word alligator; at about the same time in history Spanish explorers in the New World were finding large lizards in the rivers and swamps north of the Gulf of Mexico.  They called this monster "el algarto de Indias" or the lizard of the Indies.  Eventually it was made into a single word and called a "aligarto."  Then along came a Mr. Samuel Johnson who wrote a dictionary and who modernized the word to be "alligator."  And his definition of "alligator" was a "crocodile."  

Is this a crocodile or an alligator?  Read on...

So is the alligator a crocodile?  Depends whom you talk to it seems.  The two differ mainly in the snout where the alligator has a wide, rounded, u-shaped snout, and the crocodile has a long, pointed, v-shaped snout.  The crocodile also has an upper and lower jaw that are the same size which exposes their teeth as the jaws interlock, creating the look of a toothy grin.  The alligator's upper jaw overlaps its lower jaw.  Now, when confronted while swimming, by this large beast, do you really think you will take the time to see which one has the jaws that match and which one has overlapping jaws?  The alligator is definitely dangerous, but is relatively timid compared to the crocodile, while on the other hand, the alligator is much more bad-tempered and far more likely to attack humans, even unprovoked.  The Australian saltwater crocodile is considered the most dangerous in the world, followed by the Nile crocodile.  Both reptiles are huge in size, especially when you are in the water with them.  

Might his chart help you?

The Alligator can grow to between 10 to 15 feet in length, weighing about 500 pounds while the crocodile can reach 2,200 pounds and grow to 14 to 17 feet in length.  And, what's just as impressive is the fact that they both can run about 11 miles per hour on land.  Both can hold their breath for up to an hour with eyes on the top of their heads which make it hard to surprise them.  Both are great hunters after dark, with night vision being one of their attributes.  Today there are 15 species of crocodiles and 8 species of alligators.  As far as being the most feared...the crocodile has more bite strength with 3,700 pounds per square inch while the alligator has a bite strength of 2,900 pounds per square inch.  So, if you happen to be confronted while swimming by an animal that you are not sure if it is a crocodile or alligator, pray that it isn't either since you more than likely won't survive if it is one or the other.  You may survive if it is a very young animal...which will be my story for tomorrow.  Tune in!  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy. 

The "From One Dottie To Another!" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Carol and I had just pulled into the small building known as "Dottie's Snack Bar" on West Fourth Street in the little town of  Quarryville, Pennsylvania.  Our mission today was to buy a cheesesteak with onions for our evening meal today.  Knew that we would get perhaps the best cheesesteak that was ever made.  

Dottie's Snack Bar in Quarryville, Pennsylvania

But, all of a sudden we saw the absence of cars and knew that something was wrong.  Yep...there on the window was a hand-lettered sign that read: Please be patient. We are short staffed.  Thank You!  

Sign on the window of "Dottie's Snack Bar.

"Geez, and we came all the way from Lancaster to buy the best-ever cheesesteak and now we have to go home disappointed!" I said to Carol.  "I know...I should have called ahead, but I just read several online replies from other patrons and thought for sure they would be open.  Guess I should have checked the dates on those replies!  It was years ago that my mom told me about this little snack bar in Quarryville that was named after her.  "Dottie's Snack Bar" was opened by Bill and Dottie Tomlinson in 1968 and has been a part of the Quarryville foodscape since that time.  When my mom and dad first saw the sign along West Fourth Street on a return trip from my dad's sister's cottage along the Elk River in Maryland, my mom was hooked.  

My mother, Dottie.

This new Dottie was someone she just had to meet, since her name was also Dottie.  She made sure she talked to Dottie Tomlinson the first time they stopped in to tell her they were both named "Dottie."  My guess is that both Dottie's hit it off right from the start and talked on other occasions when mom and dad might have stopped for sandwiches at "Dottie's Snack Bar."  My mother, Dottie, died in October of 2012 at the age of 90 and often talked about her ice-cream treats at Dotties in Quarryville.  Well, about a week ago, the other Dottie, who owned and worked at "Dottie's Snack Bar," died at the age of 88.  

Dottie Tomlinson and husband Bill making a cheesesteak. (LNP Photo).

 Many things have been said about my mother and how humble she was.  Anyone whom needed help could count on my mom to help them.  She loved her family and loved to visit with them whenever she could.  After reading the story in the local newspaper about the death of Dottie Tomlinson, I could see exactly why my mom enjoyed meeting her years and years ago.  Even though they weren't best friends, they both shared the same name and had the same morals and love of humanity.  I'm so sorry I never had the chance to talk with Dottie Tomlinson, since she was always busy when we would stop for a cheesesteak or ice cream, but after reading her story in the newspaper, I could see why my Mother enjoyed meeting Dottie years ago.  May they sometime meet again in Heaven.  I'm sure they will remember each other!  How many Dotties could there be?  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.