The "Some Neat Cat Facts" Story

It was an ordinary day. One of our cats is lounging on the picnic table on the deck in the sun while the other is napping in his swivel chair by the TV. Creamsicle, the cat on the table, is our outdoor cat who will come in to visit, but not for long. He was dropped off in our neighborhood and kind of adopted us as his owners. Otis, the cat on the swivel chair, will be 19 years old soon and spends most of his day sleeping or begging for treats. The two cats have met each other with mixed emotions. Otis knows that he is the master of our house and even though he will touch noses with Creamsicle, he really doesn't want anything to do with him. I read that the nose-to-nose greeting is unusual, but it is done to gain information about the other cat; where he has been and what he has been doing.  I'm sure Creamsicle didn't get much from Otis's nose. But, there is one thing that they both do equally well, and that is PURR. While reading I found out that purring usually indicates contentment, however deep purring can also indicate pain. Cats start to purr at one week old and purr in a monotone when young. Kind of like how some people sing. When they age they can purr in two to three resonant notes. Kind of like harmony. Scientists still don't know exactly how the purring sound is made, although some believe that it originates in the cardiovascular system rather than the throat. A few other facts about cats are they can die, as dogs can, from eating chocolate; cats blink and narrow their eyes when they accidentally make eye contact; a cat's pulse is between 160-240 beats per minute; cats cannot understand punishment as humans do; giving a cat a raw strip of meat everyday to chew on will keep his gums and teeth in good condition. Hey, works for me also. And the final fact that we see more and more in Otis as he reaches really old age is that he likes to nap more often, and when really relaxed, can enter a deeper sleep. When he does that he actually produces the same brain wave patterns that we do when we dream. I do notice his paws will move and his ears and tail will twitch when he is in a deep sleep. For years I was the old man of the house, but Otis has surpassed me and I now look up to him to show me the proper ways to nap and sleep. I think I'm getting it right. At least my wife tells me I am. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy. PS - Creamsicle on top, Otis on bottom

The "Old Neighborhood: Amtrak Train Station" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Read in the paper a few days ago that commuters riding the Amtrak train from Lancaster, PA to points west and east  had to walk around the train station, cross the tracks and climb the steep stairs to get to the platform in order to catch their train in the early morning.  Wow!  How dangerous is that?  The commuters were locked out of the station which is in my old neighborhood where I grew up as a young boy back in the 50s and early 60s.  Spent many a day at the station back then with friends or by myself sliding down the brass railing inside the station, sitting on the benches of Platform #1 or #2, waiting for the trains to arrive so I could talk to the conductor or engineer.  Back then they would actually take time to talk to you.  Even crossed the tracks to sit under the platforms and watch the trains fly by directly in front of me.  But, that was way back then and I was not supposed to be crossing the tracks anyway.  This morning dozens of commuters had to do that in order to catch the train to head west to Harrisburg or east to Philadelphia to their jobs.  Seems that both the workers who were supposed to open the doors to the station at 5:00 AM didn't.  One called in sick and the other was late.  Only half an hour late mind you, but that was the busy morning rush hour and that's not acceptable.  This morning I read in the paper that US Senator Bob Casey really gave it to Amtrak.  See, this isn't the first time it has happened in recent months and the safety of rail travelers is in jeopardy when they have to venture across busy tracks that are in constant use.  Sounds like a law suit if someone would get hurt.  Casey called on Amtrak to immediately take corrective action and asked for a timely written response that outlines its plans to prevent the mistake from ever happening again.  Pennsylvania is trying to push mass transit and this certainly doesn't help the matter.  After reading all this and realizing I had nothing to do today, I thought it was time to visit the old stomping grounds and take a few photos.  Renovations have been taking place over the past few years to the tune of almost two million dollars.  Seems like I should be able to tell the difference when I visit.  When I arrived I noticed the new parking lots in front of the train station.  Always tough to park in the neighborhood and this will be a big help.  Pulled into spot #14 and read the sign that I was supposed to head to the toll booth to pay for the parking.  That I did and I found a sign that said "Booth closed".  As soon as you arrive you notice the new overhanging protective shields to make it easier to arrive and unload without getting wet on rainy days.  Only thing is, they don't match the architecture of the original train station.  I snap a few photos and head up the stairs.  The long brass railing heading upstairs is still as shiny and beautiful as it always was.  I reach the top of the stairs and look around.  Ticket window still remains on the left as it was years ago.  Took a few shots of the grand lobby and headed to the long windowed hall that leads to the platforms.  Shot a few pixs from one of the open windows of the tracks below and was confronted by the Porter/Red Cap.  Guy wants to know why I'm taking photos.  Reasonable question so I share my story with him.  Instantly, he becomes my best friend.  Tells me about the ongoing renovations or lack of ongoing renovations.  Not hard to see the peeling paint and plaster on the floor from the deterioration of the walls.  Where did the millions go?  I ask for the next arrival time and head for Platform #2.  A few more photos and I'm ready to leave.  Looked at some of the spots that I used to frequent almost every day during the summer when I was younger and headed back to the main lobby.  Stopped at the top of the steps and wondered what people would think if I slid down the brass railing.  Took a few parting shots and walked down the stairs.  Didn't want to chance breaking something if I should fall sliding down the railing as I did many times years ago.  Memories upon memories of the old neighborhood flooded me today.  Must return soon, I thought to myself.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

Lancaster, Pennsylvania Amtrak Railroad Station.

Entrance.

Brass railing leading to the lobby and trains.

Lancaster Train Station Grande Lobby.

Yep, to the trains.

Red Cap giving me the arrival time.

Rails with concrete ties.

All Aboard!

Westbound train leaving the station.

Ticket booth.

Slide or not to slide .......... I walked!

The "Going...Going...Gone" Story

The obsolete?

It was an ordinary day.  Taking the battery out of my Nikon Coolpix camera before I throw it away.  If I happen to buy another Nikon camera, maybe the battery will fit in the new one and I will then have a spare.  But, not sure I want another Nikon, since this one lasted for such a short time before it went kaput. It was the third small size digital camera I have owned since giving up on film cameras.  Photo film has been listed as one of the items that is just about obsolete in our modern society.  That, along with tube televisions, Rolodex, printed encyclopedias, bank deposit slips, phone books, answering machines and soon to be obsolete incandescent light bulbs.  Yep, the old Kodak film roll isn't long for this world.  For years and years I taught film photography in high school and helped students hand-roll canister after canister of film.  Hey, after buying my first digital camera I have never taken another film photograph.  Why would I want to?  Recently saw an article about other items that will slowly vanish from society in the near future.  Things such as the analog clock.  That along with the wristwatch will be hard for me to give up, but with cellphones and digital clocks that are synced perfectly to satellites, why chance forgetting to turn the clock forward or backward with the change from daylight to regular time.  Another item is the home phone.  Often thought about getting rid of my land line, but fear that if I give it up, how will people find me if they try to look me up in the phone book.  Oh yeah, I forgot that the phonebook will be obsolete soon also.  What I may really miss though is going out to the mail box to get the daily mail.  Revenue will eventually dry up for the postal department and with the world going toward total electronic communications, why will I need a mail box.  Then there is cursive writing.  Or I guess I should say, then there was cursive writing.  Have any children in school right now?  Do they teach them cursive?  Probably not.  Hawaii, Indiana, Illinois and Ohio have officially dropped handwriting as an educational requirement and many other states are thinking about dropping it.  To me that is really sad.  What will happen to the hand-written thank you note and special invitation or the letter to mom or dad from summer camp ...... all will be lost to the electronic devices we now have, even as pre-teenagers.  How impersonal is that?  And, another soon to be obsolete item is money.  By 2020 it is predicted that only 10% of all monetary transactions will be in cash.   Electronic payment systems will replace our coins and greenbacks, making them even more collectible.   All the different passwords that I have trouble remembering when I want to check my different accounts online will not be necessary when all I will have to do is place my finger on a reader or look into a monitor to unlock them.  Now the last item that I will list is one that I can't believe will ever become obsolete, but I have read several places that it will be gone forever in my lifetime is toilet paper.  Can you believe that?  Toilet-seat bidets will wash and dry you at the touch of a button, eliminating paper waste, and may eliminate soap since why will you need to wash your hands after using the bathroom.  Wouldn't it be nice to stop time!  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "Painter of Light" Story

It was an ordinary day. Just finishing my day at Grebinger Gallery where I work part-time matting and framing customers jobs. Did a huge Michael Jordan number print today that was 6 feet long and 23" high. #1 of 100, so it naturally is a collectors item. Then I stopped in the main gallery to talk to Keith, my boss and former student, about another job I will work on tomorrow. Checked out the two Thomas Kinkade framed photos when I walked in the door. Anything associated with the name Kincade has been a fast mover since his untimely death recently. The 54-year old Kinkade died on April 6th. His girlfriend said he died in his sleep, very happy, in the house he built, with the paintings he loved, and the woman he loved. Naturally, she meant her. The two had been dating for the past 18 months, about 6 months after his wife filed for legal separation. Kinkade was known for his paintings of bucolic pastoral scenes and charming cottages and candlelit images made into calendars and decorative plates that are said to fill one in 20 homes in California. The fine-art world derided his work as tacky, but mainstream Americans flocked to his paintings. At the gallery in Neffsville, Pennsylvania, we have sold his work for years. Keith would buy canvas prints and I would frame them. When we did buy his framed art, we sometimes would take the prints out of the frames and re-frame them because the cheap materials and crummy workmanship that they sold to the public was terrible. Prices for Kinkade's work were very high for the product you got. I often thought that his work was on the same scale as the velvet Elvis paintings of the 60s and 70s. In the minds of the art establishment Kinkade represented the lowest type of art, but gave his fans and countless collectors the commercial art that they loved and adored. He titled himself the "Painter of Light" because of the luminous light and tranquil mood of his paintings. That light, Kinkade would say, represented the light of God penetrating the darkness, as well as a literal translation of Jesus being “the light of the world”—and this was the other aspect of Kinkade’s art that made him so popular. An evangelical Christian (one so devout he gave all of his children the middle name “Christian”), Kinkade repeatedly posited that all of his paintings contained a “moral dimension” to their otherwise-innocuous pastoral blandness. Kinkade sold his art with the idea that it represented traditional values of faith, peace, and a simpler way of living. Some made this explicit through depictions of Christian iconography or allusions to specific Bible passages. But, he also had a dark side with overindulging and unethical business practices. Lately he insisted that this part of his past was behind him, although a 2010 arrest for DUI may have suggested otherwise. He died at a relatively young age with no known illnesses and an official cause of death is awaiting the autopsy. Thomas Kinkade said, "My mission as an artist is to capture those special moments in life adorned with beauty and light. I work to create images that project a serene simplicity that can be appreciated and enjoyed by everyone. That's what I mean by sharing the light." The many owners of his work will agree. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy. PS - photos from the top are: Thomas Kinkade, one of his luminescent paintings, two of his pieces in Grebinger Gallery, and Keith holding a canvas by Kinkade.

The "Ah! Pig Meat with Bacon. Yum!!" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Carol and I were talking about the good ole days before our daughter was married, but was still living with us.  Matter-of-fact, her soon-to-be husband, Dave, also was living with us.  Brynn and Dave had both just graduated from Millersville University and had teaching jobs lined up in the county.  It was a busy household for about a year before they married and moved to Maryland to continue their teaching careers.  While in Lancaster, Carol tried to devise meals that all four of us would enjoy.  One of the meals we had every so often was Mac and Spam.  Other times we would have Spam sandwiches with cheese melted on top.  Not a big favorite with the kids, but it was our way of telling them that if you continue to live here, this is what you will be eating.  Worked!!  After they moved out we put the extra Spam in the back of the cabinet and didn't use it unless necessary.  Well, today while shopping together at the local supermarket, we passed the shelf with the Spam on it.  Carol said, "Wonder if I remember what that tastes like."  I replied, "Pretty much like the Taylor Pork Roll with cheese sandwiches that we have every year on the Ocean City boardwalk."  Then we looked over the other varieties of Spam that were on the shelf: Hickory Smoked, Spam Lite (Like this is good for you), 25% Less Sodium Spam (or this one), Oven-Roasted Turkey Spam, Spicy and Hot Spam, Spam and Cheese (Hey, that's our type), and Spam With Bacon.  "Let's have one for lunch today," I said.  We agreed on the Spam With Bacon which we could easily put a piece of cheese on after it was heated.  Was a tasty meal, but we both wondered how much trash we had just eaten. "Can't be that bad," I said.  "Remember when we went to Hawaii in '99 and they had Spam sandwiches on the menu of quite a few restaurants?  Even the Burger King had Spam on the menu in Hawaii.  I'll bet our traveling companions, Jerry and Just Sue, remember.  I think the islanders told us they even have a week-long Spam celebration on Waikiki Beach sometime during the year."  Well, a few days ago I got the answer to my question about what  kind of trash is in Spam when my "Wired" magazine arrived in the mail.  There was a one page story titled "What's inside Spam With Bacon?"  Are you ready for this?

1. Pork with Ham - Duh, aren't these the same.  Nope.  Ham is the hind leg of a pig that's been preserved, colored, and flavored through a process known as curing, while pork is just "meat from hogs." And, both are in Spam.
2. Modified Potato Starch - After 3 hours of cooking in the can, the moisture is gone from the meat, so they add potato starch which traps water molecules, binding that juicy goodness in the loaf. I can just taste it now! 
3. Sodium Nitrite - NaNO2 inhibits the bug that causes botulism, adds flavor, and turns cured meat a "healthy" pink hue.  Ah, pink Spam!
4. Salt - Sodium Nitrate serves the purpose of preserving without refridgeration of the Spam.  It also adds flavor to the Spam.  Enough salt in Spam that it is equivalent to 234 Ruffles potato chips.  Now, that's healthy in my book.
5. Sugar - Why not!  It isn't really necessary, but oh so good.  Again, it is used for flavor to counter-balance the bitterness of the salt that they didn't have to put in.  The combo of fat, salt, and sugar works on the brain's dopamine and opioid circuitry - the same circuitry that narcotics stimulate.
6.  Bacon - "The cured belly of a swine carcass," says the USDA.  Mmmmm, tasty!  Done by injecting a brine solution into the belly of a butchered swine (you knew that meant pig, right?).  The brine contains sodium erythorbate, an antioxidant that's chemically similar to vitamin C.  This is necessary to boost the conversion of the sodium nitrite in bacon into nitric oxide, which minimizes the production of carcinogens when the pork belly is fried up.   

Yep, a real canned pigfest!  And, I love it!  Especially with cheese on it!!  My guess is it's got to cut at least half a dozen years off your life if you eat it once a week.  Add cheese and put it in a soft roll to make it better and you can add another year to the 6 already mentioned.  Ready for some for supper?  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "Do You Have Too Much Stuff?" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Cleaning the house.  For the last 10 or so years, since my wife still works a more regular schedule that I do, I clean the house and grocery shop on Fridays.  Do I mind it?  Nah!  Carol did those jobs for years and years while I was teaching and working weekends doing siding, maintenance jobs, etc. to try and make ends meet with a family of five.  Now, with the kids all out of the house and no longer teaching school, I have the time to do those chores so that Carol and I can have the weekends free to enjoy together.  But, it's the cleaning I want to get back to for this story.  The vacuuming is taken for granted, but the dusting of all the "stuff" we have accumulated over the years is another story.  Five years ago, when my mom and dad both became ill and I had to clean out their house and get rid of their "stuff," it made me think of all the "stuff" that Carol and I had accumulated during our marriage.  For weeks I would load my car with mom and dad's "stuff" and bring it home with me to put out for the trash man.  Then I started to wonder, do we really need those three boxes in the dining room that are stacked on top of one another for decoration?  Do we really need the bird's nest that we bought while in Hawaii that sits on top of a display stand in our living room?  Do we really need the eight inch wide plastic cylinder on the wet bar filled with over a hundred sea shells that collects dust?  Do I really need that miniature replica of a clipper ship sitting on my desk?  The answer to all these questions is no, but they all carry memories that we don't care to forget, at least not yet.  Carol and I were going to buy another piece of artwork on our recent vacation to the Caribbean, but we didn't.  We asked each other what will happen to all our artwork when we die.  Will the kids see it's value or worth or will they put it out for the trash man as I did with my mom and dad's "stuff.'  We have collected and accumulated "stuff" for 45 years of marriage and it's tough to throw it away.  When we moved from our house on Janet Avenue where we lived for 29 years to our new house on Harrington Drive, we discarded plenty.  Box after box of "stuff" filled the trash cans in the alley behind our Janet Avenue home, some to be claimed by neighbors who eventually sold it at our neighborhood yard sale.  What "stuff" we did bring with us that never got used in our new house, was packed in boxes and placed in our crawl space above our garage.  From time to time I go through it and pitch some of it.  I just hate to throw out something that I know we will need in the future.  But, when is the future?  Eventually we may move to a retirement community and then what will happen to all the "stuff" that occupies the ten rooms in our current home.  Hopefully our kids will see fit to claim some of our "stuff" to keep with their "stuff' in storage.  It is a never ending circle.  I was reading about how you can get rid of your "stuff" that's not worth saving.  

1. Sell it!  Can be sold on eBay or even Craigslist.  I'm not really into garage sales, so that's not an option.
2. Trash it!  Tough to do, but the Corvette trophies I have in my office mean nothing to anyone but me.  There goes one boxful.  Boxes of old dishes that none of the kids want also could hit the curb.
3.  Give it away!  Clothing that is no longer in style may be needed by someone, so take it to Goodwill or Salvation Army.  

Then there is the "stuff" that should be tossed today such as VHS tapes and cassette tapes.  I trashed the VHS and cassette player years ago so the tapes mean nothing.  Old electronic chargers and cables that went with the old electronic "stuff" can be tossed.  Items that were part of old hobbies that you never followed through on can be tossed.  Gadgets in the garage, work bench and kitchen that were for one purpose and are now in a box somewhere can get tossed.  See how easy it is.  How about the exercise equipment in your bedroom or basement that hasn't been used since you reached you ideal weight or strength.  Yeah right!  Toss or give it away.  All that I now have to do, as well as you, is to decide what is necessary and what is really "stuff."  Remember, there's food, there's clothing, there's shelter, and then there's "stuff."  Start packing.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "Acting Your Age" Story

It was an ordinary day.  And, today I feel my age.  So what does that really mean.  Well, many people tell you that you're only as old as you feel.  You may be 60, 65, or even 70, but you feel that you can do everything you always could do when you were say 40.  Maybe not as well or as fast as when you were 40, but at least you can still do what you did when you were 40.  Today I physically can't do most things that I did when I was 40.  Back surgery half a year ago and a recent encounter with a case of shingles has put me in my place.  No more running, skipping or jumping right now.  No more hitting grounders or fly balls to the grandkids.  Matter-of-fact, no long walks right now.  I'm starting to feel like my grandparents probably did when I was younger.  I loved my grandpap!  He could do just about anything, or so I thought.  I remember when he would stand on his head in the corner of the room and when all the loose change in his pockets started falling out, I scurried for it.  Little did I know that he knew it would fall out and he was showing off to make himself feel younger.  I guess I do that when I'm around my grandkids.  Always doing something "goofy" for the grandkids so they will think I'm really younger than I am.  But, kids have no conception of age, do they?  I suspect they picture me as Tampah, which is who I really am, but they don't associate me with being old.  Heck, I'm Tampah.  I'm ageless!  If only I could feel that way again.  My grandkids look at me without judgement.  Age spots mean nothing to them. The wrinkles I am developing in my skin; they could care less about them.  But, you know, admiring an older person like I did with my grandpap, is so different than being one.  The mirror in my bathroom doesn't lie.  The age spots, wrinkles, and loss of muscle tone mean more to me than they do to the grandkids.  I look at my mother who is going to be 90 and see what aging has done to her body and realize that I'll be in her shoes in another 20 odd years.  But, you know you can't let aging bother you.  Do you ever look at your friends and think how much older they look than you do.  I do all the time.  And ....... they really do look older!  At least in my mind they do.  When I go to the beach and see the older bodies, I feel young again.  When I'm with my grandkids, joking, laughing and making fun of just about everything, I feel young again.  Then, just when I really get going with the grandkids, my wife will say, "LDub, act your age!"  And my reply ........ "I am." At least in my mind.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.  

Tampah and the grandkids goofing around.  Can you tell which one is Tampah?  Hope not!

The "I'm Using Password for My Password" Story

It was an ordinary day. Trying to "log-on" to my mom's account information. I have been handling my mother's banking, insurance, and anything related to money accounts for the last five years, since she moved to Moravian Manor Retirement Community in Lititz, PA. And, she loves it! No more worries for the rest of her life. And for me ........ I now have to worry about her finances as well as my own. But that's what children are for, isn't it? Anyway, getting back to "logging-on." For the life of me I can't remember what the password is that I need to access her account. I have to dig up the sheet of paper that I have all the User IDs and passwords listed on in order to get any further. Uh, Oh! Where did I put it? I keep it hidden so no one can find it, and that happens to be me today. I'm dialing right now to ask my wife where she put it. I know she didn't put it anywhere, but when she remembers where I put it, I feel better. Does everyone have the same trouble as I do? Seems that most places where you need a User ID have a button you push if you forgot one or the other. So there ..... I'm not the only one who forgets them. Years ago when I first needed a password at the ATM window I should have thought of a password that would be good for every other account in my life. But, I didn't, and now I have over a dozen passwords that I use. If one doesn't work, I try the next, then the next and so forth until one works. Experts tell you not to use your address or phone number or something that any crook could guess. I saw a list in a publications recently that gave the top 25 easiest passwords to guess and steal. A few of them, from easiest to hardest, were: password, 123456, abc123, monkey, letmein, trustno1, dragon, baseball, I love you, shadow, 123123, superman, football. Did I guess your password with my list? I used to have baseball as my password, but changed it when I found out a couple of my friends had the same password. Remember the Seinfeld episode when Kramer tried to guess what George's password was? Remember "Bosco"? According to SplashID there are words that you should avoid if you can. "qazwsx" is one of them. If you haven't figured out what that is, it is the left-hand side two rows of the keyboard from top to bottom. Easy to type, but also easy to guess. Identity theft is growing so don't get caught with a common password.  Here are some tips from the experts that will make it harder for hackers to get into your accounts: GO LONG - use at least 12 keystrokes, since it would take hackers more than 17,000 years to crack; MIX IT UP - use upper and lower case letters, underscores, and symbols like @ and %; and FINESSE YOUR FAVORITES - for easier recall (that means me) base your passwords on foods you like, TV shows or first letter of a song, but do it with tweaks, symbols and conscious misspellings. Whatever you choose, the experts still tell you not to use the same password for every account you have. If a crook gets one of you passwords, you don't want him to clean out every account that you have. For additional help you can go to a great place that can help you; microsoft.com/security and then select "Create Strong Passwords." And when all else fails, call your wife like I do. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy. PS - check out the following YouTube clip for a good laugh.

The "One of Life's Moments" Stories

Ripken Complex in Aberdeen, MD

It was an ordinary day.  Our daughter, Brynn, and granddaughters Courtney and Camille  traveled from Maryland to visit with us for the weekend and to attend a few family functions over the weekend.  My neice and her husband had scheduled a birthday party for two of their children and my brother and sister-in-law scheduled a pool party at their house for everyone who attended the birthday party.  My brother lives right next to his daughter so it makes for an easy trip after the birthday party.  One evening over the weekend, after the grandkids had gone to bed, Carol and I sat with Brynn and we had a chance to catch up on all the latest news and gossip.  It was during this time that she told us a story about one of her friends, Karen.  This story was on Karen's Facebook page and is soooooo good that I had to share it with you.  On this particular day, Karen's son had a little league baseball game at The Ripken Academy, home of Cal Ripken youth camps and tournaments.  Fabulous facility with miniature sized fields designed to look like some of the major league ballfields.  The complex is located in Aberdeen, Maryland.  The rest of the story is in Karen's words.  I'm sure you will enjoy it as much as I did.  

Ok...I'm not sure I can do this story justice on here...but here goes. We own a tent but have no rolling bag, so I was schlepping from the car to the field. The rest of the family had already headed out to the field. I parked the car close to the first game, but it turned out to be the furthest place possible to the next game...and those tents are super heavy. So I was about three fourths of the way there and I thought I might die. I couldn't feel my arms, I was sweating profusely, shuffling it from one shoulder to the other or carrying it like a bundle of logs, when I was approached by a gentleman in sunglasses and a baseball hat. He said, "Can I help you with your tent?" Normally I would say no because I'm fairly proud, but I said, "Sure, thanks." I never really looked him in the face because I was embarrassed that I needed help and I was embarrassed I was so freaking sweaty. We walked along together and I thanked him and asked if his son was on the opposing team...he had a red hat on and the team we were playing was red. He said, "No, I'm just an interested observer." I told him he could just put my tent down near the field and I would get some of the men to come get it. He said that he would take it wherever I needed it. So I continued down the hill walking side by side telling him how appreciative I was. When we finally got to the spot I yelled, "Dad, Robert...I needed your help and this kind, strange man (for the record I meant stranger) just carried my tent." The kind strange man took off his sunglasses and said, "I'm Cal." I was rendered completely speechless (and for those of you who know me well...that NEVER happens.) I was standing extremely close to him and I looked up into those beautiful blues and said the only words that came to my mind..."I am in awe of you, Mr. Ripken." Really? Like a lovesick freakin' sweaty puppy. Needless to say, my oldest son Robert was handing me his phone saying, "Take a picture, Karen"...trying to knock me out of my wordless stupor. And so a few of us got some quick pix and them he walked off. I already thought he was amazing...but seriously?!?!...I walked side by side with Cal Ripken while he carried my tent and had NO idea...I only wish I could hear him tell it...hahaha...once in a lifetime, man.

Amazing story and I loved it!!  Only goes to show you that celebraties and athletes at times look as common as anyone and can be as human and caring as the next person.  I only wish I could have been walking with the two of them that day.  While searching for the story on her Facebook page I had to laugh when I saw that her image on her page is Cal Ripken.  What else could it be?  Perfect ending!!  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "The Old Neighborhood: Mohn Bros. Buick" Story

Building was the original Mohn Bros. Buick dealership

It was an ordinary day.  Stopped at Horsepower Enterprises at 939 N. Prince Street to see the '54 Vette they had in the window for almost a month.  Parked the car at the end of their lot and walked to the showroom.  As soon as I walked in the place I knew I was in for a disappointment.  No car!  Young girl approached me and asked if she could help me.  "What happened to the Vette that was in that spot for the last couple of weeks," I said as I pointed to the far corner of the showroom by the small window.  "We just sold it and the guy picked it up yesterday," she replied.  Car had been for sale for $66,199 and I thought it would sit in the showroom for ever, but this place moves classic cars almost as fast as Mecum does on it's auto shows on TV.  I actually had my camera along with me so I could take a photo of the grill for a story I have planned called "Motor Mouths."  Pretty neat title, huh?  Anyway, we talked for a short time and I told her this was my old stomping grounds from my childhood and was wondering if she would mind if I walk around and take a few photos.  She seemed disinterested in my comment, but said it was no problem for her, so I walked outside and across the street to get a shot of what used to be Mohn Bros. Buick dealership.  I lived in the last house on N. Queen Street, a block to the east of the car dealer.  Spent quite a bit of time in the 50s and early 60s in the old neighborhood.  Many a day I would take a short cut to visit with a friend or two to the west of Mohn Bros. and would walk through their parking lot.  That was when cars had character and had real bumpers made of chrome.  I can still remember late September in the 50s when the three car dealers on the corner of North Prince and McGovern Ave. would all cover their display windows with brown Kraft paper to keep viewers from seeing the new models for the upcoming year.  That was when the new models didn't look exactly the same as the one they were replacing.  Sometime around late October they would all remove the paper for a grand opening to reveal the chrome and fins on the cars.  Mohn Bros. was on the south-east corner, Lancaster Lincoln-Mercury was on the north-east corner and Wolf Motors was on the north-west corner.  When I entered junior-high school, and had to take the bus to school, the bus stop was on the south-west corner so we had plenty of days to prepare for the grand opening of all three dealerships.  Many a time we would try to see over the top of the paper or maybe through a small hole in the paper, but never worked.  Mohn Bros. opened their doors for business in 1929 and remained there until 1981.  The father of my friend Jerry worked at the nearby Railway Express until it closed then got a job driving the three-wheeled motorcycle for Mohn Bros. for a couple of years until he was old enough to retire.  Sad, but he never made it to 62 and retirement .  When I was 17 years old I had a 1955 Ford that was pink and white in color and I got razzed about the color all the time.  I knew the guy who ran the paint shop at Mohn Bros., since I would stop in often to talk and he painted the car black for me, but the interior still had the pink and white theme to it.  Oh, well.  In 1981 the dealership changed hands and was called Red Rose Buick.  At this point in time I was married with three kids and no longer lived in the neighborhood.  Red Rose closed in 1999, probably because the Buick was not as popular as it  once was.  The building sat vacant for a few years until the current owner moved into it.  Well, I took a few exterior shots of the place and headed into the garage area as I did many times in the 50s and 60s.  Cars of all ages were in all stages of restoration.  I saw another Vette in the rear of the garage and headed to see it, but was stopped and told I couldn't be in the garage.  I explained my mission, but didn't matter.  Insurance didn't allow it.  So I left the place for probably the last time ever.  Did bring back many memories of my early years in the old neighborhood.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "Saving the Trophies" Story

It was an ordinary day. A name from the past popped up in the news today; John Byler.   John's son, Jonathan, played high school baseball with my oldest son, Derek, back in the late 1980s. Jon was a few years younger and didn't get to play that much during Derek's time on the team. John and his son and family lived about a mile from the school in an enormous home that had a few out-buildings. John was kind enough to allow the high school baseball team to use one of his barns to set up an indoor batting area for year-round practice. About a half dozen of us made a really neat batting cage in the barn and took turns throwing batting practice to the team as well as feeding an automatic pitching machine. After my son graduated I'm not quite sure what ever happened to the batting cage. During those years we were occasionally invited to visit at John's home in the summer for outdoor picnics. One or two of those times John invited me into his trophy room to show me his collection of stuffed exotic animals that he had shot while on hunting trips to all parts of the world. A huge bear, that stood easy eight feet tall, was in one corner of the room with many varieties of wild cats stuffed and placed in other parts of the room. Room had to be at least fifteen feet tall and really showed off his collection. I can appreciate what he had, but I am not one who enjoys killing animals just for the sport. And, it must have cost him a fortune to travel all over the world just to kill these animals. John also had a full grown wild cougar in a cage on his property. Saw stories about it many times as the neighbors fought with him to get rid of it before one of their children were badly injured by it. Finally did get rid of it. Well, John's name popped up tonight on the evening news. As Carol and I watched the screen, we saw footage of this tremendous fire on Landis Valley Road which looked like it had totally destroyed whatever was burning. Firefighters from 8 companies battled the blaze. Then we heard the name; John Byler. "Wow," I said to Carol. "I wonder if it destroyed his trophy room." The next day, as I read the newspaper, I found out that it caused $750,000 damage to the home and another $250,000 damage to the furnishings. Seems that John and two workers, who were painting one of the out-buildings, discovered the fire as he was about to leave the property. They tried to use a garden hose to put out the fire, but lost the battle.  Finally called the fire company who had trouble getting enough fire hose to the house because of the extremely long driveway. One section of the house was saved; John's beloved trophy room! A few vehicles were also saved which included a Ford GT and a Mercedes SUV. The newspaper listed John as the part-owner of 3 golf courses and the largest movie theatre in Lancaster County. As of now, the cause of the fires has not been determined, but does not look suspicious. Maybe the cougar came back to haunt him. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "LDub, The Girlie Man" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Checking my email and found a few woman who like my Pinterest pins.  OK, now what is that.  I clicked on them and found out that sure enough I must have a Pinerest account.   Figured out right away who must have the account with my photo on it.  Yep, my wife.  She didn't have a photo that she liked so she used the one that I use for this blog.  Thought I recognized it.  For those of you who have no idea what Pinerest is, here is what Wikipedia says: Pinterest is a pinboard-style social photo sharing website that allows users to create and manage theme-based image collections such as events, interests, hobbies, and more. Users can browse other pinboards for inspiration, 're-pin' images to their own collections and/or 'like' photos. Pinterest's mission is to "connect everyone in the world through the 'things' they find interesting" via a global platform of inspiration and idea sharing.  That help?  I also found out that there is Pinterest etiquette which includes: Be respectful; Be authentic; Credit your sources; Report objectionable content; and Tell them how to make it better.  So, I'm looking at all the pins on my Pinterest pinboard that I allegedly pinned and find that they are all ....... well ..... female related.  Pretty stuff!  People will think I'm a girlie man!  Now I did like all the animal shots that my wife pinned for me and I do like all the neat food photos and recipes, but where are the photos of my favorite Phillies and the ones of the Vettes.  No where to be found.  Then the next email that I open happens to be the favorite pins from Caribbean fans.  These I like.  The top 10 pinned photos of the month from Caribbean Travel and Life magazine.  So since I have to look at all my other pins, I thought I would add these to my Pinterest board.  If only I can figure out how to do it.  I may have to ask my wife.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

#10 Kayaking in the Bahamas.

#9 A quiet little beach in Bermuda, the beautiful Jobson's Cove.

#8 Royal Hideaway Playacar in Riviera Maya, Mexico. 

#7 Little Cayman island.

#6 Booby Cay, Jamaica. This is a nude beach, but not named for THAT!

#5 La Romana's Isla Catalina beach in the Dominican Republic.

#4 Stunning image from The Caves near Rick's Cafe in Negril, Jamaica.

#3 Concrete and steel sculptures in Moliniere Bay Grenada.

#2 One of the most epic views in the Caribbean. St. Lucia

#1 Coral Beach Club, St. Maarten.  The ultimate in relaxation

The

The "Faces of Strangers: #2" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Talking to Al about slappin' a band together.  I met Al while walking on Alley Way which runs along Lancaster's historic Market Alley in the center of the Lancaster, Pennsylvania.  There he sat on a wooden bench, dressed in his athletic jersey and pants, #7 on the sleeves and the back of the jersey, while playing on a six string guitar and singing a soulful tune.  Stopped and sat down next to him.  He didn't miss a beat as he finished the song.  "You write that yourself?" I asked him as I threw a few bucks in his guitar case.  "Yeah, I write a lot of my own music," he said.  Al was originally from Berks County which is to the north-east of Lancaster.  He has played guitar for over 25 years and has been in blues bands, classic rock bands and heavy metal bands.  Told me that his favorite guitar was a '67 Gibson which he had to sell to pay the rent.  He went on to tell me that his only family was his sister who was in an auto accident years ago and changed her from a nice to a terrible person.  The entire time I sat with Al he kept on playing and singing songs.  Didn't recognize any of them, but I'm not sure he did either.  Seemed that he was doing quite a bit of ad libbing as he played.  His guitar and songs accommodated him when he didn't want to answer my questions, but I still felt sorrow for this guy who was down on his luck.  Could be me sitting on that bench playing the guitar and begging for a few bucks I thought to myself.  Life hasn't been kind to him.  I promised to stop again when I get a chance so we could talk some more about his idea of slappin' a band together to play the night club circuit.  He had a smile on his face when I threw another dollar in his guitar case as I walked away.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "Papier-Mache Man" Story

Interior of Strawberry & Co.

It was an ordinary day.  Just checkin' to see what story I would like to post today.  Yesterday I wrote a story about my friend Wayne who runs Strawberry & Co. in downtown Lancaster.  Only problem is that when I clicked on the story today, I deleted it.  So, I am attempted to re-write it close to the same as yesterday.


It was an ordinary day.  Just returning home from Strawberry & Co. where I dropped off a few of my Polaroid prints that I sell at the shop.  Owner Wayne provides a great outlet for the artist talent of Lancaster and I'm so glad that he allows me the chance to sell my work in his store.  Wayne's store got its name from his wife's love of strawberries.  Pretty neat!  He started the store in 1981, but it originally was at #5-#7 on West King Street.  The store fronts on King Street, but opens in the rear on Market Alley which is where the historical farmer's market in Lancaster is located.  He stayed at that location for 21 years then moved to #11 West King Street to gain valuable wall and floor space.  The shop is a narrow ornamented place packed with paintings, sculptures, photography, frames, and papier-mache renderings of animals and characters.  The later are from the owner of the shop.  Wayne specializes in the art of papier-mache and he is extremely talented.  For those who don't know what papier-macheis, it is a composite material consisting of paper pieces or pulp, sometimes reinforced with textiles, bound with an adhesive, such as glue, starch, or wallpaper paste.  I can remember loving to work with it in elementary school, but my mom wasn't to thrilled to have me work with around the house.  His smiling, pleasant face greets all visitors as if they have been his friends forever.  Usually get to visit with him weekly since he is doing very well with selling my photos.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy. 

Mr. Sun

Owner Wayne examining my favorite, a rabbit with pipe

LDub's photos on the wall

Little dog that keeps an eye on you

Storefront sign

The Jack-in-the-box

Mr. Groundhog

The cat that guards the entrance