It was ordinary day. Watching and listening to the sports announcer telling the world that my baseball Philadelphia Phillies has a franchise-record and major league high eight All-Stars in the All-Star Game which is a reflection of what the Phillies have done so far this season; but not where they expect to be when it was all over. Especially, after how they finished each of the last two seasons. "Our goal as a group is very straightforward, and that's to win the World Series," reliever Jeff Hoffman said this past Monday before the All-Star Game workout. "Obviously, this is a nice accolade on the way there, but our goals are more lofty than this." These Phillies have a 62-34 record at present that is the best in baseball, and their most wins ever at the All-Star break. They have an 8 1/2 game lead over the Atlanta Braves in the National League East. "We definitely had a pretty dang good first half," first baseman Bryce Harper said. "I think when you have a good team, you have depth. Just a lot of fun as a group, from the top down." Harper, short-stop Trea Turner and third baseman Alec Bohm were all voted by fans as All-Star starters. The Phillies then became the first team to have five All-Star pitchers, with three from their starting rotation that leads the majors with a 3.22 ERA. "I don't think we think we deserve anything. I think it's just more so, it's a pretty hungry group," Bohn said, "I think we've gotten close enough two times to where there's some hunger there for sure." Philadelphia in 2022 made its first World Series since 2009 and lost in six games to Houston. The Phillies didn't make it back last October, even after winning the first two games of the National League Championship Series and then returned home for Game 6 with a 3-2 lead and postseason standout Aaron Nola on the mound. They instead lost twice at home to the Arizona Diamondbacks. "No one's going to talk about the eight Phillies that made the All-Star Game unless we win the World Series," reliever Matt Strahm said. "It'll be remembered when they won the World Series and had eight All-Stars, so.....we all have one goal in mind, and this is just a stop along the way." Strahm wasn't with the Phillies during their World Series run two years ago, but signed with them as a free agent right after that. "Last year being with the team, you could feel it from the guys that came up short the year before, and I mean just feed off it." he said. "Day one spring (this year), it didn't even feel like we even said Hi! Like....we were just let's go, and we all knew..... It's just an open wound until we fix it." Neither Zack Wheeler or Ranger Suárez pitched in the All-Star Game, though both have 10-4 records. Left-handed Christopher Sánchez (7-4, 2.96 ERA) is a first-time All-Star pick, as are relievers Hoffman and Strahm. Wheeler skipped his scheduled start Sunday and is using the All-Star break to recover from a nagging back issue, while Suárez is being held out as a precaution after experiencing tightness and spasms in his lower back after his Friday night start last week. World Series fever has begun to set in, and everyone on the team is starting to feel it. But, it's still a long way before the end of the season, and other teams are prepping themselves to take on the Phillies. I'd love to see my Phils make it to the World Series, but I'm not getting my hope too high just yet. Maybe by the time they get to the final few weeks and still have a chance....then I'll get World Series Fever. They have the personnel to do it....but the entire team must stay healthy. Losing a key pitcher or position player could be a disaster. I'll keep you informed if and when they reach a new plateau. September is still a long way off,....and all the teams will be prepared for their games with the Phillies. Here's hoping the new additions this year to go along with the best players from last year....will give the Phillies a chance to make it into the World Series. Hey, I'm not getting any younger.....so they need to make a move as soon as possible so I can have a chance to cheer on my Phillies to a victory in the World Series. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Thursday, July 18, 2024
Tuesday, July 16, 2024
The "Fossil Museum Explores Origin Of Feces!" Story
It was an ordinary day. Writing today about, of all things, poop. Story began in Williams, Arizona with.....One way to help tell how a Tyrannosaurus rex ingested food is to look at its poop! Bone fragments in a piece of fossilized excrement at a new museum in northern Arizona - aptly called the Poozeum - are among the tinier bits of evidence that indicate T. rex wasn't much of a chewer, but rather swallowed whole chunks of osprey. The sample is one of more than 7,000 on display at the museum that opened this past May in Williams, a town known for its Wild West shows along Route 66, wildlife attractions and a railway to Grand Canyon National Park. The Poozeum sign fetters a bright green T rex cartoon character sitting on a toilet to grab attention from the buzzing neon lights and muffled 1950s music emanating from other businesses. Inside, display cases filled with coprolites - fossilized feces from animals that lived millions of years ago - line the walls. They range from minuscule termite droppings to a massive specimen that weighs 20 pounds. Poozeum's president and curator, George Frandsen, bought his first chunk of fossilized feces from a shop in Moab, Utah, when he was 18, he said. He already loved dinosaurs and fossils, but had never heard of fossilized poop. From there, his fascination grew. "It was funny. It was gross," he said. "But I learned very quickly it could tell us so much about our prehistoric past and how important they are to the fossil record." Fossil enthusiast Brandee Reynolds recently visited the museum with her husband after finding it was a short detour from a road trip they had planned. "I mostly find sharp teeth and things like that," she said. "But, who doesn't love coprolite?" A highlight of Frandsen's collection is a specimen that holds a Guinness World Record for being the largest coprolite left by a carnivorous animal. Measuring more than 2 feet long and over 6 inches wide. And...I'm sorry that this is where my story ends today. There are no photos other than the one of President and curator George Frandsen who is posing in the "Poozeum" in Williams, Arizona. I just couldn't find it in me to post photos of poop! I believe you all know what that looks like anyway. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
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| Mr. George Frandsen |
Memories From An Old Classmate Come Alive....Once Again
It was an ordinary day. Sunday, and I was searching my Sunday morning newspaper for a story that might be of interest to you. Didn't take long before I found it in the "Living" section of my Sunday News. It was posted in the "I Know A Story" column. Today's story was titled "He remembers geography class, cotillions of yesteryear." Story was written by John Hoober. Now...wait a minute...I said to myself. John Hoober? I know that guy. Graduated from high school with John...except we never called him John...we called him "Bones"... since he was one of the few guys in my graduating class that was skinnier than I was. And...as soon as I began reading the story, I knew I had the right guy. His story read:
I grew up in a modest, two-story brick home on East Roseville Road - at the south end, which is now the Bloomingdale development. When we moved there in the late 1940s, the development was all farmers' fields and open space. We played a lot of football and baseball in an empty lot attached to our backyard. I remember one of my foul balls broke a neighbor's window, which didn't go over too well with my parents. Both sets of grandparents lived just a few bocks from each other on East Clay and North Duke streets. Colin's ice cream parlor at Duke and New Streets was an easy walk. I loved to stay overnight with them on Fridays and watch "Covered Wagon Theatre" and Gabby Hayes on Saturday mornings on their black-and-white Sylvania. The Hoot Gibson, Ken Maynard and Bob Steele episodes were my favorite. I went to Brecht Elementary and Manheim Township High School, where all six grades (seven through 12) were held in a single, overcrowded building. Some classes had to be held in the cafeteria, the Neffsville fire hall and the basement of Neff Elementary. My favorite class.....Mrs. Druckenbrod's seventh grade geography. Throughout the year, she gave us mimeographed maps of every continent with the countries or states outlined and we had to draw in their names, capital cities and features such as major rivers, lakes, mountain ranges and adjoining seas-- using encyclopedias as the information source. The more detailed your map was, the higher your grade was. Through this, I learned where every place in the world was, which was invaluable as I grew older. I imagine if you ask many high schoolers today where the Himalayan Mountains or Adriatic Sea or Cambodia are, it would draw a blank until they pulled out their iPhones. The favorite after-school stop was "The Joint" restaurant, which was where Carusos's is now located. Before school we often bought 5-cent packets of bubble gum and baseball cards at Patches store next to school property at Lititz Pike and Valley Road. I became a Philly sports fan at an early age. My first visit to Connie Mack Stadium was on a mid-summer night, and I watched Robin Roberts pitch a neat game from our $2.25 box seats. Another summer memory was hearing the jingle of the good Humor truck in our neighborhood and rushing to the driver to get a good-sized ice cream cone for a dime. Finally, do any of you remember Junior Cotillion evenings at the Stevens House on South Prince Street, where Mr. Escot taught us young high schoolers ballroom dancing, and the chaperones kept looking for those responsible for throwing atom pearls (mini explosives) on the dance floor? Coat and tie, with gloves and fine dresses were a must. Like many others, I couldn't wait until the session was over. The author lives in Lititz and is a retired reporter for the former Lancaster New Era.
PS...John...or should I say 'Bones', your story in the Sunday News brought back so many memories, since I was part of some of your story being that we were in the same classes together at good ole Brecht Elementary and MTHS. I just hope we didn't offend you too much, since we called you "Bones." If you remember...I was almost as skinny as you were.....but you were an inch or two taller which made you look skinnier (if that's a word). Thanks for all the memories you wrote in your story. I remember each and every one of them...except that I got caught throwing a penny at one of the girls in our math class. She was mad, since it wasn't a dime! It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Monday, July 15, 2024
Glad To Hear It...3 Stories To Make Your Day
It was an ordinary day. Turned the page and discovered three interesting stories that I thought you might enjoy. So..... pick one, or perhaps two, or go ahead and read all three...they certainly aren't that long....
Story #1 - Under Milkweed: For years, Robyn Elman has raised endangered monarch butterflies in her New York City backyard by collecting their eggs from milkweed plants -- the only food monarchs eat -- alongside highways. But too often, instead of healthy plants, she found mowed stubs and obliterated eggs. She and a fellow enthusiast contacted Frank Coniglio, the city's director of arterial highway maintenance, urging him to cut the butterflies a break. Over and over again. "At first, I was skeptical," he told the New York Times. But then he got it: "What happens to the butterflies is going to happen to us, right?" So Coniglio went to work on not mowing. By the end of last summer, about 20 milkweed patches were protected throughout the city. "We're dong something positive," says Coniglio proudly.
Story #2 - To Grandma's House We Go - In 2021, Sam Crowe was eating breakfast with high school friends in a St. Louis, Missouri, diner when he proclaimed, "My grandma cooks better than this." So starting the next week, and every Wednesday morning during the school year, Peggy Winckowski happily proved her grandson correct by cooking a feast for him and the other kids. In 2022, Sam was killed in a hit-and-run. Grandma Peggy was devastated. Wanting to be there for her, Crowe's friends showed up for breakfast as usual the following Wednesday. And they've been showing up every Wednesday after that. "Wednesday is my favorite day of the week," Winckowski told the Washington Post. "I will feed them as long as they will come."
Story #3 - I Spy with My Little Eye ... Alaska's Katmai National Park is dotted with cameras that let wildlife lovers view brown bears online. But last September, a human showed up on the camera instead. Wet from the rain and looking weary, the hiker faced the camera and mouthed, "Help me." The camera, situated 2 miles from the nearest trail, is in rugged, inhospitable terrain. It's easy to get lost there. Luckily, a viewer posted below the feed, "There is someone distresssed on the camera." That message reached a park ranger, who dispatched a search-and-rescue team. Within hours, the hiker was found. A park ranger told NPR, "Our webcam viewers don't miss much."
Not much for today...but, hope you enjoyed the stories. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Sunday, July 14, 2024
The "Richest Man in Idaho" Story
It was an ordinary day. Just picked up my latest issue of "The Fishwrapper" at Stauffer's of Kissel Hill. "The Fishwrapper" is a publication of Little Montain Printing and comes out once a week and is usually distributed at grocery stores. I so much enjoy reading the 20 page weekly circulation since it carries so many interesting stories, both fact and fiction. The story I will share with you today in a fictional story titled "The Richest Man In Idaho" and doesn't list an author...at least I couldn't find an author to share with you. It began with.... During the waning years of the depression, in a small southeastern Idaho community, I used to stop by Mr. Miller's roadside stand for farm-fresh produce as the season made it available. Food and money were still extremely scarce and bartering was used extensively. One particular day, Mr. Miller was bagging some early potatoes for me. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily appeasing a basket of freshly picked green peas. I paid for my potatoes, but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller and the ragged boy next to me. "Hello Barry, how are you today?" "H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas--sure look good." "They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?" "Fine. Gittin' stronger all' time." "Good. Anything I can help you with?" "No, sir. jus' admirin' them peas." "Would you like to take some home?" "No, sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with." "We,.... what have you to trade me for some of those peas?" "All I got's my prize marble here." "Is that right? Let me see it." "Here 'tis. She' a dandy." "I can see that, Hmmmmm, only this is, this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?" "Not 'zackley . . . but, almost." "Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you, and next trip this way let me look at that red marble." "Sure will. Thanks, Mr. Miller." Mrs. Miller, who'd been standing nearby, came over to help me. With a smile she said, "There are two other boys like him in our community; all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever. When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he'll decide he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or a orange one, perhaps." I left the stand, smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Utah, but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering. Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community, and while I was there, learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his viewing that evening and, knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon our arrival at the viewing, we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased, and to offer whatever words of comfort we could. Ahead of us in line were three young men. All three wore nice haircuts, dark suits, and white shirts -- very professional looking. They approached Mrs. Miller, standing, smiling, and composed by here husband's casket. Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her, and moved on to the casket. Her misty light blue eyes followed then as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each one left, awkwardly wiping his eyes. Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and mentioned the story she had told me about the marbles. Eyes glistened, she took my hand and led me to the casket. "Those three young men that just left, were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim "traded" them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size, they came to pay their debt. We've never had a great deal of the wealth in this world," she confided, "but, right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho." And with loving gentleness, she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three, magnificently shiny, red marbles. Amen! It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Saturday, July 13, 2024
The "A Letter To Michael J. Fox" Story
It was an ordinary day. Reading about Michael J. Fox's battle with Parkinson's which began in 1991. The actor was on location in Florida filming the movie "Doc Hollywood" when he began to notice a persistent "twitch" in his left pinkie that just wouldn't go away. In six months, the twitch had spread to his entire hand, and for some reason, his shoulder had become stiff. After consulting neurologist and undergoing tests, the 30-year-old was told that he was suffering from the early stages of Parkinson's disease.. Further tests and more opinions confirmed the diagnosis. For years he kept his symptoms private. His career progressed, and so did his disease. Eventually, the tremors affected his entire left side, becoming so uncontrollable at times that, he later told a reporter, he "could mix a margarita in five seconds." In September of 1998 he went public with his Parkinson's, talking candidly about his private seven-year battle with the disease. "For those seven years, I had kept my P.D. close, as I'd been taught to keep all my enemies close. That was how I viewed the disease. I'd make it a private battle, a knife fight in a dark closet. I already had the understanding of my wife, Tracy, our kids; our extended family; and the unflinching support of friends, doctors, and co-workers. What I craved was the company of other people with Parkinson's and the freedom to move around in the world without having to hide my symptoms. I don't kid myself ... that will change. Physical and mental exhaustion will become more and more of a factor, as will increased rigidity, tremor, and dyskinesia. I can expect my 40s to face challenges most wouldn't expect until their 70s or 80s, if ever." Well, Michael, I wish you the best in the future. I am going to be reaching my 80s in another month and find it gets harder and harder to walk without being hunched over due to a constant pain in my back. I've been told that will probably never go away and to get used to it. I can put up with the pain, but I feel so self-conscious that I have to be bent over most of the time. Makes me look and feel like I'm an old man. But, than again, that is what in reality I really am. I wish you the best Michael and hope you can still have many good years of life left in you. You are much younger than me and deserve to live a much better life than you are now. If.....only they could find a treatment for you. Best Wishes....LDub! Its was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Friday, July 12, 2024
"The Bells In Spain Speak Once Again", Story
It was an ordinary day. Reading in my Lancaster Newspaper about "The Bells in Spain speak again!" Story has a subtitle which reads..."As students learn an ancient lost language used in ringing church bells." Got me thinking about when I was a choirboy at St. James Episcopal Church in downtown Lancaster and sang in the church choir. The organist and choir director was a gentleman named Frank McConnell. Fantastic musician as well as choir director! He would allow me to turn pages from time to time when he was giving recitals at St. James. I was also allowed to climb the church steeple from inside, just to see how the bells were attached inside the steeple. My guess is that my dad was one of Mr. McConnell's good friends and we even invited Mr. McConnell to supper from time to time, ........so I was allowed to climb the steeple from within. Well, my story today is about the students who learned an ancient lost language that was used in the ringing of the church bells. Story took place in Joanetes, Spain. Began with .... Xavier Pallás, who plants his feet on the belfry floor, grips the rope, and with one tug fills the lush Spanish Valley below with the reverberating peal of a church bell. Clang-clong! CLANG-CLONG! The swinging bronze bell resonates with each strike of the clapper, filling the small stone tower with an undulating hum. Once Pallás finishes his peals, silence returns to the tower, giving the valley's soundscape back to the bird songs and rooster crows. Pallás and his 18 students at the Fall d'en Bas School of Bell Ringers are trying to resuscitate the art of tolling - and communicating - by hand. If played with the know-how, the sounding of church bells in various sequences, tones and rhythms can signal the time for rejoicing or mourning and when to run to the aid of a neighbor in need. "For centuries, the tolling of church bells was our most important communication method," said Pallas, standing inside the belfry that doubles as his classroom. "Machines cannot reproduce the richness of the sounds that we used to hear so there has been a simplification and unification of bell ringing. The language has been lost little by little until now, when we are finally recognizing its worth." A physically demanding job that required long hours and complete dedication, to be a bell-ringer was to be a human clock and the public loudspeaker. While manual church bell ringing has persisted in Eastern Orthodox countries, it has largely been replaced by bell ringing systems in Western Europe. Pallás' research included the 12th century Saint Romà church in Joanetes, a tiny village about two hours north of Barcelona, where Pallàs has spent the past 10 months teaching the inaugural class one Saturday a month. "Since the last generation of bell-ringers had died off, the only thing to do was to train new ones in how to toll the bells. And, that's where the idea of the school was born," Pallàs said. The bell-ringing course, officially recognized by the ISCREB theology school in Barcelona, finished last week with a demonstration by the class. All drawn to the allure of the banging bells, the students were men and women with diverse professional backgrounds ranging from engineering to teaching. One was in his 20s; several were retirees. Roser Sauri jumped at the chance to reconnect with her childhood by recovering and playing the chiming sequence that had sounded in her grandfather's village when he was baptized. "The bells formed a part of my life," said Sauri, who now works in artificial intelligence. She missed their constancy while studying for her computing doctorate in Boston, where she heard none. The students took turns tolling sequences for everyone from calls to Easter Mass, bad weather warnings, help for fighting a fire to orders for the village militia. They also could tell workers to get back to reaping wheat, or housewives when the fresh fish was coming to market and even how much it cost. Many of the ringers wore earplugs or headphones to muffle the deafening peals. The students tolled a gamut of death announcements that could specify gender and social class. Juan Charles Osuna and two others tolled for the death of a woman. That meant swinging the largest bell, at 945 pounds. It still had a clapper secured in the traditional method of using a dried skin of an ox penis. Osuna, who paints church murals, also performed a complex sequence with all four of belfry's bells that required him to sit in a chair with ropes looped around his hands and feet.
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| Sitting in a chair with ropes looped around both feet and hands, Juan Carles Osuna, a student of the Fall d'en Bas School of Bell Ringers, performs playing all four bronze bells at the church bell tower of the 120th-century Sant Romá Church, at the village of Joanetes, about two hours north of Barcelona, Spain. |
"Whew! It's an emotional experience. You feel your blood pumping. You feel the strength, and how you are communicating with everyone in earshot," he said. "For me it is an honor, it's a way to honor both humans and God." But, for me...it was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Thursday, July 11, 2024
James Patterson: The novelist turned biographer focuses on one of golf's greats!
It was an ordinary day. Reading about one of my favorite authors, James Patterson. Mr. Patterson has written hundreds of books, many of which have been bestsellers and adapted for movies and television. And...he did it all with a pencil in hand...no computer or even a typewriter for this 77-year-old. Now...I must confess that all my stories that I post to my website have all been typed on my computer. But...then again...my stories are usually a page or two long and not a book long. Mr. Patterson has found success with novels, children's books as well as co-writing a few books with famous faces, like President Clinton and Dolly Parton. Now James is taking on a real life sports phenom in his new, unauthorized biography, Tiger, Tiger, which is billed as "a hole-in-one thriller." In it he explores the rises and falls of one of the world's greatest golfers: Tiger Woods (sorry to say not a relative of mine even though we share the same "sir" name). Jeanne Wolf recently questioned James with three questions. The following are the responses that she managed to get from Mr. Patterson.
1. Jeanne: You witnessed "Tigermania" as you put together your book. What was it that propelled Tiger to the top and then nearly destroyed him?
James Patterson: His father, Earl, was present throughout his life. He helped Tiger work on his game and his mental toughness. What was fascinating was that his mother was also a major influence. Tilda was of the "Go out there and kill them; you must crush them" school. As a result, Tiger was nothing if not competitive. By the time he entered his 20s, he really hadn't experienced life. He hadn't dated much before he got married. He was very sheltered. But, Tiger overcame a lot of growing up. He was so nearsighted he was practically legally blind and had to wear thick corrective "Coke Bottle" lenses. Kids teased him by calling him Uriel. At school and on white dominated golf courses, he was stared at and called names because he was Black. Yet, even now, he's got that competitive edge.
2. Jeanne: Tiger had a pretty hefty price to pay for fame. I've never heard you say that it's hard to be a public figure. Has success made you a target too?
James Patterson: I grew up in a small town, so one of my blessings is that I still look at the world through the eyes of this kid from Newburgh, New York. I try to be as positive as I can, but not naive. If reviews of my books are negative but fair and honest, that's okay. I might learn something from them. I advise making a list of all the stuff that really irritates and makes you see red. Then, the things you can't do something about, you just cross off the list and forget about them. But do work at what you can help fix.
3. Jeanne: You said of Tiger, he tried to keep his career afloat, "Sometimes you can't think and swing at the same time." Is that true of you, too?
James Patterson: Unfortunately, I have not mastered that myself. I think way too much. I'm in competition with myself, trying to make my next book the best one, but you always hope it's going to be great. I came across this quote: "My time here is short. What can I do most beautifully?" That really drives my choices now. I feel it is mostly to be a good husband, a good dad, and to write stories. I can't imagine my life without writing.
Jeanne Wolf is the Post's West Coast editor. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
The "How About A Game Of Pool...or Perhaps You Call It Billiards
It was an ordinary day. Walking the steps to the second level in Woodcrest Villa's Viva Center for a few games of pool...or as my good friend, Dale would says...billards. There are two locations on the campus where you can play pool, but many of the residents choose the main building where they can be found on the second level, directly at the top of the stairwell. There are two full-sized pool tables that are in great condition. Many times there is a large gathering of pool sharks whom pair up so that more can play at one time. For some strange reason, the second table is very seldom used, even though it is in just as good a condition as the main pool table. Dale and I often will take the cover off the 2nd pool table and play a few games of pool to avoid the large group of players who are waiting their turn to play on the main pool table. I hadn't played pool for years when I first moved to Woodcrest Villa. My youngest son, Tad, had a pool table in his home and at times I would play a game or two...but that's probably 20 years ago. It is the same pool table that he had purchased when he lived with his mother and I on Harrington Drive in the Manheim Township section of Lancaster County. We had it placed in our basement where we spent many an evening playing pool. Then, when he moved into his own home, he took the table with him. Well, Dale and I are about to begin another game of pool, or should I say billiards, so it is time to call it quits with the typing. Follow along with the photos of the majority of the players who live at Woodcrest Villa. Sorry if I missed getting a photo of a few of the regulars. I'll try again...sometime! It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
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| Jerry |
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| Ron |
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| Ned |
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| Rich |
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| Dale |
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| Joe |
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| Yours truly...Larry |
Wednesday, July 10, 2024
The "Heat Wave In Lancaster County Drags On," Story!
It was an ordinary day. Looking at my morning newspaper when I opened to page A11 and the headline on the top left read..."Heat Wave Here Drags On." Story went on to say... Lancaster County's second heat wave of the year reached its sixth day on Tuesday, and forecasters say it's likely to continue into a seventh day. Tuesday's recorded high of 96 degrees marked the sixth consecutive day of 90-degree temperatures in the county. Forecasters with the National Weather Service predict a high of 96 again today, which would mark the first seven-day heat wave since July 2022. And, according to Millersville University's Weather Information Center, the current heat wave is more extreme and dangerous. The highest temperature during the heat wave in 2022 was 94 degrees, while the lowest daily high temperature during the current heat wave was 93 on July 4, according to the weather information center. Overnight lows during the 2022 heat wave were roughly in the upper 60s to low 70s, while lows this week have mostly been in the mid-to upper 70s. The county has been under a heat advisory since Monday; it remains in effect until 8 p.m. today. Heat advisories are issued when the heat index - how hot the air feels when humidity is factored in - exceeds 100 degrees. The heat wave likely will last through Thursday, with a forecast high of 91, according to the national Weather Service, but the heat should break a bit Friday, with a high of 84. Parts of the county also have been experiencing drought conditions since July 2, with the central part of the county in a moderate drought and the rest experiencing abnormally dry conditions, a stage just short of a drought. When it comes to rain, the county's first chance of measurable precipitation this month comes this afternoon into tonight with the passing of Hurricane Beryl's remnants, according to the weather information center. The storm is predicted to move into the eastern Great Lakes region today and reach northern New Enland by Thursday, bringing a weak cold front with showers and thunderstorms across northern Maryland and the Lower Susquehanna Valley. The rainfall isn't expected to overcome the drought, as the weather information center said most areas should see only a quarter or half an inch of rain. Here's hoping we get some rain soon! Our grass is brown and the trees are beginning to darken in color with their leaves looking as if they are ready to fall. Too early in the year for that to happen! But...what can we do? Absolutely Nothing! It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
The "Church Gets 1st Millennial Saint" Story
It was an ordinary day. Reading about a young man named Carlo Acutis who was recently recognized by Pope Francis as the first saint of the millennial generation in the history of the Catholic Church. The title of the story of Carlo read "Church gets 1st millennial Saint." The sub-head read "God's influencer' who died in his teens, gets approved for canonization!" In the Catholic faith, sainthood is reserved for those who have lived a life of heroic virtues, acted as a martyr or taken part in miracles. The designation typically comes after the person has been dead for decades, even hundreds of years. That changed last week, when Pope Francis recognized the first saint of the millennial generation in the history of the Catholic Church. His name is Carlo Acutis, famed for internet evangelizing that earned him the nickname "God's Influencer." The crowning achievement of the 15-year-old Italian, who died in 2006, was cataloging a database of miracles, which he used to spread the message of Catholic faith. Acutis was born in London to Italian parents and later lived in Italy, but his impact in the Catholic community is felt worldwide, including in Miami. In 2022, the Servants of the Pierced Hearts of Jesus and Mary, a religious institute in the Archdiocese of Miami, organized a two-day conference that featured an exhibit of the "miracle" database created by the young website designer. The multilingual exhibit featured Arcutis' research of what are known as Eucharist miracles: Defined by the church as extraordinary events involving the Eucharist, or what the church believes is the body and blood of Christ, and the ritual commemorating Jesus' Last Supper. Acutis chronicled 164 such events from all over the world in his digital database. Acutis devoted his life to the church and had a fascination with the Eucharist from a very young age, famously referring to it as his "highway to heaven." The event in Miami included a life-size, life-like statue of Acutis, where visitors could pray. Young people, at the request of the Archdiocese, attended the exhibit dressed in a polo shirt and jeans - an homage to his signature style. Pope Francis and a group of cardinals approved the canonization - the last step in the process of becoming a saint - of Acutis and 14 others last week at a meeting at the Vatican, according to Vatican News, paving the way for Acutis to be proclaimed a saint at some point in 2025, during the church's jubilee year. The years-long process of becoming a saint includes three stages: first a candidate becomes "Venerable," then "Blessed" and then "Saint." For Acutis, this process began in 2013 when the pope named him a "Servant of God." Acutis was designated "venerable" in 2018 and was declared "beatified" or "blessed" by the church in 2020 during a live-streamed Mass in Assisi, Italy, according to Vatican News, making him the first "beatified" person to ever go viral. The Vatican says the first miracle attributed to Acutis was when he was said to have interceded from heaven in 2013 to save the life of a Brazilian child who was suffering from a rare pancreatic disease. The second miracle attributed to Acutis came from a woman from Costa Rica who prayed at his tomb in Assisi after suffering severe head trauma. The woman, who doctors said had a low chance of survival, was said to have healed miraculously after praying for Acutis to intercede, according to Vatican News. Acutis was a normal, popular boy with a good sense of humor, according to his mother, Antonia Saldana, who gave an interview during the Miami exhibit in 2022. Salzanio said her son had a way of sharing his faith with people without being overly pushy. She said she saw this in the way he spoke to his friends and classmates. Acutis died of a brain aneurysm at the age of 15, on Oct. 12, 2006 - just 10 days after being diagnosed with an aggressive form of leukemia. Sister Ana M. Lanza of the Servants of the Pierced Hearts in Miami said Acutis' use of technology - something that is so often used to spread hate - can bring a positive message to young people. "Carlo Acutis is a young man that can bring the question in their hearts," she said. "That, yes, there is hope. If he did it, I can do it. If he was joyful in the midst of sickness, I can be joyful." It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy. Carlo Acutis
Tuesday, July 9, 2024
The "Gettin' Rid Of The Junk" Story
It was an ordinary day. Reading my latest Saturday Evening Post when I came upon an article titled "Swedish Death Cleaning." Now....if you subscribe to the Post, you more than likely have read the article, but for those who haven't read it and for those who don't subscribe to the magazine, I'll tell you about "decluttering like there's no tomorrow!" The article talks about Swedish "dosadning", literally "death cleaning." It tells how after Swedes turn 60, they start to get rid of stuff by giving it to people in their 20s. As if those in their 20's want something that belonged to someone in their 60s. Doing so is known as "death cleaning." I'm sorry to say I never heard of that, and really don't want to hear much about it. The writer of the story, Phillip Gulley, said that what is meant by "death cleaning" is beginning to get rid of your "stuff", not his wife's "stuff", most notably his bicycles, which she thought were three too many, pointing out I could only ride one at a time. He got his first bicycle 58 years ago when his father cobbled one together from parts he'd found at the town dump. He'd managed to acquire three more and now his wife wants him to give most of them to some young whippersnapper who is perfectly capable of getting a job and buying his own bicycle. Then a day later his wife asked him how many pocketknives he had. He said that he had been judiciously collecting pocketknives since he was a senior in high school and now has a superb collection she apparently wants to pass on to perfect strangers who will do God knows what with them. Not even the Swedes let just anyone have a pocketknife. This whole venture strikes me as un-American, an affront to our custom of amassing barns full of stuff to leave to our children after we're dead, and not a moment before. It is then, while sorting through the useful items we've entrusted to their care - used Tupperware, mixers with one beater, tablecloths with coffee rings, and slightly used tooth-brushes, perfect for cleaning the ink-fouled letters on the manual typewriter we'll also leave them - that they will come to appreciate our foresight and savvy. The Swedes aren't doing their young people any favors by burdening them with their cast-offs, when all they want to do is travel and see the world, but now can't, having to deal with their parents' junk while their parents are still alive, hovering over them, telling them the value and history of each item, forbidding its disposal. Their description of this custom, intending to sound noble, is in fact deceptive. It is not "death cleaning," because they are not dead, indeed are nowhere near death, and should therefore keep their stuff instead of pawning it off on those least prepared to deal with it. Perhaps a new custom is in need. One where when the parents die, their children can pick through the stuff that remains, selecting a few cherished or needed items. The rest of it can be heaped on the lawns, our bodies placed on top, and the entire shebang set on fire. That's something the Vikings used to do that rarely gets mentioned these days: Toss the dead warriors on a ship, push it out to sea, and set it on fire. Problem solved. No more family heirlooms to deal with, no more boxes filling our garages and basements, and no more standing in line for half a day at Antiques Roadshow to discover that our great-grandfather's chamber pot is only worth $15. This is probably the best idea I've ever had, and if you want to call it "Gulley Death Cleaning," that's fine with me. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Monday, July 8, 2024
The "Just One More Willie Story...Than I'll Quit!" Story
It was an ordinary day. Reading a story posted in my Sunday News "I KNOW A STORY" article titled "Longtime fan had a memorable meeting with Willie Mays." Story was submitted by a fellow named Ed Flick. Began with...In 1951, I was a 10-year-old boy living on East Ross Street in Lancaster. I loved baseball and I used to play imaginary games in my room using a spitball. Willie Mays' rookie year for the New York Giants was 1951. He was my favorite player, so I became a New York Giant baseball fan. And, I remained a New York/San Francisco Giant baseball fan for 73 years. Of course, I took a lot of grief from Phillies fans. In June 2004 I was employed by Fulton Bank. One of our affiliate banks was Hagerstown Trust. I had an appointment with the bank president, Don Harsh, to call on a customer. We started talking baseball and he told held me he was a Baltimore Orioles fan and I told him I was a San Francisco Giants fan. He told me that Willie Mays was coming to the Clarion Hotel in Hagerstown, Maryland, on August 9, and asked if I would like to hear him speak. Would I? Of course I would! He had been my favorite player since 1951. I had read in Willie's biography, "Say Hey," that when he played his first professional baseball game, at age 19, it was for the Trenton Giants against the Hagerstown Braves on June 20, 1954. He said that Hagerstown was the worst for racial prejudice of anyplace he had ever played, and he would never return there. He was forced to stay at the all-Black Harmon Hotel. Several of the white players on the team came to visit him. Now, 54 years later he was invited back to Hagerstown. After inviting me to hear Willie speak, Don Harsh called me again and asked if I would like to go to see Willie throw out the first pitch at the Hagerstown Tourists game. I was on vacation in Lewes, Delaware, that week, but was only too happy to make the drive to see Willie throw out the first pitch. The street in front of Municipal Stadium was to be renamed Willie Mays Way in his honor. Now, two weeks before I was going to hear Willie speak, I received another phone call from Don Harsh. He told me he had it arranged that I will be meeting Willie Mays and he will autograph sports items for me. Now, that day had arrived and I am sitting in the lobby of the Clarion Hotel, wearing my San Francisco Giants hat. Willie walked toward me and I got to have a one-on-one conversation with him. I told him that he was my favorite player and that I have been a longtime Giants fan. During our conversation he was a perfect gentleman. I had brought with me a photo, baseball cards and a baseball to be autographed. I joined the line to have him sign my memorabilia. We were told we could only have one item signed. When it was my turn in line I gave Willie an 8-by-10 photo of him in a New York Giants uniform and I asked him where this photo was taken. He told me it was spring training in Phoenix, Arizona, in 1954. As I was leaving, Willie whispered to me, "After I am done signing for everyone, come back and I will autograph your baseball." And he did! About one week later, I received in the mail a 9-by-12 photograph of Willie and me, which now sits on my desk - a reminder of a very special day for me, Aug. 9, 2004. The author lives in West Lampeter Township. Baseball great Willie Mays died June 18, 2024.
If only that had been me! Willie was my all-time favorite baseball player and I find it hard to imagine being that close to him and being able to talk with him...well, I envy Mr. Ed Flick so much. I'm sure he realizes how lucky he was to get to meet, talk with, and have autographs signed by Willie Mays, perhaps the greatest baseball player who ever played the game of baseball. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
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| Willie making his famous over-the-shoulder catch! |
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| Willie Mays...The Say Hey! Kid |
"Heard Any Good Jokes?" Story
It was an ordinary day. Reading a short story in my latest "Reader's Digest" Magazine that I just had to share with you to make your work week a happy one. Story was titled "Heard Any Good Jokes?" and followed with.....There's an old pay phone in Washington, D.C., where, if you press a button, you can hear a gag like this: "How does the polygamist hippie count his wives? 'One Mrs. Hippie, two Mrs. Hippie ..." The voice belongs to Don Rutledge, a teacher and the creator of the "Jokes Phone". Because he thought it would be fun, Rutledge, who lives nearby, bought the phone online, replaced its guts with a computer and placed it on the street. Press #1 (it's free!) to hear a knock-knock joke or #2 for a kids joke. Pressing #5 plays fun facts. You can also press #0 to chat with "a random guy who thinks he has all the answers." That guy is Rutledge, who told Washingtonian that callers often are "freaked out that somebody actually answers," so they hang up. "But sometimes they stay on, and I just talk to them." Now...how neat is that! I'd love to talk to a guy who can brighten my day as evidently Don can do. I'd certainly give it a try if I lived near the phone! It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Former Lancaster Publisher Broke Declaration Story!
It was an ordinary day. Reading a story posted in my local newspaper by Jack Brubaker, known to all as "The Scribbler." Story began with...On Thursday, Americans will celebrate precisely 248 years since a Congress of upstart colonists adopted the Declaration of Independence on Thursday, July 4, 1776. A Philadelphia newspaper published by a German-American journalist scooped all others in announcing the existence of the Declaration on Friday, July 5. The publisher, Heinrich Miller, previously had produced Lancaster's first notable paper. Miller and Samuel Holland published Die Lancastersche Zeitung, or The Lancaster Gazette, in 1752. The publication had the backing of Philadelphia publisher Benjamin Franklin. Printed somewhere on King Street, the Zeitung printed news in both German and English in side-by-side columns. The paper lasted only a few months, and Miller returned to Philadelphia before it folded. In 1762, he began publishing a new paper there. Miller's Philadelphia paper, Heinrich Miller's Pennsylvanischer Staatsbote (Heinrich Miller's Pennsylvania Staatsbote (Heinrich Miller's Pennsylvania Courier), carried the first news of the Declaration. "Yesterday, the honorable Congress of these Western Lands, declared the United Colonies free and independent states," Miller's paper reported, as translated from the German. Miller announced the news story of the century before anyone else because his paper was the only Philadelphia publication printed on Fridays. Other newspapers waited until their day of weekly or semiweekly publication. Such restraint is difficult to imagine in a time of incessantly breaking news. The delay also was notable in 1776 because Philadelphia enjoyed six major, primarily English-language, newspapers in a highly competitive market. Miller beat them all. Born Johann Heinrich Muller in Germany in 1702, Miller worked as a printer before emigrating to Pennsylvania in 1741. He helped Franklin produce the Pennsylvanian Gazette. Eventually, Franklin supported Miller's publication of the bilingual Zeitung. Although that paper did not last long, Franklin and Miller remained determined to keep German readers as informed as the English population. Miller's Pennsylvanianischer Staatabote, originally a weekly paper, began publishing twice a week during the Revolution. So, the publisher printed news of the Declaration on July 5 and a full German-languge translation of the Declaration on July 9. The British forced Miller to flee Philadelphia when they occupied the city in September 1777. After the British left, he resumed publishing the Staatsbotr until he retired in 1779. He died in 1782, at the age of 80. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Sunday, July 7, 2024
The Neighborhood Twins Are All Grown Up!
It was an ordinary day. Reading the story about the Campagna twins that was recently published in my local LNP newspaper. The Campagna family lived across the street from my wife and myself when we lived in Manheim Township. I had both Scott and Shannon, the mother and father Campagna's, as students in my class when I taught at Manheim Township High School in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. Scott and my son Derek played baseball together at Manheim Township. Scott and Shannon married a few years after they had graduated and raised their family across the street from Carol and myself. The entire family was extremely athletic, but their twins Brenna and Calli were involved in just about any female sport that Manheim Township High School sponsored. One of their biggest sports was field hockey. Brenna recently had a 1/4 page photo of herself published in the LNP morning newspaper. The caption under the photo read: Manheim Township's Brenna Campagna is one of LNP/LancasterOnline's Athlete of the Year finalists for the 2023-24 school year. The MT field hockey coach, Jess Shellenberger, wrote..."This year she was the one. If you were scouting Manheim Township, you had to respect Brenna Campagna. There's no question what a force she was in the middle of the field." The article in the morning newspaper began with a story from early in the season with.... Brenna Campagna's frustration kept growing as her team fell behind. Manheim Township was a rising field hockey power. On this day, the Blue Streaks weren't playing like one. "Can I say something?" Campagna asked coach Jess Shellenberger during a team huddle. The answer was "yes". Of course she could. The senior was a two-time captain. Someone who competed so hard and invested so much...her teammates had no choice but to listen. The moment remains striking nine months later. Campagna usually led by example. The time she led with her voice. She let everyone know this effort wasn't good enough. "That was the first big team we played that season," Campagna said. "I was like, 'Go out and try as hard as you can.' If you fail, that's much better than running away from the ball and being scared." At the time, Township was trailing Palmarya 2-0 when Campagna gave her speech on September 21. The game ended in a 2-2 tie. Campagna pulled the Blue Steaks even with a penalty stroke with 40 seconds left. That was the catalyst for a season of firsts. First Lancaster-Lebanon League championship, First District Three Class 3A championship, and first trip to the PIAA finals. Those inspiring words spoken during the Palmarya game must have done the trick. "That moment was huge for us," Shellenberger said. She used her influence over that group, put the team on her back and said, "Let's freaking do this." That's the player that she was from that point forward. Breanna, one of LNP/LancatereOnline's three finalists for Female Athlete of the Year, became an All-American in the center midfield. Township only lost twice last season, including a heartbreaker against Emmaus for the state gold medal. After the long bus ride home from Cumberland Valley that day, with the runner-up trophy riding shotgun, Shellenberger asked the 10 seniors to stay behind when the rest of the team was dismissed. The veteran coach thanked them with tears in her eyes. "Look what you did," coach said. "You put this program on the map." Campagna was vital to that emergence. Brenna's twin sister and her were born 45 minutes apart. Calli arrived first. Brenna took her time before finally joining her sister in the world. Mom said that was a sign of things to come. Even though they weren't identical, they've always had a shared identity. If I happened to be out on my riding mower, mowing my lawn, when the twins left their house across the street from me, I could never tell one from the other. They would both always wave to me as I was riding my mower. It was said that even their mannerisms made it difficult to tell them apart. Brenna wore No. 2 and put her hair into a bun while Calli wore No. 3 and put her hair in a ponytail with a braid. They were best friends from the moment their sports journey began. Actually from the day they were born. Not many times that I didn't see the two of them leave their house together. "It's been so much fun to experience this with someone right by your side the whole time," Calli said. "To a lot of people, we're just twins. It's cool to be identified with her and all of her successes." They eventually had to choose their sport of the future with Calli heading to the University of Cincinnati to play lacrosse while Brenna will play field hockey for Wake Forest. The only bad thing about this is they have never been separated for more than four days in their life. Gonna be a hard time for their first week or so apart. "It's one of those late-night thoughts that you have," Brenna said, "I'm not going to see her for months at a time. I think its's time we became our own individual selves." They'll text constantly and try to FaceTime every day. They'll watch each other on a livestream and remain connected in every way they can. I suspect it will take at least a year apart before they realize how much they mean to each other! The girls are the youngest of the five children of Scott and Shannon. They've been handed the same wonderful gift: a chance to be excel in their own sport. And...I'm sure they will make the best of that chance. Think Mom and Dad will miss them when they go off to school? A least they still will have the large plastic grocery bag filled with gold medals from all those championships to look at every day. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
PS - I wrote this story a few days ago, but didn't post it until today. In this morning's (Sunday, July 7, 2024) Lancaster Sunday Newspaper, it was announced that Manheim Township's Breanna Campagna won top female honors for the 2023-24 school year and whose talents proved exceptional! Congratulations and "Best of Luck" to Breanna and Calli! from the Woods' Family.
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| Breanna taking a shot on goal - LNP Photo |
Saturday, July 6, 2024
The "Porch Culture" Story
It was an ordinary day. Wondering when the last time you might have sat on the front porch and chatted with your neighbors. When I say "front porch," tell me what your mind conjures up! I'm guessing your answer may include a mention of chilled sangria, a swing, a lounging dog, and the scent of hydrangeas. Most of us, it seems, hold shared thoughts about the idyll of front porches and the pleasure of killing time there as a breeze rustles the nearby branches. We do so love - and romanticize - porches. Whether we actually use them as they are intended is another matter. But I'll get to that in a minute. Originally, porches had a singular mission: provide a space that shields home owners from the sun while allowing them to enjoy the outdoors. Mind you, this relates to the late 1880s, before we had air conditioning. Or cars. Or, for that matter, large screen TVs on which to watch The Bachelor. We tended to stay home, with few option in the way of entertainment. It was regarded as a sign of status to laze prominently out on one's porch where others could envy our privilege. Seriously. Even today, I hear people mooning over their long-ago porch-sitting days, although I figure most are embroidering their memories. It was a "comfortable perch from which to become a contented observer - to savor what is sweet about home," a writer recently reminisced in Southern Living magazine. Surely true. It was also a place to get eaten alive by bugs unless you had the luxury of screens. For a while, porches were in fact associated mainly with the American South. Not so much anymore. Since they can be part of various architectural styles - Victorian, gothic, farm-house, colonial - porches are now popular almost everywhere. The last U.S. Census found that 65 percent of single-family homes built in 2020 had a front porch. Typically, builders' fanciful literature will boast that a porch enables you to engage with neighbors - ostensibly one of their most charming features, but only if you like your neighbors. Many of us aren't eager to chit-chat over a wall with the folks next door, who for all we know are eyeing our Chinese takeout. Of course, these are outlier. I don't know any of its members, but an organization called the Porch-Sitting Union of America has a quarter-million of them who are devoted to - well, you know. My personal theory is that most porches nowadays are cherished chiefly for their aesthetic appeal; they don't get sat on often, or maybe not at all. Annette Bopper, administrator of the Porch-Sitters Facebook page, told me that, at its core, "the porch is really a state of mind." Among its main virtues, Boprey said, is that "it's a place for passing along family wisdom." Which is a very fine thing if your childhood ws a very fine thing. For my money, one of the best users of porches today is seen in Porchfest, which began in Ithaca, New York, and has spread to more than 100 towns across the U.S. It's generally a lively one day affair during which amateur musicians perform for porches scattered around town. According to Andy Adelwitz, co-orgainzer of the Ithaca Porchfest, "It's a celebration of the artistic community. It's a celebration of the artistic community. It's democratic, not curated. It includes everything from kids choirs to metal groups to banjos. And it goes on, rain or shine." So, it has come to this: the porch as American bandstand. Hurrah! It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Friday, July 5, 2024
The "A Renowned Doctor Taught Lesson With A Story Of Failure" Story
It was an ordinary day. Reading the "I Know A Story" column in my local Sunday newspaper. The week's story was titled "Renowned doctor taught lesson with a story of failure." The story was written by Dr. David E. Fuchs. He began by telling the readers that ...One of my roles as a physician was caring for residents in nursing homes. One day I entered the room of one patient, and immediately noticed the photo at her bedside. It was none other than Dr. C. Everett Koop, the esteemed pediatric surgeon and former surgeon general of the United States. She revealed that decades ago she had worked with him at Children's Hospital in Phildelphia. One day Dr. Koop came to visit her. I was fortunate to be in the building, and I came by to catch a glimpse of the surgeon idolized by nearly every doctor I know. Despite his being in his 90s and in a wheelchair, I immediately felt that I was in the presence of greatness. After all, he had developed several new surgeries to treat birth anomalies, and he separated more than one set of conjoined twins. He revealed that he had recently been hired by Dartmouth Medical College to help teach medical students how to effectively relate to patients. After some pleasantries and Dr. Koop making certain I knew I was to take especially good care of this patient, he began to share an experience from his career. Though in my 60s, I felt like a young medical student again as I listened carefully to every word. He recalled that, many years ago, a young woman had come into the emergency room and was diagnosed with a large blood clot in her lung. She was going downhill fast, and he was summoned to take her to the operating room to remove the clot. Because time was of the essence, the usual precautions against germs were skipped as he quickly opened her chest and removed the clot, literally saving her life. Realizing that there was a high risk of post-operative infection, and, having access to a new wonder drug called penicillin, Dr. Koop told me how he sprinkled penicillin into the chest wound. "I gilded the lily, he said." What happened next was quite unexpected. Her heart slowed, hen stopped beating. There ws potassium in that ne drug - penicillin - snd in high doses, potassium stops the heart, for good. He had saved her life, and a few minutes later, had inadvertently ended it. I was struck by the fact that this world-renowned surgeon surgeon, with so many heroic stories to tell, chose instead to tell me this story of failure. As I walked away, I wondered if his message was that we learn more from our mistakes than from our successes. However, I came away feeling the a dose of humility can make the most successful msn appear even greater. The author of this story, a retired physical, lives in East Hempfield Township. C. Everett Koop died in 2013 at age 96. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
Thursday, July 4, 2024
The "KJ Is The Star Of The Day" Story
It was an ordinary day. Sitting in Clipper Magazine Stadium, home of the minor-league baseball team Lancaster Stormers. Today's game had to wait a bit longer to begin since there was a big celebration before the game began. Seems that all the local team and business mascots had arrived to celebrate the birthday of the Stormer's mascot, Cylo. And, to top all that off was the throwing out of the first pitch by a young girl named Kennedy, aka KJ. Kennedy is a good friend of my family, thus my wife Carol and I, along with our youngest son Tad made a visit to see KJ throw out the first pitch today. Naturally KJ's mother Donya was in attendance. There must have been close to two dozen mascots from local schools and colleges as well as businesses and athletic teams in attendance for the game. Fun day and the weather was perfect for the event. I was asked to take a few photos of the event and I enjoyed myself immensely while walking around the infield, snapping photo after photo of all the mascots. KJ even had her image posted on the scoreboard in the stadium! The following photographs are a few of the many photos I was able to snap. And...naturally KJ was in many of the photographs. Hope you enjoy the photos as much as I enjoyed taking them for the Stormers. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
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| Happy Birthday Cylo |
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| Cylo's birthday card |
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| Cylo greeting the other mascots |
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| Additional mascots |
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| Cylo with his friends |
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| Kennedy with Cylo |
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| Image of Kennedy on the scoreboard |
