tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46954850820879949562024-03-13T11:49:07.221-07:00My Corner Of PennsylvaniaAlong Country Roadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01716481624583109002noreply@blogger.comBlogger112125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4695485082087994956.post-31627378594777466902016-05-19T18:39:00.000-07:002016-05-19T19:00:07.661-07:00Greening up in P. A.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O16cNyIkVnE/Vz5nyVrsGGI/AAAAAAAACRU/Hisf5EaBjfMwHHf0UNdPGUu1yYSHNq3UQCLcB/s1600/IMG_0392.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Birdhouses on poles form field's boundary" border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O16cNyIkVnE/Vz5nyVrsGGI/AAAAAAAACRU/Hisf5EaBjfMwHHf0UNdPGUu1yYSHNq3UQCLcB/s640/IMG_0392.jpg" title="A row of Birdhouses dot a field of green" width="426" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">A couple of scenes along country roads in northwestern P. A. show spring's in command.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Useful as well ornamental," as Uncle Albert of<i> Summers Run </i>would say of these birdhouses all in a row.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">An Amish buggy out on a morning errand. </span><br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RJAzOB7aN8k/Vz5p9JBvQ0I/AAAAAAAACRg/h6GtSL9QL1c_tPcY-gjyGKlFRq5bwSkRACLcB/s1600/IMG_0609.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="gravel road with Amish horse and buggy in distance" border="0" height="305" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RJAzOB7aN8k/Vz5p9JBvQ0I/AAAAAAAACRg/h6GtSL9QL1c_tPcY-gjyGKlFRq5bwSkRACLcB/s400/IMG_0609.jpg" title="Grren tree-lined sandy gravel road with Amish Buggy" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Along Country Roadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01716481624583109002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4695485082087994956.post-48865192757070502022016-04-18T09:39:00.003-07:002016-05-02T14:29:48.654-07:00Pennsylvania: Car Shows A-plenty!<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IB_8uQsXeL8/VxUNGnDnilI/AAAAAAAACKY/AFxiTGgiUdwKjXjRE5Q6kc8lzvVeMT5kgCLcB/s1600/39plymouth9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="black coupe with fence and evergreen background" border="0" height="250" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IB_8uQsXeL8/VxUNGnDnilI/AAAAAAAACKY/AFxiTGgiUdwKjXjRE5Q6kc8lzvVeMT5kgCLcB/s400/39plymouth9.jpg" title="Black 1939 Plymouth Road King Business Coupe" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">This year is no exception. That Pennsylvania is a mecca for car enthusiasts and show-goers is inescapable. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Here's a list of some majors being held in the epicenters of Carlisle and Hershey. Google for details, of course. Other shows are being held across the Keystone State as well.</span><br />
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">All Ford Nationals, June 3rd-5th, Carlisle</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The Elegance at Hershey, June 10-12th, Hershey</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">GM Nationals, June 17th-19th, Carlisle</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">All Chrysler Nationals, July 15th-17th, Carlisle</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Macungie Swap Meet, August 5th-7th, Macungie</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Fall Carlisle, September 28th-October 2nd, Carlisle</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Hershey Giant Show & Swap, October 5th-8th, Hershey </span></span><br />
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Here are some shows sponsored by the</span></span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Antique Automobile Club of America:</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">May 30, Boalsburg, Scott Deno, nsd1@psu.edu</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">June 3-4, Annual Grand National, Williamsport. Susquehannock Region</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">June 5, Forty-Fort, Northeast Region's 55th Annual and Flea Market, Wyoming Valley Airport. www.nepraaca.org</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">June 19, Somerset, Sugar Bush Region's 3rd Annual Cruise-in and Swap </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">June 17-21, Huntingdon, Founders Tour, Allegheny Mountain Region</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">September 24-25, Carlisle, Susquehanna Valley Vintage Sports Car Club. www.meetingofthemarques.com</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">October 5-8, Hershey, Eastern Fall Meet, Hershey Region</span><br />
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Along Country Roadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01716481624583109002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4695485082087994956.post-26481541236880335472016-04-17T11:54:00.000-07:002016-04-17T12:01:50.766-07:00N. C. Wyeth, Pennsylvania Treasure<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #414141; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal; margin: 0.75em 0px 0px; position: relative;">
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<a href="http://summersrun.blogspot.com/2016/04/the-reading-boy.html" style="color: #838383; text-decoration: none;">The Reading Boy</a></h3>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Bv43kNnqXTY/VxPGMgzR4-I/AAAAAAAACIM/VgKruixJqTUEFcnqx1n4uTE8O5wQa3adgCLcB/s1600/N.%2BC.%2BWyeth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #838383; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img alt="Boy reading book with pirate ship background" border="0" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Bv43kNnqXTY/VxPGMgzR4-I/AAAAAAAACIM/VgKruixJqTUEFcnqx1n4uTE8O5wQa3adgCLcB/s640/N.%2BC.%2BWyeth.jpg" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1px solid rgb(236, 236, 236); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 5px; position: relative;" title="The Reading Boy, N. C. Wyeth" width="529" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><b>From the creative genius of N. C. Wyeth</b>, American artist and popular illustrator of the 20th century, active until 1945 when he perished in tragic car-train accident. He took up residence at Chadds Ford in southeastern Pennsylvania and established the area as the home ground for son Andrew and grandson Jamie––a patrimony of great importance to American art today.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">We here think this wonderful illustration depicting soaring imagination is a very fitting symbol for our forthcoming blog, <b>Books for Boys.</b> A symbol for this blog's interest in encouraging boys, the reluctant readers in most households, to learn the wonders of good and classic works.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">Wyeth produced an astonishing number of illustrations and non-commercial pieces. Leaf through classic works of James Fenimore Cooper, Robert Louis Stevenson, Daniel Defoe, Washington Irving and most likely you'll encounter Wyeth's heroic depictions of characters, hero or heroines, and adventurous treks. Who can determine if boys and other readers were more inspired by the text or the Illustrations?</span></div>
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Along Country Roadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01716481624583109002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4695485082087994956.post-53020805750934943232016-04-05T14:37:00.000-07:002016-04-05T14:39:00.512-07:00A Request<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zeUWP_WpR6U/VwQb54MPl7I/AAAAAAAACGY/essGiSVYMXA7f0D-7RVPkTO550Jklra6g/s1600/Version%2B2%2B%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Model sitting atop two books" border="0" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zeUWP_WpR6U/VwQb54MPl7I/AAAAAAAACGY/essGiSVYMXA7f0D-7RVPkTO550Jklra6g/s640/Version%2B2%2B%25282%2529.jpg" title="Model Chrylser with Summers Run books" width="532" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Those of you who read and subscribe to <i>Pennsylvania Magazine </i>should be familiar with its excellent listing of nonfiction books covering travel and historical subjects of the Keystone State.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>As expressed on our sister blogs</b>, <i>A Feel Good Novel</i> and <i>Along Cotton Road</i>, we're looking for recommendations of fiction written with Pennsylvania as the setting. Especially books for boys, the reluctant readers in most households.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>Works with a "feel good"</b> ending are very welcome as well.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">List your recommendations in the comment section below this posting or send us an e-mail to alongcountryroads@yahoo.com</span></div>
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Along Country Roadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01716481624583109002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4695485082087994956.post-76086551527671212122016-03-08T10:14:00.001-08:002016-03-23T16:50:54.732-07:00Due West and Due North<span style="font-size: large;">West of New York City and straight north of Philadelphia, that is.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Here's a clue to this special location in the Keystone State.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #5f5f5f; line-height: 19.6px;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>Capture all the excitement and intrigue of a factory tour as our highly-skilled craftspeople transform. . . . Come to see our grand Visitors Center in. . . . , Pennsylvania, where you can feel the history, smell the. . . . and play legendary. . . . Our world-class. . . . museum honors the. . . . Please join us in celebrating our 175th year of. . . . building excellence. </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #5f5f5f; line-height: 19.6px;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Can you fill in the blanks?</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #5f5f5f; line-height: 19.6px;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Can you identify the factory from its statement above?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yes, it's the C. F. Martin Company, Nazareth, Pennsylvania. It<span style="text-align: start;"> has been creating these stringed instruments beloved by artists across the world for more than 175 years. Martin continues to innovate, introducing techniques and features that have become industry standards for fine guitars. Whether for folk, classical, bluegrass, or just plain acoustical applications, Martin guitars––produced in the Keystone State––are revered.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: start;">One of the world's leading acoustic instrument makers, Martin guitars are hand-made by skilled craftsmen and women, who use a combination of new design and techniques along with those introduced by the company founder––some tools and methods dating back to 1833! Here are just a few of their models:</span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Crnirxqqc8s/VuMttn8io1I/AAAAAAAAB_c/KGGDTF0ogFwc-OWQaUyARg7Js6sxqQqmg/s1600/Road%2Bseries.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="blond guitar" border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Crnirxqqc8s/VuMttn8io1I/AAAAAAAAB_c/KGGDTF0ogFwc-OWQaUyARg7Js6sxqQqmg/s400/Road%2Bseries.png" title="Martin Road King Guitar" width="158" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: start;">The Road King</span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V0i-WjAbYKE/VuMuBgiLFOI/AAAAAAAAB_g/36GvwPB2g_k_9wBveOpNqEEXld9ywJnPQ/s1600/ss-omvine-16.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="brown and embellished guitar" border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V0i-WjAbYKE/VuMuBgiLFOI/AAAAAAAAB_g/36GvwPB2g_k_9wBveOpNqEEXld9ywJnPQ/s400/ss-omvine-16.png" title="The Martin SM Ovine-16 guitar" width="158" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: start;">The SM Ovine-16</span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yO5OQVF06FE/VuMuPZ7Ek-I/AAAAAAAAB_k/C7ZSagyEiPEG1GqquazIXDUuYALwSWEFQ/s1600/lx1e-little-martin.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="blond smaller guitar" border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yO5OQVF06FE/VuMuPZ7Ek-I/AAAAAAAAB_k/C7ZSagyEiPEG1GqquazIXDUuYALwSWEFQ/s400/lx1e-little-martin.gif" title="Little Martin guitar" width="158" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: start;">The Little Martin</span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BeCNr7igSSI/VuMvXvO_PyI/AAAAAAAAB_4/V6nmeXPCIeIhhd7XLc5szPrPyrmF-kRtg/s1600/classical-backpacker.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="a guitar for portable backpacking" border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BeCNr7igSSI/VuMvXvO_PyI/AAAAAAAAB_4/V6nmeXPCIeIhhd7XLc5szPrPyrmF-kRtg/s400/classical-backpacker.gif" title="Martin Backpacker guitar" width="158" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Backpacker</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: start;">Factory tours are available. Visit the company's website for details at </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.martinguitar.com/">www.martinguitar.com</a></span></div>
Along Country Roadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01716481624583109002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4695485082087994956.post-67821061841959610842016-02-28T15:32:00.003-08:002016-02-28T15:37:57.094-08:00The Grange<div style="background-color: white; color: #444444; line-height: 20px; padding: 0px 0px 15px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The "P" and "H" in the Grange's national emblem represent "patrons" and "husbandry", as the official title is the National Grange of the Order of Patrons of Husbandry. </span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CR0ev9hcKmA/VtN-0I9uYpI/AAAAAAAAB9s/C7r-teEYDnQ/s1600/Grange%2B.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CR0ev9hcKmA/VtN-0I9uYpI/AAAAAAAAB9s/C7r-teEYDnQ/s400/Grange%2B.jpeg" width="340" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">There are more than 2100 active Granges in the USA. Pennsylvania currently has 246 of that number assembling in buildings such as this one. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The National Grange convention will meet November, 15-19, 2016, in Washington, D. C. to celebrate its 150th anniversary serving rural communities across the nation. PA's Session will be held October 19-22, 2016. </span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A9_sMpekij8/VtN_68XdXzI/AAAAAAAAB94/BM-6SkU7Owc/s1600/Austerity.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A9_sMpekij8/VtN_68XdXzI/AAAAAAAAB94/BM-6SkU7Owc/s400/Austerity.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Along Country Roadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01716481624583109002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4695485082087994956.post-37986946094030762362016-02-17T13:46:00.001-08:002016-02-17T13:46:11.320-08:00As Was Their Habit<div class="date-posts" style="color: #414141; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 14px;">
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<span style="font-size: medium;">From our <i>Aunt Bea's Plymouth</i> Collection</span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6JNBAMlgK7g/VrVQljL4vXI/AAAAAAAAB6s/wss2Ll7iZbI/s1600/AS13_r116_01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: black; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="123" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6JNBAMlgK7g/VrVQljL4vXI/AAAAAAAAB6s/wss2Ll7iZbI/s200/AS13_r116_01.jpg" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border: 1px solid rgb(239, 239, 239); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 5px; position: relative;" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">She shivered––not from the cool of the morning but rather the prospect of her daughter falling and thrashing about in panic out there. Though two decades has passed since her own dunking, the memory of the lake's limitless breadth and darkness endured.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> But, Jennifer possessed maddening confidence about these things. Such bravado her mother had to admire, though she still ranked waterskiing with rock climbing and certainly bungee jumping.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> Jenny stirred the golden water into a gentle meringue, skiing behind the boat of a new friend, a young man she'd met in the library several months ago. This, his first visit to the lake but he seemed confident as when they first met him at the Authors and Chocolates event, confident enough in these unfamiliar waters.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> He carved the broadest sweeps and Jenny trailed behind his craft, flexing in harmony with the chop off the water, her skis her wings. He called to her, using the electronic megaphone he brought with him this morning.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> He insisted on the megaphone as a key safety measure––one their daughter pooh-poohed but relented when her parents appeared so impressed with the precautions taken on her behalf. Thoughtful. Considerate. Responsible. Good qualities. Approvable.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> "What are you doing?" Her husband sipped the morning coffee with a frown, letting his open newspaper brush the floor.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> "I'm riding with her," she announced, continuing to bend her knees as she stood between the open French doors. "See? I'm bouncing over the waves and the skis are going, <i>'ka-wumpf, ka-wumpf.' </i>and I'm nearly breathless from the spray––oh!––it is so exhilarating." She sprung up and down, her legs remembering an old warm-up from their days at the rail, Miss Ballinger's ballet class.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> "Hah! I thought you were playing the cello."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> "Are my legs that bowed?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> "Your legs are more supple than these football knees––creak with every bob she takes out there. "He settled into his favorite wicker chair. "But you, . . ."he folded his newspaper and creased it as was his habit. "You've always feared the water."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> "I prefer gazing at the lake, not swallowing it," she told him. "Learned my limitations, as you say."</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> He scowled into his coffee cup."What am I drinking?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> "It's the new brew I picked up yesterday. It sounded festive––'Caribbean Nights.'"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> He snorted and creased the paper again, to the page where a respected columnist held forth. "It's good," he said of her brew. "Glad it's not 'Sweepings Off the Jungle Floor.'"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> When she took her place across from him, she lifted her own cup and bestowed that "I-want-to-talk-about-something" smile upon him. The boat droned on, growing fainter with each sip. She cradled the mug, as was <i>her</i> habit, and watched him follow the column down until he signaled with a smirk of approval that this week's commentary was worth the effort of both writer and reader.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> Finished, he looked up at her over what he called his "Fessiwigs," the half-framed eyeglasses he now wore with greater frequency. "What?" he asked.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> "What do you mean, 'What?' ?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“You know what.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“Why, no, sweetheart.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“The devil. What are you thinking?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“Nothing.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“You were smiling.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">‘I’ve been thinking.” She set her mug on the white wicker table between then and leaned towards him, cradling her best feature, that delicate chin where the mug had been. This, she knew, her most effective and characteristic “I’ve-been-thinking-and-I-want your-reaction” coquetry.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“All right then, about what?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“About us . . . and them.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“Them.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“Yes, them. Mostly.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“Well?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“He’s being careful, just as you would. And I’m struck how . . . right she looks out there. On the water this morning.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“She’s an athlete on land or sea.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“And that comes from your side. My people were the painters and poets.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“Artsy,” he offered.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“If you like. Refined.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“Told y’ before. We Hanlons––we’re a race of brutes. Big, rough. Even our women were raw-boned––take my mother. Jenny gets her grace from your side.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“What if I had been lanky and big-boned. Would you have married me?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“Oh, lord.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“Well?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“Why bring that up?” He returned to his newspaper.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“Well? What?” She teased, cocking that eyebrow.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“How you do beguile.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">He flipped the paper out to leaf through its pages of state and national items, his least favorite sections read more out of duty as a decently informed citizen. He scanned the headlines, putting her off, his turn to tease. “Still at it?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“Yes.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“Why?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“I’d . . . just like to know.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“We’ve been over this, dozen different angles.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“What? Not this exact subject.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“This, <i>‘would-you-marry-me-if?’</i> business.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“Yes, but a girl likes to hear it.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“Romance seems to be in the air,” he coughed and set his paper aside, leaned back, stretching until the wicker chair squeaked. “We had to inject some genes that would soften my side. Find a mate to whelp us some decent features . . . nice profiles and good markings.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“Glory!” she laughed. “And are you through breeding the old bitch? Or do you need another litter?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“Nah. She’s done her part.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">She picked up her mug, toasted him and he returned the mocking gesture. “It <i>is</i> good, Jack.” </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“What’s good?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“‘Jungle Floor’.” She rose and took her pleasure from the lake now basking in the warmth of a midsummer’s day. The boat was returning and she followed its progress toward shore through the binoculars they kept close to the porch for bird sighting and deer watching.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“She looks like Angela out there,” she told him while keeping their daughter in focus.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“I’ve said so twenty times, have I not? Those two could be mother-daughter rather than aunt and niece.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">She lowered the big lenses to her chest. “Jenny could have children.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“Jumpin’ the gun, aren’t y’?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">With the naked eye, one could tell the skiing was over, successfully, safely. And so, she trained the powerful glasses on her daughter first, now neck deep in the quiet water. then to the boat and the young man maneuvering to her side. He pulled her up and over, lifting her, soggy wetsuit and all, into its cushioned interior.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“Well,” the mother in her sighed.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“What?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“A relief. She looks . . . radiant.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“Quit spying,” he scolded.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“Not spying. Just gaining some . . . insight.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“Spying.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“And you’re right––Angela is her spitting image these days. You can really see it in the morning light. Come see.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“Yeah, yeah.” He waved it off, his typical gesture of dismissal.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“You’re being <i>‘grimcheux papi’</i> today.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“Hah!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“Just as Angela says. Your granddaughter knows you––”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“––What she knows . . . is all the claptrap the women of this family feed her.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“Wasn’t that just precious, though, Jack, really? ‘Faux Grumpee’, a granddaughter’s assessment of her granddad’s demeanor last summer? Oh, she has you figured, you and your veneer.” </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“Figured how to coax and wheedle and finagle, just like all the other females in this clan––”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“––It’s in the genes, dear. Those refined and sensitive traits we’ve supplied for the benefit of you brutish Hanlons.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“So, now we can sire perceptive, intuitive, finely crafted . . . .”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“Exactly.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“Works of art,” he concluded.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“Isn’t it wonderful? Jenny and then Angela and before then her clever mother.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“Ten-year-old spouting off, trying to speak French. The language of diplomacy and all the more conniving––precocious little show-off.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“Oh.” She screwed down her most exaggerated pout. “So mean and <i>grumpee</i> <i>papi</i> we are. Remember––?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“––Chirpy grandchildren, today. What ever happened to ‘Should be seen and not heard.’?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“That old saw went out with the wringer washer. Remember? ‘Now grandpa, we’re not going to be a grumpy granddad like you see on t. v., are we?’”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“Presumptuous little squirrel, her.” She caught the smirk he couldn’t hide.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">***</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">The boaters were approaching the dock, and he glanced toward their arrival through the spokes of the deck railing. He sighed: <i>how to react, how to regard this young man now in their Jenny's life?</i></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“She could have children. Hmmm.” she said wistfully.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“It would be hard, love. Be a struggle for the both of them.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“Yes, but she’d have us. She’s lucky we’re so close by.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“And, . . .” he had returned to his paper, rustling it vigorously, “we’re lucky to have her.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“What do you think?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“What? Think what? Don’t get dreamy over there.” He could read her smile through simply hearing the undertone. No need to look up.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“They could get married, why not?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“Dunno. He’d be taking on quite a load.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“Well, it’s not like she’s dependent. She’s become self-sufficient basically. They could . . . thrive. We’d help.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“Bridle that enthusiasm, girl.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“There are hurdles, certainly. But they can be conquered. My goodness, look at all she’s done with herself. Out there today, waterskiing, for heaven’s sake. I can’t do that . . . but she can.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">He felt her reading him, luring him into some comment beyond a quick brush-off, some commitment which if not profound or enduring, would at least be important and positive enough for the both of them.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“You’re hopeful for her, aren’t you?” she asked.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“Of course. She’s as deserving as anyone, moreso than most. But there’s one thing we cannot give her, and that’s happiness with some good man.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">She scooted to him, wrenched the wicker chair around, and perched on its edge so their knees touched. Then she grabbed up their mugs of cold coffee, handed him his, and they clinked them together.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“Over the gums!” she piped</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“Look out stomach,” he growled, voicing the line he was assigned. “Gol, you do get the bee in your bonnet,” and he swirled the mug’s contents, then swigged it all the way.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">She jumped from her chair and ran to the deck’s railing. “Come on out! Come out to the sun,” she called.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">“Yes,” he said and sighed flatly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">That she had returned to the French doors and waited for his compliance was fully expected. And he knew she would say nothing. She’d stand there, arms folded, leaning against the doorjamb, perhaps tapping a toe faintly. No escaping it.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“Now quit that spying.” He peered over his “Fezziwigs,” projecting he thought, his sternest expression.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">She placed her hands behind her and leaned squarely against the door, that chin tucked under those soulful eyes. This gray-haired girl, he decided, remains as fully distracting as that night in the student union so many years ago.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">He rose, tossed the sports section on the wicker divan for later and padded out behind her to greet the couple coming up the dock.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“He’ll have to get used to Ralph and Ralph to him,” he told her as they watched the young pair approach wth the big tawny dog at her side.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“Oh, that will happen. And Ralph loves boating, you proved that. I think they’re friends already.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“Umm, not likely, pet. He’s devoted to one person and one alone. It’s their training.” He knew Ralph, her dog, could be offish, not threatening of course, but indifferent when others were around. His loyalty encompassed only Jenny, his mistress, not other members of the family.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">And as Jack watched the trio climb the hill to the house, suddenly his throat grew tight and eyes welled.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">How good and true was their daughter’s helper and friend! How deep its devotion and how inseparable they had grown over the years. And how observant of those ancient breeders to call his kind, “The Shepherd.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">For such was Ralph’s lot, guiding her up and down the steps of life, gentle yet firm and strong, her daughter’s constant companion. How willing to sacrifice a dozen, perhaps a hundred, more carefree dog lives than the one chosen by man for him. How easily he accepted the harness, the task hourly, daily, and how tirelessly he rose to her command.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<i><span style="font-size: medium;">My God, what fool could dare say animals have no souls?</span></i></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">He knew the wife at his side caught the tear glistening on that bright Sunday morning––he did not care––and when their daughter waved up at them, it seemed as if she could see again.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“How did she know to wave?” he asked, wiping his eye.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“She felt him wave.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“He told her to.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“No. She felt it. It’s instinctive.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“Kind of a woman’s thing, I guess.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“Yes, perhaps. Being blind helps.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">The young couple and the dog disappeared around the blue willow hedge that embraced the deck there. He told her: “Thank you.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“For what?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">He didn’t answer.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“For what, hon?”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">“I’d rather not discuss it right now.”</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><i><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">(When Aunt Bea and I called on the Hanlons one morning, they were leaving</span> for a trip to visit Jenny and her new husband. This short story was developed from that brief encounter.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-indent: 36px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><i>The dog pictured above could have been Ralph.) </i></span></span></div>
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Along Country Roadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01716481624583109002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4695485082087994956.post-76046544027355210522016-02-05T12:01:00.005-08:002016-02-07T13:41:21.257-08:00The "Pennsy", more than a Monopoly piece<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><i>A Lionel Locomotive and tender. Many of us found this one under the Christmas tree.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Routes of the Pennsy in 1918.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">The Pennsylvania Railroad was founded in 1846. Commonly referred to as the "Pennsy," the company was headquartered in Philadelphia,<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> Pennsylvania.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(37, 37, 37); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #252525;">The PRR was the largest railroad by traffic and revenue in the U.S. for the first half of the twentieth century. Over the years, it acquired, merged with, or owned part of at least 800 other rail lines and companies.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #021eaa;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(11, 20, 128);"> </span></span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #252525;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(37, 37, 37);">At the end of 1925, it operated 10,515 miles of rail line and</span></span><span style="color: #252525;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> in the 1920s, it carried nearly three times the traffic as other railroads of comparable length, such as competitors Union Pacific, the </span>Atchison<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">, Topeka & Santa Fe, and its most notable rival, the New York Central. NYC carried around three-quarters of the Pennsy's ton miles. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">At one time, the PRR was the largest publicly traded corporation in the world, with a budget larger than that of the U.S. government and a workforce of about 250,000 people. The corporation still holds the record for the longest continuous dividend history: it paid out annual dividends to shareholders for more than 100 years in a row.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #252525;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(37, 37, 37); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">In 1968, PRR merged with rival NYC to form the Penn Central Transportation Company, which filed for bankruptcy within two years. </span></span><span style="color: #252525;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(37, 37, 37); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The viable parts were transferred in 1976 to Conrail,</span></span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(37, 37, 37); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #252525;"> which was itself broken up in 1999, with 58 percent of the system going to the</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(11, 20, 128); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="color: #021eaa;"> </span>Norfolk Southern Railway </span><span style="color: #252525;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(37, 37, 37); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">(NS), including nearly all of the former PRR. Amtrak</span></span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(37, 37, 37); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; color: #252525;"> received the electrified segment east of </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(11, 20, 128); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Harrisburg.<span style="color: #021eaa;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<br />Along Country Roadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01716481624583109002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4695485082087994956.post-48943993516776925252015-12-13T10:56:00.001-08:002015-12-14T09:03:40.533-08:00<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="color: #414141; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 22px; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0.75em 0px 0px; position: relative;">
Aunt Bea's Plymouth: "The Gad-abouts"</h3>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Somewhat strange, I suppose, for a twelve-year-old to tag along with his aunt as she made her rounds for the church. Yet, calling on old members and friends, new families fresh with babies or Beagle pups, farm folks and city dwellers––every visit made a memory for me.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">One could peek down the hall or up the stairs of the homes we entered. I'd note the Victorian antiques or if the television was a DuMont, Philco, GE, RCA, Sylvania, or an Emerson. Then record what calendars or portraits hung on the wall, find the creaks in the hallway, smell the aromas that clung to the wallpaper. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">Church visitation was no respecter of persons: some homes reeked of old times and infirmities; others were upscale where finned Cadillacs were berthed and, on the Hi-Fi, lush violins played country club music to complement the plush draperies and polished heirlooms.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">The Breathwaites lived close to the "fashionable" side of town and life back then. Often pictured in the <i>Tribune, </i>they could out-Carnegie Dale Carnegie, author of <i>How to Win Friends and Influence People</i>––a very popular book back in those days. They drove Buicks. A dignified Roadmaster sedan for Cecil; a smaller, sportier Century hardtop for Virginia.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">We were ushered into the stone foyer just as Cecil's cousin was leaving, and my Aunt Bea was elected to negotiate an argument.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">Yes, Cousin Jim told us, the elder Breathwaites were still holding forth on the family place. "Mom and Pop rent most of the land and pasture, and that's fine with me since I din't want to farm. And, . . . so here I am, trying to get these two down yonder to see 'em while they're still around."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">"We're driving down soon's we can," Cecil laughed, embarrassed enough that even I could see it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">"That's what I heard the last time we had this discussion," Jim told us. "Every time we get into this."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">"Jim," Virginia piped up, "we're busy people, just like you and Karen."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">"I painted this house a year last summer," Jim told the both of us. "So I kept track of the to and fro around this place. Cecil would pull out, first thing in the morning. Then there goes Virginia, driving off. Cece comes back, then he leaves again. Virginia comes back. Cece drives back in, then Virginia takes off. Then Cecil takes off, and Virginia, in the meantime, comes back––"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">Cecil shook his head and laughed, "Oh, Jimmy, now––"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">"Y' might as well leave the garage door open––be easier. Needa traffic cop out here."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">"Jim, we're social people––"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">"Gadfly gad-abouts, I say."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">"Well, you saw us on a Thursday and that's our busiest," said Virginia. "Miss Cotton knows all about how many things go on in this town." Jim started ticking off his fingers.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">"They sing in two different church choirs, Presbyterian and Stone Methodist––practice every week for that. Then, Ginny plays the organ over at St. Paul's. They're both Gold Coaters, so have to get out and meet the tour buses comin' through. Then there's Rotary, and her garden club, Kiwanis, and the library board, something up at the college, and the Art and Book Guild, the Bird and Tree Club, the balloon fest, the pancake breakfasts––"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">"And there's always work to be done and volunteers have to do it," Virginia pled her case.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">'Well, Gin, let someone else take that stuff on." Jim scowled her way. "They pawn these jobs off on you two 'cause they know it'll get done."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">"Jim, Ginny and I've talked about this very thing. We're going to bring the kids––"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">"Dad's got four tracks for his trains now. Goes clear down one wall and around the corner, across the other. Mom's family tree quilt is done finally. Th' folks would be tickled to death to show those grandkids around . . . and get acquainted a bit."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">"Yes, just as soon as they have a free weekend, we'll load 'em up––"</span><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">"Do it before they turn sulky, . . . couple pouty teenagers don't want to bother with us old duffers."</span><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">"We will, we will. We'll get it done."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">Jim made his way to the front door of oak and wrought iron. "One of these days, Cuz, you're gonna get the call, 'The funeral's on Friday, hope yunz can make it.'" </span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">The cousins said their goodbyes, and Aunt Bea and I were ushered into a den cozy with tartan upholstery, bookshelves built into the pickled oak paneling and a robust rock fireplace, trimmed in copper.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;">Church stuff took up most of the visit and most of which I don't remember. I do recall, though, the bit about pouty teenagers and pawning jobs off on folks entrusted and known to get such done.</span><br />
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Along Country Roadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01716481624583109002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4695485082087994956.post-84695968300396403452015-12-07T20:02:00.003-08:002016-02-29T15:11:36.989-08:00The Boys of Summers Run, a novel swimming upstream<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: medium;">The Boys of Summers Run is written for seniors . . . parents . . . grandparents . . . middle-grade teens . . . and <i>boys,</i> likely the reluctant readers in most households.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">The back cover reads:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Fatherless boys become the Four Horsemen of the Outfield</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Autumn, and high above the fields and forests</b> of his family's historic farm, Claude Kinkade surveys his life there thus far. His future in rural Pennsylvania remains cloudy. His mother's marriage may move him to the deserts of Las Vegas and far away from his beloved Little League Baseball team, the Panthers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Worse, </b>Claude's loyalty is spreading its cloak over Shadeland, his father's ancestral acreage. He senses his departed father's shadow following him as he becomes the "farm-boy-in-training" of Summers Run. Must he forsake the memories he yearns to make among the Clan Kinkade? Will Shadeland suffer in his absence?</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>"Runs" are the brooks and streams</b> linking the countryside together in Claude's new world. Summers Run is one of these, and <i>The Boys of Summers Run</i> is a story of deep roots and timeless springs, nurtured by traditions of family and folkways. It describes the friendships only boys can forge while learning of life and loss, the triumphs and tragedies of it all. One unsolicited reviewer writes:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>"I think this is the best book </b>I've read in a long time. I enjoyed it because it taught so many lessons. . . . I would recommend this book for all ages."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Be aware</b> <i>Boys</i> is not a sports story. Nor the typical coming-of-age account. It is a story of a family preserving the land and the values it is duty-bound to protect and honor. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>To order</b> from Barnes & Noble:</span> <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-boys-of-summers-run-mr-james-l-cotton/1120158819?ean=9780971357891" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">The Boys of Summers Run</a></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">From Amazon:</span> <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Boys-Summers-Run-James-Cotton-ebook/dp/B00K8GOAV6/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1449545346&sr=1-1&keywords=The+Boys+of+Summers+Run" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">The Boys of Summers Run</a> </div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">From IndieBound:</span> <a href="http://www.indiebound.org/search/book?searchfor=The+Boys+of+Summers+Run" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">The Boys of Summers Run</a></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">(IndieBound is a huge community of independent bookstores found in your hometown and on the street corners across the nation. IndieBound members offer all manner of book services, shipping, and ordering of ebooks for your tablets and readers or softbound versions for your nightstand. Patronize them whenever possible.) Remember, <i>Boys</i> is an IndieB.R.A.G. Medallion winner.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;">And, Pennsylvania, . . . folks, is the setting featured in this work. Yes, there are detours taken through Las Vegas and Montana, but P. A. is where most of Claude's story of his search and grounding take place. Read <i>Boys</i> and discover if it rings true.</span></div>
Along Country Roadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01716481624583109002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4695485082087994956.post-23530573102200842052015-12-06T13:10:00.002-08:002015-12-06T13:23:38.305-08:00Bowls<span style="font-size: large;">Can't seem to pass a bowl without looking at its contents. Folks get pretty creative. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This time of year, a bowl often contains the season's holiday greeting cards. Some are receptacles for the more mundane things of life: car keys, cell phones, the dog's leash, a shopping list, mail coming in or going out, and the like. Here's one of ours:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Along with a couple Amur Maple leaves, you might recognize seeds from one of our favorites, the milkweed. Not a glamorous plant, it makes itself useful as well as ornamental as the perfect nesting perch for the Monarch caterpillar and butterfly. A much preferred habitat for this threatened or endangered species.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When fields are farmed right to the road, beneficial plants such as the milkweed are often the victim of overly aggressive weeding programs. If you have a ditch bank or area that's perpetually moist, try planting some milkweeds. While the flower isn't pretty, the seeds are among nature's most exquisite we think. Plus our world's dwindling Monarchs will thank you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was an "off" year for our little orchard. So no McIntosh for us in 2015. But, the apples and bowl below were set on a table by my wife more than 40 years ago. A good harvest in both fruit and film.</span></div>
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Along Country Roadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01716481624583109002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4695485082087994956.post-86327863473858709962015-11-19T18:52:00.003-08:002015-11-19T18:53:10.802-08:00Christmas Trees<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qgZfdXPYFdM/Vk6KzKkco0I/AAAAAAAABy8/xC-64BiqIfs/s1600/Xmas%2BColors%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qgZfdXPYFdM/Vk6KzKkco0I/AAAAAAAABy8/xC-64BiqIfs/s640/Xmas%2BColors%2B2.jpg" width="420" /></a></div>
<br />Along Country Roadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01716481624583109002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4695485082087994956.post-74235104368859435782015-11-12T16:34:00.005-08:002015-11-12T16:34:24.761-08:00<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OmF5q__gElM/VkUv7hF9dFI/AAAAAAAAByI/KdAkfTkyQx4/s1600/IMG_4002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OmF5q__gElM/VkUv7hF9dFI/AAAAAAAAByI/KdAkfTkyQx4/s400/IMG_4002.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Along Country Roadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01716481624583109002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4695485082087994956.post-24677998923636490992015-11-12T16:27:00.001-08:002015-11-12T16:32:07.199-08:00Mum's Not the Word<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">One of the pleasures of the season . . . when the Mums give us a last burst of flowering blooms. Mixed with maple leaves one morning at the Riverside Inn, Cambridge Springs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And along a country road, somewhere in Crawford County.</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iDVtYXgVOeU/VkUusSCru0I/AAAAAAAABx8/qJDWFHz1Ajc/s1600/File0601.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iDVtYXgVOeU/VkUusSCru0I/AAAAAAAABx8/qJDWFHz1Ajc/s400/File0601.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Along Country Roadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01716481624583109002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4695485082087994956.post-69053360179789639822015-10-26T17:08:00.000-07:002015-10-26T17:19:03.734-07:00A Little Bit of Big Sky in the Keystone State<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kptRkhWuJ4w/Vi6-2308SbI/AAAAAAAABrk/3BajhJEyIOc/s1600/IMG_3989.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kptRkhWuJ4w/Vi6-2308SbI/AAAAAAAABrk/3BajhJEyIOc/s320/IMG_3989.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">That's an appetizer of fried green tomatoes with balsamic vinegar drizzled over the top. A speciality and highly recommended! As is, the seafood bisque.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There's an eatery just west of Meadville, Crawford County, in the northwest corner of the state called the Montana Rib & Chop House. Good fare with a few Montana touches such as the map shown below. Janene is pointing to the Bitterroot Valley where your blogger hangs out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DnuSlqm4Lc8/Vi7AQCPVx6I/AAAAAAAABr0/vJbcPRCN1zs/s1600/IMG_3991.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DnuSlqm4Lc8/Vi7AQCPVx6I/AAAAAAAABr0/vJbcPRCN1zs/s400/IMG_3991.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The company's "PA"locations include Meadville, Hermitage, and Canonsburg. Others are out west in Cody, Sheridan, and Cheyenne, Wyoming and of course, Livingston, Billings, and Miles City, Montana.</span></div>
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<br />Along Country Roadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01716481624583109002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4695485082087994956.post-85283329090772282522015-10-11T18:06:00.003-07:002015-10-11T18:06:41.037-07:00Found in the swine barn at the Crawford County Fair<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3eDgvSEcLKs/VhsHPqDlTkI/AAAAAAAABoE/EVI3FKTHFUo/s1600/IMG_4058.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3eDgvSEcLKs/VhsHPqDlTkI/AAAAAAAABoE/EVI3FKTHFUo/s400/IMG_4058.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This youngster shared a nap with her entry. </span></div>
Along Country Roadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01716481624583109002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4695485082087994956.post-79798448375820118562015-10-11T17:41:00.002-07:002015-10-11T20:28:42.587-07:00From this year's Crawford County Fair, northwest P. A.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EUreZ-R3exQ/VhsBmCm4KxI/AAAAAAAABnQ/oD1C04cGkCU/s1600/IMG_4028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EUreZ-R3exQ/VhsBmCm4KxI/AAAAAAAABnQ/oD1C04cGkCU/s400/IMG_4028.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is a Holstein. Yes, the familiar black and white cow seen along the back roads of the Keystone State can occasionally throw a red gene. Enthusiasts have taken the idea and created a substantial following and some call the sub-breed, "Red and Whites." More about them later.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And here are Ginger and Clover, enjoying the beautiful and very comfortable new dairy barn on the grounds. Always photogenic, those Jerseys. The diffused lighting from the fabric roof overhead makes for congenial shooting for any photog strolling through the alleys.</span></div>
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Along Country Roadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01716481624583109002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4695485082087994956.post-86974264866789388512015-09-07T13:21:00.001-07:002015-09-07T13:39:42.746-07:00Close to P. A.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cghg2HZLN98/Ve3xpnjj2SI/AAAAAAAABlU/Ic9FHIicb5w/s1600/Roger%2BTory%2BPeterson%2B1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cghg2HZLN98/Ve3xpnjj2SI/AAAAAAAABlU/Ic9FHIicb5w/s400/Roger%2BTory%2BPeterson%2B1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We occasionally venture beyond P. A.'s borders to close neighbors, such as the Roger Tory Peterson Institute of Natural History, near Jamestown, N. Y. and Lake Chautauqua. The best access for those unfamiliar with the area is off I-86 to 311 Curtis Street. Watch for signs. It's tucked back into the trees and is a bit obscure. Phone for hours and directions. Usually open on Sundays, 1 to 5 pm.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">A special exhibit by the Society of Animal Artists is currently on display as well as the works, tools, life and times of one of America's most influential "birders." Well worth the trip if you are in the area or live nearby.</span>Along Country Roadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01716481624583109002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4695485082087994956.post-66819083911925099512015-09-03T08:58:00.000-07:002015-09-03T08:58:19.276-07:00Pennsylvania-based novel honored<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-5231991471830566919" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 520px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Many thanks to indieBRAG for judging our novel, <i>The Boys of Summers Run,</i> worthy of its Medallion program.</span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ClAd6_TDqgc/VeehQZE5gdI/AAAAAAAABkA/q3DenAal_T8/s1600/BOYS-OF-SUMMER.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #838383; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ClAd6_TDqgc/VeehQZE5gdI/AAAAAAAABkA/q3DenAal_T8/s1600/BOYS-OF-SUMMER.jpg" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1px solid rgb(236, 236, 236); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 5px; position: relative;" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Submissions are juried and then judged by a panel. As a rule, fifty percent of those works are then passed on to a reader group, hence the title, Book Reader Appreciation Group or B.R.A.G. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Forty percent of those submitted are winnowed down to ten percent as deserving of a Medallion.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">We are pleased and humbled to be included in this exclusive group whose works are recognized for their excellence. Here's a link. . . .</span></div>
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<span id="yui_3_16_0_1_1441238102376_6133" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.bragmedallion.com/medallion-honorees" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1441238102376_6134" rel="nofollow" style="color: #196ad4; font-family: georgia; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">http://www.bragmedallion.com</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">When there, click on the "home" link to find our novel among those recent inductees. Works are judged on plot, writing style, characters, copy editing, dialogue, and cover/interior layout.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">One final criterion readers apply? "Would I recommend this book to friends or family?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Ordering this work is easy. Click on the "Summers Run" blog listed on the right of this one.</span></div>
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Along Country Roadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01716481624583109002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4695485082087994956.post-11907049449936151552015-08-26T10:38:00.000-07:002015-08-26T12:13:10.674-07:00Late Summer's Greenery . . . <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-clHA1dsTXxk/Vd307a293tI/AAAAAAAABe8/PIIZMzAiUDs/s1600/Country%2BRoad%2B%2526%2BCorn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-clHA1dsTXxk/Vd307a293tI/AAAAAAAABe8/PIIZMzAiUDs/s400/Country%2BRoad%2B%2526%2BCorn.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sweet corn: Around 16,000 acres of the state's farmland is devoted to this specialty crop whereas in Iowa, sweet corn accounts for less than 4,000 acres. Annually, Iowa plants 12 to nearly 14 million acres of its farmland to field corn, however. P. A.'s acreage averages 1.5 million acres annually.</span></div>
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Along Country Roadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01716481624583109002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4695485082087994956.post-22301182976930718092015-08-26T10:14:00.003-07:002015-08-26T10:41:11.596-07:00and gold. . . . Plying the back roads soon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-R2pW-jEaM6Q/Vd3xMeUYcUI/AAAAAAAABes/BoycgZl1ECo/s1600/School%2Bbuses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-R2pW-jEaM6Q/Vd3xMeUYcUI/AAAAAAAABes/BoycgZl1ECo/s400/School%2Bbuses.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Every township, district, and community will be launching its fleet of yellow buses this week or next. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">"Riding the bus" is part of socialization and growing aware of one's community and its expectations. Many memories, good and ill, were fashioned on the bus.</span></div>
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<br />Along Country Roadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01716481624583109002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4695485082087994956.post-33946581591577252332015-08-04T10:28:00.003-07:002015-08-04T10:35:00.696-07:00Aunt Bea's Plymouth<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; background-color: white; color: #414141; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Aunt Bea's Plymouth</i> is my collection of short stories and essays from the farm largely and from Pennsylvania most often. Most appear on a sister blog, <i>Along Cotton Road</i>, its link to the right on this page. Since they are set in "P. A.", I tend to post them here as well. Hope you enjoy.</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: medium;">“</span><span style="font-size: large;">Orlo and Eva”</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i></i><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“Oh, Miss Cotton, grand to see y’.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“Well, Eva, so good to be here, and may I present my nephew, Jimmy. He likes to tag along.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We were ushered into the dining area of the huge country kitchen where a sweating pitcher of lemonade awaited on a checkerboard table cloth. A cup full of spoons sat precisely in the confluence of red and white squares, the cup a fixture for the morning’s “coffee time” and, if the workload permitted, one in the afternoon. With a sigh, Eva heaved herself down to the table after pouring us the home-squeezed juice sweetened by sugar and a dash of maple syrup. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">She was not a heavy woman, in fact, rather spare. But her manner told us she was dealing with weighty matters. Her complexion matched the checkerboard, flushed and dewy with exertion or concern.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“I do need a visit . . . and I know you’ens will keep this to ourselves here.” She managed a smile in my direction. My Aunt Bea cocked her head, her gesture of concern and concentration. Eva smoothed the table top, clearing it of any ripples. “We’ve just had a family . . . well, not a rift. . . . Guess y’ might call it a ‘little tiff,’ or such like.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“Oh, unsettling, those.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“Yes’m. We finally got enough money from the insurance company to pay the kids a little wages after their old house burned down. An’ Bill, that’s our new son-in-law, asked Orlo if the check was for Linda too. Linda’s our daughter here on the farm,” Eva told me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“So, Bill tells Orlo, ‘She’s been working as hard as I am.’ Well, truth of it, the kids have been working ‘specially hard, y’ know, cleaning up the mess over there and sortin’ through what they might salvage, plus all the haying and startin’ now on the grain. Linda milks in the morning and I try to help at night. That’s how we do in the summer when there’s so much to do.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“Well, Orlo came in all fussed up about it and said, ‘Guess Bill thinks Linda needs on the payroll now.’</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“Orlo din’t know quite how to answer Bill. An’ later that next morning, Bill met me in the garden and said that he and Linda were a new ‘unit’ now and that since she got married, she can’t be what he called ‘your dutiful daughter any longer. When Linda and I married,’ Bill tells me, ‘it meant she became . . . separate . . . and needs to be paid <i>by</i> the farm for<i> </i>the work she does<i>on</i> the farm.’</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“Well, I din’t know what to say neither. He said it nicely, kindly, but Orlo, like he does, got all huffy ‘bout the matter to me. He said, ‘I know there’s nothing writ down but we’re fair and honest people. Have been since we first settled this valley. Shysters didn’t last back then.’”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“An’ I told Orlo, ‘Times are a-changin’, Dad. Now I’m sorry we din’t pay them more like I wanted. It’s not easy, them just married and living in a tent.’”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“‘We’re gonna help them rebuild,’ says Orlo, meaning the money’s comin’ out of our pocket which is only right. An’ fair. We can’t expect those kids to pay much as they’re both just startin’ out an’ all.” Eva hoisted the pitcher and refreshed our glasses.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“I dunno. Family matters get complicated. Bill’s a nice enough boy and is educated about how things should be done these days.” Eva looked my way. “He just graduated from Penn State in the ag department. Orlo says books and lectures only go so far, that Bill would be better advised to shed some of those notions and accept things that are proven. What do you think, Miss Cotton? You’ens been through some of this, I ‘spect, coming from a big family an’ all.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“Yes, one can have some misunderstandings, especially when there’s land and the farm involved and passing it down. The Cottons tried to be fair but realistic.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“We only paid Bill $250 for nearly two months of work, hard work, way long hours. I din’t feel quite right about it but with the crops not in yet and Orlo death on going to the bank, it just din’t work very well right now. I told Orlo we prob’ly oughter pay Linda a little somethin’. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“An’ he just clammed up like he can and then y’ know nothing will get done unless everyone sees things his way. I dunno.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“Perhaps, Eva, there’s someone you could talk to at the bank or with the county agent about wages and what arrangements some of the other families have made around here.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“We might,” Eva nodded. “I might. I’m just afraid Bill and Linda might take a notion to move down with his people and settle there. There’s no place for them on the farm down there but they could get town jobs at State College, and he knows a lot of folks in the extension service. Problem is, we’ll need more help here some day as it’s gettin’ harder for Dad to roll out in the morning.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“An’ Orlo says, ‘Kids today gotta accept that farming’s their life and not their nine-to-five job. Y’ give up high wages and vacations to live on the place your forbears built for y’ and make it your own and for your kids some day.’”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“An’ I tell him, ‘We’re not getting any younger and what am I to do if you go first?’” </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">She stood and closed the kitchen window now being spattered by the afternoon shower. “Linda said the check was less than minimum wages today in 1955 and Orlo says right back, ‘Well, you’ll have a house soon enough, better’n the old house, plus there’s meals here and we pay the co-op for the lights an’ such. Gas to go to town, if y’ like.’</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“I’m just afraid Bill will decide he’s just the . . . h-hired man around here and there’s no future,” Eva said over the quiver in her voice. “Bein’ a hiredee is not what I want for my daughter. My own father lived such a way and it’s no good for a man, not someone of Bill’s ambitions.” She leaned on the table and didn’t hide her anguish. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“Orlo’s aging and he won't go to the doctor. We both live in the past like it was today––I know we do.” Eva sat down and studied the checkerboard covering the worn and creaking table, then poured herself a lemonade to the rim. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“One thing, we gotta change the cows out, quit milking day and night and buy sucklers at the yard and let them graft when the cows freshen . . . I say. Orlo says, ‘Not until I cannot do it anymore. Those Guernseys are my father’s legacy and not to be abused with bein’ bunted around by a bunch of sickly Holstein calves and crossbred mongrels.’ So there we are and here we are,” she laughed. “Two hundred years of history and a hundred years behind the times.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We left once the shower had passed on. As we drove down the lane and passed their mailbox, Aunt Bea noted the lettering: “Orlo Fisk and Eva”. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">“That tells you a lot,” she said.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>###</span></div>
<br style="background-color: white; color: #414141; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, 'Palatino Linotype', Palatino, serif; font-size: 13.1999998092651px; line-height: 18.4799995422363px;" />Along Country Roadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01716481624583109002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4695485082087994956.post-9569026469001959362015-08-03T16:40:00.001-07:002015-08-03T16:48:49.492-07:00A Summer Scene Fading down Memory Lane<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SHeqPm2RQY8/Vb_7-flMD5I/AAAAAAAABcs/edan8rAGRs8/s1600/My%2BCousin%2BJack%2Bat%2BBrown%2BFarm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SHeqPm2RQY8/Vb_7-flMD5I/AAAAAAAABcs/edan8rAGRs8/s640/My%2BCousin%2BJack%2Bat%2BBrown%2BFarm.jpg" width="490" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here's my cousin Jack on the left, his cousin and uncle putting up hay, loose and pitchfork style. Wonder if pitchforks aren't becoming relics today, hanging on the wall as decor rather than tools used daily around the farm and especially at haying time back in the 1940s and Fifties.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Note the big lamps this John Deere is sporting. And the quality of this black and white rendering: really crisp detail and nice contrast.</span></div>
<br />Along Country Roadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01716481624583109002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4695485082087994956.post-43274104407336465212015-07-16T11:08:00.003-07:002015-07-16T11:12:16.706-07:00Pittsburgh Airport<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uNFZcvnTqco/Vafy3QmiTzI/AAAAAAAABas/fjDbF5W_0Xg/s1600/Pittsburgh%2BAirport.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uNFZcvnTqco/Vafy3QmiTzI/AAAAAAAABas/fjDbF5W_0Xg/s640/Pittsburgh%2BAirport.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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Shot this scene at the Pittsburgh Airport during a recent layover there. The ramp was closed until this storm passed through the area.Along Country Roadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01716481624583109002noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4695485082087994956.post-91259772042901760392015-07-16T11:05:00.003-07:002015-07-16T11:20:18.644-07:00Whether Summer or Winter . . . <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iojcrKCDjBE/VafxbW4sjYI/AAAAAAAABag/KXyR-FuT8pY/s1600/Horse%2BShow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iojcrKCDjBE/VafxbW4sjYI/AAAAAAAABag/KXyR-FuT8pY/s400/Horse%2BShow.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">horse shows are frequently in season. There is nothing quite as exciting as watching a six-up hitch come boiling into the arena. This big guys know they're the show and they're ready to show off!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Pennsylvania hosts a variety of these all across the state. State and county fairs are good places to view. This scene is from the Keystone International Livestock Expo, Harrisburg.</span>Along Country Roadshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01716481624583109002noreply@blogger.com0