May Travels Memories 3 0f ?

This will be our last full day in da burgh' area because we depart for Gettysburg tomorrow, some <200 miles from here on the PA turnpike, aka toll road where as you know we will be consigned to cash lines at the booths along the way.  We are both anxious to see the battlefield and compare it to our Vicksburg experience.  I awoke this morning and recited Lincoln's Gettysburg address which I memorized long ago in school but which is retrieved readily today--"Fourscore and seven years ago Our forefathers brought forth ...." well you can look it up, but it will remain with me forever.  Somewhere along the way the brilliant academicians determined that memorization was no longer a useful skill and today the same brilliance in education and lack there of  brings us a nation of graduates who cannot think, make change, nor do much of anything without their pods, pads, earbugs. Judging from what I get in writing or online from our own family university  graduates (i.e. recently, "the adventure has began.," to which I shudder) but the downward spiral of education  continues.   I suspect soon we will be a nation of lowest level nincompoops who merely graze finger tips over screens, know-naughts, who once would have been considered "slow" will have taken over, oh what happens  once those signals to the screens are dimmed, 1984 we are beyond you now....but I digress.

Yesterday was lunch with Dayna at the new Loafin' Bakery and Cafe right on Leechburg Rd in Lower Burrell, walking distance within uncle's house.  Two local women have fixed up a house and there make home made cookies, scones, brownies, quiche and salads--it is just the kind of place the area needs and I sure do hope they make it.  We were the only ones in there yesterday until a man came in and had a pastry and coffee.  That is not going to pay the cost of staying open, so c'mon locals, support these hometown gals! 

Yesterday was also cemetery day when I decorate and  fix up the graves and although I intended to photo the hillsides, I did not.  Somehow I neglect to take camera along, I suppose because I know there will be another time.  All grass is trimmed from the family markers  on the plots and flowers are in the urns.  Greenwood Cemetery  has no head stones, all the graves are flat bronze markers, for ease of mowing, but when I visit I brush all grass that blows across the markers off; yesterday's wind meant I could hardly keep it off, but at least for a moment all was clear and glistening.   Soon the veterans flags will all be displayed and there are  many here, nearly every male was a veteran.  My sandals were bugging me as I knelt and clipped so I took them off and proceeded along the grass barefooted which rapidly brought memories of my grandma's voice  "Patty, you put your shoes on you're gonna get hookworm!"   Some things stay with us forever....some things we recall when we are back where it all began.  

Today is a grocery store stop and I just might get to Mazzioti's bakery again to load up on great biscotti for the trip. 

May Travels food, and WTH Post 2 of ????

After I departed to California from Pennsylvania in the 60"s as a young gal,  with stars in my eyes, on the wrong path impulsive first marriage that would come to naught,  I still knew for sure that  I would never again live in my home state.  That's become a complicated term to me, "home state"  where is my home state?  For example when folks ask where I'm from and tell me that I  have an accent  as happens at times in Minnesota where we reside and where they do have accents, I launch with a sigh into my history, "I'm from California and grew up in Pennsylvania.but now we live in Minnesota."   Being Minnesotans who never ventured  farther than Wisconsin, they silently roll their eyes and confirm, "oh a Californian."  Truthfully I  lived in California far longer (40+ years) than I did in Pennsylvania and now we reside in Minnesota, Jerry's home state, adding to the number of years I have been gone from home.  Because no matter that my primary relatives all now reside securely in cemeteries, Pennsylvania is still home. But I know I will never live here. 
 Home is always home and as Robert Frost told us, it's the place where when we go there they have to take us in.  Hmm,  maybe not so, except  that yes, my childhood friends in Pennsylvania still do take me in and welcome both of us.  And that makes coming home, home after all. 
Like my estate attorney and old school pal who just educated me in the appropriate purchase of Chianti wine.  I  gave up Chianti years back because I did not like the taste, but Richard patiently explained  to me that there has been a bastardization of true Italian Chianti and to get it right I must limit my purchase to  Chianti Classico.  The Italian government,  fed up with the inferior  variations, and semblances of Chianti established standards and so today real imported Chianti is the Classico.  And you know what, Richard was right and  so we have enjoyed excellent Chianti with the traditional , real Italian food I get only when I come home to Pennsylvania--Chianti, is the wine to accompany pasta's, the Italian sauces, provolone, Wedding Soup; it's the wine one almost eats not drinks.  Shades of  old Mr. Luigi DeSanto,  across the street who made his own wine---red, aka Dago Red.  And as always coming homes means getting authentic food--Polish, Italian, bakeries of pastries and breads galore, real provolone, real salami, real pepperoni,,,,,and even great steak houses.  Good food, and extra  work outs mandatory. People here like to eat and all restaurants are filled every day and night, every day not just weekends.  I don't think anyone cooks around here, families, etc. everyone is eating out--and yet they will complain about the economy--go figure.  My friends and I cannot understand this but we are the older generation now you know.
But enough of the food, we had an experience that confirms why I will never live in the rip off-aholic state of Pennsylvania, although it is not near the level of California, it has some annoying practices instituted to part the fool and his money  or to absolutely affirm, buyer beware.  Pennsylvania has toll roads as do many eastern states, not such a bad thing  because the users of the roads pay the  price, however many who live here assert they have more than paid for the highways, over all these years of toll collections.  To this lament, I think, wise up and "kwitcher bitchin" know that once a fee aka tax is enacted it never  goes away--just like government programs it takes on a life of its own, it is perpetual.  Well, there is something known as an I-Pass in Illinois and in  Pennsylvania, an E-ZPass and I don't know what the term is in other states.  We often have considered  buying one which  means placing money in an account, on deposit, which is withdrawn electronically to get through the toll booths more quickly without having to wait in cash lines and face the  toll takers. The device and account can be used on toll roads in 14 states.   Well, we think about it when we are on toll roads and then once home forget about it until the next trip. There is a way to prepay  this online, but we are ready to   depart it is too late because one needs the gadget to display on the windshield  for electronic  scanning,  But  not to worry, we are in my home state where they are ever anxious to part the contents of purse ($) from the person and in my home state they sell these EZ Passes at certain super stores like Giant Eagle, here in New Kensington. So yesterday, Jerry stopped at Giant Eagle, gave them $43.99 and triumphantly became the owner of an EZPass Device.  This will enable us to whiz along the toll road on our next leg of this journey to Gettysburg.

 Here is a lin http://www.paturnpike.com/ezpass/ezpassINTRO.htm

All smug until later, we read the tiny small print which stipulates the EZPass is only for vehicles up to 7000 pounds.  Wait a minute!  We  drive a 41 foot  motor home and tow a vehicle; we exceed that weight limit  more than thrice!  So we call the Pennsylvania Department of Turnpike and in no time do reach a real live person in Harrisburg, not some East Indian in Mumbai!  Aha, Pennsylvania employment at work.  Jerry reports our dilemma to which the  response is "well they should have told you that when they sold it to you.  You need a commerical EZPass."  Jerry explains we are not commercial.  but alas that is no one's problem but our own. So what can be done, not so fast, there Bunky. The device must be activated before it can be used.  Jerry explains we cannot use it because we are driving a motor home and exceed the weight limit.  "Oh right, then you need a commercial EZ Pass" comments the rep who goes on to explain we must activate it regardless, on line and then we can mail it back and get some of our $$ refunded. That's right, some of the $$.    By this time, generally patient calm Jerry has  lost all patience and  hung up feeling he has encountered Abbott and Costello's rendition of "Who's on First?"  But I remind him it's my home state--it's Groundhog Day for sure.  Well not to worry, I figure we have not even opened the sealed plastic container so we will just take this thing right back to Giant Eagle tomorrow, which is today now.  We have not used it and surely they can just refund the $43.99.   Wrong, they cannot do that and tell Jerry they will call the Pennsylvania Turnpike Commission for him---now he knows it's Groundhog Day stuck on the record and reel.  Same story, different day, and no way is Giant Eagle taking this EZ Pass back.  So we are stuck with sending it to Harrisburg, which we will pass on our way to Gettysburg; furthermore we are advised to send it registered mail at a higher cost to ourselves for proof of mailing and my home state will sometime when it is convenient for them or when the Groundhog sees his shadow refund a portion of the $43.99, etc. Yes that is right, this is Pennsylvania, the Commonwealth where I know for sure I will never be living.  Big rip off and another way to part the contents of the purse from the person.   Why don"t they publicize this EZ Pass is not for motor homes who must roll with the big rigs and purchase commercial EZ's. Likely they think we are out here earning big bucks in our rigs? 

May Travels 1 of ?? posts



Rainbow at Mt Top RV
Tarentum, PA

Just for fun I'm posting our trip looking back over the road miles so far while starting out with the rainbow here this evening in Pennsylvania after the short heavy cloudburst.  It absolutely would not be my home here if we did not have a shower or two duriong our stay, good PA rain just as I remember it from childhood when I  always tried to sneak off the porch or out the door  to run through the thunder storms, attracted to the downpours and distressing my grandmother or mom, both of whom sought to keep me dry while explaining to me the dangers of thunder and lightning.  My fascination continues today with living in the Midwest, although I do know not to get involved with lightning, I did outgrow that attraction, still I do enjoy watching a good downpour which I fancy as earth cleansing.



Jerry at Longhorn's door

We celebrated Jerry's birthday this evening at a favorite chain Longhorn Steakhouse,  and Jerry being a steak guy was quite pleased to return there.  Sure wish we had such a quality restaurant and steakhouse back home in MN.  We were early this evening but business was booming which indicates the economy is just not that bad in this neck of the woods.  Longhorn is at the Pittsburgh Mills Mall which hosts the gamut of restaurants Smokey Bones, Olive Garden, Red Robin, and ever so many more and every single one was busy--imagine that in Tarentum, PA on a Monday night, every one is eating out.   To the right is the birthday boy himself ready to enter although it sure looks as if he is questioning whether this is the place, whether this is what he wants to do, or maybe whether Longhorn is ready to provide the meal and service he expects.  We did and they did and all was great, goodtime had by all.

We are here 886 miles more logged onto the motor home this trip, 16.5 hours drive time, 132.9 gallons of diesel including a full tank now, $527 poorer with diesel fill ups, and the end of our  5th day of this venture but only $225 for lodging and that is paid up through next Sunday.  We have been blessed with good travels so far and today checked on Uncle's house (it will always be Uncle's house to me although he is gone  and I have the estate to  administer).  All is in order and other than a couple burned out light bulbs where evidently the realtors who have been inside neglected to turn lights off after leaving. all is OK.  The lawn needs a good mowing, so that meant a follow up nag to my nephew who runs a lawn and landscape service and assures me he is taking care of it all.  If that is really so, and I have to trust that it is, why when we showup  isn't the lawn freshly mowed?    We used all the roundup that we had left behind last year  on the bumper crops of weeds and giant thistles in the flower beds which no longer sport the flowers that Aunt Marge used to cultivate.   Because I worry about getting this home sold so that we can close out and settle the estate, I am grateful that all seems as in order as can be expected.  We will be meeting with the  realtor this week as well as the estate attorney and accountant.  Sigh......

Our first night of travel  we stopped for an over night  at  Caboose Lake Campground RV in Remington, Indiana.  This is a lovely RV site used by many local families in the area as a destination for weekends. Downside is that it is right along interstate 65 and the constant traffic from that highway makes sleeping difficult.  Jerry can sleep anytime anywhere, but I didn't get much rest despite using ear plugs.  There are many amenities here including a trout stocked lake and  easy access off Highway 24 which we drive across Indiana, wide pull through level sites, but I wonder why they don"t  plant trees  as a sound barrier to the interstate.  

Our first destination on the way though was  Decatur, IN to visit  friends Barb and Paul, who live on the outskirts of Monroe, IN and to  see their new home; they sold the farm house and barn to one of the sons and built a beautiful spacious home on the property.  I did not take a picture of their spacious 2000 sq ft. open floor plan with the same square footage downstairs in the finished basement complete with another kitchen.  Barb joked that not only could  they wheel around if they ever end up in wheel chairs but if they  need live in care takers, they can live on one floor and the caregivers on the other.  Barb has retired from her catering and cake decorating business but with 7 grand daughters from ages 3 to 23 and 2 sons and families all living near along  with cousins and long time friends she is always cooking and baking. She has a small chest freezer  filled with cookies alone that she bakes continuously for everyone to enjoy.  She had a pie ready for us, something called Indiana Cream which is delicious and which Jerry, the pie eater in chief has been eating nightly.  Barb has been using the kitchen downstairs and said since moving in Thanksgiving she still has not cooked a meal in the upstairs kitchen. 



Berne, IN Clcoktower  

Saturday May 5 was Kentucky Derby Day but we were both so full from dinner the night before with Barb and Paul and constant food from breakfast to midday, we  watched without snacking.  However before the race, I journeyed into Berne to see the local attraction--the Swiss clock tower park.  This area is replete with Amish but many of the others are descendants of Swiss settlers.  For several years the tiny town of Berne hosts Swiss Days right around the July 4th holidays; and for a few years there has been work to build  a clock tower park in the midst of the town.  There are local jokes about the cost of this, but it is a beautiful center and certainly a place depicting their heritage.  The massive clock tower still needs work and friends said the hands of the clock fell off shortly after they were attached calling for more craftsmanship. 

I think they can be rightly proud of their park, completed now at a time when so many municipalities are barely able to make a go of it, the hardworking diligent citizens of Berne with strong work ethic have built a monument to their heritage and the wisdom of remaining true to their values is center visible to anyone who drives by.




Swiss banners in the Clocktower Park 
Berne, Indiana

Shopping nonsense

I used to enjoy shopping a lot more than I do today.  I don't know if it is because I seldom find anything to get excited about, there is little I need, things seem too expensive,  and or shopping like so many other activities just ain't as much fun as  it used to be.  It seems there is an avalanche of junk all made in China sitting around the stores, awaiting the reach of the  shopper.  Really, things used to be much more interesting, at least that's how I remember it.  Like this  photo of an ornate wire type bottle with a little grill plate on which one can write a note, and into which one can put  corks from the wine bottles.  Really.  But to carry this absurdity farther, this cork holder is $29, which you can see in the description in the upper left corner.  Seriously, who would spend $30 on that?  Obviously someone because it is a featured item at a little local gift boutique where I browse from time to time. 

Wine is my preferred beverage; it's my go to alcoholic drink, so I accumulate wine bottle corks.  I have always saved these corks and from time to time there is a decorative need for them; once in CA I lined a  wooden tray with them and  made a  cork board which was handy near the computer for sticking notes and articles on.  Several years ago a neighbor' daughter had a way to use wine corks for place card holders at her wedding reception and I was able to supply all she needed from my accumulation.  I don't know why but it started long ago--once I had a huge glass fishbowl on our coffee table and  filled it with corks.  Today I store corks in a couple of different places, but the thought of spending $30 for a place  in which to dump my corks, is beyond my comprehension.  

 

Pounded aluminum pitcher of corks

Our 4 season room houses one of my Longaberger baskets and an older  aluminum pitcher collect my corks.  You could use almost anything if you save corks as I do.  Maybe it's time to stop saving them, but then.......again, what harm in keeping corks?  I use that line a lot in justification, what harm, or better yet, I could be doing worse things. 

 I still love a bargain, but with a house  filled with stuff, determining the need to acquire bargains once spotted is more difficult.  I have no transition children nearby trying to furnish a home, so there is no need for me to accumulate on behalf on anyone else.  Anna Quindlen's recent column in the Sunday Parade magazine made me laugh out loud, I so related.  If you missed it, here is a link--it's short and sweet and so very spot on.  http://www.parade.com/news/2012/04/22-is-your-stuff-weighing-you-down.html  in part--
"I didn’t have all this stuff when I was young and single. None of us did. It was a big deal to have blinds and coffee mugs.........At some point desire and need became untethered in our lives, and shopping became a competitive sport"   Well, you gotta follow the link. 

I do not like clutter and so at least with this big house, I can confine my  miscellany to areas unseen if someone just stops in, like the downstairs study/computer/project room where works in progress reside.  And so with being full up, comes a reluctance to look for more which has heavily curtailed my former shopping expeditions.  Now I will search for unique items for gifts or for  antiques, collectibles to add to any of my collections of angels, glassware, etc. but to just shop and buy China made merchandise, I have less interest all the time.  And because we are filled to the brim, well that's a good thing . 

Lime's the hue and miguet the scent

Snowball bush front of house next to red bayberry shrub

Gorgeous lime green abounds all around outside already from the balmy March and early spring.  Several people have asked me what I did  to our snowball bush this year because of its brilliant lime cascade.  Honestly I can take no credit for Mother Nature's magnificence.  This year the trouble free bush has outdone itself reaching to the eaves this early and covered in lime hue blooms; all that happens is after blooming Jerry whacks it back to half it's size or it would be over the roof and into the siding. It gets about two whack cuts a year.   The flowers are usually white but this year they have a wild Irish lime tinge that is spectacular and different from others in the neighborhood.  This shrub was planted by the previous owners,  is likely about 20 years old, prospering, and happily left alone it is glorious.

Close up of snow ball branch

It's Latin horticultural name is  Viburnum opulus 'Roseum' and is  known as a very adaptable plant, with a mature height of 10-12 ft., Viburnum is touted as perfect for hedges and screens bu this baby stands alone along the front, outside a guest bedroom window. This shrub gives  all the beauty and none of the fuss.  From  a gardener's catalogue: "You’ll enjoy large hydrangea-like blooms in early summer, sometimes reaching the size of a softball! As a large mounding shrub, Viburnum is ideal for that showy formal hedge or privacy screen. Space 8-10 ft. apart for a full compact screen. "

There you have it, early summer bloom  indeed this year here up north where things always bloom later than they did in California or certainly later than farther south, our snowball bush is ahead and headlong into early summer, despite a few nights of evenings cooling to light frosts.  These blooms are indeed softball size.  There is no scent, which makes them ideal for table arrangements where a floral smell sometimes conflicts with food aromas. 

I like to cut limbs for floral arrangements but  this year, the blooms are ahead of the iris and maybe two weeks past the prime of the lilacs with which it makes a spectacular show.   But we are preparing to depart in our motor home this week to Indiana first to visit friends and then on to PA to check on things for the estate and the house which still is on the market.  So I will not be enjoying snowball bouquets.  I remember that Aunt Marie had one of these bushes and when we visited later in the year it could be found in bloom in June and July and sometimes hers would give a second bloom with fewer flowers.  Our bush never blooms twice and after this full bouquet display it merits a rest and retreat to leaves for the remainder of its growing season. 

Lily of the valley

There is a scent that I absolutely adore in the air now in the back of the house as the Lily of the valley bed puts on it's show for the year.  This is the first flower I recall from childhood, they grew on the side of our front lawn bank where I grew up in Pennsylvania.  I would stick my head  deep down inside them and breathe in the scent as a toddler which horrified my grandmother who annually campaigned to remove them because she claimed they were poisonous.  But I cried and fussed so that she was ever watchful allowing me to smell most carefully but then promptly took me inside to thoroughly wash my face and hands and sometimes even changed my clothes.  I would sneak a favorite doll outside to that bank when I could intrigued by anything that was off limits to me at an early age.  As I got older, I could not believe this lovely smell could be harmful and was sure it was just an old Polish folklore.  That must have been when Mom swung into Lily of the Valley complete eradication and soon they bloomed no more on the banks of our lawn.  I thought that dreadful, but like so many things she said it was to "protect me"  more likely she  said, "it's for your own good."  Not much that was for my "own good" appealed to me as a child.  

Lily of the valley sprig with one of
our outdoor cherubs 

So I was surprised to see that "Convallaria majalis commonly known as the Lily of the Valley, is a poisonous woodland flowering plant native throughout the cool temperate Northern Hemisphere in Asia and Europe. A limited native population occurs in Eastern USA "  I guess my old grandma knew her poisons but I still adore these flowers, and have kept  a life long love of the scent.  So today after getting some extra smells in and admiring some sprigs which came inside into tiny bottles, I did carefully wash my hands and nose with lava soap just as if I had been in poison ivy.  How can something so gorgeous be so bad?  Isn't that just the  downside of Mother Nature, temptation is sweet but sweetness can be harmful.  

There are many legends associated with Lily of the valley according to Wikipedia:       "The flower is also known as Our Lady's tears or Mary's tears from Christian legends that it sprang from the weeping of the Virgin Mary during the crucifixion of Jesus. Other etiologies its coming into being from Eve's tears after she was driven with Adam from the Garden of Eden or from the blood shed by Saint Leonard of Noblac during his battles with a dragon.   The name "lily of the valley" is also used in some English translations of the Bible in King Solomon's Song of Songs 2:1.  It is a symbol of humility in religious painting. Lily of the valley is considered the sign of Christ's second coming. The power of men to envision a better world was also attributed to the lily of the valley.

In Germanic mythology lilies are associated with the virgin goddess of spring Ostara. The lily symbolizes life to Pagans and the blooming of lily of the valley flower heralds the feast of Ostara. The sweet fragrance and whiteness of the flowers symbolize the humility and purity of its patron goddess."

It is a toss up today whether my favorite floral scent is rose or lily of the valley.    Other names  include May lily, May bells, lily constancy, ladder-to-heaven, male lily, and muguet, which is French and which I recall Coty made a toilet water so named.  

We have iris beds in the back along the house and there is landscape barrier cloth over which hundreds of lava rock have been piled to prevent weeds from growing.  But I noticed a few lily of the valleys sprouted and that was all it took to get my subversionary tactics in full gear.   It has taken me these 7 years here in Minnesota to achieve the growth of this lily of the valley bed between the irises, by  opening holes in the landscape cloth all to Jerry's dismay.  He has objected almost the same way  my Grandma did when she caught me in the lilly of the valleys.  Only he objects because he wanted nothing growing there--and laments why did I have to get these "weeds" started.  Finally he acquiesced as he will do in most battles with me, so I enjoy the lovely scent of miguet wafting upward to me as soon as I step out the back garage door. 

   

Uncle John's wallet

Aunt Jinx and Uncle John in 1974

In 2009 after Aunt Jinx died and we had her home to clear and sell, we found Uncle John's last wallet.  He died in 1994 but as I have mentioned before, my family were the original savers, recyclers and never tossed anything that "you just might need to use someday."  The wallet, a magnificent  tooled leather piece, was still usable, so no way would it be discarded.  What is perhaps more comical is that we merely had it shipped to MN in the drawer of the antique dresser where it resided.  Uncle John's wallet is still there today along with my Granpap Teofil's wallet and several others. that Jinx saved.  To the mix, I have added a few of my purse style wallets and check book holders that I no longer use but, well, true to my genes, "might want it someday." 

Wallets in the drawer

Surely, "maybe someone will need a wallet someday and these are all like new."  The way things are going, if  our government keeps taxing us and taking our money, maybe wallets will become the next rare collectibles, antiques.  I am almost at that point myself, regarding a wallet as an antique.  I  seldom carry cash, only a few dollars that fit neatly into a small what used to be a "coin purse" into which I can slip my driver's license and ATM/debit card.   I don"t like the purse size wallets that hold  checkbook and all the cards.  I do not carry a checkbook with me at all; who needs that when we have our debit card?  Who writes checks?  We write few now a days.  We do most of our bill paying direct on line and Jerry, still a man with cash, withdraws and spends his money while there is nothing I need that will not be bought with debit card.  When we travel I do tote that along, but it has become passe.  I don't even like to carry much of a purse and find around home less and less need to, so I have a very small shoulder sling, although I do own a wide collection of purses too.  But this is about wallets, and this one of Uncle John's.

Uncle John's last wallet

I can visualize people in  2112 sitting wherever their congregating places might be and discussing this, (if they are still talking then and not texting each other or sticking their fingers in the air and merely exchanging brain waves), "Wow, you have a wallet!  Let me see that!"  To which another would comment, "A wallet---what was that?  What did they do with such things?"  And the eldest in the group might say, "I have read that once men and women carried wallets in which they kept their money and credit cards.." "Money?"  and to all this exchange of wonder, my future descendants could say, "I got this from the estate of my great great Aunt Pat who said it belonged to her uncle who died in 1994, that makes this wallet at least 118 years old.  It is made of something they called leather and the men carried them in their pockets."   Concepts like wallets, money, and even credit cards will be ancient to them and maybe they will not even know what a pocket is.  After all if one has nothing to carry along but an implanted earbud plugged in why would clothing have pockets?  You can continue this conversation along in your imagination and perhaps I am on the breaking edge of a new short story.  But all this thought comes from Uncle John's Wallet.

Somehing else was saved in his wallet that I have been waiting for the appropriate time to share here on the blog.  This is a newspaper clipping from what was the Daily Dispatch in my old hometown of New Kensington, PA in 1951.  Neither the gentleman nor the boy were identified.  I know it was none of my family because of the ages.  Uncle John may have known  the culprits or more likely he  found this amusing.  We laughed at this and thought of several things, first that the man is referred to as "elderly."  Really?  Hey that's not that old! And that would not have been so easily resolved today--the parents would have been litigious and so it would have gone.  But here is the 1951 newspaper clipping--say, that's another thing that is going the way of the wild goose, printed newspapers.  Many of us read online and no longer subscribe to home delivery.  We are hold outs here because Jerry likes the morning paper, sparse as it is, with his morning coffee, but I confess to going online and some days never touching the paper.  Nevertheless, here is what happened in 1951 in Arnold, PA. 

And all this is brought to you today courtesy of Uncle John's wallet in the antique dresser. 

Upper right drawer hold wallets

This dresser came from England and was owned by John's grandfather, the wealthy John R Irwin.  It is stunning and one of four huge heavy pieces to that bedroom set. 

Flying Flight or Fright Sepia Saturday 121



American B-25J Mitchell

For today's Sepia Saturday sharing, I selected a photo taken on our February  trip to the south at the USS Alabama Hangar and  Museum  in the harbor at Mobile,  Alabama.  While the main attraction was the battleship USS Alabama and the submarine the USS Drum, there were many historic planes on display and in the hangar. There was even work in process going on in the hangar which I watched in fascination while Jerry braved the descent into the submarine; the ships were not my cup of tea nor glass of wine.

Work at the hangar, keeping Sepia alive today

The B-25J photo is recent but the subject is certainly for times of Sepia,  the American B-25J Mitchell a twin engine strike bomber used by the US Army in WWII.  There was a crew of 6 men.  This plane with it's striking full nose art is in the yard outside.  It must have been a frightful sight approaching targets and it was meant to be. 

The B-25 first gained fame as the bomber used in the 18 April 1942 Doolittle Raid, in which 16 B-25Bs led by Lieutenant Colonel Jimmy Doolittle attacked mainland Japan, four months after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. The mission gave a much-needed lift in spirits to the Americans, and alarmed the Japanese who had believed their home islands were inviolable by enemy troops. While the amount of actual damage done was relatively minor, it forced the Japanese to divert troops for the home defense for the remainder of the war Originally designed for the US Army Air Corps, the B-25 was known world-wide as the most devastatingly effective medium-range bomber of its time. By the end of the war, nearly 10,000 B-25s had been manufactured for use as bombers, naval anti-submarine patrols, Air Force reconnaissance platforms, air-to-ground attack/strafing asset and VIP transport. To date, it is the only military aircraft ever named for an individual.

Wikipedia and other websites  provide quite a bit of  information about this plane manufactured by North American Aviation. The B-25 was a safe and forgiving aircraft to fly. With an engine out, 60° banking turns into the dead engine were possible, and control could be easily maintained down to 145 mph (230 km/h). The tricycle landing gear made for excellent visibility while taxiing. The only significant complaint about the B-25 was the extremely high noise level produced by its engines; as a result, many pilots eventually suffered from various degrees of hearing loss.

Crew members and operators on the airshow circuit frequently comment that "the B-25 is the fastest way to turn aviation fuel directly into noise". The Mitchell was also an amazingly sturdy aircraft and could withstand tremendous punishment. One well-known B-25C of the 321st Bomb Group was nicknamed "Patches" because its crew chief painted all the aircraft's flak hole patches with high-visibility zinc chromate paint. By the end of the war, this aircraft had completed over 300 missions, was belly-landed six times and sported over 400 patched holes.  Was that the first flying quilt?

By the time a separate United States Air Force was established in 1947, most B-25s had been consigned to long-term storage. However, a select number continued in service through the late 1940s and 1950s in a variety of training, reconnaissance and support roles.
For a look at what others share this week, click this link to the Sepia Saturday site and enjoy all the flights.
http://sepiasaturday.blogspot.com/2012/04/sepia-saturday-121-flight.html

Celebrate Easter

Along with "Here Come's Peter Cottontail"  which I must have first  heard by  by Gene Autry  that great Irving Berlin song, "Easter Parade" is my favorite seasonal melody for this time of the year.  If I am feeling  less than Easterly all I have to do is wind up my Easter music boxes  and hear the golden notes to bring back a smile. 

I unboxed some of my bunny collection  to display in the living room this past week.  I felt more Easterly after their appearance.  There is one from Steve and one from a young boy, Mikey who lived near us in Newcastle.  There are several from my departed best friend, Roberta, some funny plasitc wind ups with goofy faces.  Each bunny has a memory attached and I think this is why I like to take them out  and touch them.  I admit I do not  need these things to bring memories but they are seasonal dear reminders and so I will keep them.  True to bunnies, the collection has multiplied necessitating a slightly larger box in which to put them back to sleep after next week.  There are two porcelain rabbits acquired on our trip south last fall at a thrift store, I can't pass those up without looking  and one pinkish ceramic bunny picked up at a tag sale, someone made it and someone was tossing it so I added it to my bunnies.    In the box I discovered an autumnal elfin guy  complete with horn of plenty and  pumpkins; I don"t know how he got  in with the rabbits because he belongs in the separate box for fall.  Did those "wascally wabbits lure him?"    Did I allow him to remain in place from one fall until after an Easter when I would have boxed up the bunnies?  Minor unsolved mystery.

You might wonder what I mean by feeling Easterly but all you need do is hum along with  those songs.  It's the rhythm and the light spring in the music that uplifts an attitude.  Spring  arrived early this year bringing warm sunshine and  blooms that stimulate gladness in the soul.  It's the magical promise of Easter, the assurance that raises our spirits. I was blessed to be raised in faith and to know  the Easter story which is the triumph out of the darkest of times, redemption for the ages.  My maternal Grandmother, Rose, saved the Easter card to the right that her sister Francie  had sent her in the early 1960's after my grandfather had died.  The year following his death I remember my grandma saying as Easter approached, "we always have something to celebrate because it's Easter again."    I think of her wisdom, a push toward the sunshine like the spring flowers. 

I wish that happy feeling for everyone out there in blog land.  The Joys of Easter,  Happy Day!