Did Someone Say RV Road Trip?

Chris Gives Us A Tour of Erie, PA

Welcome to Mama Mia's Pizzaria - The Best Pizza In Erie

Family Fun In Ingersoll

Thank God We're On The Ground

The Balloonist's Prayer
The winds have welcomed you with softness.
The sun has blessed you with his warm hands.
You have flown so high and so well
that God joined you in laughter
and set you gently back into
the loving arms of Mother Earth.

June 24, 2008

Fort Henry Display of Military Discipline

New to Me!

Hershey Factory & Rideau Canal

June 22, 2008

Bolt Castle: Broken Hearts

Minnie Falls Park: A Hidden Jewel

June 4, 2008

Photo of Ed & Patty taken by Jonathan Hyman 2008

Ken & Mary Give Us Some Hometown Hospitality

Stories & Tour of FDR Home Make History Lesson Pleasant

No Photos Please, Except for the FDR Stable

We Need a President Like FDR

Our country needs another president like Franklin D. Roosevelt. I came to this conclusion after visiting the exhibit “The First 100 Days” at the FRD Presidential Library and Museum. A volunteer docent led me through this pictorial maze of history. Her narrative reminded me of the challenges faced by our nation at a time of the Great Depression. I learned how one man, a new president, charted a hopeful course without delay. Perhaps our nation can be so lucky again when the ballots are counted in November 2007.

FDR took the oath of office as President of the United States in 1933, a time of great economic struggle. Banks had closed their doors. Dust storms desecrated farm lands. Unemployment soared. Foreclosures took away family homes. Black and white photos flicking on three screens in a darkened room demanded silent reflection – rows of men lined around a city block at the soup kitchen, police controlling a crowd outside a bank, the sad faces of children, and the defeated look on a woman’s face. Seeing these photos made me think I was reading a book and knew there was a happy ending. But for the people in the photos, living back then some 76 years ago, the outcome was uncertain.

I took a seat in a room designed to look like a family kitchen. I light illuminated a radio and I heard one of FRD’s Fireside Chats. He promised quick action and asked the American people for support of his plan. He stirred hope. Telegrams, letters typed on corporate letterhead, and hand written notes flooded the White House. They were a mosaic of hope, wallpapered floor to ceiling in an adjacent exhibit room. I lingered to read as many as I could, straining to stand tip-toe to see the words higher up and crouching to read ones so low on the walls. The message running through all: Mr. President, do what you must to make our country strong and provide opportunity for the America people.

FRD inspired the spirit of optimism and he delivered innovative solutions to the country’s problems. He put men to work in the Civilian Conservation Corps, building bridges, government buildings, and dams. He reformed the banking system and instilled renewed trust in financial institutions. He took risk with the New Deal in a time of adversity and moved the nation forward.

After touring this special exhibit, I went back to look at the permanent artifacts, photographs, and documents. I learned about FRD’s privileged childhood, his battle with polio, his presidential years as he guided the country to victory in World War II, and his “First Lady” Eleanor. I studied the mementos and knickknacks on his Oval Office Desk. I admired his 1936 blue Ford Phaeton. I considered the decisions he must have debated in his Private Study. And, I smiled when I saw a case devoted to Fala, FRD’s Scottie dog’s bowl and collar.

I am not surprised that FDR – this extraordinary man - served as our President for a record of four terms.

June 12, 2008

Franklin D. Roosevelt Presidential Library and Museum,

4079 Albany Post Road, Hyde Park, NY

The Franklin D. Roosevelt Presidential Library and Museum is America’s first presidential library and

the only one used by a sitting president. The website is www.fdrlibrary.marist.edu

Crafting Phonograph Toys and Precision Tool Boxes

Accord, NY: An Outsider's Perspective

I Had to Go Back with Flags

“What is this place?” I wondered as I stepped over a drooping rope strung as if to deter trespassers. Grass grew high in spots and rain water lay stagnant in low spots. The figures rose as high as Indian totem poles I’d seen in museums but clearly these figures depicted individual men.

Two of the figures stood in bamboo cages. They wore camouflage uniforms and hats - one a beret, the other a military cap. Each reached a muscular arm through the fencing that made a cage around the bamboo structure. Were they reaching for help, maybe food, or a cup of water?

Beyond the cages were some figures of firemen. One rested his fists on his hips as if surveying the damage. Another held up a hand in a gesture of stop. The third held his arms in a suspended motion. Weeds grew high around their feet.

A carving that looked like the span of wings overhead rested across the tops of the two cages, an entrance of sorts, yet it appeared that something was missing.

“I have the eagle head in my garage,” said Jonathan Hyman. On a visit to the convenience store some time ago, Jonathan had noticed the eagle head had fallen from the overhead winged section. He wanted it preserved so he took the initiative to hold it for safekeeping.

This place was not Jonathan’s property. Someone else in town owned the lot. Jonathan confided, “Some people in the community think this place is an eyesore. Others, like me, see it as folk art.”

Jonathan is a well-known photographer who lives in Smallwood, New York. He had stopped at the Citgo to buy a coffee for himself and a afterschool snack for his daughter Jane. Ed had stopped here to buy his daily newspaper. I expected to wait in the car until the figures drew me to them.

I learned from Jonathan that the property owner Zak Zacarri's hired and paid a Ted Walker to come down from Peru, Maine to do the "wood carvings". Walker used only a chain saw to create these carvings. We speculated that Zak must have quit paying Ted since only a few of the firemen figures appeared to be finished. This place started as a memorial to prisoners of war and soldiers missing in action. The tribute to the firefighters of the 9/11 came later.

In the weeds, I found a marker and two tattered faded little American flags. It read:

In Memory of P.O.W.s and M.I.A.s

We Will Never Stop Looking

A day later, I returned to this place. I brought two new flags to replace the worn ones doing my small part to never forget the men of the armed forces who battled in wars and never came home, to never forget the brave firemen who lost their lives in the rescue of 9/11.

June 4, 2008

The wood carvings memorial is located on
New York Highway 17B
near Smallwood, NY in a lot next to a
Citgo gas station and convenience store.

"Always Play the Numbers"

I heard that advice from Billy, a security guard at the Bethel Woods Center for the Arts. I heard that advice from Tim, the teller at the horse track. And, I heard it a third time from John, the friendly guy who let us share a seat on an outside bench at the Monticello Gaming & Raceway. “Always play the numbers,” they each advised.

Monticello Raceway promises “World Class Racing Action.” On Thursday afternoon, Ed and I would see eight harness races at this track. We were boondocked in the parking lot of this New York gaming spot.

John told us he’d been coming to the track regularly for 20 years “just for the entertainment.” Over the years, he’s learned horses can disappoint you. “If a horse wakes up with a headache, no matter how good that horse has run in the past, no matter how good the jockey rides, no matter how hard the jockey cracks the whip…that horse just isn’t going to win if he doesn’t have a mind to perform.” With that explanation, John justified the theory we’d heard repeated “always play the numbers.”

John revealed us more than this tidbit of advice. He told us horse racing is an “old man’s sport” as he encouraged us to look around. John is 65. He didn’t expect to live to be this old. “I never worked regular jobs, got paid under the table most times. I thought I’d die young so what was the point of saving money and building up a reserve in Social Security.”

As we sat on that bench, John explained that he grew up in New York City, the youngest of three kids. “My brother and sister turned out okay, did well for themselves. I just decided that the 60s was a wild time and I was going to enjoy myself, and I did.” John admitted that in his younger days he slept all day and went out at night much to the worry of his parents. He avoided the draft by running away, and then paid the price a year later racking up legal fees for his Mom who helped get him out of trouble.

Back in 1969, John didn’t come to the Woodstock Concert although he tried to make the trip. He and his friends were headed to the concert when they heard on the car radio that a massive traffic jam shut down the New York Expressway. “I knew if I got up there and couldn’t get back with my Dad’s car, he’d be furious and report it stolen. I wouldn’t take that chance with Dad’s car. We turned back to the city.”

We learned about John in those 16 minute gaps between each race. And, we learned more about horse racing, the “scuttlebutt” he called it. He’d comment on the jockeys. He liked the guy with the asthmatic condition but sometimes the asthma attacks could knock this jockey out of the races for weeks at a time. He judged it “unfair” that the track photographer got fired for cashing a ticket left behind in a slot machine by a forgetful gambler. “The guy was just trying to make a buck.” He added sadly, “Why not let it go?” He pointed out owners whose horses would run in some the day’s races. Some were big time money people others were not. “Look at that guy’s clothes,” observed John. “You can tell his horses aren’t making him any money. He’s dressed like a bum.” Joe complained that some betters take the race to seriously. “They shouldn’t get mad, it’s horse racing for goodness sake,” he said with a shrug. “You cannot predict what a horse will do.”

All the while that John was talking, he was not betting. “You folks are saving me money today. I don’t need to bet. I am having fun talking to youse guys.” Then, he explained how the odds posted on the board change when off-track bets are added to the mix. From John, I learned about Trifectas, Perfectas and Exactas. We talked about Big Brown and speculated on the outcome of the June 7^th race at Belmont. “But what do I know,” said John, “I’m just a mo mo.”

In the seventh race of the afternoon, Ed and I finally placed our bets. Ed’s Exacta Box was 4, 5, 6 and I went with 1, 5, 6 – all numbers associated with our birthdays or age. A long shot came in the winner surprising even the best guys playing at the track. In race track tradition, they slapped their tickets to the ground.

We didn’t bother with a bet on the last race but John did. His bet paid off more than $700. He played his numbers and won!

June 5, 2008

Monticello Gaming & Raceway is located along New York Route 17B in Monticello, NY.

Level & Quiet: Another Boondocking Surprise

When Ed picks a spot for a night of boondocking, he looks for level pavement and listens for noise. He’ll drive in circles around a parking lot just to find a flat place. He’ll pull away from areas where there’s a roar of traffic or hum of industrial air conditioners. This particular evening he parked along a split rail fence away from New York Route 17B in the expansive, level lot of the Monticello Gaming & Raceway. It was a perfect spot for the night. Across the from the fence, we could see a vacant lot with some mounds of dirt randomly piled and dirt roads cut through the grassy areas. We had level and quite… until about 6 PM.

I had gone outside to take an early evening walk and visit on the cell phone with my friend Val. But our call got cut short, the noise from the lot nearly deafened me.

“Did you just give me the raspberries?” she laughed.

“WHAT?” I shouted.

“Raspberries? Did you just give me the raspberries?” Val repeated thinking I randomly started to make weird noises into the phone.

“No, no, no. It’s motorcycles.” I shouted over the noise. “Later girlfriend.” I flipped the phone shut.

Five guys clad in motorcycle race gear opened the throttles on their dirt bikes. Kawasaki and Yamaha bikes sprayed dirt from the rear tires as the riders each put a right leg down and leaned the bike into the curves. They wound it out on the straight-a-way and kept the revs ups approaching the dirt mounds. That’s when the show began. Riders took turns flying over the dirt mounds like stuntman. They were airborne and I was mouth-opened stunned.

We had parked next to a dirt bike race course where the club riders were practicing for an upcoming competition. I didn’t mind. The riders stopped racing when it got dark and I had a show like I never expected.

June 3, 2008

Be sure to get permission from Security at the Monticello before parking your RV here for the night.

Smallwood, NY

Tell Me, What Did They Find in the Vault of the Historic Lackawanna Station?

“Is there any merit to visiting the DL & W Station?” I asked our Steamtown guide as we rolled past. “Oh, yes!” he enthusiastically replied without giving me a clue as to why the Delaware, Lackawanna, & Western Railroad Station was so special. Greg Williams further piqued my interest in this historic place when he said, “Come by this evening. I’ll tell you what the locksmith found when he opened the old railroad vault?” I agreed to meet him at 6:30 PM.

I tried to use my imagination when I entered this grand historic train station. If I had been a traveler 100-years ago, I would have gone to one of the windows to purchase my ticket and checked the lobby clock for the correct time. I would have sat on the waiting room bench dreaming about the places I could go. Cayuga Lake, the Brooklyn Bridge in New York Harbor, Clarks Summit, the Delaware Water Gap, Swartswood Lake, and Niagara Falls are just some of the places illustrated by the 36 faience tiles surrounding the waiting room. Each would have stirred my wanderlust. I could have gone to any of these places from this hub of train travel until January 5, 1970. On that day, the trains stopped running here. The DL &W Station closed its doors to all but the trespassers and “bums” who slipped in uninvited. The Sienna marble walls and terrazzo tile floor in the station became crusted with the dust and dirt that accumulated from years of vacancy. And, the railroad vault remained locked.

The station never reopened again until New Year’s Eve, 1983. It was restored through the efforts of the Erie-Lackawanna Restoration Associates and converted to a hotel, The Hilton at Lackawanna. And then, years later in 2005, the hotel changed hands to join the Radisson worldwide network of hotels.

Today, the DL &W Station approaches its centennial celebration. Travelers now come to the Radisson Lackawanna Station Hotel Scranton for a number of reasons. Some stay a night or take up extended lodging perhaps in the Phoebe Snow suite or any one of the 145 guest rooms. Many enjoy a meal in Carmen’s Restaurant, a glass of wine in the Lobby Lounge wine bar, or lighter meal with a cold beer in the casual atmosphere of Trax Restaurant. For others coming to one of the many banquet rooms, it’s a momentous occasion like a wedding, conference, business meeting or afternoon tea party. I came because of the Steamtown ranger’s endorsement and a Monday meeting of the Rotary Club of Scranton.

I asked many questions about the history of the DL & W Station over a lunchtime Rotary meal. Then I was promised that my inquisitiveness would be satisfied if I returned later in the day. Greg Williams would be my guide through this luxury hotel uniquely linked to railroad history and listed on The National Register of Historic Places. Greg was my source for the mystery of what the locksmith found in the vault.

Greg’s business card lists his title as Corporate Sales Manager for the Radisson Lackawanna Station Hotel. I’d take the liberty to add Historian to his title. When he joined the Radisson staff over a year ago, Greg dug into the history of the DL & W Station. He keeps his research in a desk file. He let me read copies of pages from local history books on Scranton mentioning the train station. He shared photos of the 1982 interior clean-up and exterior shots proclaiming the comeback of this historic railroad building. Without Greg as my guide, the intricacies of this building would have been missed or false assumptions made.

We started our tour in the hotel lobby, the area formerly served as the spacious waiting room for train passengers. Scenic Greuby tile murals encircle the four walls each illustrates places from Hoboken to Niagara Falls where the early passenger trains departing from Scranton, Pennsylvania once stopped. The original clock still keeps time and hangs prominently along the second floor railing. And, the stained glass ceiling arched overhead.

The walls seemed less obvious than these grand features until Greg called my attention to the marble. Three distinct colors of marble blend to create the walls and round pillars. Greg ran his hand over the smooth finish, “This marble is butterscotch. Can you see this section is more of a mauve color? The base is jade green.” The marble came from Italy. “Miners cut and numbered each piece of marble extracted so they could be shipped and assembled here to create a mirrored effect,” Greg explained. Then, he traced a finger on the lines of the marble all intersecting, perfectly amazing. Still drawn to the marble, Greg asked, “Do you see the angels in this wall?” Yes, I could see the angels – white wings, flowing gowns, and faces – as if they’d been petrified in the marble by an artist’s talented hand.

In the Station Ballroom off the lobby, a green tile wall rose from the floor to the ceiling. This Greg told me this is one of the original exterior walls of the train station which faced the train tracks. Ticket windows cut into the tile wall allowed folks traveling by train to buy tickets without entering the main station. Today, the windows are closed and look like wooden shutters placed evenly along the green tile wall. Above us metal beams extended perpendicular from the green wall. Historically, the beams supported a roof over the train tracks to protect passengers from rain and snow. The area was enclosed in the 1983 renovation to create this functional room.

In Trax Restaurant, I sat on one of the original benches preserved from the train station waiting room. Here, Greg showed me another intricacy of this special place. “There are no nails in the benches,” he casually remarked. Each slat of wood had been cut to interlock and connect with an odd shaped plug. “Do people realize what they are sitting on when they come here for a glass of wine or a cold beer?” I asked already knowing Greg would shake his head “No.”

Greg took me outside to a covered parking platform. “Sleeper cars parked here along two rails.” He continued, “Skilled engineers could hook up a sleeper car without waking the passengers.” In the first renovation, a tennis court and pool fit under the covered area. Now, the roof provides cover for special events like the Annual Scranton Jazz Festival. Greg told me the roof originally had an opening overhead where steam, dirt and cinders from the old steam trains could escape. I could see where the opening had been covered. From here, Greg pointed to the remains of an old munitions plant. Later, he would show me the brick archways in the hotel basement that connected tunnels from the plant to the train station. The tunnels are sealed off now; but during World War II, weapons mover undetected through the passageways. He told me about other underground tunnels beneath the city. Scranton’s trolley company created these tunnels which served as an efficient beltway for transportation of the trolley drivers to their routes.

According to Greg, Scranton was a key logistical city for coal, freight, and train passenger travel. Over 100-years ago, Scranton was “the 20^th largest city in the country.” He reminded me that Scranton became the nation’s first city to successfully electrify the trolley system. And, he surprised me with the notion that in the days of Vaudeville, “Scranton was the proving ground for many acts, the last stop before reaching the big time in New York City.”

More surprising than these tidbits came the answer to the mysterious question: What Did They Find in the Vault of the Historic DL & W Station? Greg told me that all the while when the station remained vacant, the vault had not been tampered with and remained sealed. No one knew the combination. There were no records found to help unlock the vault. The Moser Safe Company had to be hired to crack the safe without damage to the artifact. When it was finally opened, one thing stood inside the vault - a lone lamp, an original from the train station waiting room. No money, no jewels, no historically relevant records, just an original train station lamp was found. It came to be valued as a remnant of the time past. Its design was copied and these replicas now decorate the Radisson lobby. The vault door is anchored open to show the intricate locking mechanism and jewelers’ rotations etched artfully on the inner metal door. My curiosity was at last satisfied thanks to Greg - sales manager, tour guide, and historian.

June 2, 2008

A list describing the faience tiles designed by Clark G. Voorhees and number key, as well as, a publication called “Historical Perspective” are available at the Radisson Front Desk.

The Radisson Lackawanna Station Hotel Scranton is located at 700 Lackawanna Avenue in the center of downtown Scranton, PA and within walking distance of Steamtown.

Making-Up Is Fun!

When I say “Making-up is fun,” I don’t mean with your spouse. I mean going to a Rotary Club meeting in a place other than my home Club in Greensburg, Pennsylvania.

Travelling, as I do fulltime in my Prevost RV bus conversion, forces me to “make-up” wherever I happen to be. My commitment to attend a weekly Rotary meeting remains strong and reinforced by the friendly Rotarians and the bountiful experiences.

Most recently, I did a “make-up” in Scranton, Pennsylvania. The Rotary Club of Scranton meets at the Radisson Lackawanna Station, a 1908 restored railroad station. Though much has changed to turn this site to a full-service luxury hotel, you can still see traces of its previous life. The green tile wall rises floor to ceiling in the banquet room off the hotel lobby. This is the original exterior station wall which faced the train tracks. Ticket windows cut into the tile wall allowed folks traveling by train to buy tickets without entering the main station. Today, the windows are closed and look like wooden shutters placed evenly along the green tile wall. If you look up, you can see metal beams extending perpendicular from the green wall. Historically, the beams supported a roof over the train tracks to protect passengers from rain and snow. In the 1983 conversion from a rundown train station to a hotel, this area became an enclosed banquet room. This marvelous place is where the Rotary Club of Scranton meets each Monday at noon.

I may have overlooked the Radisson Lackawanna Station as a place listed on The National Register of Historic Places had it not been for a “make-up.” I also know that I would not have enjoyed the luxury of dining in many of the member’s only country clubs like the McAllen Country Club or the Canyon Creek Country Club had it not been for Rotary meetings held on these sites.

My own Rotary Club of Greensburg met for many years at the Greensburg Country Club until a fire disrupted its operations. Among members of my Club, it is rumored that the fire also destroyed our Club’s collection of international and national banners. Banners are a Rotary tradition. Visiting Rotarians can present their home Club Banner to the Club when they attend a “make-up” meeting. The banner is a symbol of friendship and fellowship. I’ve collected a number of banners symbolic in their own right to present to my Club President when I return to Greensburg. An ostrich is pictured on an Arizona Club banner because of the community’s traditional ostrich races. A dove appears on one Texas Club banner because years ago its members would leave the Friday noontime meetings to go dove hunting in Mexico instead of returning to work. The waterfalls of Quebec, or “chutes” as they are called in Canada, express the pride of the St. Nicolas Club in their local scenery.

How Clubs display their acquired banners in interesting too. I’ve seen them strung together with fancy chords and hung from hooks around the walls of meeting rooms. Some Clubs have invested in special free-standing displays. The most unique display I’ve seen had the banners sewn together in quilt-like wall hanging with the seams hidden by old-fashioned rick rack trim.

I get an inside look at the community from the programs when I’ve done a “make-up.” I’ve learned about local political issues such as the feelings about the US-Mexican border fence, new community service projects for sexually abused children, entrepreneurial endeavors in the home decorating business, trends to take high costs out of medical care through city clinics, and economic development plans that foster business incubators for new ventures. I’ve been intrigued by how the postal service helps bust drug dealers. And, I’ve been surprised to learn that I can pay $45 to the American Red Cross to learn mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to revive a non-breathing dog or cat. Club Assemblies are lively; I witnessed three as a visiting Rotarian. I particularly enjoyed one Club Assembly where everyone spoke French. I could not follow the fast flow of words but the discussion seemed heated over plans for an upcoming fund raising event. Had I not done a “make-up”, I would have missed hearing the inspiring words of high school students as they delivered speeches giving their interpretation of The Four Way Test.

As a visiting Rotarian, I always find a welcome hand shake from someone who’s originally from an area near my home Club – a physician who left Monroeville to practice near St. Louis, a retired pastor in Livingston, Texas who lived in Greensburg and knows many of my Rotary friends, and a fellow PITT alumni in Canton, New York who attended the University in the ‘60s some 10 years before me. When my daughter Suzie attended the Rotary Club of Fulton as my guest, we joined the celebration for her professor’s surprise 40^th birthday party. I think Suzie’s presence surprised him more than the black “Over the Hill” balloons and tombstone-shaped cookies. I’ve been asked more than once with a laugh, “How’d you get a seat at that table?” when I take a chair at a table of longtime Rotary friends. I just smile and say, “I heard this guy’s is a celebrity.” One time the guy I pointed to was really a local TV star.

There’s no real penalty for missing a weekly meeting unless you’re a member of the Rotary Club of Edinburg. They’ll put you in the dog house! Rotarians who chronically miss the Club’s meetings are seated at a table with a wooden dog house as the centerpiece. It’s a light-hearted reminder to attend meetings or do a “make-up”.

I’m not trying to stay out of “the dog house”, rather I think of a missed meeting in another way. It’s a missed opportunity to connect with like-minded people and enhance a visit to a town whether the trip is for business or pleasure. Making up is a fun way to enjoy a good meal, sometimes sing a Rotary song, learn something new, and expand my circle of friends.