Brother can you spare a dime?

My mother used to tell me that during the depression, 'bums' would frequent their home asking for food.  Those men were never turned away from her house on Carroll St.  She told me that the house must have been marked, because they all knew that there would be a sandwich for them.  My guess is that the term "Bum", had a different meaning in the 1930's than it does now.

Her family was lucky, her dad (my grampy) had a good business, there was money in plumbing.  He often worked for people who could only promise to pay him, and to their credit they did, even if it was a dime at a time.

A song written by Yip Harburg and Jay Gorney was a bit of an anthem during the Great Depression was called, "Brother can you spare a dime."  You may be surprised as I was that the lyric has some relevance to the economic atmosphere today.

They used to tell me I was building a dream, and so I followed the mob,

When there was earth to plow, or guns to bear, I was always there right on the job.

They used to tell me I was building a dream, with peace and glory ahead,

Why should I be standing in line, just waiting for bread?

Once I built a railroad, I made it run, made it race against time.

Once I built a railroad; now it's done. Brother, can you spare a dime?

Once I built a tower, up to the sun, brick, and rivet, and lime;

Once I built a tower, now it's done. Brother, can you spare a dime?

A dime.  Today it's likely you'd see a dime on the ground, and maybe walk by it, but back then 10 cents was enough for a gallon of gasoline, or a half pound steak.  Not enough to feel your family, but maybe enough to get you through the day.

Which brings me to last week.  I was walking along a street adjoining Public Square in Wilkes Barre, and was stopped by a man in his 30's.  He told me that he decided to talk to me because I was a formidably sized man who wouldn't be afraid of him, and that when he approaches some people, they are afraid of him.  "They think I'm going to jump in their car after them or something."  He spoke to me, I guess, because I made him uncomfortable.  He certainly didn't know that I'm am teddy bear.  Or maybe he did.  

He explained that he lost most of his possessions in the September flooding.  He was a landscaper by trade, and owned his own business, but lost a lot of his equipment.  Continuing, he explained that he was insured, but his insurer was dragging his feet.  He has three kids, no job, no unemployment, and no work, cause he doesn't have the tools.  Proudly he explains, "I'm not a bum.", "I just need to feed my kids", and like my grandfather used to tell me, "Oatmeal is better than no meal."  "Man, ....can you help me feed my kids.?"

With my mind whirling, and remembering how MY grandfather would have reacted to the same plea 80 years ago, I dug into my pocket and gave him a ten.  I explained that I knew that it wasn't his answer, but perhaps it's help some.  I told him that when he got his feet underneath him again, and had an extra ten, to pass it along to the next guy who was down on his luck.

Maybe I was played, ..... but times ARE bad.  If you were approached by someone down on there luck, what would you do?  Any time is a good time to help someone that's hungry.  I made a direct donation, but I'm going to follow up with a soup kitchen or food pantry donation.

The United States Post Office is collection food for the hungry this Saturday.  (May 12, 2012)
Put out a bag of non-perishable food, if you can.  It feels good.  It help feed some kids.

Comfort in change.

I haven't made a blog entry in quite a while.  When I started this a few years ago, I was sure that I'd stay with it and publish often  I had so much to say.  It seems to me now, that even though I've had a lot of things on my mind, I lacked a tipping point item.  I needed something with which I could tie all of my thoughts together into a theme, of sorts.  Then I would be able to write it all down in this format and present it all like a complete thought, all wrapped up in a pretty little bow.  That unifying tipping point happened only a few days ago.  I hope you enjoy reading this entry.


Change.  It's inevitable that things change.  In Florida they say that "If you don't like the weather, wait a minute!" I think my Mother said it best, "Nothing lasts forever, not the good, nor the bad." Those words could bring comfort to anyone caught in the transition from the known to the unknown, from the old to the new, from the expected to the unexpected.  There is no finality to change, it is intertwined with life, and life changes every day. There is comfort in the status quo, there is comfort in familiarity, there is no comfort in Change.


Just in the last few months my employer has changed the entire way it governs itself.  There are new policies, new departments, a new hierarchy, new challenges, new forms, new procedures...etc.  The department I have been in for 36 years has been cut in two.  Employees have been laid-off, and the work load has been expanded.  The feelings of chaos is tempered by the familiarity of working with people you know, and understanding that they too are dealing with the unfamiliar and the unknown.


I am old enough to remember visiting stores on Main Street Pittston in the years before shopping malls. Borr and Casey was our pharmacy.  You could have lunch at the Sweetland Restaurant, or the Majestic, purchase clothing from Corcoran and O'Brien, and for the Holidays, Santa Claus was at Woolworths.  I saw the "Sound of Music" and "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" in the American Theater. That theater hosted vaudeville only 50 years earlier. After years of prosperity, that all changed with urban sprawl and shopping malls. Those malls, corporate pharmacies, fast food outlets, big box retailers and multiplex theaters all but obliterated our downtown businesses.  When people moved away from city hubs, businesses and services moved with them. 

New and exciting businesses are now opening in downtown Pittston, and with the presence of 'Boden' we can include an international business.  Yes, I wrote 'international business' and 'Pittston' in the same sentence, twice. New tree's, curbs, sidewalks, crosswalks, signage and lighting have increased foot traffic and are bringing the city back to life. Pittston City is becoming the place to be, again.  Older buildings are being restored, spruced up and re-purposed. The design of the marquis on the old American Theater was the template for the new marquis on the front of "The Open Space". Sometimes the more things change, the more they remain the same.    So even change, changes.

The Scranton Diocese has been changing  The need to consolidate assets was great.  Pittston City alone had seven active churches, mostly built by immigrants to provide for the diverse cultures and the native languages of its members.  Local traditions remain, but the need for individual ethnicity churches has waned.  Over the course of the last four years or so, many were closed.  I've seen three church buildings demolished in that past few years. St. John the Baptist on William Street, Pittston, St. Mark's, Inkerman and Sacred Heart Church in Plains. I thought, ...how sad, but..... "nothing lasts forever, neither the good, nor the bad."


Then, St. Mary of the Assumption Church fell to the wrecking ball last Thursday.  This wasn't sad, it was devastating! Our parishioners toiled for 149 years.  Generations!  Baptisms, Confirmations, Weddings and Funerals.  Singing in the convent garage until 4am after working the annual festival from noon.  Halloween Parties, Bingo's, Smokers, pony rides on Sand Street.  All for nothing?  There is no comfort in change.


However, all of those memories?  We get to keep those!  They won't change, although they may be embellished and exaggerated over time. but consider what might have been. You know, there is something to be said for in the finality of destroying the building.  Hear me out.  Too many other Churches are still standing, waiting their turn. Some to be sold, re-purposed as theaters, restaurants and businesses.  I couldn't imagine the St. Mary's building with a Marquis on it.  Or perhaps as a restaurant serving dinner for thirteen at a table where the main altar sat, or restrooms in place of the confessionals.  We don't have to endure the contamination or our memories by the future.


I went to St. Mary's on Saturday, parked my car and looked at the debris field.  There near the curb, next to where Mr. Bilbow gave bell-rope rides, I saw a small piece wood siding painted brown.  It was about 8 inches long and 3 1/2 inches wide.  I pick up that piece of wood and threw it in my car.  Perhaps I'll try and make a cross from it.  The church building is gone, but not MY piece, and I get to keep my memories as well.


I've become a sentimental old man. 


Sometimes you can find comfort in change.