Happy New Year......Milestones

At the time I'm writing this, 2016 is a little over 7 and a half hours old.  I've been thinking about this new year on and off for about the past 5 years.

2016 marks the 100 anniversary of the birth of my father.   That's really quite something!  I'll ask Kelly Cusey, and Tom and Patrick Moughan, my niece and nephews..... how you might feel in 2049 when you realize that your Dad was born 100 years earlier?

Lea Ann and I celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary in 2015. My grandparents on my mother's side would have noted their 100th wedding anniversary that year.  It's mentally staggering to me that I knew my grandparents and interacted with them 50 years ago.  Our third grade class helped honor them on their 50th wedding anniversary in 1965.  We put on a play/skit in their living room;  I was 10 years old at the time.

On January 16th I'll have been working for Luzerne County for 40 years.  I am the old man in the office.  That's not a bad thing, as my co-workers are wonderful, eager, accomplished and appreciative.  I have it good, and love my work.  My 40 years of service pales in comparison to my Sister's 50 years in the service of God with the Sisters of Christian Charity being celebrated this year.

Ten years ago when I turned 50 I fell into a bit of a funk.  The first couple of weeks after my birthday I know I was a bit depressed.  I guess I wasn't ready to be 50 years old.  My next milestone will be different!

This month I'll mark my 60th birthday, and I'm ready to jump into the next decade of life.  We're planning wholesale changes in lifestyle for this decade.  Lea Ann and I have purchased a home in Florida for our retirement.  We're using the house now as a vacation destinatiion, located very near LA's father in Ocala.

We haven't set an official retirement date, but the countdown clock has started.  I'll start collecting Social Security in two more years, and that should go a long way toward us taking the plunge.

I think it's interesting that many of my friends left Wyoming Valley fairly early in life, and have left their mark in other regions of the country, as I stayed put.

Soon it will be my turn to leave home, but not to make a mark elsewhere.  I hope that I've made my mark here.

And now 2016 is almost 9 hours old.  I'm all set for the next 365 days and 15 hours left in 2016.

Happy New Year!

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.

Lunch hour at the Post Office

Earlier this week I went to the Post Office to mail a package.

I was next in line when the male mail clerk turned to the female mail clerk, and told her he didn't feel good.  He had been waiting on one customer for about ten minutes.  Perhaps he was processing a passport, whatever it was, there was a lot of paperwork in front of him.  Just before I was called to the next window, the male clerk pursed his lips, exhaled, his eyes rolled back, and he fell over backwards to the floor, pushing his chair into a metal rack behind him.  I called 911.  The customer waiting behind me leaped to an access gate, found it locked, then jumped over the gate and started to attend to the fallen clerk.  Turns out, that agile customer was an off duty fireman.

Postal employees started coming out from the back room and huddled around him, as they sat him up, he regained consciousness.  After I told 911 what was happening, where I was, my name and telephone number, I started to give them a blow by blow description of what I was observing.  Yes he was speaking, no he's not standing, and here comes a  postal clerk putting on surgical gloves as if she knows what to do.  It was almost like the radio guy who was trying to describe what was happening in front of him as the Hindenburg came down in Lakehurst, NJ.  

911 told me to tell his caregivers that an ambulance was on the way.  I did, but that was right about the time when the clerk was saying that he didn't want an ambulance.  I told that to the 911 operator.

911 told me that the ambulance was on the way, and he could refuse treatment if he wanted to when the help arrived.  The clerks eyes rolled back in his head again, his mouth agape, he had passed out again.  He looked terrible, very pale.  911 told me that help would be there momentarily.  I had done what I could.  

I went to the next open window, envelope in hand, and said, "first class", to the frazzled female mail clerk.  She replied, "he needs to get checked out!"  "He can't keep passing out like that."  I thought, Huh??  I glanced back, and the fallen clerk was again awake and talking to his caregivers.  She said, "Two dollars and forty one cents......out of ten".  "Yeah", I told her, "have a good rest of your day."  She pursed her lips, exhaled and called, "May I help who's next in line, please?" 

It was then that I heard the wail of an ambulance siren.  I met the ambulance crew at the door, and told them where to go.  I wonder now how he's doing?  With HIPPA laws as they are, I might not ever find out.  (purses lips and exhales)   

The bottom of my post office receipt says;
"Help us to Serve you better", "Tell us about your recent postal experience."  Your opinion counts! 

I think I'll pass on the survey.

One year of Solar Panel electricity - Was it worth it?

Our solar panels are installed, out of view, on the southern exposure on the roof of our house.  They've been quietly busy converting sunshine to electricity all year long.  This happens without any intervention on my part, as it's fully automatic.

So I'll bet that most do not really care about how the first year went, or wonder if it was worth the effort.  Ya know, for the longest time we were led to believe that solar panel technology was costly, inefficient, and only for super left wing tree hugger millionaires.  These solar installs were for people trying to make a statement.  They were trying to save the planet themselves.  It's still that way, right?

Wrong.  What would you think if I told you that in 365 days of operation, We saved 48% on our electric bill.  I valued that savings at $686.37.  (4894 kWh)  In addition, we earned, and sold, four Solar Renewable Energy Certificates (SREC's).  An SREC is earned by producing one Megawatt (1,000 kWh) of electricity.  We earned and sold four.  (I've actually just earned the fifth.)  Power companies buy these certificates to meet their quota of producing power from alternative sources.  The purpose of the issuance and sale of SREC's is to help to defray the cost of the investment by the solar host.  That's us.  So here is the lowdown on the last 12 months.

Selling four SREC's netted $1,164.00.  Subtract the $737.40 we paid for electricity to the utility and this equates to free electricity for the year, plus had $427.00 in our hands.  In addition, we generated $686.37 worth of electricity and end up using it ourselves.  If you add the value of the  electricity produced with the proceeds from SREC sales, the total equates to a 12.78% return on our net investment.  My 'Performance' Money Market account earns one tenth of 1 percent.  (00.1%)

Finally, according to a study done in 2009, the value of a home increases by $20.00 from every one dollar in electricity generated by Solar.  20 X $686 = $13,720.00.  Yes, it was worth it.

I'm still beaming!

Summer Time & How I Kept Cool for 50 years.

The outside temperature is predicted to exceed 90 degrees today, and we are all getting ready for the summer.  The central air-conditioning provides cool comfort amidst even the most horrid humidity drenched days of June, July and August

There was a time when it got hot, we all were outside seeking relief.  No air conditioned stores, malls or movie theaters,  There was no air conditioning in our houses.  We had few places to hide from the heat, most often it was the shade of a tree.

As a youngster growing up in Pittston I was exceptionally lucky to live close to an ice cream shop.  Lots of people knew Grablicks Dairy as a place along Wyoming Avenue in West Pittston where you could get soft Ice Cream at the window in the back of the store, and sundaes, malteds and phosphates at the bar.

In Pittston, in our neighborhood, we had the Grablick's Dairy Plant, ..........and the factory store.  Our Grablick's was not so glitzy or as well known as the W. Pittston parlor.  It was a free standing building with an apartment upstairs, and was placed right in front of the Dairy.  Grablick's ice cream was the best.  (It was all we had, and just about all we knew)  My favorite flavor was White House.  Vanilla ice cream with chopped Maraschino Cherries inside, was named so, honoring George Washington who chopped down a Cherry tree,  Grablick's had many different Ice Cream Sundaes who's names are embedded indelibly in my memory.  Pigs Dinner, Bucket O'Sundae, CMP, Dusty Road, Flaming Pinwheel.  What in the world was a Flaming Pinwheel?  I wonder if anyone every bought and ate one?

As a young boy of 8 or 9, my best friend Michael B. and I would seek relief from the heat by taking a "hike".  Our mothers would prepare lunch for us to take on our journey.  I had a World War II vintage canteen to carry, which held a pint of lukewarm metallic tasting water.  Mom supplied a ham and cheese sandwich, and we were on our way.  Down "Pigs Alley", across Radcliffe Street, across Hunter St. and beyond, up onto the hill.

We hunted fossils in the shale, tried to throw rock across the "cutoff", where slow moving freight trains pulled box cars and coal cars to and fro, only God knew where.

It was at the cutoff that an older boy, Freddy S., tried to jump onto one of the freight cars for a free ride, but slipped under the train instead, losing one of his legs.  We were sternly advised to keep our distance from the tracks, and we did!

We found a natural spring, a small pond of water bubbling up out of the ground.  Older folks told us that there was a reservoir there many years ago, and the spring fed it.  All we saw was this puddle, so it was hard to imagine anything so massive and  wonderful as a reservoir.  In the shade of the well watered trees, we'd rest, and pull out our sandwiches and discuss life as we knew it, on the side of a hill overlooking Pittston.  I know now that I should have filled my canteen there, it was probably the best water available for miles!

I also remember occasional family trips to Gouldsboro State Park.  About 25 miles east of Pittston, and high atop the Pocono Mountains, Gouldsboro was our family's, out of town heat relief location.  There was a medium sized lake with a beach, brown state built outhouse type changing rooms and a snack shack, with picnic tables scattered under tall trees, Gouldsboro had what we needed to cool off.  I don't remember the water being exceptionally cold, but it was wet!  If we needed cold, there was alway an Orange Cream-sickle from the snack shack.

The need to travel great distances for swimming changed in the early 60's.  For about 10 dollar per year, our family joined the Pittston Pool Assoc.  We all got an official patch, and it was sewn into our bathing suits.  The Pittston Pool was about a 20 minute walk from our house, and well worth the effort.  There were two diving boards, a kiddie pool, clean locker rooms and a snack bar.  I learned to swim there.  Since there was no such thing as sun block, so I learned about second degree burns there too.

The Pittston pool is in dis-repair now, and hasn't opened in years.  Ironically I may end up having a role in its resurrection make-over as a spray/skate park.  I haven't seen the inside of Gouldsboro State Park since the mid 1960's.  I vow to visit there this year and buy LA an Orange Cream-sickle.  I'll introduce her to the place where we vacationed when Dad was more than 8 times out.
(Perhaps I'll explain railroad speak on being "8 times out" another day)

The place on the hill and the cut-off have been leveled for a townhouse development.  Streets have been paved and named, but most site are empty, victim of the Great Recession.  The trees are gone, the train tracks buried.  Where once was a grand reservoir, and afterward an oasis for little boys, lies a housing development in distress.  No tree's to shade the houses.  Compressors running full bore, providing comfort amidst even the most horrid humidity drenched days of June, July and August.

Obsolescence - It's us or the machines

We often hear about the unintended some times tragic consequences which result when technology runs amok.  How about when advancing technology leaves you clueless.  That's called the E-Peter principle.

E-Peter Principle:
I really enjoy high quality sound reproduction.  A few years ago I decided that I needed to upgrade my receiver to one which supports Dolby Digital Surround.  I did my homework, and when the receiver I wanted was on sale, I made the purchase.  I'm accustom to wiring components together, but this receiver required me to adjust and interconnect it in ways that had me baffled.  Luckily, my nephew Patrick was to be in town about a week later, and he gladly took  the task.  The entire system was up and running in no time, with little effort on his part.  Thanks for that again, Pat.  My electronics waterloo repeated a few years later when it came time to set up my home computer wireless network.  I felt out of the loop and a bit helpless.

Have you ever felt that way, charged with a task which overwhelms as I have described?

I'm sure most of you have at one time or another played basketball.  H.O.R.S.E. perhaps?  How would you feel if you were suddenly thrust into a one on one basketball game with Michael Jordon?  Most everyone has played a round or two of miniature golf?  You may have even tried your hand at the driving range.  What if you had to play a skins game against Tiger Woods? (Pun intended)  That's the feeling.

A co-worker of mine told me one morning that he had to get a new microwave because the light bulb burned out in his old one.  I told him that he should just use the oven with out, what's the big deal?  He replied, "I can't, aren't you listening?" "The bulb burned out,........ how is it going to cook the food!"  (true story)

I sometimes try to unlock my front door, with the key fob from my Volkswagen.  It doesn't work!


Amok Time:  What happens when we try to use technology, but the result is contrary to what we thought it would do.  I recently watched a man frantically waving his wet hand in front of a paper towel dispenser.  I had to point out to him that "dude, you need to turn the handle'.

There are plenty on instances lately as some automobiles take on a life of their own, accelerating down highways and driveways at breakneck speeds.  Another recently reported auto flaw involves the car suddenly turning left. Wow!  Fortunately these events are infrequent.

Last week, as I sat in the drivers seat of my Volkswagen, the cell phone hooked to my belt dialed Sister M. E.  Within 15 minutes I received a call from her making sure that everything was OK.

Follow the timeline of sound recording and playback in your lifetime.  78 rpm records, 33 rpm stereo lp's, reel to reel tape, 8 tracks, cassettes, compact disc's then mp3's.  Each new technology exceeding all aspects of the previous.

So what do we do?  Will this get worse?  You betcha!  Think of the innovations in your lifetime.  Remember being an early adopter of technology?  In a few short years you watched its transition to obsolescence.

Will man built the HAL 9000 in our lifetime?

When you comment on this post, tell a story on how technology passed you or someone else by.

Happy Easter!