A Town Named Jim...

It is, by golly, The Switzerland of America. And it's right down the road; under an hour's drive from our place.

I think Mauch Chunk should come from your lips as "Mawk" Chunk, with "Mawk" rhyming with hawk. It is said that Mauch Chunk means Bear Mountain. Ostensibly, it would be Lenni Lenape for Bear Mountain. We came to call the Lenni Lenape Tribe, The Delaware Tribe. We've lost the Delawares, they moved west, all the way to Oklahoma. We made them go. They signed ridiculous treaties and off they went to Oklahoma.

There was Mauch Chunk, there was East Mauch Chunk. Today they are one.

Since East Mauch Chunk and Mauch Chunk consolidated, brought together by a corpse, the world has known this pretty little borough as Jim Thorpe. That in itself is a one-of-a-kind story. The original settlement along a series of riffles in the Lehigh River began life as Coalville, which is about as exciting as Dullsville, especially considering the nature of its business; coal. Not much imagination there. Mining, shipping, and getting wealthy.

Money, coal, canal boats, then railroads...and the hanging of a Molly Maguire by the name of Alexander Campbell. (Here's a thought; how about we get some consensus on the spelling Is it Maguire, or is it McGuire? Pick one, I'll stick to it).

As Campbell was led to the gallows, he slapped his hand upon his cell wall, proclaiming that its print would be there forever as a testament to his innocence. The hand print is still there. There are marvelous stories surrounding the hand print, and a lot of science backing up its existence, and the inability of generations who have tried unsuccessfully to make it go away. It has gone nowhere in over 135 years. I've never seen it. When we're in town, we never visit the old county jail where the hand print is. Oddly, I don't know why. I love ghostly legends, always clinging to the notion that at least one of them will someday be proven true.

Carol and I were in Jim Thorpe this past weekend. We love the town. It has a charm that continues to draw me back time and time again. Charm around every corner, as the saying goes...and there is indeed. We typically park near the old CNJ RR Station, where you can still board an excursion train in season. From there, we wander on up Broadway.

For roughly one long block on Broadway you'll find some really neat shops, a hotel, a couple bars, then the street gives way to old Victorians and small office buildings, most of which have been lovingly restored and are at present lovingly maintained. One of our favorite stops is The Emporium, alternately known as The Emporium of Curious Goods. It is that.

Emporium owner, Barrett Ravenhurst, PhD, is a most fascinating man, and a magician. He also has this really neat cat in his store. His cat, his store, and a great story. See, this cat is ghost. There is no cat in Barrett's store save for the apparition of what appears to be a gray cat, a sizable gray cat. It's been seen over the years by a lot of people, often spotted scurrying around the store.

People see this cat, ask about this cat, want to know this cat's name, often enough they'd like to pet this cat, so asking if it exists seems silly; to more than a few mortals it has to exist, they've seen it. I haven't seen it yet, but hope to one of these days.

Jim Thorpe is a small and quiet town. Please don't let me misrepresent it to you. If a lot of neon, fast food, and big-box stores tickle you, pass this one by and find another town. Although the Sweeneys can spend several hours there without getting even a little bored, there is no guarantee it won't bore you silly within minutes. We really love Jim Thorpe.

(If you go, let me suggest your route of travel bring you down Route 209 via Lehighton. From that approach you can see Jim Thorpe open up before you in that deep mountain cleft worn over millions of years by the always moving waters of the Lehigh River.)

Jim Thorpe the man, of course, is a legend in himself. Long story short; the boroughs, one on each side of the river, bought Mr. Thorpe's body, entombed it, renamed the now united boroughs after the man, and here we are today. Oddly, while The Lenni Lenapes we shoved to Oklahoma gave us the name Mauch Chunk, Oklahoma gave us Jim Thorpe, both man and town.

His family made serious noise about wanting the body back not all that long ago. I have no idea if that was ever resolved with any satisfaction since Thorpers(Thorpsters?) weren't interested in giving anything back to anyone. They'd already given this great athlete(often called the world's greatest ever) a fitting burial and built him a fitting monument complete with numerous plaques. They now keep the lawn around it neatly trimmed, treat his body's resting place with respect, and live their lives in a town named after the man they've surely come to consider their own.

It was a marketing gimmick. A little odd, but odd isn't always bad. It made no one wealthy. I don't think many people come to Jim Thorpe to see the mausoleum. It's widely accepted that Thorpe himself never made footfall in the town that carries his name. He probably never so much as passed through Carbon County. They come because it's simply a great little town.

There are lots of ghost stories drifting around the town, and ample sightings to accompany them, but there seems to be a complete lack of any ghost stories about the man himself, about Jim Thorpe.

If you're a ghost tale lover, you already know that would be a solid indication that Jim's spirit is long gone from this breathtaking gorge of the Lehigh River. It would seem to mean the man is at peace somewhere else, that if his conciousness was ever there, and it may never have been, it's long gone. Somehow, I can believe that.

Now, moving right along with the strangely spiritual, what about reincarnation?

To me, reincarnation is a viable possibility. I am most assuredly not sold in total on the idea, but there is something within the idea that appeals to me, that makes sense to me on an inner level that goes beyond the reasonable and logical. It strikes a chord within my guts, it works on my viscera which so many people trust completely.

I think it entirely possible I lived in Mauch Chunk(and not East Mauch Chunk) in some other life. I think it possible that's what keeps me coming back, that's what makes me so comfortable and peaceful whenever I am there. It might explain why, when I look up a tight alley, or down a small walk between buildings, I think, "Yeah, I know this place."

While I certainly cannot prove reincarnation is real, I doubt anyone can prove it is not. Please, don't quote Old or New Testament; there are several passages in both that would strongly suggest reincarnation is very real to go along with passages treating it as an absurdity.

So, if I did live there, if there was an earlier life, who was I?

Not to be flip, but I haven't the faintest idea, none, not one clue. I don't think I was Asa Packer, or Josiah White, or any other millionaire industrialist who took and never gave in and around Mauch Chunk. Actually, I sure as hell hope I wasn't one of those guys.

So we'll keep going back to Jim Thorpe. Not expecting any answers to past lives, mind you. Just going back because we like it and really enjoy the time spent there. I like an uncomplicated life. Besides, I'd like to see Dr. Ravenhurst's cat.