WARM, Yonki, and Me...

WARM? David Yonki? Me? In common, what do we have in common?

For starters, we both grew up listening to, and in awe of, The Mighty 590. Mythical, magical, absurdly beyond the ordinary, WARM held the concrete fascination of generations here in NE PA. To my good fortune, I was a member of one of those generations, as was Mr. Yonki. (Dave and I are also both political-weenie/junkies of the devoted kind, a story for another time, another place.)

Dave has unveiled his latest project, a tribute site devoted to WARM. If you spend way too much time on the net, and most of us do, you know that countless radio stations, AMs long fallen from popularity, have tribute sites. WARM's, in my opinion, is long overdue.

It is now here. Visit, enjoy, and David, let me be among the first to "...wish you well in your future endeavors."

While I have had at least a few unspoken thoughts over the years, really, I do have more than a few things to say about WARM. As David, and a good many others know, my reflections are not all WARM and fuzzy. My perspective comes from both sides of the fence.

Think, "Great place to visit but I wouldn't want to live there..." and you'll get a feel for where I'll wander before too long.

David, I love the site, I will visit often, and thanks to your generosity and graciousness, I will share my thoughts. Thanks!

Every Man Should Have A Hobby...

It must be true. A man needs a hobby. If not true, there wouldn't exist hobby shops, right? Hobby shops equal truth. Obama and McCain need to be talking about hobbies more. Do either have a hobby? I mean, outside of running for president, what do these men do?

Of course, the great American hobby shop has suffered serious changes over the years. Gone for the most are the small Mom&Pop(mostly Pop)shops that catered to the hobbyist who modeled trains, planes, and cars. Although I can with some pride tell you that a branch of my family continues to own and operate the Scranton Hobby Center, an enterprise of longstanding.

I worked there once, stood behind a counter and sold model trains and planes and cars and assorted other hobby type things that are all part and parcel of the hobbyist's life.

Hobbyists collect things, lots of things.

Not only do they collect the object of their affection, model trains for instance, they need to have all the tools, gizmos, dooflathchies, and assorted apparatus that only a respectable model train-weenie would have. Yes, I was one once. Leaving that behind, I morphed into just a plain train-weenie, a lover of the real thing, real trains.

Model rocketry was big when I did hobby sales for a living, although its charm was forever lost on me. You go up, you come down. That's it...if you're lucky. Most guys I knew who gave model rocketry a shot never got off the ground, literally. The few times they did, there was nothing to see. If you do it right, your rocket streaks into the sky so fast you can't see it beyond maybe a brief glimpse.

Since then, I've had my share of hobbies. Seems to me that I always had some distraction in my life, one to take my mind off of life. I say that's a good thing. I say that's what a hobby is all about. If it's productive, all the better.

For a good many years it was fly fishing. Fly fishing was more passion than hobby, more part of my life than a moment or two away from it. Like all else, that passed.

Then it was gardening. With complete abandon I tossed myself into horticulture and botany, arbor-culture and soil amending, germination, cultivation and composting. Same deal, that passed, too.

As a kid, I always admired those who could, are you ready for this, whittle. Yes, I said whittle.

Every time I put knife to stick the finished product look like a stick that someone had been hacking at with a knife. Try as I could and did, whittling wasn't one of those gifts we all possess in some form. I couldn't even make a stick look like a stick.

I physically ached to be able to hand carve a neckerchief slide(actually known as a "woggle") when I was a Boy Scout, like the one on the right. My particular favorite was that of an Indian Chief in full headdress...hand carved, of course. Fat chance. I couldn't get beyond a block of wood that was the right size. If you have a second, try this site devoted to woggles and the apparently lost craft of making them.

So it was that a couple years back I decided to try another take, a different spin, on the wonder of whittling.

It came to one day as I wandered the trails of Frances Slocum State Park. Making my way along a pitched mountain path, the idea of a walking stick seemed like a pretty solid idea.

Not that where I was hiking was dangerous, treacherous. Slocum ain't Mount Katahdin. But a sturdy staff for guidance would be a nice tool to have at one's disposal, should one lose balance like the big, clumsy, not at all surefooted oaf that one is. Whereupon one such oaf would slide down the side of hill full of rocks and twigs, many of which would then become embedded in the flesh, thereby causing some pain.

Pain would be wages enough for being a klutz, never mind that someone should see Mr. Oaf take the tumble. The humiliation would test the best of us. (Remind me to recount the time I did take a lovely header at Lake Scranton. I understand that those who witnessed it - and there were several witnesses - laugh about it to this day.)

Now, I make walking sticks. Find a suitable stick, strip the bark, sand, sand again, do some more detail sanding, clean with a tack cloth, apply first coat of tung oil...then you sand and oil, then sand and oil again. In the end, you may use a paste wax, buff to a lustrous sheen, then take a hike.

The sticks pictured here look nothing like mine, except that basic no-frills model you see third from the left. I've yet to get into fancy handles and knobs. On the outside chance I don't get bored, I may do so before long. Maybe one day soon we'll see you at Knobs 'N Knockers on a Saturday afternoon.

Sticks, the bare starter sticks, are everywhere. Probably around your property, or your neighbors' property. Likely there's a usable one blown down from a tree during a recent storm. If you're lucky, it'll have blown down a year or more ago. The older the stick, the drier the wood, and the drier the better for present purposes.

If your testosterone isn't already bubbling, consider this: You get to use tools, even power tools! Yes, a jig saw for trimming, an orbital sander for rough sanding, and a Dremel tool for the finer and more delicate touches. Why, it's man's world, I tell you!

If that wasn't enough to get your genes all giddy, you even have to do some sanding by hand. Yes, by golly, by hand. If you want a real fine finish on that stick, you'll need to do some hand-sanding.

What I guess has taken place is me finding a way to whittle without being able to whittle.

It's fun, harmless, keeps me out of the saloons(I go to Wegmans, see previous post), and it gives me something useful when done. Oh, yeah, I've fully completed one stick so far, but it is a dandy. I'm quite proud of it, thank you.

Now all I need to do is start walking again...

ID, Please...

Wegmans now sells beer. For your pleasure and convenience beer is now available in smaller amounts, no case lots of suds. Many pizza joints, convenient stores, and diners likewise sell beer, both for on and off premises consumption. Hey, do you realize, and I'll bet most don't, that Boscov's sells beer in its basement restaurant in Wilkes-Barre? If they no longer do, that's a new development.

Wegmans isn't the first supermarket in Pennsylvania to sell beer. I used to buy beer at Madzin's Market on Prospect Ave. in Scranton over twenty years ago(Hello, Joe Madzin!). Digressing, as is my usual process, Madzin's bought all the old Schumacher recipes for bologna, knockwurst, and liverwurst. When Schumacher's sadly shut down, the Madzin family purchased the recipes and took to making and smoking some fine German sausages.

Back to beer.

While not the first, Wegmans, unwittingly or not, has opened the door for every supermarket in Pennsylvania to now successfully apply for and be granted a beer license.

Many are pro, many are con. I have no position. However, if one chain can, why can't another, regardless of size? If a chain can, why not the single-location shopkeeper? You can't put the toothpaste back in the tube. No bell yet rung has been un-rung.

If you've ever the had chance to travel the west, as in Utah, Idaho, etc., you'll find beer for sale in gas stations, gift shops, barber shops, and just about any other place with a cash register and someone to make change.

That Pennsylvania's liquor laws are considered archaic by many is no secret. Calls for the abolishment of our PLCB State Store system have been in the air for decades. My opinion is that fixing something unbroken is generally a fool's pursuit. Why bother?

Interestingly enough, the loudest cries for deregulation, really complete elimination of the state store system, come from the advertising sector. Newspapers, television, radio stations, etc., all want to see it trashed. You can figure that one out with ease; competition means windfall advertising dollars. Fine, we all need to make a buck.

But I want to get beer where and when it suits me. More importantly, far more importantly, I want a really good selection of imports and micros by the six, or even by the single. I don't want to make the plunge into a case unless it's beer I like.

If and when the plunge is made, I have several friends who are in the beer distribution business, and I am always more than happy to spend my money with them. For those who may not know, like out-of-staters, a distributor can't sell you a six-pack, although those I know sure wish they could.

Saturday, I bought beer at Wegmans.

Saturday I got carded.

Two months ago last week I turned 58.

As I stood at the checkout, they carded a guy in front of me, clearly also an easy 50 years old or more. He was getting cranky over the process.

They're carding everyone, right?

Wrong.

My wife bought a six-pack of pale ale a few weeks ago. She didn't get carded. Somehow, she slipped through the cracks. I believe a head could roll for that failure. In a gesture of great magnanimity, I will not disclose the day, time of day, or exact date of the uncarded purchase. Nor will I reveal the gender of the person conducting the transaction.

(The pale ale was Dogfish Head 60 Minute IPA. Good, but not exactly to my taste. Hoppy I like, the excessive sweetness I do not. Other IPAs bring a better balance.)

When Wegmans announced that its W-B Township beer license was hanging on the wall and they were good to go, they also claimed they would be carding everyone, which sounded silly to me. But I suppose their thinking is "Better we embarrass one 73 year old than allow a 31 year old to sneak through with a twelve pack of Coors Light."

Frankly, I don't care one way or the other. The only thing it means to me is that I now have to have my wallet with me whenever we go to Wegmans.

Saturday's sampler was a four-pack(yes, four bottles in a carrier)of Samuel Smith's Oatmeal Stout, brewed in Tadcaster, North Yorkshire, England. I've heard this stout raved about for years on end. Some will say it is a stout that defies description, that it's that good.

I don't think so. While good, well-brewed, incredible head with complex flavors, it finishes way too sweet for my tastes. It is supposed to have a bittersweet finish. For me, too heavy on the sweet, too light on the bitter.

In closing, let me drift back to when I was considering a run for political office. A gentleman who would have been my opponent said to me, "About the worst they're saying out there about you is that you like beer."

Gee, you don't suppose, do you?

The Lines Are More Deeply Drawn...

Today brings news that not only has one county commissioner, Mr. Skrepenak, called for a criminal investigation into the reassessment process, this same commissioner has also now publicly, complete with a PowerPoint presentation for spelling out details, called for a delay in the process.

Not surprisingly, another commissioner has called it a political tactic, while the third commissioner has(at least to my reading of it)implied conditional support of a delay contingent upon abuses and/or inadequacies being proven.

This is getting to "spectator sport" status. And I am happy to say that things are working out almost exactly like I predicted to several friends when the first round of notices went out in the USPS. Of course, one not need be Kreskin to have seen all of this quickly turning cluster-licious.

Also in print this Saturday, the City of Hazleton is on record, via their city council, has having asked that the "all ahead full" become "all engines stop" with the county-wide reassessment.

If that's not enough, one newspaper has editorially all but accused this commissioner asking for the delay of being a bad guy for doing so...

"Bowing to intense public pressure, the first Luzerne County commissioner crumbled Friday..."

Yep, that's what the editorial contends, that an elected official, a public servant, actually had the temerity to listen to the loud voices of his constituents and act accordingly.

I feel almost stupid in saying this, because it's something all of us pretty much learn in elementary school, it doesn't even rise to the level of a civics lesson, but isn't what he did precisely what someone elected to public office is supposed to do, listen?

Skrep listened, then acted.

Elected officials are not supposed to dig in their heels and become immovable on matters directly affecting those who pay the taxes that underwrite the daily operation of the municipality in question.

The majority of people aren't happy.

Admittedly, a few are.

So far I've met two(2)county property owners who are OK with their new proposed taxes. One of the two will be seeing a respectable reduction, meaning that they've been overtaxed for several years. The other will receive but a slight increase due to the fact that their property is relatively new construction and was already heavily taxed, perhaps even excessively.

I'm also hearing that several area attorneys are quietly involved on the side of taxpayers. Just when these lawyers will openly join the initiative is unknown.

Be assured that a reassessment was overdue, and that it's necessary, and that you'll get no complaint from me on that. Also be assured that a reassessment has long been held to be political suicide for those setting one in motion. Defying all human tendencies of fight or flight, personnel working for the Reassessment Office are tremendous, and I mean courteous to a fault. I'll level with you, how they do it under the circumstances is a mystery, but they do.

In all of this, there is one undeniable element, one immutable, one fact cast in concrete, chiseled in granite, set with SuperGlue; thousands of mistakes, a mountain of huge errors, were made, which alone should be the biggest red flag we've seen waved in a long, long time.

Maybe his background prepared him for this day. Skrep seems to see the flag that others do not.

A Couple Two Three Kicks Below The Belt...

It's been awhile. I know.

Every time I sit to blog these days, I get bummed. I start to write, quickly discover that what I'm writing about is depressing, then just stop writing. Bad enough that it brings me down, there's no sense forcing it on others, right?


Sometimes the things that move me to write have me looking for that bus. You know that bus, it's the bus they throw people under, which I consider throwing myself under at times.

First, Boscov's is in trouble. Big trouble. Should I care? Yes, sirs and mams, I do care, care on several different levels.

First of all, I like Boscov's. A lot of the suits in my closet came from Boscov's, because Boscov's once had the best selection of respected brand name men's suits in the area at the absolute best prices. I don't want to get into any fru-fru BS about suits, but Boscov's had tons of suits at tons of savings.

Whenever W-B's decline is discussed you can count on at least one voice saying, "If Boscov's ever closes, they might as well turn out the lights, it's over."

Is it that bad? I don't know. With any luck, we won't find out. However, entering Chapter 11 is not a move dripping with optimism. According to "experts," companies that do so have roughly a 15% chance of survival. Plus, the 15% that do survive are often unrecognizable after all is said and done.

Up north a bit, Boscov's is the main anchor tenant of the Steamtown Mall. Even more so, Boscov's was the driving retail force that got that mall built in the first place. There's a lot at stake here, and about all those who care can do, and I mean the consumer, is to continue to shop Boscov's.

Scranton/W-B/Hazleton is one of the fastest dying metro areas in the country. To that I say, BULLDOOGIE. How about you? Are you tired of the endless parade of lists, the ones on which this area is the greatest place to live in the whole wide world? Then the next list gets issued saying we suck beyond description? You can't have it both ways, you can't be the best and the worst at the same time. Look at some other cities on the list. Cleveland? C'mon, Cleveland may be one of America's older cities, but it is a big, prosperous, and bustling city.

Besides, is there really a Scranton/W-B/Hazleton Metro? Uhhh, I doubt it. Scranton and Wilkes-Barre have never snuggled up to one another, so there really ain't much chance that Scranton and Hazleton are about to start going steady in the very near future.

Reassessment. Not that anyone asked, but here's our deal. That new fair market value on our property was way beyond what it should be. Yeah, I know, us and ten thousand (a modest figure) other property owners. We had a certified appraisal done, by a licensed appraiser of course. Armed with that, and photos of unusable portions of our house, like basement and attic, I went and got myself informally reviewed.

The gentleman doing the reviewing was polite, gracious, and helpful. The entire office staff was nothing but nice, they were all wonderful. I left the Reassessment Office somewhat happy. They'd reduced the fair market value of our property to my satisfaction. OK, fine for us, but what about the literally thousands of others who have gotten no such satisfaction?

One county commissioner is now calling for a criminal investigation. Groups are beginning to form and grow and calling for an end to this mess. One group wants to secede from Luzerne County and become part of Wyoming County. I'm also hearing there is a similar movement afoot along the Luzerne/Columbia County line. Is that possible? Hell if I know, but it sure will be interesting to see how such a movement can swell to the point where it becomes a serious possibility. Look, county lines were once drawn, then redrawn, and oftentimes redrawn again. That might have been well over a hundred years ago, but was some law passed prohibiting it from ever occuring again? I somehow don't think so.

Then I hear the word "impractical" tossed around when it comes to trashing the reassessment and all of its new values. It would be "impractical" to even delay, let alone reject, this mess.

Impractical? Impractical for whom?

Is "impractical" excuse enough to justify taxes on countless properties that have tripled, even quadrupled? Regardless of where this goes, when it goes there, or even if it goes there, there is one inescapable reality; the mistakes that have been made are egregious, and the number of mistakes is staggering.

Lawn Length Legislation. Happy to say that Factoryvillians can now let their grass grow to ten inches before the lawn police come by and haul you and your unused mower to the magistrate. Phewwww, it was a close call there. Initially, borough council wanted to codify an ordinance restricting maximum lawn heights to six inches, but a cooler head prevailed and ten inches is now the rule.

Oh, make sure you watch for noxious weeds, they're on the books, too. Noxious weeds are completely verboten. Get caught with some ragweed out back, and you're in deep compost. I'd bet their PD was just tickled about the prospect of going around measuring the guy up the block's fescue or Kentucky Blue.

I figure if all Factoryville has to worry about is your lawn's height, then Factoryville has to be the nicest town in America, one completely free of the problems that plague every other municipality across the nation.

Not that this ordinance is all about maintaining the aesthetic loveliness of Factoryville alone. No, there is the "scary critter" element involved. Why, by golly, there might be a snake or mouse or even a skunk hiding in that grass. Hiding because it's #1 instinct is to survive. Cut that grass. If they want to survice, let 'em survive somewhere else, not in Factoryville. There are roughly 1,400 humans living there. We have no numbers on other mammals or reptiles.

Have you been to Factoryville? Beautiful little town that it is, it's being saddled with a misleading name has been a thorn in the paw of a good many borough residents over the years, many of whom have worked to change the name. So far, no good, it's still Factoryville. The story holds that many years ago some factory or another was supposed to be built there and bring peace, prosperity, truth, beauty, wisdom, and light...in the haste of anticipation, the town became Factoryville. The factory never came, the name has never left.

Below you'll find the weekly report out of Factoryville as it appeared in a Tunkhannock newspaper, Tunkahnnock being the county seat...

Factoryville News8/10/2008

On Tuesday Evening, 8/5/08, after 11 pm, voices were heard coming from the grade school parking area and the Mathewson Park, not too loud, but heard on College Ave. and Thompson St. The next morning, the Staff at the Grade School and walkers in the park were delighted to have to pick up empty Busch and Miller Lite Beer Cans, an empty bottle of Rum, an empty cigarette pack, an empty chip container other unmentionables. There is a borough curfew, laws against littering, smoking and drinking. Why have the laws if they are not carried out. Many have asked where is the security.

All is quiet along the lawn front. God's in his/her heaven, and thy grasses do not exceedeth the limit. Rest thee well.

Another Returnee...

The Eastern tiger swallowtail(Papilio glaucus)can be tough to miss. It's a pretty big butterfly, and the color does pull your eye to it immediately.

This specimen I spotted this afternoon while walking into the house after work. I have much better photos of the TST from years past, times when the sun was at a better angle, but what makes this worthy is simple; it's the first TST I've seen on our property this season. Yes, I have seen a few, and I mean FEW, elsewhere, but this is the first here.

Three years ago, we had a backyard full of them. Two years ago there were fewer - I thought it to be a fluke. Last year they were sparse. This year, this is the first. And it's almost August.
Home gardeners can easily tell the time of the growing season by the saddening shape of the Coneflower upon which this butterfly sits. Both butterfly and echinacea are showing unmistakable signs of decline, indicating that Summer is indeed sliding into Autumn.

Although I don't hang out a lot on butterfly boards and blogs, there was a need to visit a few over the last several weeks just to see if others have noticed the small number of butterflies.

The sad fact is, yes, in many sections of the NE USA.

This is an explanation from one very serious and published butterfly hobbyist. "Basically, the extreme and unseasonable weather patterns this past winter, spring and summer across all of North America with extreme temperature and moisture swings have been devastating to Lepidoptera, hummingbirds, song birds and even local wild creatures in all of NA"

The end of the world? Nah, of course not, but very sad news if true. If there is some good news, and there appears to be, it's that in many parts of the Mid-Atlantic and NE USA butterflies, hummingbirds, etc., seem to be in abundance.

I said it in another post, I'll say it again; no sense in us trying to save the planet, the planet is going nowhere, we are. Even if it takes thirty-seven million years, the planet will heal itself completely, which will be thirty-seven million years after the planet disposes of its biggest enemy, and that would be us. What else is new...