New Year's Eve Memories

This was taken from my diary of last year. The photograph to the right is of one of Pottsville's wagering parlors.








I left the parking lot at the Pottsville Hospital at about 1:45 A.M. (still enough time to get one last Yuengling lager down at Sarge’s New Year’s Eve party).
It was a busy evening for me, first dinner and drinking at Sarge's New Year's Eve bash, then a dash over to Pottsville Hospital Parking lot after the stroke of midnight. Umbrella in hand, I waited for the announcement of the 2007 new year baby. I had placed my traditional $100 wager on the birth being out of wedlock the day before at one of Pottsville's betting parlors. I stood there in the parking lot, with my ticket clenched firmly in my fist, waiting for the news. I was not alone, there were hundreds of others with me, along with the WNEP news truck and various newspaper cub reporters.

I continued to look up at the rooftop of the hospital to see if I saw any smoke. Tradition has it the when the new year baby has been delivered, the announcement to the world is made by burning old Pottsville Republican newspapers in a special oven. The oven is actually the oven from Charlie's Pizzeria on loan to the hospital for that one special night. The smoke from those papers escapes through a small chimney visible from the parking lot. Usually one can spot the fumata nera or black smoke, which signifies that an out-of-wedlock baby was born – a bastardo. If I see black smoke, then that means pay-off time for me!



Will it be bianca or nera?????

This night I was not so lucky, I dropped my ticket in disappointment as fumata bianca rose up from the chimney. Fumata bianca....the dreaded white smoke. Yes, white smoke came up the chimney, the first time in at least one decade. The new year baby was born to a married couple! Not only were the parents married, they were married to one another! The couple consisted of a male and a female. One of each! Both adults and not related to one another!



Traditionally, a hospital dignitary will then step onto the platform erected in front of the hospital, holding the newborn up in the air, proclaim the name of the infant (after getting HPPA releases signed of course). The crowds in town go wild, throwing hats up, hugging and kissing as if World War II was just ending while the proud father does a victory lap around the lot.

The baby's name is generally something difficult to pronounce or spell. I was hoping the name would be Flava Flave. Not very original; it is the name of my favorite MTV personality. No, this year, the child would have the name Michael, the name of my favorite Archangel, my favorite basketball player, and my favorite Corleone family member. A lot of wagering goes into name selection as well and the pay-off can be astonomical. This year I was going home empty-handed. No Kahrystall, no Jewlle, no Ayden, Kayden, Jayden or Mayden. No Chrystee, no Thembessa, no Nyklas, no Braden, Zayden, Graden or Rayden. Just plain ol' Michael.





I quickly made my way back down to Sarge’s for that one last call for alcohol, listening to the bells ring from the Mister Softee truck now racing down Centre Street proclaiming the good news that the County's New Year Baby has arrived.
Everyone can sleep good tonight.

photo of bib is one of the numerous gifts bestowed up the winning baby every New Year Day.

New Year Baby Contest

Anticipation mounts for the selection of the 2008 New Year Baby. Some have compared the excitement surrounding the announcement of this year’s prized arrival to that surrounding the announcement of a new dalai lama in Tibet. I beg to differ, as the selection in Tibet of the successor child is a long process, sometimes taking years; the selection of the New Year baby in Schuylkill County, however, occurs rather quickly. Some say this is because the mother has to get back to the middle school on January 2nd, but that is not true. That was an ugly urban legend. It is similar to that urban legend that the fly on the trousers of the Henry Clay statue is down and that is why the statue was placed so high off the ground. Neither of those stories are true. Don't bother staring at the statue as you drive down Centre Street.

The only criteria governing the New Year baby contest is that the winning baby must be born immediately after the stroke of the New Year in the Pottsville Hospital before any other baby is born. Unlike the Spelling Bee Contest, which was popular when I was in the middle school, this baby contest is based solely on gestational timing, period. There is no practice or preparation involved whatsoever. Coincidentally, the word that sank my spelling bee chances years ago was the word, gestational.

If anyone would take the time to read the Official Guide to The Schuylkill County’s New Year Baby Contest, then there would be no more arguments, as the contest is open to mothers of all ages. It has never been restricted to those in the middle school despite what you may hear in the Giant Supermarket, Sheetz, the Roller Roost and other public meeting places. In fact when you think about it, older contestants have an advantage over the younger contestants who are under state driving restrictions. The state now prohibits persons under the age of eighteen from driving after eleven p.m.. Therefore, the younger mothers-to-be, even if they have learner permits, must get rides with older boyfriends, hook-ups or other adults willing to give up the hoop-la of New Year's Eve, drive over to the hospital and sit in a waiting room watching an aged Dick Clark on television with total strangers. What a way to spoil what should be a very fun evening. Not many volunteers for that task I may add.

In any event, all downtown Pottsville sport and wagering parlors will remain open until the wee hours of December 31st for those wishing to participate in the yearly tradition of betting on the outcome.

Having the New Year baby born to a couple married to one another will again pay off handsomely for those daring to take the risk.

what I got for christmas

I got the game I wanted!

Courtesy of Dewalt from the Green Screen. All credit goes there.

Christmas games and toys

This year I was reviewing Amazon’s list of hot toys and games to see what I could get for the little ones in the trout family. By the way I am not referring to the Amazon website; I am referring to a lady friend of mine, the former captain of Shenandoah’s Polish-American Roller Derby Team. The nickname “Amazon” stuck to her. Reviewing toys and games is just another one of her past times. I will give you my perspective on Amazon’s review. She has some hits and misses in my opinion.
For starters by all means stay away from the Tickle Me Mohammed doll. Amazon is completely off base with this one. T.M.M. is the riskier version of the old-fashioned Bert doll; guaranteed to get you kicked out of the Sudan as well as local Unity Day festivities. While Amazon said it is this year’s version of the hot-selling Barbie Burka and Jihad Joe dolls, I say "no way Jose." Don't buy one; and keep away from her other recommendation - that new ADHD doll that makes Chatty Cathy seem like a shy wallflower. You know, it doesn't even come with play Ritalin tablets; you need to purchase a doctor's kit separately to get those. I say if your looking for a toy doll, you can't go wrong with the Wiggans Patch dolls.
For more regional items Amazon recommends the Pottsopoly board game. It is based on Monopoly, but with local places replacing those in Atlantic City. For instance, Boardwalk, Baltic Avenue and Trump Towers are replaced with Centre Street, John O’Hara Boulevard and Joulwan Park. But what makes this game fascinating is that the cards are more realistic. Yes, if you land on “Chance” or “Community Chest” a player still takes the top card from the deck and follows the instructions. These are examples of the cards:
“Your house was recently painted a bright Kelly green in violation of the city paint regulations. Go directly to Jail.”
“Congratulations! You are the winner of the New Year Baby Contest, Collect $50.”
“ACCESS won’t cover your tongue piercing, pay $250.”
“You’re latest hook-up went into a rage over the Maroons not getting the NFL title back, go directly to the Domestic Violence Shelter, Do Not Pass Go”
By far this was my favorite of Amazon's recommendations.
The McAdoo Superfund Mystery Suds is supposed to be used in a bathtub. It’s like an updated Mr. Bubbles, an effervescent bath product which makes suds on top of the water. But who gets in a bathtub anymore? Maybe if you are going to the Poconos with someone special and have a room reserved with one of those special bathtubs. Otherwise I would pass on that gift.
If you have a budding chemist in the family Amazon recommends “My Little Meth Lab Game” geared for pre-schoolers. Each player races around the board which is set up to look like an authentic Mahanoy City meth lab. The object of the game is to successfully get enough of the ingredients necessary to score real big before the vermin-infested lab blows up. I liked this game more than the Game of Life. I am certainly going to go to Sauers Toy Store in Yorkville and put that one in my shopping cart.
Although Amazon recommended the 1925 Electric Maroons’ Football, I will pass as the game for safety reasons; it is only up to 1925 electric code standards to make it more realistic. I have more fun sticking a fork into a toaster. Also, even if you are the Maroons team and score more points, according to the rules in this game you still don't win.

Lastly, Amazon predicts that toddlers will love the durable plastic Cressona Truck Playset that comes with three different toy trucks, all carrying loads of play hazardous materials, mainly real authentic Chinese lead. With this set you get a life-like miniature replica of the Cressona railroad bridge. Amazon told me that when the trucks get lodged in the tunnel children learn the virtue of patience. By the way, the set also comes with a smaller toy tow truck and brightly colored warning signs.

Courthouse Canteen

“While getting my dog license this year, I finally realized why the Schuylkill County Courthouse has always had a reputation for fine cookery. Yes, I happened to have lunch in “The Canteen,” high upon Courthouse Hill. I started out with a cup of the highly recommended coffee while I studied the menu. The java was so strong that it made me shake as if I was Michael Jackson on his wedding night.
I have dined in the Courthouse for decades. In the early ‘60s, I remember dining in the café located on the first floor. I was there for my first divorce. I remember its name was “Mr. Bill’s Bistro.” Although it was primarily a breakfast nook, Mr. Bill would serve the finest Oscar Meyer cold cuts on Sunbeam white bread along with a hot cup of canned soup. What more could I say about Bill’s soup? Campbell’s Tomato never tasted better. And the presentation that Mr. Bill had for his consommé was exquisite – his legendary saltine crackers on the side. In fact, Mr. Bill was rumored to be the inspiration for the Soup Nazi on the TV show, Seinfeld. His loud and repetitive, “Next!” was certainly copied by the NBC scriptwriters without Bill ever getting any acknowledgement or royalties. My mouth begins to water when I think of his desert bar. It was filled with a various array of mouth watering Tastycakes. For entertainment, a radio would fade in and out, crackling with the finest in AM broadcasting. Generally you could catch some of the Phillies’ games. Then there was the weight machine that also gave your fortune – a perfect combination. Your weight, together with a fortune that was good for the rest of the day - all for one nickel! That is only 21/2 cents for each! It was not unusual to see a naïve juror take off shoes and undress prior to getting on the scale.
Unfortunately, Mr. Bill was put out of business after one elderly woman spilled some hot soup on her lap. The litigation lasted several years and eventually the sheriff had to sell everything to pay off the judgment.
In the 1970s, the Commissioners attempted to operate an “all you can eat” seafood buffet. Besides the usual fare of salmon, eel and clam chowder, the finest catch from Sweet Arrow Lake would be served daily. Nevertheless the place shut down after several months due to poor refrigeration. The dining facility then changed management more often that Michael Jackson changed his looks..
Luckily, the voters several years ago approved a $10 million bond issue and the Commissioners invested in a complete overhaul of the Courthouse dining facility. The wise outlay paid off with the grand opening of “The Canteen.” It is strictly American Wild West at it best. Think of the Hoop-de-do Revue at DisneyWorld, but on a smaller scale. Where else could you find work-release inmates singing the latest in country music while you feast? Be prepared for slapstick, corny jokes and lots of singing and dancing. But of course, the food is the center of attraction. There is a superb “Coroner’s delight buffet,” featuring an array of courthouse bologna. I stick to the split pea f.a. soup with a lean double cheese Horn Burger. A wide assortment of ice cream is also available. Enjoy a double dip of Prothonocherry or fiscal crunch while enjoying the breathtaking view of the city. If you think the restaurant revolves, you are wrong; that is the Turkish coffee working its magic once again.
How are the lavatories, you ask? Quite clean and cosmopolitan. One will find find politicians, criminals and paternity test takers, inside washing up before and after dining. No longer do you find the old, pull-down towel machine with more handprints preserved than found in Central Booking. Now a powerful hand dryer has been installed, strong enough to knock a hairpiece off an unsuspecting courthouse employee. And for you lavatory slow pokes, you can easily find a copy of the Police Gazette or the county budget to pass the time.
Lastly, The Canteen’s smoking lounge is unbelievable. It is suave and sophisticated. It is paradise found. Remember that most people involved in politics or government smoke. It is a prerequisite. Some say it has something to do with bad nerves or guilt. I just don’t know. What I do know is that Pottsville’s largest cloud of fumes since the East Penn busses crawled up Market Street now hovers in “The Canteen.” Old Gold, Viceroy, Tareyton, Raleigh, Muriel, Tiparillo, and Chesterfield – all blend together to give the lounge a special glow.
Yes I have over fifty years of fond Courthouse dining memories. I am glad to have shared a few of them with you.

Pottsville Crimson Tide

Growing up in Pottsville in the fifties was a great time; children wore Davy Crockett hats and played cowboy and Indians. The next decade was very turbulent. For those of you mathematically challenged I am referring to the sixties, a decade that brought upheaval - with war, the struggle for civil rights and the assassination of the beloved President.
You may be thinking I am referring to the 1950s, but I am not. I am talking about the 1850’s, for that is the decade that Pottsville High School opened for business.
There are so many unanswered questions about those early days. The most perplexing question, of course, is “why does Pottsville High School an oceanic nickname? Why “The Tide?” Take a walk around the city and you are hard-pressed to find any sand, shells, or hermit crabs even in Pottsville’s “fish-bach” section. Secondly, look around; Pottsville is like Rome – a hilly place; it’s not Miami or even nearby Clamtown.
Don’t you often lay awake at night like I do, tossing and turning, wondering “Why ‘the Tide’ and not ‘the Mountaineers’?” When it was confirmed that the school wasn’t promoting Proctor and Gamble’s household product, I assumed the name must have some connection with the Schuylkill River, but I needed to know for sure. I needed to sleep soundly once again. I would travel to the school and find out.

Not surprisingly, none of the original faculty members were still teaching, so I relied on the old school newspapers, school board minutes, and bathroom graffiti to find out more about the selection of the quaint aquatic name. Remember, in 1853 the school was not located high on 16th Street, it was the downtown somewhere; but even down there the water level did not warrant flood insurance. Why the name “Tide?”
Could the Schuylkill River have a tide? I definitely had a scientific background as I own the “Back to the Future” DVD trilogy. I also had won a ribbon at the school science fair with my entry, "Sweet and Sour: How Can Pork be simultaneously both?” But I did not trust myself and I sought out expert advice. I went to Mount Carbon’s Adelphia Seafood to further my research. It is Schuylkill County’s version of an edible aquarium. I took a number and waited for service. When it was my turn, I said, “I’ll have pickled herring and can you tell me if rivers have tides?” I was dumbfounded by the candid response. “Yes indeed! Rivers do have tides. That includes our own Schuylkill River. Not only do rivers have tides, even the earth and the air around us have tides. Fishermen depend on the tides for their livelihood. Moonlight also affects the size of their catch. But I’m sorry we are sold out of pickled herring.”
I was closer to the answer to my question. It had nothing to do with oceans. Rather; the school name came from the full moon, which affects oceans, the Schuylkill River, Ivy Side pool, the even the Centre Street fountain. Indeed, that is why Nativity H.S. calls its team, “The Green Wave.” Amazingly, Pottsville’s two schools, high atop opposite mountains, are nautically named.
I did further research at the Eagles Club and discovered that 80% of the human body is composed of either water or beer depending on what time of day it is, and whether the beer is lager or light. I stared at the bottle in front of me and began to ponder the gravitational force of the moon and its influence on the water within the human body.
I said to the bartender “So we all have tides within ourselves and are all affected by the moon.” I now felt as if I had solved the Pottsville Republican Sodoku puzzle. I had discovered why Pottsville is “the tide.”
“Each one of us has our own high tides and low tides! Just like the football team. Yes, the Tide was a name given by the original Pottsville school board members, who were probably all druids, in respect for the gravitational pull found within everyone of us.”
At that moment the Eagles barkeep politely asked me to leave. I now had to search for pickled herring.

What I am thankful for...

THANKSGIVING 2007

It is so easy to take things for granted and forget to count one’s blessings.

Yes, I know that we are all grateful that there is only one year left of the Bush Administration. But I am not referring to that.
Yes, many of us are grateful for having the love of a family, grateful for the love of friends, and for a few of us, grateful for the love available south on Route 61 at a very reasonable and affordable price. But I am not referring to that either.
Yes, we are grateful for having a warm house, good health, and good or marginally good food this Thanksgiving. But I am not even referring to that.
What I am referring to are the little things that we subconsciously cherish, thoughts of pilgrims' pride, thanksgivings past and present, which we fail to express. Feelings that we keep within ourselves.

These are a few of the things that I am thankful for this Thanksgiving:

*I am thankful that the pilgrims selected turkey rather than raccoon for the first Thanksgiving dinner.

*I am thankful that we are now not subjected to people bragging about Notre Dame Football.

*I am thankful that during the last debate Hillary Clinton was able to definitely answer the question, “do you prefer white meat or dark meat?”

*I am thankful that my daughter did not enter the New Year Baby contest this year

*I am thankful that while gas prices have skyrocketed, canned turkey gravy at all three Pottsville Dollar stores still remains a bargain

*I am thankful that all male turkeys are referred to as Tom Turkeys and not Dick Turkeys or Harry Turkeys.

*I am thankful that pilgrims did not wear either spandex clothing or low-rise baggy pants.

*I am thankful for finally being told that Squanto was not the sister of the Marx Brothers.

*I am thankful that the Pilgrims decided to host the Thanksgiving dinner rather than be guests at the Indian Casino, idling their time in front of progressive slot machines.

*I am thankful that Mary Todd Lincoln proclaimed the day after Thanksgiving to be designated as “Black Friday,” a day of national shopping.

Happy Thanksgiving

Pottsville Palette Police

What? Am I reading the newspaper correctly? A few people squawked about loud colors being used within the city limits. Long known for its breathtaking swatch of grays and neutrals, Pottsville now wants to protect this image. It wants to prevent the city from being infiltrated by garish pigmentations. Does it refer only to those new colors such as soylent green, you don't look bluish, your just plain yellow, and jaundice? Will it mean that Nativity will have to change its school colors from green & gold to mauve and tan? You know that there are some bright colors that are popular with Hispanics and that could lead to problems with the city. I suggest that Kelly green be banned along with any of the tropical colors just to play it safe. We don't want to be accused of color profiling.

A few years ago the city began mandating that sidewalks be made of concrete, brick or stone. That upset some people who wanted to either make their sidewalks out of beer caps, gravel. crushed iced tea cartons or asphalt. I sided with the city as sidewalks should have some uniformity as they are a public thoroughfare over private property. I just think that roads should be roads and sidewalks should be sidewalks.
Also, while I respect the opinion that we should be proud of our coal heritage, I disagreed with those who want sidewalks to resemble anthracite mine paths. Even a well known restaurant downtown painted over its asphalt sidewalk with a color resembling pizza dough when asked politely by city officials. That is what I call cooperation and Pottsville Pride. Now at least it no longer can be confused with the street when I park my SUV to run in a get my pepperoni pie.

The city is now taking things further and suggesting a Pottsville Palette Police in order to regulate colors. Does this mean that our code enforcement officers will be sent away to art classes to be certified in the variety and uses of hues, tones, tints and shades? Don’t be surprised to see your code enforcement officer wearing a black beret soon. God bless them. I hated art class, except the one day the nude models showed up.
Many years ago the city decided that the statues on Garfield Square should be painted. No one even complained; but sure enough, tax dollars were being spent painting the statues. It was so long ago I can’t remember what the soldiers on the square were being painted to resemble. But with so much paint on their faces, I doubt that the soldier would have been allowed to enlist in the military, even with a “don’t ask, don’t tell policy” in effect. Luckily enough people rose up to protest and protect our heritage. The city backed down before they could get their paint brushes on old Henry Clay up on his pedestal.

With so many buildings in need of repair the city should be grateful that any color paint is being used. However, if the city wants to start regulating colors on buildings, then maybe they could start with that mysterious building on Laurel Boulevard just west of the court house. I have a picture up for you to look at. The building is not painted yet. Probably the owner is waiting for a decision from the code enforcement office.

It would be a great place to put in practice what one learns in art class.

Looking at the building one’s eyes are drawn to the shiny blue plastic roof. The cool, calming effect of this blue roof soothes me as I drive up Laurel Boulevard. This blue, plastic rooftop conveys a sense of confidence; the blue of the plastic rooftop symbolizes the sky, the ocean, sleep and twilight. The blue of the plastic rooftop also conveys a deep religious message to me, as blue is the color of the Virgin Mary. Yes, this blue, plastic roof was given apparent code enforcement office approval. Yes, there is something comforting about that little, humble building on Laurel Boulevard with its blue plastic roof. But it needs to be completed with a coat of fresh paint.

The daunting task for our newly created Palette Police is to coordinate the blue rooftop with a color on the outer unpainted outer walls.

While I never attended Penn State, I would suggest a flat white.

The other Thompson Building Plans

The Pottsville Republican broke the story recently of a plan to renovate the downtown landmark Thompson building into college apartments. While many resent the fact that the city is attempting to attract middle-class young people into our city, all plans deserve to be studied carefully. My secret source (actually a blabbermouth from the Eagles bar) revealed to me the "other plans" under consideration for this architectural wonder named after the late gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson . I will share them with you right now:

1. Thompson Parking Lot. With the successful transformation of the YMCA into a barren parking lot, many think a new lot at the southwest corner of Centre and Market Streets is the ideal next step to alleviate the critical lack of parking for Roma pizza devotees. The city health department recently cited alarming statistics involving the direct correlation between walking and pizza consumption. “It appears that pizza lovers do not like to walk. It is plain and simple, as well as pepperoni and simple, and extra cheese and simple,” the Pottsville Surgeon General announced. He continued his warning that “The city has a moral obligation to alleviate the suffering caused by the lack of parking near every pizzeria within the city limits. This lack of adequate parking forces people to walk several steps in order to pick up their pies. This is intolerable to a people who have lost the NFL championship in 1925 and have suffered ever since.”

Proponents of this plan believe that if the Thompson building was razed for additional parking, the implosion would attract dozens to the downtown to watch. Furthermore it is believed that Roma would seriously consider painting another sidewalk on the perimeter of the new asphalt parking lot, mimicking the appearance of a real sidewalk and placating those whining citizens who think that the downtown should have sidewalks for pedestrians.

2. The Thompson Prison. With the rise of more activities becoming illegal, there is a pressing need for additional prison cells. The transformation of the Thompson building to the Thompson Prison makes good economic sense. The downtown would have a “captured audience” (no pun intended) to build upon. One main hurdle to overcome is the lack of exercise facilities for the prisoners, but it was determined that the inmates could easily use the nearby Green YMCA parking lot as a prison yard for workouts and exercise. Merchants were betting on the prisoners being allowed “good time” passes every Friday to coincide with their new marketing campaign aimed at criminals. However the merchants were warned by the police that illegal betting has never been tolerated within the city limits. Ironically they could end up being the first residents at the new state of the art Thompson High Rise Prison. Opponents argue that prisoners should not be coddled. Those in favor, however, state that while every cell would contain its own mini-bar and plasma tv, and even though a rooftop tennis court and swimming pool will added, these are necessary to attract a higher caliber of prisoner; absolutely no coddling will be permitted on the premises. If this plan takes off, then Pottsville could eventually rival Allenwood as the choice location for the discriminating, sophisticated convict.

Incidentally, the top floor of the Thompson Prison is an ideal location for conjugal visits. I should know as Mammy and I are members of the legendary Thompson Building Mile High Club :).

3. Thompson Homeless Shelter. The cold-hearted city zoning board recently nixed the idea of transforming Mahantongo Street into a Homeless District, an idea that most Pottsvillians enthusiastically supported. Proponents such as me argued that a Homeless District would have given Pottsville a more 1970s New Yorkish, Bowery-type appearance which hopefully would have attracted the down and out from across the country, increasing the city's declining population and increasing employment for social and mental health workers.

“Right now Pottsville is losing many of its toothless drifters to warmer climates! We have to stop this steady out-migration,” one leading proponent fervently argued, “Although Pottsville leads the county in low income housing and shelters, we should not rest until every house in the city can be classified as low income subsidized housing. We don't want to become another Orwigsburg.”

4. The Thompson American Way Fair Museum. Since the first American Way (a/k/a “May Fair”) was held in 1976 to commemorate the anniversary of something or other, Pottsville City Hall has been flooded with discarded fair memorabilia. Proponents of this plan argue that the American Way Fair is “our generation’s history” and it is being ignored. For instance, the average child today is totally unaware that the idea of fiberglass insulation first came about when some American Way cotton candy fell against the wall of Kep’s corner store.

The next time you go to city hall, ask to look around the basement, but be prepared to cry. It will break your heart to see the voluminous buckets of funnel cake mix, fading photographs of mullet-haired, bare-chested revelers, and crumpled amusement ride ticket stubs all piled up, just waiting for a real home. The Thompson Building may be just the right size to exhibit the artifacts that are now just gathering dust within the bowels of city hall. Such a museum could rival the riveting Mummers' Museum in Philadelphia.

Fill'er up

If you have not noticed, gas prices keep going up; the price now ranges between $3.12 and 3.29 for regular unleaded. I think the prices will level off at around $7.49 right around Elvis’ birthday, also known as the Feast of the King. Mammy Trout was so concerned that she called one of our dysfunctional family conferences to discuss the situation. Mammy had always preached to us that it was “Manifest Destiny” for the Trouts to drive anywhere at anytime without concern of fuel prices. It appears that she is now reconsidering that position.
What do we drive? Well, Mammy drives her sexy ’03 Cadillac Escalade. I believe she drives it because she thinks that a large car makes a woman’s backside appear smaller, sort of like smoke and mirrors. Yes, artful deceitfulness. But when asked why she drives the Escalade, she politely answers, “there are only two options open to all drivers – it’s either kill or be killed when you are on the road.” Yes, she is a safety nut that puts a lot of miles on going back and forth to her Senior Olympics’ try-outs and boom-bas practices, and she takes pride in the fact that she has never been injured, either on the road, field or stage. Yes, she remains fairly active despite being on disability for her acute heliophobia, which is medical terminology for a fear of Pottsville’s helicopters. Incidentally, Mammy is a prime example of the old maxim "the older the driver, the larger the vehicle.” That maxim is one of life’s mysteries.
I drive a 1991 F-350 Supercab. Mammy told me that no man is a real man unless he drives an F-150 or higher. Like most men around here I basically use it to pick-up and return my DVDs from West Coast or Hollywood Video. My daughter Santana drives the smaller ‘99 Chevy Tahoe. Mammy is worried about the youngster driving around in such a small vehicle, but I told her she will be OK as she always drives with her helmet on.
Like most Schuylkill Countians we are now confronted with having to consider “cutting back” or “conserving energy.” Those words made Mammy’s chapped lips tremble with rage. She thought we were already doing enough by turning off our bug zapper promptly at 11 PM in the summer and 9 PM in the winter. Like Job from the land of Uz in the Old Testament she lamented to the heavens “What more is expected from me?”
At our dysfunctional family conference we came up with the following suggestions:

Instead of lubricating our engines with expensive Quaker state motor oil, we will use our left over Coney Island grease;

We will speed up and then coast down Market Street in the 2008 Cruise Night.

To lighten her Escalade Mammy will remove the hanging dice, the Maroon bobblehead, and the mud flaps;

We will all drive faster on Route 61, thereby cutting down our time spent on that highway.

We will use Mapquest to lay out routes that only take us downhill;

We will cut out one unessential trip per week by sleeping in every Sunday morning;

We will put a brick in our gas tanks which will make the tanks fill up faster on less gasoline;

At night we will sneak out and change the price signs at Sheetz to read .39 per gallon;

When her disability check is delivered, Mammy will walk to the mail box rather than drive;

We will demand that our gas purchases be by the liter as gas by the liter is cheaper.

McAdoo Associates' Super Fun Site

Mammy Trout is already planning our next summer vacation. We take the grandkids during our one week of so-called grandparents’ visitation. We'll pick them up at Burger King and head off somewhere nice. I wish our daughter, Santana, had not turned on us and made us get a court order. You know, she stopped talking to us after we disapproved of her attending the senior prom with someone other than one of the fathers of her children. Call us old-fashioned.
With gas prices so high we will stay closer to home. My dream vacation of Dutch Wonderland is out of the question as one has to drive by Lebanon. With all of the strife in the Mideast I would never venture anywhere near there. Mammy heard that there is a Super Fun Site up north in McAdoo. That is far from the border with Lebanon. Staying in Schuylkill County makes me less anxious so I told her to check it out. She was told that the owners of the Super Fun Site is a group called McAdoo Associates but Mammy checked the Schuylkill County Parcel Locator and the Recorder of Deeds and there is no place ever owned by McAdoo Associates. That is puzzling to me. She thought if she called before the end of the year we could lock in tickets at today’s prices. I would be bursting with pride if I owned a Super Fun Site that provides family entertainment. I would want the whole world to know that my land is both super and fun. I heard that this Super Fun Site is on the national register, so it must be as great as Coney Island, Angela Park or the Neverland Ranch. I have no idea why the ownership is being kept a mystery. I told Mammy to call the Schuylkill County Visitors’ Bureau and ask if any discount tickets to the McAdoo Super Fun Site are available. Despite being told an emphatic no, I quickly called the young ones and told them that “We’re going to McAdoo Associates’ Super Fun Site next summer!”
I can just picture all of the attractions there - tilt-o-whirls, bumper cars, and plenty of arcade games such as Skee Ball. I was told that there are plenty of barrels on the premises for the kids to play in and use their imagination. Fly ash and river dredge are other things the kids might be able to play in. More fun and less boring than Sesame Place. I bet there is even a waterslide at the place that splashes all over the place. Otherwise, why would I be told that everyone there should wear a biohazard suit? I don’t mind getting splashed one bit. I certainly will not be walking around eating cotton candy or caramel apples with a biohazard suit on. No sir. It’s a family outing and I will wear my favorite tank top. But maybe the Super Fun Site is sort of like the Renaissance Faire where everyone dresses up. If that’s the case, maybe I will put one on, but only if the theme is Star Wars, and everyone joins in a game of Lazer Tag..
Anyway, I finally found a map to the place. If you have the parcel numbers, then please email them to me. If I win a stuffed animal at the Super Fun site carnival booth, I promise to send it to you even though someone told me that the only animals I will find up there will be contaminated or dead ones. They were just pulling my leg. Weren’t they?
Mammy loves the carnival booths too. She said the last time she went to the American Way Fair some man told her she had to take off her shoes and then sit on his lap in order for him to get her weight guessed accurately. Mammy was very patient and had to sit there for fifteen minutes before he gave up. What that woman will do to win an oversized, plastic Section 8 ball. The man didn’t mind losing as he told her to come back later as he’d like to guess her weight some more. I told her one prize was enough. Don’t we already have enough Section 8 balls?

I wonder if McAdoo has a flume ride. I ask because I was told that I may get tied to a log and hurled down a stripping hole if I keep asking too many questions about the history of the place. That sounds more exciting than the spinning tea cups at Dutch Wonderland but I think I will pass on that one. I can’t wait until next summer.

SUPER FUN!

Pottsville Invasion of the Body Snatchers (2008)

It's Halloween. Time for a scary story.... When those canisters started appearing in front of Pottsville's buildings after the massive rainwater collection project was completed in 2006, I had a dream that they were part of an alien invasion. Maybe watching "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" 1,ooo times may have had something to do with it. In my dream I was asked to write a review of a movie. My dream came with one intermission for popcorn at 3 A.M.
On the top is a photo of what I am talking about. You see them along Mahantongo St. and the west side.



Look! You fools! You’re in danger! Can’t you see? They’re after you! They’re after all of us! Our wives…our children…they’re here already! You’re next! — Miles Bennett, downtown Pottsville merchant


POTTSVILLE INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS (2008)

On the heels of already three remakes of the original 1956 Invasion of the Body Snatchers, a fourth sequel will be released on January 1st, premiering at the Sovereign Majestic Theatre. I was given a sneak preview and asked to write a review. I promised to release my review a few days prior to the release but little did the producer know that I don’t keep promises. Never have and never will. So here it goes….

I hope you are in the mood for one of the best in science fiction as this is it. The plot follows the original, but with twists. In this version, a local pawn shop owner begins to notice that the local Pottsville citizenry “don’t seem to be themselves lately.” The may look the same, but they are cold and indifferent.

“I'd hate to wake up some morning and find out that you weren't you”

The owner decides to check things out for himself. He walks to the corner of Centre and Mahantongo Streets and patiently waits for the "Walk" signal, while waiting he stares at the fountain next to Dr. Akbar's office wondering if it is really a fountain or just a leaky wall. Five minutes later he runs up Mahantongo Street, discovering that aliens from another world are indeed taking over the city. Emissaries from a distant planet have sent small green and white canisters to be planted in front of buildings and houses. These canisters emit some alien spores that eventually become larger pods that take over the physical likeness of each and every household member. Yes, from these canisters the townspeople are being replaced, one by one - perfect physical duplicates that dispose of their human victims, presumably by placing them out on the sidewalk on the correct garbage pickup day (careful not to violate the five bag limit).

Yes, the space aliens may look just like Pottsvillians but they possess no human emotions. No love, no hate. Why, they are even indifferent to whether or not the Maroons get the 1925 football title back or whether or not the city enforces the building code ordinances They are concerned with only taking over the planet. What better place do it than in Pottsville, the confirmed center of the universe as determined by the curator at the local planetarium.

“At first glance, everything looked the same. It wasn't.... Something evil had taken possession of the town.”

Needless to say, it’s always been hard to tell who is a Pottsvillian and who is a space alien, but in this film the alien population grows so rapidly. Their presence is quite noticeable; the sinister canisters are quite visible to the observant such as me. But most citizens are too busy simultaneously driving and texting sub and pizza orders to Charlie's on their cell phones, unaware of the ever-growing menace. Their craving for fastfood make it so much easier for the aliens.

“ I'm telling you something is going on here.”

The theme of this brilliant, terrifying motion picture is open to various interpretations, including the paranoia surrounding frightening ideologies such as Charlie McCarthyism, or Groucho Marxism. However, someone at the Eagles Bar told me that the canisters have something to do with the massive city sewer project, and that there is absolutely no symbolism in the film. While I say "Hogwash" to any connection with the sewer project I do agree with the barfly that the film is not symbolic. To me the film is a true documentary of the heroic struggle to combat this deadly threat of space invasion, a space invasion that City Hall, the Pottsville High School Planetarium and the Sewer Authority have ignored ever since the Rosewell cover-up.

Finally, I promised the producer not to tell how the movie ends, so here it goes:
The movie ends with climatic shots of the pawn shop owner running down Centre Street futilely trying to warn motorists that “They are here already! Look at the canisters placed in front of the houses and buildings! You’re next!” But the Jeeps and SUVs travel by on their way to Wing Night at the Stadium Bar, with every driver and passenger ignoring him as if he was nothing but another befuddled downtown street person waiting for the Walk sign.

“ Operator, Get me Chief Murton! Sound an all points alarm. Block all highways, stop all traffic, and call every law enforcement agency in the county. Yes, call the bouncers at the Tap! Call the Pinkerton Agents! Call the ruler-toting nuns from atop the Hill! It's an emergency! Those canisters are from outer space! Take a look in front of your own house right now! ...You' re next!!!”

Two thumbs WAY up!

We want the Maroon's championship back - NOW!

(left) The “Mona Lisa” of football memorabilia, an almost mint condition rare Maroons' pitchie card. Estimated value is $2.5 million. It is kept in the steel, concrete and granite vault fifty feet below City Hall and guarded around the clock by Pinkerton Agents, alligators and ruler-toting nuns. This particular pitchie card displays quarterback, "Jalappa Joe" Flannagan, when the 1923 Pottsville team was a member of the American Rooftop Football League. When the league collapsed in 1924. "Jalappa Joe" died in that collapse. His remains were interned at Pic A Pac Park, South Centre Street, where a concrete monument was erected in his memory. He is considered the "lost Maroon," and his name is a frequent answer on the popular TV quiz show "Jeopardy" under the category "Hodge Podge." This pitchie card is one of two featuring "Jalappa Joe" Flanagan still in existence. The other one is at the Vatican. It is scheduled to be displayed the week of October 8th, 2007 during Pottsville's Maroon Week festivities.





I was hoping that Pottsville Maroons would have reclaimed its 1925 NFL championship by now. I still have Grandpappy Trout’s crumpled, old Maroon wager slips placed high away in the drawer; never giving up faith that someday I would receive the pay-off that Pappy should have received. Pappy had an uncanny ability to pick sports winners and, with the championship restored, he too would be posthumously vindicated, as the compounded interest earned on those winning slips would be greater than what I would get with my lousy daily number tickets.
In 1925, we thought the Chicago game clinched the title for our Maroons. Did you know that about 1,000 fans packed the Hippodrome to get a running account of the game from a ham radio operator while live actors recreated the event on the stage, play by play? They did this, as television hadn’t been invented yet. Yes, there was actually a time without television. No “Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” no “Jerry Springer Show,” no “Deal or No Deal.” It was a very bleak time indeed.
Fans greeted the team when they arrived back at the train station the day after the big game. As Prohibition was the law of the land, and even fermented Gatorade was illegal, the festivities were rather subdued. Everyone held up a cone of Yuengling ice cream and made a celebratory toast while the Third Brigade Band played a rousing musical tribute to fallen Maroon, "Jalappa Joe" Flannigan. That was about it. There was no looting downtown; no one ran off with stolen phonographs, toasters, vacuum cleaners or iceboxes. In effect, it was very dull.
If the trophy was given back to Pottsville, then things would be a lot different now. For starters, Pottsville would go absolutely bananas. Just imagine Cruise Night, Winter Carnival, Disability Check Day and the Spelling Bee all rolled up into one! That's how it would be.
I am sure that the first priority would be for Mayor Reiley to receive the long awaited congratulatory phone call from the President of the United States. In fact, I was told that a special crank handle telephone was installed in 1925 just to receive that important call; that same phone is still in the Mayor’s office just collecting dust as it sits on top of the building code ordinances. Unfortunately, the President making the call would not be silent Calvin Coolidge, but George W. Bush. Maybe "D.W." could ask “W.” how Chaney enjoyed his visit to Pottsville back in 2004 and if he plans to come back soon.
I am sure that the last surviving Maroon cheerleader will be carefully flown by medivac helicopter from Mazucca's landing pad to King’s Plaza for the biggest victory party this area will ever experience. Hopefully the excitement will not be too much for her, as she is dressed in a flapper outfit, giving one last inspiring Maroons cheer for “her boys.”

King’s Plaza is the shopping mall outside of Minersville and it was the Maroons’ playing field for those of you ignorant of the team’s glorious history. Palermo’s Restaurant is located on the 50-yard line, but back in 1925 pizza hadn’t been brought to America yet. The football fans at that time dined mainly on pork and sauerkraut. They also swallowed live goldfish. In any event, the Maroons never played in Pottsville, just as the New York Giants don’t play in New York.

I was so sure that the Maroons was going to get their title back that I invested heavily in Maroon bobbleheads, shower curtains, aprons and blankets. My living room is now filled with boxes of Frank Racis, Barney Wentz, and Charley Berry bobbleheads. If any of you have any resemblance to any of these players then please contact me and we can work out a deal.
You do know that the NFL a few years ago blocked Pottsville’s attempted field goal by voting 30-2 against reinstating the 1925 championship? I think the two teams that voted for Pottsville were The Providence Steam Roller and the Canton Bulldogs. That stinks.
Is it all over for us? How can we hold our heads up high again? Why even Pottsie Ottsie, the Maroons’ mascot, has been the subject of vicious attacks; more vicious than those inflicted upon the Milwaukee Brewer’s Italian Sausage Mascot several summers ago. This must stop! We must reclaim our dignity, title or not. Having the Maroons' Week in the city is a good thing but won't get the trophy back. Hunger strikes have been suggested as a peaceful approach. A few brave souls are even willing to forego nacho cheese and beer bologna until our demands our met. Other suggested a more militant strategy including guerrilla tactics. Rumor has it that Gombar’s Costume Shop in St. Clair cannot keep up with the demand for guerrilla costumes. Other militants plan to paint their bellies maroon and keep them that way until the crown is returned. Huge demonstrations are being planned at Henry Clay Park and with large “UP YOURS, NFL!” banner to be placed in Henry’s hand for all passing motorists to see.
I sure just hope things don’t get ugly around here. To avoid violence we must keep our demands simple and limited to three:

the title is to be immediately returned with an apology.

the NFL must buy up all my bobbleheads.

Grandpappy’s wager slips must be honored with compounded interest of course.

Maroon fans, are you with us or against us?

Schuylkill Living's "Best Wedding Location"

Again, I think another hoax has been foisted upon me. I do not think this ever appeared in Schuylkill Living Magazine. I do not believe a word of it. Do you?

SCHUYLKILL LIVING MAGAZINE has Pic A Pac Park voted the favorite location for wedding ceremonies in the County


"Pic A Parc Park – the most breathtaking spot in the Pottsville historic district - is home to the city’s only botanical garden, making it the ideal setting for ceremonies of any size. Whether it is a close and intimate gathering or a grand and lavish affair, a wedding at the Park is sure to set the scene for romance and create timeless memories," so say the readers of Schuylkill Living Magazine. Yes, a wedding among the Park’s lush vegetation looks as if it is part of dream. Luckily you wake up and it is over.

Imagine your own private garden celebration underneath the city stars! Pic A Pac Park provides the perfect backdrop for the wedding or civil union celebration you’ve always dreamed about. The abundant manicured landscapes and winding pathways of the Park make a celebration truly unforgettable to say the least.

Pic A Pac Park has been called “the hidden jewel” located in the heart of Pottsville historic district. It sits on a small parcel of ground of serene rock and flourishing landscapes, cradled among Victorian era structures in ruinous conditions, catching the eye of every person entering the city from the south. It is a place of magnificence with undoubtedly one of the finest collections of indigenous vegetation to be found anywhere in the downtown business district, all breathtaking when in full bloom, especially to those with allergies. Kleenex, however, is available across the street at the Pic A Deli.

For a romantic journey back to the era of Victorian elegance, Pic A Pac Park in southeast Pottsville is a place where time seems to stand still. Some saying it brings to mind Dresden after the War or Atlanta after Sherman marched through. In any event, a wedding or civil union ceremony will have all of the guests in jaw dropping awe.

Everyone wants their wedding or civil union to be remarkable. This is a milestone that marks the end of one journey and the beginning of another until something better comes along of course. Whether you have met your soulmate in a bar room or internet chat room, Pottsville has it all. Many people refer to Pic A Pac as a “Storybook Destination” because of its urban chic character and the history found everywhere. This is why the little hide-away has been distinguished as among the “Best of Schuylkill” by readers of Schuylkill Living Magazine for a tranquil and romantic wedding venue guaranteeing elegance, distinction and sophistication.

Some additional information you need to know if you are interested in reserving the park:

Bookings are accepted on a first-come first-served basis. American Way Fair and Cruise Week are very popular seasons, so plan early.

Only one ceremony is permitted on Saturday and one on Sunday at 9 a.m. Ceremony must be completed by 10 a.m., when the grounds open to the public. No exceptions.

Fee: $350 for up to 50 people. Fee is cash only and is nonrefundable. Ceremony is held rain or shine. No indoor bathroom facility available. Be creative.

Ceremonies are all stand-up. No chairs, tables, decorations, balloons, rice, or birdseed, rabbit pellets or losing lottery tickets.

For those having trouble standing, sitting on the cement blocks is acceptable.

Boom-bas music, as well as Irish drinking songs, are available at an additional expense.

For information on wedding or civil union ceremonies, please call The City Hall Garage.

cybersquatting

I have been reading about cybersquatting. That was a new word for me. It sounds like one of those words created by the merger of two words. Many years ago when I was trying out for the Spelling Bee, a word such as that did not yet exist. Back then, the new merged words were mcmuffin, funkadelic and reintarnation. The latter word is defined as "being reborn, after death, as a hillbilly." I had trouble with that one. Because of that one word I never made the final Spelling Bee cut.
“Cybersquatting” sounds to me as a form of exercise that would hurt one’s quadriceps, glutes, hamstrings and calves. It also sounds hi-tech, as if one was performing the exercise with a laptop, trying to check email and instant messages or engaging in on-line gambling at the same time. Years ago I heard of the “dumbbell squat,” so why not a “cybersquat?”
I had forgotten most basic exercises after developing carpal tunnel syndrome from my long, repetitive use of the television remote control. As my arm is better thanks to good chiropractic care, I quickly went up to the Patrick J. McGeever Health & Fitness Center in a tucked-away section of Pottsville to get the lowdown on squats. Did you know that Pottsville has a habit of naming practically everything after local politicians? Pat, a fine person, was the former head of the Democratic Party, and I guess politics has something to do with health and fitness. Politics is certainly considered a sport in Schuylkill County, less popular than football or pigeon shooting, but far more popular than Canasta or midget wrestling.
The Center is very nice and I highly recommend it. But first you have to be good on directions or else you may end up driving for hours; too exhausted to perform any exercises once you arrive. But if you are fatigued, feel free to lay down on the trampoline. There is a chance you could become lost for days, so I recommend purchasing a GPS for your car before venturing there. If money is a problem, get a compass or look for the North Star. I am warning you, most of the whirlybird Medivac flights involve rescuing walkers lost on the way to the McGeever Center.
The trainer at the Center explained to me a basic squat. The squat is performed by bending the legs at the knees and hips, lowering the torso between the legs, and then reversing direction to stand up straight again. The torso remains relatively upright throughout the movement. It sounds simple enough, but I dare you to get up off your lazy boy rocker and try one right now.
I placed my laptop on the floor and went into the Patrick J. McGeever Changing Room. I needed to look my best before I could consider even doing one regular squat. I know that I have the God given talent to become the perfect cybersquatter. I glanced at myself in the large mirror on the wall. I looked so cool (no pun intended) after donning my mawashi. The mawashi, as you know, is the embarrassing silk ribbon that a sumo wrestler wears. Huff’s Sporting Goods used to sell them in downtown Pottsville when that area used to have stores. Maybe Ollies at the Cressona Mall has them if you are interested? Tell them trout sent you. Mawashis make great Christmas presents.
After I performed my Shinto ritual hand-clapping and leg-stomping to drive away the evil spirits, I was ready to perform a squat; my laptop was still on the floor. I wanted to master a basic squat before attempting a cybersquat. I am not sure if my knees gave out first, or my back. All I remember is getting assisted from off both the floor and the broken computer. I was quickly led outside to smoke a cigarette which I purchased from the Patrick J. McGeever Cigarette Vending Machine. I thought to myself, “I think I have just slipped a floppy disk,” as I slowly exhaled and cloud-like rings of smoke rose into the autumn blue Pottsville sky.
I then realized the evils of squatting, cyber or otherwise. Doctors had warned us of the inherent risks, but I failed to heed their advice as the only physician I ever had faith in was Dr. Pepper.

At that moment a Pottsville whirlybird landed and a medivac person approached, believing I needed assistance. I told him I injured myself while cyberquatting. When he told me cybersquatting was illegal in California, I responded, “So what! California is the state that allowed OJ, Robert Blake and Phil Spector to get away with homicide.” I was then strapped onto a stretcher and flown to my chiropractor’s office within seconds thanks to the Pottsville whirlybirds.

I would cybersquat no more.

Pic-A-Pac Park

Someone sent me this article, supposedly from Wikipedia. I think it is a hoax.

Pic-A-Pac Park

Pic-A-Pac Park, at the corner of Morris and South Centre Streets, is one of the small environmental gem’s in the city of Pottsville and pivotal in the revitalization of Centre Street. While only .11 acres, it is the only free WiFi internet access park in the city. On days when the weather is nice, Pic-A-Pak Park is a popular spot for area workers to eat lunch with carry outs from the nearby Pic-A-Deli while checking their rub-off lottery tickets.

History
The park occupies part of a ridge of unusual rock formations that date back to the Pleistocene era. The metamorphic rocks, of sandstone, magnetite and green kryptonite are the result of geological activity from the much earlier Paleozoic era when man eating dinosaurs roamed Centre Street. These wondrous boulders are visible in the middle of the park.. To those not geologically savvy, the large boulders are sometimes mistaken for concrete refuse.
After the founding of Pottsville in 1811, one of the Pott family accidentally invented the funnel cake on this location while attempting to make a desert for the American Way Fair on the open hearth built originally by dear friend, Necho Allen. Later, the site was the location of the infamous Pottsville draft beer riots of 1863 which resulted from the price of draft beer being raised to a nickel to support the Union cause. Eventually a grand, Queen Anne-style town house was erected at 430 S. Centre St. Some called the building “ a red brick castle.” In the 1880s it was the home to businessman William Lesley Sheafer, whose son Clinton was the model for Whit Hoffman in O’Hara’s “Appointment in Samarra.” In the 1930’s it became the headquarters for the Pennsylvania State Police. It was at this barracks that began the practice of giving every criminal six wallet size photos for every mug shot taken. In 1991 it became the home of the “Pick A Pack” Beverage Take-Out Store until the building burned to the ground in March 2001 during one of Pottsville’s dazzling fires. From the time the last embers were extinguished, the new Pic-A-Pac Park was an instant and spectacular success, immediately attracting tourists from as far away as Mount Carbon. Pic-A-Pac was selected as the name to give the area a more French-like feel. Unlike many other parks, Pic-A-Pac contains no amusements, swing sets, funnel cake stands or any other intrusions on its rusticity. It is a welcome oasis where one can escape the hustle and, even sometimes, the bustle of life in downtown Pottsville.


Pic-A-Pac Park today
Lush landscaping with horticultural elements such as flowering giant ragweed, common milkweed, redroot pigweed, lambsquarters, velvetleaf, and other vegetation can be easily identified.
On Labor Day weekend, the annual Pic-A-Pac Park Summer Animated Film Festival is held, which has made Pottsville synonymous with cartoons. The film festival ranks well below Cannes, Toronto and Sundance in importance. Movies are projected onto the adjoining building wall which acts as a large screen and people of all ages sit on the ground to watch, laugh and point their fingers at the antics of lovable cartoon characters. The film festival began in 2002 with the premiere of “Steamboat Itchy,” the Itchy and Scratchy full feature which drew a crowd of 87. On Labor Day, 2007, the debut of the first Henry Clay claymation film was shown , "Henry Clay vs. the California Raisins" which featured a Gumby-like statesman/orator battling it out with his old nemesis, those california raisins. The claymation film drew a standing ovation from those in attendance.
Pic A Pac Park is also location of the annual reinactment of the 1863 Pottsville Draft Beer Riot which draws a fairly sizable following of enthusiastic participants, aged often between 8 and 94, willing to brave the elements and expend money and resources in their efforts to duplicate the events down to the smallest recorded detail, even yelling out annoyingly, "no beer, no peace."

References
^ America's Most Visited City Parks

Pottsville City Code

External links
List of municipal parks in the United States
Public park

California Raisins

Itchy and Scratchy

Norwegian Creek resurfaces,and I smell bad fish puns

Third Brigade Band -above

Nowegian Creek - left

Ahoy matey! The City of Pottsville has reached a fork in the river. It now has an opportunity to reel in a prized catch. That is, the chance to transfer itself into another San Antonio, Texas. All of this came about when the Norwegian Creek, long covered over with asphalt, surfaced once again.
What does that creek have to do with San Antonio? Well, listen up, folks. San Antonio’s River Walk is a tourist’s paradise. You will find shops, restaurants, and hotels lining the San Antonio River. You will find boats to take you down the canals while listening to the Mariachi bands playing along the banks. And in late November, the River Walk takes on a holiday glow. The colorful lights along the river will put you in the holiday mood. Do you now get my drift? It is not manta be funny. I am serious.
You may scoff at the idea of Pottsville angling to become another San Antonio. You may say to yourself, there is no way that shops and restaurants will be perched along Norwegian Creek. You may scoff at herring that The Third Brigade Band will dress in tightly cut pants, short-waisted, extravagantly embroidered jackets with silver buttons, and large sombreros to serenade tourists with Mariachi music. But please listen to me; it can be done if we all get on board. It is either sink or swim. We cannot simply flounder along. The Mayor should immediately make waves and order Mazzucca Enterprises to rip up the rest of coverings over Norwegian Creek. This could be Pottsville’s own version of the Panama Canal construction, one whale of a project.
I don’t think that the transformation to another San Antonio will be easy. The City will have to start out slowly. Pottsvillians are not accustomed to rapid changes. Perhaps next April a very modest trout rodeo could be held to get our feet wet. The winners could have their pictures taken with the Mayor, Jerry Enders, and the PADCO people –familiar faces which should make them feel comfortable. Gradually the town folk will adjust to the fact that Pottsville is now a booming river hamlet, and this concept will anchor itself in our collective thought process for good. I am sure that within a few years Pottsville will be swamped with fishermen every April. The City could promote, on a grand scale, the legendary mackerel breakfasts that have made Pottsville synonymous with Omega 3. Most people in the City already are accustomed to a plateful of mackerel every morning. They either eat the fish for their heart or just for the halibut.
In the summer, the downtown Norwegian Creek area will become alive with young windsurfers giving their mussels a workout. The potential is unlimited. I can see antique bathtub races in May, whitewater races in June, and slalom races in July. Why even salamander festivals in the fall! The city should immediately float a bond and sink all of the booty into pirate costumes for the downtown regulars to wear. Hand the costumes out to whoever will put them on! With just a simple change of outfits, everyday Pottsvillians can be magically changed into Captain Jacks, Long John Silvers, Blackbeards, Jean Lafittes, Captain Kidds, Henry Morgans and an assortment of buccaneers and river wenches, giving the city an authentic nautical look all year round. And I mean all year round. When the temperatures drop below freezing, the Creek will become a sparkling waterway through the center of the City. Imagine yourself ice skating on this frozen creek to the Hong Kong Buffet for some General Tso’s chicken, listening to the strains of the Third Brigade Band still playing mariachi music in the dead of winter. If that isn’t appealing enough then I am sure this will be. Visualize in your mind for one moment the following: Holahan’s, the Brass Tap, The Eagles, Maroons, and all of the other watering holes, setting up kiosks on the frozen creek to dispense heart-warming liqueurs to the passer-bys. Well, shiver my timbers, doesn’t that alone make you want to crab your silver skates and fishtail it right downtown this very minnow?
So, I hope I have crabbed your attention. This all may sound fishy, but this is not rudder nonsense – it is factual truth, but I won't carp on this anymore. The City Administrator needs your support for this titanic undertaking. Drop him a line and tell him full steam ahead.

Transform Pottsville into a river town.

Our Lady of....where?.... Minersville?

I was out of town and I missed all of the excitement in Minersville. From what I understand the town now is ready to skyrocket into the big league. First there was Fatima, then there was Lourdes (or do I have it backwards? I just don’t know.). Now there will be Minersville. Will Minersville be ready for the challenge when tens of thousands of pilgrims visit the sleepy little community made famous by its two wedding halls, its federal prison, and being the home of Joseph Balsis, a legendary billiards champion. I doubt it.

Then I started to wonder. Why would Mary, the mother of Jesus, visit Minersville of all places? It is baffling to me. I remember the old Miracle Mart just outside of town in the Plaza; when that place closed so did the town’s connection with anything metaphysical - or so I thought. By the way, the only miracle I ever remember happening in that old department store was being able to squeeze through a narrow aisle filled with wide shoppers, all in polyester stretch pants, who were coming towards me with their shopping carts. I was there to buy a Doobie Brothers eight track at the time.

I do know that if I were in heaven right now and I could return to earth I certainly would pick a place like the resort of Punta Cana in the Dominican Republic; I would also pick the month of January and not August to appear there. But I guess if I was going to appear in Minersville then I certainly would pick August and not January. Did you ever go to Minersville in January with the snow and slush all around? It’s enough to make you want to stop going to the Sunbury Street Frank ‘n Burger in the winter time (almost).
Some say that word may have got out in the celestial heavens that Minersville was to celebrate “Spirit Day” and perhaps it may have been misinterpreted as “Holy Spirit Day.” Did you ever hear some elderly person from Heckscherville talk real fast? Could you figure out what he or she was saying? You get the picture - a failure to communicate properly.

Others say that no one told her that Rokosz Hotel was closed. She thought Rokosz' was still having "Our Lady's Night" on Wednesdays. I certainly think someone is trying to pull my leg on that one. But do you remember Rokosz’ Hotel on Sunbury Street? I had great times there back in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s. If it reopened I would go back. I remember seeing “The Other Side” play there with Jimmy Kimmel singing a rockin’ “Expressway to Your Heart.” I saw them first at “The Globe” and then later at Rokosz’ and the Minersville Legion on Sunday nights. It was like heaven, man. That was when Minersville was at its artistic peak.

But why visit a garage on Lewis Street? I mean, if your mind is set on visiting Minersville, and there is no changing it, then why not visit a car dealership, say like Mickey Pritz’s Chrysler showroom, rather than a garage. That’s where I would have appeared, as if anyone would care. Maybe I would even take a test drive in a ’07 convertible Crossfire while waiting for crowds to gather. Or maybe head I would over to the Minersville football field and show coach Pat Mason the intricacies of throwing a real “Hail Mary” pass.

All of this has gotten me to write a book. The premise of my book is that Minersville is really “heaven,” (but no one has figured it out yet) and everyone living in Minersville, past or present, is a cherubim, seraphim or archangel. I mean everyone, including our county coroner and all the employees at Palarmo’s Restaurant.

Joe Balsis will definitely be an Archangel in my book, as he has a leading role. My book will have similarities with three films: the Bruce Willis hit movie, “The Sixth Sense”, the Jackie Gleason movie about a pool shark called, “The Hustler", and lastly the religious movie from the ‘40s, “The Song of Bernadette.” Two thumbs up from me on all of those films! Go over to West Coast video and check them all out. You won’t be disappointed with any of them. You can stop there on your way to the little garage in Minersville.

The Atkins Diet Schuylkill County Connection

Dear b.b.

I heard there is a connection between the Atkins diet and the County. Is that true?

Signed, Wondering

Dear Wondering:


I was flabbergasted to realize that there are people like you with neither a sense of history nor local pride. Did you not ever hear of the Atkins Mansion in Pottsville? From the ignorance shown in your letter it appears not.
What if I told you that Hope Tower (affectionately referred to as the Old Moose Building), located at South Centre and Mauch Chunk Streets was once a leading center for nutritional advancement? What if I told you that local hero Charles Atkins – the famed industrialist and Exalted Moose Lodge President- was a diet guru to boot? Would you believe me? Probably not.

Did you not ever hear of the controversial “Schuylkill food pyramid” promoted by Atkins but ridiculed by the so-called professionals? If you did not, I can probably guess what were you doing during your high school home economics class.

Atkins was a clear visionary; one not to be content with the typical 19th century diet. He thought that nutrition should be exalted as a true science, along with the other sciences, such as biology, botany and astrology. He researched the basic eating habits of his neighbors and developed his famous “Schuylkill Food Pyramid” which overturned many longstanding beliefs and rearranged the foods that we eat into basic building blocks. He arranged these blocks into pyramids after several failed attempts at parallelograms and circles. Circles were a disaster.
Many local residents, you and your like included, have forgotten that Atkins created this pyramid, as well as instituting the many changes in the way we eat today. So many of you take for granted the fact that we eat hoagies with two hands, a radical departure from the dining habits of the 19th century. You have Atkins to thank for that.
The foundation of his pyramid would no longer be the “serf diet” eaten by our ancestors, which consisted of porridge, gruel and turnips. From now on, the basic foods of the day would be the protein “building blocks.” Most of this protein could easily be obtained by a high consumption of hot dogs, scrapple, beef jerky, bologna, summer sausage and, of course, gravy.





Eggs were to be considered just as important as the meats. Atkins espoused the nutritional value of pickled eggs that float in jars for days in barrooms; eggs that you and so many other ignoramuses eat without ever given a thought to the creator while in a local tavern.
Poultry was also important. Atkins touted the nutritional benefits of eating both city chicken and Buffalo wings. In fact, he started the first Wing Night in the county. A proud tradition carried on to this day where young adults can consume as many chicken wings (dipped in bleu cheese or ranch dressing) as possible at a greatly reduced price.





As for legumes and beans, they were only to be consumed if they were made into a soup and served at a block party and washed down with healthy cold beer, which he thought to be a magical elixir which cured most ailments as well as increased one’s self-confidence and ability to attract the opposite sex.
Seafood was considered taboo due to his fears of high mercury content. In fact, the only seafood he proposed be eaten was a small amount of Swedish fish, which are soft and chewy and are similar to gummy bears in shape and texture. They have a flavor that lasts from head to tail. Many of you may remember that these Swedish fish were quite popular at the Capitol and Hollywood Theatres years ago. You have Atkins to thank for that.
Moving upwards on the pyramid, we find the good carbos such as bleenies and Tasteycakes. Bleenies eaten on a paper plate or paper napkin provided an individual with sufficient fiber to keep oneself regular and avoid constipation, thereby eliminating the necessity for fruit and vegetables. If one gives in to temptation and wanted to indulge in fruits, then Raisinets, peach snapps, and Fruit Loops taken separately or together were acceptable. The only vegetable permitted is tobacco.
Climbing to the top, you reach the dairy products level; important for the calcium to make the strong bones and strong teeth needed to work in the Pottsville steel mills. For this he recommended Eskimo Pies, Fudgesicles, Reddi Whip, Cheese Whiz and Milk Duds.
Lastly Wondering, Atkins also cautioned his male compatriots that there was one food that should be avoided at all costs, and that was, of course, “the wedding cake.” It is a pity that so many failed to adhere to his warning.
That is the story behind the Atkins Diet: Schuylkill Style.