Orthodox St. Patrick's Day

Late Breaking News: 10:00 A.M. Former President Bill Clinton will participate in the traditional Orthodox St. Patrick's Day Parade which will occur today March 29, 2008 in the tiny borough of Girardville.

As we all know, Orthodox St. Patrick's Day occurs on the first Saturday following Easter when the first full moon rises above the Broad Mountain after the vernal equinox has occurred and Jupiter has aligned with Mars. The exact date is decided upon one year in advance by a committee of religious Scribes, Pharisees, astrological leaders and well-respected bartenders of the community. But to simplify matters, you can bet that it is two weeks after the traditional St. Patrick's Day, allowing the sale of Yuengling Beer to continue long after March 17th.

The last former president to have marched in the Orthodox St. Patrick's Day Parade is believed to have been Ulysses S. Grant, who always liked a good time. Although some historians argue that his appearance was purely accidental due to the onset of some neurological disorder.

Update: 7:00 P.M. Former President Clinton (and possible future first gentleman Clinton) left Girardville - Mission accomplished. He came, he saw, he conquered. There is no doubt that Hillary will win big in Girardville this April. She should sweep every precinct in the borough. The question is: "will her margin of victory in Girardville be large enough to compensate for the expected lower vote totals in Philadelphia, even if the ward leaders can get big numbers in the cemetery precincts?" Only time will tell.

Yes, the Orthodox St. Patrick’s Day was a huge success. Just as Election Day, Christmas and New Year Day are celebrated late, the Orthodox of the area have always celebrated all of the major holidays and events approximately two weeks after the rest of us. St. Patrick’s Day is no different, except that this year, the former President of the United States attended the Girardville Parade this year. He certainly felt at home in an area that is reminiscent of parts of rural Arkansas. Incidentally, he is just another V.I.P. to be Grand Marshall of the Parade, following the likes of Mother Theresa (who wowed the crowd and spent a few hours at the Hiberian House after the parade) and, of course, my favorite, MTV's Flava Flav.

Grand Marshall Flava Flav, 2007

Grand Marshall Mother Theresa, 1988

The parade started approximately one half hour late, which was not unusual for parade of this magnitude. The parade was led by a large group of bearded altar servers bearing candles, fans, banners and other processional implements relative to the festive occasion to honor St. Patrick. The crowd was subdued and somber. Afterwards came a group of deacons, sub deacons, religious elders, Pharisees, Sadducees, and then the barkeeps, all carrying burning anthracite coal for incense, as well as for heating the corned beef and cabbage. Others in the crowd carried icons of Irish heritage such as images of Edgar Bergan, Charlie McCarthy, Bono and Conan O’Brien. The crowd become more lively after the bag pipe brigades, cossack dancers, and the giant anatomically correct leprechaun balloons passed by.

Icon of Edgar Bergan and Charlie McCarthy

Main Street, Girardville during Orthodox St. Patrick's Day Parade

The former president, in the middle of the parade route, stopped the float he was riding on, hopped off and gave a few words of encouragement to the crowd hinting that "the Great Depression may soon be over for the coal region" before tasting a few of the regions finest pierogies, haluskies and bundukies. I understand he filled up a doggie bag, supposedly for his loyal Buddy, who must be pushing 25 by now. Here is a photo of Buddy, who hopes to get back into the White House once again.
The only glitch in the whole event was when the former president was repeatedly told that the correct pronounciation for "Mahanoy Creek" is "Ma-annoy Crick."

It was the greatest Orthodox St. Parade's Parade that I can remember.
I will leave you with a traditional Orthodox St. Patrick's Day toast:
A man that can't say an unkind word, should meet an Irishman. Na Zdorov'ye!

Easter week, Schuylkill style

What it week it was. First St. Patrick’s Day occurred during one of the earliest Holy Weeks that I can remember. This confused everyone, not knowing whether to get palms or shamrocks.
Then before you knew it, it was St. Joseph’s Day. Why is that day important? Well, it is the day that the Canadian geese return to Schuylkill Haven. We headed over to watch them dive-bomb towards Bubeck Park, formerly known as Stoyer’s Dam, to the sounds of practically every fire whistle in town. The whole town assembled in a carnival-like atmosphere to greet their feathery friends who land and make Schuylkill Haven their home until Burro Day in late September when they take off for the south once again.

After watching the avian wonder of nature, it was back to Pottsville for the egg hunt at Pic-a-Pac Park on South Centre Street where the Recreation Department hid eggs practically everywhere. Take a good look when you drive by, there is still a few under the concrete slags. Luckily the youngsters were handed out shovels, weedwackers, and egg detectors so that most of the eggs could be found before the nightly frost set in. I put a small Canadian goose egg in the exhaust pipe of one abandoned vehicle at the park. I hope some lucky child found it before dark.
If that was not enough, we then drove over on Wednesday to Shenandoah to stand in the long line at Kowalanek’s for the Easter kielbassi. Legend has it that it was served at the Last Supper. I am not quite sure about that though. Take a good look at the de Vinci painting; it is hard to see what is on the table.

Our trip was marred only by a heated discussion between a man and a woman who kept up an argument over correct pronunciation. She said it was kielbassi with a long e ending, while he said it should be pronounced kielbass –a, with a short a sound at the end. The Shenandoah riot police quickly took them away and peace was restored. We got inside and packed our grub in our large the coolers and headed back to Pottsville.

As we had reserved tickets, we headed to the famed Peanut Roll Exhibit at the Historical Society, an exhibit that rivals the Faberge eggs that the Russian Tzars collected and displayed. The peanut rolls have a better taste. You know, Carl Faberge made his jewel- encrusted eggs for the Romanovs but none of them could be eaten. Our Historical Society proudly has on display the greatest collection of Mootz peanut rolls ever assembled. Some of these peanut rolls were actually made for John and Maria Pott and the rest of the Pott dynasty when Pottsville was still but a dream. They are not really rolls, but creamy candy balls. If you want rolls, then you have to go to Capitol Bakery.

This Exhibit at the Historical Society allows a visitor to get up close and personal with this fine array of mouth-watering candies. I have been to many a candy museum, such as Hershey’s and the Bazooka Gum Museum, but neither can compare to this local exhibit. Viewing the Mootz collection of historic peanut rolls up close, from all angles, gives the spectator a way to gain a real appreciation for the particular detail, design, and fastidious workmanship of Mootz. It goes to say that photographs (and Mammy took hundreds) will never capture the subtlety of the glow of each unique peanut roll. With the glitter of every peanut roll, each one seems to have a life of its own. The stuff of which their made – vanilla butter cream, dark chocolate and ground peanut – makes them time capsules of Pottsville’s grand history.

Last photograph: Faberge egg which unlike peanut roll, cannot be eaten

I cannot impress upon you the importance of taking the entire family to see the Mootz Peanut Roll Exhibit. It is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to experience the elegance of the Mootz family – legendary candymakers to all of the high and mighty within Schuylkill County, Pennsylvania. Peanut roll wrappers and boxes once handled by legendary County Commissioners, Mayors, Burgesses, and School Directors, and a variety of scallywags are all carefully marked so that you can tell each apart from the other without straining your eyes. Do you know that there is even a half-eaten peanut roll on display which was supposedly left on the bench by the quarterback of the Pottsville Maroons during that championship game? After you promenade in the Easter Parade, why not stop in?

St. Patrick's Day

I will celebrate St. Patrick’s Day along with everyone else. I have a fondness for the Irish. The current Mrs. Trout is half-Irish for starters. I also love Irish music. I have downloaded so much U2, the O’Jays, and Sinead O’Connor, that I can hardly lift my MP3 player. I find this music so irresistible that my cell phone even rings to the harmonious melody of Donovan McNabb’s “Mellow Yellow.” I even coaxed Mammy Trout to audition for the local production of “Schuylkill Riverdance,” at the Sovereign Majestic Theatre. Sadly, she was could not keep up with the others. She will stick to making me scrapple in the kitchen.

I also admire the Irish contributions to our political process. Don’t you? Some of the Irish will tell you that they get into politics as it beats working. Well, I don’t blame them. Government pensions can’t be beat.

My favorite Celtic politician is Mayor McCheese. I said Celtic politician as no one is quite sure if Mayor McCheese was Scottish or Irish. His honor single-handedly got rid of the Hamburglar to the relief of the citizenry and is considered the Rudy Giuliani of McDonaldland. That’s what I like about him. Next to him I like the late Richard Daley of Chicago.

I am digressing as I really want to tell you why I celebrate St. Patrick’s Day.

Last summer, I had trouble with snakes in my backyard. The snakes slithered their way down Sharp Mountain and onto my property. The current Mrs. Trout stepped on one while hanging her Irish linens one sunny Monday afternoon. She dropped her clothespins in panic and then called the police. With the help of their sketch artist, the snake was identified as a garter snake. Although it was not the Anaconda she feared, she wanted the snakes out of our yard.
“What does my snake problem have to do with St. Patrick?” you may ask. Well, I had heard that St. Patrick was famous for driving the snakes out of Ireland. I then thought to myself “if he could drive the snakes out of an island, then I could drive them out of my yard.”

*

“Where would I drive them?” “How would I ever get them into my SUV?” Questions kept running through my mind.

I went to the Pottsville Library and read up on St. Patrick while other patrons played solitaire on the computers. I learned that Pat was born in Britain, the son of Roman official. His birth name was Maewyn Succat. I am glad that he changed his name, and I am sure thousands of youngsters named Patrick are also. At the age of sixteen, Irish pirates kidnapped him. There were no “amber alerts” or pictures on milk cartons in the Dark Ages. Life was cheap. As a result, he was kept as a slave for six years before fleeing and becoming a cleric. Later he returned to Ireland and converted the island to Christianity. While he did drive, his vehicle of choice was a chariot. Death occurred on March 17th, 493. Yes, March 17th is the anniversary of his death. I doubt that many realize this, as Patrick is largely overlooked on the anniversary of his death, pushed aside by the hoopla involving plastic green hats and beer.

As for the snakes, I learned that Patrick rang his bell and drove those serpents off the island and into the sea. Ireland now has no venomous snakes. Patrick is now considered the patron saint of ophidiophobics (those suffering from a fear of snakes) and also the patron saint of engineers. I don’t know why engineers, as trains had not been invented in his time. Not even steam locomotives.

I went home and tried ringing several different bells in my yard. No luck; the snakes remained. However, my yard became overrun with children looking for the Mister Softee ice cream truck. Now I was confronted with two types of unwanted pests.

A trip to Laudeman’s Pest Control did the trick. One problem was now solved. Now how do I get rid of those annoying children looking for ice cream?

I will go and watch the St. Patrick’s Day Parade from The Eagles Club and ponder a solution over a cold Yuengling beer and also raise my glass to a remarkable man - Maewyn Succat.

* cartoon courtesy of http://blog.siena.org/ a Catholic blog

presidential debate at the Majestic Theatre!!

The Sovereign Majestic Theatre, downtown Pottsville

(named after the bank whose stock has recently closed pitifully at $10.23/share)

I have a great suggestion for the Sovereign Majestic Theatre located in downtown Pottsville.

I propose that the theatre should be the site of a historic debate between the two remaining candidates in the Democratic presidential race. Yes, the theatre can sponsor a debate which will undoubtedly sell out quicker than the "Schuylkill River Dance" show of last St. Patty's Day.

A lively April debate can be held at a mutually agreeable time, say the opening day of trout season, to be covered live on WPPA, WPAM and T-109 as well as Comcast’s Channel 15 ("the Pottsville Station"). I suggest that the moderator be someone impartial, such as the Winter Carnival’s Master of Ceremonies, who has been grilling carnival contestants with tough questions for over 35 years. In my opinion he's the county's version of Tim Russert.

I would bet my last nickel that such an event would rival Kennedy’s appearance back in 1960 when he uttered his famous words, “Ich bin ein Pottsviller! Tear down this wall” in Garfield Square to hundreds of bewildered well-wishers before heading over to the city pool that bears his name for quick dip. Kennedy in Garfield Square, 1960

It is doubtful that I would ever be selected as a panelist at such a prestigious event, even though I am the brains behind the idea. However, I submit the following questions to be posed to the contestants, Senator Clinton and the new comer who can use some publicity around here. You know, Senator Obama (who the average county resident thinks is named after the largest city in Nebraska):

1. Who is your favorite Dorsey Brother and why? ( Note: I deliberately start out with an easy one to make them more feel more relaxed and comfortable).
2. Assuming you are elected president, what criteria will you establish for granting a presidential pardon? Will you ever consider a presidential pardon for a Koch Turkey Farm fowl at Thanksgiving time? If not, why not, as the people of the Lewistown Valley want to know?
3. You pride yourself as an environmentalist. Therefore, in our struggle against global warming, would you endorse the Kyoto Accord and totally ban jalapeño pierogies?
4. With gas prices spiraling towards the four dollar a gallon mark, what will you do to assist the Pottsville Cruise and make it more affordable for the average cruiser? And will personally buy a Cruise raffle ticket?
5. Dmitry Medvedev, as we all know, is the newly elected president of Russia. Can either of you Senators name the Mayor of Shenandoah and discuss how can the United States improve relations with that difficult Borough?
6. It had been asked in the 1992 election, “Boxers or briefs?” However a more important question was never asked, “Yuengling Premium or Yuengling Lager?”
7. Senator, would you be willing to look directly into the camera and, using simple and unequivocal language, give the people of the city your solemn pledge to restore the NFL 1926 championship to the Pottsville Maroons even if it requires unilateral military action?
8. What can the United States do to ensure that Santa Claus, the sovereign leader of the North Pole, delivers lumps of Pennsylvania anthracite coal to all of the bad children of the world every Christmas eve?
9. We have all heard your positions on NAFTA, but can you now elaborate your positions on ATEECO, SEDCO, PADCO, and REDCO?
10. What effect does global warming have on the future of the Greater Pottsville Winter Carnival? If global warming continues, do you actually believe that our grandchildren will be living in a time when the designation of “Queen of the Snows” is forced to re-titled “Queen of the Slush?”

basketball and soup

February and March are the months when all the tourists flood into Pottsville, and I don’t like it. For one thing, it is hard to cross Market Street carrying pepperoni pizzas with all the cars heading to and from Martz Hall. Yes, Martz Hall. It is basketball season you know. The Hall is the site of countless play-off games. Basketball is popular around here; so popular that some people’s skin actually turns orange and bumpy. People come here from all over eastern Pennsylvania to watch the games. On Feb 8th, the line of traffic was so heavy for the Pine Grove- Marian girls’ game and the Shamokin-North Schuylkill game my pepperoni pizzas got cold as I waited to cross the street. Luckily, in a few weeks it will all be over and these out-of-towners will be gone. Pottsville will get back to its sleepy self.

Not many of you realized that this is the city’s biggest tourist season. That‘s because we try to keep it quiet. Too much attention may get these visitors to stay awhile. You know, maybe they would want to get a bite to eat after the game if they had information on what’s available. If that happens, then that means the locals, including me, may have to wait longer to get served. That is intolerable. That is why there are banners on all of the entrances to the city proclaiming, “Welcome to Pottsville. Enjoy the Games and Hurry Home!”

Some people suggested that the city tap into these visitors with promotions –flyers could be given out to at the door with discount coupons to local restaurants and promoting other things in the area. They say that it could be a boost for the local economy. I think this is a terrible idea. These basketball games are for families, and families should go home and eat together, not roaming around our streets. Also, I like the peace and quiet of eating in a restaurant where I recognize every single face. Unfamiliar faces make me paranoid when I am dining.
By the way, my favorite food is soup; any kind of soup – gazpacho, cold beet borscht, bouillon, gumbo, consommé, bouillabaisse, porridge, broth, chowder, or even vichyssoise. If it’s not liquid, I don’t want it.

Not surprisingly, my favorite local restaurant is the Soup Kitchen on Mahantongo Street. It’s right across the street from the Yuengling Brewery, the biggest tourist attraction in the city. Sometimes the tourists leave the brewery, take photographs and then head over the Soup Kitchen for a bowl of the “soup de jour”. The Kitchen is the only eatery within walking distance. Yes, I know the Creamery is also across the street, but even if you could get inside the locked-up Yuengling dairy, you won’t find anything edible inside anymore, not even one stale ice cream cone. That is why I stick to soup.
Some people have suggested that having a restaurant or bistro near the Brewery would be good for both the local economy and the city image that is projected to the thousands of tourists visiting the Brewery. Again, I argued vehemently against that idea. Pottsville should be for Pottsvillians. These goody two-shoes can hand out packets of Sweet ‘n Low to the hungry tourists as they leave the Brewery if they are so worried about their hunger pains. That should be enough to tide them over until they get out of the city. Give me a break. I want to be left alone with my soup.

This weekend, before heading to a basketball game, I plan to dine alone at the Kitchen, I will crumble some soda crackers, and then slowly consume only the vowels in my alphabet soup. You know, A, E, I. O, and U; in that order. I will then ask for a doggy bag and carefully remove all of the consonants and take them with me to the game.

We are in the midst of March madness around here and everyone goes nuts.