Hunkered Down: COVID-19 special edition

                                              Hunkered Down 

I’ve been shut out of the Historical Society for days now.  No, my membership did not lapse.  I’ve been shut out as a result of the virus attack.  You know, the COVID-19 virus.  The first thing I will do when it reopens is to suggest to the staff that they eliminate any references to geographic or ethnic adjectives on past pandemics.  You know, “Spanish” flu is an insulting term to those of Hispanic origin. Also, many get the name confused with Spanish fly.   Likewise using the term “German” measles caused sauerkraut sales to plummet at Renninger's Market.  MERS is insulting to those living in the Middle East and Lyme disease is insulting to those from Connecticut.  Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever places a stigma on anyone owning a John Denver record.  I own one, it’s called “Please Daddy (Don’t Get Drunk on Christmas)."  Its playing right now as you read this.  Take a listen: THE BEST CHRISTMAS SONG EVER WRITTEN.

Meanwhile, I am hunkered down in my fallout shelter that my family dug in the early 1960s.  I am trying to pass the time.  We stored away lots of food and vital supplies that have been untouched for years; for instance cases of Mount Carbon Bavarian beer, beer bologna and Mootz chocolates.  Did you know that every Mootz peanut roll has exactly 38 small pieces of peanut attached? Probably not.  However, I have lots of time on my hands now.  Also, you probably did not know that Necho Allen, the discoverer of anthracite coal, also created the recipe for coal candy.  I plan to take the tiny metal buckets that held its precious cargo to the recycling center once the coast is clear.  For now I use them as ash trays. Luckily I stored cartons of cigarettes away and I don't have to read the stupid Surgeon General Warnings on them.   

Looking around the shelter, I have quite a collection of county memorabilia.  Did you know that the first eye chart in the county used Pennsylvania Dutch colorful lettering, but which spelled out an off-color word?  I have one of those.  Its hanging on my fallout shelter wall.  I read it aloud now and Mammie gets a chuckle out of it.  We are a safe six feet distance from each other.  Coincidentally that is the same distance we’ve been keeping for the past twenty years. 

I have many old newspapers and magazines down here that I dusted off that relate to Schuylkill County.  Back in 1962, the headline of the Pottsville Republican was that the borough of Mount Carbon was considering merging with Roadside America.  Luckily, that never happened.  Roadside America is now gone but, thank God, we still are blessed with Mount Carbon. 

I dusted off an old mechanical science book on the first elevator installed in the Thompson Building.  Astonishingly, for years it only went up.  Another rare book I have down here is on the secret society known as “the Mollie Maguires.”  Most people don’t realize that the original name was going to be “the Mary Margaret Maguires,” but the 3M Company threatened a lawsuit. 

Mamie is reading an old newspaper from the early 1960’s with an in-depth investigative report on superior court Judge G. Harold Watkins.  She was surprised to learn that his favorite Disney character was really Donald Duck.  That blew my mind!  Sadly, the press doesn’t do investigative reporting anymore.  In the same issue there is an interesting  historical article on the 1898 Spelling Bee when it was raided by the Pottsville vice squad after the word petticoat was said aloud to a young female contestant. 

So much time on my hands, with this pandemic.  Luckily for the county this disease was called the coronavirus and not the yuenglingvirus. Then we would be up the creek without a paddle. I know and I pray that we will recover and Schuylkill County economically will get back on its knees where it was before the outbreak.

Now back to my old newspapers and magazines. I am reading that the biggest fear that county residents had years ago, was not about catching a virus, but rather getting accousted by Vulcans trying to sell them Winter Carnival Buttons.  

                                    My times have changed.  

Mount Carbon: today and yesterday

The relentless demands placed upon the mayor of Mount Carbon to release his birth certificate are placing the tiny hamlet of Mount Carbon in the spotlight this election season. This so-called birther movement insists that ‘his honor’ is not the youngest head of the tiny community as publicized; they believe that there were several former Mount Carbon mayors younger – one as young as seven.
So here is a quick look at the history of Mount Carbon – often confused with Mount Olympus, Mount Rushmore and Port Carbon.

Mount Carbon, the mystical, elven fishing village, is well-hidden in the moorlands and foothills of the Sharp Mountain, somewhere between Greater Pottsville and the steep-walled valley of Outer Pottsville (the so-called hill of the forests). It is situated on rising ground behind the hythe, or small landing, on the west bank of the Schuylkill River. It is sometimes referred to as a kingdom under the mountain.
At one time the village also encompassed the east bank of the river. The boggy nature of that land made for above-ground habitation rather than the traditional hobbit-holes commonly found elsewhere in Mount Carbon.

After the invasion of 473 by a horde of Winter Carnival Vulcans this eastern settlement was destroyed, conquered and replaced by the Greater Pottsville Sewer Authority. This area still remains a sewer spot today. In 510 a wall was then built around the village, with the help of the dwarves of the nearby glittering caves, preventing further pillage and looting. Remnants of the wall are still visible to passer-bys today, especially those frequenting Julian’s Café.

Mount Carbon has become synonymous with an earthly utopia – a happy land, isolated from most of the world, reachable primarily by canal boat - a place of peace and tranquility. It has a human population of approximately eighty, an undetermined number of Sindarin elves, hobbits and gnomes, fifteen dogs, eight cats, and two finches and one bog turtle.

It was founded as far back as the end of the First Age, sometime during the Years of the Trees when the Dwarf Fathers awoke from beneath Sharp Mountain. The origins of its inhabitants are obscure, but it believed they were pre-Númenóreans. The villagers maintain a long-lasting friendship with the trolls and the mountain people of North Manheim, a nearby township, or shire, ever since the peace treaty of 947.

Originally the head of state was the king who exercised power over the original inhabitants, with the assistance of a tribal council. Now the leader is to be elected by the populace, with the king remaining only a figurehead who officiates at the monthly firehouse’s 80-20 drawings. The royal standard of Mount Carbon still remains an image of a white tree in blossom upon sable field, surrounded by seven Bavarian beer caps and surmounted by a halibut.

Before the time that the girls gone wild invaded Goodfellas and before the war of the wrath, the village was rumored to be covered with the pearls, opals and East Penn bus tokens that the elves found in the flowing Schuylkill River, apparently tossed overboard by careless passengers on the canal boats travelling between Pottsville and Philadelphia that carried high rolling gamblers and floozies, not necessarily in that order.

On the site of the present day Pottsville Pizzeria was located a famed inn - The Prancing Pony - which was visited by travelers from all parts of the world and elsewhere. It was the chief edifice within the village, built along the great road, or Centre Turnpike. It had fine Bavarian Lord Salisbury Ale. It is where the art of smoking pipeweed began.

When the canal boats ceased to run, the shipbuilding stopped and the docks at its port fell into decay and the Prancing Pony was demolished. The village had been dependent upon the River for contact with the outside world. It was the major crossroad due to its location on a major travel route. With the canal not to reopen for at least another ten years, its major industries remain saloons, pizza, hoagies and fresh fish (halibut).

Forest Hills

Forest Hills was created in the early 1960s when Pottsville wanted more room for the expansion of public housing and to recreate itself. A relocation and movement of the city’s middle class was determined as the best way to accomplish this goal. This resettlement program, freeing the center city of the middle class, is referred to in the city’s history as 'the Trail of Tears'. It was also during this period that Penn State Schuylkill was told to leave the city.
This project did not occur without a hitch as Forest Hills is cut off from the rest of the city by the borough of Mount Carbon. You see, Forest Hills is not joined to the rest of Pottsville; its sort of like Alaska. Alaska is cut off by Canada for those of you geographically illiterate.
Study a map of the area carefully (Schuylkill County, not Alaska); use a microscope if necessary. A tiny independent governmental entity named “Mount Carbon” actually exists and splits Pottsville into two. I swear to this upon my grandmother’s grave.

Mount Carbon has often been referred to as the Lichtenstein of Schuylkill County, in that it is a small, mountainous tax haven, having more businesses than residents. It is sometimes affectionately called “Tiny Town.”
The population of Mount Carbon is difficult to determine as some statistics include patrons of the local taverns who stay too long, those buried in the cemeteries, and the lobsters in the seafood store.

The road from Pottsville Proper to Forest Hills traverses Mount Carbon and this ticked off Mount Carbonites, who were envious of the tax base, creating a crisis. It appears that Pottsville, Mount Carbon and North Manheim Township all claimed parts of the settled territory.
Forest Hills was to be a middle-class residential oasis, devoid of any commercial buildings or eating establishments. Yep, no soup kitchens, no tattoo parlors, no nothing. Zippo. Therefore, the residents were dependent on Mount Carbon for pizza, hoagies, chips, seafood, and beer.
Mount Carbon began to build a wall around Forest Hills and also started a blockade. In response, city officials organized a helicopter mission to carry the daily necessities of life as mentioned to the citizens of Forest Hills. Likewise, Forest Hillites dug tunnels to get to Goodfella’s and Julian’s taverns and bring back snack foods as well as companionship. Some of the tunnels are still visible today.
The effort was clearly succeeding and by April of the following year the Mount Carbon officials capitulated when Mayor Stephenson gave his stirring “tear down this wall” speech and the isolation of Mount Carbon ended. Soon travel between Forest Hills and the rest of the world resumed once again.
A peace treaty was soon signed between Tiny Town, the Township and Pottsville which allowed one privately owned road to be maintained through Mount Carbon without the borough having to pay one red cent for any expenses. North Manheim Township was given control over much of the more ritzy section of Forest Hills.

The Tiny Town treasurer emptied the paper bag which contained all of the borough’s revenue onto the table, totaling $335.27 cash, three “free glass of beer” tokens from Goodfellas, two 10% discount coupons from Adelphia’s, and two Winter Carnival buttons. All of this revenue was already was earmarked for other borough projects. There was nothing left for road repairs.
Eighteen people joined hands in one human chain that stretched from one end of the borough to the other, raising nearly $42.50 towards a fund to maintain the road. This was called “Hands Across Mount Carbon” and was filmed and put to music. Alas, the money raised was not enough.
Luckily, there is discussion of the City of Pottsville pledging city tax dollars to perpetually maintain the private road through Mount Carbon as a form of restitution to those middle class residents forced to leave the city during the Trail of Tears period.
I am not sure who pays for the road maintenance of the ritzy section in North Manheim Township. I probably would guess Pottsville.

population increase

I read in the paper that Schuylkill County’s population has finally increased after a steady decline since 1930. The paper credited “fewer deaths and more births.”

Well I am certainly doing my part by staying alive. I have eliminated the cheese from all of my Big Macs and Double bacon burgers. And as for tobacco, while it is healthier than crack, let’s face it, it cannot be considered a health food. That is why I have cut down to one pack of Camels a day.
There are also safety changes that I integrated into my lifestyle. I now have a hands-free cell phone in my SUV. Now I don’t have to be distracted with the phone and I can concentrate on my driving and changing discs in the DVD player while I am on Route 61.

My new motto is “One hand on the wheel, the other on my Fast Forward button.”
My drinking and driving habits have also changed. With gas now costing $4 a gallon, it is cheaper to drink than to drive. So I drive less and drink more, pocketing the change, laughing all the way to the bank.
With these lifestyle changes I hope to last to a extremely old age lingering, forgotten and alone, in a bed; helping to keep our county’s population stable. I now have a living will that requests that I be kept alive by any means necessary and that, if possible, I be transported to Mount Carbon so that I can help keep that town’s numbers up even while comatose.

We also need to thank our local prisons for helping to keep the population up. We not only have the County jail in Pottsville but two state correction facilities north of the mountain, and a federal prison in Minersville. Hopefully more human behavior and activities will become illegal in the future so that additions can be built onto these facilities to make room for the next generation of criminal and increasing the county’s numbers to boot.
I am not sure how many residents are at these facilities, but I would bet that once released most inmates would leave the county. Therefore we should all write to the Pardon or Parole Board objecting to any type of early release until the next census is taken, lest our numbers decrease.
I understand that many girlfriends of prisoners with their children already relocate to the area temporarily to be close by. This should be a signal to the Chamber of Commerce to begin a massive “in-big-house” promotion to retain these mostly young people from leaving the area.

Lastly, the paper failed to give due credit to the humungous rise in illegitimacy in the county. We need to thank these young women for doing their part to keep the population numbers up. If a young girl had to wait until she married and was financially able to support a child, the number of births would be dramatically down. If it wasn’t for these frisky youngsters, Schuylkill County could face extinction, just like the Dodo Bird. That is why I am such a big supporter of the New Year Baby Contest, middle school baby showers, Eighth grade proms and slutty clothes for pre-teens. I say, get the youngsters interested in procreating as early as possible. Entice them with prizes and photo ops in the newspaper to keep our county’s numbers up. Some naysayers argue that I am foolish for advocating such a policy. They claim “young girls are ready or able to properly care for a baby.” I reply with one word, Hogwash! That is what social workers, foster parents, food stamps, and the Women’s Shelter are for. At next year’s Pottsville May Fair I plan to sell five inch, yellow rear car window signs that proclaims “bastard on board” as well as bumper stickers that read: "Honk if you're a bastard" and donate all profits to the winner of the New Year Baby Contest provided the baby’s parents are not married (to one another). Will you buy one to help keep the population numbers up?

Remember when it comes to population, its quantity, not quality.