March musings

With parades in both Pottsville and Girardville I am Celticly exhausted.
You have to admit it though; Girardville’s parade, although great, was not the same without Clinton marching.
Yes, I understand that both Hillary and Bill had busy calendar engagements. Hillary’s was with some foreign dignitary and Bill’s was with Miss March and Miss April, but why no Chelsea or Roger? The closest we got to a Clinton was listening to the rollicking bag pipe rendition of George Clinton’s “Nubian Nut” performed by the soulful Heckscherville Hiberianators.

Wanting to look fresh for the Girardville Parade, I decided to take my kilts (all soiled after the ten minute Pottsville parade and the ten hour Humane fire house extravaganza) to the cleaners in Schuylkill Haven.

Mammy stayed home and tried her best to recondition our plastic green hats.

Did you ever try getting dents out of plastic green hats? It is very, very difficult and usually you end up with noticeable, white creases, but Mammy has the magic touch to bring old plastic hats back to life.
I had trouble getting into Haven as it was St. Joseph’s Day, when the town celebrates the return of the geese to Stoyer’s Dam. Apparently the so-called “Miracle of the Geese” is the second biggest event in the town, only surpassed by the raucous Burro Day in late September, when the burros finally chase the birds away.
As the large birds wing their way back to their summer home in “the little borough that could,” the town takes on a fiesta flair and visitors from all over the county, from all walks of life, gather together to witness this marvelous aviary wonder.

Who can forget the romantic Pennsylvania Dutch song, “Wenn die Gänse zum Schuylkill Hafen zurückgehen?” It was #1 on WPPA’s Hit Parade back in the 1950s for eight consecutive weeks.
It was the first 45 rpm that I purchased; now looking over my stock portfolio it was the best investment I ever made.
Yes, the return of our fine feathery friends has captured the imagination of hundreds; giving us all goose bumps. When I am asked to give an analogy for the sheer excitement of watching the birds dive bomb into town, I can only compare it the tingling feeling that I get sitting through the last two rounds of the Spelling Bee.

Spell that t-i-n-g-l-i-n-g. tingling.

After dropping off my kilts at the cleaners I planned to immediately head down to Stoyer’s Dam but two things stopped me. I no longer had my protective green plastic hat which would shield me from the large goose droppings. Secondly, Mammy called and said that she could not salvage the plastic green hats despite the tedious hours she spent on the task.
We would have to properly dispose of the plastic green hats. I told her that I would hurry home and help her determine if the dented hats were #1 PET plastic or #2 HDPE plastic so that the hats could be properly picked up on Recycling Day.
So I never did get to see the geese arrive back in Schuylkill Haven, but for the life of me I could not get that song out of my head. All during the Girardville Parade, while I stood hatless in my clean, crisp highlander kilts, I was haunted by the melody of the birds drowning out the tedious marching bands.

“Wenn die Schwalben zu Schuylkill Hafen zurückkommen
That' s der Tag, den Sie versprachen, zu mir zurückzukommen,
als Sie flüsterten, ‘Abschied’, zu Schuylkill Hafen
Twas der Tag, den die Schwalbe heraus zum Meer flog…”

St. Patrick's Day

Saint Patrick’s Day is approaching and I will celebrate along with everyone else. I have a fondness for the Irish. The current Mrs. Trout is half-Irish for starters and we start each morning with a bowl of magically delicious Lucky Charms. I then shower with Irish Spring soap while listening to my favorite Irish musicians. Jim Morrison for instance. I have downloaded so much U2, the O’Jays, and Sinead O’Connor that I can hardly lift my MP3 anymore and

my cell phone rings to the harmonious melody of bagpipes. I even encouraged Mammy to audition for the local production of “Schuylkill Riverdance” which in now playing at The Santander (formerly Sovereign) Majestic Theatre. Sadly, she was not built for clog dancing and did not make the cut. She will stick to cooking scrapple which we have every morning with our Lucky Charms.
Then there are the entertainers such as Edgar Bergen and his sidekick, Charlie McCarthy, just to name but a few. I love them all.
I also admire the Irish contributions to our political process. For instance Mayor McCheese. I am not talking about former Scranton Mayor Jim McNulty, who is great on WYOU Sunday mornings. I am talking about the chief executive of McDonaldland. Does anyone know what happened to him? He cleaned up the streets of McDonaldland during his tenure and got rid of the Hamburglar. Maybe he could clean up Shenandoah.

I am also a fan of St. Patrick, the man and the legend, and know quite a bit about him. Let me share the information with you.
Last summer, I too had trouble with snakes in my backyard. Apparently a snake found its way down Sharp Mountain and onto my property. The snake became rather pesky and my old lady stepped on it while hanging the wash one sunny Monday afternoon. She immediately dropped her clothespins and notified the Pottsville police. With the help of their sketch artist, the snake was identified as a garter snake. Although it was not the Anaconda we feared, Mammy 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 and I thought to myself “if he could drive the snakes out of an island, then I could drive them out of my yard.”
“How did he get them in his car?” “Where did he drive them to?” “How would I ever get them into my SUV?” “Where would I go with them?” These were just a few of the questions that I had to answer.
I went to the Pottsville Library and checked out every book on St. Patrick and began reading. I found out that Pat was born in Britain, the son of a Roman official. His birth name was Maewyn Succat. I am glad that he changed his name, and I am sure the thousands of men named Patrick are grateful too. At the age of sixteen, Irish pirates kidnapped him. There were no “amber alerts” or photographs on milk cartons in the Fifth century. Life was cheap back then. He was kept as a slave for 6 years before fleeing and becoming a cleric in France. Later he returned to Ireland and converted the place to Christianity, driving everywhere to preach for thirty years. He did drive and is today known as the patron saint of Engineers. However his vehicle of choice was a chariot and not a locomotive, which had not been invented yet. His 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 leprechauns and green beer.
As for the snakes, I learned that it was in the Mountain Croagh Patrick supposedly rang his bell and drove those serpents off the island and into the sea. Ireland today has no venomous snakes whatsoever. So maybe it is true, there is a humane way to get rid of them.

I later tried several different bells in my yard without any success. Despite my ringing for hours, the garter snake remained and my yard became overrun with neighborhood children looking for the Mr. Softee ice cream truck. Now I was confronted with two types of unwanted pests.

"It is the east, and Joliett is the sun"

Looking for a romantic getaway that is not too far away? Why not Joliett, located in Porter Township? Most of you probably are unaware that this romantic rural community was named after the better half of those two famous ill-fated Shakespearian lovers featured in a recent Leonardo DiCaprio movie. I am talking about Romeo and Joliett and the village named after the latter is easy to get to. Just hop on your all terrain vehicle and head west when you leave Tremont.
Much of the film’s tragic love story takes place in the west end of Schuylkill County. The story centers on a feud between rival factions of one warring family. I think the feud has something to do with a Rumpf Match that went haywire. During this Rumpf Match, Romeo falls in love with Joliett, a fifteen year old second cousin which enrages the bartender, Escalus, who wants to hook-up with Joliett also.
What happens next is anyone’s guess, as the film is in authentic Pennsylvania Dutch and those English sub-titles move too fast for my nearsightedness, especially when multi-tasking with my buttered popcorn. In the end the tragic couple heads over to Hegins where Joliett is struck down by stray bullet by a participant in the annual shoot who mistakes her for a pigeon when her feet turn inward as she walks towards the funnel cake stand. Romeo then hooks up with Lady Capulet, the manager of the funnel cake stand, who had come to Joliett’s assistance. Romeo and Capulet live together happily for a few weeks, surviving on the profits from the funnel cake stand, her child support payments as well as Romeo’s black lung check. Meanwhile, the grief-stricken townspeople name a village after the fallen heroine.
So much for the story of Joliett.
I highly recommend a Valentine Weekend visit with your significant other to this quaint village. It will certainly get your heart pumping. Yes, you can stroll hand in hand at the edge of a scenic coal bank or illegal dumping site, or sip Porter Ale at the nearby Pick ‘n Shovel bistro, or take off your overalls and boots to soak in an ash tub layered with rose petals in one of the several bed and breakfasts.
Joliett and romance have been synonymous forever and you will discover why. You'll think for a minute that you've been caught in a time warp or you are on a movie set and that you and your love are the now stars of the show. Make sure to take lots of pictures to prove that you really were in Joliett.
If you are interested in a candlelight dinner for two (or three or four if you really want to spice things up) then Joliett is the place to dine, as it is world renowned for its appetizing tastes of Pennsylvania Dutch cuisine, such as sumptuous pig’s stomach finished off with lip smacking Shoofly pie desserts. Having a little wet bottom shoofly will certainly be appropriate to start off your Valentine’s Day evening.

Yes if you are in love (or maybe you just want the little lady to think that you are in love) then come to Joliett and you will go home with memories that will keep "that lovin feeling" alive for years to come. Picturesque Joliett is simply a delight; one of the most attractive towns that give you an instant vivacious feeling of love and romance – as if Cupid just hit you in the behind with one of his arrows. I guarantee you that just one visit to Joliett is a more powerful aphrodisiac than any of the drugs now on the market, with or without a prescription. In fact, if the sensation you get lasts for more than four hours, you should seek immediate medical attention to avoid long term injury.

Remember, the village of Joliett, nestled in the hills of Porter Township, is sure to have a lasting impression on you forever. It did for Mammy and me and someone we met online.

"Good Night,Good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow,

that I shall say good night till it be morrow. Now pass the shoofly pie."

- William Shakespeare, Romeo and Joliett, 2.2

Groundhog Day Truce

Extra! Extra! Read all about it!
Controller’s Office and County Commissioners Office called an unofficial truce on February 2nd!

Yes, on the dark, cold eve of Candlemas Day the chimes from the courthouse clock tower sounded in the City of Pottsville….something extraordinary and unexpected was about to occur. Employees of both the Schuylkill County Commissioners’ Office and the Controller’s Office spontaneously made peace, ceased hostilities and started celebrating. They visited each other through their trench tunnels, and exchanged cigarettes at the designated county smoking station. While at the smoking station the shivering employees stamped their feet in a vain attempt to keep warm and then headed inside to share the traditional holiday meal of Lebanon bologna, pig’s stomach, and chicken corn noodle soup at the Courthouse Canteen -all washed down with some fresh birch beer by the way.

Afterwards their jovial voices started to sing in harmony the traditional Ground Hog Day carols and songs.

“how much would would a wood chuck chuck if a wood chuck would chuck wood….”

At first it appeared that tensions would erupt as each side kept a shoofly pie within easy reach in case self-defense was necessary. Just a few days ago peaceful co-existence was unthinkable, but now it was reality. The employees from both offices gathered together laughing, sharing both Groundhog Day gifts and Pennsylvania rub-off lottery tickets, and exchanging the traditional Pennsylvania Dutch bawdy jokes.

The hostilities had been going on for years, under the Gary Hornberger administration and continuing unabated during the current Katner command. With so many years of warfare some were now calling this truce “the miracle in the trenches” and hailed it as a shining episode of sanity. Yes, the Groundhog Day’s magic that covered the county also enveloped these two adversarial offices. The friendly feelings were inspired not only by a strong desire for a lull in the fighting but for a desire to partake in the goodies that every Courthouse office shares openly on the joyous occasion of Groundhog’s Day.
Yes, the holiday began quietly with the furry marmot once again seeing his shadow. Six more weeks of winter should have dismayed everyone, but only a few court house employees actually threw themselves from the Clock tower; far less than the prior years.

Yes, for hours, throughout all of the colorfully decoratated court house offices, Groundhog songs were sung while funnel cake was shared. The stairway between the Controller’s Office and the Commissioners Office, long considered a ‘no man’s land” became something of a playground with the rousing chorus of employees all singing in harmony:

“Let the scientific fakirs gnash their teeth and stamp with rage-
Let astrologers with crystals wipe such nonsense from the page-
We hail the King of Prophets, who's the world's outstanding Sage-
TODAY THE GROUNDHOG COMES! Glory! Glory! to the Groundhog, Glory! Glory!
to the Groundhog, Glory! Glory!
to the Groundhog, TODAY THE PROPHET COMES!”


The truce lasted all day. It was considered by some to be just a blip - a temporary respite induced by the Candlemas season.
But in these trying times of uncertainty, it is comforting to cynics, such as me, to believe that employees of the rival offices could put aside their fear and loathing of one another and extend the hand of goodwill, peace, joy, love and Groundhog Day cheer.

“Oh why can't every day be like Groundhog Day

Why can't that feeling go on endlessly.

For if everyday could be just like Groundhog Day

What a wonderful world this would be.”

Gott segen eich.