Let the games begin!

I have been so busy training for the Summer Schuylkill Senior Olympics I was unable to post anything.  Training consumed all of my attention.  This year the games will being held in Beury’s Grove in Barry Township, just northwest of Minersville. It starts in mid-August. Much of my training occurred in and around Minersville at the various ethnic picnics.  I am participating in the Pysanky egg roll completion for the first time.  This requires me to train for several hours on a stability ball.  Such training works my abdominals, obliques and core, and helps to improve my overall balance and coordination.  I plan to win the gold. I won gold in the Greco-Roman Rumpsch match at the last games held in Diener’s Hill.  It will be Pine Grove’s first gold in Pysanky egg rolling. I will make my people proud. I will not be alone as Mammy Trout will compete for Ravine in the ten yard dash and the Jumping to conclusions competition.   We both intend to come home with the gold. Gold to us is the ultimate aphrodisiac. 

Beury’s Grove is an ideal spot for the Senior Olympics. It has water first of all.  The Buckhorn Creek, named after a bar in St. Clair, is what I am talking about. In the 1920s a twelve acre man-made lake was created, setting off a storm of controversy with local fundamentalists who disapproved of men making lakes. Lake-making should be left to God or at least to men with front-end loaders.  They disapproved even more when women made lakes. In any event the lake was completed and it became a well-known tourist attraction. It is called Moon Lake named after the Who’s late drummer.

Beury’s Grove gaining the right to host the Olympics was not easy. It took a lot of finagling, believe me.  Other contenders included Pottsville, Duncott and McAdoo.  McAdoo was rejected due to the high altitude. Duncott was rejected for obvious reasons.   Pottsville was aggressive in its pursuit of hosting the games. It did offer a beautiful Olympic size pool and other sports facilities.  Barefield Development even promised more housing for the participants and to rebuild the diving tower at the pool which would renamed after any man the Committee selected from the St. Patrick’s Church Directory. In the end Buery’s Grove got the spot basically due to my expertise finagling.

Lake Wynonah also had submitted a bid and it was almost successful. Apparently the controversy over the Indian maiden statue led to its rejection.  That statue has been called by some “a mannequin from the old Pomeroy’s Department Store and not really a statue” and others say she is not Indian at all but “native American.”  Others say she is a poor depiction of a maiden as a true maiden would never spend all of her nights on a highway populated by truckers.  The Schuylkill Senior Olympics Committee (SSOC) decided to stay clear of the controversy and Lake Wynonah ultimately pulled its bid from consideration.  

The opening ceremonies will certainly not be as flashy as the ceremonies at the “other Olympics” in London where the torch was carried into the stadium by the likes of Sir Elton John, Sir Ozzie Ozborne Sir Keith Richards and Sir Johnny Rotten.  The identities of those who are to carry the torch in the make-shift stadium at “the Grove” still remains a mystery.  The money, however, is on Sir Rocking Horse Charlie. 

 In any event, the anticipation is building for this magical event that occurs only once every four years; bringing together the sour cream of the crop of aging county athletes who will represent every single municipality in the county, starting with Altamont and ending with Weishample. Yorkville’s athletes will march under the flag of Pottsville, of course.  This year, Renninger’s Haven has been recognized as a separate entity and its athletes have been recruited from the funnel cake and French frie stands inside the Market to participate.  This has caused North Manheim Township to lodge a protest. 

 Yes, the senior Olympics is not complete without its controversies. To the victor belongs the spoils.

If large sodas are outlawed, only outlaws will have large sodas

I understand that there is a movement to ban the sale and possession of large containers of sodas and other soft drinks just over the state border in New York.   You say that it should not concern us as New York is so far away.  Well I remember as a child when fireworks were first banned in New York.  It did not take long for that ban to come to us.  So much for the Second Amendment. Now instead of roman candles we must entertain ourselves with sparklers and those snakes that stain your sidewalks.

For some reason or another, these misguided activists are concerned over the increase in obesity.  I oppose such a ban. If ever I am asked my opinion on the so-called obesity epidemic, I say “bring it on.” 

 For years we have seen many of our youngsters graduate and leave Schuylkill County, never to return, except for perhaps an occasional visit to attend the Pigeon Shoot, a grandparent’s funeral, or the American Way Fair (not necessarily in that order).  The effect of this migration has been an obvious dwindling in the population.  Right now there are more Whooping Cranes in Mount Carbon than there are people. Just think about that for a minute or two.  Even with such attempts to increase the population with such gimmicks as the newspaper’s annual New Year Baby Contest or the City’s Midnight Baby Parade, the population keeps decreasing.  

Therefore, if our population cannot increase, we need to enlarge our remaining citizenry to fill up the empty space that surrounds us.  I will give you an example. Growing up I used to ride the East Penn buses and all the seats would be filled. Now, in 2012, with the population decrease, the buses have many empty seats.  If we cannot get extra passengers, then it makes sense to enlarge the behind size of the average rider.  Voila. The buses will be filled again. Problem solved.  The same goes with taking the elevator up to the top of the Thompson Building. At one time ten would cram into the elevator before the elevator operator would take off as ten was the maximum capacity. Now one has to wait for an hour or so before twelve people appear. If we can fatten up the population, then we can get the elevator to be filled to capacity after only two or three people get on board. Again, another problem solved.

Schuylkill County has always had a love affair with overeating.  Maybe it is due to our collective depression and low self-esteem.  Over-eating is the perfect solution to our stress, our depression, our loneliness, our fear, and our anxiety. And I thank God for that. Manna from heaven. 

Remember that over-eating is part of our culture, our history. Isn’t Schuylkill County the birthplace of the “all you can eat Scrapple Breakfast Buffet?”  Didn’t that restaurant near Garfield Square, Phase II, get a place in the Guinness Book of World Records for largest amount of French fries ever served on one plate?  If you say no, then I was lied to all of my life which will only make me more depressed, stressed out, and anxious. 

Folks, we need to fatten the population up at the earliest age possible.  I want our toddlers to resemble hams. All of them. Not just a few. I want baby fat to remain for life. I want Jellyroll.
 If I ever get to be County Commissioner I would have every Thursday be a trick or treat night for starters. I would rename JFK Pool after Ted Kennedy.

Then I would use Amsterdam as a model to transform the County into a tourist magnet.  Just as Amsterdam’s lenient drug laws attract tourists, Schuylkill County could increase the portions of every meal and every beverage. New Yorkers would flock to Schuylkill County seeking out 32 oz birch beer sodas, baconburgers, two footlong hoagies, and unlimited amounts of pure transfat and lard.  Yuengling Dairy could reopen once again and increase its fat content to levels never dreamed of.   Our downtowns would be filled with restaurants.

 Our streets would be filled again, even if only a few people are waddling along. 

This is an outrage

It certainly is.  I remember fighting in the trenches to support the county code’s commissioner-style form of government against the rebels who proposed a change to home rule.  I remember defending the jury commissioners against the onslaught of criticism that they did nothing but cost the county tens of thousands of dollars per year. 

 It was guarding them during those turbulent years that I learned how to meditate and understand what the sound of one hand clapping. ( I will let you in on a secret, it sounds like the Mr. Softee truck coming down East Arch Street really fast).   It was then that I realized the importance of doing nothing. Watching those two sages accomplish nothing brought me enlightenment tenfold for which I am eternally grateful.

Now my rotary phone is ringing off the hook with the bad news.  On May 2^nd, a day that will live in infamy, our county commissioners abolished the elected positions of jury commissioners, with a stroke of a pen. Not a whimper from the old guard. It reminded me of the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact of 1939, Yes, it is a bad day in our county’s history.

                                               

I realized that something was wrong when the jury commissioners were beckoned to the Courthouse with the ploy to participate in the Day of Prayer festivities. Such participation would be awkward as it would break their vows of doing nothing. Fearing that they were in danger and could be seized, I contacted them at their headquarters, a mysterious underground office that has always remained hidden from the view of the public.  I told them they were in danger and had to get up off their bean bag chairs and leave at once.

Quickly the two  disguised themselves, donning soiled baseball caps, frayed tee shirts and sweatpants, holding  ice tea cartons, voided powerball tickets and a slices of Roma Pizza, so as to blend in with the ordinary Schuylkill Countians. With an unexpected thunderstorm storm providing cover, the beleaguered twosome walked out to the streets totally unrecognized. The Jury Commissioners and their staff quickly shuffled towards Sharp Mountain, with the only delay being for the Walk sign to appear at the corner of Centre and Mahantongo Streets.  They began had begun their long trek to anticipated freedom in Northumberland County. 
This occurred just in the nick of time as the deputy sheriffs, county detectives, Pottsville Police and School Crossing Guards had just surrounded the hidden office complex where the jury commissioners peacefully did nothing for decades. 

 It was two days before the County Commissioners were advised that the jury commissioners had eluded capture after a thorough search of the headquarters.  Even with the prayer to St. Anthony, during the National Prayer Day festivities, the jury commissioners still could not be found. However the deputies managed to wrestle and confiscate the jury commissioners’ Wheel as well as apprehend six slices of cold Roma Pizza which they dutifully consumed.

For the unenlightened, the Jury Commissioner Wheel can be compared to the Ark of the Covenant and is revered by the stalwarts who believe that the County Code is sacred and should never be tampered with.  Now this hallowed Wheel is in the possession of the County Commissioners and its fate is unknown. Some say that it will be given to the Area Agency of Aging to be used for bingo at the Downtown Senior Citizens Center or at a stand at the American Way Fair. Others say that it must be destroyed so as to erase any reason for the Jury Commissioners supporters to rise up and restore the Jury Commissioners to their rightful seats of power. Only time will tell.

 After trekking nearly forty-eight hours, the Jury Commissioners and their party reached the Northumberland County border and stopped at the Dharamshala Trailer Park on Main Street in Herdon, where humanitarian sanctuary was offered.  This granting of asylum has touched off a major diplomatic firestorm between the two counties, with ambassadors being recalled.  

 For now, the Schuylkill County jury commissioners are remaining faithful to the oath they took after being duly elected to do absolutely nothing.  The mobile home (whose specific lot number will remain anonymous so not as to alert the police) is now the Jury Commissioners' Office-In-Exile-On-Main Street, where the two remain faithful to the oath they took after being elected by we, the people.  At this moment they are in their trailer doing nothing as they had done for decades.  In support of the Jury Commissioners, during the week of May 11^th people are asked to please wear the color purple.

                                             

the Jimmy Buffet House in North Manheim Township

I recently attended the County symposium on the causes of the warm winter we just experienced. It was held at the Pottsville Planetarium and the science community was there in full force, setting forth plausible explanations.

Obviously some believed it was due to the groundhog prediction, others believed it was caused by the elderly population going overboard on Hoody Hoo Day and pushed for a ordinance banning the practice of Hoody Hooism, and still others believed the temperature increased solely due to the proliferation of Zumba lessons throughout the area. The end result was absolutely no consensus and a fight soon erupted over which irish democrat the Planetarium should be named after .

Afterwards a group of us headed over to the newest entertainment establishment in the county. You know, the one devoted to Jimmy Buffet. It is located in North Manheim Township along Route 61 not far from the legendary Spa 61. It’s called the Buffet House and should be a major destination for Hawaiian-shirt-wearing aging yuppies on their way to or from Cabela’s. In fact there is plenty of parking for their Escalades and BMWs.

When we arrived I noticed the large grand opening sign in the front. I felt welcomed and at ease until one member of our group started to complain as he thought the place was devoted to Warren Buffet. I told him “No way, Jose” and we headed towards the entrance.

I think the owners of the place were expecting large crowds of Jimmy Buffet devotees (who are referred to as Juggalos) as a metal fence encircled the premises to keep the crowds at bay.

Before we entered I went into a trance-like flashback, remembering my visits to this location many, many years ago. This was the place that I first laid eyes on Mammy; she was doing the Hustle, all dressed up in her silver polyester outfit. That was the 70s. The rest is history. The dancehall was known to all then as “the Dusselfink” during those Mad Men years, when Willard and Cook ruled the County and everyone drank hi-balls, ate pop rocks, and smoked cigarettes openly and in your face. And of course everyone danced. Some called it a Wonderland while others called it a Pennsylvania Dutch Studio 54. We just called it ‘Das Fink’ where Lounge Music reigned supreme.

When I snapped out of my trance, we were already inside the Buffet House. It was quite rustic, but it had to be, as it was to convey the let’s pretend we are Castaways feelings that Jimmy Buffet exudes. We had no problem getting a seat as we were the only ones there. After about ten minutes I looked around. Not only were there no other patrons, there were no hosts or hostesses. I had my mind set on ordering the special that was advertised on the sign. Then I remembered it was a Monday and many restaurants were closed on Mondays, so we got up and left.

Someone in the SUV said it reminded him of a burned-out restaurant, like the old Manheim Diner, a pile of charred rubble that sat for years just a mile south of the Jimmy Buffet House. While he missed that old pile of charred pile of rubble, this new one was even better. It will be the new focal point of North Manheim Township. The Township was always proud to show off a burned out restaurant to passerbys.

We were still hungry and we wanted cheeseburgers in paradise, so we headed north to Margarita...I mean...Pottsville and stopped in at the Eagles Club. I switched shirts before we entered as the Hawaiian shirt I had on was inappropriate attire at the Eagles which has a very strict dress code. We would go the Buffet House another day. It will be there for years to come.