Splendiferous! Your work has always served as a wonderful antidote to the media’s never ending celebration of the macabre. My guess is you would have preferred to hang out with the gravediggers rather than obsess about the slings and arrows of outrageous fortunes.
You omitted Pottsville and Pottstown, both founded by John Potts, but he burried in Pottsville. Some claim he also founded Chambersburg. Lancaster County also has some interesting place names such as Intercourse and Bird in Hand.
Maybe we should take a page from Larry Siegel, the great comedy writer and satirist, who way back in 1961 figured out how to tell a story of “despair, death, destruction, division, and danger” —the story of Hamlet, in fact—so that even Dick and Jane (and any other first grader) could enjoy it. Here’s how it ends:
On the way he meets a man.
"Where are you going?" asks the man.
"I am going to find Uncle Claudius" says Hamlet.
"Oh, NOOOO. I am Laertes," says the man. Let us draw our swords. Let us duel."
"I don't think I am going to find Uncle Claudius," says Hamlet.
See Hamlet and Laertes duel.
See Laertes stab Hamlet.
See Hamlet stab Laertes.
See Hamlet's mother drink poison.
See Hamlet stab King Claudius.
See everybody wounded and bleeding and dying and dead.
What fun they are having.
Wouldn't you like to play like that?
I’m sure Larry would have a field day with the cruise ship story!
So delighted to know you share an appreciation for Lancaster. My sister has the rare privilege of living among the Amish and next to a large Amish farm.
Getting to know the family, being invited to dinner served by lantern light, and watching the matriarch prepare a batch of popcorn in her huge cast iron skillet for my children are all cherished memories.
The very best piece of Amish wisdom I have carried with me, is the idea that memories are made with the senses and stored forever in memory to be shared and cherished - there is never a need for a photograph...
I lived in Allentown PA for 3 years and picked up a lot of Lehigh Valley lore. Mauch Chunk is Delaware Indian for Bear something (used to know). We also had a house in nearby Macungie which is Delaware for Bear Swamp. Jum Thorp, the great Indian athlete was from Mauch Chunk so when they got his body and built a monument they decided to rename the town, hoping attract tourists. They never came so critics said, "All we got out of this was a dead Indian".
Life is horrible and magnificent all at once. My Puerto Rican grandmother worked for a wealthy white family when she came here, and they would randomly hit her with pots or whatever was handy and scream at her. I didn’t know her then. I only knew her when she owned a soda fountain shop in Freeport on Long Island. We’d visit her there sometimes and she made us the best cheeseburgers and root beer floats. After that she moved to Miami and kept bee hives. She had terrible arthritis in her knees and she would scoop up a bunch of bees in a jar, shake it until they were really mad and then hold the jar over her knees, they would sting her and it brought her relief. She was in the hospital for something fairly insignificant and the doctors recommended knee replacement surgery. She agreed and died of a heart attack days after the surgery. It was only recently that it was determined that bee venom proves effective with people who have arthritis.
Her second husband was a short man with a limp that was the result of a motorcycle accident. His fingernails were always dirty and he smelled like motor oil. Her first husband, my grandfather who I never knew, died of a heroin overdose on a bus headed to Mexico where he was born. My mother was young, and he would shower her with hundred dollar bills but he also abused her and her brother. On the day of her high school graduation he showed up high and started screaming her name. Right before he got on that bus not long afterward, she said that she wished he was dead, and he ended up dying on the bus.
My grandmother was a strong woman and she loved me and my sisters so much. She always sang when she cooked the arroz con pollo that filled her house with such a wonderful, familiar smell, the same smell that fills my house now when I cook for friends. I was beaten by my mother many times, but it doesn’t matter. I sing when I make my grandmother’s arroz con pollo just like she did when she cooked it.
Life is both horrible and magnificent all at once. My grandmother knew it, I know it, and we both chose to sing while we cooked. Chose being the operative word here. We chose joy over tragedy.
Pretending to focus on the positive while banging loudly on the pots and pans and yelling about how much you dislike the negative really isn’t focusing on the positive, is it?
True optimism requires a modicum of delusion as well as a dose of of obstinance but it pays huge dividends over the course of a lifetime. I know you’ve got it in you, Sir.
Sorry, no severely bummed, that we couldn't afford to see you here in Lancaster. Small consolation is our renovated kitchen and the cheery memories of hearing you at Hershey and Wolf Trap. Maybe next time! And loved your PA place observations as a proud Pennsyltuckian. 😆 Also, I'm German mostly, non-Amish, and more of a high church Calvinist. 😎
My husband, whose parents were both from Glen Rock, PA, near York, also has mostly German ancestry except for 3x great-grandparents who were from England and Ireland. The family lore says that the English guy went to Ireland from England to escape having to fight in what we call the American Revolution and married an Irish girl. They emigrated to PA and their children and grandchildren all married people with PA "Dutch" ancestry.
His name is Alan and he once received a letter addressed to Ellen. Like me, he often gets mail with two "Ls" in his first name. My mother was mostly French and I was in college when the Beatles' song came out, so I have the traditional French spelling, but without the ` on the first e. My name is also an Italian man's name, but so far I have only found one man in Italy with the identical first and last names, and nobody yet in the US.
California --in which is located California University-- and Indiana (the hometown of Jimmy Stewart) --in which is located The University of Indiana.
(Those who look closely will note the amusing coincident that the names of each of these centers of higher learning are the “opposite” of their better known sibling institutions: that is, the University of California, and Indiana University.)
You got it wrong. It's not Blue Bell. It's Blue Ball. Then ther is Intercourse, Bird-in-hand, Reamstown, Smoketown, Beartown and Goodville, all in Lancaster Co. I know, 'cause I used to ride that train home from college in Lancaster - sixty-five years ago. Instead of the train, you should have taken a ride home in an Amish buggy. The Amish buggies still ride the roads - occasionally fatally.
Mr. Keillor, This is a pleasant observational and philosophical essay today. It is nice that you’ve survived into your eighties and have some time to reflect and offer your thoughts in humorous fashion. Take care of yourself and try not to fall down.
Splendiferous! Your work has always served as a wonderful antidote to the media’s never ending celebration of the macabre. My guess is you would have preferred to hang out with the gravediggers rather than obsess about the slings and arrows of outrageous fortunes.
Yeah, right.
You omitted Pottsville and Pottstown, both founded by John Potts, but he burried in Pottsville. Some claim he also founded Chambersburg. Lancaster County also has some interesting place names such as Intercourse and Bird in Hand.
We are all lucky to have you writing, singing, sharing.
Maybe we should take a page from Larry Siegel, the great comedy writer and satirist, who way back in 1961 figured out how to tell a story of “despair, death, destruction, division, and danger” —the story of Hamlet, in fact—so that even Dick and Jane (and any other first grader) could enjoy it. Here’s how it ends:
On the way he meets a man.
"Where are you going?" asks the man.
"I am going to find Uncle Claudius" says Hamlet.
"Oh, NOOOO. I am Laertes," says the man. Let us draw our swords. Let us duel."
"I don't think I am going to find Uncle Claudius," says Hamlet.
See Hamlet and Laertes duel.
See Laertes stab Hamlet.
See Hamlet stab Laertes.
See Hamlet's mother drink poison.
See Hamlet stab King Claudius.
See everybody wounded and bleeding and dying and dead.
What fun they are having.
Wouldn't you like to play like that?
I’m sure Larry would have a field day with the cruise ship story!
So delighted to know you share an appreciation for Lancaster. My sister has the rare privilege of living among the Amish and next to a large Amish farm.
Getting to know the family, being invited to dinner served by lantern light, and watching the matriarch prepare a batch of popcorn in her huge cast iron skillet for my children are all cherished memories.
The very best piece of Amish wisdom I have carried with me, is the idea that memories are made with the senses and stored forever in memory to be shared and cherished - there is never a need for a photograph...
There is never a need for a photograph
Love him. Thank you.
Garrison,
Did you know that Jim Thorpe, PA, used to be Mauch Chunk? Don't ask me why!
I lived in Allentown PA for 3 years and picked up a lot of Lehigh Valley lore. Mauch Chunk is Delaware Indian for Bear something (used to know). We also had a house in nearby Macungie which is Delaware for Bear Swamp. Jum Thorp, the great Indian athlete was from Mauch Chunk so when they got his body and built a monument they decided to rename the town, hoping attract tourists. They never came so critics said, "All we got out of this was a dead Indian".
Life is horrible and magnificent all at once. My Puerto Rican grandmother worked for a wealthy white family when she came here, and they would randomly hit her with pots or whatever was handy and scream at her. I didn’t know her then. I only knew her when she owned a soda fountain shop in Freeport on Long Island. We’d visit her there sometimes and she made us the best cheeseburgers and root beer floats. After that she moved to Miami and kept bee hives. She had terrible arthritis in her knees and she would scoop up a bunch of bees in a jar, shake it until they were really mad and then hold the jar over her knees, they would sting her and it brought her relief. She was in the hospital for something fairly insignificant and the doctors recommended knee replacement surgery. She agreed and died of a heart attack days after the surgery. It was only recently that it was determined that bee venom proves effective with people who have arthritis.
Her second husband was a short man with a limp that was the result of a motorcycle accident. His fingernails were always dirty and he smelled like motor oil. Her first husband, my grandfather who I never knew, died of a heroin overdose on a bus headed to Mexico where he was born. My mother was young, and he would shower her with hundred dollar bills but he also abused her and her brother. On the day of her high school graduation he showed up high and started screaming her name. Right before he got on that bus not long afterward, she said that she wished he was dead, and he ended up dying on the bus.
My grandmother was a strong woman and she loved me and my sisters so much. She always sang when she cooked the arroz con pollo that filled her house with such a wonderful, familiar smell, the same smell that fills my house now when I cook for friends. I was beaten by my mother many times, but it doesn’t matter. I sing when I make my grandmother’s arroz con pollo just like she did when she cooked it.
Life is both horrible and magnificent all at once. My grandmother knew it, I know it, and we both chose to sing while we cooked. Chose being the operative word here. We chose joy over tragedy.
A nice piece of writing! Do you put capers and green olives in your arroz con pollo? I grew up eating it as well, and I like to make it now.
Pretending to focus on the positive while banging loudly on the pots and pans and yelling about how much you dislike the negative really isn’t focusing on the positive, is it?
Didn't know I was banging. I'll try to be more subtle. Thank you.
True optimism requires a modicum of delusion as well as a dose of of obstinance but it pays huge dividends over the course of a lifetime. I know you’ve got it in you, Sir.
Sorry, no severely bummed, that we couldn't afford to see you here in Lancaster. Small consolation is our renovated kitchen and the cheery memories of hearing you at Hershey and Wolf Trap. Maybe next time! And loved your PA place observations as a proud Pennsyltuckian. 😆 Also, I'm German mostly, non-Amish, and more of a high church Calvinist. 😎
My husband, whose parents were both from Glen Rock, PA, near York, also has mostly German ancestry except for 3x great-grandparents who were from England and Ireland. The family lore says that the English guy went to Ireland from England to escape having to fight in what we call the American Revolution and married an Irish girl. They emigrated to PA and their children and grandchildren all married people with PA "Dutch" ancestry.
His name is Alan and he once received a letter addressed to Ellen. Like me, he often gets mail with two "Ls" in his first name. My mother was mostly French and I was in college when the Beatles' song came out, so I have the traditional French spelling, but without the ` on the first e. My name is also an Italian man's name, but so far I have only found one man in Italy with the identical first and last names, and nobody yet in the US.
Good evening, Garrison:
Two other interesting Pennsylvanian town names:
California --in which is located California University-- and Indiana (the hometown of Jimmy Stewart) --in which is located The University of Indiana.
(Those who look closely will note the amusing coincident that the names of each of these centers of higher learning are the “opposite” of their better known sibling institutions: that is, the University of California, and Indiana University.)
You got it wrong. It's not Blue Bell. It's Blue Ball. Then ther is Intercourse, Bird-in-hand, Reamstown, Smoketown, Beartown and Goodville, all in Lancaster Co. I know, 'cause I used to ride that train home from college in Lancaster - sixty-five years ago. Instead of the train, you should have taken a ride home in an Amish buggy. The Amish buggies still ride the roads - occasionally fatally.
A Lancaster County story says that Intercourse is halfway between Blue Ball and Paradise, and it is, along US 30.
GK, now that was a gooder. If you count your, every generation can say it was the best.
After your add “blessings”
And you and your wisdom are greatly needed during these times. God bless🙏
Mr. Keillor, This is a pleasant observational and philosophical essay today. It is nice that you’ve survived into your eighties and have some time to reflect and offer your thoughts in humorous fashion. Take care of yourself and try not to fall down.