Halloween Boo Boos

 Halloween Boo Boos
I was remembering several scenarios of a time when I worked in the emergency department of H. C. Frick Hospital in Mt. Pleasant, Pennsylvania and this one stood out. One Halloween, Dr. Vandy was on duty in the emergency room when a young man presented himself with both of his hands injured. It was one of the Flinn boys. For some reason Dr. Vandy had always called the brothers “The Flying Flinns.”
We quite frequently treated the Flinn boys for various injuries. It wasn’t that they were abused, but accidents just seemed to seek them out then find them. They looked a lot alike. They were two peas in a pod, except they weren’t green. Each man had sandy red hair and a wide scattering of freckles spread over their faces.
When we looked at the presenting Flinn boy’s hands, they were abraded, bruised, and scraped. The doctor ordered x-rays. While we were cleaning both of his hands and waiting for the x-ray tech, he began to share his tale.
“I was working at a haunted house tonight. I had huge rubber feet, rubber hands and a big, bushy wig that partially covered my face.”
We could see that the clothing he was wearing were old and tattered with red paint smeared on them to simulate blood.
“Two obviously gay guys came into the maze of the house. All of us tried our hardest to really scare them.  I could hear them coming closer down the darkened hallway. The one was saying, ‘Oh, Franzie! I’m so scared! Franzie, hold me, I’m so scared!’ and I thought, ‘Here’s where I get them.’ Just as they reached the doorway to come into my room, I slapped both of my hands on the door frame in frontt of their faces and howled as loud as I could. I heard ‘OH, FRANZIE!!’ and the guy slammed the door on my fingers. Now, I really did scream. I had a reason to yell. My hollering must have scared them, because they ran through my room and disappeared into the darkness beyond. Now I’m here to see whether or not they broke my hands.”
When the x-ray films came back, He only had a small non-displaced fracture. We dressed his wounds, splinted the finger, and sent him home. It took all we could do to keep from laughing while we were treating him. The Flinn kid was obviously in pain, but what a story he can tell his grandkids.

Barbecued Bears Balls

 Barbequed Bear Balls
I made barbecued meatballs for lunch at the Chestnut Ridge Historical Society and it reminded me of my first wild game banquet. My brother Kenneth Beck had a spare ticket and asked if I wanted to go. Just like most Saturday nights, I was free and readily accepted. I had no idea what to expect. It was all new to me. Before this, the only wild game I’d ever eaten were the animals my dad killed or venison that I killed during deer season.
The first things on the menu were trays of hors d’oeuvres of cheeses, deer sausage, homemade pickles, pickled peppers, and a variety of crackers. The next course offered were soups, regular chili, venison chili, white bean moose soup, turtle soup, squirrel & navy bean soup, or wild mushroom soup. I sampled the turtle soup and the squirrel bean soup.
The next round of foods that was shared was the main course, fresh cloverleaf buns, small buttered potatoes, and green beans. Then there were the display of meats: elk meatloaf, slices of venison roast, wild turkey, bear goulash, venison meatloaf, some type of sausage in sauerkraut, and the barbequed bear balls. The bear meat had been ground up, rolled into meat balls, and cooked in a barbeque sauce.
I didn’t try the sauerkraut and sausage and I wasn’t impressed with the bear goulash. I didn’t like the flavor of the spices that were used in it and I didn’t like the bear meat’s mushy consistency.
A large urn of coffee and several coolers of iced water and lemon Blend graced a small table at the end of the line to wet our whistles and clear palates between the different meats.
Another small table was festooned and piled high with a plethora of desserts:. Cakes of all flavors with their varied icings, small muffins of banana bread, and a few cookies. All were bundled in individual clear plastic containers. It made them easy to select and to carry back to your table.
Door prizes and other ticket prizes for T shirts, car care products, cash prizes, framed pictures, appliances, and several guns were given out to people with matching ticket numbers.
I remember sitting at my computer typing on my computer with a full round gut. At that time, I prayed that the food had settled. The foods must have called a truce, because I had a quiet night of sleep and the herds of wild game didn’t fight for territorial rights during the middle of the night.

Over the River and Through the Woods

Over the River and Through the Woods

Friday and Saturday were both fry days. I fried sausage for the annual Buckwheat, Pancake, and Sausage Festival as a volunteer to support the Ohiopyle & Stewart Volunteer Fire Department. It is their biggest fundraising event for their fire department. It’s an annual event I have worked for nearly fifty years. My father-in-law twisted my arm when I was dating his daughter Cindy Morrison. I must have passed muster, because I eventually married her. I am aging and this year, I fried sausage only on Friday with my son Andrew.

The drive from my home takes almost twenty minutes. Many of the spots along the road are filled with memories. I shared my memories with my son as we drove to Ohiopyle. Some of these places have disappeared or changed. The one that is most noticeable is the metal truss bridge that spanned the Mill Run Reservoir. It was narrow and because of the metalwork overhead, it was damaged by several taller trucks. The new span is wider and has no metalwork overhead. It is smooth and sleek, but lacks any architectural detail or history.

The drive to Ohiopyle consists of a series of hills and curves. It seems to wend its way down into Ohiopyle. The early morning drive was beautiful. Patches of fog often hid the colors of the autumn hued leaves. The fog also veiled the rising sun into a blurry spot of light giving the fog surroundings an ethereal feel. Most of the fog curled in the dips and hollows of the road like a cat curling to sleep. The wall of fog would suddenly disappear and the bright robes of the autumn leaves would appear glistening with dew in the soft sunlight. The oak and maple trees were wearing their finest coats. The poplar trees had shed most of their leaves standing tall and stately with their bared limbs raised toward the sky.

Situated close to the road is the church and school house at Bear Run Conservancy. It is near the entrance to Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwater. My wife’s grandmother, Pearl Jackson Morrison lived in the school house until she died. The Conservancy has returned it to it’s original construction, removing a garage and closed in side porch.

Another notable site along the route is the church that was part of the movie, “Four Weddings and a Funeral.” The changes made by s\the state parks have robbed Ohiopyle of its sleepy little village and natural beauty, but it still stirs memories of that time. 

Shine On

 Shine On
I thought I’d share one day I had to myself when I visited a place I would visit around Christmastime to shop for gifts for my wife. I’d not visited for several years. It once was a Red & White store on Route 30 just west of Ligonier. After the store closed, it became an antique/flea market. It was a wonderful place to stroll through and take in all of the items from the past. Anything and everything gathered on the shelves. It was a marvelous building to wander through, trying to decide if it was something I wanted, needed, or could afford.
I climbed into my car and dreamed of exploring the store and browsing through the accumulated oddities. The trip through the gray drizzle did little to dampen my anticipation. When I got to the location the entire building was missing. It had been torn down. My heart fell. I turned around and drove back into Ligonier to satisfy another craving. I ate lunch at Ruthies, a small diner to the east of Ligonier on Route 30. I wasn’t disappointed. The food was great, but now Ruthies is gone too, claimed by fire.
I went home, deciding to rest and allow my food to digest. Feet up, I snapped on the television. The program Moonshiners popped up. It was a program I hadn’t seen before and watched it to the end. It did bring to my attention of an incident that happened years ago while Connellsville Senior High School. In chemistry class lab my lab partner and I were to do a distillation project. I knew that I had some elderberry juice that I concocted was still there in my parent’s basement smelling a bit yeasty. Perfect. I smuggled it into school and then into the classroom.
After setting up the Bunsen burner and the glass tubing necessry for the “distillery” I eased the lid off the jar and poured the elderberry juice into the glass still pot, fired up the Bunsen burner, and waited. Controlling the heat was difficult. The temperature would fluctuate, but soon we had some distillate dripping from the coil and collecting in a beaker. Because we were unsure of the “purity” of the distillate, we decided to run it through the still a second time.
We controlled the heat much better and soon the liquid flowed clear as water. My partner said, “Do you think we should try it?” But before I could answer out instructor said, “I’ll take that boys.” So we never knew if we ever achieved liquor, what proof it was, or if it was palatable.

Given the Boot

Given the Boot
Seeing a photo of myself that my daughter Anna Beck Prinkey posted for Veteran’s Day, dredged up some memories from that time. The photo was from boot camp at Great Lakes Naval Facility. I saw the face of a nerdy teenaged boy looking back at me with dark rimmed glasses. The memory was of the chaos after emerging from the bus on the base. My emotions were already in turmoil, I’d just flown for the first time from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania to O’Hare airport Illinois. I’d just celebrated Thanksgiving at home and knew I’d be away from home for Christmas. Gathered with other confused kids in a large hall we were hustled from one spot to another; gathering shoes, underwear, clothing and a duffle bag. The group was then herded into a barber shop where we were shorn. The clippers flew over my head. As I ran my hand over the stubble, I was reminded of a plush stuffed animal. What a strange sensation. I’d only had a crew cut twice in my life. My dad deemed it necessary, and I hated it. I believe that is why I still wear a cap today.
I mentioned in past posts that the commander of our sister company was a real hard nose. The “Soon-to- be sailors” under his leadership were so angry with his constant derision, they made plans to kill him. If they did, we as their sister company would be kept in boot camp FOREVER or at least until things were sorted out. A goodly number of our company and theirs were black kids, many from the south. Our company thought we’d have to break the tension to salvage our training. Everyone in our company stripped the sheets and pillow case from their beds. Wrapped in the sheets with the pillow case tilted back on our heads so our faces would be recognized, we marched down the aisle of out sister company’s barracks.
The men of our sister company were at first shocked, but as they began to distinguish familiar faces they began to laugh. We were used to marching together and were easily recognized. The mounting tension was broken and we graduated on time.
Another thought that was almost like an oasis in the confusion and myriad of new experiences, routines, and faces was in the first week of basic training, I was in line at the chow hall. One of the men “slinging hash” was a guy with whom I graduated high school. That was the only time I ever saw him, but it was just a bit of normalcy that I needed in the madness of boot camp.

Back to School

Back to School
This is the time of year that kid’s and parent’s thoughts turn to getting ready for the new school year. Most of the children have some reluctance and most of the parents have mixed feelings of relief and anxiety. The first day of school may be the child’s first ride on a school bus, meeting a new teacher, or wearing the new school clothing.
Near the end of summer I would hear the cicadas rasping their songs in the heat. There was nothing to dread from these small creatures, but as a child, I developed an unsettled feeling of angst when they would began their concert. I knew my summer freedom was nearly over and the routine of schooldays would soon begin. Days of reading, math, and spelling, months of history, science, and geography, and nearly a full year of penmanship, hard seated desks, and other not-too-polite kids lay ahead. It also meant recess, lunches, and making new friends.
Going back to school always meant going to the Gabriel’s store with my mom Sybil Miner Beck to shop for clothing. My first recollection of that store was its location in Uniontown, Pennsylvania. It waas coposed of two housesthat were conjoined by built-in walkways. Bins and tables were full of jumbled pants, shirts, and other items that had to be sorted through to find “seconds” that were still in wearable shape. Several years later, the store moved to a larger much roomier building, but the need to examine the clothing was real: checking for missing buttons, working zippers, tears, and to be sure that there were no major flaws.
Then came the role reversal, I got married to my wife Cindy Morrison Beck and we had three children of our own. School days meant something completely different, but then again, my wife was a school teacher. She taught at the private Christian school where our children were enrolled. School days meant visiting stores for school supplies and new clothing. The entire family would make the traditional pilgrimage to Gabriel Brothers to shop for school clothes or to the J. C. Penny outlet in Columbus, Ohio.
Gabriel’s has now expanded to have multiple stores. Growing up people called the original two stores Gabe’s. Apparently, the owners of the stores heard the public’s nickname for them and have changed the signage renaming the stores Gabe’s. The tradition of going to Gabe.s has been lost, but now as an adult when I hear the cicadas and the school days draw near, the sound always stirs thoughts of the old conjoined houses and shopping at Gabe’s for school clothes.=

Names Have Been Changed to Protect the Innocent (Namely Me)

Names Have Been Changed to Protect the Innocent (Namely Me)
With Halloween coming closer, I thought I would share this brush with this spooky season. It really isn’t a ghost story, but it will have to do.
I may have shared this incident before but I still laugh when I think of it. Because it is in the same vein I will tell it anyway. While I was employed at Frick Hospital in Mt. Pleasant, Pennsylvania,  I had just taken the body of a deceased person to the morgue. I, placed the cart in the cooler and was finishing the paper work in the log, when I heard voices in the storeroom through a connecting vent high on the wall. It was our maintenance man, Franz and Niecie, one of our female central supply techs. They were retrieving a bariatric bed. Bariatric beds are oversized beds for the larger patients. The bed had always been stored directly beneath the vent in the storage room next door.
I moved across the morgue until I was underneath the vent. I cupped my hands around my mouth and making a funnel I moaned, “W-O-O-O-O-O-O! W-O-O-O-O-O!”
They immediately stopped talking. Then I heard Niecie ask, “Franz, did you hear that?!”
When Franz didn’t answer right away, she persisted, “Did you hear that?”
Franz said “Yes! Yes I did.”
“What was that?” She asked.
I heard Franz shush her.
They were quiet and I could tell they were listening. So I waited. When I heard them start to move the bed in the next room, again I moaned, “W-O-O-O-O-O! W-O-O-O-O-O!”
Niecie said, “Let’s get out of here!” I heard the supply room door pop open and the wheels of the bed rolled out of the room at a high rate of speed.
Later I met Franz in the hallway and told him what I had done. He laughed and said, “I didn’t know what that noise was. I knew the morgue was next door, so I thought at first it could have been a ghost. The second time you moaned, Neicie’s eyes bugged out. She grabbed my arm and almost climbed up onto my shoulders. I think she would have if I would have let her.”
            We never told Neicie and if you read this, I apologize.