Floods
I saw on Facebook memories from seven years ago photographs of the Connellsville area that was hit by flooding. The deluge filled the streams until they overflowed their banks. It flowed into many basements, pushed homes from their foundations, and washed out bridges and destroyed roadways. Cars and trucks were pushed into the water and washed downstream. Trees and the soil banks were uprooted and dislodged.
It reminded me of another deluge that happened in our area. The rain came in torrents, so thick I often couldn’t see to drive. Route 30 near Greensburg had deep, long pools that covered the pavement allowing only one lane of traffic in many areas. I tried to leave the animal shelter in Derry with a newly spayed cat, and ended up being detoured several times. One road I was on the water ran like a river pushing boulders about the size of soccer balls. It took me nearly two and a half hours to make a normally forty-five minute trip home. I was worried about the trip for the cat in a carrier on the front seat.
Now for a way back moment. There was a flood in Melcroft, Pennsylvania. Melcroft was another coal patch town in western Pennsylvania. The clapboard houses were located near the mines and near a stream of water.  My Aunt Estella Strawderman, her husband Melvin, and their daughter Shirley lived in one of the rental houses. The stream evolved into a raging flood during another storm. It came quickly. There was no warning. There weren’t the television and radio alerts and the house was swept away with Estella and Shirley inside. They were washed downstream. Aunt Estella managed to hold on to Shirley while being tossed to and fro in the maelstrom. Aunt Estella was tossed into a tree that stood steadfast against the powerful current. A person heard her cry and with help, men were able to rescue her and Shirley.
Another devastating flood in our area was the Johnstown Flood. In the hills above Johnstown was a hunting and fishing club for wealthy patrons. A large earthen dam created a lake for fishing and boating. The dam wasn’t strong enough to handle the water when the clouds split open and dumped a huge amount of rain into the hills surrounding the lake. The weakened dam burst and destroyed every building but one downstream in Johnstown. The horror and the trauma caused those who survived them to move in with relatives and not to return to Johnstown.

Antiques and Museums
I was able to go with friends into Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania Saturday. August was free admission at the Senator John Heinz History Center. Six floors of history from the Pittsburgh area are on display. Each floor had a myriad of items and articles to see. We rode the elevator up and wandered our way back to the first floor. There was even an area for kids to discover interactive displays. (We didn’t go in there. We were a bit over the age; we didn’t have any kids and didn’t want the kids inside to make us look stupid).
I was personally intrigued by the displays on the fifth floor. There were story boards, pictures, and mannequins dressed in period garb of the French and Indian War: Blacks, Hessians, French, and English brandishing weapons or tools of that era. One display had two Native Americans carrying a huge birch bark canoe. It had to be 20 or 22 feet in length. One section had paintings and drawings of battles and clashes. Other displays held swords, rifles, pistols, powder horns and artifacts from the battlefields.
The fourth floor displayed scenes from the Civil War and slavery. It was another area of interest for me. Many of the displays showed the cruelty of slave trade: manacles, whips, and chains. Some walls sported posters offering rewards for the return of runaway slaves. Mannequins showed the inhumane ways slaves were transported and debased. The opposite side of the floor was the Mister Rogers Neighborhood display, Glass making and the Heinz display was a divider between the two sections.
The third floor displays old time inventions and kitchens of the era. Old tools and other paraphernalia filled the displays from corsets to wood shaving planes. Information and items of the Lewis and Clark expedition were exciting to see. A section was set aside for half of the floor of the sports displays with tribute to the Mooney family.
On the second floor is the second half of the sports display section from the third floor. It was impressive to wander among the trophies and memorabilia from the many teams of Southwestern Pennsylvania: professional, college, and high schools, giving honor to the mascots, teams and coaches.
A large section was given to display innovations developed in the Pittsburgh area. It was interesting to see the inventions and improvements that took root in our area.
Back on the first floor, we viewed the large wagons, a fire truck, and a roller coaster car from Kennywood. The staff was more than courteous. It was my first time visiting the museum. I was just thankful they didn’t put me in a display as an antique.

Cultivating Friendships
I’ve met a lot of people in my seventy-four years of living. Many were workmates, clients, or school chums, but certain people have become as close as family. What makes the difference? Sometimes it’s little more than knowing them for a long time. The length of contact reveals similarities or exposes differences. I’ve often had differences of opinion with my wife, her mom, and other friends, but the past them. That will often mean you don’t agree with their ideas, but it still allows for discussion without anger.
I a few very close friends, two of them are women. One is a workmate. That friendship developed over quite a number of years. A few years after traveling for work, she settled back into this area and our friendship grew stronger. We go to the same church and I’ve helped her can vegetables from her garden for several years. Her daughter says we fight like brother and sister, not like friends. She’s had a number of setbacks in her life, but she’s survived and I’m thankful for that. I’d miss her friendship terribly if she weren’t here.
Another friend is also female and I’ve known her for almost as long or possibly longer. She’s had a lot of trauma in her life as well. Multiple accidents has caused her to have the need a service animal. Sometimes I become her service dog. When she doesn’t want to take her dog along, I get promoted to that position. We’ve gone on several vacations, sharing the costs and conversations as we travel. A few vacations were to North Carolina and along the four borders of Pennsylvania. We’ve been to West Virginia and flew to California to visit an elderly aunt. This friend also goes to my church.
My last group of friends are my old schoolmates. Several of us gather once a month to eat lunch, talk about old times, or talk about what’s happening in our lives now. It’s a pleasant time to reminisce and to keep connections to those old friendships. They aren’t as close as the others the day to day interactions aren’t there, but I consider them my friends.
I try to be friendly even at Wal-Mart, where people often block aisles with their carts becoming immovable statues as they search for products on the shelves. I will often ask little old ladies if they need me to reach for things on the top shelf. It usually earns smile. I’ll often offer Gospel tracts and my business cards just to talk with folks. With an empty house, it’s nice to chat with someone else. Who knows, I might find a new friend.

Puddles Ponds and Pools
Somehow there is a fascination for kids and water. Mud puddles are a major drawing power nearly irresistible to children. They enjoy the splashing, wanting to spend as much time as the patient parent will allow. Jumping, dancing, and splashing often leads to the child losing balance falling into the muddy water…unless the parent is near and quick enough to affect a rescue. If rescues don’t happen, the child will most often relish their newfound liquid playground, rolling, kicking, and laughing. The parent stands helplessly by, wondering how in the world they’ll clean them or if they will ever get the mud out of the clothes. If they’re away from home the concern escalates. How can they keep the car seats from being impregnated with the muck? The blissful child only understands the innocent joy of the moment.
With all the backyard swimming pools, does anybody still swim in ponds or dammed up sections of streams? When I was younger…much younger, ponds, and streams were the only places to swim, mostly in the streams. Ponds were often muddy and for cattle to drink, not clean enough for swimming.
One stream where we swam was in Camp Wildwood, a Boy Scout camp abandoned in 1949. I’ve shared many stories other than swimming about things that happened there. Another place was at White Bridge just off Rt. 653 near Rogers Mills, Pennsylvania. It was the first time I’d ever seen the Hellbender salamander and it took me quite by surprise. I’ve also mentioned the swimming hole near Indian Head by the field where we boys played impromptu games of baseball, then would skinny dip in the cool water. Several of my past posts extol the adventures of that dammed up spot on the creek.
The last spot where we swam was the closest to my parent’s place. It was a deep pool beneath a bridge of Route 711 between Normalville and Indian Head, Pennsylvania. The water was extremely cold, if not frigid. The water flowed through the hills covered with shade from its beginning as snow melts or from multiple springs that fed the creek. It had little time to warm.
It was a show of bravado to make our first swim before the first of May. Making a fire on the rocky beach was a necessity before taking the plunge, a must to thaw us out between plunges of water torture. To one side of the arched span was the deeper channel of water and on the other was the beach; the spot for the bonfire and salvation. Snitched snacks of toasted saltines and a slather of oleo were shared as we huddled around the warming flames.

 Re-Reunuioned Out
Sunday I attended another family reunion. This was the third I’ve attended this past year. The first one that was held was the Minerd-Minard-Miner-Minor Reunion that was held at Camp Christian in Mill Run, Pennsylvania. There were relatives from as far away as California and the attendance was great. I thoroughly enjoyed mingling and reuniting with cousins from all over. The cam was quiet and conducive to sitting, eating, relaxing, and talking. There were people there that I hadn’t met before and was able to make new friendships.
Next was the Rugg Reunion. It would have been the 102nd reunion if the Covid scare hadn’t closed the gathering. It seems that this crowd brings quite a few young people to the event. It doesn’t seem that long ago that my kids were young and so was I. The unusual thing about this reunion was the food table had lots of main dishes and only one lone fruit salad on the dessert table. Usually it has been just the opposite with the tables of desserts outweighed the good-for-you foods. The auction of wrapped gifts is the center of attention where often bidding wars develops to see the contents of the bag or wrapped box. Usually there is a hint to what’s inside. It lets the bidder know if it’s for a child, man, or woman.
This past Sunday was the Nedrow-Ferguson Reunion. It was the 109th gathering. The reason for the double named reunion is that back in history of the area the Nedrows and the Fergusons had adjacent farms. They were isolated in the wilderness, so men from one family married women from the other and vice versa. When the genealogists traced the family tree, they were stumped at all of the intertwining roots. It became necessary to collect all of the branches from both trees. They also have an auction, but it’s just a little less exciting. The “white elephant” items are visible and the people know what they are bidding on. Because I have been so busy with canning, I didn’t take the time to search my closets or to shop for anything. Instead I took a quart jar of Kosher Dill Pickles and a jar of Salsa. Another item I took was two of my books. I was talking with another writer who writes poetry and songs.
I was able to share many old photographs of the Nedrows and Fergusons. They were passed down from my grandfather Beck. The best thing was that most of the photos had names on the reverse side. If you keep photos, please include the name of the person and date on the back side for future generations if you know.

Homemade Cannon
Some people say, "boys will be boys." and I am sure that I was not an exception. Our neighbor boys were older and were into much more construction and destruction than I was. They were always tinkering with cars, sleds, and cannons. Yes, cannons, but all the more dangerous. The neighbor boys had older brothers who supplied them with firecrackers. They were legal at that time.
Our neighbor's boys had some cherry bomb firecrackers that their older brothers had bought for them. This was a time when fireworks were legal in Pennsylvania. I was visiting and they were looking for an ingenious way to set them off. The loud noise wasn’t enough for them. Why waste a cherry bomb and just see it explode. An idea came to them as they started rummaging around in a scrap pile. They had already put a firecracker under a can and watched it fly into the air with the force of the explosion.
Pulling an old metal bedstead out from the other items in the pile, they carried it to a level place and pushed one end into the soft ground at a slight angle, while the opposite open end aimed skyward. They dropped a lit cherry bomb into the tube. It was cool to hear the ringing peal of thunder and see the paper and smoke come flying out of the end of the tube. It was impressive, but not impressive enough.
They found the large tomato can that they had used earlier. It was just small enough to slide down the tube snugly. They lit another cherry bomb, dropped the explosive. The can quickly followed down into the bedstead. I could hear the metal can scraping as it made its way to the bottom.
Boom! The can flew nearly twenty feet into the air. I thought it was great, but of course they wanted more.
Retrieving the can, they filled it nearly half full with the pea –sized gravel and small stones. They dropped it down into the cannon following the lit firecracker. (Cannon was what they were calling the bedstead by now.)
BOOM!. The percussion was louder than before. The weight of the can must have caused a greater compression before the can was forced out. It shot about ten feet higher than the previous shot, the gravel flew out of the can, and it ripped leaves from the oak branches overhead. The scattering gravel fell back onto our heads, down the driveway, and some hit their dad’s pickup truck parked near the house.
Although they still had several cherry bombs, they wisely chose to save them for another day and the cannon went back to the scrap heap.

Choose Me
It is the freedom to choose that makes mankind different from the animal and was the freedom to choose that caused the fall of mankind. In the Garden of Eden, God gave Adam the freedom to eat of every tree in the garden except one. It was the only limitation that God gave to mankind. God walked with Adam and Eve every day. In the cool of the evening God strolled through the garden and fellowshipped with them. Adam named all of the animals and plants that surrounded him and God saw that it was good. Satan was subtle and approached Eve. He twisted God’s word about the forbidden fruit and beguiled her into taking a bite. When she did, her eyes were opened and she was aware of sin. She took the fruit to her husband and shared the fruit with him. Adam named all of the plants. I’m sure he recognized the fruit and yet he chose to disobey God and also ate of the forbidden fruit. It was his choice to obey God or to disobey God. Since then mankind has tasted death and had to deal with sin in the world.
Mankind still has to make that choice today. God gave mankind the freedom to choose. The person must choose whether to follow God’s word or follow the path to self-destruction. Will a person choose to smoke, drink alcohol, or use drugs? Will a person choose to marry or not to marry?  Will a person choose to buy a car or to buy a house? Will a person choose to have a family or not.
Today there are choices that are being foisted on the American public as being acceptable when they are in direct contradiction to God’s word. The Bible tells that men shouldn’t wear women’s clothing and women not to wear men’s attire. Same sex partners are also forbidden. Sex outside of marriage is also decried and wrong. Murder is another taboo, and yet there are those who have changed the wording to “Pro-choice” in an attempt to make the killing of infants more palatable. Pedophilia is another evil forbidden by God’s word. It would be better for the person who harms a child to have a millstone tied to his neck and cast into the ocean.
The most important choice is whether or not you accept the gift of salvation or not. Accepting Jesus Christ as Savior is the difference between spending an eternity in Heaven or Hell. The choice is yours. Decide before it’s too late.