JULY 29 - AUGUST 4, 2000
AUGUST 4, 2K
Run Bill! Run!
Good morning. It is 55.2 degrees at 6:07 A.M. Last night was a great
night for sleep. It was just about to be cold, but it wasn't. And now the
national election is on and am I ever glad those windbags are off the
television. Thank God for A&E! But alas. We still have the Democrats
to look forward to.
I was at a loss when I heard that there were protesters at the
Republican Convention. I was really at a loss when I saw them battling
with the police. Was there some war going on that I hadn't heard of? Had
they re-installed the draft? Was John Cleland behind all of this? Had he resurrected
his old SDS unit? It was way beyond me.
They were calling themselves "Anarchists." That had shades
going back to the turn of the last century when "mad bombers"
went around trying to kill the crown heads of Europe and political leaders
in general. That was the way World War I started. And it seemed to me that
they had much the same agenda - minus the bombs of course.
So what was their point?
It seemed to me that they were protesting prosperity as a whole. None
of them seemed to be lacking for much. One day, Monday I believe, they
rallied hundreds of homeless out of the parks and gutters of Philadelphia
to march on City Hall. They promised some a bottle of cheap wine, others
got a pass for a meal at Wendy's, and others were given a shower at the
local "Y." Somewhere in their minds they were believing that
someone might care when they showed the gulf between the overweight, well
to do Republicans in the convention hall and the unwashed, homeless masses
of the streets.
I am sure that my parents and their contemporaries stood back, much
like I did, and wondered much the same when the Vietnam War protests were
going on. I looked upon the protesters as cowards who did not want to
serve their country. Of course I would have, I was in uniform serving
while they were wearing their hair long with their love beads and smoking
dope while I was being told to stand CQ (Commander of Quarters) over a
squadron of trainees.
But evidently there was a point. Maybe it was a point I missed at the
time because I felt a duty to my country and had been told by my parents
that when we went to war it was my job to serve.
Obviously I missed the point along with millions of others. It was the
minority that was smart enough to catch it. And they, for their foresight
and intelligence, have been rewarded. One of them, Bill Clinton, was
elected President; and here where I live, our Judge, John Cleland, another
one of them, has been installed for life as god almighty, so to speak. Me.
I was the dummy.
Another one of those dummies is Bill Belitskus.
I see that Bill is running for Congress again as a Green Party
Candidate. He is on the same ticket as Ralph Nader, who is the Green Party
Candidate for President. Bill is running against John Peterson, our former
State Senator, who in leaving that position opened the office up to the
likes of the currently incarcerated William "Sludge King"
Slocum.
Aside from fondling his aides, no one is able to say very much that is
bad about John Peterson. He has always talked a good game, not offended
too many people, and around here, as long as you are a Republican, you
will be re-elected. Two years ago, as Peterson's only challenger, Bill
Belitiskus got just under 10% of the total vote in this Congressional
District. I voted for him and I will probably vote for him again. And in
that respect, maybe I am a little bit like the "Anarchists."
I don't agree with Bill on his stand on the forests. No. We are at odds
there. He believes that the forests should be allowed to return to
wilderness, while I support controlled logging and regeneration. But that
is where we cease disagreeing, and when you consider the massive issues
that face us, even in this time of prosperity, the forests are a minor
issue. What I like is that no one owns him.
John Peterson is bought and paid for, owned, lock stock and barrel by
the Republican Party. They tell him to jump - he asks: "How
high?" They say squat - he asks: "Where?" How can he in any
attempt at honesty claim that he represents the true interests of the
people? And we know it, too. We all know it and we are so used to it we
don't even care. Maybe that's what the protests were all about.
Think about it. What would happen if (as County Commissioner Jim Weaver
described him as) a "kook" like Bill Belitskus was elected to
represent us in the United States Congress? Would anything change?
Seriously, probably nothing at all. But is that true?
As probably the only Green Party Congressman in Washington, Congressman
Belitskus would be an unheard voice. But in reality, Bill has always been
just that. He has been a minor pain in the rear end for Willamette
Industries and as such saw to it that the had to pay up for poisoning the
air in and around Johnsonburg, PA. He was a fellow ally fighting against
County Commissioner Chairman Larry Stratton when he attempted to make this
county the site for a low level nuclear waste dump. And Bill has always
battled with me the insider deals that are slid through the local
governments without the people ever being told or consulted about what was
being foisted upon them.
And where was John Peterson through all of this?
He took campaign funds from PAC's (Political Action Committees) that
were supported by Willamette Industries. He stayed silent over the
purposeful and deliberate attempt to poison for all time with radioactive
waste the lands, the ground water, and the water sheds for the
Susquehanna, the Clarion, the Allegheny, and the Ohio Rivers. And when it
comes to inside deals, Peterson is part and parcel to each and every one
of them. He is part of the system that perpetuates exactly that and is
sworn to see that it continues.
When you look at it that way, and when you multiply it by all the
overweight and puffed up delegates, politicians, candidates and lobbyists
who were at the Republican National Convention, and then square that by
the numbers of exactly the same that will go to Los Angeles for the
Democratic Convention, and then you realize that to keep their jobs they
have to all be like John, then you get the idea of what the
"Anarchists" were all about.
And sitting here in luxury with all the latest tools and gadgets I have
to admire Bill Belitskus. I have to applaud him for not giving up and for
having the courage to put himself out there and run against the unlimited
funds of John Peterson and the political power structure that controls
each and every aspect of our lives.
Run Bill. Run and don't give in to the bastards.
Your comments are welcome at editor@mlrmag.com.
AUGUST 3, 2K
Gerty the Pig
Good morning. It is 58.6 degrees at 6:26 A.M. The cold front went
through about three this morning and the thunder and lightning woke me out
of a great sleep. As that happened I prepared to do today's story.
No. I am not talking about Betty C or Judy C - the party chairwomen. No
I am not. I am talking about a real live pig - or at least a real live
make believe pig that Mr. Louie Lawent has written about. He e-mailed me
several weeks ago and asked for a plug.
Now as prestigious as this publication is, especially this
column, we could not and do not hand out plugs off handedly. No. Before we
can endorse anything we must do extensive research and testing. And that
is exactly what we did in the case of Gerty the Pig. Check out what we
found when we looked. Here are two sample pages from the book.
This
is page one of the book. Look at Gerty. She is a doll. And Amy, your girls
would love her! Sam does. Actually, as it is described, Gerty is a fun
children's book, geared to 7 to 9 year olds. The creators of the book are
Lowie Lawent and Tim Helstad. Rick Radliff is the illustrator.
Fun.
Fun. Fun.
Gerty
the Pig is published by Ozark Publishing and may be ordered on line from
either Barnes and Noble or Amazon.com. You may access them from here and
ask for Gerty the Pig. The book sells for $14.95 in hardback and $6.95 in
paperback. The average customer review with Amazon.com was Five Stars, the
best that can be given. We whole heartedly agree with that and recommend
it to parents with children of all ages. If they don't understand the
story, they will enjoy the pictures. The book generally ships in one to
two weeks. This book comes with our highest recommendation. In the
meantime, feel free to contact us at editor@mlrmag.com.
AUGUST 2, 2K
Good morning. It is 66.0 degrees at 6:01 A.M. Today we have a few words
from our own Tom Clark.
Words From Above BY TOM CLARK
Since the Summer 2K issue of the Mountain Laurel Review hit the streets, I have been swamped with e-mails from folks who were
enlightened, enraged and/or entertained by my columns. I would like to respond to each one of them personally but, hey, who has time for that?
One particular e-mail I received gets special attention and it is attached in its entirety below. It's always nice to hear from The Big
Guy, especially when it isn't because I screwed up. Ever since Heaven hooked up to the Internet, it sort of gives a new meaning to the word
"cyberspace."
Anyways, here's the e-mail I received from God. He asked me not to
reveal his address, for obvious reasons.
Hey T.C.,
I thought I'd fire off an e-mail and let you know that I think you are
doing a great job with your MLR columns. The field agents down there on Earth tell me that the whole town of Bradford is is buzzing over your
columns.
First, though, I'd like to thank you for swerving yesterday to avoid
running over that squirrel. When I came up with the idea for the furry little guys, I should have made their heads a little bigger and added
another quarter ounce of brains. At least I made them tasty so that the crows will eat up the road kill.
The Communications Center up here told me that there are a few people
in Bradford praying for you, like you are some type of heinous person. What's up with that? I guess they are closed-minded and getting the
wrong idea when they are reading your columns. You know how some people automatically take the negative approach to everything.
I checked in on you Wednesday afternoon and it looked like you were
having a great time at Bradford's Lunch In The Square. It makes me happy to see a town come together for little events like that. I overheard you
talking to the event chairwoman, Jen Eakin, and think it's great that you are going to help them with some banners for future events.
A little later Jen mentioned the banners to someone and said that you
were going to make them, and their response was, "Tom Clark is going to do that? But, he hates Bradford!"
That was one of the many, many times that I've had to bite my tongue.
If you hated Bradford, T.C., I would have pulled a Number 8 (Divine Intervention) and never let you move back there.
I can't think of many people who love the place more than you. It
seems that people confuse concern for hate. I like that you find
problems that need addressed and expose them through your columns. But, unlike most who bitch (excuse my Arabic) about something, you always
seem to offer a viable solution. I guess it's your hint of sarcasm that throws people off.
Two of the greatest gifts I gave to humans were creativeness and the ability to
laugh and, unfortunately, they are the least used. Everyone has both, it's just that some either refuse to exercise them or don't know how.
My intentions were for humans to enjoy life, not to be sourpusses.
I have a little news for them, if they are miserable down there, they
will be up here, too. I don't like letting on about this, but the Afterlife parallels your mortal life. T.C., my man, you are going to be
rocking when you get to Heaven!
Most everyone ends up here when they go down for the big dirt nap,
except the really nasty people, such as serial killers, child molesters
and rappers. We have some fun with the the shakier ones, like we did
with Marshall Applewhite and his Heaven's Gate cult.
When they did the mass suicide thing to try hitching a ride on the Halle Bopp comet, Moses and a few of the boys had them line up at the
Milky Way and told the cultists that their only way into Heaven was by comet, then sent a few by them.
Our guys would do like some of you used to do with hitchhikers, pull over and when the guy runs up and
grabs the door handle, you would take off. It was a trick slowing down and stopping the comets, but we laughed for hours watching these nuts
dressed in purple chasing the comets around.
I've heard some grumbling about how you get down on the welfare people. Some of the praying, bleeding hearts tried to pull the "We are
all God's children" line. When people are born, they are My children. What they make of their lives are their own decisions.
I, like you, am very glad that the welfare system is in place to help
those who need it. As far as the slackers go, they'll get theirs when
they come up here. Hard workers like you, T.C., will be hanging out by the pool all day while those who refused to contribute to society on
Earth will be working their butts off up here.
As you know, it's Hurricane Season and it's one of our busier times of the year. The boys
in Weather Control are working around the clock anymore. Sorry about the lack of snow last winter, I know how much you like to cross-country ski.
We had a new guy working in Lake Effects, who lived in Arizona, and he was a little apprehensive about dumping on your sector. When I found
out about it, I told him to give it his all, you folks down there can take it.
I did want to tell you that I appreciate you not pestering me for trivial things everyday. When I made humans, I gave them the ability to
think logically. It seems that some of your fellow humans can't make a decision without bothering me for guidance. I always dread when these
people they get up here, they're always tagging along behind me asking for advice on every move they make. I'm
surprised some of the hard core Bible Thumpers can actually pick their noses without asking me for
blessings.
We have a few of the boys working on an updated version of the Bible, something we should
have done years ago. I know it's outdated but most of the things in it still hold true. I really like your idea for an 11th
Commandment, "Thou shalt not blast rap music from thy car whilest driving on Main Street".
By the way, the New Book won't have any of that "thou" or "shalt" stuff in it. Who talks that way anymore?
I personally think we could solve all of the world's problems with one
simple sentence, one that promotes love and humanity for all living creatures. No, it's not something Billy Graham, Jimmy Swaggart or any
other "man of the cloth" said. It's from one of your favorite movies, T.C., "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure". In fact, we could lose
eight out of the Ten Commandments with the one line.
It's the line that Rupert, played by one of Earth's greatest talents,
George Carlin, says to Bill and Ted when he bids them farewell... "Be excellent to each other". I know you practice it, T.C., I just wish the
rest of your fellow humans would, too.
Well, I wasted enough of your time. Keep writing in the MLR and bringing a little sunshine into the lives of the people you touch daily.
Tell Senator Beck, er...that shouldn't have slipped out. I meant to say, tell Bud I said hello.
I know we have an agreement that I don't tell you what to do in your life and you don't tell me how
to run the Universe. But, I would like to make a little suggestion that may make things go a little better for you. Try
holding your bat angled back a little more before you swing. I think it may give you more sting
on the ball. Keep 'em straight down there and I'll see you later.
Love always,
God
Mortals may e-mail me anytime at tcclark@2-cool.com. 'Til next week..."Be excellent to each other".
Now was that blasphemy or not? Maybe we should confer with the
Reverend David Souder, the conscience of the Borough of Bradford and find
out a definitive ruling on this. Heavens! I hate it when Tom does this.
Comments are welcome at editor@mlrmag.com.
AUGUST 1, 2K
The Consensus
Good morning. It is 65.8 degrees at 6:08 A.M.
We had a small thunderstorm yesterday. It raised the water level in my
pool six inches in forty minutes. Fortunately, I had ground faulted the
electricity so as the water spilled over the filter shut off. I guess I
will be drying everything out today.
Fortunately for me, after I got through working outside
cutting down weeds and rolling up fence from a defunct garden, I was able
to use the pool before the storm. Actually, as the rains were falling on
Bradford around two, I was floating in the pool, talking on the phone, and
basking in the sun as it broke through between heavy dark clouds that were
building up all around.
Yesterday's article seemed to strike at a place near and dear to many
of you. I really didn't believe it was only a dream. I believed
that it was indeed Aunt Rose. Why wouldn't it be?
She was a kind and loving woman. She added a new dimension to the
lives of the members of our family in the respect that she gave us a
bridge to the past. And what a story teller! She could spend hours telling
stories about gangsters in New York in the twenties, or her Uncle Fred
whom she claimed founded 20th Century Films in the silent movie era that
became 20th Century Fox Films. So, if she felt I was neglecting something
she knew that I believed in, then of course she would show up and tell me
so.
What a response from you, too. Old friends took the time to drop me a
line.
Hi from France again Harold - I think Aunt Rose visited you to let
you rest that she is at rest - pleasant dreams & lots of good luck...
Thank you. It is good hearing from the two of you and hope you are in
good health and the grape crop is coming in the way you want it. Hope it
is a vintage year for you, too!
Bud, Of course Aunt Rose visited you. Why would you even
question this? (This from the man who talks with 200-some year old Senecas!!!)
My grandmother has visited me in dreams on occasion as well. It
is quite an experience and somehow very different from ordinary dreams.
Say hi to Aunt Rose when you talk again!!!!!
You can say that again! That particular dream was very different from
ordinary dream. It was so bright, light wise; and it was so vivid. The
message was clear. Rose wanted people to know that she was concerned about
them - Sue, Phyllis, and Linda, all fine women who cared very much about
her and did so much to help her in her last four years.
I have had some strange out-of-body experiences and I believe that
those angels really come back.
Aunt Rose is one, you know. She is really assisting somewhere
else but they can come back when their input is
needed. Apparently, you had to be told
something. That is what they do.
Perhaps it was to let you know that the Seniors are missing something. I
know because my Mom fis visiting me now and she says
that they are no longer getting your Mountain Laurel Review delivered.
What gives? Perhaps Aunt Rose stopped by to let you know that
the Seniors count on you to deliver the truth to them,
too! Gives them something to talk about rather than the Soaps
and the Error.
Did you ever think about the television programs that were
on? The
History Channel. The Killing Fields? They were
subliminally the medium through which she came. I
know. My Dad came to me just last November. His face
was on the TV screen! He also comes to me in wind chimes and
telephone rings.
Bud, talk to Aunt Rose every now and then. She will keep coming
if you let her. But, if you are skeptical, she
won't. When she comes, let her in. You will never be
the same. It wasn't a dream, it was the REAL thing!
I can accept that. Aside from loving the Senior Center, she also loved the
Mountain Laurel Review. She especially loved seeing her picture in
it and the articles published under her by-line. When it would come out
and it was at the Senior Center, she would squirrel away a dozen or so
copies and try to sneak them home. She never quite made the connection
toward the end that I was publishing it and having them printed. Once I
gave her a hundred copies and told her to give them out. She did
begrudgingly. She didn't understand why she couldn't keep them for
herself.
Bud. Your Aunt Rose came to you in a dream because she thinks you
have forgotten about her in your daily life. You need to vocally talk to
her when you are alone. She will hear you.
I have hardly forgotten Aunt Rose. I think about her all the time. It
was something else. But it was nice seeing her and seeing that she doesn't
need that cursed walker any more. Of course she didn't use it with me. I
used to make her walk being supported by my arm. She did surprisingly well
and it helped her keep her muscle tone at the same time. And it was good
to see she didn't need those glasses, either.
She used to drive me nuts hiding her glasses and then telling me
someone came in the night and stole them. Between the reading glasses and
the seeing glasses and her "pocketbook" it is a miracle that I
didn't go to the nut house in those first two years. She was an expert at
hiding things in her room. No matter how good we got at finding what she
hid, she was able to get us every now and then. Usually it would become a
joint effort and between three of us - Sue, Sharyn, and myself, we would
figure it out. But it wasn't easy. The old girl kept us hopping and I
always believed that she got immense enjoyment out of it.
Mr. Beck. I got so much enjoyment and a feeling of peace reading
your article about the dream you had about your Aunt Rose. For her to
visit you like she did, she must have truly loved and cared about you. You
should be gratified to know that a human soul, after they have passed to a
much more wonderful place would take the time to come back to communicate
with you. You were blessed by her and our God. Give thanks for what you
have been given.
I do and thank you.
Bud, It was Aunt Rose. The last time I saw the two of you together
was in Olean at Off Track Betting. She was having a ball handicapping her
horses. She was ninety-four then. You took her next door and bought her a
whiskey and she went through the racing form like a pro. As I remember she
won that day and won big! I couldn't help thinking to myself that I hope
that if I live to be anywhere near that old I have someone like you to
take me to places that I like and want to go and are fun for me - like OTB.
She loved you. That was plain to see. It was her and you should be
grateful she cared enough to stop by and take time out from that big Race
Track in the sky to say hello.
Yep! She liked the ponies. It was tough for me to get her to make any
bet larger than two dollars at first. She always won! It wasn't until that
I was betting her horses and winning big that she got with it. She would
never teach me her system. That she kept for herself and took it to that
big Race Track in the sky so she can keep her streak going. The last horse
I won on was Mike Snyder's Lost My Marbles and that was Derby Day.
There are so many more. All of them so warm and kind. Thank you all.
There is not a doubt in my mind that Aunt Rose in fact did visit me
yesterday morning. It was good to see her, too.
Comments are welcome at editor@mlrmag.com.
JULY 31, 2K
PUBLISHERS NOTE: I apologize for any inconvenience today in accessing the site. It was
a technical problem at the host. I am looking into changing hosts so this never happens
again.
Was it a dream?
Good morning. It is 66.4 degrees at 6:09 A.M. Something is up with the server, I
can’t get my e-mail and I can’t get on the web. So, I will write my column
locally until they perform whatever they feel they need to do and then I will post this.
And that isn’t all bad. It will give me some time to sort out what just happened only
an hour ago.
It has been one of those hot and muggy nights when you need the ceiling fan just to
make things bearable – unless of course you have central air. I don’t. By two
this morning I was hot and so was Rocky. We left the bedroom and went out to the living
room where we both napped in our favorite places. Me, in my chair with the television on;
and Rocky, next to me in my chair.
It took awhile for me to drift off to sleep. I surfed the satellite trying to find a
movie. I checked out the news to find out what was happening in the world. I even watched
an old Twilight Zone for awhile. Finally, I settled on the History Channel and
drifted off to sleep.
I dream and when I dream, I generally remember what I was dreaming about. This morning
was no exception. I dreamt about my grandson playing with me and talking in words and
sentences. That made sense to me. He had just spent 48 hours with us and was the center of
our attention the whole weekend. I filmed at least ten to twenty minutes of him each day.
Then I woke for a few minutes and switched the station to a Clint Eastwood movie. The
Killing Pool and the first of three murders had just occurred. I fell back to sleep
almost immediately. Clint Eastwood has that effect on me.
That was when I started to dream about Sharyn and me in our house. I knew I was in our
house because I got up from the chair I was sleeping in and walked down the hall to the
bedrooms.
Sharyn was in one of the bedrooms cleaning. A bed was in the center of the room and she
was to my left working in a closet. The only kicker in this dream is we have no room like
that in our house. I was looking into the room from a doorway that would have been where a
wall should be and on the wall where the doorway should have been, it was a solid wall.
The room was supposed to be the one that Aunt Rose occupied for four years, but it
wasn’t. It was different.
Still, somehow I knew this was Aunt Rose’s room. It was a dream and in dreams we
all have artistic license to change anything we choose. Isn’t that what dreams are
all about anyway?
I looked away for a moment. When I looked back Aunt Rose was standing in the corner
directly across from the doorway where I was. Sharyn was still to my left and still
talking to me about something. That was when I said her name.
"Aunt Rose," I said. "How are you?"
She smiled at me. That was when I noticed that she had all of her own teeth, not the
dentures she used to wear. And, she was not wearing glasses. And even though she still
appeared to be old, her face had a glow to it and she was standing perfectly erect without
the aid of a walker or a cane. She appeared to be perfectly healthy and judging by the
smile she was wearing, happy, too.
"I’m fine, darling," she said back to me. "How have you been?
"Fine," I said to her. "Just fine."
"Oh Harold," she said. "You look fine. I am so happy for you."
Sharyn saw Rose, too. She began talking to her and Rose was laughing and talking back.
Sharyn wanted to know if she was happy where she was. Rose indicated that she was and said
that she was with her Mamma every day and her Mamma’s sisters, her aunts.
"It is so nice to be with my Mamma again," she said. "How is my
friend?" she asked me.
"Which friend is that?" I asked her.
"The one who used to take me places," she said obviously meaning Sue.
"She’s fine," I said.
"Has she found another job?" Rose asked me. "I hope she has. She was
such a good person and she took such good care of me. And you and Sharyn did, too,"
she said. "You gave me so much love. You don’t know how much I really appreciate
what you did for me."
"Thank you," I said. "Sue is fine. She is going to work at Parkview when
it opens next month," I answered.
"Tell her I said hello," she told me. "And say hello to all my friends
at the Senior Center, too. Especially Miss Phyllis and Miss Lindenhauser." (Rose
always called Linda Steinhauser Miss Lindenhauser.) "Do they still have the
Senior Band?" she asked.
"I will," I told her. "And as far as I know the Senior Band is still
there. I haven’t been to the center since I lost the election."
"Oh Harold," she said to me. "Those people liked you. Just because I
don’t go, you should go and at least say hi from time to time. Promise me you
will."
I told her I would and then in the back of my mind I heard Sharyn in the kitchen making
the morning coffee. I woke out of the dream that seemed like it had actually happened.
"Oh God," I said as I woke and then I began telling Sharyn about it.
"It seemed so real," I said. "She was there and she was good. She was
wearing that old duster of hers but it was bright and it was clean." (I was
talking about the old dress she used to wear. We thought she wore the same one every day,
but we were wrong. When we brought her clothes after she had moved here, we discovered she
had five of them, one for every day of the week. And she would switch them off, washing
the dirty one in the sink and hanging it to dry in the steps that led to the basement of
her house.) "And she was happy. She was beaming the way she smiled and the room
seemed so bright."
Sharyn was still waking up. She didn’t have much to say about it. She just sipped
her coffee and listened to me go on and on about it. And as I walked back here to begin
writing this morning, I asked myself the question that I am asking you.
Was it a dream? Or, did Rose actually come and pay me a visit while I was dreaming just
to let me know that she was fine?
Rose died here in this house. Neither Sharyn nor I have ever thought anything about
that because Rose was a kind and loving person. After years of living by herself with
little to no contact with anyone, she came here to live and suddenly had a family. For
four years there were children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews, holidays, birthdays, and
even immediate family with which to fight. She shared our lives and was a major part of
each and every day. Why wouldn’t she want to pay a visit if she could?
What do you think? Your comments are welcome at editor@mlrmag.com
JULY 29 & 30, 2K
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