Reflecting On Change

"For time and the world do not stand still. Change is the law of life."

John F. Kennedy

My Grandfather wrote often about change in his weekly "Golly" newspaper column. I think he would appreciate this quote, though he wasn't a big fan of President Kennedy or most any Democrat!

Some of Golly's observations:

From 1952:

How times change!

Not so many years ago the agricultural crops of Potter County were pretty much limited to potatoes, oats, buckwheat and the like.

Within the last few years, hundreds of acres of peas and snap beans have been grown for canning concerns and frozen food companies.

Now broiler chicks are being reared in great numbers.

But there seems to be no end of the change. This year hundreds of acres will be planted to cucumbers. It has been found that this fruit of the vine yields tons to the acre on the higher lands of the county and will prove a profitable crop.

Indications are that we can all get pickles or pickled plenty.

And strawberries – Yeah, Golly is told that this is natural soil to produce that delicious fruit. There will no doubt be large strawberry acreage within a season or two.

Up to now no one has appeared to recommend a crop of grapefruit and oranges. 

This diversified crop plan seems like a good one. If all your eggs are in one basket and you stub your toes – Oh well!

From 1957:

Times change – and how!

When Golly was a kid – long, long time ago – a haircut at the barber shop cost 15 cents. Fifteen cents was real money.

There was a fellow employed in the livery barn, a good-hearted guy, who would use the horse clippers and peel the hair off a boy's pate for free.

Along about the arrival of summer, we were saving our pennies - and an occasional nickel - for firecrackers and ice cream on the Fourth. Money saved on a haircut was a big boost in the horde.

Way back then men had to pay 15 cents for a haircut and 10 cents more for a shave.

Who could imagine the time would come in 1957 when a shave would be a big dollar and a haircut another whole dollar.

Yeah, times change.

From 1965:

Sounds – even they change with the years

I have commented on the difference of the rather pleasing sound of the hand lawn mower and the raucous noise of the power machine.

Woodsmen years ago used a crosscut saw, and it produced rhythm and melody, but now it's a gasoline machine –  one that whines and roars so loudly it may be heard a long distances.

Time was when horse drawn vehicles, heavily loaded, passed quietly along roads but now the sound of a big truck climbing a heavy grade, and the false explosions of some of them on down grade.

Styles – even of noise – change.

From 1963:

How times change –

Golly recalls sixty years ago investing in a hand numbering machine while publishing the Cross Fork News. That small bit of equipment cost $14 and mind you, that was real money in my small printing office.

The thrill of such a machine in that day was greater than the recent purchase of a paper cutter by the Enterprise, even though the new machine to cut paper cost over $3,000.

That seems to be the difference between 1903 and 1963.

Wonder what sixy years more – 2023 – will be like!

   

Newsprint

The blog post (posted on my blog here) began like this:

This morning, on Facebook - today's substandard substitute for a morning newspaper on your doorstep - these words appeared on a glowing screen, such a far cry from the crackling newsprint of old.

"Smile on, good friends, smile on in spite of it all, for your smile is a sign to others, a life not beaten down, a hope still resilient, a love at work, your smile speaks all that and more, so smile on, in your courage and conviction, smile today that others may smile tomorrow." -- from the writing of Bishop Steven Charleston

But then, my months of writing practice took me here:

Newsprint - does anyone even know about newsprint anymore?

Newsprint, not quite white, not tan, more on the yellowy side, the color of the wood from whence it came. I wonder if there's a Sherwin Williams color swatch named newsprint?

Newsprint, hefty enough to accept ink on both sides but flimsy too. 

Olfactory like so many memories, it's dry, dusty, absorbing not just the ink but the smokiness of the print shop. Cigarette smoke, the lead pots, and the gritty stuff that sat next to the sink to clean inkstained hands.

Newsprint in heavy rolls arrived in the alley that ran next to rambling old newspaper building on a big truck, likely from Hammermill or International Paper, but all who could remember that are gone now.

Those days the newspaper was printed in house, the huge machine taking up much of that rambling building. When there wasn't enough paper on the roll to handle the press run, the end rolls were pulled off and used for other purposes.

Of course, in a print shop, every scrap of paper was used in some way. It was recycling before it was a thing. Trimmings from printing jobs made into notepads, sold at the counter for a dime. Jobs that were mis-printed still had one good side for copy paper or in-house notepads.

And so it was with the newsprint end rolls, cut into 8 1/2 x 11 size for copy paper, used by the reporters who fed it into trusty Underwood typewriters on their scarred desktops.

Cut to size for the proof press - for those long strips delivered to the proofreader to read and mark up for correction.

End rolls were also offered up for sale, popular with churches for table coverings, and with Scout leaders for paper crafts. Sometimes our bulky Christmas gifts were wrapped in newsprint. 

And the old man who sat at the big rolltop desk wrote copy in his distinctive script with a thick-leaded pencil on newsprint.

Some of those pages, brittle, yellowed, some chewed by silverfish or mice, are with me now. And I've set my computer to the typewriter font  - Courier - as words, his words, glow on the screen.

 

 

Loose Boards

This morning, on Facebook - today's substandard substitute for a morning newspaper on your doorstep - these words appeared on a glowing screen, such a far cry from the crackling newsprint of old.

"Smile on, good friends, smile on in spite of it all, for your smile is a sign to others, a life not beaten down, a hope still resilient, a love at work, your smile speaks all that and more, so smile on, in your courage and conviction, smile today that others may smile tomorrow."* 

And there it was again, what wise writer friend Jeannette Buck described as the loose board of grief. Cue Bugs Bunny warning his fellow Looney Tunes compatriots of that board only to make one mis-step - SMACK!!!

I miss her.

Above is the post I intended to write - the post that came to mind when I read Steven Charleston's morning inspiration, celebrating the smile that defined my mother. 

And I began and finished but here's where my wild mind took off - that writing mind that I've been training in years (gulp!!) of writing practice.

This morning, on Facebook - today's substandard substitute for a morning newspaper on your doorstep - these words appeared on a glowing screen, such a far cry from the crackling newsprint of old.

Newsprint - does anyone even know about newsprint anymore?

.... you're going to have to wait a bit to read where my wild mind went!

Hands Off!

I stood by the side of busy Historic Route 66, raising my Hands Off Public Lands sign, and watched as a Hummer lumbered by, a hand raised with the middle finger out the open window. The crowd flashed peace signs back. The woman leaning on her walker next to me muttered "That man flipped us off. First I've seen today. What an asshole!" And the cars streamed by, horns blaring, people cheering, flags of all stripes and colors waving in the breeze. And I felt hope.

Did a double take when I saw this guy
and then asked him for a photo capture!

A passionate American veteran

Some even pulled familiar
hats out of the mothballs!

... and there's this plaintive one
that really hits home for me

There were quite a few of
these signs ... and I thought of
my mother and her memories of 1939 Germany
as a cautionary tale for 2024

Denton Hill State Park

from 2021

From Potter Enterprise, 1959

The magnificent lodge that served skiers  during the heyday of Denton Hill State Park will be the setting for Potter County Creative Council's first concert of 2025. 

Denton Hill State Park was a big deal for Potter County from its inception until it was shuttered in 2014. W.D. Fish shared this in his weekly newspaper column in 1960:

Times change – and how!

The song of the cross-cut saw and the singing sound of the axe in the hands of the lumbermen may still echo very faintly in the Nine Mile Valley.

If they do, they were lost entirely over the weekend by the laughter and happy shouts of the gaily clad skiers who came to Denton Hill State Park.

Golly wonders what may have been the reaction of the late Harve Root, Bill Hart and Bill Phelps could they have seen in their lumbering days what is transpiring in the Nine Mile in 1960.

The lumber camps are gone. There are left but slight traces of the log railroad that took the hemlock logs out of the valley to the huge sawmills at Galeton. Where lumbermen left only barren mountains, burned and blackened over after the timber was removed, the mountainsides have reforested themselves.

Deer in numbers and occasionally a black bear are at home in the woods once more; song birds are plentiful in season and bees hum and gather honey from the flowers. Newcomers to the deep valley amid the lofty hills are beavers and wild turkeys and the not-overly-welcome opossum.

Instead of crews peeling bark, cutting logs, and men with teams hauling them to the landings, Gobbler's Knob now looks down upon a joyous scene of gaiety. A ribbon of concrete replaces the old dirt trail, traveled only by horses or men on food in the days before the advent of the 'horseless carriage' or the 'benzine buggy'.

Progress – How dreary life would be without progress.

And here we are in 2025 sharing the vision of the folks breathing new life into the old park (Denton Go LLC). This from their website.

At Denton Go, we envision transforming Denton Hill State Park into a premier year-round destination for outdoor enthusiasts. By enhancing multi-use trail development and access, improving the lodge, and revitalizing the downhill skiing infrastructure, we aim to offer diverse recreational opportunities that cater to both residents and visitors. Our commitment to fostering four-season activities is designed to not only enrich the park's natural beauty but also to stimulate the local economy, supporting nearby communities and businesses in the Pennsylvania Wilds region. Our team, deeply rooted in the local area, brings extensive expertise in business, mountain recreation, and hospitality to ensure a vibrant and sustainable future for Denton Hill State Park.

My grandfather and I share more about Denton Hill State Park in this blog post from 2021.

April Fool

The First of April

What, Spring! With a day like this?
With air so damp, so cold, so raw;
With snow in sight, and ice
On ponds so slow to thaw?

It snows, it blows, it rains.
What garden can be made?
Yet I sit and wait, perchance,
With seed and hoe and spade.

A robin in the cherry tree
Just sits with drooping wing,
He stares at me and chirps
In plaintive tones for spring.

So with the ground too wet
And with the air so cool,
We know that it's not spring
It's only, only– April Fool.

by Eli Bartoo, published in The Potter Enterprise, 1964