THE ELEPHANT

Nature has left us with many interesting designs to enjoy. One of these designs is part of the mountain in the Doubling Gap area. If viewed from above, the ridge of the mountain takes the shape of a backwards S. The southern face of this S is visible from the Cumberland County side of the ridge. This ridge when viewed from different parts of the valley, takes on the appearance of an elephant lying down. There are places where it is more obvious than others that it looks like said elephant. I'm not sure I got the best view but for a hazy day, it was the best available. On top of where the head appears, was the location of a light beacon in the early days of aviation. This light aided in showing pilots the flight path. Long gone from the ridge top, the flight path used by planes years ago is still used today with more modern devices. The ridge has seen several plane crashes over the years. There is still some wreckage to see on the back of this view, or the north face.

We always enjoyed seeing the elephant when we were kids and the kid in me still enjoys it now.

THIS OLD HOUSE

Our parents moved into this house in early 1943. This is where the four darlings of the neighborhood grew up. Naw, I don't believe that either. If anything happened in the neighborhood, we got blamed for it. We didn't do everything we got blamed for but there was more that we got away with. There were four of us, three boys and a girl. The girl was the youngest and I am the oldest. How our parents kept their sanity, I will never know.

There were twelve rooms in the house plus a basement, an attic and a balcony. If we opened some doors, there was a race track downstairs and one upstairs, going from one side of the house to the other. This was in the days of hardwood floors, so the races left some black marks on the floor, which meant red marks on our rears. The hallway to the bathroom was narrow and just the right length for a bowling alley. We started with metal tobacco cans for pins and a baseball for the bowling ball. Somewhere, we got a set of duck pins and used a softball. It wasn't long before the old plaster in the wall started to crumble. Then there was nothing but the lathe strips showing. Dad finally set a mirror at the end of the bowling alley and no one wanted to bust the mirror.

One game I still remember was when we turned out all the lights and tried to sneak around the house. Dad could move everywhere without making a noise. We could walk the same places and make a board squeak or bump a piece of furniture. As quiet as we may have been while sneaking around, Dad would reach out , grab one of us and go "Awrgh" There was more than once that we had to go put on dry pants to continue the game

The back yard was the center of neighborhood activity. We drew lines to mark out a baseball or football field. We held a circus from time to time and charged a nickel to get in. Never did get rich. Dad had to cover the windows at the back of the house when he got tired of replacing broken windows from foul balls. The upstairs windows got covered with heavy wire and the downstairs windows with wood.

Mother lived there until she was the age of 87. She had the place packed. Can you say PACKED? She never threw anything away. We gave away old clothes to Shippensburg University for their fashion archives. The local library and home schooled kids got several loads of books. The rest were sold to six different book dealers. The Newville Historical Society got a lot of material for research and display.

There are still a million stories hiding in the walls of this old house. We may come back for another visit later.

MY BEST FRIEND

My best friend for nearly twelve years has been my faithful dog Bear. Where ever I went, he followed. He was just a ball of black fur with a white chest when he adopted me at the age of six weeks. A mix of Lab and Newfoundland, he grew to 150 pounds. A gentle giant who tolerated unknown numbers of cats over the years and grand kids climbing or sleeping on him. If I went out the door without him, he laid down right there and waited for my return. When I lost my voice to cancer, he learned hand signals from me and did what was asked of him. I could not have asked for a more faithful friend.

As happens to all good things, there is an end. Bear lost control of the muscles in his back end, quit eating and then lost his bladder control. One of the hard decisions I had to make was having him put to sleep. He is now resting in a pasture, along a shaded fence row. It is not the same without him here. I didn't know I could do chores around the house or eat without him.

The lady next door handed me a card tonight and in it she said,"God blessed you with a true friend when he gave you Bear." How very true.

I know right now he is laying right inside the Pearly Gates waiting for me.

NEWVILLE FOUNTAIN FESTIVAL

Some people consider growing up in a small town boring and back woodsy. But it was a wonderful experience. The town fountain is in the center of Newville and we grew up about a block away. The fountain provided a lot of fun but it also got us in a lot of trouble. When we were kids, there were goldfish in the water during warm months. It was great fun to take a swim in the fountain or go fishing for the gold fish. What great memories that thought brings back.
All good things come to an end. There was a group of older ladies who took care of the fountain, the fish and the flowers in the big urns. It was their mission in life to watch the fountain and chase off any one caught there. And boy, did we get caught!
One of the problems with living in a small town is the fact that everyone knows everybody else. Mother would get a phone call about her three boys playing in the fountain. She knew before we got home where we had been. Being the oldest, I got more blame than my two younger brothers. If calling Mother didn't work, Dad got the news. He worked in the post office and knew everybody within miles. Since he walked to work and went right by the fountain, it was easy for the guardians of the fountain to stop him and tell on us. Dealing with Dad was much worse than dealing with Mother.
About fourteen years ago, it was discovered that the fountain would soon be one hundred years old. Having a celebration sounded like a good idea and thus the fountain festival was born. It becomes a reunion for those of us who grew up in Newville. There are people I only see once a year and that is at the festival. Some old friends show up every couple of years and it seems that someone I haven't seen in a long time always shows up every year. It is a nostalgic event that I enjoy very much.
Newville may be boring to some people but I am glad I grew up where I did, when I did.

WEEKEND AT CAMP

A lot of people seem to have a favorite place where they go for peace and quiet. My favorite is the hunting camp I belong to. The camp is north of Snow Shoe, PA. I describe it as being 18 miles from nowhere, which is fairly accurate. The camp is about a mile from the state road, down in a hollow between two ridges. No electricity, no running water, no telephone, no cell phone service. Absolutely peaceful. Being so far from civilization, the night sky is full of stars. The modern world has so many lights burning all night that stars are hard to find. At camp, it is amazing to see how many stars light up the night sky.
We normally have two work weekends a year, thus my reason for being there recently. We painted two sides of the camp, cut the grass, cleaned the living room ceiling and installed a shower. We did what? No electricity and no running water, we put in a shower. Are we nuts? No, there are creative people in our midst. There is a tank that we can pour hot water into, then turn on the pump to get water in the shower. Power is supplied by portable generator. One of our projects for the fall work party will be to find the spring that is on the ridge behind camp. One of the members who is in his 70's says he thinks he knows where it is. I sure hope he remembers. Having to carry more water to supply the shower, will keep two guys busy for hours.
The northwest corner of the camp is the end of a bear's territory. He marks it every year with claw marks and we paint over them every summer. The marks weren't too high in the beginning but now they are as high as I can reach and I am 6'2". Do we ever see him during bear season? NO! He showed up during deer season several years ago and found some left over pizza, then sat on a big rock about five yards from camp and had a meal. There was fresh snow on the ground, so it was easy to track his movements, including his seat on the rock.
We can sit at camp and watch a variety of wildlife pass through our open area. Bear, deer, squirrels, chipmunks, porcupine, skunks, fox, coyote. There are elk in the area but we haven't seen any at camp yet. I have heard some bugling, though.
At some point during our stay in camp, we manage to find ourselves in a local town at one of the clubs. A lot of the people remember us, even though we don't get to town very often during the year. What did we do on the last visit that we are remembered so easily? If it was something embarrassing, I'm glad I forgot what it was. One of our camp members has an addiction for larger women. The bigger, the better, according to him. He isn't all that big, himself, so I'm not sure that he couldn't get hurt by the NFL sized women he chases. If anyone in the club is up dancing, it is him. Guess he has found his mission while at camp.
Is camp remote? Is it quiet? Is it peaceful? Three yeses. I sleep more soundly in my bunk at camp than anywhere else. Even if I don't go there to hunt, I will go there to relax and keep the fire going and the camp warm.

RELAY FOR LIFE

This past weekend, the Cancer Society held their annual relay for life at Carlisle High School stadium. This is an event to raise money for cancer research. There were people of all ages and sizes there, doing everything from attending as a survivor of cancer, walking for money, helping in various stands or just being a cheerleader for others. The whole event took on a carnival atmosphere. There were tents all over the stadium, campers, people coming in carrying coolers, sleeping bags, blankets and cots. The relay lasted for 24 hours, hence the need for a place to put a weary body. There were walking teams from businesses, churches, schools and families. People were seeing old friends and hugs were plentiful. The crowd kept swelling as time neared for the start. Survivors were first on the agenda.
As a survivor, we were asked to state our name into a microphone, what type of cancer we had and how long we had survived since discovery. There was a lady I remember being a survivor for 29 years and one who had survived three different types of cancer. There is always someone else who has things worse than we do. After the survivors were on the track, all the people in the stands rose to their feet and cheered for us. Talk about getting a lump in your throat!
The walk started with the survivors and people came out of the stands and from the sidelines and joined everyone on the track. People were in a festive mood and spirits were high. I wondered how festive everyone would be in 24 hours from then?
There were former co-workers, old friends, neighbors and family there. There were survivors there who I had no idea they had been diagnosed with cancer. This was the first time I had attended this event but it won't be the last.
There was a dinner for survivors and a guest. My highlight of the meal was getting my cap signed by channel 27 weatherman, Chuck Rhodes. The second highlight was chocolate cake with peanut butter icing. UM!
At 9 pm, the luminaries , which circled the entire track, were lit. The name of each survivor whose name was on a luminary, along with all those who had lost their fight with cancer was read over the pa system. Quite an impressive ceremony, considering how many names were read aloud.
What impressed me was the amount of people who were there walking to raise money for a cancer cure. They may or may not have known anyone with cancer but that didn't dampen their enthusiasm for walking.
Thank you very much to all of you who took part in this event or pledged money for walkers or a luminary. Your kindness is appreciated.

MILITARY SCHOOL

Our mother was a school teacher, as was her mother and one of her sisters, so education was important in our family. Things were going fairly well until I got to 11th grade, then the wheels started to fall off my wagon. Classes were starting to show failing grades, skipping school was a regular event, fishing was more important, as well as drinking, smoking and fighting. One day upon returning home, I found our big oval dining room table filled with school catalogs. Mother said "You're going to military school. Pick one and Carson Long isn't there, it's too close to home." You talk about getting hit between the eyes. WOW! Military schools were plentiful in the southern states during the 50's and 60's but weren't as popular in the north. What to expect? I had no idea except it didn't sound good.
To begin with, Rebels outnumbered us Yankees about 20 to 1. That made life a little harder, because the Civil War wasn't over as far as they were concerned. Walking down a corrider saying "Throw away your Dixie cups, the South will never rise again" was not a good choice. I soon found 25 Rebs that were willing to get me to change my tune.
Adjusting to life away from home was a rough road, as much of a wise guy that I was. My parents made me stick it out and I'm glad they did. I was not exactly a model cadet but I got good grades. If you got an excessive amount of demerits or did a bad thing, you had to spend your town leave time marching around the outside of the gymnasium with a rifle. There was an officer there to make certain we stayed in line and kept marching properly. My senior year, most of my town leave was spent with a rifle, marching round and round.
Despite my poor behavior, it was the best thing my parents could have done for me. I hated it there but realized the value when I got a little older.
There were 300 cadets attending school while I was there. We formed a tighter bond than most high school kids do, as we lived in the same building and were all together every day and night. There were boys there from all over the United States and from South America and Europe.
Homecoming at the old school is a bigger event than at most public schools. We return to the campus for a weekend in October and tell old stories till we know most by heart. One year, an old classmate asked why we remembered so much from our time there and in such detail? I said because we were at the peak of our learning ability while we were at school. We studied very hard, including a forced two hour study hall five nights a week and one of those nights was Saturday. We retained what we learned there, as well as things about our daily life. When rehashing old tales, some of them seem like they happened yesterday.
My mother saved my old uniforms but I don't know why. They didn't fit me for more than a year before they shrank too much. Itchy old wool uniforms, anyhow.
No matter how we felt at times, our parents always seemed to know best.