the Poconos

At some point in my youth, my parents discovered the Poconos. They found a resort called Mo No Mo Nock and got in the habit of going there for a few days every summer, often with Dad's golf buddies. Occasionally the kids went with them. I remember playing skittles, hanging out at the pool, and I remember they had a social director who engineered events like square dance night. I actually spent Woodstock weekend as an unhappy youth at Mo No Mo Nock.

I was sitting by the pool one day when I was almost kidnapped. A couple came up to me with their two daughters and asked if I'd like to spend the day exploring with them. My mother headed them off at the pass.
The last thing she needed was for poor Mr. Mustache to get involved with a strange family on what was supposed to be a family vacation. Later Mother said, "What is this, the Catskills?"

Mount Airy Lodge was the more expensive cousin of Mo No Mo Nock. Although my parents were too cheap to stay there, I remember my mother telling me they went there for lunch (I was in college by then). "Oh the clothes!" my mother commented on what she saw at Mount Airy Lodge. Apparently she was impressed by the ostentatious apparel worn by the diners.

Today, after forty three years, I finally went back to the Poconos. Route 611 is rather tacky and commercialized now. Driving up to Mount Airy Lodge to lose a few quarters, I came upon a Spanish diner. I ordered pollo guisado. The lady asked if I wanted plain rice or the bean laden rice next to it. I said "con frijoles". I am always happy to impress people with my high school Spanish.

Mount Airy Lodge is very pretty in a rustic parkish way, however I doubt my mother would comment on "the clothes" today. We live in a more informal time and people with real money don't go to the Poconos, unless, perhaps, they are skiing in the winter. The denizens of the casino were mostly seniors who apparently arrive by bus. I lost twenty dollars and went home. I stopped on the way at the outlet mall and bought a pair of leather gloves. This time I promise I won't lose them.

So the Poconos survive but it's different than the good olde days. Anyone up for a game of skittles?

Pennsylvania voter ID laws

It's very significant that in Pennsylvania, Id's will not be required to vote. This should help the Democrats since they are less likely to have appropriate identifications or are too disorganized to produce one at the polls.

Mary Republican has a maid to watch the kids when she is at bible studies. On the way home she can vote and produce a driver's license and a passport.

Under the voter ID law:
Mary Democrat arrives at the polls five minutes before the polls close. Her kids are left in her car and are making a lot of noise. Mary Democrat gets distracted and  leaves her pocketbook in the car. It has all her identification and by the time she realizes she doesn't have it she can't vote because the polls are closed.
With the new ruling:
Mary Democrat can vote because the won't ask for ID.

The Presidential debates

One of the nice things about the Presidential debates is that, because they are live and unscripted, you get a look at what the candidates are like in real life. Judging from the recent debates I now have the personalities of the two men figured out. 

Romney is the pushy guy who bawls out his caddy when he's at the golf course. At the 19th hole he complains because they put too many onions on his sandwich. He's not a generous tipper. 

At the debate Obama reminded me of a high school history teacher telling the students that class participation is 25% of the grade. As a teacher he is liked by the students, partly because he also coaches basketball.  He is a tough grader, but he can be dissuaded by a vociferous parent to up the grade of a taciturn student. He is a good tipper when he remembers. 

Smart phone use

Half of all adults in the United States have smart phones or tablets. I am not one of them. I have fallen behind. I also don't have HDTV, text on my phone or have a flat screen TV. I used to keep lists of things that one needed in order to be a successful American. Here is a synopsis by year:
1970: A phone, a stereo, a car, a television set.
1980: Add a VCR, a microwave oven and a cassette player.
1990: Add a CD player and a computer.
2000: Add a DVD player, a notebook computer, a kayak, a cellphone and a house.
2010: Add  HDTV television and a GPS.
2012: Add a tablet and a smart phone. Scratch the cassette player.


Golly, you never catch up.

Rhubarb pie

"Beepop a ruooparb rhubarb pie". I finally ate rhubarb pie. I bought a pie at the Griggstown Quail Farm and produce market in scenic Griggstown New Jersey. Yes a series of serendipitous events has brought me to  Griggstown and made me a regular at the Tigers's Tale on Route 206. One never knows what roads may be traversed in life.

After years of listening to the Prairie Home Companion for years and hearing about the virtues of rhubarb pie my curiosity has been satiated. I enjoyed it, to a point, but don't know if I would have it again. Next I'll have to try genuine quail pot pie. 

Editor's note: A reader pointed out that the previous picture looks like a cherry pie. This photo looks like rhubarb to me. 

The Life of Brian

 When the Life of Brian came out, nobody burned the British embassy. How come?

Hobo Jack

One of the nice things about cable television is that occasionally when there is nothing on the regular channels or you've already seen the show, you can flip channels. Usually you come up with Gossip Girls or a religious show in Spanish but occasionally you come across a real gem. Monday night, for example, I discovered American Pickers, which was featuring an old codger named Hobo Jack. Hobo Jack lives "off the grid" in the woods, surrounded by collectible junk. Signs, old carburetors, 19th century lamps, etc. They are in barns that are hard to get into or scattered around the countryside.

Like many people we know, he is reluctant to part with anything. He always has plans for an item he is "going to use". Of course, we know that he will never rebuild that motorcycle or build a house out of elk antlers but he thinks he will. They do give him good prices for what he is willing to part with. He's not dumb, just a bit countrified.

The world needs more people like Hobo Jack. At least cable tv could use more of them.


Editor's note: I'm waiting for someone to tell me that Hobo Jack is a phony. He lives in a condo in Springfield and is really a retired professor from Cornell. He made a fortune in private equities, and sells stuff on E-Bay under a different name.