Saturday, January 28, 2012

Early risers

I took the long way home today on one of my favorite "No Winter Maintenance" gravel roads and was surprised to see an extremely early skunk cabbage sprouting in a sheltered marshy area. The daffodils and crocus are about an inch high in the back yard, and the snowdrops are already blooming outside my back door. Now if only we'd get a proper snowstorm...

History

Perhaps you remember my post a few weeks ago about how Lone Eagle Road, in West Bradford, is so named because back in 1928 the famous aviator Charles Lindbergh made an emergency landing nearby; "Lone Eagle" was the name of his plane.
Shortly after the item ran, I got a message from my loyal reader Tom Cummings, who had just turned four years old in 1928 but remembers the incident well and had some photographs of the plane that he wanted to show me.
I went over to visit him in his Mortonville home on Wednesday afternoon and came back with two stories, and I'm not sure which is better.
Mr. Cummings said he and his mother took the horse and buggy to the train station to pick up the mail and heard the news about Lindbergh's landing (getting the latest local news at the post office; some things never change!). They immediately drove over to the pasture, where people had had gathered from far and wide (many of those who brought their cars got stuck in the mud) to saw the silver plane.
Lindbergh and his passenger, his attorney Harry Breckenridge, had been forced to land in heavy fog and hit a fence rail while landing (Mr. Cummings said souvenir-hunters quickly snatched up the splintered rail). They spent the night at a nearby house with the Elkinton family, and a few local men were assigned to keep an eye on the plane overnight.
He said before Lindbergh took off the next day, he had all the kids line up and shook hands with them. He said he has tried to identify which boy is him in a photo that he has ("I tried a magnifying glass and everything"), but unfortunately he can't. As Lindbergh flew off, he dipped his wings to the crowd.
Mr. Cummings was kind enough to take me over to the site, on which the Chestnut Ridge housing development is being built. I wonder whether the new residents are aware of what happened in their back yards back in 1928.
And the second story?

Well, that would be Mr. Cummings himself, a widower, a local history buff and a member of the Greatest Generation. He was in the Marine Corps during World War II, fought at Iwo Jima in the Pacific ("I didn't think I'd make it out alive," he recalled), and earned two purple hearts, which he keeps in a glass case with his military ID card and other memorabilia.
I turned to him and said, "You are a hero, sir." It was an absolute honor and a privilege to meet him. And next he has promised to tell me about the storm that devastated Ercildoun!

Friday, January 27, 2012

Woolly bully

For his birthday I gave a young relative a really neat book about the Abominable Snowman, aka the Yeti, aka Big Foot.
I have since regretted the purchase.
"Tilda," he announced the other day, "You're a Sasquatch!"
I was taken aback and protested that I'm not hairy, I don't climb trees, and my feet are size 7-1/2 (38 European).
So? he objected. I could still be a female Yeti. The key point, he said, is that "you live out there in the country!"
I turned to his father, but he was no help at all. In fact, giving a portentous nod, he turned to the page that had a map of sightings in North America and pointed, with a flourish, to the Sasquatch icon located RIGHT OVER UNIONVILLE.

Goes with the territory

On Wednesday a new woman showed up for a class that I go to at the Jennersville Y, and the teacher was delighted. She welcomed the new participant and asked if she had any injuries that she, the teacher, should watch out for.
The woman said she didn't, and explained that though she's an avid rider she feels as if she needs to work on her core muscles.
"Wait a minute," said the teacher, who knows a thing or two about equestrians. "You're a horse person and you don't have any injuries?! I don't think so!"
"Oh," said the new student with a chuckle. "Well, yeah. I thought you meant a real injury, like, had I broken my spine or something."

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Impasse

The West Marlborough Township Zoning Hearing Board gathered at the township hall on Tuesday, Jan. 24, but it wasn't a very long meeting. The township's attorney, the Whip Tavern's attorney and the attorney for some aggrieved Springdell neighbors agreed to postpone the hearing for 90 days so that the parties have more time to try to reach an agreement.
"All counsel are in agreement," said the township's attorney, Dwight Yoder, "which might be a first for this matter."
This is the latest chapter in a long-running and complicated disagreement involving the Whip, which attracts a big crowd and, the neighbors say, diminishes their quality of life by producing parking issues, littering, noise and so forth. Most recently the neighbors appealed the township's ruling that the Whip could use the house next door, which it owns, for business purposes. The Zoning Board ruled in the neighbors' favor, and the Whip is now appealing that ruling to Chester County Court of Common Pleas. The Whip also has asked the township to amend its zoning rules to give the Whip more flexibility to provide parking for its patrons.
The new hearing before the Zoning Hearing Board is set for April 18 at 7 p.m.

Fun with Science

An obituary for Norman Edmund brought back some happy childhood memories. Mr. Edmund founded Edmund Scientific, a store in Barrington, N.J., that was a science-fair geek's dream. I still have a prism that I bought there as a kid, and I wish I still had the plastic disc with heat-sensitive liquid crystals that would change color when you touched the back of the disc. They had collections of minerals, some that glowed under black light; all kinds of mirrors and lenses, with various powers, diameters and curvatures; weather instruments like anemometers; and real military-surplus spy scopes and aviation devices. I LOVED the place.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Ink

At lunch today I met a woman who said she enjoyed my recent story about a friend who begged the surgeon taking out her appendix to spare her elaborate abdominal tattoo. My lunch pal is also a health care professional and said she sees a great many patients who are heavily tattooed.
What she can't figure out is when one of them informs her that he or she is "scared of needles."