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Tales of a Third Grade Nothing:
A Lament
I’ve often
fantasized about traveling back in time, but with the added
benefit of today’s amenities at my disposal. I’ve dreamt of
revisiting childhood, wholly embracing that which decidedly
would have made the experience a better one. But usually said
fantasies are slathered with ambiguity, lacking both substance
and specificity relative to a given time frame on the continuum.
Till now. Now more than ever it is clear to me that I’d like to
relive that wondrous wedge of time spent as a third grader.
Of course, my
youngest charges are currently in the third grade, soaking up
the vat of wonderfulness contained therein. Aside from the grand
and glorious Land of Academia—peppered abundantly with
computers, Smartboards and insanely vibrant people—Thing One and
Thing Two have had the opportunity to gallivant hither and yon,
enjoying some of the most scrumptious field trips on the planet.
They’ve devoured infinitely engaging Read-a-thons and
assemblies, too, during which "We met The Fly Guy, Mom!" Oops,
maybe that was last year. They’ve attended spectacular book
fairs as well and participated in seamlessly orchestrated
Walk-a-thons—the celebrated yearly event that smacks of utter
chaos, but effectively harnesses kids’ boundless energy and
enthusiasm for the greater good. Needless to say, the rewards of
being a third grader are many and varied.
Indeed, let us
not forget the consummate joy of classroom parties, Activities
Day and RECESS—although in this day and age, the playground
equipment "…is wicked cool, Mom!" We had splintery
teeter-totters, by contrast. And a handful of swings that no one
wanted to relinquish. Ever. And a steely gray jungle gym that
was cold and unforgiving. So was the Maypole, with its whirling
tresses of thick chains, although it was deliciously perilous to
swing on said beast-of-a-thing.
Great
disparity, I’m told, exists even within the bathrooms of then
and now. The automatic toilets, sinks and paper towel dispensers
"...are entirely AWESOME, Mom! You should see ‘em!" Luxuries I
couldn’t begin to fathom so long ago.
That is not to
say there were no bells and whistles when I was in grade school,
but somehow my experience pales in comparison. We had no air
conditioning for starters. Instead, we had windows through which
wasps would enter, providing endless amusement and countless
disruptions throughout the month of May. We had no
fancy-schmancy computers either. Nor did we have Smartboards or
the Internet. Instead, there were blackboards. Great masses of
them, blanketing the walls of each and every classroom. And
chalk—there was an obscene profusion of chalk, spilling from
dusty wooden trays and teachers’ desk drawers. And fuzzy, felt
erasers. Longish, rubbery ones, too—the most prized benefit of
which was being chosen to clap those glorious erasers at the end
of each school day, right before the buses arrived and herds of
walkers were dismissed like cattle into the fields. The plume of
chalk dust alone made us heady with the feeling of
accomplishment and supreme importance. Then again, running to
the teachers’ lounge to fetch freshly mimeographed handouts, in
all their inky, stench-ridden glory, was deemed slightly
wonderful, too—as were the resultant purplish blotches we wore
on our fingertips with pride.
Never mind
today’s unspeakably efficient data bases, the ones that house
everything from class rank to lunch money and library arrears.
We endured the Dewey Decimal System. And card catalogs. And the
purely archaic nature of film projectors—the rhythmic drone of
which promised to lull us to sleep as seventh graders, thwarting
our every effort to attend to the grainy war documentaries
presented all too often. We carried actual milk money in our
pockets, too, or were charged with keeping track of an
infinitely tangible and less-than-tatter-proof lunch ticket for
an entire week. Oh, the horror!
Indeed, life
as a third grader in the here and now is better, methinks.
Planet Mom: It’s
where I live. Visit me there at
www.notesfromplanetmom.com and now at
www.notesfromplanetmom.blogspot.com too!

The House
Spouse
By Jerry Westbrook
Forever Endeavor
Some days our
mailbox, that spawning place for insincere greetings, bulges
with unsolicited junk mail. Come to think of it, I don't know
anyone who solicits junk mail. The poor box sighs in relief when
we pry the contents from its midsection. Hauling the stuff into
the house, the battle's only begun.
Unable to face
the endless stream, we toss the unwanted postal emissions onto a
To Sort Later pile. Not the best choice. The stuff multiplies
faster than rabbits on steroids. Too soon, the pile reaches
Everest proportions, leaning this way and that like a leaning
tower of, well, trash. And leaning towers, like one of those
kids' games of stacking irregular blocks, eventually keel over.
We've heard of
folks who've exercised due diligence in stacking their inbound
Mail of Indistinction so carefully that they reach the ceiling,
start another stack, and continue until their whole house is a
wild maze of winding canyons walled by stuff that they could
never bring themselves to open or sort. One little earth tremor,
and their house of cards, letters, and catalogues comes tumbling
down.
Had they
peeked, they'd have seen limited time offers for dozens of
magazines, credit cards, insurance policies, and vacations.
There would be countless opportunities to donate to
obscure-sounding charities, real or unreal, that include words
like "animals," "children," "veterans," and a plethora of
diseases. They'd have encountered catalogues abounding with
bargains they'd never dream of wanting, let alone needing.
One of our
endeavors for 2010, therefore, is to discover an effective way
to deal with this daily mess of inbound trash. The Mrs. and I
realized that if we didn't do something, our endeavor to get
through the bags, boxes, and bins of unsorted mail would take
forever. We brainstormed. We fretted. We consulted those rich
resources of sound advice, the tabloids at the supermarket
checkout.
We asked
friends how they do it day after day. One, who lives in a rural
area, has a very active burn barrel. Another recycles as much as
possible. Another shreds it for compost. The Mrs. consulted her
therapist - no, not that kind, the kind you go to for aches and
pains from the endless pursuit of finding new places to store
"temporary" mountains of junk mail.
Said
therapist, a lady, agreed with her husband that she'd do the
first sort. She'd put his stuff into a pile at a certain place
on the kitchen counter, and she'd take care of hers. It's a guy
thing, I suppose, but soon he was asking whether this or that
had arrived as expected. Ironically, he's a professional
counselor, so in her most diplomatic manner and tone, she
suggested that perhaps, no guarantees of course, but perhaps
he'd find what he's looking for if he attacked his month-old
stack of mail.
Did I mention
that as soon as the stack begins to lean, she places a waste can
strategically near the counter to catch the fallout?
My major
concern, of course, was that we'd have been chosen for a free
trip or won the Big Sweepstakes and would never know it because
those pieces would be buried with the rest. We finally concluded
that the only effective approach is the NFL approach - tackle it
head-on. That was a good thing.
We discovered
that credit card banks are deliberately sending out invoices
disguised as junk mail so the envelope would be tossed aside,
the payment date passed, and the customer assessed late fees and
higher interest rates.
It's another
case of the unsuspecting being hi-jinxed by the unscrupulous.
Our first sort
was easy. Anything over a year or two old went into a huge trash
can. Then the Mrs. sorted the rest - hers vs. mine. Now it's my
turn. But first, I have a few other things on my To-Do list. And
at the rate this stuff multiplies, my turn will be a forever
endeavor.
Jerry
Westbrook is a writer living with the Mrs. and The Poodle in
Winfield, PA, where he's looking for junk mail avalanche
insurance.
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The Jaded
Eye
By Gerry Ayers
Gerry
will return next week...
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American Idol Finalist
Performed at Bowman Field
When Aaron Kelly sang at Historic
Bowman Field, in 2005, he was a polite little 12-year old in a
black ten-gallon hat who sang country songs.
Today, he is one of the darlings
of this season’s "American Idol" and has advanced to the final
24 on the top-rated Fox TV hit.
Kelly, from nearby Sonestown, PA,
performed two country songs prior to the Williamsport
Crosscutters game on August 24, 2005 and amazed the crowd with
his talent at such a young age.
Cutters Vice-President Gabe
Sinicropi recalled Kelly’s appearance. "We were planning a
‘Salute to Country’ theme night at the ballpark and about a week
before the event, our local country station, who was
co-sponsoring the night, told me they had a local kid who could
sing his heart out and would be a great addition to what we had
planned. I figured it sounded good. We’ll have a cute kid
singing some country songs."
"Well this kid comes out to the
ballpark and his black cowboy hat is just about bigger than he
is. He’s got these great manners, and seemed mature beyond his
years. Then he goes out and sings a couple songs. That voice,
he just blew away the crowd. I figured that somewhere, someday
we might see his name again. I didn’t know when and I didn’t
know where. Now I know"
Kelly, who has also performed at
local county fairs in the area over the years, has developed
quite a following on "American Idol" with his vocal talents,
teenage good looks and polite demeanor.
Sinicropi added, "We were proud to
host Aaron in 2005, and wish him all the best in the
‘Idol’competition. In fact, we really hope that we can have him
back this summer to celebrate his success with an ‘Aaron Kelly
Night’ at the ballpark. With his permission, we’d love to
immortalize him with a bobblehead giveaway. All of central PA
is pulling for him"
He will showcase his musical
abilities tonight (Feb. 24) at 8pm on Fox while he attempts to
remain in the running to be the next "American Idol".
Voting will begin immediately
following tonight’s show with the top ten vote-getters moving on
to next week. Voting results will be revealed during the
elimination show, Thursday night at 8pm on Fox.
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The Pennsylvania
Garden:
The Promise of Spring
By Gary
Federowicz
"The promise
of spring
and the
river bank talks
of the
waters of March,
the end of
all strain,
the joy in
your heart.."
By Antonio
Carlos Jobim
Early March is
a wondrous time here in the Susquehanna valley. There is an
anticipation, a sense of change that comes along riding the
winds of a blustery March afternoon. Soon our landscapes and
gardens will burst forth in a dazzling display of springs finest
colors. Already an observant gardeners eye can find subtle
changes happening in the landscapes.
This past week
one of the earliest of spring blooming bulbs has begun to make
it presence known here in our area. The tiny Galanthus nivalis
or common snowdrop as it is known has peeked up through the cold
late winter soil and has begun to bravely begin its delicate
bloom display. Snowdrops are a flowering bulb that must be
planted in the fall. They over winter and amazingly begin to
flower in late February and early March.
The blooms are
small and only reach a size of about one half to an inch in
diameter. They are pendulous like and hang delicately at the end
of an upright greenish stalk with strap like leaves that are
several inches tall. The tiny flowers are a milky colored snow
white and resemble a sort of teardrop like bell. Snowdrops are
the first true harbingers of the changing seasons blooming even
before the first crocus, often pushing up through the cold late
winter snow to bring us hope and a sign of the spring wonders to
come.
Another sign
of the turning seasons can be found in the buds of the trees and
shrubs in our landscapes and gardens. All around us the trees
have begun to take on a subtle change as the buds have begun to
plumb up reading to push forth the blossoms of another green
season. Indoors we can bring a bit of early bloom color to our
windowsills by forcing some flowering branches. Cutting and
pushing woody stems into color inside is easy and now is the
perfect opportunity to harvest some braches for an early indoor
flower show.
To start
simply cut branches of spring blooming woody plants that are
heavily budded. Some great choices for early forcing include
forsythia, pussy willows, flowering quince, flowering
crabapples, fothergilla, ornamental cherries, ornamental pears,
cornelian cherry dogwood and PJM rhododendron. Harvest branches
that are about half an inch in diameter as these tend be the
easiest size to force. You may cut the stems to any length that
suit’s the vase you are using as the forcing container. In
effect as you cut the branches you are performing a bit of
pruning so take care to properly remove stems leaving a well
balanced, properly shaped plant. Bring your branches indoors and
recut them removing an inch of the stem from the bottom of each.
To help in the
uptake of water you may also crush the bottom inch or two of
each stem, pounding them carefully on a hard surface with a
small hammer. This will help to open up the woody tissues and
create more area for absorption. Fill your clean vase with tepid
water that contains a floral preservative. You can create a
homemade version by blending equal parts water to a citrus-based
sugar soda, to this mix you can also add a couple drops of
bleach to prevent bacteria build up in the solution. Place your
stems in the vase and set in a cool spot away from direct
exposure to sunlight. Generally it takes a good six to eight
hours to fully hydrate cut branches. Once they have been
properly soaked up shift the vase to a warm spot near a window
and begin to force the buds open. In several days to a week the
buds should start to break open and miraculously unfurl their
elegant blossoms and delicate green leaves. Be sure to change
and freshen the vase water about every four days, continue to
use a floral preservative as this will extend the bloom show
keeping the branches colorful and vibrant. Get a head start on
the spring season this year, cut and force some branches indoors
and enjoy a preview of the botanical wonders to come.
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From Propaganda Art to Pennsylvania
Freedom
By Jeffrey
Allen Federowicz
With brush in
hand, Yury Karabash sits at a paint stained easel inside his
warm studio in the midst of a Williamsport winter.
Between brush
strokes and spoonfuls of savory soup, Karabash recalls the
frigid winters of his native Moldova and the years he spent in
the early 1980s painting propaganda art while in the Russian
military.
Towering
images of Lenin, Stalin, and the idea of limitless power and
glory Russia wanted to project onto its people, where the
visions that flowed from Karabash’ brush.
"I was young,
— only 18 — and I was painting like crazy, some days 16, 18
hours a day trying to keep up with what was expected of me,"
said Karabash. "It was work, work, work, always trying to keep
up. At the time I didn’t know what propaganda was. To me, I was
simply making art, murals, paintings for my country. I did that
over four years. But, I was doing art, something I loved and
trained for since I was ten years old and went everyday for many
hours after school to a special art program. By the time I was
14 I had a professional education in art that other people would
have when they graduate from college."

Russian born artist, Yury
Karabash displays some of his work in Williamsport. (Photo by
Jeff Federowicz)
Karabash’s
bold and vibrant work adorned many public buildings in Russia
during a time when the country was under strict government
control, which flexed their powers by limiting nearly every
aspect of life; from what the citizens were allowed to buy,
where they could travel and the censored news that cast Russia
in the best light. It was a life without freedom.
"When I lived
there, my life was so different than what it is now," he said.
"Back then, you had no freedom. Nothing. But at the same time,
the people were so uses to living like that, being told what
they could or could not do, they never thought life could be any
different, any better. That was just the way our life was. Many
people just accepted it."
Although
Karabash, 49, loved his homeland and his family that lived
there, he longed for a life that was free, a life where the only
limits to one’s success and happiness, was their own ambition.
"Here in
America, I can paint whatever I want and not be told by someone
what I have to do," he said.
With freedom
in mind and the yearning for a fuller life, Karabash made the
difficult decision to leave his family, homeland and emigrate to
America.
The process
took several years, stacks of paper work and the approval the
government, before he found himself on the shores of America, a
country that seemed limitless in every possible way.
"When I got
here, I knew no English, knew no one here and had to find a job
and a place to live," he said. "But even then, I knew America
was not like what the Russian government said it was. America
was freedom. You could go where you want, do what you wanted. I
would go into a store and was amazed by all the things you could
buy. If you wanted something and had the money, it was yours. In
America if you want a car, you go and buy one. In Russian when I
lived there, only the rich had cars and even then, you have to
wait several years. And the cars where junk."
With the help
of a church, Karabash ended up in Tennessee, a place he knew
nothing about, but he was determine to survive.
After landing
a job in a factory, he slowly began to learn English and become
more comfortable in his new country.
"One of my
greatest accomplishments in life was coming to American and
becoming a citizen. I love it here and the people have been very
nice to me. At the same time, I still have feelings for where I
grew up because that is a part of my history. It is my roots."
As with many
people in a new land, Karabash wanted to experience and explore
the country he now called home.
His travels
were interrupted when fate paid a call and detoured Karabash
from heading to New York City to State College to visit with
people he knew. Three years later, he was still living there.
During his
time in State College, Karabash met a person who would be
instrumental in his life and work as a painter — mural artist,
Michael Pilato.
"Michael has
helped me so much and with so many things," Karabash said. "I
helped him with the murals in State College, he helped me with
my English and has been an amazing friends to me. So when
Michael came to Williamsport, I came along too and now I share a
studio with him and it is the most beautiful place I have ever
worked. Many times artists are stuck in some tiny place with bad
lighting, and now, I have lots of room and windows and a place
where I can do my work and help Michael with his murals."
A visit to the
studio, located across from the Community Arts Center, yields an
area filled with art, workspaces and everything else an artist
would need to be creative and productive.
"Yury is a
master artist, his work is just amazing and filled with detail
and color," Pilato said. "Many times you can see how his amazing
past becomes part of his work. He is a true talent. He is like a
brother to me and my family feels the same way, he has become
part of our family. He is a gifted man and a gifted artist."
Throughout the
studio, pieces of Karabash’s work show they were touched by an
artist whose experienced life, from the best to the worst and
everything in between.
Several of his
paintings feature dramatic uses of color that slash boldly
across the canvas. His work, clearly a mixture of abstract with
a dash of modernism, features a controlled disarray of shapes,
lines and hues that should not work together, but they do, thus
creating a piece of art that captures one’s attention.
"For me, art
is part of my life and has been since I was two years old and
first started to paint," he said. "Now, I live here in
Williamsport and I can paint in a real studio. I like it here.
The people in Williamsport are very nice. It is a relaxing
place. I love to walk down Millionaire’s Row and see the
architecture and the city’s history. The area is a beautiful
place with so many mountains. It is a very peaceful life."
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Local High School Student
Shines on Arts Center Stage
By Jeffrey Allen Federowicz
The houselights dimmed, the
audience at the Community Arts Center became silent and Zack
Wagner stepped onto the stage where musical greats such as Yo-Yo
Ma, Ray Charles, Vanessa Williams and Willie Nelson once
performed.
Zach’s song was "Maria," his voice
was spot-on and the audience was pleasantly surprised. The
reason for their amazement was the fact that Zach was a local
high school student and not a professional from the "100 Years
of Broadway" performance the audience came to see.
Zack’s performance at the CAC
wasn’t the first time he took the spotlight, it was, however,
one of his most memorable performances.
"Singing at the Community Arts
center was such a huge honor for me. It was a great experience
and something I will always remember," said the Williamsport
High School senior. "The cast of ‘100 Years of Broadway’ were
such professionals and were so kind. It was an amazing night."
Zack’s interest in music started at
the age of three when he first started to entertain his parents,
Christine and David Wagner, and his siblings, brother Zane and
sister, Zoey.
"We are all very proud of Zack for
his performance at the Community Arts Center and for all he has
accomplished," Christine said. "He is very dedicated and has a
strong, soothing voice. Sometimes when he sings, I just get lost
because when he is singing, it’s more than just a song, he is
also telling a story."
Zack’s own musical story includes
performances at the Community Theatre League, including "Beauty
and the Beast," "State Fair" and last year’s ACT-UP! Performance
of "Footloose" at the CAC last year.
It was his standout performances
that earned him the opportunity to sing at prior to the start of
"100 Years of Broadway."
"I met Zack Wagner when we were
both cast in "Gypsy" at the Community Theatre League about four
years ago. I quickly took note of the fact that he was a gifted
and dedicated performer and a singularly nice young gentleman,"
said Rob Steel, executive director of the CAC.
"Zack was also a finalist in the
Williamsport Idol event at the CAC two or three years ago, plus
he played a lead role in the ACT UP! production of Footloose at
the CAC last summer. I spoke with the producer of "100 Years of
Broadway" about the concept of adding a local talent to the show
and he turned on the green light on Wednesday last week. Zack as
you have already noted, was ready, willing, and able."
Zack passion for music along with
his personality, has earned him praise throughout the community.
"Zack is an extremely hard worker,
very diligent, and very helpful. He strives for excellence in
everything he does. He is also literally the most polite and
conscientious student I have ever had the pleasure of meeting,"
said music teacher, Marisa Hickey.
"Zack has always been a very gifted
musician. Not only does he have a beautiful voice, but he also
extremely expressive with his singing. It is this expression
that really draws the listener to his voice."
The CAC experience for Zach and the
audience would not have happened if it wasn’t for the art center
opening its doors to local talent.
"This opportunity for Zack wouldn’t
have happened if it were not for Rob Steel. He has welcomed
local talent to the CAC, creating a situation where everyone
benefits," Christine said. "When we moved here 13 years ago, the
CAC was nothing like it is now. Rob has done an excellent job."
The experience also showcased the
high quality talent the area has, which was clearly visible when
Zack took to the stage.
Audience members at the CAC the
other night were drawn to Zack’s voice and his professionalism,
both of which are hard to obtain, even for a performer twice
Zack’s age.
"I was thrilled to see his
performance! He appeared calm, cool, and collected- just as a
professional musician should be," Hickey said. "I think that it
was a great performance of a very difficult piece. It was a
great choice for him, and it fit in with the "100 Years of
Broadway" theme."
It is with the support of his
family, friends and his current music teacher, Sasha
Tiaspo-Tedford, that Zack has developed as a singer, which will
come in handy now that he is taking the next big step in his
life, getting ready for college and a degree in music and the
arts.
"My family has been amazing. They
are so supportive and encouraging. My brother and sister have
attended every single performance I ever was in," Zack said. "My
current music teacher has also been a huge help with my singing
and encouraging me to do my best."
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