My wife and I had only been married since August,1976. We started out in an upstairs flat in Kenmore. It was just the right size for the two of us.
There were a couple of problems though; the gas bill for December was over $350.00 (Yeah, in 1976. We were able to determine that the landlady kept her heat turned down and just sucked up what ever heat we could provide.), and apparently, when we weren't home, our busy-body old landlady would let herself in and look around. (That's a whole other story!)
So, we found a place out in Amherst and were getting ready to move.....on January 28, 1977. We had the hardest time trying to find a U-Haul to rent. Seems everyone was thinking there was a big storm coming in. "C'mon, how bad could it get?" Luckily, there was a vendor out near where we were moving, and my wife gave him a sob story that worked.
We spent all of the 27th loading up the truck. It's a good thing we were able to leave it and my Pinto in the driveway. None of that snow had to be shoveled. The rest of the driveway was a mess, with no less than 2 1/2 feet of snow leading up to an 8 foot drift across the garage door. When I piled it up in front of the other half of the garage, our "lovely" landlady came out and started complaining. Oh, well. She got the rest of the driveway shoveled for free. What does she have to complain about? Certainly not HER heating bill!
As I stated, we lived in Kenmore. And, those of you that know Kenmore, the Village plows were continuously on the road, hour after hour, during the storm. The streets were completely clear and already salted down to bare pavement. Driving in the Village with the rental was not a problem. But, once we got to the Town of Tonawanda and the into Amherst, it was a different story.
The ruts in the snow and ice on Sheridan were 8 to 10 inches deep. It's a good thing there wasn't anyone else on the road that morning. At times, the truck would start moving sideways on its own. Stopping was not possible. I even remember seeing a Town of Tonawanda Police officer just watching us slide through an intersection nearly sideways. He didn't come after us. He just shook his head.
We got the truck unloaded and returned it to the vendor. He said he was going to meet us at the store, but he never made it out of his driveway at home.
When I got back to our new apartment, the phone rang and it was my boss. He wondered if I was going to be able to make it into work. (WHAT!?) At the time, I was employed by Tops Markets at Hertel and Elmwood.
Apparently, the store hadn't closed and customers were walking in, buying anything they could find. A lot of the employees that were scheduled to work were having a hard time making it in.
My dad had helped move us, so he said he would take me in. As I said, I only had a Pinto, but he had a big old Galaxie 500, able to plow through anything.
Getting back to Kenmore was not a problem. Driving down Elmwood from Sheridan was a breeze. But, once we hit the City line at Kenmore, it was another world. It didn't look like a plow had been there at all. He was able to eventually get to Hinman and Elmwood, but then the fun began.
If you can remember, there used to be a Twin Fair just south of Hinman. And on the other side of Elmwood was a huge industrial plant; big square building that went back a couple 1000 feet, WITH A BIG FLAT ROOF! All the snow that didn't stay on the roof was now on Elmwood. There was a drift that started at the warehouse and stretched all the way across Elmwood into the Twin Fair parking lot.......10 FEET HIGH!. There were cars and trucks buried under it.
My dad took a chance and drove into the Twin Fair parking lot. By driving almost to the front of the building, he was able to get around "the drift" and out the other side. But, what lie ahead? More abandoned vehicles and a bus or two, that's all. At least there wasn't another "beast drift".
We made to Tops and this parking lot was just as bad. Nothing but buried cars. Yet, people were walking to and from the store. The entire front of the store was coated with snow. The foyer, with its heater and grated floor, had a drift going all the way into one corner. The evidence of snow didn't stop until you were 5-10 feet INSIDE the heated building. There was almost nothing left on the shelves; bread, milk, eggs, produce.....gone. Canned goods were almost all wiped out. Even toilet paper was down to singles.
Luckily, I was able to bargain with the store manager. I would stay to try to refill the shelves, but after 6 hours I was leaving. But, I would come back to help, and I did.
It was 3 days before a tractor-trailer was able to make a delivery. By then, the store, including the back store room, was nearly empty. And, it would take another 4 trailers and 5 days before the shelves were filled again. Fresh produce didn't show up for a week.
28 January 2010
09 January 2010
Sheridan Park Sledding
With the news that the toboggan runs at Chestnut Ridge Park have reopened, I can't help but think back to when Sheridan Park had it's runs, too. Granted, the hill at Sheridan was no where near as high, nor was the run as long, nor was there a beautiful stone-and-timber lodge to head into when you got cold. But, it was "our" park and we could get there, or home, pretty quickly if we wanted.
The hill the toboggan run at Sheridan sat is no longer a hill. During the last "renovation", the valley was all but filled in, and now it's barely a dip. But, back then, when the conditions were right, you could fly down the hill, across the valley, and part way up the other side. And that was just with your sled. The toboggans easily made the traverse and sometimes only stopped when they ran out of decent snow.
If you were really up for a challenge, you headed to the "other" hill. Granted, this one was actually on the Golf Course, and there was no official acknowledgement of it, but it attracted a more daring clientele. We didn't know it then, but the hill was actually the tee for, what would eventually become, the 13th hole.
The hill itself was a vista; all the way from the dam to Ensminger Road. Directly below was the "deadly" 2-Mile Creek. If you weren't able to stop, or if you made the ill-advised attempt to cross the walk-bridge with your sled and missed, you were in the water. Granted, the flow of 2-Mile Creek was not torrent, nor deep. But, being wet in the winter was not something anyone looked forward to.
The hill also had 2-3 plateau's. Once I became a golfer and frequented the course, I learned that these were various tee-boxes. But, when you're a kid, you only know that, unless you launched from the very top, you were a sissy and didn't belong here; you should be on the other side of the park.
Both north and south of "the hill", were long meadows (fairways) that paralleled the creek. The one to the south was more frequently utilized, as the walk back up the slope was more stepped, and you could, if you were so inclined, throw yourself down quickly to catch a short-run back down the hill. This type of action took place during the busiest of days, where you could wait long periods of time at the top of the big hill for traffic to clear. Remember, with this hill being "unofficial", there was no standard return route to the peak; you could be cut down at any moment by a kamikaze sledder.
One fine and fitful Saturday morning, we didn't have a ride from home to the Park, so three of us decided to walk. Now, during the summer months, this never seemed like that long of a walk. Even though it was cold and snowy, the trek there was fueled by a wanton desire to fly downhill. The return home was far from our minds.
We attacked the hill with avengance; hitting the plateau's, flying across the snow and ice, having a blast. Then came the challenge.....how far can you go. The north side of the slope was not being used by many; it had not received the settling of snow normally needed to allow for metal-runnered sleds to go great distance. But, after 10 to 15 runs apiece, the arena was set for the competition.
Each of us took turns with the others acting as judge. One rule was specific; you could not lunge your body weight forward in order to eek out a few more feet of travel distance. (Before we had left for the day, I took the time to clean and wax my runners, unbeknownst to my competitors.)
As the snow pack improved, distances, that first had just barely reached the bottom of the hill, were now extending yards and yards out onto the far plain. This great action was beginning to draw the attention of other sledders, so our sanctuary was soon to be invaded. We had little time left to compete without interruption. It was decided; one more run each.
Knowing that I would be hard to beat, I went first. And what a run it was. I caught the perfect line between slope and snow and traveled farther than anyone had done that day. Full of pride, I turned when I arose from my Silver Salute, facing my enemies, waving my arms in triumph.
Of course, the attempt by our second sledder ended without as much jubulance. A quick puff of snow was the tell-tale sign he had entered into a previously unvisited area and came to a sudden stop. Failure!
Our third entrant eyed the slope well. Now, there was no rule against taking a running start and flopping face first onto the sled. If you did this, it had to take place before hitting the downward slope or you were disqualified. Back and back he went. 10, 20, 30 yards. And then the scream. A primal scream to not only excite himself, but to let everyone in the immediate area that a great feat was about to take place.
Off he went, flying faster than anyone had been able, taking a line in the snow no one had even attempted, heading toward the lip of the embankment. (Apparently, this area of snow was well packed, and having no barriers to assist drift formation, was crusty and iced over.) Out onto the plain. Farther and farther. Easily past my great distance. But, he was not giving up. Out and out he went, until the mark he had set was beyond anyone's imagination. Then, and only then, did he turn towards us while still lying on his sled and yell, "I won! I wo---".
Down into the creek, into the abyss. It was either the upward movement of his triumphant arm, or losing sight of where the sled was heading that caused his watery disappearance.
Each of us threw down our sleds and flew to his assistance. There was little to do at that point but laugh. We tried not to, but we couldn't help ourselves. Icicles were already forming on his sled runners. And, then his gloves. And, then (snicker, snicker) his eyebrows.
Luckily, he hadn't rolled in the water after he slid down the embankment. It was more of a sit-down. But, a sufficient amount of him and his clothing had entered the water, whereupon standing, all fluids trapped beneath his snow pants headed directly into his boots; actually, golashes, with the buckles down the front. Socks, shoes, golashes, underwear, long underwear, pants, and his jacket and sweater and shirt and hat; all soaked.
As I stated earlier, we didn't have a ride to the park. And, we didn't have a ride home. The walk that, in normal conditions, took only 15 minutes was going to take much longer today. And, for one of us, it was going to be a lot wetter and very cold. At least this time, it wasn't me that had to explain to my mom, "Why?"
The hill the toboggan run at Sheridan sat is no longer a hill. During the last "renovation", the valley was all but filled in, and now it's barely a dip. But, back then, when the conditions were right, you could fly down the hill, across the valley, and part way up the other side. And that was just with your sled. The toboggans easily made the traverse and sometimes only stopped when they ran out of decent snow.
If you were really up for a challenge, you headed to the "other" hill. Granted, this one was actually on the Golf Course, and there was no official acknowledgement of it, but it attracted a more daring clientele. We didn't know it then, but the hill was actually the tee for, what would eventually become, the 13th hole.
The hill itself was a vista; all the way from the dam to Ensminger Road. Directly below was the "deadly" 2-Mile Creek. If you weren't able to stop, or if you made the ill-advised attempt to cross the walk-bridge with your sled and missed, you were in the water. Granted, the flow of 2-Mile Creek was not torrent, nor deep. But, being wet in the winter was not something anyone looked forward to.
The hill also had 2-3 plateau's. Once I became a golfer and frequented the course, I learned that these were various tee-boxes. But, when you're a kid, you only know that, unless you launched from the very top, you were a sissy and didn't belong here; you should be on the other side of the park.
Both north and south of "the hill", were long meadows (fairways) that paralleled the creek. The one to the south was more frequently utilized, as the walk back up the slope was more stepped, and you could, if you were so inclined, throw yourself down quickly to catch a short-run back down the hill. This type of action took place during the busiest of days, where you could wait long periods of time at the top of the big hill for traffic to clear. Remember, with this hill being "unofficial", there was no standard return route to the peak; you could be cut down at any moment by a kamikaze sledder.
One fine and fitful Saturday morning, we didn't have a ride from home to the Park, so three of us decided to walk. Now, during the summer months, this never seemed like that long of a walk. Even though it was cold and snowy, the trek there was fueled by a wanton desire to fly downhill. The return home was far from our minds.
We attacked the hill with avengance; hitting the plateau's, flying across the snow and ice, having a blast. Then came the challenge.....how far can you go. The north side of the slope was not being used by many; it had not received the settling of snow normally needed to allow for metal-runnered sleds to go great distance. But, after 10 to 15 runs apiece, the arena was set for the competition.
Each of us took turns with the others acting as judge. One rule was specific; you could not lunge your body weight forward in order to eek out a few more feet of travel distance. (Before we had left for the day, I took the time to clean and wax my runners, unbeknownst to my competitors.)
As the snow pack improved, distances, that first had just barely reached the bottom of the hill, were now extending yards and yards out onto the far plain. This great action was beginning to draw the attention of other sledders, so our sanctuary was soon to be invaded. We had little time left to compete without interruption. It was decided; one more run each.
Knowing that I would be hard to beat, I went first. And what a run it was. I caught the perfect line between slope and snow and traveled farther than anyone had done that day. Full of pride, I turned when I arose from my Silver Salute, facing my enemies, waving my arms in triumph.
Of course, the attempt by our second sledder ended without as much jubulance. A quick puff of snow was the tell-tale sign he had entered into a previously unvisited area and came to a sudden stop. Failure!
Our third entrant eyed the slope well. Now, there was no rule against taking a running start and flopping face first onto the sled. If you did this, it had to take place before hitting the downward slope or you were disqualified. Back and back he went. 10, 20, 30 yards. And then the scream. A primal scream to not only excite himself, but to let everyone in the immediate area that a great feat was about to take place.
Off he went, flying faster than anyone had been able, taking a line in the snow no one had even attempted, heading toward the lip of the embankment. (Apparently, this area of snow was well packed, and having no barriers to assist drift formation, was crusty and iced over.) Out onto the plain. Farther and farther. Easily past my great distance. But, he was not giving up. Out and out he went, until the mark he had set was beyond anyone's imagination. Then, and only then, did he turn towards us while still lying on his sled and yell, "I won! I wo---".
Down into the creek, into the abyss. It was either the upward movement of his triumphant arm, or losing sight of where the sled was heading that caused his watery disappearance.
Each of us threw down our sleds and flew to his assistance. There was little to do at that point but laugh. We tried not to, but we couldn't help ourselves. Icicles were already forming on his sled runners. And, then his gloves. And, then (snicker, snicker) his eyebrows.
Luckily, he hadn't rolled in the water after he slid down the embankment. It was more of a sit-down. But, a sufficient amount of him and his clothing had entered the water, whereupon standing, all fluids trapped beneath his snow pants headed directly into his boots; actually, golashes, with the buckles down the front. Socks, shoes, golashes, underwear, long underwear, pants, and his jacket and sweater and shirt and hat; all soaked.
As I stated earlier, we didn't have a ride to the park. And, we didn't have a ride home. The walk that, in normal conditions, took only 15 minutes was going to take much longer today. And, for one of us, it was going to be a lot wetter and very cold. At least this time, it wasn't me that had to explain to my mom, "Why?"
03 January 2010
"Off with his head..."
His father warned us....no one listened.
He was trained in Yemen....no one knew.
He had explosives sewn into his underwear....no one dared to look.
He succeeded in only burning himself.....no plane went down.
OMG! He was trained in Yemen! Quick! Shut down the embassy!
Why didn't any one tell us there were bad people there in Yemen. "Off with his head!"
He was trained in Yemen....no one knew.
He had explosives sewn into his underwear....no one dared to look.
He succeeded in only burning himself.....no plane went down.
OMG! He was trained in Yemen! Quick! Shut down the embassy!
Why didn't any one tell us there were bad people there in Yemen. "Off with his head!"
26 November 2009
Thanksgiving Morning
We often give labels to certain days of the year. And today, Thanksgiving, is just another example. But, our dog doesn't know that. She just knows that there is something that smells REAL good down in the oven; that she has to keep checking on it to make sure it hasn't escaped; and, that when the sun comes up, it's time to go for a walk.
Surprisingly, she and I weren't the only ones out there. Apparently, the lack of giving names to days in the year is widespread in the canine world. With the exception of these other pet lovers, however, there didn't seem to be much stirring in the world.
As a matter of fact, the familiar din of traffic noise often heard at this time of day is missing. Not even a train locomotive moving along the Maple Leaf corridor. All I can hear is.....a sparrow chirping......in November.......on Thanksgiving day.
Come to think of it, the weather is actually quite pleasant. Yes, it's a little overcast and a little drizzly, but I can't see my exhaled breath. And, I probably could have come out without a jacket on. And, there was no evidence that we had a frost last night.
Hmmmm.
This is Thanksgiving, right?
I do live in Western New York, don't I?
Except for the fact that all the trees are barren of leaves and show no signs of growth, I could almost swear that it was Spring. The grass is green, the birds are chirping, it's not even 7:00 AM, and I'm starting to break a sweat walking Dakota with this jacket on.
And, then reality hits. A waft comes from one of the homes nearby. TURKEY! Aha! Someone else is up baking the bird already. I was almost convinced it was Easter Sunday and was expecting to see a rabbit dart out at any minute.
Dakota would've liked that. Don't forget, for her it's just another morning walk. And, "bunnies" is one of the best things to find, next to "cats" or "squirrels".
Surprisingly, she and I weren't the only ones out there. Apparently, the lack of giving names to days in the year is widespread in the canine world. With the exception of these other pet lovers, however, there didn't seem to be much stirring in the world.
As a matter of fact, the familiar din of traffic noise often heard at this time of day is missing. Not even a train locomotive moving along the Maple Leaf corridor. All I can hear is.....a sparrow chirping......in November.......on Thanksgiving day.
Come to think of it, the weather is actually quite pleasant. Yes, it's a little overcast and a little drizzly, but I can't see my exhaled breath. And, I probably could have come out without a jacket on. And, there was no evidence that we had a frost last night.
Hmmmm.
This is Thanksgiving, right?
I do live in Western New York, don't I?
Except for the fact that all the trees are barren of leaves and show no signs of growth, I could almost swear that it was Spring. The grass is green, the birds are chirping, it's not even 7:00 AM, and I'm starting to break a sweat walking Dakota with this jacket on.
And, then reality hits. A waft comes from one of the homes nearby. TURKEY! Aha! Someone else is up baking the bird already. I was almost convinced it was Easter Sunday and was expecting to see a rabbit dart out at any minute.
Dakota would've liked that. Don't forget, for her it's just another morning walk. And, "bunnies" is one of the best things to find, next to "cats" or "squirrels".
25 November 2009
Proclamation of Thanksgiving - 1863
Washington, D.C.October 3, 1863
Proclamation of Thanksgiving
By Abraham Lincoln, 16th President of the United States of America
The Year that is drawing to a close, has been filled with the blessings of fruitful fields and healthful skies. To these bounties, which are so constantly enjoyed that we are prone to forget the source from which they come, others have been added, which are so extraordinary a nature, that they cannot fail to penetrate and soften even the heart which is habitually insensible to the ever watchful providence of Almighty God.
In the midst of a civil war of unequaled magnitude and severity, which has sometimes seemed to foreign States to invite and to provoke the aggression, peace has been preserved with all nations, order has been maintained, the laws have been respected and obeyed, and harmony has prevailed everywhere except in the theater of military conflict; while that theater has been greatly contracted by the advancing armies and navies of the Union.
Needful diversion of wealth and strength from the fields of peaceful industry to the national defense, have not arrested the plough, the shuttle or the ship; the axe has enlarged the borders of our settlements, and the mines, as well of iron and coal as of the precious metals, have yielded even more abundantly than heretofore.
Population has steadily increased, notwithstanding the waste that has been made in the camp, the siege, and the battle-field; and the country, rejoicing in the consciousness of augmented strength and vigor, is permitted to expect continuance of years with large increase of freedom.
No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy.
It has seemed to me fit and proper that they should be solemnly, reverently and gratefully acknowledged as with one heart and one voice by the whole American People.
I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens.
And I recommend to them that while offering up the ascription’s justly due to Him for such singular deliverance’s and blessings, they do also, with humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience, commend to His tender care all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife in which we are unavoidably engaged, and fervently implore the interposition of the Almighty hand to heal the wounds of the nation, and to restore it as soon as may be consistent with the Divine purposes to the full enjoyment of peace, harmony, tranquility, and Union.
In testimony whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and caused the seal of the United States to be affixed.
Done at the City of Washington, this Third day of October, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, and of the Independence of the United States the Eighty-eighth.
By the President: Abraham Lincoln
Proclamation of Thanksgiving
By Abraham Lincoln, 16th President of the United States of America
The Year that is drawing to a close, has been filled with the blessings of fruitful fields and healthful skies. To these bounties, which are so constantly enjoyed that we are prone to forget the source from which they come, others have been added, which are so extraordinary a nature, that they cannot fail to penetrate and soften even the heart which is habitually insensible to the ever watchful providence of Almighty God.
In the midst of a civil war of unequaled magnitude and severity, which has sometimes seemed to foreign States to invite and to provoke the aggression, peace has been preserved with all nations, order has been maintained, the laws have been respected and obeyed, and harmony has prevailed everywhere except in the theater of military conflict; while that theater has been greatly contracted by the advancing armies and navies of the Union.
Needful diversion of wealth and strength from the fields of peaceful industry to the national defense, have not arrested the plough, the shuttle or the ship; the axe has enlarged the borders of our settlements, and the mines, as well of iron and coal as of the precious metals, have yielded even more abundantly than heretofore.
Population has steadily increased, notwithstanding the waste that has been made in the camp, the siege, and the battle-field; and the country, rejoicing in the consciousness of augmented strength and vigor, is permitted to expect continuance of years with large increase of freedom.
No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy.
It has seemed to me fit and proper that they should be solemnly, reverently and gratefully acknowledged as with one heart and one voice by the whole American People.
I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens.
And I recommend to them that while offering up the ascription’s justly due to Him for such singular deliverance’s and blessings, they do also, with humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience, commend to His tender care all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife in which we are unavoidably engaged, and fervently implore the interposition of the Almighty hand to heal the wounds of the nation, and to restore it as soon as may be consistent with the Divine purposes to the full enjoyment of peace, harmony, tranquility, and Union.
In testimony whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and caused the seal of the United States to be affixed.
Done at the City of Washington, this Third day of October, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, and of the Independence of the United States the Eighty-eighth.
By the President: Abraham Lincoln
28 October 2009
What next?
I love the outdoors. I cannot remember not feeling this way. Rather than sit and wonder, I would love to stand in a wild field of brambles and wait for a pheasant to alight; to look across a hillside of virgin timber and imagine that the whole country once looked this way; to sit silently for hours and wait for that first movement of a squirrel who finally realizes I am going to be there for a while and won’t be of any harm; to come over a rise or around a corner of a narrow trail and freeze in place as I am confronted by a calf moose, knowing that “mom” probably isn’t too far away; to be so far away from civilization that the only din I hear is from a waterfall across the valley.
Although I often use various modes of transportation to near these experiences, they always seem to happen while I am walking. The sloshing through mud or shuffling over leaves or tramping on snow provides for a satisfaction of achievement that is lost when you’re sitting down behind a window. You just don’t get the same impact while you are driving your car, motoring in a bus, or riding in a train. You might be able to view them, but at 15, 30, or 65 miles per hour, you never really get to FEEL them.
And so, when I saw a recent article appear online from About.com written by Lauren Himiak (http://usparks.about.com/b/2009/10/28/npca-disagrees-with-legislation-for-north-cascades.htm), I was curious. Apparently, a Bill (H.R. 2806) had been passed by the House and sent on to the Senate, even after the Department of Interior and it’s National Park Service, to whom the funding would be provided, said “No thanks.” From what I can understand, it calls for the repositioning and reconstruction of nearly ten miles of isolated roadway. When I say isolated, I do mean isolated. This road is located in the North Cascades National Park in Washington State and can only be reached by boat or plane. This stretch of road along the Stehekin River has twice been wiped out by flooding in the past 15 years; and was not replaced after the last episode in 2003. And, what makes this project even more perplexing is that there are no camps, no homes, no buildings whatsoever along this road. It is a dead end.
In fact, since the last Management Plan in 1993, the only motorized vehicle that has been allowed along its length has been a shuttle bus that was operated by the NPS. It was then, and continues to be, open to hikers, horses, and cyclists. But, no cars.
Now comes the biggest issue. In order for this roadway to be “repositioned”, it will require an Environmental Impact Study to be completed. Initial cost estimate - $500,000 – five hundred thousand dollars. Time to complete the study – 3-4 YEARS! Initial estimate to complete the work 1.5- 2 million dollars ($2,000,000). Annual upkeep – Your guess is as good as mine.
And why did the House pass this bill? Excellent question. Apparently, the Honorable Representative Hastings felt it was important that the guidelines laid out in that same Management Plan of 1993 be met in the strictest fashion; that everyone has the opportunity to experience the public lands that are our National Parks.
So, Representative Hastings, why don’t we construct a road to the top of Mt. McKinley. I’m sure the young, elderly, and disabled would love to experience that, too. It might increase the traffic there, which would likely assist the economy of that region, too.
There comes a time when money should not chase ideals, and this is one of those times. This roadway was built alongside a fast flowing river; one that accepts a large amount of springtime runoff from the Cascade Mountains. Normal and expected water action takes place along its shoreline and slopes; erosion, movement, replacement. To say that the road should be moved away from the Stehekin River is an admirable one. But, how far is far enough. An active river could easily outmaneuver whatever border you may wish to apply to it.
If creating access to the Cascade Mountains is your goal, then that is already in place. The fact that the road is now nothing more than a trail could very well be the reason that there has been an increase of visitors. Being able to traverse a distance of 10 miles alongside a flowing river using an old roadway base is much more desired than bushwhacking your way through.
And, finally, the fact that this area is truly isolated; that no tourist can drive a vehicle onto this roadway from any other public highway should tell you enough of what its value truly is to the American people.
Like the tenet that is in place here in New York State that applies to our great STATE park system; Forever Wild, Mr. Hastings. Forever Wild.
Although I often use various modes of transportation to near these experiences, they always seem to happen while I am walking. The sloshing through mud or shuffling over leaves or tramping on snow provides for a satisfaction of achievement that is lost when you’re sitting down behind a window. You just don’t get the same impact while you are driving your car, motoring in a bus, or riding in a train. You might be able to view them, but at 15, 30, or 65 miles per hour, you never really get to FEEL them.
And so, when I saw a recent article appear online from About.com written by Lauren Himiak (http://usparks.about.com/b/2009/10/28/npca-disagrees-with-legislation-for-north-cascades.htm), I was curious. Apparently, a Bill (H.R. 2806) had been passed by the House and sent on to the Senate, even after the Department of Interior and it’s National Park Service, to whom the funding would be provided, said “No thanks.” From what I can understand, it calls for the repositioning and reconstruction of nearly ten miles of isolated roadway. When I say isolated, I do mean isolated. This road is located in the North Cascades National Park in Washington State and can only be reached by boat or plane. This stretch of road along the Stehekin River has twice been wiped out by flooding in the past 15 years; and was not replaced after the last episode in 2003. And, what makes this project even more perplexing is that there are no camps, no homes, no buildings whatsoever along this road. It is a dead end.
In fact, since the last Management Plan in 1993, the only motorized vehicle that has been allowed along its length has been a shuttle bus that was operated by the NPS. It was then, and continues to be, open to hikers, horses, and cyclists. But, no cars.
Now comes the biggest issue. In order for this roadway to be “repositioned”, it will require an Environmental Impact Study to be completed. Initial cost estimate - $500,000 – five hundred thousand dollars. Time to complete the study – 3-4 YEARS! Initial estimate to complete the work 1.5- 2 million dollars ($2,000,000). Annual upkeep – Your guess is as good as mine.
And why did the House pass this bill? Excellent question. Apparently, the Honorable Representative Hastings felt it was important that the guidelines laid out in that same Management Plan of 1993 be met in the strictest fashion; that everyone has the opportunity to experience the public lands that are our National Parks.
So, Representative Hastings, why don’t we construct a road to the top of Mt. McKinley. I’m sure the young, elderly, and disabled would love to experience that, too. It might increase the traffic there, which would likely assist the economy of that region, too.
There comes a time when money should not chase ideals, and this is one of those times. This roadway was built alongside a fast flowing river; one that accepts a large amount of springtime runoff from the Cascade Mountains. Normal and expected water action takes place along its shoreline and slopes; erosion, movement, replacement. To say that the road should be moved away from the Stehekin River is an admirable one. But, how far is far enough. An active river could easily outmaneuver whatever border you may wish to apply to it.
If creating access to the Cascade Mountains is your goal, then that is already in place. The fact that the road is now nothing more than a trail could very well be the reason that there has been an increase of visitors. Being able to traverse a distance of 10 miles alongside a flowing river using an old roadway base is much more desired than bushwhacking your way through.
And, finally, the fact that this area is truly isolated; that no tourist can drive a vehicle onto this roadway from any other public highway should tell you enough of what its value truly is to the American people.
Like the tenet that is in place here in New York State that applies to our great STATE park system; Forever Wild, Mr. Hastings. Forever Wild.
23 October 2009
Monte Cassino
This is a re-print of a paper written by me in 1967 when I was in 6th grade.
I have written this paper to show the reader that this was an important battle of World War II. It might have been a turning point for the Germans because they had lost many battles before that. I do hope that the reader will enjoy this story.
Before Anzio, which was a beachhead, the Germans had to try to stop the Allies' advancement toward Rome. They turned to a monastery with the name of Monte Cassino. This monastery is [still] located between Naples and Rome on the Rapido River. To the Germans, it was an excellent military position with it's rocky and steep hillside. The monastery was 350 meters (383 yards) higher than the village. The distance between them was about 1500 yards (1372 meters) and there were many hills in between. The Germans soon had it under control. They fortified it with huge guns.
The first (Allied) objective was to try to cross the Rapido. It took at least a couple of weeks of preparation. Soon, all was in readiness. They used rubber boast or rafts to get across the river. On their way to it, many boats were hit by heavy artillery. Few boats and men were left when they reached the Rapido. The few who got across it dug into the rocky hillside. They stayed until they were killed by either lead or hunger.
The next attempts were made by the 141st and 143rd. The 141st was assigned south of Saint Angelo. That division was successful with the help of a smokescreen. The 143rd, who were attacking north of Saint Angelo were unsuccessful. They had crossed the river but were driven back across by heavy mortar and machine gun fire, those who could swim.
Soon after this bloody battle, the American's ammunition was running out and they could not radio for help because [their] radio had been knocked out in a mortar bombardment. By 4 o'clock that afternoon, it was all over. The 36th, which was a combination of the 141st and 143rd, had lost 2681 men, 875 of which were missing. The 36th, a great fighting force, had been reduced to a regiment.
Next, the Second New Zealand Corps tried its hand at tackling the Rapido. General Alexander explains, "It was clear that the Second New Zealand Corps (SNZC) would be obliged, not merely to debough through a gateway flung open for them, but to capture the gate themselves." The SNZC were made up of the 2nd New Zealand and the 4th Indian Divisions. [They would] later join up with the 78th British and the 1st US Armored Division. All these men combined kept going despite being cold and on half rations.
More fresh troops were sent in and their welcome [was] a heavy artillery bombardment.
Finally, the Allied commanders, who were using this as a last resort, decided to bomb the monastery. They did warn the Germans. Leaflets were dropped to the ground saying,
On 2 February 1944, a force of B-17 Flying Fortresses and 112 Mediums dropped 576 tons of explosives on the village [of Monte Cassino] and Monastery Hill.
Instead of surrendering, the Grermans kept fighting because they had the advantage of being camoflaged under the rubble. Now, it was a game of hide-and-seek.
The Allied Command again agreed on a bombing. There were twice as many B-17's and Mediums. They dropped 1400 tons of explosives.
The result was only a shaking of the already-knocked-down Monastery. After the bombing, the Allies tried again, and again were wiped out.
In May of 1944, a Polish brigade, under [the command of] General Anders, swept fearlessly through the town, charged forward under heavy fire, and captured Monte Cassino.
After they captured it, the Allies (what was left of them) went on, and ... met the soldiers who came from Anzio. [They] went on to liberate the Eternal City.
This, the battle of Monte Cassino, may be summed up in a paragraph Fred Majdalany: " Cassino, so costly in human life and suffering, and thus deprived at the last of full victory, that could have made it worthwhile, was in the end little more than a victory of the human spirit; elegy for the common soldier; a memorial to the definitive horror of war and the curiously perverse paradoxical nobility of battle."
Monte Cassino
Introduction
I have written this paper to show the reader that this was an important battle of World War II. It might have been a turning point for the Germans because they had lost many battles before that. I do hope that the reader will enjoy this story.
Monte Cassino
Before Anzio, which was a beachhead, the Germans had to try to stop the Allies' advancement toward Rome. They turned to a monastery with the name of Monte Cassino. This monastery is [still] located between Naples and Rome on the Rapido River. To the Germans, it was an excellent military position with it's rocky and steep hillside. The monastery was 350 meters (383 yards) higher than the village. The distance between them was about 1500 yards (1372 meters) and there were many hills in between. The Germans soon had it under control. They fortified it with huge guns.
The first (Allied) objective was to try to cross the Rapido. It took at least a couple of weeks of preparation. Soon, all was in readiness. They used rubber boast or rafts to get across the river. On their way to it, many boats were hit by heavy artillery. Few boats and men were left when they reached the Rapido. The few who got across it dug into the rocky hillside. They stayed until they were killed by either lead or hunger.
The next attempts were made by the 141st and 143rd. The 141st was assigned south of Saint Angelo. That division was successful with the help of a smokescreen. The 143rd, who were attacking north of Saint Angelo were unsuccessful. They had crossed the river but were driven back across by heavy mortar and machine gun fire, those who could swim.
Soon after this bloody battle, the American's ammunition was running out and they could not radio for help because [their] radio had been knocked out in a mortar bombardment. By 4 o'clock that afternoon, it was all over. The 36th, which was a combination of the 141st and 143rd, had lost 2681 men, 875 of which were missing. The 36th, a great fighting force, had been reduced to a regiment.
Next, the Second New Zealand Corps tried its hand at tackling the Rapido. General Alexander explains, "It was clear that the Second New Zealand Corps (SNZC) would be obliged, not merely to debough through a gateway flung open for them, but to capture the gate themselves." The SNZC were made up of the 2nd New Zealand and the 4th Indian Divisions. [They would] later join up with the 78th British and the 1st US Armored Division. All these men combined kept going despite being cold and on half rations.
More fresh troops were sent in and their welcome [was] a heavy artillery bombardment.
Finally, the Allied commanders, who were using this as a last resort, decided to bomb the monastery. They did warn the Germans. Leaflets were dropped to the ground saying,
"We have until now been careful to avoid bombardment of Monte Cassino. The Germans have taken advantage of this. The battle is now closing more and more around the sacred precincts. Against our will, we are no obliged to direct our weapons against the monastery itself, We warn you so that you may save yourselves. Leave the monastery at once. This warning is urgent. It is given for your own good."
On 2 February 1944, a force of B-17 Flying Fortresses and 112 Mediums dropped 576 tons of explosives on the village [of Monte Cassino] and Monastery Hill.
Instead of surrendering, the Grermans kept fighting because they had the advantage of being camoflaged under the rubble. Now, it was a game of hide-and-seek.
The Allied Command again agreed on a bombing. There were twice as many B-17's and Mediums. They dropped 1400 tons of explosives.
The result was only a shaking of the already-knocked-down Monastery. After the bombing, the Allies tried again, and again were wiped out.
In May of 1944, a Polish brigade, under [the command of] General Anders, swept fearlessly through the town, charged forward under heavy fire, and captured Monte Cassino.
After they captured it, the Allies (what was left of them) went on, and ... met the soldiers who came from Anzio. [They] went on to liberate the Eternal City.
This, the battle of Monte Cassino, may be summed up in a paragraph Fred Majdalany: " Cassino, so costly in human life and suffering, and thus deprived at the last of full victory, that could have made it worthwhile, was in the end little more than a victory of the human spirit; elegy for the common soldier; a memorial to the definitive horror of war and the curiously perverse paradoxical nobility of battle."
Bibliography
- Battle of Cassino, The Fred Majdalany, Houghton Mifflin Company, 1957
- Men of Valor, Earl Schenck Miers, Rand McNally & Company, 1965
- Story of the Second World War, The, Katherine Savage, Henry Z. Walch, Inc., 1958
- Story of World War II, The, Robert Lechie, Random House, 1964
- Interview, Boleslaw A. Bobrowski, May 1967
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