Welcome back everybody! We hope you’ve been hoping we return…And we have! So please enjoy our fourth edition. Some changes have taken place with the formatting, but for the most part, The Bridge is the same: good times, good writing, good ‘ol something to keep you pondering life over that steaming brew of coffee.
And yes, it’s true…www.BridgeOnline.info—our online edition—is in its first phase. Check us out, but come with a kind heart, as lots of work remains on the site still. We wanted to give you the opportunity to read all of our fine contributors between printings, and to give you more of our writings, the ones we couldn’t fit in the print edition.
As always, please send us your thoughts, comments, reflections, poems, stories, happy news, and all the rest. Thank you for supporting us throughout the year. We look forward to keeping up the The Bridge!
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In Town—The End of The Monkey
Valentine Brkich
The Monkey is no more.
Just a year and a half after its grand opening, The Celestial Monkey Coffee and Tea Café closed its doors for good recently. If you’ve never heard of it (and chances are you haven’t, since they decided to close), the Monkey was a delightful little coffee shop on the corner of Bridge and Market Streets in my town of Bridgewater.
My wife, Cassie, and I were both giddy when we first learned that a coffee shop was planning on opening in our town. I’m a coffee addict, and she too enjoys a cup every now and then. But we were most excited about having a trendy new gathering place to walk to everyday. And that’s just what we did.
Since we were both working from home at the time, Cassie and I had the freedom to go for leisurely walks around town everyday. Of course, we always ended up at The Celestial Monkey, or “The Monkey” as we soon came to call it. It was so nice to have a place to go to for a hot cup of joe and a freshly made panini sandwich. I’d always grab a paper and read and gaze out the front window to watch the daily traffic pass by. We both enjoyed socializing with the people in the café, telling stories and spreading gossip—typical dialogue for a small-town setting.
For a while, The Monkey welcomed a steady stream of customers. Many had seen it from the road and had come in to investigate. What they found was an eclectic café that pleased the senses with delicious aromas filling the air and works of local artists adorning the multi-colored walls. It was a cozy place, a welcoming place. Most of all it was a unique place. It had a distinctiveness you just don’t find at those other Big Chain coffee shops. It was a charming type of place that you’d expect to find in a charming little town like Bridgewater.
For a while, The Monkey was home to Acoustic Jam Saturdays—a little monthly gathering I put together that featured some of our area’s most talented musicians in an acoustic-only format.
It was great fun while it lasted. Several times we had a packed house as people stopped in to relax on a Saturday evening with some great coffee, great food and great music. It was the kind of weekly event you want to see in a small town—a family-friendly event that showcases local talent and promotes community pride.
But now it’s all gone—the Acoustic Jams, the coffee, the local art, the cozy recliners and the funky atmosphere. The Monkey and all its wonderful small-town charm has gone the way of the dodo, so to speak.
But why? Who’s to blame for its closing?
Well, to be honest, we all are.
Sorry to break it to you, but we’re all to blame for losing this delightful little coffee bar. We were all just too comfortable at home, plopped on our sofas in front of our TVs watching “The Biggest Loser” and “Deal or No Deal” and “Grey’s Anatomy” and “Desperate Housewives” and “ER” and “House” and “CSI: (insert any city)” and the hundreds of other “must watch” shows. We were all driving through the local McDonalds to get a large coffee and an apple pie as we raced to our next meeting or appointment. We were all too tired after work to stop in for a cup of joe and some good conversation. We all had to run to Wal-Mart or Target or The Mall or Rite Aid or Walgreens or Staples or Best Buy, just so we could buy that thing that we just had to have.
It’s sad, but this is the way it is nowadays. We’re just too busy or too tired or too lazy to get out and enjoy all the wonderful, unique places that we’re fortunate enough to have here in Beaver County. I’m sure that, even after a year and a half, most people never even knew about The Celestial Monkey. Heck, I’ve met people who were unaware that there was anything at all open on Bridge Street. (There is. In fact, there’s close to 40 businesses on Bridge Street alone, many of them retail.)
We are so fortunate to have so many distinctive, historic main streets in our area. Bridgewater’s Bridge Street is just one of them. What about Brighton Ave. (Rochester), Duss Ave. and Merchant Streets (Ambridge), 3rd Ave. (New Brighton), Pennsylvania Ave. (Monaca), 7th Ave. (Beaver Falls), Franklin Ave. (Aliquippa), Midland Ave. (Midland), 3rd Ave. (Freedom), and 3rd Street (Beaver). Each one of these streets has something unique to offer—something you just won’t find at that Big Box Store or at the local mall. And if we don’t visit these main streets, if we don’t patronize their stores and restaurants and coffee shops, one day they may not be there anymore. Instead, they’ll be bulldozed and replaced by massive parking lots and cookie-cutter super drugstores.
Don’t believe me?
Once, back in the early 1970s, Bridgewater was slated to be bulldozed to make way for a new supermarket and several parking lots. Council had approved it as a last-stitch effort to “save” the town, which had basically become a ghost town after Route 51 was put in. People no longer needed Bridgewater. They could now zip past it on the brand-new highway on their way to the mall.
Fortunately for Bridgewater, cooler heads prevailed, the supermarket plans were ditched, and the historic buildings along Bridge Street were saved. Since then, the town has experienced a renaissance of sorts, with the arrival of charming retail shops, distinctive eateries and, yes, coffee shops.
Unfortunately, some businesses just don’t attract enough customers to survive. Even when they advertise and have sales and special events, sometimes there’s nothing you can do to pull people away from their TVs or to stop them from going to the local superstore instead. Just know this: unless we continue to support the independent businesses in our hometowns, they’re all doomed to the same fate as The Monkey.
So farewell to you, Celestial Monkey and Tea Café. I hardly knew ye.
The Missing Person was Gone
Nathan Peluso
The missing person was gone. No one knew where they went. They were gone now for some time. It was impossible to determine where they went, or why. Everyone first wondered where, then why. Both were important questions. At first the missing person’s absence was noted as a grave loss. People visualized this person next to them, in full color, smell, and nuance. They could see clearly everything about them. Even their voice was an unmistakable echo. Their smile arched and teeth glistened. This memory stood as more than a memory. It was the feeling and knowing of someone closely. Just yesterday, it seemed, they were here. But not today.
The rumor said that the person had left. They had gone. For the people, they felt as if there should be a reason. If someone were to leave, then they would do so for a reason. And it went by logic, they must have gone somewhere.
It was pointless searching. No one had any idea in which direction to look. They didn’t know where to look, for example at the restaurant or bar, or in the person’s room, or behind the couch. Perhaps in the woods or somewhere in the city. There wasn’t a place they could think of to find them. Instead of looking, the people went about their business. The people carried on with life as usual, with all things the same, except one thing. Only the missing person was different.
The people felt sad. Inside their stomach was an emptiness. There was an unmistakable longing. Inside they felt wounded deeply. On the outside things were the same. Life went on as usual. Birds flew, the trees leaves were green and changing towards fall. Cars drove past. Some days were good and bad, some gray. The river took its turn at being calm and winded, brown and a cool gray-green.
The missing person, they said, had gone. Somewhere they must be doing something. If they were not somewhere, then where were they? If they had gone for no reason, then what was the reason? No sensible person ever went nowhere for no reason.
This logic proved fateful for the people. Each day the longing in their stomach felt more empty and painful. Their pain wasn’t sharp, it was just an empty pain. It was a feeling only of loss. Soon, everyone was noticeably darker in spirit.
Although the missing person weighed deeply on their minds and souls, these feelings could not continue. Each day was misery.
Soon, the missing person was spoken of as the missing person. Soon thereafter, the people stopped talking about the missing person. Everyone still knew and remembered, but they didn’t speak of their loss.
Nothing was gone.
Life continued.
The Sand Pits
By Sloan Pellegrini
I remember when we had a country all our own,
We would visit in the heat of summer or the cold of snow,
The borders were trees and municipal roads,
The check points bon fires while the fireflies glowed
Prom queens, jocks, nerds, and hoods,
Stood under the stars in the shadows of woods,
While time stood still and the future was far,
And the honeydew air was light and charmed
An old steel town with old war stories,
A sand box of souls who dreamt of glory,
But the impermanent moon had cast its spell,
Father Time has bid the citizens farewell.
Captive
Her eyes find me
Big and bright
Hey, I know you
And then that smile
Oh, that smile
It pulls me in
And I’m hers
— VJB
At Mario’s Woodfired Pizzeria...life is good.
Stephanie Higgins
Suddenly, the cold night turns beautiful.
I watch as the flurries grow thicker and start melting on the glass.
Where I sit, on the inside of the window, is warm and comforting.
The sounds of laughter consume me as I pull my eyes away from the first signs of winter.
The restaurant itself is small and it forces me to be close to everyone in the room.
That’s part of the charm.
Glancing around my table, I smile.
Does it get any better?
Friends from a neighboring table hurry over offering a glass of their favorite wine and to share a slice of birthday cake.
The room grows louder as it erupts in singing.
The owner comes out of the kitchen,
wiping his hands on his apron.
Once they’re clean, he places one on my shoulder and asks
“What’s new?”
I look up from my chair with a kind glance
And then direct my eyes back to the outdoors.
I understand that the whole world isn’t always this happy
But you can’t help but feel hope
when you realize that you’re exactly where you belong in this moment.
Allow every new moment to be familiar,
every stranger to be a friend
and every sound a song.
THE UGLY DUCK
Don Bemis
Once upon a time there was an egg. It lay in a forgotten nest near the edge of a stream. A pile of feathers nearby may help explain why the nest was forgotten. If that is not enough of a clue, I will tell you that a fox was moping in the woods. There is a natural depressant in the flesh of fowl. Studies have shown that animals which eat birds get down in the mouth.
But enough of science. Back to our egg. A pair of passing mallards spied the nest. “Look, dear! I’d love to have that home!” The hen batted her ducky eyes at her mate and tried to frame her bill into a winsome smile.
“I’m not too sure,” he replied. “What about that pile of feathers?”
“Oh, pooh! You’re always looking at the dark side of things.” She tried to pout, but it looked pretty much like her smile. “That means the fox isn’t hungry. I’ll bet he’s off moping.” She batted her beady eyes again. “Puleeeeze? With cracked corn on top?”
“Puleeeeze” sounds pretty awful when said by a duck, unless the listener is another duck. The drake could not resist. “Well, okay.”
“Goody!” She pecked him on the cheek and waddled up the bank to inspect her new home.
“Ow!” he quacked.
She peered into the nest. “Ooh, look! A poor little baby, all alone in the world!” She felt the egg. “And it’s still a little warm!” Her maternal hormones kicked in, and she sat. The hen had several maternal hormones. Enough, in fact, that the egg was soon surrounded by six others. It was the largest, though. Eventually they all hatched. There were six fuzzy little ducklings with little yellow bills. And there was one other baby, slightly larger, with a mottled bill and a wrinkled face. It was a face only a mother could love, and even she cringed a bit.
The ducklings would walk together behind their mother to the water. Mostly together, that is. Six fuzzy mallards would march in line, singing insulting songs about their ugly brother. He would waddle along behind. The mother would pretend not to hear because, “Well, ducklings will be ducklings.” It was worse in the stream. Other families would be there so thirty or forty ducklings could torment the ugly one together. They would swim under water and nip his feet. It was fun for most of them.
Eventually all of the ducklings reached the half-grown stage somewhere between cute and sleek, where no adjective can describe their homeliness. However, they remained beautiful to their mothers and to each other. Except for the ugly one. His face grew more and more wrinkled. He grew more quickly than the rest, providing even more reason to taunt him. “Hey, Fatso!” they quacked one day. “Big as a goose and walks like a chicken!”
“Aw, leave me alone!” His voice was changing, and a peep crept into what he had intended to be a menacing quack. The other ducks laughed at him, then coalesced into a gangly mass and chased him off. The ugly duckling clambered ashore and waddled away. Eventually he passed a glassy pool and looked in. What he saw amazed him. He was no longer an ugly duckling. He was a Muscovy duck. And they are even uglier.
Now you know why Muscovy ducks have such rotten dispositions.
Tuesday morning Mexico
Nathan Peluso
Sinking into the sand, sinking into several days in a beach bungalow and ocean breeze, birds chirp and squawk, hippy’s music beat beat beat, hippies themselves reveling in the sun, the sun, the blue horizon at sunset and pink upon the billowing clouds, the Mayan stone temple perched upon the clifftop, the history clashing with modern tourists, modern Mayans, modern trash, boats with lofty hulls and red stripes, bugs of different sorts, mosquitoes at dusk, mosquitoes on your feet beneath the table, bamboo, palm trees, stray dogs with saltwater hair, fierce sunrise, a slow start to the day, nothing to do, three swims a day, rough November currents, local Mexican Baywatch guys peering off the distant shore, figures of people on the beach, hippies beating bongos bom bom bom, a drunk singing rapturously in the night “la!”, hammocks tied on trees, sagging in rooms, a sideways door that opens to the sea, a small mound of sand, the smell of grilled fish, the smell of raw fish, a French woman hanging clothes in your room, and rustling plastic bags, wearing a sunset blue blouse and thinking pensively, a man beneath the mosquito net, still in bed, red skin, tired natural bodies, sunglasses, wandering, scattering birds at the tidepool looking for dinner, scatter scatter, a funny waiter, pesos collected from the ATM machine, sombreros, vendors, cheesy busses, a long straight road with jungle on both sides, thoughts of future development, a deep breath and appreciation for what is now.
Now, a foot in the sand.
A body touched by one million pieces of sand.
Sand.
A sand floor.
I want to write a poem first
Francesco
I want to write a poem first
Before I get started
Because when I was driving
A thought struck me as poetic and meaningful
It was a thought of life
And a deep meaning
But I can’t remember the damn thought now
I can only remember driving
And thinking that I had one
In that thought, I became aware of my own previous ignorance
Suddenly that flash gave me an insight
Casting off all old feelings and ways of being
It allowed me to be free
If only for this thought
What was it? I can’t remember
How frustrating it is to type a poem
Like this, when you can’t even remember what it’s about
Only to know that it’s about a profundity
But I don’t know which one or why it mattered
Maybe I should get back in my car
Then I should drive backwards
Or I should go all the way back to where I came from
That way, there’s a good chance that the poetic realization will re-emerge
It will come back and strike me and this time I’ll be ready
But what if it doesn’t
What if I leave the coffee shop without ordering
Packed with all my things
And start that damned car again wasting all that fuel
Only to drive, and drive two and three times over
Hmm, I think that there’s a chance it will return on its own
With time, when I’m not trying
Very subtly, like a cool wind in Spring
Again that very important wisdom will return
No doubt
And with pen, and paper, I’ll trap it
Thursday, night
Punta Allen
Nathan Peluso
The roars of the village are still strong, you can hear them in the ecstatic cheer of the evening teenage girls soccer match, at each “boomp, boomp,” the booting of the ghostly white ball acrost lumpy beige sand, the jousting “raw-raw” of the player’s truest fans, the teenage boys, and the children gather atop a stand, a concreted fountain in disrepair or
behind a wind-torn fence, as streetlights lend sparingly to the scene.
“Boomp!” and the ball careens a post, “Aah!” screams and hoots the active crowd, participants no less than the players themselves. For in this town of several hundred amidst a jungle reserve, at the bottom of a winded peninsula, between sea and majestic lagoon, and not far away from its next Cat 5 storm, there is a life that is free as nature. And in the air, like the night, is a tranquility that only belies its remoteness, its fragility, and its temporality. This small refuge, an oasis of light in a world full of black, begs no more. Its sincerity of place can be found at a sunset or dawn.
Blink once in between and it’s gone.
ALIQUIPPA - A Brief Town History
Aliquippa, the county's most populous borough, seemingly grew overnight from the merger of three small villages, each with a history of its own.
While a relatively new community compared to others in the county, Aliquippa's traditions go back to the very beginning of colonial habitation in Beaver County. In the years before the Revolution, two Indian traders, successively, chose the fertile fields across the river from the old Indian village of Logstown to make a home. Alexander McKee, the first resident, built a cabin around 1769, but evidently did not stay too long. In 1771, John Gibson surveyed 300 acres, built a cabin, and planted crops, becoming the first colonial farmer in the county, although the same land along the river had been farmed by the Indians for many years.
Logstown, the Delaware Indian village, was across the river in Baden, but somehow the name was transferred to the stream on the west side of the Ohio. In turn, the small village near the stream mouth became known as Logstown Bottom.
The Reverend Andrew McDonald lived here when he became pastor of White Oak Flats Church in 1810. White Oak Flats was a large level area in the hills west of Logstown, and the site of an early Presbyterian Church, which for a long time was known by the same name. (It was later called Mt. Carmel.)
The Flats were bisected by Brodhead's Road in 1778, when the supply trail from Pittsburgh to Fort McIntosh (Beaver) was cut through the wilderness. Later, a road from the fertile Raccoon Creek valley to the Ohio River intersected the military trail, and a village grew up at the crossroads. In time the village became known as New Sheffield.
In 1877, while the Pittsburgh and Lake Erie Railroad was laying track through Logstown Bottom, a post office was established in the village. A new name, Woodlawn, was suggested by Mattie McDonald and adopted. The P. & L.E. built an amusement area north of Woodlawn, and named it Aliquippa Park. Soon an adjacent village had its own station, called Aliquippa. A shovel factory and other manufacturers located here and a townsite was laid out, incorporated in 1894 as Aliquippa Borough.
In the next decade or so, Aliquippa developed into a fair sized industrial town, while Woodlawn village, a few miles to the south, languished as a rural community, although the Woodlawn Academy and a Presbyterian church had been established near the station.
Everything changed, however, in 1906, when construction began for the huge Aliquippa works of the Jones and Laughlin Steel Company. Old Logstown disappeared while a new business district was constructed in the valley and plans of houses sprung up on every surrounding hill.
In 1926, Woodlawn, already the largest community in Beaver County, annexed New Sheffield from Hopewell Township, along with the land in between. In 1928, a merger was effected by a referendum of the voters with Aliquippa Borough, and the new borough retained the name of the smaller partner to better identify with the name of the steel works. (There is no historical evidence connecting the Indian Queen Aliquippa with the location of the borough. This was one of several Indian names selected arbitrarily by the P. & L.E. Railroad in 1878 for stations along the route. Others were Shannopin, now South Heights, and Monaca.)
Aliquippa's leaders were perplexed by the problems created by the automobile and the mobility it gave to people. The younger generations have chosen to build homes in neighboring suburban townships. The Franklin Avenue business district declined as shoppers found it more convenient to drive to the outlying shopping centers than to cope with traffic and parking problems downtown.
The old borough of Aliquippa became known as West Aliquippa (the second time it was named by the railroad.) In the 1960's J. & L. filled in Crow's Island, on the river side of town, and constructed a huge new steel producing facility there. The old town seems destined to be completely swallowed up by the mill, as many houses and buildings have been demolished.
New Sheffield has become the center of the community as many churches and businesses have relocated there, and also contains the borough's only elementary school.
In the last 15 years, most of the J. & L. Steel works has been shut down or demolished in along the Ohio in Aliquippa. The commissioners of Beaver County plan to use a large portion of that site to relocate the county jail. The Franklin Avenue business district is basically non-existent today. Its main purpose now is a throughway for Aliquippa residents to route 51, leading to Ambridge, South Heights, or Monaca.
Courtesy of Beaver County Bicentennial Atlas
WRITERS WELCOME!
Your stories, poems, and other musings are welcome
for publication in next edition of The Bridge.
Please send 500 words or less to:
ContactTheBridge@gmail.com
Or send a print copy to:
The Bridge
223 Washington Street
W. Bridgewater, PA 15009
We look forward to hearing from you!
Good News!
Two Ambridge natives, Dominic Mecchia and Cristina Aloe, who have spent much time working in other parts of the country, have returned to their hometown to work on a major feature film being distributed by Miramax, set to be released in 2009. Both are 1998 graduates of Ambridge Area High School.
Another 1998 Ambridge Graduate, John Homich, has made a huge stride as the contracted photographer for Bishop Zubik's recent installation. John is extremely talented and is proud to be carrying on the legacy of Sam Pelaia.
If you would like more information on either of these positive stories, please contact Cristina Aloe at 724-513-5052.
Thank you.
Like to Advertise in The Bridge?
The Bridge is accepting advertisements for its next issue. All proceeds will go towards the printing costs associated with the journal. We are a non-profit. The more advertising revenue we can bring in, the more copies of the newsletter we will be able to print and distribute.
Please send your completed ad (JPG or GIF format) to:
ContactTheBridge@gmail.com
Include any instructions, questions, or comments you may have along with the email. If you have trouble getting your advertisement into a computer format, please write to us and we will be glad to help.
For the next issue, business-card-size ads will run $35. Quarter-page ads are $75. The next issue of The Bridge will print approximately 400 issues (minimum), and it will be distributed to many Beaver County libraries, coffee shops, and places of business.
Thank you for your support!
Friday, February 29, 2008
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Issue 3 - Summer/Fall 2007
Putting a Positive Spin on Things
Valentine J. Brkich
Well, it’s been a while since you’ve last heard from us at The Bridge. Sorry. I guess we’ve been a little busy this summer.
I’ve been working on a nursery for our first child who is due in late September. Since I’m a writer and not a carpenter, you can see why this would be a time-consuming task. Luckily my father-in-law—who, unlike me, knows what a router is—has been generously donating much of his valuable time to the project.
My partner in crime and co-editor of The Bridge, Nate (a.k.a Raphael, a.k.a. Pete Striker, a.k.a. F. Nathan) has been busy this summer as well, but it has nothing to due with a nursery. He’s been overseas teaching English to students in Austria, a noble and exhausting undertaking.
So you can see why we haven’t had time to pump out a new issue in some time. But we finally found some time to get something down on paper—hence the latest issue, which now rests in your hands.
I’ve been feeling a little grumpy lately and was planning on using this issue as a soapbox, if you will, to air my grievances. You see, I’ve been listening to way too much talk radio lately. Especially during the afternoon from 12-3 p.m. on our beloved KDKA. This has proven to be a grave mistake on my part. It has done nothing but get my blood boiling and fill my mind with a boatload of negativity. This is never a good thing. Although I always strive to be positive, more than not I find myself focusing on the negative. This can be an extremely unhealthy practice, not just for myself but for those around me as well.
In light of this enlightenment, I’ve decided to change course and not use this issue as my own personal rant. Instead, I’d like to reiterate the purpose of The Bridge to the Beaver County community.
The Bridge is intended to be a positive, enlightening, informative, creative resource for the people of our communities. Today’s media is too focused on shock value and negative stories. Our local newspapers are filled with way too much negative news and way too little positive news. If you have something good to say, something that will be beneficial to the community, it seems impossible to get anyone to listen.
But not here.
The Bridge is your community journal. It is a place for the people of Beaver County to share their creative talents. It is both a literary journal and a community newsletter. It is a place to share your stories, your poems, your memories, your musings. It is also your platform for sharing good, positive news about your community. If you have some information you think would be of value to the rest of Beaver County, this is your tool for getting it out there. And we won’t charge you to print it like some other so-called “local” publications do.
For example, just a few weeks ago, from August 17 through August 19, my town of Bridgewater held the annual Beaver County River Regatta, which last year came back home to where it all started back in the 1970s. If you weren’t able to make it down to the event, it was a wonderful celebration. With the help of some beautiful, sunny summer weather, this year’s Regatta was even better than the last, with so much to see and do. It was the perfect example of the kind of family-oriented events that make this county so special. Thank you to all who participated in the Regatta and to all who helped to put it all together.
Also, on October 13, Bridgewater will be holding its annual Fall Festival from 10 a.m. - 6 p.m. on Bridge Street. The main street will be closed to allow for vendors and fun activities for the whole family. There will also be great live music all day long, including a performance by the talented singer/songwriter Joel Lindsay, a native of London, England. You really won’t want to miss it.
If you have similar good news about your community or school or organization, this is the place to publicize it. And again, we won’t charge you a penny to do it. Just send it along in an email to ContactTheBridge@gmail.com.
If you’d like to advertise in The Bridge, we can help you out there, too. Just send us an email today, or give me a call at 724.775.9815. We distribute The Bridge to all local cafes, coffee shops, public libraries and other places where people gather together. We can help you get the word out.
Once again I’d like to reiterate that The Bridge is here for you. We want to know about your positive, informative, beneficial good news. I’m going to do my part to be more positive by stopping listening to so much negative talk radio and by stopping reading all the negative news printed in the newspapers. It’s just no good for me, and I’m sure my wife will appreciate it. Now we just need you to do your part and share your good news with the rest of the Beaver County community.
The Bridge is your vehicle for spreading good news. Take advantage of it today.
ContactTheBridge@gmail.com
In Town
by Valentine J. Brkich
I see a lot of strange and remarkable things when I’m walking around Beaver and Bridgewater.
For example, a couple weeks ago I was walking in Bridgewater with my wife when we saw a man pushing a baby in a stroller. Nothing strange about that. What was strange was that the man was wearing a gasmask and had an air tank strapped to his back. Usually, such a sight would have alarmed me. But since the baby was sans mask, we figured the air was safe to breathe. I can’t explain what the man was doing. My guess is that he was acting on some sort of dare.
Then in Beaver the other day I witnessed a battle between a rabbit and a crow. I was running along River Road when I noticed the courageous hare fending off the rather large black bird. I assume the rabbit was protecting its young, which were probably nearby somewhere. It was quite a show of bravery on the rabbit’s part. The crow was twice its size. I did my part by chasing the bird a few blocks down the street, hopefully driving it away for good.
I feel very fortunate to live in such a walk-able community that allows for these types of bizarre and exciting encounters. We’re lucky to have so many safe, scenic, tree-lined streets and sidewalks to stroll along. Most people don’t have this.
I was in Fayetteville, NC, visiting a relative a couple months ago. The weather was nice, but there was no town. There were no shady streets and historic neighborhoods. There weren’t any parks with kids and dogs jumping around either. Neighborhoods were tucked away off the four-lane highway that seemed to stretch on forever. Every mile or so there was a strip mall or a fast-food joint and then another strip mall and another fast-food joint. And if you drove long enough, you’d see the same stores and restaurant chains again and again. It wasn’t a town. It wasn’t a community. It was just a place. A place without an identity.
Fayetteville reminded me of a similar “town” in Pennsylvania about 20 minutes northeast of here—a “town” that always talks of growth and progress. But is it really a town at all when you can go to the same stores, day after day, year after year, and not see a familiar face? I don’t think so.
Our towns aren’t perfect. We’ve seen some rough times, economically, and the population is a fraction of what it used to be. But we’ve persevered, nonetheless. We still have our downtowns and our historic neighborhoods and our brick streets and our community parks and our rivers and friendly people and so much more. And we are seeing changes every day as our towns evolve and become new again. In Aliquippa, Ambridge, Beaver, Beaver Falls, Bridgewater, Freedom, Midland, Monaca, New Brighton and Rochester, I see new stores and new life and new possibilities. What do you see?
When’s the last time you took a walk in your town? Put down the remote. Step away from the computer. Wash the car tomorrow. Put on your sneakers, head out the door and see what you discover. Keep your eyes open and take it all in. Take advantage of your town and all it has to offer. And when you see a man in a gasmask pushing a stroller, or a struggle for life between predator and prey, or anything else of note for that matter, write it down and send it to us. We’d love to hear about it. And so would your neighbors.
Feels Like Fall
Wind is blowing
Leaves are falling
Squirrels are hording
School bus rolling
Footballs flying
Towels a’swirling
Pumpkins growing
Lawnmowers slowing
Days are shortening
Nights are cooling
Pools are closing
Pace is slowing
Summer’s fading
Fall is knocking
Winter’s coming
Wind is blowing
—Valentine J. Brkich
Good News!
By Staff Writers
Jim Johnson of Beaver rides his bike to Giant Eagle for groceries with saddle bags.......now he's super happy! The new mayor of Beaver County (as yet to be determined) decides that connecting all of the towns with bike paths and walking trails is the best thing to do...and everyone unanimously agrees, and that’s how he becomes the new mayor of beaver county... Mary and Tom Hanover decide to stop shopping at all fake pharmacies like Right Aid, Eckurd, CeeVeeS, and instead get all their things either from their garden, local stores such as Giant Eagle or their hometown pharmacy, and by making it "Like it should be," says Tom. "I always felt like those weird box drug stores were trying to take over the town...like Aliens!" Big Gary Wendt of Center says he's had enough of driving and only will get by on his bike, walking, or taking the bus. Since he started three weeks ago, he's much happier now. Tracy Jones of Bridgewater has banned all strip malls from her shopping experience. In fact, she now only goes places with nice architecture. Val Brier-patch, also of Bridgewater, says now that he's "stopped listening to such fools as Honsman and K-Mill, and other right wing propogandists", his doctor says not only has Val’s blood-pressure dropped and he's lost ten pounds, but his rosy complexion can mean nothing less than he and his wife will have a baby soon, and everybody's happy! Nate Erikson and Dave McD of Beaver and Center respectively, decide to go out for drinks on their bikes. "Cops actually waved to us and gave us the Mentos smile" said Nate. Also, they got compliments from random passerby's; and three different chicks said that "That's cool, we dig bikes!", and "So do we!" added dave. The Women’s Federation of Beaver County, the FBC, decides unanimously last week to “only shop on Main Street”, or so it says in their new constitution, and this makes not only them happy, but their husbands too, so now, everybody’s happy!
GEOGRAPHY LESSON
By Don Bemis
We are on the bank of the Beaver River, more or less in the town of Beaver, in the county of Beaver, in the valley of Beaver, eight miles south of Beaver Falls where they built a dam (but not a beaver dam due to a beaver shortage) so there aren't any falls any more, about fifteen miles south of New Beaver which was new a long time ago, and sort of southwest of Big Beaver which isn't very big and isn't on the Beaver River. An Indian chief named King Beaver lived here more than two hundred years ago. When these folks find a name they like, they stick with it. We have a Beaver zip code but really live in Bridgewater, population 780, four streets wide, squeezed between the railroad and the river. It used to be called West Bridgewater to avoid confusion with another Bridgewater outside of Philadelphia. Now it's just called Bridgewater, and confusion reigns. Yahoo will tell you we live 321.4 miles from here. We don't.
In our Bridgewater, Bridge Street crosses Beaver River water via the Bridgewater-Rochester Bridge to get to Rochester on the opposite bank, where Bridge Street changes its name to Madison. Many Rochester streets are named after deceased Presidents who probably never made it to Rochester. There is no street named for President Garfield, who nearly drowned nearby. He was eventually assassinated instead, but not in Rochester.
The Bridgewater-Rochester Bridge is not to be confused with the Beaver-Rochester Bridge a block further south, where Highway 68 changes its name to Highways 68, 65, and 18 just in case somebody isn't lost yet. If you're in the wrong lane, you may find yourself on the Rochester-Monaca Bridge across the Ohio River. Meanwhile, back in Bridgewater, a block south of the Beaver-Rochester Bridge, a railroad bridge crosses Beaver River water right where it becomes Ohio River water. A different railroad bridge on a different railroad crosses Ohio River water - including former Beaver River water - on the line that separates Beaver from Bridgewater. Trains can't get from one train bridge to the other.
So Beaver isn't actually on the Beaver. Bridgewater is. The Beaver Valley nuclear plant isn't in the Beaver Valley. It's ten miles down the Ohio Valley, on the south bank in Shippingport, where they mostly ship electricity. If the plant were three miles further west, it would be in Chester, West Virginia (not to be confused with Rochester, Pennsylvania), within a stone's throw of the World's Largest Teapot, and across the water from East Liverpool, Ohio, which is a long way west of the more famous Liverpool. If the power plant were on the north side of the Ohio, it would be in Midland, Pennsylvania, which is about as far from the middle of the state as you can get without changing license plates. Midland is south of Ohioville, Pennsylvania. The World's Largest Teapot, by the way, was an ice cream stand. They didn't sell tea.
the re-integration project
by nathan peluso
a re-constitutional rough draft this fall, the reintegration project is going to focus primarily on one thing, a constitution – maybe even a ten commandment of sorts. this constitution/ten commandments is to re-outline, in no uncertain terms, the reintegration project theme which is, as you know: back to nature, back to the basics, back to a better understanding, and connection, for us all ................ thus... walk if thou can if thou cannot walk, bike if thou cannot bike, walk if thou must drive, do it sparingly if thou must purchase fuel, do it scornfully if thou sees a road, see it better as a field or forest if thou sees a field or forest, think of it as nature, not a road plant trees if thou can if thou cannot plant trees, plant shrubs and flowers plant shrubs or flowers even if thou can plant a tree cut down a tree only to plant three plant three only to plant three more breathe in clean air, from the tree remember that the tree, and the shrub, and the flower give back think of progress as more trees, not less think of development as planting trees, not cutting them away if thou sees a field, leave it that way if thou sees an old building, use it and make it better and if thou sees a field, again, plant a tree, or lay there and look at the sky think of trees as better left that way, or as friends if thou can plant a tree, do it and do it again think about what you need, if anything buy nothing, if you can buy local if thou must buy something buy from main street if thou can, and put food in the saddlebags of your bike buy from giant eagle if thou must, or because it’s from pittsburgh buy from the mall if you have to, or if your niece works there, if at all buy from cvs, rite aid, eckerd, & walmart, only if you hate yourself, and your town buy nothing and things might actually be better buy absolutely nothing, be happy with what you have, better yet think of buying as supplying only your wants think of not buying as supplying your needs buy nothing if thou can need much less if thou can too eat food that’s good, if thou can know what’s in it if it’s possible know what’s in everything, if possible at least care, if thou can if thou can read this far, then thou gets the point if thou can read history, think of it as a tree cut down plant another, walk, ride, eat good, buy local, be happy, be nice read the reintegration project, if thou really cares key: thou=you you=thou
bikingboyfrombeaver
by nathan peluso
there was a boy from beaver and he rode his bike so far one day that after a while he became tired but it didn’t really matter because he liked the river and he liked his neighbors and every now and then someone would wave and this made him happy at each peddle round and round and round and his skin could feel the cool breeze and the wind in his hair was refreshing and all around he saw goodness and beautiful things that reminded him of childhood and all the memories of growing up and of today because he was still just a boy and all the world was ahead of him even though today the sun was casting its last golden rays and falling slowly beyond the nice green hill which meant surely it was time to go home and so he turned the last bend towards that direction through the hills and past the farms and back again to the quaint village houses and all the people from his town and soon he could smell the bakery up ahead and he knew that his mom was so lucky to have such a good biking boy to pick up the bread and bring it home for dinner
Valentine J. Brkich
Well, it’s been a while since you’ve last heard from us at The Bridge. Sorry. I guess we’ve been a little busy this summer.
I’ve been working on a nursery for our first child who is due in late September. Since I’m a writer and not a carpenter, you can see why this would be a time-consuming task. Luckily my father-in-law—who, unlike me, knows what a router is—has been generously donating much of his valuable time to the project.
My partner in crime and co-editor of The Bridge, Nate (a.k.a Raphael, a.k.a. Pete Striker, a.k.a. F. Nathan) has been busy this summer as well, but it has nothing to due with a nursery. He’s been overseas teaching English to students in Austria, a noble and exhausting undertaking.
So you can see why we haven’t had time to pump out a new issue in some time. But we finally found some time to get something down on paper—hence the latest issue, which now rests in your hands.
I’ve been feeling a little grumpy lately and was planning on using this issue as a soapbox, if you will, to air my grievances. You see, I’ve been listening to way too much talk radio lately. Especially during the afternoon from 12-3 p.m. on our beloved KDKA. This has proven to be a grave mistake on my part. It has done nothing but get my blood boiling and fill my mind with a boatload of negativity. This is never a good thing. Although I always strive to be positive, more than not I find myself focusing on the negative. This can be an extremely unhealthy practice, not just for myself but for those around me as well.
In light of this enlightenment, I’ve decided to change course and not use this issue as my own personal rant. Instead, I’d like to reiterate the purpose of The Bridge to the Beaver County community.
The Bridge is intended to be a positive, enlightening, informative, creative resource for the people of our communities. Today’s media is too focused on shock value and negative stories. Our local newspapers are filled with way too much negative news and way too little positive news. If you have something good to say, something that will be beneficial to the community, it seems impossible to get anyone to listen.
But not here.
The Bridge is your community journal. It is a place for the people of Beaver County to share their creative talents. It is both a literary journal and a community newsletter. It is a place to share your stories, your poems, your memories, your musings. It is also your platform for sharing good, positive news about your community. If you have some information you think would be of value to the rest of Beaver County, this is your tool for getting it out there. And we won’t charge you to print it like some other so-called “local” publications do.
For example, just a few weeks ago, from August 17 through August 19, my town of Bridgewater held the annual Beaver County River Regatta, which last year came back home to where it all started back in the 1970s. If you weren’t able to make it down to the event, it was a wonderful celebration. With the help of some beautiful, sunny summer weather, this year’s Regatta was even better than the last, with so much to see and do. It was the perfect example of the kind of family-oriented events that make this county so special. Thank you to all who participated in the Regatta and to all who helped to put it all together.
Also, on October 13, Bridgewater will be holding its annual Fall Festival from 10 a.m. - 6 p.m. on Bridge Street. The main street will be closed to allow for vendors and fun activities for the whole family. There will also be great live music all day long, including a performance by the talented singer/songwriter Joel Lindsay, a native of London, England. You really won’t want to miss it.
If you have similar good news about your community or school or organization, this is the place to publicize it. And again, we won’t charge you a penny to do it. Just send it along in an email to ContactTheBridge@gmail.com.
If you’d like to advertise in The Bridge, we can help you out there, too. Just send us an email today, or give me a call at 724.775.9815. We distribute The Bridge to all local cafes, coffee shops, public libraries and other places where people gather together. We can help you get the word out.
Once again I’d like to reiterate that The Bridge is here for you. We want to know about your positive, informative, beneficial good news. I’m going to do my part to be more positive by stopping listening to so much negative talk radio and by stopping reading all the negative news printed in the newspapers. It’s just no good for me, and I’m sure my wife will appreciate it. Now we just need you to do your part and share your good news with the rest of the Beaver County community.
The Bridge is your vehicle for spreading good news. Take advantage of it today.
ContactTheBridge@gmail.com
In Town
by Valentine J. Brkich
I see a lot of strange and remarkable things when I’m walking around Beaver and Bridgewater.
For example, a couple weeks ago I was walking in Bridgewater with my wife when we saw a man pushing a baby in a stroller. Nothing strange about that. What was strange was that the man was wearing a gasmask and had an air tank strapped to his back. Usually, such a sight would have alarmed me. But since the baby was sans mask, we figured the air was safe to breathe. I can’t explain what the man was doing. My guess is that he was acting on some sort of dare.
Then in Beaver the other day I witnessed a battle between a rabbit and a crow. I was running along River Road when I noticed the courageous hare fending off the rather large black bird. I assume the rabbit was protecting its young, which were probably nearby somewhere. It was quite a show of bravery on the rabbit’s part. The crow was twice its size. I did my part by chasing the bird a few blocks down the street, hopefully driving it away for good.
I feel very fortunate to live in such a walk-able community that allows for these types of bizarre and exciting encounters. We’re lucky to have so many safe, scenic, tree-lined streets and sidewalks to stroll along. Most people don’t have this.
I was in Fayetteville, NC, visiting a relative a couple months ago. The weather was nice, but there was no town. There were no shady streets and historic neighborhoods. There weren’t any parks with kids and dogs jumping around either. Neighborhoods were tucked away off the four-lane highway that seemed to stretch on forever. Every mile or so there was a strip mall or a fast-food joint and then another strip mall and another fast-food joint. And if you drove long enough, you’d see the same stores and restaurant chains again and again. It wasn’t a town. It wasn’t a community. It was just a place. A place without an identity.
Fayetteville reminded me of a similar “town” in Pennsylvania about 20 minutes northeast of here—a “town” that always talks of growth and progress. But is it really a town at all when you can go to the same stores, day after day, year after year, and not see a familiar face? I don’t think so.
Our towns aren’t perfect. We’ve seen some rough times, economically, and the population is a fraction of what it used to be. But we’ve persevered, nonetheless. We still have our downtowns and our historic neighborhoods and our brick streets and our community parks and our rivers and friendly people and so much more. And we are seeing changes every day as our towns evolve and become new again. In Aliquippa, Ambridge, Beaver, Beaver Falls, Bridgewater, Freedom, Midland, Monaca, New Brighton and Rochester, I see new stores and new life and new possibilities. What do you see?
When’s the last time you took a walk in your town? Put down the remote. Step away from the computer. Wash the car tomorrow. Put on your sneakers, head out the door and see what you discover. Keep your eyes open and take it all in. Take advantage of your town and all it has to offer. And when you see a man in a gasmask pushing a stroller, or a struggle for life between predator and prey, or anything else of note for that matter, write it down and send it to us. We’d love to hear about it. And so would your neighbors.
Feels Like Fall
Wind is blowing
Leaves are falling
Squirrels are hording
School bus rolling
Footballs flying
Towels a’swirling
Pumpkins growing
Lawnmowers slowing
Days are shortening
Nights are cooling
Pools are closing
Pace is slowing
Summer’s fading
Fall is knocking
Winter’s coming
Wind is blowing
—Valentine J. Brkich
Good News!
By Staff Writers
Jim Johnson of Beaver rides his bike to Giant Eagle for groceries with saddle bags.......now he's super happy! The new mayor of Beaver County (as yet to be determined) decides that connecting all of the towns with bike paths and walking trails is the best thing to do...and everyone unanimously agrees, and that’s how he becomes the new mayor of beaver county... Mary and Tom Hanover decide to stop shopping at all fake pharmacies like Right Aid, Eckurd, CeeVeeS, and instead get all their things either from their garden, local stores such as Giant Eagle or their hometown pharmacy, and by making it "Like it should be," says Tom. "I always felt like those weird box drug stores were trying to take over the town...like Aliens!" Big Gary Wendt of Center says he's had enough of driving and only will get by on his bike, walking, or taking the bus. Since he started three weeks ago, he's much happier now. Tracy Jones of Bridgewater has banned all strip malls from her shopping experience. In fact, she now only goes places with nice architecture. Val Brier-patch, also of Bridgewater, says now that he's "stopped listening to such fools as Honsman and K-Mill, and other right wing propogandists", his doctor says not only has Val’s blood-pressure dropped and he's lost ten pounds, but his rosy complexion can mean nothing less than he and his wife will have a baby soon, and everybody's happy! Nate Erikson and Dave McD of Beaver and Center respectively, decide to go out for drinks on their bikes. "Cops actually waved to us and gave us the Mentos smile" said Nate. Also, they got compliments from random passerby's; and three different chicks said that "That's cool, we dig bikes!", and "So do we!" added dave. The Women’s Federation of Beaver County, the FBC, decides unanimously last week to “only shop on Main Street”, or so it says in their new constitution, and this makes not only them happy, but their husbands too, so now, everybody’s happy!
GEOGRAPHY LESSON
By Don Bemis
We are on the bank of the Beaver River, more or less in the town of Beaver, in the county of Beaver, in the valley of Beaver, eight miles south of Beaver Falls where they built a dam (but not a beaver dam due to a beaver shortage) so there aren't any falls any more, about fifteen miles south of New Beaver which was new a long time ago, and sort of southwest of Big Beaver which isn't very big and isn't on the Beaver River. An Indian chief named King Beaver lived here more than two hundred years ago. When these folks find a name they like, they stick with it. We have a Beaver zip code but really live in Bridgewater, population 780, four streets wide, squeezed between the railroad and the river. It used to be called West Bridgewater to avoid confusion with another Bridgewater outside of Philadelphia. Now it's just called Bridgewater, and confusion reigns. Yahoo will tell you we live 321.4 miles from here. We don't.
In our Bridgewater, Bridge Street crosses Beaver River water via the Bridgewater-Rochester Bridge to get to Rochester on the opposite bank, where Bridge Street changes its name to Madison. Many Rochester streets are named after deceased Presidents who probably never made it to Rochester. There is no street named for President Garfield, who nearly drowned nearby. He was eventually assassinated instead, but not in Rochester.
The Bridgewater-Rochester Bridge is not to be confused with the Beaver-Rochester Bridge a block further south, where Highway 68 changes its name to Highways 68, 65, and 18 just in case somebody isn't lost yet. If you're in the wrong lane, you may find yourself on the Rochester-Monaca Bridge across the Ohio River. Meanwhile, back in Bridgewater, a block south of the Beaver-Rochester Bridge, a railroad bridge crosses Beaver River water right where it becomes Ohio River water. A different railroad bridge on a different railroad crosses Ohio River water - including former Beaver River water - on the line that separates Beaver from Bridgewater. Trains can't get from one train bridge to the other.
So Beaver isn't actually on the Beaver. Bridgewater is. The Beaver Valley nuclear plant isn't in the Beaver Valley. It's ten miles down the Ohio Valley, on the south bank in Shippingport, where they mostly ship electricity. If the plant were three miles further west, it would be in Chester, West Virginia (not to be confused with Rochester, Pennsylvania), within a stone's throw of the World's Largest Teapot, and across the water from East Liverpool, Ohio, which is a long way west of the more famous Liverpool. If the power plant were on the north side of the Ohio, it would be in Midland, Pennsylvania, which is about as far from the middle of the state as you can get without changing license plates. Midland is south of Ohioville, Pennsylvania. The World's Largest Teapot, by the way, was an ice cream stand. They didn't sell tea.
the re-integration project
by nathan peluso
a re-constitutional rough draft this fall, the reintegration project is going to focus primarily on one thing, a constitution – maybe even a ten commandment of sorts. this constitution/ten commandments is to re-outline, in no uncertain terms, the reintegration project theme which is, as you know: back to nature, back to the basics, back to a better understanding, and connection, for us all ................ thus... walk if thou can if thou cannot walk, bike if thou cannot bike, walk if thou must drive, do it sparingly if thou must purchase fuel, do it scornfully if thou sees a road, see it better as a field or forest if thou sees a field or forest, think of it as nature, not a road plant trees if thou can if thou cannot plant trees, plant shrubs and flowers plant shrubs or flowers even if thou can plant a tree cut down a tree only to plant three plant three only to plant three more breathe in clean air, from the tree remember that the tree, and the shrub, and the flower give back think of progress as more trees, not less think of development as planting trees, not cutting them away if thou sees a field, leave it that way if thou sees an old building, use it and make it better and if thou sees a field, again, plant a tree, or lay there and look at the sky think of trees as better left that way, or as friends if thou can plant a tree, do it and do it again think about what you need, if anything buy nothing, if you can buy local if thou must buy something buy from main street if thou can, and put food in the saddlebags of your bike buy from giant eagle if thou must, or because it’s from pittsburgh buy from the mall if you have to, or if your niece works there, if at all buy from cvs, rite aid, eckerd, & walmart, only if you hate yourself, and your town buy nothing and things might actually be better buy absolutely nothing, be happy with what you have, better yet think of buying as supplying only your wants think of not buying as supplying your needs buy nothing if thou can need much less if thou can too eat food that’s good, if thou can know what’s in it if it’s possible know what’s in everything, if possible at least care, if thou can if thou can read this far, then thou gets the point if thou can read history, think of it as a tree cut down plant another, walk, ride, eat good, buy local, be happy, be nice read the reintegration project, if thou really cares key: thou=you you=thou
bikingboyfrombeaver
by nathan peluso
there was a boy from beaver and he rode his bike so far one day that after a while he became tired but it didn’t really matter because he liked the river and he liked his neighbors and every now and then someone would wave and this made him happy at each peddle round and round and round and his skin could feel the cool breeze and the wind in his hair was refreshing and all around he saw goodness and beautiful things that reminded him of childhood and all the memories of growing up and of today because he was still just a boy and all the world was ahead of him even though today the sun was casting its last golden rays and falling slowly beyond the nice green hill which meant surely it was time to go home and so he turned the last bend towards that direction through the hills and past the farms and back again to the quaint village houses and all the people from his town and soon he could smell the bakery up ahead and he knew that his mom was so lucky to have such a good biking boy to pick up the bread and bring it home for dinner
Issue 2 - Spring 2007
(first published March 2007)
MYTHS OF OUR TIME
Intro
In this issue of The Bridge, we wanted to focus on various myths of our time. Myths have been used for thousands of years to explain things. The Greeks and Romans, for instance, used myths to explain just about everything in the universe. Myths, however, can also come about from fear and misinformation. Over time, myths can have a negative effect on a community by halting growth and progress. Throughout this issue you will find various myths that we’d like bust. We hope that by doing so we can help to improve the quality of life for everyone in our community. If you have any other myths you’d like to bust, we’d love to hear about them. Please drop us an email at ContactTheBridge@gmail.com.
the republican
myth
any invented story, idea, or concept: his account of the event is pure myth.
an imaginary or fictitious thing or person.
an unproved or false collective belief that is used to justify a social institution
a fiction or half-truth, especially one that forms part of an ideology
-the reintegration project-
breathe deeply, think about it, and pause
pause, while the reintegration project takes a minor breath too, realizing that the word is not written in vain – for you are reading it now – and the two have come together… by a leap you say, to the age still of the black and white page, the times of thought and mind and the unbegotten word, and where language – the communication which entails bridges and spaces and understanding and unity and the medium which makes them possible – still thrives, and still, you would think, have value.
are we getting closer to the one word, the one sound of the universe, the mighty OM…? ….i beg to answer NO… at least not in spirit.
so then are we getting farther?
pause, breathe deeply, and think about it
re-integration, coming back, a unity – as in a book, a dictionary per se, two covers of one magical fantastic book
or a coin, two sides, each bestowing worth and contribution, to the one unanimous circle
not (if i may digress)… like today’s America… not like here, not like us, not like now. not like the supposed proud contributors to this fine nation. and not, especially, like the republicans and democrats. no! not at all.
for what should be the supporting bounded covers or the symbolic guilded sides, is instead two duplicated covers and two lonely books, two fascist sides and two strange coins. and the math no longer works. it’s a zero sum game, each taking all and giving nothing. the equation has been ruined. and each making different meaning from the same single word. the words mean nothing. why speak then, or write, when it means only one separate thing? why only detract, eliminate, and divide? as it’s the people, so divided. those utilizing their vicious words, so wrong. even the fundamental principles, or first sacred allegiances, have failed to mean anything: the republic
tell me dear reader, from ye deepest political soul, what is the bother? why not bring the words together? pray tell what is a republican and how that may differ from a democrat…
well, a democrat with an elected representative is indeed what? you guessed… a republican. for a republican is a person who values the idea of republic, a government system of elected representatives, where the people in equal measure, vote for this role. and a democrat, in the modern age of nondirect, parliamentary democracy, is entirely, exactly the same.
and if you’re bored, look at the thesaurus under republic and what might you see? the word democracy… and vice versa. in the modern these terms are but the same, interchangeable.
logic 101: if a democrat is one who supports democracy and a republican is one who supports a republic, and if democracy equals republic, then a democrat equals a republican – by definition.
maybe that’s ok.
so tell me then, what’s indeed the fuss? if so similar, why then the need for riotous loudmouth propagandists?
for these names are as equal as a singular orb, in reality. in the common day, where town meetings (as in direct democracy) aren’t so practical, both republican and democrat stand for the same thing. they consist of systems of government where representatives carry on the will of the people, where each person has equal turn to vote, for in each of us lies the whole of everything.
accepted.
now what? what then of today’s conservatives and liberals? in the great book these are two words, again, under one cover. certainly not one word. but in america today, they are two words of two books, each denying the other, between it’s covers. ‘you don’t belong in my book” said the conservative… “nor you mine” said the liberal.
so you see - this is only a farce, and certainly something’s wrong. how can two words hate each other you may say? they are just in one book. then take these words from the ring, dear reader. eliminate these words from the political process to help us see the true words, the true meaning, and how they are not diametrically opposed opposites. don’t shift all life into one of these categories as if these are life and death. instead look squarely as things come along. instead of calling a spade a liberal, call a spade a spade. and while you’re at it, call an oil hungry war mongerer a oil hungry war mongerer. call the decline of the world environment, our fault, cause at least to some degree it is. call social inequity and weakening of the middle class just that. forget a label that has no real bearing on the idea it’s attached to. leave these words in the book. don’t call ice cream a republican pig. rather, call halliburton the company that took all your hard-earned tax money and ran.
but first, while the book is still open, (keep it open!) call a liberal someone who is open minded, someone with a ‘live and let live’ attitude. and call a conservative someone who is just fine the way things are, one who holds value to tradition and seeks solace in unchanging times..
and for the future of humanity, if you feel estranged, call forth the yin of your yang, and:
debate
- consider something; deliberate
- engage in argument by discussing opposing points
discuss
- to not be a blabbering self righteous idiot
compromise
- something that combines qualities or elements of different things
think about how you align yourselves, ye political souls. think about your soul and your home. think about the reintegration project. two words or three: one entailing a beginning, one entailing bringing things together, and one implying an end. make this project of yours to understand, again, just like your grandparents and even those before. come back to the value and the meaning! come back to two sides of one debate! come back to two sides of one fine land!
the reintegration project thus asks again: bring it all together, not apart! let words and meaning be uniting, not divisive, right, not wrong.
pause, breathe deeply, think about it
your lungs, dear reader, there are two of them… aren’t there
“In our every deliberation, we must consider the impact of our decisions on the next seven generations.” –Guiding principle of the Iroquois Confederacy
MYTH: One Person Can’t Make a Difference
If you’ve been paying attention to the news in last couple months, you’ve no doubt heard how the major scientists and leaders of the world have finally decided to accept that global warming is indeed happening and that the planetary clock is ticking. DUH! I mean, thanks for the newsflash, guys, but people like Al Gore (the former next President of the U.S.) have been trying to tell us this for over 30 years. If we would’ve listened back then, maybe we wouldn’t be in the mess we are today. And we are in quite a mess.
But all blame aside, it’s time to stop pointing fingers and time to start doing something about this problem that is threatening our very existence. But what can one person do? I hear this all the time. What difference does it make if I recycle? What difference does it make if I drive less? Honestly, it makes all the difference in the world.
The myth is that the actions of one of two people can’t prevent the harmful effects of global warming. But this couldn’t be more untrue. The little things you do can make a huge impact on the health of the planet and, more importantly, your actions will inspire others to do the same. Once people see how easy it is to make a difference, they’ll be more inclined to make the necessary changes to their lifestyle.
So what can you do? Plenty. For starters, pick up a copy of Living Green by Greg Horn and read it from cover to cover. (WARNING: This may require you to turn off the television for a while!) You can get a copy at www.Wellbeing.com, an invaluable site on the “green” lifestyle.
In the meantime, here’s a few facts to show you how the little things you do can really make a difference:
• Properly insulating your home can save tons of energy and it can save you money too.
• If every American replaced just three regular lightbulbs with energy-saving fluorescent ones, it would be the same as taking three million cars off of the road.
• Using recycled papers (facial tissues, toilet paper, paper towels, etc.) can save millions of trees each year (Remember: trees remove carbon dioxide from the environment.)
• Buy reusable products! Eighty percent (80%) of all products we buy are thrown away after one use.
• Bring your own reusable grocery bags to the supermarket. Collectively we use over 1 trillion (1,000,000,000,000) plastic bags each year!
• Offset your entire yearly carbon footprint by donating just $99 to www.carbonfund.org.
• Plant a tree. One tree will absorb one ton of carbon dioxide over its lifetime.
(Source: Living Green, by Greg Horn (Freedom Press, 2006))
An Open Letter to Fred
Fred,
Why are you so against environmentalism? Why are you so defensive when someone brings up global warming? Al Gore has been studying global warming for over 30 years; how long have you been studying it? You call him a "loon" and a “green weinie”, I assume because you don't agree with him politically. But this is not a political issue, Fred; it's a global issue that affects us all.
Let's just say there is no proof that humans are negatively affecting the environment by raising the carbon levels (even though there is boatloads of it). Even if there's just a tiny chance that we are, don't you think it's irresponsible to flatly deny the validity of the global warming claims? Yes the earth's temperatures have gone up and down over the life of the planet, but never to this extreme.
I just don't understand why anyone would not want to do whatever he or she could to lessen the human impact on the environment. There are only two reasons why anyone can be against the environmental movement: 1) They are being paid off by Big Business, which doesn't want to decrease emissions or pay the money to switch to more environment-friendly fuel sources; or 2) they are lazy and selfish and they don't want to recycle, or use a rake instead of a leaf-blower, or drive a high-efficiency vehicle instead of their beloved SUV.
I would just like to know why you’re so set on denying the global warming theory? Because from out here, it sounds like you just refuse to accept that a Democrat (gasp!) like Al Gore could possibly be right on anything.
MYTH: Non-Smoking Will Hurt My Business
This is one of those myths that really makes me nuts. I hear it all the time: Non-smoking laws may work in big cities like New York or L.A., but here in Beaver County, non-smoking legislation will put our small bars and restaurants out of business.
Baloney.
In fact, the effect will be the exact opposite. Take me, for example. I rarely go out to bars or nightclubs or anywhere else where smoking is permitted. Although I’d like to, I just can’t stand breathing in second-hand smoke all night long. And I hate coming home reeking of smoke. It gets in your clothes and your hair and makes everything stink.
Now, if they made it illegal to smoke in public places, I would go out much more often. And I’m not alone. There are many more of us non-smokers than there are smokers. And many of these, just like me, refuse to patronize any bar or restaurant that permits smoking.
Of course you have the people that argue that many of these “mom and pop” establishments are traditionally “shot and a beer” locations where 99 percent of the clientele are smokers. Although this may be true, it doesn’t mean that these establishments won’t be able to transform their image and welcome an entirely new base of customers.
And to all the smokers out there, please don’t tell me that a smoking ban would infringe upon your rights. Let’s be honest here. We all know that second-hand smoke is hazardous to your health. Smokers do not have a right to put the health of others in jeopardy just because they don’t care about theirs. I’ve heard the argument too many times: “If you don’t like the smoke, go somewhere else.” We all know this is backwards logic. There are many more non-smokers than smokers out there. The majority of people do not smoke. Therefore, the majority should be able to work or dine in a smoke-free environment.
I walked into my local borough building the other day and was stunned to find the entire building filled with smoke. It was almost unbearable. I shouldn’t have to walk into a public office and put my health at risk simply because someone else is addicted to cigarettes.
Look…the purpose of this article isn’t to bash the smokers out there. It’s to debunk the myth that Beaver County is too set in it’s ways to transition to a non-smoking attitude. It’s not. It’s working in cities all over the world, big and small. Restaurants and bars aren’t going out of business; they’re thriving. Sure, sometimes it takes time for people to adjust. But isn’t that true with any type of change?
One last thing: It was once believed that a good “bleeding” could cure just about any illness out there. For thousands of years, people thought the world was flat. Not too long ago, Vanilla Ice was cool. Don’t fear new ideas. Embrace them. You just may find the world a better place.
MYTH: Living Green is Hard
The biggest complaint I hear about “green” living or environmentally friendly living is that it’s difficult. It’s too much work, they say. Who has time to separate recyclables and then haul them off somewhere? My neighbor waters his lawn everyday; why shouldn’t I be able to do the same? I don’t even know where to buy environment-friendly cleaning products for my house.
Have you ever heard of a whinier bunch of excuses? Sure, living in-tune with the planet isn’t always easy. But when you think of the alternative—global warming, worldwide flooding, polluted water reservoirs, species extinction, an inhabitable planet—living green doesn’t sound that hard after all.
When I talk about “living green” I mean living in harmony with the planet and making responsible choices to help preserve the earth for future generations. Too many of us are living in the “now,” and this is causing great harm to the planet. If we continue this lifestyle of waste and carelessness, our future generations—our children and theirs—won’t have much of a planet left to live on.
In order to get you started on the path to a more environment-friendly lifestyle, I’ve put together a list of a few simple things you can do right away with little or no effort.
1. Americans produce over 1,600 lbs. of garbage per person, per year. If you don’t already, START RECYCLING—even if it’s not mandated in your area. It’s really not that difficult. First, pick up three garbage cans at your local store and label them for “Glass”, “Plastic” and “Aluminum.” Put them in the garage or outside somewhere where they’ll be easy to access. Once they’re filled, take them to your local recycling center for processing. You can find your recycling locations online at www.dep.state.pa.us/dep/deputate/airwaste/wm/RECYCLE/Recycle.htm.
2. Use fluorescent bulbs. Yes they’re a little more expensive than normal lightbulbs, but fluorescent bulbs use much less energy and can last up to 10,000 hours longer! In time, you’ll make all your money back and then some.
3. Take a walk. Need to go to the bank or to the corner store? Leave the car in the garage and take a walk. It’s not only good for the environment; it’s good for you too!
4. Buy a water filter. Americans drink billions of gallons of bottled water every year. Worldwide, we create 1.5 billions of plastic garbage annually, all of which either ends up in landfills or on the side of the road. Forget the bottled water and buy yourself a water filter and a nice, glass-lined travel mug. You’ll not only cut down on plastic waste, but you’ll also protect yourself from the dangerous chemicals that can leach out of plastic water bottles.
5. It’s just grass—get over it! Why in the world do we water our lawns and spray them with hazardous chemicals to make them grow, only to then go and cut it once or sometimes twice a week? It’s insane. Furthermore, it’s terrible for the environment. Did you know that running a standard lawnmower for just one half hour produces more exhaust than driving a care 187 miles? Let’s stop the insanity. Having a greener lawn than your neighbor doesn’t make you special; it just makes you tired. Instead, let nature handle the watering and forget all those nasty chemicals. Use various landscaping options to replace grass like mulch, stone or even a wildflower garden.
6. Did you know that we wash over 32 million pounds of toxic chemicals down our drains each year, most of which are from household cleaning products. Instead of spending a ton of money on these toxic cleaning supplies, why not use safe ingredients like baking soda, white vinegar, lemon juice, borax, vegetable-based liquid soap, and washing soda to do your cleaning? They work just as well as those fancy brand names and they won’t harm the environment.
Of course, these are just a few simple ways you can start living a better, more earth-friendly lifestyle. For more great tips, visit www.wellbuilding.com or any number of great “green” sites out on the Web.
(Source: Living Green, by Greg Horn (Freedom Press, 2006))
Recycling Location
Beaver County Department of Waste Management Recycling Center
Route 51
BEAVER, PA 15009
Phone: (724) 843-2868
Days/Hours: This site is open on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday 9am to 4pm and on the first and third Saturday of each month 9am to 1pm.
Web Link: http://www.co.beaver.pa.us/
For other recycling options, check your local fire department or municipal authority.
Travelogue (Mine)
By Valentine Brkich
Trepidation and uncertainty
But good intentions
The same path
But always new
Crumbling concrete of past lives
And a prayer
Thoughts race
Thoughts erase
As heart pounds
And legs ache
A remnant
Of a past journey
The climb
And the bricks
The bricks
Wishes and wondering
A certain goal
Uncertain
Alabaster spires
And faded stones
Lives lived
And lost
Too soon
Sudden hope
An old memory
Best forgotten
Is that all she wants?
Almost home
Hope and strength
Falling free
Down the slope
Past love and memory
And history
Marked for obliteration
Something new
Brings to mind
The winter cold
Soon to come
Sudden rebirth
Only to die again
But still live on
Until the end
And back
To the beginning
Again.
One Man’s First Crack at Motherhood
by Valentine J. Brkich
Recently I became a mother for the first time. Let me preface this by saying that I am a 31-year-old man.
It all started when I returned home to find three baby birds on my driveway. One was deceased; the other two were alive but obviously shaken. There’s a nest in the awning above my front porch and I assume they attempted to fly before their time. Kids.
After a brief funeral service for the deceased bird involving a shovel and a garbage can, I turned my attention to the two newest additions to my family. My in-laws are always hinting that they’d like some grandchildren. I guess beggars can’t be choosy.
First I carefully placed the birds on an old sweatshirt, which I then placed inside an empty planter. Then, with the birds resting comfortably, I grabbed my spade and set out to find them some proper nourishment, i.e., worms and other slimy things.
A few minutes later I returned to the nest for my first official bird feeding. This was sure to be a daunting task considering I still have some trouble feeding myself (just ask my wife). Lacking a beak, I was forced to think of another way to feed the birds. In a moment of inspiration, I went to the garage and retrieved a pair of needle-nose pliers, which sort of resembled a beak. Most importantly, they enabled me to feed the birds without actually touching the slimy worms. Ugh.
When I returned to the “nest,” I found that the birds had buried themselves within the folds of my sweatshirt. I was stumped. I remind you: I am not a bird. How could I get these baby birds to come out and eat? Of course I did the first thing that came to mind: I chirped.
To my surprise the two birds emerged from underneath the shirt and opened their mouths in anticipation. One by one, I lowered each slimy, squirming worm into the mouths of the hungry birds, one of which nearly swallowed the pliers whole. Next I fed each bird one or two of these beetle-type things that I found under a rock. The sparrows inhaled them like chocolate cheesecake.
It was an amazing moment. Here I was, a 31-year-old collector of Star Wars memorabilia, successfully feeding and caring for a pair of orphaned sparrows. It was a proud moment.
I haven’t figured out what to name the two birds just yet. I read somewhere that “Jacob” and “Emily” are the two most popular names for babies nowadays. Then again, why bother naming them when they’re just going to fly away someday and leave me forever. How’s that for gratitude!
A Website a Day
ClimateCrisis.net
CarbonFund.org
18seconds.org
SeventhGeneration.com
NaturalHomeandGarden.com
AHappyPlanet.com
NextGenerationEarth.org
GlobalResourceOptions.com
Nontoxic.com
EERE.gov
Organic.org
Healthyhome.com
Greenfeet.com
Natureworks.com
SolarEnergy.com
3Phases.com
RenewableChoice.com
WorldwideViewofGlobalWarming.com
SafeClimate.net/calculator
Dep.state.pa.us
I’m Gone Now
by Jessica K. Freed (May 25, 1987 – November 2, 2004)
So my angel has come for me, to bring me to heaven.
Cry for me not, my loved ones. I’ll be watching over you
Until we meet again in Heaven, where there is peace, love and not hate.
Don’t be angry with Him, for He has called for me
To join Him in Heaven with the rest of the angels.
Rejoice in life, remember the good times when I was with you,
The laughter and all of the fun we had together.
The way I was, dream of me.
Remember me, not sick, but in good health.
Remember my face, voice, and tell people about me,
What I was like, the things I loved and things I hated.
How much I loved you without any questions.
Maybe one day I’ll be the angel reaching out my hand to you
To come with me to Heaven.
I will always be with you in your hearts,
So love me when I’m gone.
In Town
Lent is one of my favorite times of year. This is a 40-day period, excluding Sundays, between Ash Wednesday (Feb. 21) to Easter Sunday (April 8). For Catholics, it’s a time of reflection, repentance and sacrifice. You’re supposed to deprive yourself of something in order to better understand Jesus’ 40 days in the desert when he was presented various temptations by Satan.
This year for Lent I gave up French fries. This not might seem like much, considering Jesus fasted for the full 40 days. But then again, I really like French fries. And I mean really. When I go out to dinner, I’ll order just about anything as long as it comes with fries. When the food comes, I always eat the fries first. If I have any room left over, I may have a little of the main course. But I always make sure to eat the fries.
Actually, I gave up all fried food, but the fries are what really hurt. The only fried food I allow myself is fish. Catholics are supposed to abstain from meat and eat only fish on Fridays. And of course, since this is Beaver County, just about all the fish is battered and deep-fried. Therefore, I really look forward to Friday and my weekly trip to Micky D’s!
Some people would say a great meal is “surf and turf.” Others relish the upscale taste of escargot or caviar. For me few meals are as satisfying as two McDonald’s Filet-O-Fish sandwiches and a large Shamrock Shake. The Shamrock Shake is a special treat because it’s available for a limited time only—during Lent. Therefore every Friday at lunch you can find me heading for the “Golden Arches” for my favorite Lenten delicacy.
Now, I don’t know the exact nutritional value of this meal, but I think I can safely assume that it’s about as healthy as a bowl of Crisco. Therefore, in order to defeat the guilt (a common struggle with Catholics) I decided to walk to McDonald’s with my wife in order to cancel out the high caloric value of my favorite meal. I live in Bridgewater and the closest McDonald’s is approximately 2.5 miles away. I figured a nice five-mile jaunt would cancel out the negative effects of my indulgence.
By the time we made it to Micky D’s, I had built up quite an appetite. I devoured those two sandwiches in mere seconds. Then I sucked down that minty green milkshake so fast that I got a brainfreeze. It was definitely worth the pain, though. The only problem was that I was now pretty tired and had another 2.5 miles to walk back home. On the way to the restaurant I had the proper motivation. But now the carrot was no longer dangling in front of me.
Of course my wife and I finally made it back to Bridgewater. It took us a little while longer with our stomachs full of fish (supposedly) and mine also filled with liquid shamrock.
And in case you’re wondering, yes, it was extremely difficult to go to McDonald’s and not get any French fries. But I’m a good Catholic boy and I had to stick to my pledge. Now I’m just looking forward to Easter Sunday when I plan to eat French fries for breakfast lunch and dinner. After that I’ll head up to the Medical Center for an angioplasty.
A complex relation was established between three men:
GeeBuboo, a firecracker… red and feisty
…He would snap right in your face
SahDemko Iljanirou Muestashia, a full-bodied dictator
…He would hold you down with his careful eyes, while his people did the rest
And Ooomi Benigma, one might call him the raccoon of the East
…He was the first in the trash, and the first to put it on the ground
In addition to these three men, there was also a fourth man:
Unanimous Nahtanio, a Spanish Warlord with a utilitarian bent
…He was the first to say Yah, and the last to say Pah
They became acquainted with one another…
During the fiscal year Aught One
High upon the Solar System Atom, named after the smallest particle, a long time ago
And far beyond the reach of the Ordinary Man, another creature,
And outside the Quadrispecs, one of Time Motion Space and Typical Living
These four men came together by forming each other into a full complex being
And then, they thought about one another complexly,
Each one’s internal characteristics grew alongside the blossoming outer
Each could see the other in full color: RED, BROWN, BLUE, GREEN, YELLOW
Those were the colors; WHITE was saved for the contrast within the eye
BLACK, for the scourge upon the soul and hinterland which WHITE would not converge
Everybody ran around these men, Rumpfinder McDonyaldi was the foremost
…He would kill anybody in his path, that’s what he told the rest;
Once he said, “Stand Back, lest you be Killed!”
What would you do? But, nonetheless, the little gray figures ran around upon the set
Fires were set, monumental crowds formed, dust and sands flew and muddled the scene
The crowd of Ordinary Men stood and watched these little figurines,
In fact they were the crowd, or this was just a mirror;
Even the Quadrispecs were on the inside,
Only they weren’t aware of the attention and they continued in their blindish fashion
Like goldfish in a bowl dreaming of the ocean but knowing only the comforts of bowl;
They took the color ORANGE all to themselves
One day, all four of these men died… They were killed as Rumpfinder had foretold
Rumpfinder was dead too… he too had been killed.
And the gray figurines turned on the set and waited for forms to arise from the rubble
-Mepanbahoo-
I feel there is a figure
By the name Mepanbahoo
He is famous and has powers
And he is from a different country asides from our own
From here
This man resides, or looks out
To America
Like an Indian, but not
Like an African, but not
Nebulous
Enigmatic
But not really, because we know him
Not me, though someone does
For I feel as if his name were mentioned
On the news, television
Or National Public Radio, stating
“Our prominent leader today met with Mepanbahoo”
As I heard this once, and many times
Also, other countries know of him too
They also meet with him
For diplomacy, for consultation, for empathy
For at times,
Maybe this is what you do
When you get older, or have a country
Then, you meet with Mepanbahoo
Though no one really listens
Or heeds his humble thoughts and wisdom
I really don’t know why
Or really, if this is so
by Nathan Peluso
MYTHS OF OUR TIME
Intro
In this issue of The Bridge, we wanted to focus on various myths of our time. Myths have been used for thousands of years to explain things. The Greeks and Romans, for instance, used myths to explain just about everything in the universe. Myths, however, can also come about from fear and misinformation. Over time, myths can have a negative effect on a community by halting growth and progress. Throughout this issue you will find various myths that we’d like bust. We hope that by doing so we can help to improve the quality of life for everyone in our community. If you have any other myths you’d like to bust, we’d love to hear about them. Please drop us an email at ContactTheBridge@gmail.com.
the republican
myth
any invented story, idea, or concept: his account of the event is pure myth.
an imaginary or fictitious thing or person.
an unproved or false collective belief that is used to justify a social institution
a fiction or half-truth, especially one that forms part of an ideology
-the reintegration project-
breathe deeply, think about it, and pause
pause, while the reintegration project takes a minor breath too, realizing that the word is not written in vain – for you are reading it now – and the two have come together… by a leap you say, to the age still of the black and white page, the times of thought and mind and the unbegotten word, and where language – the communication which entails bridges and spaces and understanding and unity and the medium which makes them possible – still thrives, and still, you would think, have value.
are we getting closer to the one word, the one sound of the universe, the mighty OM…? ….i beg to answer NO… at least not in spirit.
so then are we getting farther?
pause, breathe deeply, and think about it
re-integration, coming back, a unity – as in a book, a dictionary per se, two covers of one magical fantastic book
or a coin, two sides, each bestowing worth and contribution, to the one unanimous circle
not (if i may digress)… like today’s America… not like here, not like us, not like now. not like the supposed proud contributors to this fine nation. and not, especially, like the republicans and democrats. no! not at all.
for what should be the supporting bounded covers or the symbolic guilded sides, is instead two duplicated covers and two lonely books, two fascist sides and two strange coins. and the math no longer works. it’s a zero sum game, each taking all and giving nothing. the equation has been ruined. and each making different meaning from the same single word. the words mean nothing. why speak then, or write, when it means only one separate thing? why only detract, eliminate, and divide? as it’s the people, so divided. those utilizing their vicious words, so wrong. even the fundamental principles, or first sacred allegiances, have failed to mean anything: the republic
tell me dear reader, from ye deepest political soul, what is the bother? why not bring the words together? pray tell what is a republican and how that may differ from a democrat…
well, a democrat with an elected representative is indeed what? you guessed… a republican. for a republican is a person who values the idea of republic, a government system of elected representatives, where the people in equal measure, vote for this role. and a democrat, in the modern age of nondirect, parliamentary democracy, is entirely, exactly the same.
and if you’re bored, look at the thesaurus under republic and what might you see? the word democracy… and vice versa. in the modern these terms are but the same, interchangeable.
logic 101: if a democrat is one who supports democracy and a republican is one who supports a republic, and if democracy equals republic, then a democrat equals a republican – by definition.
maybe that’s ok.
so tell me then, what’s indeed the fuss? if so similar, why then the need for riotous loudmouth propagandists?
for these names are as equal as a singular orb, in reality. in the common day, where town meetings (as in direct democracy) aren’t so practical, both republican and democrat stand for the same thing. they consist of systems of government where representatives carry on the will of the people, where each person has equal turn to vote, for in each of us lies the whole of everything.
accepted.
now what? what then of today’s conservatives and liberals? in the great book these are two words, again, under one cover. certainly not one word. but in america today, they are two words of two books, each denying the other, between it’s covers. ‘you don’t belong in my book” said the conservative… “nor you mine” said the liberal.
so you see - this is only a farce, and certainly something’s wrong. how can two words hate each other you may say? they are just in one book. then take these words from the ring, dear reader. eliminate these words from the political process to help us see the true words, the true meaning, and how they are not diametrically opposed opposites. don’t shift all life into one of these categories as if these are life and death. instead look squarely as things come along. instead of calling a spade a liberal, call a spade a spade. and while you’re at it, call an oil hungry war mongerer a oil hungry war mongerer. call the decline of the world environment, our fault, cause at least to some degree it is. call social inequity and weakening of the middle class just that. forget a label that has no real bearing on the idea it’s attached to. leave these words in the book. don’t call ice cream a republican pig. rather, call halliburton the company that took all your hard-earned tax money and ran.
but first, while the book is still open, (keep it open!) call a liberal someone who is open minded, someone with a ‘live and let live’ attitude. and call a conservative someone who is just fine the way things are, one who holds value to tradition and seeks solace in unchanging times..
and for the future of humanity, if you feel estranged, call forth the yin of your yang, and:
debate
- consider something; deliberate
- engage in argument by discussing opposing points
discuss
- to not be a blabbering self righteous idiot
compromise
- something that combines qualities or elements of different things
think about how you align yourselves, ye political souls. think about your soul and your home. think about the reintegration project. two words or three: one entailing a beginning, one entailing bringing things together, and one implying an end. make this project of yours to understand, again, just like your grandparents and even those before. come back to the value and the meaning! come back to two sides of one debate! come back to two sides of one fine land!
the reintegration project thus asks again: bring it all together, not apart! let words and meaning be uniting, not divisive, right, not wrong.
pause, breathe deeply, think about it
your lungs, dear reader, there are two of them… aren’t there
“In our every deliberation, we must consider the impact of our decisions on the next seven generations.” –Guiding principle of the Iroquois Confederacy
MYTH: One Person Can’t Make a Difference
If you’ve been paying attention to the news in last couple months, you’ve no doubt heard how the major scientists and leaders of the world have finally decided to accept that global warming is indeed happening and that the planetary clock is ticking. DUH! I mean, thanks for the newsflash, guys, but people like Al Gore (the former next President of the U.S.) have been trying to tell us this for over 30 years. If we would’ve listened back then, maybe we wouldn’t be in the mess we are today. And we are in quite a mess.
But all blame aside, it’s time to stop pointing fingers and time to start doing something about this problem that is threatening our very existence. But what can one person do? I hear this all the time. What difference does it make if I recycle? What difference does it make if I drive less? Honestly, it makes all the difference in the world.
The myth is that the actions of one of two people can’t prevent the harmful effects of global warming. But this couldn’t be more untrue. The little things you do can make a huge impact on the health of the planet and, more importantly, your actions will inspire others to do the same. Once people see how easy it is to make a difference, they’ll be more inclined to make the necessary changes to their lifestyle.
So what can you do? Plenty. For starters, pick up a copy of Living Green by Greg Horn and read it from cover to cover. (WARNING: This may require you to turn off the television for a while!) You can get a copy at www.Wellbeing.com, an invaluable site on the “green” lifestyle.
In the meantime, here’s a few facts to show you how the little things you do can really make a difference:
• Properly insulating your home can save tons of energy and it can save you money too.
• If every American replaced just three regular lightbulbs with energy-saving fluorescent ones, it would be the same as taking three million cars off of the road.
• Using recycled papers (facial tissues, toilet paper, paper towels, etc.) can save millions of trees each year (Remember: trees remove carbon dioxide from the environment.)
• Buy reusable products! Eighty percent (80%) of all products we buy are thrown away after one use.
• Bring your own reusable grocery bags to the supermarket. Collectively we use over 1 trillion (1,000,000,000,000) plastic bags each year!
• Offset your entire yearly carbon footprint by donating just $99 to www.carbonfund.org.
• Plant a tree. One tree will absorb one ton of carbon dioxide over its lifetime.
(Source: Living Green, by Greg Horn (Freedom Press, 2006))
An Open Letter to Fred
Fred,
Why are you so against environmentalism? Why are you so defensive when someone brings up global warming? Al Gore has been studying global warming for over 30 years; how long have you been studying it? You call him a "loon" and a “green weinie”, I assume because you don't agree with him politically. But this is not a political issue, Fred; it's a global issue that affects us all.
Let's just say there is no proof that humans are negatively affecting the environment by raising the carbon levels (even though there is boatloads of it). Even if there's just a tiny chance that we are, don't you think it's irresponsible to flatly deny the validity of the global warming claims? Yes the earth's temperatures have gone up and down over the life of the planet, but never to this extreme.
I just don't understand why anyone would not want to do whatever he or she could to lessen the human impact on the environment. There are only two reasons why anyone can be against the environmental movement: 1) They are being paid off by Big Business, which doesn't want to decrease emissions or pay the money to switch to more environment-friendly fuel sources; or 2) they are lazy and selfish and they don't want to recycle, or use a rake instead of a leaf-blower, or drive a high-efficiency vehicle instead of their beloved SUV.
I would just like to know why you’re so set on denying the global warming theory? Because from out here, it sounds like you just refuse to accept that a Democrat (gasp!) like Al Gore could possibly be right on anything.
MYTH: Non-Smoking Will Hurt My Business
This is one of those myths that really makes me nuts. I hear it all the time: Non-smoking laws may work in big cities like New York or L.A., but here in Beaver County, non-smoking legislation will put our small bars and restaurants out of business.
Baloney.
In fact, the effect will be the exact opposite. Take me, for example. I rarely go out to bars or nightclubs or anywhere else where smoking is permitted. Although I’d like to, I just can’t stand breathing in second-hand smoke all night long. And I hate coming home reeking of smoke. It gets in your clothes and your hair and makes everything stink.
Now, if they made it illegal to smoke in public places, I would go out much more often. And I’m not alone. There are many more of us non-smokers than there are smokers. And many of these, just like me, refuse to patronize any bar or restaurant that permits smoking.
Of course you have the people that argue that many of these “mom and pop” establishments are traditionally “shot and a beer” locations where 99 percent of the clientele are smokers. Although this may be true, it doesn’t mean that these establishments won’t be able to transform their image and welcome an entirely new base of customers.
And to all the smokers out there, please don’t tell me that a smoking ban would infringe upon your rights. Let’s be honest here. We all know that second-hand smoke is hazardous to your health. Smokers do not have a right to put the health of others in jeopardy just because they don’t care about theirs. I’ve heard the argument too many times: “If you don’t like the smoke, go somewhere else.” We all know this is backwards logic. There are many more non-smokers than smokers out there. The majority of people do not smoke. Therefore, the majority should be able to work or dine in a smoke-free environment.
I walked into my local borough building the other day and was stunned to find the entire building filled with smoke. It was almost unbearable. I shouldn’t have to walk into a public office and put my health at risk simply because someone else is addicted to cigarettes.
Look…the purpose of this article isn’t to bash the smokers out there. It’s to debunk the myth that Beaver County is too set in it’s ways to transition to a non-smoking attitude. It’s not. It’s working in cities all over the world, big and small. Restaurants and bars aren’t going out of business; they’re thriving. Sure, sometimes it takes time for people to adjust. But isn’t that true with any type of change?
One last thing: It was once believed that a good “bleeding” could cure just about any illness out there. For thousands of years, people thought the world was flat. Not too long ago, Vanilla Ice was cool. Don’t fear new ideas. Embrace them. You just may find the world a better place.
MYTH: Living Green is Hard
The biggest complaint I hear about “green” living or environmentally friendly living is that it’s difficult. It’s too much work, they say. Who has time to separate recyclables and then haul them off somewhere? My neighbor waters his lawn everyday; why shouldn’t I be able to do the same? I don’t even know where to buy environment-friendly cleaning products for my house.
Have you ever heard of a whinier bunch of excuses? Sure, living in-tune with the planet isn’t always easy. But when you think of the alternative—global warming, worldwide flooding, polluted water reservoirs, species extinction, an inhabitable planet—living green doesn’t sound that hard after all.
When I talk about “living green” I mean living in harmony with the planet and making responsible choices to help preserve the earth for future generations. Too many of us are living in the “now,” and this is causing great harm to the planet. If we continue this lifestyle of waste and carelessness, our future generations—our children and theirs—won’t have much of a planet left to live on.
In order to get you started on the path to a more environment-friendly lifestyle, I’ve put together a list of a few simple things you can do right away with little or no effort.
1. Americans produce over 1,600 lbs. of garbage per person, per year. If you don’t already, START RECYCLING—even if it’s not mandated in your area. It’s really not that difficult. First, pick up three garbage cans at your local store and label them for “Glass”, “Plastic” and “Aluminum.” Put them in the garage or outside somewhere where they’ll be easy to access. Once they’re filled, take them to your local recycling center for processing. You can find your recycling locations online at www.dep.state.pa.us/dep/deputate/airwaste/wm/RECYCLE/Recycle.htm.
2. Use fluorescent bulbs. Yes they’re a little more expensive than normal lightbulbs, but fluorescent bulbs use much less energy and can last up to 10,000 hours longer! In time, you’ll make all your money back and then some.
3. Take a walk. Need to go to the bank or to the corner store? Leave the car in the garage and take a walk. It’s not only good for the environment; it’s good for you too!
4. Buy a water filter. Americans drink billions of gallons of bottled water every year. Worldwide, we create 1.5 billions of plastic garbage annually, all of which either ends up in landfills or on the side of the road. Forget the bottled water and buy yourself a water filter and a nice, glass-lined travel mug. You’ll not only cut down on plastic waste, but you’ll also protect yourself from the dangerous chemicals that can leach out of plastic water bottles.
5. It’s just grass—get over it! Why in the world do we water our lawns and spray them with hazardous chemicals to make them grow, only to then go and cut it once or sometimes twice a week? It’s insane. Furthermore, it’s terrible for the environment. Did you know that running a standard lawnmower for just one half hour produces more exhaust than driving a care 187 miles? Let’s stop the insanity. Having a greener lawn than your neighbor doesn’t make you special; it just makes you tired. Instead, let nature handle the watering and forget all those nasty chemicals. Use various landscaping options to replace grass like mulch, stone or even a wildflower garden.
6. Did you know that we wash over 32 million pounds of toxic chemicals down our drains each year, most of which are from household cleaning products. Instead of spending a ton of money on these toxic cleaning supplies, why not use safe ingredients like baking soda, white vinegar, lemon juice, borax, vegetable-based liquid soap, and washing soda to do your cleaning? They work just as well as those fancy brand names and they won’t harm the environment.
Of course, these are just a few simple ways you can start living a better, more earth-friendly lifestyle. For more great tips, visit www.wellbuilding.com or any number of great “green” sites out on the Web.
(Source: Living Green, by Greg Horn (Freedom Press, 2006))
Recycling Location
Beaver County Department of Waste Management Recycling Center
Route 51
BEAVER, PA 15009
Phone: (724) 843-2868
Days/Hours: This site is open on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday 9am to 4pm and on the first and third Saturday of each month 9am to 1pm.
Web Link: http://www.co.beaver.pa.us/
For other recycling options, check your local fire department or municipal authority.
Travelogue (Mine)
By Valentine Brkich
Trepidation and uncertainty
But good intentions
The same path
But always new
Crumbling concrete of past lives
And a prayer
Thoughts race
Thoughts erase
As heart pounds
And legs ache
A remnant
Of a past journey
The climb
And the bricks
The bricks
Wishes and wondering
A certain goal
Uncertain
Alabaster spires
And faded stones
Lives lived
And lost
Too soon
Sudden hope
An old memory
Best forgotten
Is that all she wants?
Almost home
Hope and strength
Falling free
Down the slope
Past love and memory
And history
Marked for obliteration
Something new
Brings to mind
The winter cold
Soon to come
Sudden rebirth
Only to die again
But still live on
Until the end
And back
To the beginning
Again.
One Man’s First Crack at Motherhood
by Valentine J. Brkich
Recently I became a mother for the first time. Let me preface this by saying that I am a 31-year-old man.
It all started when I returned home to find three baby birds on my driveway. One was deceased; the other two were alive but obviously shaken. There’s a nest in the awning above my front porch and I assume they attempted to fly before their time. Kids.
After a brief funeral service for the deceased bird involving a shovel and a garbage can, I turned my attention to the two newest additions to my family. My in-laws are always hinting that they’d like some grandchildren. I guess beggars can’t be choosy.
First I carefully placed the birds on an old sweatshirt, which I then placed inside an empty planter. Then, with the birds resting comfortably, I grabbed my spade and set out to find them some proper nourishment, i.e., worms and other slimy things.
A few minutes later I returned to the nest for my first official bird feeding. This was sure to be a daunting task considering I still have some trouble feeding myself (just ask my wife). Lacking a beak, I was forced to think of another way to feed the birds. In a moment of inspiration, I went to the garage and retrieved a pair of needle-nose pliers, which sort of resembled a beak. Most importantly, they enabled me to feed the birds without actually touching the slimy worms. Ugh.
When I returned to the “nest,” I found that the birds had buried themselves within the folds of my sweatshirt. I was stumped. I remind you: I am not a bird. How could I get these baby birds to come out and eat? Of course I did the first thing that came to mind: I chirped.
To my surprise the two birds emerged from underneath the shirt and opened their mouths in anticipation. One by one, I lowered each slimy, squirming worm into the mouths of the hungry birds, one of which nearly swallowed the pliers whole. Next I fed each bird one or two of these beetle-type things that I found under a rock. The sparrows inhaled them like chocolate cheesecake.
It was an amazing moment. Here I was, a 31-year-old collector of Star Wars memorabilia, successfully feeding and caring for a pair of orphaned sparrows. It was a proud moment.
I haven’t figured out what to name the two birds just yet. I read somewhere that “Jacob” and “Emily” are the two most popular names for babies nowadays. Then again, why bother naming them when they’re just going to fly away someday and leave me forever. How’s that for gratitude!
A Website a Day
ClimateCrisis.net
CarbonFund.org
18seconds.org
SeventhGeneration.com
NaturalHomeandGarden.com
AHappyPlanet.com
NextGenerationEarth.org
GlobalResourceOptions.com
Nontoxic.com
EERE.gov
Organic.org
Healthyhome.com
Greenfeet.com
Natureworks.com
SolarEnergy.com
3Phases.com
RenewableChoice.com
WorldwideViewofGlobalWarming.com
SafeClimate.net/calculator
Dep.state.pa.us
I’m Gone Now
by Jessica K. Freed (May 25, 1987 – November 2, 2004)
So my angel has come for me, to bring me to heaven.
Cry for me not, my loved ones. I’ll be watching over you
Until we meet again in Heaven, where there is peace, love and not hate.
Don’t be angry with Him, for He has called for me
To join Him in Heaven with the rest of the angels.
Rejoice in life, remember the good times when I was with you,
The laughter and all of the fun we had together.
The way I was, dream of me.
Remember me, not sick, but in good health.
Remember my face, voice, and tell people about me,
What I was like, the things I loved and things I hated.
How much I loved you without any questions.
Maybe one day I’ll be the angel reaching out my hand to you
To come with me to Heaven.
I will always be with you in your hearts,
So love me when I’m gone.
In Town
Lent is one of my favorite times of year. This is a 40-day period, excluding Sundays, between Ash Wednesday (Feb. 21) to Easter Sunday (April 8). For Catholics, it’s a time of reflection, repentance and sacrifice. You’re supposed to deprive yourself of something in order to better understand Jesus’ 40 days in the desert when he was presented various temptations by Satan.
This year for Lent I gave up French fries. This not might seem like much, considering Jesus fasted for the full 40 days. But then again, I really like French fries. And I mean really. When I go out to dinner, I’ll order just about anything as long as it comes with fries. When the food comes, I always eat the fries first. If I have any room left over, I may have a little of the main course. But I always make sure to eat the fries.
Actually, I gave up all fried food, but the fries are what really hurt. The only fried food I allow myself is fish. Catholics are supposed to abstain from meat and eat only fish on Fridays. And of course, since this is Beaver County, just about all the fish is battered and deep-fried. Therefore, I really look forward to Friday and my weekly trip to Micky D’s!
Some people would say a great meal is “surf and turf.” Others relish the upscale taste of escargot or caviar. For me few meals are as satisfying as two McDonald’s Filet-O-Fish sandwiches and a large Shamrock Shake. The Shamrock Shake is a special treat because it’s available for a limited time only—during Lent. Therefore every Friday at lunch you can find me heading for the “Golden Arches” for my favorite Lenten delicacy.
Now, I don’t know the exact nutritional value of this meal, but I think I can safely assume that it’s about as healthy as a bowl of Crisco. Therefore, in order to defeat the guilt (a common struggle with Catholics) I decided to walk to McDonald’s with my wife in order to cancel out the high caloric value of my favorite meal. I live in Bridgewater and the closest McDonald’s is approximately 2.5 miles away. I figured a nice five-mile jaunt would cancel out the negative effects of my indulgence.
By the time we made it to Micky D’s, I had built up quite an appetite. I devoured those two sandwiches in mere seconds. Then I sucked down that minty green milkshake so fast that I got a brainfreeze. It was definitely worth the pain, though. The only problem was that I was now pretty tired and had another 2.5 miles to walk back home. On the way to the restaurant I had the proper motivation. But now the carrot was no longer dangling in front of me.
Of course my wife and I finally made it back to Bridgewater. It took us a little while longer with our stomachs full of fish (supposedly) and mine also filled with liquid shamrock.
And in case you’re wondering, yes, it was extremely difficult to go to McDonald’s and not get any French fries. But I’m a good Catholic boy and I had to stick to my pledge. Now I’m just looking forward to Easter Sunday when I plan to eat French fries for breakfast lunch and dinner. After that I’ll head up to the Medical Center for an angioplasty.
A complex relation was established between three men:
GeeBuboo, a firecracker… red and feisty
…He would snap right in your face
SahDemko Iljanirou Muestashia, a full-bodied dictator
…He would hold you down with his careful eyes, while his people did the rest
And Ooomi Benigma, one might call him the raccoon of the East
…He was the first in the trash, and the first to put it on the ground
In addition to these three men, there was also a fourth man:
Unanimous Nahtanio, a Spanish Warlord with a utilitarian bent
…He was the first to say Yah, and the last to say Pah
They became acquainted with one another…
During the fiscal year Aught One
High upon the Solar System Atom, named after the smallest particle, a long time ago
And far beyond the reach of the Ordinary Man, another creature,
And outside the Quadrispecs, one of Time Motion Space and Typical Living
These four men came together by forming each other into a full complex being
And then, they thought about one another complexly,
Each one’s internal characteristics grew alongside the blossoming outer
Each could see the other in full color: RED, BROWN, BLUE, GREEN, YELLOW
Those were the colors; WHITE was saved for the contrast within the eye
BLACK, for the scourge upon the soul and hinterland which WHITE would not converge
Everybody ran around these men, Rumpfinder McDonyaldi was the foremost
…He would kill anybody in his path, that’s what he told the rest;
Once he said, “Stand Back, lest you be Killed!”
What would you do? But, nonetheless, the little gray figures ran around upon the set
Fires were set, monumental crowds formed, dust and sands flew and muddled the scene
The crowd of Ordinary Men stood and watched these little figurines,
In fact they were the crowd, or this was just a mirror;
Even the Quadrispecs were on the inside,
Only they weren’t aware of the attention and they continued in their blindish fashion
Like goldfish in a bowl dreaming of the ocean but knowing only the comforts of bowl;
They took the color ORANGE all to themselves
One day, all four of these men died… They were killed as Rumpfinder had foretold
Rumpfinder was dead too… he too had been killed.
And the gray figurines turned on the set and waited for forms to arise from the rubble
-Mepanbahoo-
I feel there is a figure
By the name Mepanbahoo
He is famous and has powers
And he is from a different country asides from our own
From here
This man resides, or looks out
To America
Like an Indian, but not
Like an African, but not
Nebulous
Enigmatic
But not really, because we know him
Not me, though someone does
For I feel as if his name were mentioned
On the news, television
Or National Public Radio, stating
“Our prominent leader today met with Mepanbahoo”
As I heard this once, and many times
Also, other countries know of him too
They also meet with him
For diplomacy, for consultation, for empathy
For at times,
Maybe this is what you do
When you get older, or have a country
Then, you meet with Mepanbahoo
Though no one really listens
Or heeds his humble thoughts and wisdom
I really don’t know why
Or really, if this is so
by Nathan Peluso
Issue 1 - Winter 2006
(first published winter of 2006)
Welcome to the first edition of The Bridge, a monthly journal of ideas and creative writing, local themes, poems, ponderings… and life… that too.
Our first edition was written primarily by the two founders, Val Brkich and Nathan Peluso. You very well may hear from us again, as we do occasionally meet in pizzerias or coffee shops for such occasion. But yes, our goal was to create a place to showcase your writings too, a platform for the local people to put their ideas forward, to the greater community that we all belong to. Our goal was to bridge that space between us, and make it something more.
Of course“The Bridge” that we refer to has a physical presence, spanning the mighty Ohio at the mouth of the Beaver River. And as a literary journal, we made sure it had a metaphorical meaning too. Though we care not to limit this in writing, not by saying that a bridge is a connection, a bridge is creation, a bridge is everything. It is black. It can be white.
If you’re interested in contributing, please send in. We welcome all writings under 500 words. And feel free to write freely! We are not censors. At the same time we are limited by space (for now). And we may try to theme particular editions. The Bridge will also try and keep a few staple articles, like “In Town” and “The Reintegration Project” that you will see resurface on a monthly basis.
In each edition, we would also like to showcase a group of local downtown businesses and discuss what they mean to us. For this edition, we discuss coffee shops, and in a broader context, downtowns.
We look forward to keeping this going. We hope you enjoy. And we look forward to hearing from you.
Regards,
Val Brkich and Nathan Peluso
Downtown for the Holidays
The Holiday Season is once again upon us, and you all know what that means: PRESENTS! That’s right, nothing says ‘I love you’ better than a new iPod, X-Box or any other bizarrely named electronic gadget that’s going to be obsolete before you can even get it out of the box on Christmas morning. It truly is the most wonderful time of the year!
But this year, before you go rushing out to those big box stores to spend all your hard earned dough, why not first check out the merchants in your own downtown district? Here in Beaver County, we’re lucky enough to have a number of quaint, unique downtown areas, each with it’s own unique style and character. In years past, long before strip malls and big box stores, people would gather in their downtown to do their Holiday shopping, and take advantage of the invaluable knowledge and service that these stores provide.
When our area went through the difficult economic times of the early 1980s and people moved out of the region, many of these downtown regions struggled to survive. But somehow they did.
Then, when the malls began to pop up and the big box stores came in to gobble up all of the business, our downtown areas once again faced extinction. But still they held on.
Today, thanks to so many ambitious, courageous, resilient entrepreneurs, our downtown districts are beginning to thrive once again. People are starting to realize how important their main street is to the community as a whole. When you try to do at least some of your shopping downtown, it has a positive ripple effect on the community. When your merchants get more business, they’re able to offer you more at lower costs. Plus, when you shop in town, you get to visit and talk with your neighbors and friends from your community. The result is a positive, friendly environment that everyone can enjoy. (And, as an added bonus, you won’t get bogged down in all that annoying traffic around the malls, saving you time and headaches.)
This year, make a concerted effort to support the downtown shops in your community, and enjoy an old-fashioned Holiday shopping experience. You’ll be happier overall, and your community will thank you for it.
For a complete listing of merchants and restaurants in your downtown district, visit: www.towncenter.info
In Town
By Valentine J. Brkich
My name is Val Brkich, and I am a coffee-aholic.
My longtime affair with the coffee bean began in my youth. My grandparents, who apparently didn’t think I was hyper enough, used to give me a little bit of coffee whenever they’d babysit me. It was love at first sip.
High school was when my obsession with coffee really took off. Every morning before school, a couple friends and I would head down to Pappan’s Restaurant (where Wendy’s is now) and suck down about five or six cups each before heading off to class. You know, it’s funny…you’d think that would have kept me awake, at least until lunch.
In college, coffee became my best friend. I never went to class without a piping hot mug of java to keep me company. In the late night study hours, coffee kept me going until I had finished cramming for the next day’s test.
When I finally made it into the corporate arena, coffee was really the only thing that kept me going crazy. Every morning, as I sat within my cubicle wondering where I had gone wrong, coffee would talk me down from the ledge and somehow get me through the day.
So as you can see, I have a bona fide addition to coffee. Thankfully I’m not alone. Although tea is giving it a run for its money, coffee is still king in the United States. Everyday millions of groggy Americans drag themselves out of bed for work, but not before stopping at their favorite coffee shop for a cup of that magical elixir that helps them forget just how much they hate their job. (I’m just kidding, of course. Not everyone hates his job. Just the people with the really crappy ones.)
If you’re a fellow coffee lunatic, you’ll be happy to know that our beloved Beaver County is now home to several new, unique coffeehouses, none of which refer to their sizes as “Venti” or “Grande,” thank goodness. These cozy little gathering places are not only helping to feed the addition of us coffee-crazies, but they’re also helping to renew and revitalize our downtown districts.
If you haven’t had the chance yet, make it a point to check out each and every one of these exciting cafes. Just make sure you save a cup of regular for me.
Café Kolache – 402 3rd St. Beaver, 724.775.8102, www.cafekolache.com/
The Blue Violet Cafe – 158 Brighton Avenue, Rochester, 724.770.0690, www.bluevioletcafe.com
Uncommon Grounds – 380 Franklin Avenue, Aliquippa, 724.375.6141, www.uncommongroundscafe.org
The Silk House – 317 Fourteenth Street, Ambridge, 724.385.0172, www.silkhousecafe.com
The Coffee Buzz – 4969 Tusca Plaza, Brighton Township, 724.495.3455
the reintegration project
basically, if one were to track the course of events over the last, well, 10,000 years, one might think, “wow, what progress!... look how much we’ve done & just how far we’ve gone”. wow. impressive, right? just not that long ago we were sitting in rudimentary shacks around a five stone campfire munching grilled buffalo right off the bone.
[but is it true…? wasn’t it really peaceful, and real?]
and now, wham! we’ve come right out of the woods and right into the living room and jabbed a few buttons with our left pinky finger and, just like that, a picture spans the globe to our farthest, closest friend. another button, and boo-ah, the t.v. flickers bright with Monday night football. we grab them corn chips and salsa and dip away til the break of dawn or til the brewski’s run dry, whatever comes first. such an easy life, i don’t even have to kill the buffalo.
fine, that’s all fine.
but a proponent, however slight, of the reintegration project, might ponder aloud, “the buffalo, you say? look, you do still have to kill the buffalo, you just don’t know it. in fact, you just killed it by biting that chip… did ya know it?” and you would look at him in awe, that friend.
and another might add, “but look how far we’ve gone… away”. and that’s the bridge that the reintegration project is here to help us gap. the bridge between bite and buffalo. the bridge between a warm earnest campfire and that of an arched back by a computer screen. the bridge of life, and that of death. the bridge between action and consequence. the bridge between you and me. the bridge between flower and tree. the bridge that calls us free. the bridge between us all. the one and only bridge of responsibility, awareness, harmony, nature, war, oil, rainforest, ocean, and the future, deaths, destructions, and love.
[picture of a stick figure leaning away from a sketch of the earth]
the reintegratin project
definition: being one, again, with the earth
- an act or instance of combining into an integral whole
- behavior, as of an individual, that is in harmony with the environment
whoa! sounds intimidating. yeah, it kind of does. but don’t be dismayed, this is really quite a simple project – it’s one that each of us can participate in, together, because that’s the whole point: we’re all here together.
here in the first issue of ‘the bridge’, we’re talking downtowns and main streets, and the point is to only want to make one major point: when you do anything, it matters, and when you shop downtown, it matters too. when you walk that casual cornerstore from home and say hi to the friendly souls behind the counter, it matters.
or instead, when you get in that car and drive, drive, drive to the big gray box on the brutally scalped hill filled with a royal blue clad army of minimum wage part-timers basking under fluorescent lights, it matters too. like a vote for president, who might think that one can really count, that one lowly number. but it does. the reintegration project will thus ask – to think of how you matter. think of what you do and how it relates. when you take that one step forward, it matters, and not only to the pavement beneath your feet, but to the one who put it there, and to what’s no longer there.
think of how you once lived in the woods, healthy, and unified. think of the green and the life.
think of what was there before you put your foot down… and of all else in between.
and try and put it back together, again.
Tree-Hugger Tips of the Month
• Next time you’re heading to the supermarket or the bank, why not walk instead of drive? You’ll save gas and money, plus you’ll burn quite a few calories along the way. Try it. You’ll be surprised how much better you’ll feel.
• Recycle whenever possible. Sure, recycling can be a hassle; but the benefits far outweigh the effort. Look for recycling receptacles in and around your town, sometimes near your local municipal building. For more information, visit: www.co.beaver.pa.us/WasteManagement/
• The next time you’re out on your daily walk, bring along a plastic bag for any trash you find along the way. That way you’ll be making yourself AND your town look better at the same time!
Submissions and Advertising
The Bridge is here to serve you. Of course we want to provide you with some entertaining, educational articles and ideas. At the same time, we want to give you a platform to speak your mind, share your stories and promote your community activities.
If you have a book club, an art exhibit, an instructional class, or any other FREE or charitable event you'd like to promote, this is the place to do it.
The Bridge does not permit soliciting of any kind. Advertisments and listings are for FREE events or services only.
If you have a positive event to promote, e-mail us at ContactTheBridge@gmail.com.
Political Thoughts
George Washington, from the Farewell Address:
“I have already intimated to you the danger of Parties in the State, with particular reference to the founding of them on Geographical discriminations. Let me now take a more comprehensive view, and warn you in the most solemn manner against the baneful effects of the Spirit of Party, generally.
“This spirit, unfortunately, is inseparable from our nature, having its root in the strongest passions of the human Mind. It exists under different shapes in all Governments, more or less stifled, controuled [sic], or repressed; but, in those of the popular form it is seen in its greatest rankness and its truly their worst enemy.
“The alternate domination of one faction over another, sharpened by the spirit of revenge natural to party disention [sic], which in different ages and countries has perpetrated the most horrid enormities, is itself frightful despotism…[T]he common and continual mischiefs of the spirit of Party are sufficient to make it in the interest and the duty of a wise People to discourage and restrain it.”
Bring Back the Trains
You may have noticed the logo for The Bridge resembles a well-known Beaver County landmark. The P&LE Railroad Ohio River Bridge spans the mighty Ohio from Beaver to Monaca. This black-iron beauty is a engineering marvel and a personal favorite of many Beaver Countians (yours included). I’ve taken hundreds photographs of the bridge over the years. There’s just something about it. It’s truly amazing that a structure that was built almost one hundred years ago (1909) is still in use today, and is able to handle the incredible weight of today’s freight trains.
I bet that there’s a lot of you out there who have never given the P&LE bridge a second glance. Well, you should, especially in the evening as the sun begins to set in the west. That’s when the bridge is the most beautiful. The setting sun’s rays reflect off of the structure’s black paint, creating a stunning orange glow that’s really breathtaking. But don’t take my word for it; check it out yourself.
The reason why I bring up this bridge is because at one time it was more than just a viaduct to provide safe passage to freight trains along the CSX rail line. At one time, many years ago, the bridge was the starting and ending point for passenger trains along those same tracks. Commuters heading downtown could catch the train at the Beaver Train Station and cross the bridge on their way into the city. Likewise, they would return back across the bridge before pulling back into the station on their way back to Beaver. I’m sure many of you out there still remember riding that passenger line. Unfortunately, I was born a little too late to experience passenger rail service on the P&LE. Needless to say, I’m a little bitter about that.
I have been on the bridge before, just not in a train. (Hold your ears, Mom.) My friends and I used to walk out on it when we were younger and crouch down on one of the piers when a train came along. Was it a smart thing to do? No. Would I recommend other kids do the same? No. But there’s a lot of things I did when I was younger that I wouldn’t do now.
It’s about time we take advantage of the rail system we have here and bring back passenger rail service to the Beaver Valley. Not only would this allow me to live one of my lifelong dreams of riding across my favorite train bridge; but more importantly, it would be a benefit to our region in so many ways.
I’ve been hearing it all my life. People are always complaining about the commute into Pittsburgh. It’s too long. There’s too much traffic. It puts too much mileage on my vehicle. It’s too expensive, with the gas prices as high as they are. Rail service would be a wonderful alternative to the daily commute along Route 65 or 60. Sure, I know we have bus service as an alternative to driving; but anyone who’s ever ridden the bus (I have) can tell you it’s not exactly a pleasurable experience.
Passenger rail service just makes sense. It’s good for economic progress; it’s good for the environment; it’s a good remedy for traffic congestion; quite simply, it’s a good idea. We already have the rail lines. All we need is a train. I’d buy one myself, but my freelance writer’s income just won’t cut it.
Imagine how nice it would be on a Friday night to catch the train into Pittsburgh for dinner. I don’t know about you, but I rarely go into the city for dinner, not because it’s a long commute, but because I like to have a glass or two of wine with my meal and I don’t want to drink and drive on the way home. That’s another bonus of a passenger rail system: fewer drunk drivers on the road.
I could go on and on about the benefits of bringing back the passenger rail system, but I only have so much room in here to write. If you agree with me drop me an email (ContactTheBridge@gmail.com), or, better yet, write your county commissioners, write the governor, and let them know that you want the trains back. Of course, I’m not sure of the logistics involved in accomplishing this, but if enough people want it, I know we can make it happen.
Let’s follow the lead of the hundreds of other cities in our country and around the world that already understand the benefits of a passenger rail system. Let’s bring the passenger trains back to Beaver County.
-Pedestrians in Suburbia-
Pedestrians in suburbia
Like funny winter ducks, lost
In a sullen, barren winter pond
Waddling, wandering, and searching
Within a frozen landscape
Landed on their own, skimming the top or
Dropped off by the local 114, people, vapidly
Routed towards a boxlike structure
By another, moving boxlike structure, with wheels
Dropped roadside… its all roads here, to
Their work, daily or life force expended, alas
Within the new, badly-shaven, near mortally-scathed hilltop
Each construction a wound, begging to heal
Infused though, a scab continually rubbed raw, and scratched again, bled
But again, the people, like the funny, un-migrated ducks
Fumbling and confused, “Quack!”…
Translated, “Where’s my bread, my soul, my home???”
Swimmingly pondered aloud, by these creatures, wanting,
Of course, an empathetic ear, near, to so caringly hear!!!!
Or even to begin to confuse such banterings as commonspeak,
A language, the words of live animals;
For within the suburbs, the sprawl, the leftover pond…
Unfrozen words hold no water
And unfrozen ducks swim in random circles
Sometimes confused as background sodder
Always left, without bread
Until the springtime thaws, people come, walking, bearing gifts
Or their own forgiving nature coming forth; bread, fed, to all
And grass so green, like the full ocean
Tide, washing, filling the old pond with the same water
Only yesterday, our friends left so damn serene… this place,
Then we came, and ruined it… for the ducks…
… The pondering, circling, misconstrued ducks!
Moravia
Everytime Val and I would drive to Westminster College, we would reach that vague hinterland between here and there, and one of us would look up first and see the sign that read “Moravia”… then, glancing over with some sort of dark, sinister empathy, “Moravia!”, one of us would threaten with a raspy, scary, aggressiveness. and the other always responding, “Aaah, Moravia!”, then we would flash the Motley Crue devil sign and repeat that famous word, “Moravia”, the both of us, and we would giggle or laugh until the thought of such a place, so demonic and strange to our young American ears, would pass.
It was a green field and a rolling bunch of hills. There was a town somehow set into it. Not much more was known. Neither of us had ever been there, nor had we ever dared meet someone from there, not by accident, fortune, nor opportunity. “Moravia”, and I thought of once my Dad told me about some missionaries from Europe, German I thought, who had come over to spread the word of good peace and many Christian prosperities. One name that came to mind was Joseph Heckwelder, but I couldn’t remember if he was a Moravian or not. “A Moravian”, and what was that?
Not until yesterday did I put any connection together with reality, for when I picked up that guide on my newest of destinations, Czech Republic, there was that oh so familiar of names, “Moravia!”… “Aaaah”…. And I could hardly believe my eyes. Really, could it be? That after so much time and ambiguity, after so many car trips, both to and fro, with my dearest of friends Val, flashing devil signs and rasping, or growling you might say, that word, “Moravia”… finally, it’s source was known. Eastern Czech Republic.
Before of course this was part of Czechoslovakia, and before that surely Germany and God knows how many other random conglomerates of peoples identifying with one name. But now it was a region and that region held a special place in not just my own identity as a person and place, but also Val’s. Oh must I email him soon.
And now I write this letter of sorts on a computer on a balcony in the town of Olomouc… in the region of Moravia. I feel distantly at home here. I feel distantly in a dream or vague fantasy. What really did this place ever mean to me, or Val? And what could it someday? I hear hammers and the buzzing of a saw. The sign is burning a new day through undaunted, but reasonably cheery clouds. I need to eat breakfast. I need to get out there and see this new day.
Winter Reads
White Crosses – Larry Watson
A Walk in the Woods – Bill Bryson
The Alchemist – Paulo Coelho
Download It!
“Let Down” – Radiohead
“Violence in Snowy Fields” – Dolorean
“Amsterdam” – Coldplay
Welcome to the first edition of The Bridge, a monthly journal of ideas and creative writing, local themes, poems, ponderings… and life… that too.
Our first edition was written primarily by the two founders, Val Brkich and Nathan Peluso. You very well may hear from us again, as we do occasionally meet in pizzerias or coffee shops for such occasion. But yes, our goal was to create a place to showcase your writings too, a platform for the local people to put their ideas forward, to the greater community that we all belong to. Our goal was to bridge that space between us, and make it something more.
Of course“The Bridge” that we refer to has a physical presence, spanning the mighty Ohio at the mouth of the Beaver River. And as a literary journal, we made sure it had a metaphorical meaning too. Though we care not to limit this in writing, not by saying that a bridge is a connection, a bridge is creation, a bridge is everything. It is black. It can be white.
If you’re interested in contributing, please send in. We welcome all writings under 500 words. And feel free to write freely! We are not censors. At the same time we are limited by space (for now). And we may try to theme particular editions. The Bridge will also try and keep a few staple articles, like “In Town” and “The Reintegration Project” that you will see resurface on a monthly basis.
In each edition, we would also like to showcase a group of local downtown businesses and discuss what they mean to us. For this edition, we discuss coffee shops, and in a broader context, downtowns.
We look forward to keeping this going. We hope you enjoy. And we look forward to hearing from you.
Regards,
Val Brkich and Nathan Peluso
Downtown for the Holidays
The Holiday Season is once again upon us, and you all know what that means: PRESENTS! That’s right, nothing says ‘I love you’ better than a new iPod, X-Box or any other bizarrely named electronic gadget that’s going to be obsolete before you can even get it out of the box on Christmas morning. It truly is the most wonderful time of the year!
But this year, before you go rushing out to those big box stores to spend all your hard earned dough, why not first check out the merchants in your own downtown district? Here in Beaver County, we’re lucky enough to have a number of quaint, unique downtown areas, each with it’s own unique style and character. In years past, long before strip malls and big box stores, people would gather in their downtown to do their Holiday shopping, and take advantage of the invaluable knowledge and service that these stores provide.
When our area went through the difficult economic times of the early 1980s and people moved out of the region, many of these downtown regions struggled to survive. But somehow they did.
Then, when the malls began to pop up and the big box stores came in to gobble up all of the business, our downtown areas once again faced extinction. But still they held on.
Today, thanks to so many ambitious, courageous, resilient entrepreneurs, our downtown districts are beginning to thrive once again. People are starting to realize how important their main street is to the community as a whole. When you try to do at least some of your shopping downtown, it has a positive ripple effect on the community. When your merchants get more business, they’re able to offer you more at lower costs. Plus, when you shop in town, you get to visit and talk with your neighbors and friends from your community. The result is a positive, friendly environment that everyone can enjoy. (And, as an added bonus, you won’t get bogged down in all that annoying traffic around the malls, saving you time and headaches.)
This year, make a concerted effort to support the downtown shops in your community, and enjoy an old-fashioned Holiday shopping experience. You’ll be happier overall, and your community will thank you for it.
For a complete listing of merchants and restaurants in your downtown district, visit: www.towncenter.info
In Town
By Valentine J. Brkich
My name is Val Brkich, and I am a coffee-aholic.
My longtime affair with the coffee bean began in my youth. My grandparents, who apparently didn’t think I was hyper enough, used to give me a little bit of coffee whenever they’d babysit me. It was love at first sip.
High school was when my obsession with coffee really took off. Every morning before school, a couple friends and I would head down to Pappan’s Restaurant (where Wendy’s is now) and suck down about five or six cups each before heading off to class. You know, it’s funny…you’d think that would have kept me awake, at least until lunch.
In college, coffee became my best friend. I never went to class without a piping hot mug of java to keep me company. In the late night study hours, coffee kept me going until I had finished cramming for the next day’s test.
When I finally made it into the corporate arena, coffee was really the only thing that kept me going crazy. Every morning, as I sat within my cubicle wondering where I had gone wrong, coffee would talk me down from the ledge and somehow get me through the day.
So as you can see, I have a bona fide addition to coffee. Thankfully I’m not alone. Although tea is giving it a run for its money, coffee is still king in the United States. Everyday millions of groggy Americans drag themselves out of bed for work, but not before stopping at their favorite coffee shop for a cup of that magical elixir that helps them forget just how much they hate their job. (I’m just kidding, of course. Not everyone hates his job. Just the people with the really crappy ones.)
If you’re a fellow coffee lunatic, you’ll be happy to know that our beloved Beaver County is now home to several new, unique coffeehouses, none of which refer to their sizes as “Venti” or “Grande,” thank goodness. These cozy little gathering places are not only helping to feed the addition of us coffee-crazies, but they’re also helping to renew and revitalize our downtown districts.
If you haven’t had the chance yet, make it a point to check out each and every one of these exciting cafes. Just make sure you save a cup of regular for me.
Café Kolache – 402 3rd St. Beaver, 724.775.8102, www.cafekolache.com/
The Blue Violet Cafe – 158 Brighton Avenue, Rochester, 724.770.0690, www.bluevioletcafe.com
Uncommon Grounds – 380 Franklin Avenue, Aliquippa, 724.375.6141, www.uncommongroundscafe.org
The Silk House – 317 Fourteenth Street, Ambridge, 724.385.0172, www.silkhousecafe.com
The Coffee Buzz – 4969 Tusca Plaza, Brighton Township, 724.495.3455
the reintegration project
basically, if one were to track the course of events over the last, well, 10,000 years, one might think, “wow, what progress!... look how much we’ve done & just how far we’ve gone”. wow. impressive, right? just not that long ago we were sitting in rudimentary shacks around a five stone campfire munching grilled buffalo right off the bone.
[but is it true…? wasn’t it really peaceful, and real?]
and now, wham! we’ve come right out of the woods and right into the living room and jabbed a few buttons with our left pinky finger and, just like that, a picture spans the globe to our farthest, closest friend. another button, and boo-ah, the t.v. flickers bright with Monday night football. we grab them corn chips and salsa and dip away til the break of dawn or til the brewski’s run dry, whatever comes first. such an easy life, i don’t even have to kill the buffalo.
fine, that’s all fine.
but a proponent, however slight, of the reintegration project, might ponder aloud, “the buffalo, you say? look, you do still have to kill the buffalo, you just don’t know it. in fact, you just killed it by biting that chip… did ya know it?” and you would look at him in awe, that friend.
and another might add, “but look how far we’ve gone… away”. and that’s the bridge that the reintegration project is here to help us gap. the bridge between bite and buffalo. the bridge between a warm earnest campfire and that of an arched back by a computer screen. the bridge of life, and that of death. the bridge between action and consequence. the bridge between you and me. the bridge between flower and tree. the bridge that calls us free. the bridge between us all. the one and only bridge of responsibility, awareness, harmony, nature, war, oil, rainforest, ocean, and the future, deaths, destructions, and love.
[picture of a stick figure leaning away from a sketch of the earth]
the reintegratin project
definition: being one, again, with the earth
- an act or instance of combining into an integral whole
- behavior, as of an individual, that is in harmony with the environment
whoa! sounds intimidating. yeah, it kind of does. but don’t be dismayed, this is really quite a simple project – it’s one that each of us can participate in, together, because that’s the whole point: we’re all here together.
here in the first issue of ‘the bridge’, we’re talking downtowns and main streets, and the point is to only want to make one major point: when you do anything, it matters, and when you shop downtown, it matters too. when you walk that casual cornerstore from home and say hi to the friendly souls behind the counter, it matters.
or instead, when you get in that car and drive, drive, drive to the big gray box on the brutally scalped hill filled with a royal blue clad army of minimum wage part-timers basking under fluorescent lights, it matters too. like a vote for president, who might think that one can really count, that one lowly number. but it does. the reintegration project will thus ask – to think of how you matter. think of what you do and how it relates. when you take that one step forward, it matters, and not only to the pavement beneath your feet, but to the one who put it there, and to what’s no longer there.
think of how you once lived in the woods, healthy, and unified. think of the green and the life.
think of what was there before you put your foot down… and of all else in between.
and try and put it back together, again.
Tree-Hugger Tips of the Month
• Next time you’re heading to the supermarket or the bank, why not walk instead of drive? You’ll save gas and money, plus you’ll burn quite a few calories along the way. Try it. You’ll be surprised how much better you’ll feel.
• Recycle whenever possible. Sure, recycling can be a hassle; but the benefits far outweigh the effort. Look for recycling receptacles in and around your town, sometimes near your local municipal building. For more information, visit: www.co.beaver.pa.us/WasteManagement/
• The next time you’re out on your daily walk, bring along a plastic bag for any trash you find along the way. That way you’ll be making yourself AND your town look better at the same time!
Submissions and Advertising
The Bridge is here to serve you. Of course we want to provide you with some entertaining, educational articles and ideas. At the same time, we want to give you a platform to speak your mind, share your stories and promote your community activities.
If you have a book club, an art exhibit, an instructional class, or any other FREE or charitable event you'd like to promote, this is the place to do it.
The Bridge does not permit soliciting of any kind. Advertisments and listings are for FREE events or services only.
If you have a positive event to promote, e-mail us at ContactTheBridge@gmail.com.
Political Thoughts
George Washington, from the Farewell Address:
“I have already intimated to you the danger of Parties in the State, with particular reference to the founding of them on Geographical discriminations. Let me now take a more comprehensive view, and warn you in the most solemn manner against the baneful effects of the Spirit of Party, generally.
“This spirit, unfortunately, is inseparable from our nature, having its root in the strongest passions of the human Mind. It exists under different shapes in all Governments, more or less stifled, controuled [sic], or repressed; but, in those of the popular form it is seen in its greatest rankness and its truly their worst enemy.
“The alternate domination of one faction over another, sharpened by the spirit of revenge natural to party disention [sic], which in different ages and countries has perpetrated the most horrid enormities, is itself frightful despotism…[T]he common and continual mischiefs of the spirit of Party are sufficient to make it in the interest and the duty of a wise People to discourage and restrain it.”
Bring Back the Trains
You may have noticed the logo for The Bridge resembles a well-known Beaver County landmark. The P&LE Railroad Ohio River Bridge spans the mighty Ohio from Beaver to Monaca. This black-iron beauty is a engineering marvel and a personal favorite of many Beaver Countians (yours included). I’ve taken hundreds photographs of the bridge over the years. There’s just something about it. It’s truly amazing that a structure that was built almost one hundred years ago (1909) is still in use today, and is able to handle the incredible weight of today’s freight trains.
I bet that there’s a lot of you out there who have never given the P&LE bridge a second glance. Well, you should, especially in the evening as the sun begins to set in the west. That’s when the bridge is the most beautiful. The setting sun’s rays reflect off of the structure’s black paint, creating a stunning orange glow that’s really breathtaking. But don’t take my word for it; check it out yourself.
The reason why I bring up this bridge is because at one time it was more than just a viaduct to provide safe passage to freight trains along the CSX rail line. At one time, many years ago, the bridge was the starting and ending point for passenger trains along those same tracks. Commuters heading downtown could catch the train at the Beaver Train Station and cross the bridge on their way into the city. Likewise, they would return back across the bridge before pulling back into the station on their way back to Beaver. I’m sure many of you out there still remember riding that passenger line. Unfortunately, I was born a little too late to experience passenger rail service on the P&LE. Needless to say, I’m a little bitter about that.
I have been on the bridge before, just not in a train. (Hold your ears, Mom.) My friends and I used to walk out on it when we were younger and crouch down on one of the piers when a train came along. Was it a smart thing to do? No. Would I recommend other kids do the same? No. But there’s a lot of things I did when I was younger that I wouldn’t do now.
It’s about time we take advantage of the rail system we have here and bring back passenger rail service to the Beaver Valley. Not only would this allow me to live one of my lifelong dreams of riding across my favorite train bridge; but more importantly, it would be a benefit to our region in so many ways.
I’ve been hearing it all my life. People are always complaining about the commute into Pittsburgh. It’s too long. There’s too much traffic. It puts too much mileage on my vehicle. It’s too expensive, with the gas prices as high as they are. Rail service would be a wonderful alternative to the daily commute along Route 65 or 60. Sure, I know we have bus service as an alternative to driving; but anyone who’s ever ridden the bus (I have) can tell you it’s not exactly a pleasurable experience.
Passenger rail service just makes sense. It’s good for economic progress; it’s good for the environment; it’s a good remedy for traffic congestion; quite simply, it’s a good idea. We already have the rail lines. All we need is a train. I’d buy one myself, but my freelance writer’s income just won’t cut it.
Imagine how nice it would be on a Friday night to catch the train into Pittsburgh for dinner. I don’t know about you, but I rarely go into the city for dinner, not because it’s a long commute, but because I like to have a glass or two of wine with my meal and I don’t want to drink and drive on the way home. That’s another bonus of a passenger rail system: fewer drunk drivers on the road.
I could go on and on about the benefits of bringing back the passenger rail system, but I only have so much room in here to write. If you agree with me drop me an email (ContactTheBridge@gmail.com), or, better yet, write your county commissioners, write the governor, and let them know that you want the trains back. Of course, I’m not sure of the logistics involved in accomplishing this, but if enough people want it, I know we can make it happen.
Let’s follow the lead of the hundreds of other cities in our country and around the world that already understand the benefits of a passenger rail system. Let’s bring the passenger trains back to Beaver County.
-Pedestrians in Suburbia-
Pedestrians in suburbia
Like funny winter ducks, lost
In a sullen, barren winter pond
Waddling, wandering, and searching
Within a frozen landscape
Landed on their own, skimming the top or
Dropped off by the local 114, people, vapidly
Routed towards a boxlike structure
By another, moving boxlike structure, with wheels
Dropped roadside… its all roads here, to
Their work, daily or life force expended, alas
Within the new, badly-shaven, near mortally-scathed hilltop
Each construction a wound, begging to heal
Infused though, a scab continually rubbed raw, and scratched again, bled
But again, the people, like the funny, un-migrated ducks
Fumbling and confused, “Quack!”…
Translated, “Where’s my bread, my soul, my home???”
Swimmingly pondered aloud, by these creatures, wanting,
Of course, an empathetic ear, near, to so caringly hear!!!!
Or even to begin to confuse such banterings as commonspeak,
A language, the words of live animals;
For within the suburbs, the sprawl, the leftover pond…
Unfrozen words hold no water
And unfrozen ducks swim in random circles
Sometimes confused as background sodder
Always left, without bread
Until the springtime thaws, people come, walking, bearing gifts
Or their own forgiving nature coming forth; bread, fed, to all
And grass so green, like the full ocean
Tide, washing, filling the old pond with the same water
Only yesterday, our friends left so damn serene… this place,
Then we came, and ruined it… for the ducks…
… The pondering, circling, misconstrued ducks!
Moravia
Everytime Val and I would drive to Westminster College, we would reach that vague hinterland between here and there, and one of us would look up first and see the sign that read “Moravia”… then, glancing over with some sort of dark, sinister empathy, “Moravia!”, one of us would threaten with a raspy, scary, aggressiveness. and the other always responding, “Aaah, Moravia!”, then we would flash the Motley Crue devil sign and repeat that famous word, “Moravia”, the both of us, and we would giggle or laugh until the thought of such a place, so demonic and strange to our young American ears, would pass.
It was a green field and a rolling bunch of hills. There was a town somehow set into it. Not much more was known. Neither of us had ever been there, nor had we ever dared meet someone from there, not by accident, fortune, nor opportunity. “Moravia”, and I thought of once my Dad told me about some missionaries from Europe, German I thought, who had come over to spread the word of good peace and many Christian prosperities. One name that came to mind was Joseph Heckwelder, but I couldn’t remember if he was a Moravian or not. “A Moravian”, and what was that?
Not until yesterday did I put any connection together with reality, for when I picked up that guide on my newest of destinations, Czech Republic, there was that oh so familiar of names, “Moravia!”… “Aaaah”…. And I could hardly believe my eyes. Really, could it be? That after so much time and ambiguity, after so many car trips, both to and fro, with my dearest of friends Val, flashing devil signs and rasping, or growling you might say, that word, “Moravia”… finally, it’s source was known. Eastern Czech Republic.
Before of course this was part of Czechoslovakia, and before that surely Germany and God knows how many other random conglomerates of peoples identifying with one name. But now it was a region and that region held a special place in not just my own identity as a person and place, but also Val’s. Oh must I email him soon.
And now I write this letter of sorts on a computer on a balcony in the town of Olomouc… in the region of Moravia. I feel distantly at home here. I feel distantly in a dream or vague fantasy. What really did this place ever mean to me, or Val? And what could it someday? I hear hammers and the buzzing of a saw. The sign is burning a new day through undaunted, but reasonably cheery clouds. I need to eat breakfast. I need to get out there and see this new day.
Winter Reads
White Crosses – Larry Watson
A Walk in the Woods – Bill Bryson
The Alchemist – Paulo Coelho
Download It!
“Let Down” – Radiohead
“Violence in Snowy Fields” – Dolorean
“Amsterdam” – Coldplay
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