Alyce Reese, who helps the needy all year long, is Mrs Claus at Christmas
DICKENS PLAYERS PLAY ON WALKER CAKE COMES TO CORNING Sv ECTAC u LAR Fu RNIT u RE DECEMBER 2010
6
Mountain Chatter
By the Mountain Home Staff
Woolrich and Lock Haven team up for wounded veterans and a holiday house tour in Wellsboro.
12
Looking Back
By Joyce M. Tice
Once the glue that held rural communities together, the Grange is now passing into memory.
19 The Lunker
By Fred Metarko
It was only 6:45 a.m., and the day had already turned bad...
20
Marriage... As a House
By Florence Millahn
A couple finds their life altered after the purchase of an old home.
24
The Better World
By John & Lynn Diamond-Nigh
Thoughts on marriage, liberal education, Facebook, and the Amish.
Christmas Spirit
By Dawn Bilder
For Potter County’s neediest, Alyce Reese and her volunteers aren’t just do-gooders, they’re a holiday miracle.
Heart of the Wild
By Angela Cannon-Crothers
Wildlife rehabilitators are in the business of saving lives—one endangered animal at a time.
An Artisan for all Seasons
By Matt Connor
More than just furniture, Tom Svec’s work represents, he says, “the continuity of human behavior.”
Top: Santa and Alyce Reese bring a little joy to a child’s life. Center: A bird of prey finds itself in safe hands. Bottom: A whimsical detail from Furniture maker Tom Svec’s workshop.
Cover image by Anne Davenport-Leete Cover art by Tucker Worthington
Years of Pure Ham
By Larry Biddison
The Dickens Players have been singing, reading, reciting poetry, and doing skits to liven up Dickens Christmas for over a quarter century.
Tasty Cakes
By Cornelius O’Donnell
You won’t believe your eyes—or your tastebuds—when you experience a Walker Cake Co. creation.
Finger Lakes Wine Review
By Holly Howell
For the holiday seaason, a great reason to “Celebrate!”
Loco for Toko
By Nora Strupp
For drummers and amateur musicians of every stripe, there’s no place quite like Toko Imports.
Back of the Mountain
Snow falling on Laurel.
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e ditor - in - C hief
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Mary Nance, Kathleen Torpy
s t A ff W riter
Dawn Bilder
C over A rtist
Tucker Worthington
P r odu C tio n M A n A ger / g r AP hi C d esigner
Amanda Doan-Butler
C ontri buting W riters
Kay Barrett, Dawn Bilder, Sarah Bull, Angela Cannon-Crothers, Jennifer Cline, Matt Connor, Barbara Coyle, John & Lynne Diamond-Nigh, Patricia Brown Davis, Steve Hainsworth, Martha Horton, Holly Howell, David Ira Kagan, Roberta McCulloch-Dews, Cindy Davis Meixel, Suzanne Meredith, Fred Metarko, Karen Meyers, Dave Milano, Tom Murphy, Mary Myers, Jim Obleski, Cornelius O’Donnell, Audrey Patterson, Gary Ranck, Kathleen Thompson, Joyce M. Tice, Linda Williams
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The Last Great Place
A Merry Christmas to All
from the Mountain Home
Many folks stop by our offices here on Kelsey Creek and ask for an issue they’ve missed; some even offer to make a donation. We don’t take donations, is our reply. Our advertisers pay for us to bring you these wonderful stories, and the way to keep them coming is to support these wonderful businesses.
The following is a list of all the businesses that have brought you the Mountain Home and Home & Real Estate this year. We thank all of you, and all of them, for being with us this year, and wish you the most blessed of holidays.
A&D Appraisals
Abundant Blessings Flowers & Gifts
Ackley & Son
Affordable Alternative Energy (A2E)
AgChoice Farm Credit
AJ’s Hair & Make-up
AJ’s Outdoor Power Equipment
Al’s Leasing
Allstate-Rennie Rodarmel Agency
Ananda Massage Therapy
Arc of Schuyler
Armenia Mountain Footwear
Arnot Health
Artisan’s Shoppe
Arts Council of the Southern Finger Lakes
Athens Arts Fest
Atwater Estate Vineyards
Audrey Patterson
Babb’s Creek Inn and Pub
Bailey Hollow Land Company
Balsam Real Estate Settlement Co.
Barnstead Pantry
Benchmark Audio
Big Woods Properties
Billtown Blues Association
Bittner’s General Store
Black Creek Enterprises
Black Forest Broadcasting
Black Forest Trading Post
Bong’s Jewelers
Bowhook Slings
Brick House Deli
Brookside Homes
Brydonson Farms
Buildings, Inc.
Butler Family Maple
C.A.R.S.
Call Of The North Gift
Shop & Eatery
Canyon Country Fabrics
Canyon Motorsports
Capabilities
Cappy’s
Captain Bill’s
Carol Welch Insurance Agency
Cedar Run Inn
Celebrations Catering & Bakery
Century 21 Wilkinson-Dunn
– Scott Wilcox
Chemung County Fair
Cheryl A. Beichner CPA
Cimino Hardware Inc
Citizens & Northern Bank
– Mansfield
Citizens & Northern Bank
– Wellsboro
Cole & Burd Automotive
Charles Cole Memorial Hospital
Community Arts Center
Connolly Real Estate Company
Coopers Sporting Goods
Concreteman Inc
Cornell Cooperative Extension
of Steuben County
Corning Gaffer District
Cost Cutters
Country Home Products/DR Power
Coudersport Beverage
Crain Custom Homes
CRM Marketing & Design
Crystal Lake Ski Center
Culligan
Darrow’s Motor Co.
Dave’s Tax & Tags
Dominion Transmission
Dunham’s Department Store
Dunham’s Furniture
E and G Auto Plus, Inc.
East Resources, Inc.
Ed - U - Caterers
Eddie’s Truck Stop
Ehrlich
Endless Mountain Real Estate-Galeton
Endless Mountains Eyecare
Endless Mountains Visitors Bureau
English Model Railroad
European Imports
Famous Brands
Ferenbaugh Campsite
Fezz’s Diner
First Citizens Bank-Mansfield
First Citizens Bank-Wellsboro
First Heritage Federal Credit Union
First Impressions
Flemings Antiques
Foodland
Friends of the Green Free Library
Frontier Communications
Fulkerson Winery
Galeton Drug
Gehman’s Ornamental Iron
Genesee Natural Foods
Germania Hotel
Gleason Motors
Gold General Store
Gold Mountain Enterprises Inc
Gold, Silver & Diamond Store
Grady D. Gafford, MD
Greely’s Auto Parts
Guardian Home & Community Services
Gustin’s Gallery Goldsmiths
Guthrie Healthcare System
Hackett & Sons
Hall’s Home & Lumber
Hamilton-Gibson Productions
HAMPSON’S AGWAY
Harbor Counseling
Hazlitt 1852 Vineyards
Heal My Sole
Hearts Desire
Hershey Farms Market & Trucking
Hess Farm Equipment Inc
Hickory Fest/Hickory Productions LLC
Highland Chocolates
Holly’s Hounds
Hoover Industrial Supply
Horton, Nan
Howbill Auto Parts Inc
Indigo Wireless
Internos Initiatives, LLC
Jamie Lou’s Gourmet Cafe
Jim’s Sporting Goods
John’s Sporting Goods
K C Larson Inc.
Karschner & Sons
Kettle Creek Ambulance
Assn. Music Fest
Keystone Construction Specialists
Keystone Garden Works
Keystone North Inc
Kim Runey Therapeutic Massage
Kitty’s Place
Knowles LP Gas
Koch Homestead Realty
L & M Construction
Lack + Strosser Architecture
Lake Country Motorsports
Lakeview Cinema
Lakewood Vineyards
Lamb & Webster Inc
Land Services Group
Lane’s Yamaha Inc.
Lantz’s Hobby Shop
Larry’s Sport Center
Laurel Health
Lewis Homes, Inc.
Lockhart’s Amish Furniture
Lydia’s
Maloney’s Pub
Mansfield Fleet Service Inc
Mansfield University
Mark’s Brother’s Restaurant
Market Street Chiropractic
Martin Communications
McConnell’s Country Store & Fly Shop Inc
Mead’s Auction & Rental Service
Memorial Hospital
Mill Street Market
Misty Morning Maple
Morris Chair Shop
Morris Fire Department
Mountain Valley Realty LLC
Mountain Valley Realty
– Laura Cook
Mountain Valley Realty
– Christina Costanzo
Native Bagel
Nestor’s Service Center, Inc.
New York History Review
Nob Hill Motel
North Country Woodworking
Northeast Trade Co
Northern Tier Cultural Alliance
Northern Tier Real Estate
Olde Barn Centre
Olga Gallery, Cafe, & Bistro
Open MRI of Elmira
Open MRI of Williamsport
Oscar’s Flooring Outlet
Oswald Cycle Works
Otto’s Book Store
Owlett’s Farm Market
PA Apple Cheese Festival
PA College of Technology
PA E-Commerce Association
PA Heritage Festival/ Artisans Shoppe
Painter’s Meat Processing
Papa V’s Pizzeria & Restaurant
Parente Beard
Patterson’s Farms
Penn Oak Realty Inc.
Penn Oak Realty – Dave Miller
Penn Oak Realty – Misty
Miller-Lewis
Penn Oak Realty – Jan Southworth
Penn Wells Hotel & Lodge
Pennsylvania Bowhunters Festival
Pennsylvania Lumber Museum
Phoenix Resources, Inc.
Waste Management
Pips Boutique
Point Barn/Edelholz
Potter-Tioga Maple Festival
Potter County Outfitters
Potter/Tioga Maple Producers Assn
Prayerfully Yours
R&J Laboratories
Radisson Hotel
Rainbow Paradise Trout Farm
Real Estaters of Mansfield
– Chris Gilbert
Real Estaters of Westfield
Rekindle the Spirit Inc.
Retirement Estates
Richard Strauch Audiology
Richner’s Hardwood Showcase
Rockwell Feed
Ron Baltzley Hardwoods, Inc.
Rough Cut Lodge
Sandy Colegrove
Accounting & Payroll
Settlement Post and Beam
Sharp Landscaping
Sherwood Motel
Simmons Rockwell
Simply Terrie’s
Sitel
Ski Sawmill
Slate Run Tackle Shop
Spencer, Gleason, Hebe & Rague, P.C.
Spotts Awning & Tent Rental
St. Paul’s Episcopal Church
Stained Glass Reflections
Steak House
Stevens Real Estate
Sticky Bucket Maple
Stony Fork Natural Stone
Susquehanna Health
Susquehanna Marble & Granite LLC
Susquehanna Valley Velo Club
Swartz Electric
Sylvan Glen, Inc.
Tanglewood Camping
Ted’s Woodworking Terry’s Hoagies
Thornapple Design Company
Thunderbird Global Development LLC
Tioga Central Railroad
Tioga County Fair
Tioga County Partnership for Community Health
Tioga Office Products
Tony’s Italian Cuisine
Tony’s Tioga Trolley Tours
Trails End Realty
Twin Tier Imaging
Twin Tiers Media Solutions
Ultra Resources, Inc
United Country Realty Pioneers
– Tom Mullen & Associates
United Country Realty
Pioneers – Wellsboro
Valley View Estates
Victorian Christmas
Village Sampler
Vision Group Ventures
Walters Elkland Chevrolet
Ward Manufacturing
Warm-up Shop
Watkins Glen Harbor Hotel
Watkins Glen International
Walters Elkland Chevrolet
Wegmans
Wellsboro Community Concert Assn
Wellsboro Veterinary Hospital
Westgate Inn
Whispering Evergreens
Williams Oil & Propane
Windmill Farm & Craft Market
Woolrich Inc
Wools Decorative Concrete
Wren’s Nest
MOUNTAIN C HATTER
Gifts of Love and Care
It started out as two separate projects designed to provide support to veterans and American military personnel stationed overseas, but has morphed into something new with a life of its own.
For the last serveral years the Woolrich Woolen Mills, based in the town of Woolrich, about seven miles outside Lock Haven, has been sending patriotic blankets called “Freedom Throws” to our men and woman overseas. Eventually the program expanded to Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington, D.C., where Woolrich provided the throws to “wounded warriors” who have served the U.S. during the Iraq and Afghanistan wars.
More recently company representatives were in discussions with Downtown Lock Haven Inc. manager Maria Boileau, who explained to Woolrich executives the motivations behind the “Hometown Heroes” banner program honoring veterans from Clinton County.
Woolrich employees were already planning on making their next trip to Walter Reed to distribute their freedom throws in December,
according to Boileau, and decided to partner with Downtown Lock Haven Inc. on the project.
“They were so nice, and we were talking with them about the Hometown Heroes program, so they said, ‘Since you’re already doing that, why don’t we get together on the Wounded Warriors program?’ Boileau said.
The Wounded Warriors program is part of an effort Woolrich makes every four to six weeks to escort injured U.S. soldiers and sailors through the halls of the Pentagon, where they’re met and greeted by Pentagon officials and cheered and applauded for the difficult work they’ve done on behalf of their country. At the close of the day they are presented
with a freedom throw by Woolrich reps.
Holiday House Tour
Do you remember the first time you saw Wellsboro? The first time you saw the fountain, the Disney-esque Main Street—and the houses, the lovely, quaint houses? Have you ever thought to yourself, “That home is so beautiful. I wonder what it looks like inside?” Now’s your chance to find out with some of Wellsboro’s gems in the Endless Mountain Music Festival’s 2nd Annual Holiday House Tour.
Four houses will be featured this year, including the Wynkoop house (below) on Waln Street and Detta Ahlgren’s house on Main Street. Learn
about the homes’ histories and walk through them—all the while supporting the Endless Mountain Music Festival.
Dorotha Harding, owner of Tioga Office Products in Wellsboro, thought of the idea for the fundraiser because of her love of Wellsboro homes.
“I just want people to have the opportunity to see what they’re like on the inside,” says Dorotha.
“Some have a really interesting history. And, as with Detta Ahlgren’s house, she’s been all over the world and has such interesting things in her house, things she has great stories about.”
The tour is going to be held on Friday, December 3rd, 4 p.m. through 7 p.m. It will begin at the Tioga County Historical Museum, “The Robinson House,” at 120 Main Street. Advance tickets are $12, but tickets will be available at the museum the day of the tour from 3:30 p.m. to 6 p.m. for $15. For more information, call Tioga Office Products at (570) 724-4060 or The Fifth Season at (570) 724-6910.
~Dawn Bilder
Through the interaction with the wounded veterans, Woolrich employees learned that there was a serious need among the vets for items like soap, hand lotion, deodorant, magazines, disposable razors, and snack and personal hygiene items… even DVD movies, and the company approached Downtown Lock Haven Inc. about helping to provide care packages to the wounded warriors.
As of today, hundreds of items have been collected in a box at the Downtown Lock Haven Inc. headquarters at 105 East Main Street in the city. Contributions may continue through December 1. On the following day the materials will be packaged up for the Walter Reed patients and on December 3 a contingent of Woolrich and Downtown Lock Haven Inc. representatives will arrive at the military hospital to present the care packages to the veterans in person.
And the project continues to grow. Recently Lock Haven University’s Phi Mu Delta fraternity volunteered to place collection boxes in all of the university’s dormitories and residence halls in order to facilitate more donations.
Mary Myers, the marketing coordinator for Woolrich Elite Series Tactical products, said she’s personally been to Walter Reed to make donations on several occasions, and won’t soon forget it.
“What a humbling experience,” she said. “I’ve never received so many hugs and thank yous. They just think it’s great that someone comes in from the outside and shows that they care.”
~Matt Connor
Maria Boileau with donations for the troops.
…There’s something about Dunham’s
Browse our departments and find the perfect gift for everyone from that special sweetie to that very particular teenager. When you’ve finished shopping, our elves will wrap every purchase for free, ready to tuck under the tree.
Can’t decide? Give a Dunham’s Gift Card, and let that special someone experience the magic of shopping in Pennsylvania’s last family-owned department store.
Special Purchase (while supplies last.)–20 oz. festive tin of lightly salted gourmet Virginia Peanuts for just $5 with any purchase of $50 or more (Does not include purchases from the Coffee shop, Do It Center or Furniture Store.)
Santa never had it so easy!
www.dunhamswellsboro.com
Mrs. Claus
Need a little Christmas? alyce reese is there to help
By Dawn Bilder
Photography by anne Davenport-leete
The tips of the orange and blue flames reached up into the dark, snowy night like the pointed fingers of a haunted hand as the family watched their home and all of their belongings burn. It was Christmas Eve. Firefighters tried steadily to save what they could, but fire is a greedy thief which, even when caught, rarely returns what it steals.
The mother stood far off from the flames, but could feel their heat. She knew what continued to feed the fire were all the things that her family owned and loved. Frightened and stunned, she thought about how much she had been looking forward to a happy Christmas day and reflected on how safe she had felt before going to bed. She imagined her clothes and furniture aflame and had to look downward when she pictured the plastic in her kids’ Christmas presents melting within the surrounding smolder of their boxes’ charred wrappings. She felt more than thought, This can’t be happening.
How was it possible to feel such icy coldness down in the pit of one’s soul, when surrounded by such hellish heat?
Fortunately more help was on the way, in perhaps unlikely form. Then-eighty-three-yearold Alyce Reese and her friend and coworker, eighty-five-year-old Barb Heimel, were having trouble finding the right address because of the bad weather and time of night. Alyce is the founder of Christmas House, a private, nonprofit organization in Coudersport, Pennsylvania, which, among other things, brings Christmas presents and dinners to families in need every year and helps people year-round whose homes burn down.
They were bringing clothes, necessities, and more Christmas presents for the family.
Driving for what seemed like hours, they had to ask themselves, “What business do two eightyyear-old women have out here in two feet of snow, on a strange one-lane road, in the middle of the night?” But despite their frustration and anxiety to get to the family who needed them as soon as possible, the answer was easy: for them, and all the volunteers at Christmas House, their business is helping people.
Now eighty-five, with big brown eyes and large, bright square teeth, Reese could easily pass for a woman in her sixties. She has the enthusiasm of an eighteen-year-old about to embark on a college career, the directness and focus of a matador, and the generous warmth of an Indian summer.
It is a Wednesday in November and Reese is sitting inside Christmas House, which is located in the old meat market in downtown Coudersport. Her week has been pretty typical. Monday, she and some volunteers made bedding for baby doll cradles that were added to the presents to be donated as Christmas gifts to people all over the county whose names have been provided by school nurses, pastors, and caseworkers. The House’s walls are lined
with hundreds of wrapped Christmas presents, including toys that have been built, dolls dressed and groomed, homemade afghans, lap robes, hats, socks, and mittens—and donated toys and toys bought through donations. By December 24 of each year, Christmas House has wrapped and delivered many thousands of Christmas gifts. In 2009, they provided presents for over eleven hundred children as well as some adults.
Reese spent Tuesday, in collaboration with the Salvation Army, writing checks to utility companies to keep families from having their electric and gas turned off. Last year, more than two hundred families were aided in this way.
Every August, Christmas House provides new school shoes for children and youth.
Today, she points to a chair with a man’s coat draped over it and explains with a smile, “We found this coat for a man whose wife got mad at him and burnt all his clothes.” Nine months of the year are spent sorting, washing, and sizing clothing for people in need, including residents of nursing and personal homes and the long-term care unit at Charles Cole Memorial Hospital.
There is a room in the back stacked with food for Christmas dinners, and the rest of the year they collaborate with local food pantries when people are in need of basic food items.
At Christmas House, they consider helping people whose homes burn down one of their top priorities. They assist six to ten families a year, sometimes more, providing comfort bags with what they call “first-loss items”— toothbrushes, toothpaste, shampoo, soap, wash cloths, and towels. Shortly afterward, they donate household items, like bedding, furniture, and clothing. They have six storage sheds full of furniture.
Seeing and hearing the scope and magnitude of what Christmas House does, it’s easy to see why they are known as “a house of miracles.”
And this leads to the next question: Who is Alyce Reese and how has she accomplished all of this? How did she become the Mrs. Claus of Christmas House?
Born outside of Seven Bridges, Pennsylvania, in 1925, Reese has worked her whole life. When her kids were young, she ran a day care center. Then she sold Tupperware (at one point she was ranked fifth in the world in her company). Finally she became a nursing assistant, working mostly with the mentally ill for ten to fifteen years. In 1981, she and her husband, Gene, and their four kids, moved to Coudersport from
Facing page: Alyce whispering in Santa’s ear…Santa is played my Mark Benson. Top: Alyce (left) and Monica Porter: Monica is a volunteer and wraps all the gifts one-handed because of health issues.
Middle: Jean and Ed Pruitt. Bottom: One small section of the walls at the Christmas House.
“A GRIPPING PAGE-TURNER”
-- bestselling crime novelist Michael Connelly
The Murder Room (Gotham Books/Penguin Books) goes on sale in stores August 10. It can be ordered or pre-ordered on Amazon (www.Amazon.com) Barnes & Noble (www.bn.com), and Borders (www.borders. com). The Murder Room Audiobook on CD, read by Broadway actor Adam Grupper, is available from Simon & Schuster (www.simonandschuster.com).
Warminster, Pennsylvania.
The most striking thing about Reese, besides her vitality and her instant likeability, is her sense of humor. She’s obviously a deeply religious lady with much faith and commitment to helping others, but, when asked during her interview if she has any funny stories from her experiences with Christmas House, she immediately laughs and warns the one man in the room not to listen. “A few years ago,” she begins, “there was a fire, and the poor family needed clothes right away. I talked with a fireman, who was supposed to get the sizes of the family members, and one of the things he was supposed to find out for me was the mother’s shoe and bra size. He didn’t want to ask her about her bra size and didn’t, but he said, ‘It’s a 44DDD.’ I asked him, ‘How do you know? Do you know her?’ He said, ‘No, but I know.’ So, I bring the clothes to the family, and sure enough, that’s her size.”
Reese isn’t hesitant to tell people her age. In fact, when asked how old she is, she says, “I’ll be eighty-six in January.” She smiles. “I’ve been saying my age like that since I was twenty-nine.”
Her late husband, Gene, who died twelve years ago, was a big influence on her and her attitude toward giving to others. “Gene was always pushing me to go with him to help people. So, I finally would just give up and put on my boots and go help him.” Reese speaks affectionately and with deep love, as though Gene were still alive and sitting there in the room—and, for her, perhaps he is.
“Finally, in 1984, Gene convinced me to start a resource center with the county which would provide Christmas dinners to families who couldn’t afford them. After a while, I realized that, if these families didn’t have enough money for Christmas dinners, they probably didn’t have enough money for Christmas presents either, so I started providing presents, too. That’s where it all began.”
Reese may be the Mrs. Claus of Christmas House, but she is the first to point out that none of it would be possible without her volunteers. “I want to tell you,” says Reese adamantly, “I have the best workers in the world. There’s not a thing I do but boss them around.” And, truly, where would any Claus be without dedicated elves?
Though there are many elves, all of whom Reese took the time during her interview to introduce and explain their special gifts and
contributions, there are three who have been with her from almost the beginning.
When Christmas House was still a countyfunded resource center, Reese began working with original elf no. 1, fifty-year-old Mark Benson, who was a close friend of Gene’s. In fact, they were more like father and son, since Benson’s dad had died when he was two. Benson, who worked and still works for Human Services in Coudersport, ran deliveries with Gene for Reese.
From the beginning, Reese and Benson didn’t get along. “We hated each other,” clarifies Reese. The discordance continued until fourteen years later when Gene died in 1998. On his deathbed, Benson asked Gene if he could do anything for him. Gene responded, “Take care of Alyce for me.”
“Well!” Reese says with a laugh, “when I heard that, I thought, ‘No! Not Mark! Anyone but Mark!” But a tentative friendship started up between them, and now they’re hilarious together, obviously tender and supportive of each other, although still enjoying the occasional stab for old times’ sake.
“I made a mistake the other day,” says Benson, pointing to Reese. “I called her an old woman.” Reese laughs beside him. The other Christmas House volunteers in the room shake their heads pleasantly and say, “We didn’t let him get away with that.”
“No, they didn’t,” Benson says, looking at Reese. “I think we have a good friendship now. I try never to say no to her.” The volunteers in the room add, “She wouldn’t let you.” Reese smiles at Benson wickedly, “I wouldn’t hear him if he did say no.”
One thing is strikingly clear. All of the volunteers are women, except for Benson. “My daughter calls us ‘The Sisterhood,’” says Reese. “And that includes Mark.” Then in a serious moment Reese calls Benson “the most thoughtful man,” and he calls her, “an amazing woman.”
Despite his busy caseload, Benson inevitably finds his way to Christmas House daily, moving furniture, delivering Christmas presents, anything and everything that has to be done. He even plays Santa Claus every year for their open house. “I like being here and helping,” says Benson. “The work I do here doesn’t wear me out like the other work in my life does.”
In 1987, the county consolidated all of its programs into the Human Services building in Coudersport, which included Reese’s See Christmas House on page 46
The
Cheryl A. Beichner, CPA (814) 698-2000 86 Whitney Creek Rd Coudersport, PA 16915 cheryl@cabcpa.net
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The Order of the Patrons of Husbandry, more commonly called the Grange, was founded in 1867 for farm families to band together for mutual benefit. In the beginning a primary purpose was education and social contact for the farmers. In Bradford County, the Pike Grange No. 39, formed in 1873, was the first. In Tioga County, the Charleston Valley Grange No. 54, also established in 1873, was the first. The Charleston Valley Grange is one of three remaining in Tioga County in 2010.
Among the political causes embraced by the Grange were the regulation of grain warehouses and railroads, the development of the Cooperative Extension Service and the Farm Credit System. The POH also supported and lobbied for women’s suffrage. Presidents Franklin D. Roosevelt and Harry Truman were both POH members.
Over the decades of the Twentieth Century as rural populations declined from a third of the national population to less than two percent, the grange membership also fell. In Tioga County a high count of about fifty-five grange chapters fell to thirty-one in 1966, to seven in 2005, and in 2010 three remain. They are Charleston Valley, Sebring, and Tioga. There is no longer a Juvenile Grange in the county. The Tioga County Pomona Grange still meets three times annually. Pomona Grange Master Francis Murphy of Tioga says that the function of the Grange now is community service.
In Bradford County a count of twentysix chapters in 1966 fell to thirteen by 2005, and the number continues to fall as Granges consolidate or close.
The local POH was part of the glue that held the rural communities together
and defined them. At the end of the Nineteenth Century Elk Run in Sullivan Township, as an example, had a post office, a school, a grange, and a church. The Elk Run Post Office was one of the first to go when Rural Free Delivery gave it a Mansfield address in 1903.The Elk Run School closed in the 1940s and students were sent to Mansfield. In 1992, the Elk
Run Methodist Church was closed. In 1995 the East Sullivan Grange, the final community resource, closed its doors. As with so many other rural communities, there is no longer a local identity, and most people do not even know the area as Elk Run anymore.
The Grange is nonpartisan. It does not support political parties or candidates, and though it was originally for farming families, it is now open to anyone. It has broadened its interests with many Granges working on gardening issues and community building. It is not gone yet and new members are welcome.
Joyce M. Tice is the creator of the Tri-Counties Genealogy and History Web site (www.joycetice. com/jmtindex.htm). She can be reached at lookingback@mountainhomemag.com.
Charleston Valley grange courtesy Joyce M. tice
OU T d O O RS
Healing Nature
When critters are in trouble, animal rehabbers answer the call of the wild
By Angela Cannon-Crothers
There is something innately human about wanting to save an abandoned or injured wild animal. Possibly aiding injured or abandoned wildlife reminds us of our connections to the natural world or even a biological response to some maternal instinct. Factor in the helpless baby animal, especially if it is the face only a mother could love, and few of us could just walk away without some feeling of remorse or urgent need to assist. For licensed wildlife rehabilitators like Barb Cole and Shelly Schlueter, healing wildlife is their passion and their life.
“The highlight of my job is releasing an animal back into the wild,” says Shelly Schlueter, a wildlife rehabber in Montour Falls, New York. When Shelly was a teenager living in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, in the early ’70s, she and her sister, Sherry, came upon an injured bird. Not wanting to leave the animal to suffer or become easy prey,
they brought the bird to a woman known locally as The Bird Lady. The woman, it turned out, was Beatrice Humphries, a famous wildlife rehabilitator who started the SPCA Wild Bird Care Center in Fort Lauderdale in 1969. Humphries asked Shelly and her sister if they would like to stay and learn from her.
Shelly and her sister took to wildlife rehab the way a great blue heron takes to wading. Eventually, Shelly took over operations of Humphries’ nonprofit and saw the facility grow into a four-acre wildlife care facility in Florida that soon treated not just birds, but a variety of both exotic and native species. Her sister, Sherry, went on to become the first anti-cruelty director of the Humane Society and eventually, the new executive director of The Bird Lady’s legacy: The Wildlife Care Center, in corporate conjunction with the Humane Society of the United States. Since 1990, Shelly
Schlueter has been running her own small wildlife rehabilitation facility, Wildkind Care, in Montour Falls, New York.
Schlueter says that “back in Florida, the biggest issues facing wildlife came from polluted waters, agricultural sprays, and human interference. When I came to Hector, New York, with my former husband and then-four-year-old, I thought this must be God’s country!” Schlueter, who has been relocated up North for twenty years now, adds, “thankfully, we don’t see as much in the way of polluted waters affecting wildlife, but a lot of habitat altering and constant new development.” Schlueter says the most common wildlife injuries she sees involve attacks from family pets, uncapped chimney slues, and human interference. “I see some pretty rough cruelties,” says Schlueter, “but I meet more people who care. I had a couple once that drove nearly fifty miles one way just to bring me an injured mouse.”
Left: A rare wood turtle that had been rolled over by a car; Center: A baby screetch owl that was the only survivor when a tree was felled with a nest of owletts inside; Right: A short-tailed weasel that was caught by a cat and brought to Barbara Cole, who bottle-fed, weaned, and released it.
Hang an ornament on the Tree of Hope this December 4th, in front of the Methodist Church in Wellsboro (corner of Queen and Main). Do it in support of drug and alcohol recovery and the hope that recovery can bring.
Pa
Dickens 2010, Wellsboro,
Schlueter sees mostly birds and small mammals like opossum, squirrels, and even mice, sometimes up to 200 or more animals a year. And she can vouch for the intelligence, amazing abilities, and personalities of wild animals. “I got a call about a nest of baby mice that had accidently been transported in a box of goods at least a quarter mile away from where the movers had seen an adult mouse jump out. In less than an hour, the mother mouse found her babies It was amazing,” says Schlueter. She mentioned other interesting studies: like crows that can recognize a human face they haven’t seen for two years.
“I rehab because it is a continual source of wonder to me, and I can never stop learning about the creatures under my care,” says Barb Cole. Cole noted that a grey squirrel can smell its cache of acorns under two feet of snow, and a pigeon in the U.S. can hear low frequency sounds in the wind over mountains in South America.
Cole, who operates Southern Tier Wildlife Center in Owego, New York, has been involved in rehab for nearly twentysix years. She specializes in bird care and is
active as a trainer for others interested in obtaining wildlife rehab certification. Cole, like most rehabbers I talked to, mentions that from April to August their lives are almost too busy tending to the wild animals people bring in to even think about much of anything else.
“Ninety-five percent of rehab is cleaning cages,” confesses Schlueter, who stresses the importance of keeping animal enclosures clean in order to keep the animals healthy. “And we aren’t funded by any agencies or anything,” she adds. “It’s difficult to make it; we depend on donations and many volunteers.”
One of Schlueter’s biggest challenges came with the overwintering care of a trumpeter swan a couple years back. “The bird was almost as tall as I was,” says Schlueter. Due to the limited size of her own facilities and transport issues to the Wildlife Health Center in Ithaca for hydrotherapy (in order to keep the bird’s muscles strong) Schlueter referred to this patient as her most memorable “problem child.” The bird was successfully released in the spring.
As someone who has cared for and released a screech owl I hit with my car, has had the
Top: A red-throated loon, grounded in a winter storm, was released near Oswego Lake; Bottom: An injured porcupine treated at Cornell Wildlife Care Center
extreme pleasure of hand releasing a juvenile osprey rescued by a family of Ojibwa, and has raised and released a yellow warbler as a child, I understand the feelings you can have for an individual wild animal, but also question the contribution it makes to wildlife as a whole.
When Cole is asked if she believes it was valuable to save one individual, she says with a sigh, “Most sensible rehabilitators know that what we do has very little impact on wildlife populations, unless it is an endangered species we are working with.” Still, Cole believes that even the most common wild animals carry important genetic information for their species. “And,” she adds, “the techniques we learn to use to save those common species are also the skills we use when working with those that are rarer. In other words, what I do to raise a starling is pretty similar to how I would save a scarlet tanager, a species whose populations are rapidly diminishing!”
Says Cole, “animals come in for help because of us, or some unfortunate result of interaction between civilization and wildlife: They smack into our windows,
get attacked by our cats, hit by our cars, get poisoned by our lawn chemicals; rehabilitation is a chance to give a little back to the natural world.”
Consider the overwhelming presence of civilization, habitat loss, pollution, and other man-made changes to the environment, and it’s hard to believe anything can survive us. Cole says, “I have learned that these animals are not fragile little creatures, they are as tough as nails—Bambi can kick you to pieces. And if an animal goes extinct, it is not because we have tinkered with a delicate balance; it is because we have taken a sledgehammer to the world.”
To make a donation to either of these wildlife rehabilitations centers, write to: Shelly Schueler, Wildkind Care, 3674 Cronk Road, Montour Falls, 14865 or contact Barb Cole at Southern Tier Wildlife Center at brancher@clarityconnect.com or 607-687-1584.
Angela Cannon-Crothers is a freelance writer and outdoor educator living in the Finger Lakes region of New York.
Top: Baby possums found in their mother’s pouch after she was hit by a car. Above: Young hatchlings nursed back to health.
The Lunker A Real Classic Fred Metarko
It was the last club tournament of the year, the two-day Classic, fishing on Hammond and Cowanesque Lakes.
Around 6:45 Saturday morning the boat was in the driveway hooked up. Closing the door on the Jeep I went to tell Linda, “Bye.” There was a loud click—the doors had automatically locked. I reached into my pocket the keys weren’t there. Looking through the window I saw one set in the ignition and one in the cup holder. I tried all the doors, the rear hatch and sunroof nothing budged. Linda came out to see what was taking so long. I said, “I locked the keys in the Jeep.” She headed to the house saying, “I’ll get my set.” I had to repeat a few times, “That won’t work, they’re in the Jeep. I carry both sets so I won’t get locked out.”
After much pacing I called Skip Bastian to say I would be late, if I made it at all. Then I used a large screwdriver to pass between the door and roof, displacing the rubber to make a small hole. I bent a loop in the end of a wire clothes hanger and pushed it through the hole. After many tries I caught the knob of the release button. With a steady, careful pull the lock released and the door was open.
At the lake everyone was launched, sitting in the fog, waiting for the start. J.R. Fye was having battery problems. He was fishing alone, as was I. He transferred his gear to my boat, and climbed in.
The lake had been down three feet, but with all the rain it had risen to almost regular pool. The water was muddy with lots of floating debris. We fished around most of the lake. I caught one largemouth. Most were
having problems catching fish. J.R. never had a bite.
Back at home Linda helped me. I handed her rods, snack bag, tackle box and jackets from the boat. She took them inside, returned as I threw her the boat cover bag to put in the Jeep. Turning around to say, “I can’t open the back,” she saw me lying on the driveway. She had set the tackle box on the trailer step. As I climbed over the side I stepped on the box which gave way. Landing on my back, my head hit the pavement and my glasses flew off, landing beside me. I lay there for a while making sure nothing was broken. That was just the first day!
Tremayne Harer fished with me on Cowanesque. We started across from the launch, where I caught two largemouths. We tried other areas and lures with no luck.
I finished in fifth place with three fish. Curt Sweely finished second. I had to pay him two dollars to cover our side bet.
It was suggested that I carry three sets of keys.
The Lunker is a member of the Tioga County Bass Anglers (www.tiogacountybassanglers.com). Contact him at lunker@mountainhomemag.com.
B O d Y & S OUL
Marriage…As a House
While
transforming a house, a couple transforms a relationship
By Florence Millahn
Iwondered how we had arrived here standing before this sad and disheveled farmhouse. Its siding, after decades of neglect, clung desperately to blistering remnants of paint as if trying to preserve a dignity long gone. The foundation upon which it stood struggled to maintain its integrity as cracks led to portals inviting unwelcomed guests. The man next to me strolled over to his truck to retrieve a long, sharp tool with which he randomly proceeded to poke and prod the old house. He then turned to me and said, “It’s not that bad.” Simultaneously, we both took a step back and stared at the old farmhouse as if it were a work of art. I’m not quite sure at that moment if we were seeing this house as it had once been or for what it yet could be. Or perhaps, we had both gone mad.
In the fall of the previous year, I headed west on New York Route 17. I had swapped my SUV for my son’s more fuel-efficient car which appeared more youthful and sporty. As I was enjoying the scenery, my middle age driving ways shifted to those of twentyfive years earlier. My eyes gazed for a moment at the passenger sitting to my right. He was sleeping quietly. I asked myself, “Who is this man?” Perhaps a strange question to ask when it’s the man I had married twenty-three years ago; but still, a truly valid question.
As all marriages face challenges, I contemplated the phrase that people often recite when they are at a crossroad, “We have grown apart.” He and I, indeed, had grown apart. Years of working opposite schedules, years of volunteering, years of chasing the elusive American dream had left us tired, and more tragically, had left us strangers. I now wondered honestly that if people could grow apart…could they possibly grow back together again? With this question in mind, we drove
into the Twin Tiers.
A planned weekend in the Finger Lakes region can certainly soothe the soul. It can’t, however, change all the conflicting dynamics of a marriage. But, for us, it was a start. Slowing down to stroll through some of the quaint towns, discovering a new restaurant which did not disappoint, enjoying the natural beauty of the many lakes and parks were all healing. To revisit old passions was also healing. For him, a visit to the warplane museum resurrected fond memories of his Air Force days as well as his love of aviation. For me, a visit to the glass museum reminded me of the infinite vision of the human imagination. Who could think of glass in the same way?
Returning to New Jersey and to the madness we create in an attempt to make ourselves “a living,” I found myself daydreaming of a place four hours away. Daydreams consequently became Internet searches. Local events in the Twin Tiers were now at my fingertips. With the memories of our recent trip still fresh and with an overwhelming nostalgia of Christmas holidays experienced as a child, I called my husband with a suggestion. And so we returned, this time to Wellsboro.
antler-clad canines, in the gratitude of the vendors, or in the warmth of chowder on a very cold day. Reluctant as we were to leave, it was time to find our lodging outside of town. On the way there, we paused to take in the view of the Grand Canyon at one of the overlooks. It occurred to me that so many of our days have been mechanical. Today, we both slowed down and experienced life as it should be and it was magical.
Living in the moment is a task that neither of us was particularly good at. We had fallen victims to routine. Our American dream was succumbing to insomnia. But today, something was different. We parked our vehicle on a side street and walked several blocks to the heart of the Dickens Festival. As we rounded a corner, snow began to fall…the large wet flakes which usually do not stay for long. Today, they stayed a while. We had stepped into our own personal snow globe, one which the divine had raised up and gently shook.
Back in New Jersey, my Internet searches transitioned from finding local events to finding real estate listings. Months of this practice went by until I had collected a handful that were both affordable and had potential for renovation. In a moment of spontaneity, my husband and I decided to drive Route 6 and find the homes for ourselves…for the fun of it. From Towanda to Gaines, we ventured on and off Route 6 with our list. Ten hours later, we had just one listing left, a century-old farmhouse whose photo reflected its despair.
If you drink alcohol with family and friends while you celebrate the blessings of the season, please do so responsibly. Don’t drink and drive and don’t supply alcohol to anyone under 21 years of age. ink soberly. Act safely.
May you have a happy and safe holiday season.
Somehow, this house intrigued me the most. Unable to find the road, my husband suggested we abandon the search. At that moment, we came upon a township worker on the side of the road. Upon our asking for directions, the gracious man instructed us to follow him… he would take us there.
Driving up the long, dirt road which ran in back of the farmhouse, we sought out the seller. The township worker had told us that the seller was actually building a new home on top of the hill behind the farmhouse. He had recently acquired the property and was looking to sell the old farmhouse with some of the acreage. Rounding a bend in the road, we were presented with an image I can only liken to a slim, sleighriding Santa on Christmas Eve. It was, in fact, the seller driving his Allis-Chalmers swiftly along the ridge. When he noticed us, the white-bearded Dutchman drove over and turned off the motor.
Learning of our interest, he offered to show the house and the three of us walked down the road quietly. When he unlocked the side door, we were greeted by a stale and musty odor. The house had not been inhabited for three years and seemed to beg for someone to open its windows so it could breathe. At that very moment, I felt
akin to the house.
The beginning of a beautiful
friendship
Henry was sitting on the side porch of the farmhouse waiting patiently for us and with the anticipation of selling a house. We had tried to reach him to let him know that we were running late, but we quickly became acquainted with the area’s unpredictable cell service. Henry, our realtor, was cordial and let us in the house to look around once again. When we returned, he asked us if we would like to make an offer. We did. He then set off on foot up the hill to present it to the sellers.
As we were peeping about, the side door opened and in walked a tall German woman, the Dutchman, and Henry. She shook my hand and told me how much her husband had wanted her to come meet me and, then, embraced me as if we had known each other for years. I was already surmising that we had a deal when Henry asked us to sit down at the rickety kitchen table, the same table that the Dutchman had “thrown in” to seal the deal. Enthusiasm was contagious and both parties initialed and signed with less than full attention
to details. But it was all good and right… and all of us felt it.
The husbands, whose friendship had already been forged in a conversation about tractors, ventured into the attic to explore the structure. She and I ventured to the front porch to chat; it was the beginning of a wonderful friendship. Even Henry, whose deal was complete, lingered. He had commented on how the events of the day were so much more than a real estate transaction and he was right.
A few weeks before the closing, Lehman Brothers filed for bankruptcy, AIG was in need of a bailout, and banks were beginning to fall like the apples in our farm’s orchard. At work, many of us who were in the securities business for a long time were embarking on a surreal journey into the new reality of financial markets. As the closing was scheduled, I worried if my bank would be overtaken by the FDIC. I guess Mr. Dickens’ words sum it up best, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…” The economy was falling apart and we were buying a house.
The façade of our newly purchased farmhouse was like our marriage. It needed great attention on the outside but was sound underneath. We
had decided to attack the siding as our first project. It was mid-October and with winter approaching, we had great expectations of completely re-siding the entire place. As we pulled each board from the house, some fell apart in our hands. We were now exposing the stalwart bones of the house, rough cut vertical planks secured to hand hewn beams. We marveled at the construction so different than the modern-day kind with which we were familiar; but it had withstood the test of time.
As we neared the end of our extended weekend in Tioga County, we were dismayed that we had completed only one side of the house. Trying to facilitate our progress when we returned the next month, our kind neighbor had already set up his own scaffolding on our house. He often joined us on our mission, a man in his seventies who could scale the rails better than most men decades younger. As I cut the siding below and passed it up, I was witness to a strengthening bond between two men, a generation apart. As the siding progressed, the other neighbors began to stop by. We’d exchange our stories, they would comment on the changes, and relay stories of the elderly gentleman who had last lived in the house. I was pleased to hear how well everyone spoke of him and I hoped we were honoring his memory.
The elderly farmer who had once resided in this house wasn’t the only one who once called the place home. The cluster flies, mice and a bat had consequently moved in. In retrospect, I am humored by how the pests of this house are so analogous to some of life’s circumstances. In Jersey, we have the common house fly and, at first, I thought the flies in the house were the same species. But no, they were the flies that never sleep, nor die. We spent many restless nights listening to the cacophony of cluster flies congregating at the windows. I can’t remember how many times I attempted to sweep up the ones who played dead on the floor, only to have them resurrect and rejoin the chorus. They remind me of metropolitan area living, people in perpetual state of rush surrounded by the constant buzz of technology and traffic.
The mice, on the other hand, were much more elusive. You rarely saw their presence, but you knew they were there. An everyday task would be to shovel up their remnants and disinfect. But somewhere in the house,
the source still loomed. As many of us in life focus on keeping up appearances, we oftentimes do not attack our problems head on. If the traps do not work, take other action. I recall one night when we had first purchased the house, we set up a sofa bed in the back room. After working all day, my husband was fast asleep, snoring. I lay awake and in the darkness I saw the shadow of a flying creature. I awoke him and told him what I saw. He responded that it was a bug and went back to sleep. I hid under the sheets until morning when the “big bug” presented itself. I had never seen a bat that closely. When it flew it could be mistaken for a bird, but when it landed and coiled in its wings, it became something much less appealing. Having read about the plight of the bats, I opened all the windows and implored my husband to shoo it out with a broom. After all, every living creature has a unique and beneficial purpose and each needs to be in the right place to thrive. Genuine friendships, too, are necessary to thrive. From the moment we met the couple who sold us the farmhouse, there was an immediate affinity. During our trips, we’d often reserve one evening with our friends spent at a local restaurant or at one of the church-sponsored dinners. Each of these evenings was pure entertainment as we were spectators to the ongoing banter between the two. This couple, married twice as many years as we, seemed to have mastered the art of marriage. I was awed to see that a man and woman now retired and spending each day together could be having so much fun. Most couples we knew at their age were scaling down, not building a beautiful new house on a hill with a panoramic view. After many of our dinner outings, we would “cruise around” on the less traveled roads of Tioga County like a bunch of teenagers laughing and telling stories. One evening as our husbands were tinkering with tractors, she and I began one of many heart-to-heart conversations. She was no longer just my friend, but my mentor on navigating both life and marriage.
Would I have ever guessed this woman was on her second bout with a major illness? Would I have ever guessed that she had lost a daughter who would now be just a few years younger than me? As she shared family photos with me, I hoped that the spirit of a beautiful daughter was looking over her mother and approving of her friendship
with me. The lessons I learned from my mentor are always smile, enjoy each day, never complain, and order what you really want from the menu. As we left for another outing, I watched the exchange between the husbands and I could see that my husband too was learning, particularly that action speaks louder than age. We were driving by a sister farmhouse to ours about a half mile down the road when the Dutchman laughed and said, “Flo, there’s another one for you to fix!” We all laughed as we knew this one was beyond restoration. Attention, protection, and invested time were the only difference between our farmhouse and this one. Marriage, like a house, requires the same. We felt comfort in our neighbor’s house sitting on the hill high above ours. We knew they kept a watchful eye. There was also the neighborhood sentinel who drove around the packed dirt roads on her four-wheeler, checking in on her neighbors. She was more than three quarters of a century old and she was feisty. We met her at the threshold of the room whose floors we were sanding. She had knocked but we didn’t hear her. She let herself in and followed the noise of the sanders. She waited until we noticed
her and when we shut down the machinery, she stood up straight, helmet in hand, and emphatically asked, “Do you know who I am?” I surprised her back when I said yes and called her by name as her four-wheeling ventures had gained her a reputation. I invited her for tea and the two of us sat for a while. At first it felt like an interrogation, but I felt she was warming up to me. I learned that she was born and raised in Tioga County and loved every minute of it. She gave me a brief historical account of the area and promised to bring me a detailed written one. She was a woman of her word. She visited again the following month with a three-ring binder filled with history and genealogy which even referenced our farmhouse. She also brought amazing homemade bread and apple crisp and a container of maple cream, finding humor in the fact that we had never had it before. She relayed her childhood memories of climbing the maple trees outside our house and began extolling the values of rural living. She also spoke of family and the commitment to caring for your own. I felt her passion. As she mounted her four-wheeler to leave while talking about renewing her hunting license, I admired her true-to-self nature. There must be a lesson here for us as well.
With the utterance of the words, “It’s not that bad,” an unforeseen pilgrimage had begun. While transforming the house, we ourselves were transforming. Each of the vertical planks which sheathed our house was like each of the journeys to our farm. Each spaced one after another was fortifying the house we call marriage. Each nail was the dialog, the listening, the holding of hands while traveling to get there. Our enthusiasm for our common goal to restore a house and the reliance on each other to reach it was like the brand new siding we had laid to weather the house from the storms. The friendships we made and the lessons we learned secured our own foundation just as we had sealed the century-old stone one. Even the ridding of the pests had a message: either let go of all the unnecessary things in life or put them in their proper place. The poet Rumi is quoted as saying, “Where there is ruin, there is hope for a treasure.” At a humble farmhouse nestled in Tioga County, we have indeed found treasure.
Florence Millahn is a business professional based in New Jersey. This is her first article for Mountain Home.
The Better World Lessons of the Amish
John & Lynne diamond-Nigh
We got married. Again. Just the two of us and a minister friend in a garden in Lancaster County, not far from where, long ago, a popular graduate professor and student had their first lunch together.
Each made a quiet speech to the other, standing in a scatter of white roses, the farmland of Lancaster County spread in a morning-twinkling mosaic of groves and pastures. I had looked for a metaphor. Religion came to mind. Good marriages undergo their own Pentecost, the touch of a matrimonial, magical spirit that enlivens an already-rich repertoire of emotions with a new depth of mystery and passion. A richer phase, deserving of its own ceremony.
No dove, no tongues of fire, just a hullaballoo of birds in the trees around us.
Early that morning horses clip-clopped past our window. Sitting on the verandah, we watched the plain blockish black carriages glide by, the Amish inside hardly more than phantoms from another world on their way to a church hidden down a thicket of lanes, impossible for outsiders like us to discover.
diligence and communal privacy that had matured for centuries into a nonpolluting, unavailable and richly efficient organization.
The skills and base of knowledge essential to a liberal arts education was vanishing.
Exactly at a time when Facebook was leaking our private information all over the globe, when the world seemed to be forgetting the very notion of private nobility, here was a group of people that still, in their highly distinctive way, embodied it. As Google’s CEO projected an almost Bolshevik ideal of social uniformity and utilitarianism, here was an instance of religious
Earlier that week, a friend from Oregon had called. She was crying. Out of her freshman class of thirty students, two had read an assigned book on time. Of those two, one had read the first paragraph of each chapter and considered that “reading the book.” In three weeks she had gotten to page six. Most of the class simply could not make their way through two hundred pages. The skills and base of knowledge essential to a liberal arts education was vanishing. Among designers there was a recent buzz over a huge marble finger, as in “giving the finger,” erected at a design show in Milan. An outré image tailor-made for the click of a camera and instant dispersion around the world. The ribald, of course, is hardly new; it has always had a rich, disheveling role both in high and in pop culture— Queen Esther to Lady Gaga. But this just seemed gratuitous, one more lousy little spark in an oceanic circuitry where nothing has time to mature beyond a laugh.
Fast world, slow world: we’ll always find fresh modes of enrichment and maturity. If not, the Amish will still be there to remind us.
John writes about art and design at serialboxx. blogspot.com. Lynne’s website, aciviltongue. com, is dedicated to civility studies.
A RTS & L EISURE
The Dickens Players A not-for-profit
band of uncured hams
By Larry Biddison
Photography by Robert J Blair
Dodging in, out, and around parked cars and trying our best to be heard above the roar of Wellboro’s logging trucks, a handful of folks in makeshift costumes assembled to sing, read poetry and perform skits as the Dickens Players for the first time twenty-seven Decembers ago. And what a twentyseven years it’s been.
Today Wellsboro’s Main Street is free of cars and trucks, making room for scores of vendors and thousands of visitors. It’s
much easier now for the Dickens Players to be seen and heard. Over the years, Dickens Players have orally interpreted both published and unpublished poems and stories. Venues have included street corners and makeshift outdoor stages, as well as the Penn Wells Hotel lobby, the shoe department of Dunham’s Department Store, and the Gmeiner Art & Cultural Center. Because Wellsboro’s Dickens of a Christmas Festival is more about having fun than about being historically accurate, the skits are chosen for their festive spirit
or for their familiarity.
Original works have appeared somewhat regularly due to the plethora of poetic talent lying in the vales and hollows just over the ridges ringing Wellsboro. Fortunately, and by odd coincidence, these poems find their way into the hands of Wellsboro resident Stephen Bickham, a retired philosophy professor and patron of the arts, who offers them to the Dickens Players.
One of these poets is the reclusive Fireball T. McInneny, 110-plus, who allegedly lives
in an undisclosed location somewhere just off Horse Thief Run Road. He is “Wellsboro’s Official Unacknowledged Poet Laureate,” as can easily be surmised after experiencing a Dickens Players performance of How Christmas Came to Wellsboro or Christmases of Yore: A Fond Remembrance or A Christmas Doggerel.
Another frequent contributor whose poems somehow end up in Bickham’s possession is Sir Percival Mandeville Hudpeth, “famous unknown Wellsboro poet.” (Wanting to give him some advantage in life, his mother named him “Sir.”) There has also been a recent flood of works by Maudlin McPurdy McPugh, Wellsboro’s most famous feminist, Buddhist, Communist Christmas poet, but her poems seem a bit strident for the Dickens crowd.
It should be noted that Fireball T. McInneny is not only a poet but also an accomplished playwright and dramaturge. However, he uses his poetic license regularly by including felicitous anachronisms and “alternative historical facts” in his Victorian plots. Among his major works performed by the Dickens Players are the Tiadaghton Snake Oil Show, Mr. Dickens Meets Mr. Nessmuk, Votes for Women and The Christmas That Very Nearly Almost Wasn’t. For 2010, the Dickens Players are planning to present a new Fireball play for the street, Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Thumptown Diamond. (Yes, Virginia, there is a
Facing Page: Beverly McKnight (left) & Lisa Caffo. Top: Wellsboro Women’s Chorus under the direction of Sue Cook and the Wellsboro Men’s Chorus under the direction of Jim Dunham. Middle left: Pete & Wanda Barbano’s dogs Keion, Kelly, and Tangie. Middle right: Children. Bottom left: The Town Choir Phil Waber. Bottom middle: Festive tuba. Bottom right: Dr & Mrs Davis.
Thumptown, and it’s located half way between Wellsboro and the Canyon.)
In the Tiadaghton Snake Oil Show Dr. Josiah Whizbang Crock, purveyor of Tiadaghton Universal Snake Oil Remedy and Elixir, rallies the crowd to buy his cure-all. He assures the throng pressing against his booth that this snake oil (a green bottle of which he holds in the air) has been specially brewed for Christmas. After we see the effects of the potent tonic on one of the volunteers and before the constable carries Dr. Crock off to the Tower of London, we get to meet several other characters, including an unlikely Indian chief (a CFO) from the Hairy Tuscarora Tribe.
In another, Charles Dickens lands in Wellsboro when the train taking him from Harrisburg to Buffalo gets sidetracked. Here, in a meeting which somehow escaped the history books, Dickens and George Washington Sears (Nessmuk), famed local outdoorsman and author, exchange views about city life and country life, resulting in some surprises for Mr. Dickens.
In The Christmas That Very Nearly Almost Wasn’t, the impoverished Winkelman family (which includes Tiny Tad Winkelman, played by a six-foot man) gets bad news just before Christmas: Father gets fired and turns to booze for consolation. Enter Carrie and Sherry Nation to lead the fight against demon rum. The play ends happily with Tiny Tad getting a nice present for Christmas: a pair of ice skates, size 12 ½.
There’s really no way to describe the Dickens Players concisely or accurately, as the names and faces are constantly changing. However, I advise visitors to Wellsboro on the first Saturday of each December to be on the lookout for spontaneous street theatre throughout the day.
What: Dickens of a Christmas
Where: Wellsboro’s Main Street and surrounding streets
When: December 4, 9 a.m. to 5:30 p.m.
Web Site: www.wellsboropa.com
Phone: (570) 724-1926
Larry Biddison, emeritus professor of literature at Mansfield University, is an occasional contributor to Mountain Home. He has coordinated the Dickens Players since 1983 and serves on the boards of two community performing arts organizations: Hamilton-Gibson Productions and the Community Concert Association.
Above: Members of the Wellsboro Women’s Chorus (left to right) Ann Serva, Pam Davis, Wilma Johnson, Ann Cole Miriam Dunham. Below: Larry Biddison
This Dickens of a Christmas schedule is brought to you by these area businesses
www.throughthelenswellsboro.coM
Welcome to Wellsboro
Have a dickens of a Christmas
2010 Schedule
For full schedule and more informations contact the Wellsboro Area Chamber of Commerce.
Friday, december 3
9:00 AM – 5:00 PM PRoFeSSIoNAL DICkeNS PoRTRAITuRe, INDIGo WIReLeSS
3:00 PM – 8:00 PM INDooR CRAFT ShoW, uNITeD MeThoDIST ChuRCh
4:30 PM – 7:30 PM DICkeNS oF A DINNeR, TRINITy LuTheRAN ChuRCh
4:00-7:00 PM houSe TouRS, STARTING AT TIoGA CouNTy hISToRICAL SoCIeTy, MAIN ST
7:00 PM – 9:00 PM VeSTA CRAFT ShoW & SALe, GMeINeR ART CeNTeR
7:30 PMhAMILToN GIBSoN ChoIRS: DICkeNS oF A CoNCeRT, ST. PeTeR’S CAThoLIC ChuRCh
Saturday, december 4
8:00 AM – 10:00 AMBReAkFAST W/ FATheR ChRISTMAS, TRINITy LuTheRAN ChuRCh
Walker Cake Company creates feasts for the eye and the tastebuds
By Cornelius o’Donnell
Photography by Charles Swain
Imagine setting out to design a coat of arms for an innovative bakery whose motto is Pure Imagination. As a focal point, how about the image of a chocolate cupcake, topped with creamy icing, and surmounted by a luscious cherry. Plop the cupcake in the middle of a pair of crisscrossed kitchen tools – a whisk and a spatula. As a finishing touch add a splat of strawberry or raspberry sauce in the background.
That’s what the Walker Cake Co.’s logo looks like. If this sounds mouthwatering, enter the bakery and peek through the glass cases filled with delights. If you love desserts you’ve found your Eden. Oh, and you can also buy the T-shirt emblazoned with that logo.
It all Started with a Peanut Butter Pie
Stephanie and Adrian Walker started making cakes in their home kitchen several years ago. They live in Wellsboro and both are Mansfield University graduates. She has a degree in business; Adrian’s is in social work. But they really enjoyed cooking, with baking their specialty. The Timeless Destination restaurant in Wellsboro began featuring Adrian’s Candy Bar Delight, a pie made with Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. Then there were the unique confections made for Wellsboro’s Dickens of a Christmas Festival.
Customers couldn’t get enough of these desserts, so in September 2008 the Walker Cake Co. was officially formed. In midOctober 2010 the retail outlet at 127 West Market Street in Corning opened with an extensive array of cookies, cupcakes, muffins, sweet breads, and jaw-dropping cakes.
“We offer a variety of gourmet cakes and desserts ranging from the classic flavors
that will remind you of a special time or place in life as well as new custom flavors waiting to make new memories.” That’s the Walkers’ credo.
The bakery walls are either painted a vibrant Tiffany-box blue, or are the exposed brick of the original building. (The floor paved with colorful hexagonal tiles is also original.)
Decorating those walls, as well as the napkin holders on the tables, are photos of some of the specialty cakes that Adrian has created.
His 2-D cakes are basically sculpted cakes that lie flat. They’re decorated with custom graphics and are usually made in two layers. These aren’t your everyday sheet cakes.
Check out the picture of the edible aircraft carrier, a good example of Adrian’s 3-D cakes. These are tall and can be quite complicated. He is a sculptor, combining large pieces of cake to create the images suggested by the customer. There are no commercial molds used.
One of the most striking is the Wedding Dress cake made to duplicate that particular bride’s outfit. These incredible edibles not only look good, but Adrian sees to it that
they taste good.
When you’re at the bakery ask for your copy of the Inside the Cakery guide. You’ll learn the difference between regular buttercream and cream cheese frosting (both of which they also use) and the elegant results gained by using the more complicated fondant, a sugar-based rolled icing for very special commissions, such as the 3-D cakes described above. As The Guide tells you: “it pleats; it folds; it does everything but cut the cake for you.” Then there is the modeling chocolate, “a super high-end way to cover your cake…tastes like a Tootsie Roll, and can be white or milk chocolate.”
An amazing example of Adrian’s creativity was the cake he designed to resemble the soil stratification uncovered by a big dig. This was made for a gas company and scaled to serve 300. That’s not only thinking big, but out of the (cake) box. Its inspiration may usually be out of sight, but “out of sight” perfectly describes this edible masterpiece.
The Food Network Connection
Totally involved in his work, Adrian has attended cake seminars in New York City, studying with cake creator extraordinaire
Michelle Bommarito. She is a regular competitor (and winner) on the Food Network Challenge series. And Walker cakes have been entered in New York and Atlantic City cake competitions.
But Wait, There’s More
There is breakfast available at Walker Cake from Tuesday through Sunday. Yup, flapjacks are back! And during the week lunch is also served. “Salads and wraps are our most popular items,” says Stephanie. Aficionados suggest trying the Soho Chicken Sandwich or the Tuscan Turkey and Bacon Wrap.
Their espresso bar has, in addition to the usual coffee, some pretty amazing specialty coffee drinks. This is “pure imagination” in a cup, and it is clearly evident in this lineup. How about a French Toast Latte (with maple spice and cinnamon). Or try a Night and Day Mocha made with white chocolate and coffee and topped with a drizzle of caramel.
Reminiscent of their first success – that Candy Bar Delight Pie – they offer coffees, all with an espresso base, in such candythemed flavors as Almond Joy, Milky Way, Rolo Mocha, Werther’s Latte, and a York
Peppermint Patty Mocha.
Now that we’ve whetted your appetite, you’ll find Walker Cake Co. online at www. walkercakeco.com. Check the site for their hours of operation.
And come spring, the Walkers plan to add an outdoor seating area adjacent to their store – the only green space of its kind available
on Market Street. Think of it as an “offthe-sidewalk” café. That’s a creative thought – but then so are the cakes, coffees, and other confections at the Walker Cake Co.
Chef, teacher, and author Cornelius O’Donnell lives in Corning, New York.
Finger Lakes Wine Review Be Lively and Celebrate!
By Holly Howell
Irecently took a tour of some wonderful wineries on Keuka Lake in the Finger Lakes region of New York State. I tasted the new vintages, discovered some new releases, and ultimately found the perfect new celebratory wine for my holiday season. It is called, appropriately, Celebrate!
This delicious white wine is produced at Keuka Spring Vineyards on the northeastern shore of Keuka Lake. From their tasting room on top of the hill, you’ll experience one of the most picturesque views in the region. And that is just what I was doing when I first spotted that beautiful blue bottle on the tasting bar. With a name like “Celebrate,” how can you not ask for a taste?
Expecting a sweeter style wine (as blue bottles often suggest), I was amazingly surprised at the clean, dry finish of this fruit-driven wine. A unique blend of Riesling (a European vinifera) and Vidal Blanc (a French-American Hybrid), Keuka Spring Celebrate is a crisp, bright mouthful of festive flavors that reminded me of apple pie with a side of peach cobbler. Although it is labeled as semi-dry, this wine could easily satisfy a crowd of dry to sweet wine drinkers, and everything in between.
Riesling has become well-known as the signature grape of our region. Vidal Blanc also makes a lovely dry white wine, but it tends to fly under the radar. Kudos to Keuka Spring for bringing these two perfectly suited partners together!
Now, to find the perfectly suited cheese to invite to the party…
Well, what grows together, goes together. And you just need look down the road a piece for a nice wedge of good Finger Lakes cheese. Heading east towards Cayuga Lake, you will run smack dab into the area’s most
exciting new addition—the Finger Lakes Cheese Trail. It is currently dotted with ten different “cheeseries” and a wide selection of artisanally produced farmstead treasures that are sure to wow your palate.
Lively Run is a quaint goat cheese dairy in Interlaken (between Seneca and Cayuga Lake), that specializes in chevre, which is goat’s milk cheese. They have developed a near cult following, yours truly included. From their soft chevre logs to their aged Cayuga Blue, these are some of the best around. The Lively Run Rose Peppercorn Chevre is a red speckled soft chevre that looks stunning on a holiday cheese plate. It has a rich, creamy texture with a nice hint of pepper spice that is easily tamed by a hint of sweetness in wine. And the tangy flavor of the cheese can balance the acidity of the wine, helping to bring out its inherent fruit flavors. It’s a winwin. And that gives us yet another reason
to… well, celebrate. Wishing you a very Happy Holiday!
Holly is a CSW (Certified Specialist of Wine) through the Society of Wine Educators and a CS (Certified Sommelier) through the Master Court of Sommeliers in England; Contact her at wineanddine@mountainhomemag.com.
H OME & REAL ESTATE
The Furniture-Maker Philosopher
Old world craftsmanship characterizes Tom Svec’s modernist furniture
By Matt Connor
Photography by Bill Crowell
For Tom Svec, a good piece of furniture isn’t just something to sit on while you’re watching TV. It’s a traveler through space and time, cast about on the flows and eddies of the cosmos, landing briefly in a Midwestern gallery, then for a time in a private home, and then perhaps in a consignment shop in an urban center before the tide comes in and it moves on again to a new home.
“You can toss a stick into the river and it may end up in the ocean or it may end up in a snag fifty yards away,” Svec says as
he leans on a crafts table inside his wood shop on Great Island, located a quarter mile outside the city of Lock Haven. “That concept of casting lines into the future is a big part of what keeps me doing what I do. You just don’t know where these things are going to go. You put something out there of your own manufacture, and you set it sailing in time.
“A big part what I’m trying to do here is caught up in the continuity of human endeavor,” he says. “I have hand tools from both of my grandfathers, from my father,
and from a variety other sources: chisels and planes that I use every day. And I’m really interested in that. That’s a lot of what the repurposing thing is all about: recognizing something that went before and then encapsulating it so it can go forward.”
Like most nights on Great Island, it is eerily quiet during this visit with Svec on his historic 1860 compound just yards from the Susquehanna. The smell of new wood is in the air and jazz pianist Keith Jarrett is on the stereo. Centuries ago, the land upon which Tom’s home and shop now stand was
a kind of crossroads for traveling Native Americans. Meetings were held between passing tribes here, and arrowheads and stone tools are still frequently found on this land today.
In this way, Tom sees his work with tools and chisels and sharpeners as one part of the continuum of this rich territory’s ongoing history.
Svec feels a deep connection with the past, though his own work can only be classified as modernist and minimal. Among his current projects is the restoration of a pair of doors from an historic train depot, which was slated for demolition last year but rescued by community activists and literally picked up and transported to a safe location in Lock Haven, where it will soon become a new home for the local arts council.
He has also taken an active role in the “repurposing” of the American elm trees that have been devastated by Dutch elm and elm yellows disease on the Penn State University campus. Recently as many as nine of the landmark trees on the University Park campus have had to be cut down to prevent further spread of the disease.
“One of the projects that I’m working on right now is a project to salvage pieces of the elm trees at Penn State,” he says. “That’s an idea that I started working toward four or five years ago, of trying to recover what is essentially waste material and repurpose it. It’s possible that if everything goes well that there will be tables and other pieces on the Penn State campus made from those trees. It’s also possible that there will be some rocking chairs made from elms from campus.
“That’s an idea that’s gaining a lot of popularity around the country: The use of materials that were considered waste for better purposes.”
Today Svec’s signature rocking chairs, coat racks and accessory tables can be found in galleries and fine furniture shops across the East Coast (though, he says, the recessionary economy has put a crimp in the gallery business lately), at price points ranging from a few hundred dollars to upwards of $4,000.
“My first rocking chair was designed for an arts festival in 1982, and that has been in continuous production ever since,” he says. “I think there are somewhere between 300 and 400 of them. But they are all over the place, including overseas and all over the
country. That is kind of my signature piece. It’s been really fun to follow where those have gone, and where people have taken them.
“There was a pair of those that left Philadelphia with Dick Vermeil back in the 1980s as a retirement gift when he quit coaching the Eagles. And I would get calls from his wife, Carol, as he reemerged from his retirement and continued to move around in these NFL cities over the years. Every time they moved them, she would get in touch with me and say they got a little scratch or a little thing.”
And then there was the Philadelphia couple whose home was completely flooded. Their Svec rocking chair floated around in their living room for several days, but the couple eventually sent it back to Svec and asked him to try to bring it back to its former glory.
“It came back up here and we were able to repair it and refurbish it and send it back,” he says with a smile. “There are stories and stories associated with that particular piece.”
But long before he started building rockers for sports celebs and flooded Philadelphians, Svec was just a young kid puttering around in the basement of his parents’ home in Ames, Iowa.
“It’s always been a hobby, ever since I was a teenager, even younger than that,” says Svec, 58. “We had a little hobby shop in the basement that I had access to. When I think back on it, I remember running equipment that probably was really dangerous! But my father didn’t seem to
mind and I sort of grew up without any apprehension about it.
“There is something about things like that, when you’re really little, that imbed themselves. I think it’s pretty durable over the long haul.”
Drafted into the Army during the Vietnam War, Svec returned to the
Keystone State after his discharge.
“My mother had been born in Williamsport and I had family there still. I was attending Lock Haven, and it was pretty apparent that the economic fortunes of Clinton County were imploding by the late ’70s.
“I had an idea to go into furniture design with no interest in opening a shop.
It was mostly just the idea of getting my degree and moving on and getting a job in industry someplace.”
But that wasn’t to be, either. Instead, he says, he “just started making stuff in my basement.”
Within a year he was entering craft shows, and by 1982 he was able to get into the Central Pennsylvania Festival of the Arts.
“That was the first show I ever did. And it just kept going from there. It was during a time when that whole craft revival was really in high gear. The venues were there. There was an awareness of it. The buying public was in tune to it. There was a whole network of shows and galleries that you could actually plug into. That’s basically how I got started.”
It took a few years, but eventually he was accepted into a show sponsored by the Philadelphia Art Museum, a show, he says, “that is very difficult to get into.” That same year he got into a similarly difficult show at the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C. “That was really the springboard that made it possible for me to set up a shop and actually take it seriously.”
Svec’s home on Great Island.
Those two prestige shows, Svec said, helped him develop a well-heeled clientele from around the country.
“There was an annual event for craftsmen that’s held in the Department of Commerce auditorium, the Mall. It’s a wonderful event and it plugged me in almost instantaneously with customers from all over, even abroad. That really made it possible for me to come back here and set up a little manufacturing operation, producing my own designs and going from there.
“That lasted probably into the mid’80s, and at one point I decided that I had established galleries that were willing to represent my work so I stopped doing the shows. I’ve pretty much stayed that course ever since.”
Running a shop profitably, he said, requires a solid manufacturing base: “I like the design end of it, so I try to maintain a certain percentage of manufacturing so I can sell my own work. That’s really where the fun is, to figure something out, work out the bugs and then set it up as small manufacturing. I try to keep that
as approximately half of what I do. Then the other half is custom work. They’re really two different things. I can’t really survive without one or the other. I can’t make money and stay in business if it’s all manufacturing or all custom.
“It’s kind of hand-in-glove.”
Today his product is sold in stores in Washington, D.C., Philadelphia, and Chicago, and he doesn’t plan to go too much farther afield than that right now.
“Much further than that and the shipping and other logistics are difficult,” he said. “It’s not just getting the product there, but you have to go there in person and schmooze, meet their customers and stuff.”
If he’s somewhat reluctant to travel long distances to “schmooze” up large-store buyers, Svec has noted that there appears to be a definite shift in how the average person makes decisions regarding big ticket furniture purchases.
“There’s a change, an evolution going on in the way people consume,” he said. “I get a lot of my buyers who want something really nice and they’re willing to pony up for maybe one piece at a time over the long
haul, rather than going to a big box store and buying a whole houseful of stuff at once. It’s interesting. It is expensive on many levels, but my customer base is very diverse. I have working class people who buy my stuff, not just doctors and lawyers.”
True enough, but it’s quite clear that
Svec could sell a lot more merchandise if he moved to a higher-income area. Indeed, his fortune might be made if he relocated to Seattle or Minneapolis or even Bucks County, Pennsylvania.
“I can make more money anywhere if I moved out of Clinton County, even if I only moved to Lycoming or Centre County,” he acknowledges. “But all you have to do is look around. This is a really nice place to live. It’s very inexpensive. I have a compound here, and it’s great. I could never have this in Centre County. I’m within three or four hours of half a dozen major metropolitan areas. I like living on the island. It’s the ultimate gated community: You’ve got a moat!
“The other reason I stayed in Central Pennsylvania is that this is where the lumber is,” he continues. “You can’t get this kind of stuff elsewhere. People around here are very, very generous. I get calls from people and they say, ‘We cut a walnut tree down in our yard.’ Or ‘We have some trees. Do you want them?’
“We’ve done a lot of lumbering. It’s interesting. I have people I can plug into
for sources of material that I wouldn’t be able to find if I were somewhere else.”
To what does he attribute his ongoing success? He half-jokingly claims that stubbornness is his “main attribute.”
“That’s where I’m coming from,” he says. “But I think you have to run something like this as a serious business. I go to work every morning at 8 a.m. and I’m here till 6 p.m. every night, and sometimes beyond. I don’t work whenever the muse moves me to work. I work every day and I work hard, and I try to work intelligently so that I have things that enable me to use time increments all day long productively.
“I think the one observation that I’ve had of many artists and craftspeople of considerable talent is just poor studio organization and maybe not really great work habits. Some of it is just luck on my part. Or maybe, to give myself credit, I’ve looked for situations that were sort of asymmetrical in terms of finding markets for my work.”
Unmarried with two adult children, Uri and Erica, Svec says his work still
Phone: (570) 748-3946
Web Site: www.tomsvecfurniture.com
gives him as much pleasure today as it did thirty years ago.
“No, actually, it’s more fun,” he said. “It’s a lot more fun. First of all, if you decide to do one of these things, these concept things—art or a skilled craft or whatever realistically you have to think for the long haul. The mentors of my business did not begin to attain any kind of notoriety until they were in their fifties. Last year one of the grand old men of woodworking, Sam Malouf, died and he was still working into his nineties. And one assumes he was still enjoying himself, otherwise there was no reason to do it.
“I’m really looking forward to another twenty-five or thirty years if I can squeak it out. There’s really creative and exciting stuff that I’m anticipating that’s still out there.”
M ARKET P LACE
Shop Around the Corner Rhythm of Life Story
They can inspire soldiers into action when played by an army corps, unnerve explorers when played by unseen Native warriors, and get even the most flat-footed night clubbers onto the dance floor when played with sufficient flair.
An old yuletide carol tells of baby Jesus smiling at the music played by a Little Drummer Boy during the world’s first Christmas. The Austin, Texas police force tell of a joyful noise made by hunky actor Matthew McConaughey when playing the bongo drums in October, 1999, naked and stoned.
Thus there seem to be as many different types of drums as there are moods they inspire and reasons to bang on ‘em.
Ah, but with so many drums to choose from, it’s difficult for the novice to tell the difference between a drum, a djembe and a conga. That’s why a drive to Toko Imports in Ithaca is such an eye-opener. It’s a nice little store located in the Dewitt Mall, which originally had been an old school building, and today all the former classrooms are little shops.
There is also a wide array of Victorian bowlers and top hats to choose from here— perfect, perhaps for the Wellsboro Dickens Christmas attendee searching for the perfect accessory—but drums are the bread and butter of this unique retailer.
As one enters the store, the owner, Tom Kozlowski, welcomes you and starts to talk about how it all began: “I opened Toko Imports in 1980. It started out with just a clothing store, a little boutique. It was fashionable and popular to have imports
and Photography by Nora Strupp
thirty years ago. I just used it. I did some importing, but I don’t travel.”
Okay, but what about that name? Toko is a word that sounds like it might have its origins in an African or Asian Pacific language.
And while that’s true enough, the first and most important reason is this: It’s a mashup of the owner’s first and last names.
“It’s my name: Tom Kozlowski,” he says, adding, “In Indonesia ‘toko’ means ‘store.’ And it’s funny but one day I used some ski wax and the name of it was ‘Toko,’ too.”
Let’s get down to the drums, though. Just how can you differentiate a hand drum, for example, from a djembe or a conga?
“Djembes are made of goat skin, congas are made of cow or steer skin. But the commercial drum is made of water buffalo skin. And the drum shell is made of rubber wood or mahogany wood,” he says.
While Tom is talking, some customers walk in and take a look around.
“My customers come from all over: Mansfield or northern Pennsylvania and central New York,” he says. “When people come from Canada and they’re on their way to New York City, they come through Ithaca or they meet here. Or the customers are people that went to school here. It’s a magnet, a big draw.”
Toko Imports owner Tom Kozlowski leant his name—and personality—to his unique store
His passion for drums comes from an interest in working with his hands: “I always liked to do handcrafting. I loved to do things by hand.” He even has a repair service for broken drums. “I taught myself how to repair drums, basically by taking them apart.”
What about learning how to play them? “I was taught by a music teacher and now I can teach the basics, but you don’t need really anything to learn how to play drums. For example with little children, you don’t have to tell them ‘Hold, blow, or sit this way.’ You don’t have to tell them anything. They just do it. With drums they have the freedom to express themselves.” And that also might be the reason why Tom picked the motto, “Life’s rhythms start early,” for his business card. To open up a store and be a self-sufficient business owner is never easy, but Tom seems to have found the secret of success.
“I work for my customers and suppliers. I don’t work for myself. That’s my philosophy. I still like my job even though I did it for thirty years. I don’t think about retirement. I’m not saying it’s easy. It’s been really difficult lately. But you have to be willing
to make sacrifices. You have to work today to still have a job tomorrow and next week. You need competition to be successful. You have to find something that you are better in than anybody else. Just go forward and do the best you can with what you have.”
His advice for business owners: “One thing about retail is that you have to be open to people, get along with them, work with them and have a lot of patience. You need a certain amount of skills. You can never make a judgment. It doesn’t matter what people look like. These are the basic, simple, fundamental things. The best ideas come from customers. When you know your products and customers, you know how to run a business.”
So whether your intent is to inspire armies, terrorize rain forest explorers or party with naked Hollywood heartthrobs, there’s bound to be a drum out there to suit your own individual needs.
And you’re sure to find it at Toko Imports.
Nora Strupp is a former Mountain Home intern based in Germany.
I always liked to do handcrafting. I loved to do things by hand.
Christmas program. When the Human Services building burnt down in 1992 and there was no place to house all of its programs, Reese realized that she would either have to stop her program or become a private enterprise.
Reese, her husband, and a close friend of theirs, J.R. Bach, found themselves sitting in the meat market building discussing whether Reese should rent it and set out on her own. Reese was completely against the idea. “I told J.R. and Gene,” explains Reese, “who were pushing me to do it, ‘No, absolutely not. I won’t have any government funding, and I’d have to ask for every penny. I will not ask people for money.’ J.R. said, ‘You don’t have to ask people for money. You just have to ask God for money.’ I stared at him and finally almost shouted, ‘I don’t have that kind of faith!’ ‘Oh yes, you do,’ J.R. said. ‘You really do,’ my husband said. And that was that. And here stands Christmas House eighteen years later.”
It was when she moved into the meat
market that Christmas House got its name. People would call Human Services, asking for the lady who helped with Christmas dinners and gifts, and the people at Human Services would say, “Oh, you mean Alyce. She’s down at her Christmas House.”
With Christmas House’s years of success, it would be easy now for Reese to get grants, but she won’t. “If I got grants,” she says, “it would limit what people I could help and how I could help them. Our slogan is ‘Heart Response,’ a term my husband came up with years ago. It means we respond from the heart. And we want to be able to do that with everybody.”
So, where does the money come from?
Ed and Jean Pruitt, former residents of Potter County, started paying the rent on the meat market building in 1992, Christmas House’s first year, and, even though they now live in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, they still pay it. Also, since 1992, the Methodist Church in Shinglehouse, Pennsylvania ,has a fundraiser every year that pays for Christmas House’s utilities. Stores like Dollar General and The Gallery in
Coudersport donate many things for all of the people Christmas House helps. Churches, clubs, and organizations do their part. For example, three motorcycle clubs donate funds and help deliver Christmas presents every year. “You can hear their music from a mile away when they come,” Reese says, smiling, “but I am very grateful for their help.”
The rest of the money comes from individuals. “Many times I’ll get checks for fifty or a hundred dollars from people I’ve never heard of,” says Reese. “People will just tell other people about us, and they want to help.” She likes to tell the story of the time when Christmas House was just starting out, and they ran out of money in June. “The Methodist Church in Shinglehouse had raised money for our utilities, but we didn’t have enough that year to pay for them yearround. So, I said to my volunteers, ‘Let’s just close until October when Christmas season gears up again.’ That day, a man I had never met came in and said, ‘You guys are going to be so mad at me. I’ve been carrying around a check for you since January, but I either forget it when I’m in town or you guys
aren’t open when I have it.’” Reese smiles. “The check was for three hundred dollars. What I needed to pay for the utilities to keep us open was two hundred and eightyseven dollars.”
Soon after Christmas House got its new name and location, Heimel, the eighty-sevenyear-old lady who accompanied Reese to help the family with the fire on Christmas Eve two years ago, became the second original elf. She and Reese went to high school together, but they didn’t see each other again for over thirty years until Heimel heard of Christmas House and called to see if she could help. “Barb’s great,” says Reese with sisterly affection. “She’ll run any errand I need her to run, and she’ll usually do it on her bicycle. She’s always wheeling around like a kid.”
The third original elf, Monica Porter, has the best excuse of anybody not to work at all, yet she is one of Reese’s most efficient volunteers. In 1992, she had a devastating stroke. She has trouble talking, and has to pantomime and draw to help people understand what she is saying. Walking is difficult for her, and she only has the use of one hand. When she started volunteering at Christmas House in
1993, Reese wasn’t sure what she could have her do, but Porter insisted that she wanted to help. Finally Porter’s husband, Herb, made a special table, so that Porter could cut bedding, and that’s what she did for a long time.
“Poor Monica,” Reese says, “got so sick
of cutting bedding, so she tried wrapping presents. We couldn’t believe it, but she was able to do it with one hand, and she’s really good at it. Now she comes in once a week, every week, and wraps thousands of presents a year.”
Samatha Cossman, (left) talks to one of the volunteers, Judy Mottershead.
Sometimes people who have been helped by Christmas House come back to volunteer, so they can give back to the House and can help others who are in the exact position they were in at one time. Charlene Smith is one of these people.
Smith’s house burnt down in 2002. She had just bought it; she had a floor-to-ceiling crystal collection worth thousands of dollars, and she didn’t have any insurance yet. “We lost everything,” Smith says, referring to herself, her husband, and her two sons, who were teenagers at the time. “We had game systems, four-wheelers, I bought most of my stuff from Macy’s, we had tons of money, and then, just like that, it was all gone.” What ensued were years of more bad luck, including her oldest son and husband almost dying, health issues with her younger son, her mother passing away, and having to work three jobs, which has led to her needing both hips replaced this January.
Yet when Smith is asked whether she wishes she could go back to the day of the fire and keep it from happening, she says emphatically, “No way. You know, you always wonder why? Why did this happen to me? But then I think, if it hadn’t happened, I never would have met Alyce.”
From the time Reese entered her life shortly after the fire until today, Smith says, “She has been my strength. She’s been there the whole time. I’m a different person now. None of my furniture matches, and I don’t think I have more than two cups that are the same. The fire, meeting Alyce, and being helped by Christmas House taught me how little material things matter. I love my house and my life so much more now.”
People who have been helped in the past aren’t the only ones who come back to help at Christmas House. Heimel’s daughter, Jane, now volunteers.
“When I was younger,” says Jane, “I didn’t understand as much how important Christmas House is to people and how it has changed people’s lives. But I volunteered anyway. Then one day, it was Christmastime and everyone was feeling the pressure and feeling frantic. We sat down to eat a meal together here,” she says, pointing to the back of the meat market building, “and Alyce said a prayer before we ate.” Jane smiles. “During the prayer, Alyce asked, ‘God, give us tender hearts.’ I don’t know why, but at that moment I got it, I got the reason we were all there and why my mother had spent so many years helping. It’s about tender hearts.”
It has been twenty-six years since Reese started the resource center that is now Christmas House. They have put Christmas meals on families’ tables and presents under their trees all that time.
They have been there for countless people at the horrible moment when they realize their homes and belongings are gone and irretrievable.
They have clothed children and provided them with thousands of school shoes. And they’ve kept people from having their heat and light shut off in the middle of several winters.
Christmas House is truly a house of miracles. And Mrs. Claus? Well, she’s a lady of miracles, isn’t she?
Christmas House
One Water Street, Coudersport, PA 16915 (814) 274-0825
