Ken Follett WHITEOUT on audio in the kitchen - Letter to Ed on Sale of Willow Grove Day Camp

Got three audio books from the libe. Thankfully the first one I'm listening to - Ken Follett's WHITEOUT is very good and easy to understand.

Sometimes these spy thrillers are difficult for me to understand.

Told Scott when he came over to connect my Holiday Lights - the candy canes.

Just ordered the same book for him on Amazon.com.  Was having trouble with my order so I called Amazon and a nice man - Mike - from Uruguay - helped me. I gave him a rave review and told him I know someone from Uruguay.

Terry P and her family.

Asked him if he'd ever heard of Rhodesia candy or Tivo and he said no.

I solved the problem about what to do about RHODESIA.

I ate it!

Far less sweeter than American candy.

My sugar's a little high so am gonna go upstairs to ride Copper, a horse that little Sarah rode at Willow Grove Day Camp.

The Intelligencer published my Letter to the Ed about the camp.

Hold on! Gotta make anudder cuppa Pumpkin Spice Coffee that Coach Iris sent me. Really good! And I will not be up all night.

Every letter to the editor was fascinating. This is the Weds, November 30, 2016 issue.

FOND MEMORIES OF WILLOW GROVE DAY CAMP

In these turbulent times, let's praise Willow Grove Day Camp, 3400 Davisville Road, which has been sold and will become a YMCA. I worked there one summer for the dynamic "Uncle Howie" (Harold Zeitz). The spirit of training and competition rode large across the vast acres of land, which formerly house the Lichtenstein Family Dairy Restaurant and summer cabins.

Heat-weary families from Philadelphia would take the trolley down to eat kosher food and stay in the cabins.

How I'll miss those cheerful summer days, the colorful cabins, outdoor pools, pistol range and outdoor riding ring. Two years ago I revisited the camp for a wonderful reunion with Uncle Howie and his wife Gloria. He was the same lovable guy I remembered, a former athletic director at an area high school.

As the Bible verse says, "To everything there is a season."

Ruth Z Deming
Willow Grove

Read my post on visiting Uncle Howie here.

Tonite's goal is to clean up the messy floor.  It's filled with Holiday Cards.

As you know, I pay nuffin for my cards, they're all free from nonprofits who hope for a hefty donation.

For this veteran's card, simply snip off the word Veteran and send it as a postcard. I did that for Rem, the postmaster of the Roslyn post office.

Bye now.

My friend Walter Straus used to end his phone calls that way.

Hold on. While biking, I watched Xmas Without China.

Very disturbing. But you know what? No one's gonna give a good goddamn.

We make Watermelon Cucumber Gazpacho and I Visit Uncle Howie and Gloria at Willow Grove Day Camp

I brought most of the ingredients to Mom's to make Watermelon Cucumber Gazpacho ala Suzi Kaitz who the Greenwolds - Ruth Donna and Ellen - visited last Thursday.

It was delicious! Ellen pulverized it in her million-dollar Vitamix blender.

Gazpacho is a raw vegetable soup usually tomato-based that originated in Andalusia Spain.

In Ocean City, NJ, I bought Mom n Ellen fudge from Shriver's Fudge Shop. Also bought Jon Katz and Suzi some. They'll be at their vacation home in Upper Black Eddy PA till the end of the week.

Although I adore fudge, I had not a single piece since I don't want my toes amputated due to diabetes.

   Bought one piece of chocolate-covered bacon - $3.75 - and took one delicious bite. Photo from the Internet.

Could not believe my chocoholic-mother didn't like it. She wanted me to take it home.

No way!  Fortunately Ellen liked it.

*

On the way home from Mom's down Davisville Road I got up my nerve - and yes, it did take nerve - to drive into the Willow Grove Day Camp and see if Uncle Howie was there.

First, I stopped at the Security Gate.



Andrea was very nice and phoned ahead.

I wore a badge with the name AUDREY on it, I mean Ruth.

Parked and walked, with quickening heart, up to the blue office.

The first person I saw was Gloria Zeitz.

Gloria works as a receptionist and gal Friday. When I knew her she had blond hair, wore high heels and short shorts. Still a beautiful woman, she and Howie - Harold Zeitz - live in Warwick, winter in Florida and run the camp with their son.

Harold Zeitz, aka Uncle Howie, age 83. What a great personality, as befits a camp owner, former teacher and athletic director.

I was his secretary for one season. It was important I get a job b/c my BF Chris Ray had just broken up with me and I was heartbroken.

Sarah went to the camp for free. They didn't have space for Dan, so he went across the street to the Y camp held at Carson-Simpson Farm.

I was 37 at the time. This was on the cusp of my manic-psychotic break which happened the next February. We still lived in the apartments.

 The camp is now in its 60th season! I wrote an article for the Intelligencer when the season was over. All I remember saying was Zeitz had muscled calves and a clarion voice. He told me after paying everyone, he earned $50,000.

Howie wanted to hear about my life. I told him and Gloria about my kidney transplant three years ago. He loves a good story.

Other former campers were also stopping in. Howie gave them all big hugs and wanted to know all about them.

I told him Sarah loved horseback riding and riflery. He's very disappointed that the latter has been discontinued. Parents probly got upset. The biggest problem about camp: parents.

I remember how well Howie handled the problem parents. Talked to them on the phone or in person.

I learned to use a mimeograph machine there and printed out the day's events for the counselors.

Also did the Yearbook. Took great pride in that. Early training for the Compass magazine. 

Howie mentioned that after work he often stops at the Willow Grove Giant Coffeeshop. In fact, he ordered coffee today from Kiana. I told him to try hazelnut. He said he hasn't branched out into flavors yet but might try it.

 This tall bulwark is a climbing device. We saw this in Ocean City. Quelle fun!!!

 One of the bunks.

The site of Willow Grove Day Camp was on land owned by the former Lichtenstein Furriers who had bungalows for families escaping the heat of hot Philadelphia. This is all from my article in the Intelligencer.

When I said goodbye to security guard Andrea I asked if Bill Kemp still worked there. Yes, she said. I caught a glimpse of him from my car. That's his truck. He guards the property after hours.

*

As an adult, I have never planted seeds, as does my sister Ellen. Couldn't remember what I planted where, but look what's come up.....

 cosmos

 milkweed flower, not from seed, to attract the monarchs come fall

Zinnia.

The Surprise of a New Day

Can someone tell me why Memorial Day weekend is this weekend and not at the end of May? I am simply not ready to celebrate. Am still shaking off the long cold winter and lack of color. One of my red poppies came up yesterday. I was walking home from Scott's next door and saw this huge red dot in the middle of my garden. I had no idea what it was. I actually thought it was one of those shiny red stop signs on the back of a bike!

It's like I have to reinvent myself every morning. Does this ever happen to you? It's as if I've been so busy in the middle of the night, ostensibly sleeping, but maybe my spirit, unbeknownst to me, travels the cosmos, tiptoeing across the moon and the stars, inhaling fragrances unknown to us earthly creatures.

Woke up early so I could check online to see how my Guest Column looked in the Intelligencer. Unfortunately, they listed contents of the entire paper online except for the Guest Column so I'm now in negotiations to get it listed.

A Letter to the Editor appeared on the page next to mine. It was written by my former boss when I worked at a local day camp. I submitted a comment to his Letter. You can read it here.

I'd written a long newspaper article about him and his day camp - Willow Grove Day Camp - on Davisville Road for one of the local papers, either the Intell or the Public Spirit. I traced the history of Willow Grove and the ground the camp was built upon, the former Lichtenstein Family Dairy Restaurant and Summer Cabins for the heat-weary families from Philadelphia who trolleyed down to the farm.

What a great experience that was, writing the story and getting paid $27.50 for it.

Willow Grove Day Camp has been sold - Death of Robin Williams - Poem: Will I Be Late?

cam

While I was shopping at Giant with boot, I met Bill K once again. He's the groundskeeper at Willow Grove Day Camp and lives there for free.

Bill is not to be confused with the groundskeeper in Lady Chatterly's Lover.

He told me the camp was sold to the YMCA.

Did you know there's a catchy song about the YMCA?

Bill thinks he'll have a job with the Y. Altho he's 69, he's not about to retire.

He and his wife will live at Heritage Creek which is where (Uncle) Howie and Gloria live.

"Is that where Tulip Lane is?" I asked.

Yes, said Bill. It's the main street.

That's where the co-chair of my MGPGP dept lives with his wife Arlene, who has a teeny tiny Argentinian voice. They have all sorts of primitive masks and sculptures there. He also has some sort of memento from Irv Yalom, father of group psychotherapy.




WILL I BE LATE?

I've a date this morning
with my friends
Joe, Josh, John and
the Girls, but in
bed this morning when
the mind goes wild
I thought of a faster
way to reach them.

Down Byberry I will go
past Mom's and the
Fleishers, my eyes
searching for Pine.

Will my eyes blur with
anxiety, my heart romp
all over my chest?

Only one way to find out.'s
Heigh-ho Silver.

***
I was 10 minutes early. Ran my Now and Then Group. As I've said, I make them use their imagination, reflect on things, and do a little teaching. Told them about Hurricane Matthew which is in the Caribbean - where's the Caribbean - where it's landed - track it here.

Probly b/c I'm a therapist and know how to gauge people, we talked a lot about death today. It simply came up and people wanted to talk about it, esp. "Kate" who lost a daughter to cancer - I still can't believe it, she said, and her husband to Parkinson's.

I said Very slow progress is being made against Park's and mentioned Michael J Fox and his foundation. Everyone agreed he's probly not doing well.

Let's see.

Health and activism

Fox started displaying symptoms of early-onset Parkinson's disease in 1991 while shooting the movie Doc Hollywood, although he was not properly diagnosed until the next year.^[33] After his diagnosis, Fox began drinking more heavily than in the past; however, he sought help and stopped drinking altogether.^[50] In 1998, he decided to go public with his condition, and since then he has been a strong advocate of Parkinson's disease research.^[6] His foundation, The Michael J. Fox Foundation, was created to help advance every promising research path to curing Parkinson's disease, including embryonic stem cell studies.^[6]
Fox manages the symptoms of his Parkinson's disease with the drug carbidopa/levodopa,^[51] and he also had a thalamotomy in 1998.<sup>[52]


.Carly and I visited Solebury Orchards a couple of years ago.</sup>

Also at the Giant I met Carly and Charlie Brown. Hadn't seen Carlana in ages. Just emailed our writing group to say I saw her.

She's running a creative arts group at Gloria Dei and loves it.

Told her I love my PT job at Symphony Manor, where I went today.

Met Carly Brown and husband Charlie while shopping. I was talking to Larry.

Larry, I asked. What's the best kind of soup of buy, I asked.

Italian meal ball is dull, he said. Your best bet is the corn chowder.

Larry used to work as a repairer of musical instruments! The owner sold the place, tho he didn't have to, said Larry, so he got this job.

I told him to check out DeLuca's Instruments in Hatboro. Maybe they'd have work for him.

The wife of the late Robin Williams made public his losing battle with Lewy Body Dementia. Read about it here. 

A terrible disease. No wonder he killed himself.

New writing teacher - Uncle Howie - Helene - Night visitors

Say hello to author Richard Bank, my new writing coach. We met at Weinrich's Bakery Coffeeshop this morning.

I brot in a couple things for him to look at. The query letter for my novel. Plus the first chapter of my novel, whose name I am not revealing.

He took one look at the query letter and said, An agent will never read the whole letter. The first sentence isn't good enough.

I began by saying, "May I submit my novel...."

Then he read the first sentence of my novel.

I waited for him to reject it.

"All I needed was to read the first sentence and I knew you could write."

Whew! When I write my 1.5 page query letter, he said to mention my support group, my credentials, and the dollar amount of my Leeway Grant Award to show them I'm not just some nut.

Well, I am a nut, a nice one though, demonstrated by when we got up and left.

I collected all the extra napkins at our table and told Richard there are rules for "stealing napkins." You're entitled to all the napkins on your table but you can't just go and help yourself to more before you leave.

I keep them in my glove compartment to use as hankies or stationery.

"That's like something Larry David would do," said Rich.

Read a newspaper article at Mom's house that "Uncle Howie" Zeitz still works at Willow Grove Day Camp, as does his once high-heeled wife Gloria. His son, tho, really runs the place.

Sign on Davisville Road.

I was his sec'y about 17 years ago. It was a job that saved me cuz Chris Ray had just broken up w/me, one of the great loves of my life. Chris died a decade or so ago, but, by his website you'd think he was still alive.

When I knocked on the door, Linda answered and let me in. I wrote Howie a note. I had missed him by five minutes.

I asked if "Uncle Marv" was still involved.

Yes, he ran a sister camp in New Jersey.

It was one of my favorite jobs. I learned to use a mimeograph machine for daily announcements distributed to the staff and counselors.

Parents were very fussy but Howie had a terrific way of handling them when they complained.

More camp pix:

Everything a kid desires, including playing on a real fire truck. Can't see it.

If you click twice, I think you can see this beautiful horse. Horseback riding. How I'd love to go for a ride now. Giddeeyup, Copper, let's ride fast around the grounds.

The campers' cabins used to be part of the throngs that came out to Willow Grove from hot Philadelphia, taking the trolley down, and then visiting Willow Grove Park.

I interviewed Uncle Howie at the end of the camping season and wrote a wonderful article for one of the local papers. All I remember is that I said he had big leg muscles and a clarion voice. I dunno where I got that word from, clarion, but unexpected things come out when you write.

Today, Uncle Howie is 80 YEARS OLD!!!

My dear friends below - Helene and Aaron - are no spring chickens.

Got there just in time to watch em eat dinner.

They had a helper, Liz, a lovely young woman who's a vegetarian.

I told them my writing coach, Rich Bank, is also a vegetarian. He doesn't eat anything that has a mother.

When it was time to go, I asked Helene to do a "Sam Maitin." That means walk me to the car. I'd done an article on Sam when I worked for Art Matters.

Tonite I got two phone calls from members of New Directions who had gone to Abington Prez thinking there was a meeting tonite, but there wasn't.

I'd canceled the third Tuesday meeting of the month, unbeknownst to Laura and Barbara.

I invited them both over here.

We found Barb a new psychiatrist that takes her Cigna insurance. Laura showed us pictures of her handsome new boyfriend Mark on her phone. Silly girls that we are, we went on his website and sent him an email.

Barbara asked Laura if Mark had an unmarried father for herself?

Barb wants to meet a guy. And why shouldn't she?

She's a few years older than me. Eureka! I remembered one of our phone greeters - Nick - who's about her age.

I got Nick on the phone - why waste time? - and the two of em are gonna get together.

Wouldn't that be great if it works out?

Barbara's Review of my story Tomatoes and Tattoos

 I enjoyed reading this. I love the descriptions of the different people and it’s like they come alive. You sure have some interesting neighbors. Thank you for sharing.🎈🎈🎈🎈🎈🎈🎈🎈🎈

Thank you Barbara!

Lemme tell you why I'm awake at 2 am. First of all, I've been emailing Rem.

Second, I was in bed worrying about Beatriz. Is she on her last legs? 

Third, a car or vehicle drove by at 1:45 am making the collage on my useless ceiling fan light up.

Yes, a light show like we used to have with various lights at the Now and Then Shop, the family store where we got along poorly. 

Did I tell you my sister Ellen gave me loads of letters from my daughter Sarah? She had sent them to Gram when she was at Brown University and also when she was at camp, which I don't remember.

Well, I DO remember Willow Grove Day Camp. 

Here it is. 

The Day Camp is gone. Razed. Few people go to camps anymore.

It's been replaced by a YMCA. 

Absolutely beautiful and with everything for everyone.

Swimming pool.

If you click the photos may enlarge.

BEDTIME FOR MOI !!!

Bonefish Grill - Poems: The New Video-Streamed Apple Enhances Reality - Anybody Up There? - Foxhall Poems

Let's start off with a nice photo or two.

 In the bulrushes.

Today's poem. Thing is, I can't listen to Bartok at the same time I'm blogging.

THE NEW VIDEO-STREAMED APPLE
ENHANCES REALITY

If things go better with Coke
and Maxwell House Coffee is
good to the very last drop,
what will the new Apple
i-Phone do to enhance
my life?

Will the changes be invisible?
A chocolate croissant and
hot tea at the breakfast table?

Bartok's String Quartet
Number Five, dedicated to
Mrs. Sprague-Coolidge,
aerating through the
heating ducts?

I have resurrected
Sprague-Coolidge's name.
She is knocking at my
front door, having stepped
from a hearse from Kirk
and Nice Funeral home.

She flees when I open
the door. I run after her
ripping off a bouquet
of black-eyed susans
and thrusting them
in her hands.

Our eyes never meet.
Was she really there?
And am I?


ANYBODY UP THERE?

Ah, my warm 'leopard' blouse
with the zipper in back
My velveteen jacket with
Kleenex still in the pockets
My date is here early
We climb into his
Pepperidge Farm White bread car

Driving down the street
in the twilight hour
I fuss with the seat belt
till I get it on
Meantime it growls at me

Bonefish Grill, one of our
favorites. I sit across from
him and think, This man is
handsome. He's smart and
has a taste for salmon and
for me.

We hug goodbye when he drops
me off next door. If the
night were clear, he'd bring
his telescope out on the
porch and he'd search for
his dog Spanky light years
away.

***

I told him I might have to write him a poem.

BUILDING 20

Eat fruits and vegetables
read the sign in his
cheerful pink examining
room

Knock knock knock
Ah, he's thoughtful
and walked smartly
in, tall, hair graying
at the temples,
those comfy shoes
I remembered, this
time with argyle socks

He could have been a movie star
a relief pitcher, a partner
of Frank Gehry, or the lead
conductor of the Philadelphia
Orchestra, his 9-year-old son,
a prodigy, playing the slide
trombone, the 6-year-old
grinning next to his mom.

Instead, he's Dr Foxhall!

***

James also wanted to know what's going on on Davisville Road? He rounds the bend to visit healing folks at Powerback. I wrote Sam V, my commissioner who wrote back - that good man! - that Willow Grove Day Camp is zoned recreational - it will be a YMCA and will open around the end of 2018 or the beginning of 2019.

  I visited the camp several years ago, when I was passing by. I was Uncle Howie's secretary. View blog post here. 

Those WERE the Days!

Coupla things: Weird Al Yankovic - Wiki Vandalized - January 1946 Reader's Digest - Cinquain for Mailman Ken

An article in the Times about Weird Al Yankovic led me to watch his amazing video on YouTube, a parody of Lady Gaga.

As a courtesy, Al always shares his parodies with the original person. Michael Jackson loved his parody, called "Eat It," insteada "Beat It."

And Kurt Cobain and the rest of Nirvana laffed hysterically over his  parody on "Teen Spirit," called "Smells Like Nirvana."

No one can understand what the lyrics mean.

Can 17 million laughers be wrong? Here's Weird Al's parody on Lady Gaga.

My question about this video - and perhaps yours too - is how did he strap down his crown jewels?

The Wiki entry on Weird Al is extremely long. I wanted to hear how he was raised and found this tragic entry about his parents:

On April 9, 2004, Yankovic's parents were found dead in their Fallbrook, California, home, apparently the victims of accidental carbon monoxide poisoning from their fireplace that had been recently lit. The flue was closed, which trapped the carbon monoxide gas inside the house, suffocating them.

*
Was trying to locate the Yearbook I did when I was Uncle Howie's secretary at Willow Grove Day Camp. Couldn't find it but did locate some amazing forgotten treasures, including....

During WW2, my dad was stationed at Camp Lejeune, NC, and he had this 15-cent copy of Reader's Digest.

It's packed with fascinating stories, including the first one "Epic of the Arctic," condensed from the now-defunct True magazine. In 1881, Officer Greely of the Army brought his ill-fated crew of 23 men to study the weather at Ellesmere Island, 600 miles from the Pole.  Many of them froze to death.

 I turned to the Digest's famous condensed book section. Though I didn't have a chance to read "The Anatomy of Peace," I looked up the author on Wikipedia.

Sure enough, the late Emery Reeves was listed.

However, there was an error on the dates of his birth and death. I wrote Wikipedia who wanted me to fix it myself- c'mon! - and I got this note from them:

Dear Ruth Deming,

The article has been restored to a previous version to remove the vandalism. If you're still seeing the issue, please try to purge your browser's cache: , or the server's cache: .

Thank you very much for bringing this to our attention.

Yours sincerely,
Kosten Frosch

 When I was in sixth grade, the smartest boy in the class, Steve Green, found an error in the World Book. Steve, where are you now?

Founded by Dewitt Wallace and his wife, Lila, the first issue was published in 1922, the same year my mom was born.

Read about WHY Wallace founded the mag.

The Wallaces were staunch Republicans and anti-communists. I should hope so! He donated lots of money to Richard Nixon, who also wrote articles, but no poems, for the Digest. 

Listed on the above inside cover is Suggested Reading.

Ever heard of any of these books?

The Black Rose by Thomas B Costain. Historical fiction. Actually my dad had a few books by Costain. 

 Cass Timberlane by Nobelist Sinclair Lewis. I love his writing but never read it. I'll put it on my booklist and read it when I'm 105. Lewis predicted when he won the Nobel Prize he'd never write a great book again. He was right.

The White Tower by James Ramsay Ullman. Five men and a woman against an unconquered mountain. Hint: the woman was not RZD.Made into a film. Am sure it's not on Netflix.

So Well Remembered by James Hilton. The British writer Hilton, who died at 54 from liver cancer, has written loads of novels including Lost Horizon and Goodbye Mr Chips. Made into wonderful movies.

Three O'Clock Dinner by Josephine Pinckney.  

A Lion in the Streets by Adria L Langley about "the rise and fall of an American Fuhrer." Hmm, sounds a bit like Huey Long. Guess what! It is based on Huey Long. 

The Digest used the term Fuhrer b/c WW Two had just ended and I was all of one month old. Born with two fine kidneys.

The Peacock Sheds His Tail by - who? - oh, Alice Tisdale Hobart. 
Alice led a very exciting life.

*



Yesterday when I was running after the Mailman to give him a $50 check from the CitiCards scavengers, he was his usual sarcastic complaining self.

I told him I'd write him a poem.

Don't write me a poem, he said.

I wrote it on New Directions stationery, saying "As promised, here's a poem about you."

I did one of my Cinquins I learned from poetess Lynn Levin.

MAILMAN KEN

These legs
ache for rest.
To sit on the front porch
sip my beer, wave to my neighbors,
and smile.

My email to the Pope

I titled my email Christmas Request to Holy Father Pope Benedict XII: (be sure to read His comment at the end)

Today, Holy Father, is Christmas Day here in America and all across the world.

I was born on Christmas Day in Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, where my father, born in 1921, was serving in the Marine Corps to help destroy the Nazis who wished to rule the world. You well know their horror since you were forced to become a member of the Hitler Youth and your own beloved cousin with Down syndrome was forcibly sent to a death camp for extermination.

Six million of my people were also exterminated for the crime of being Jewish. This includes dozens of my family members residing in our homeland of Hungary.

I ask you to please consider the requests of our Jewish leaders when you think about making Pope Pius XII a saint. Our leaders are wise beyond measure and deserve your highest consideration. We believe that Pius, with his enormous influence, did not do enough to save the Jews and other ethnic minorities and people with disabilities.

In the name of peace on earth for all humankind, I am,

Ruth Z. Deming
204 Cowbell Road
Willow Grove, PA 19090
USA
215 659 2142

US Marine Corps Band comes to Willow Grove PA

Marine Corps Corporal Judes Grandoit who served 7 months in Afghanistan.

At 7 pm I drove over to Upper Moreland High School, 5 minutes away from home, to listen to the Marine Corps Band.

I had the good fortune to sit near some young Marines whose job it is to transport the band and its equipment from their headquarters in Washington, DC, to various ceremonies along the eastern seaboard.

If you click on the above link you can see their schedule plus our own Willow Grove location in the football stadium of our high school.

The Drum and Bugle Corps played Pirates in the Caribbean and other tunes. The announcer dedicated the song to the Wounded Warriors. CLICK once or twice to enlarge.
A school bus dropped off a busload of people. By this time, the program was half over. We missed the high school's jazz band.
This is the Silent Drill Team. They will follow the Drummer and Bugle Corps.

Here's one of three buses that drove in from headquarters at 8th and I Streets in DC.

These good-looking Marines were sitting near me, so I moved closer....and closer!
Voila, they were friendly.

The first guy I talked to, with the USMC tattoo, was the youngest of the bunch, having enlisted only 4 months ago. He was the only one who hadn't seen combat.

All the others had been to Iraq. One man had been in Afghanistan.

Meet Corporal Judes Grandoit (say it the French way) from Brooklyn who served in Afghanistan.

Ya wanna know where I came from before Brooklyn? he asked me.

Sure, I answered.

Haiti! he said. His family is doing well, there, despite all the upheavals. "They've adapted," he said.

This man was so unusual. To him, everything is possible, everything attainable. A force as bright as the sun.

We talked for many meaningful minutes. I'm sure I didn't make his day, but he sure made mine and my millions of followers on the blog. Hold your hands up if you're there.

Hey, can anyone read me?

Cpl Grandoit is 31. Before he joined the Marines three years ago he was a private contractor in Brooklyn, fixing homes. He has family in Philadelphia, including a fiancee.

Couldn't she join you here? I asked.

Oh no, he said. She's gotta work.

Judes trained at Parris Island in South Carolina. It was tough, he said.

"My dad did too," I said. "I was born in Camp Lejeune."

His buddies hail from Virginia and South Carolina.

Judes served 7 months in northern Afghanistan. He said he knows for sure that they helped the Afghani people.

The kids, he said, visited the Marines in their barracks, which are called "fobs." They were friendly and trusted the Marines, who, in turn, taught them various skills and helped them to read.

The kids, said Judes, taught me about farming.

The Marines gave the kids toys and candy.

I asked what I and other Americans can do to help these children.

Judes suggested we contact our local USMC and donate educational materials like pens and pencils, not just the usual blankets and clothes.

Spitshine shoes

Judes guessed there were about 800 people in the stadium. We sat in stands that were not crowded, but across the field almost all the seats were taken on this perfect spring night with the temperature hovering around 70 degrees.

Dyou play an instrument, I asked Judes.

I just play steering wheel and pedal, he smiled, referring to his job as bus driver.

His enlistment is up next month and he will re-enlist.

You've got it made, I said, as long as you don't, ya know, get killed. None of his buddies were injured or wounded in Afghanistan, but, then, the corporal demurred, and said he really couldn't talk about everything that happened in Afghanistan.

The Silent Drill platoon marched onstage with their M1 rifles and fixed bayonets.

Judes listened to Gospel Music in Afghanistan. He spoke to his girlfriend twice during his deployment.

I asked him how he spent his spare time in his barracks.

There was no free time, he said. We were always preparing for our next mission.

I asked what time it was, saying I had to drive my boyfriend to the train station. He works at SEPTA, I said.

Judes, having a Philly girlfriend, had ridden the El, which Scott repairs.

His friends looked at their Blackberries and gave the time in military numbers.

Judes translated it.

We shook hands goodbye. Was gonna take the photo myself but Judes asked the youngest Marine.



One last photo of these beautiful buses.

As I was leaving, Action News was pulling in.

Kudos to the Fire Department for excellent traffic control and direction to the parking lot.

When I got home I could hear the Marine band playing The Star-Spangled Banner.

I stood awestruck.

The music comes right through my backyard.

While talking to Judes I mentioned how happy he and the Marines must be that Osama bin Laden had been killed.

He nodded. I told him I read everything I could get my hands on in the Times.

How bout you? I asked. Were you able to read about it?

Yes, ma'am, he said. I read all about it.