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Volume 10 Issue 5

There and Back AgainBy Rebecca HazenA lifetime later, Wellsboro’s Irvin Smith Jr. (left, with son Irvin III) reflects on his war in the Pacific.

The Queen of GlassBy Alison FrommeCMoG builds a new glass house.

Cover by Tucker Worthington; cover photo courtesy of The Corning Museum of Glass. This page (from top): courtesy of The Corning Museum of Glass; by Michael Boeckmann; and by Rebecca Hazen.

The Winners’ CircleBy Cindy Davis MeixelChristine A. Moore (left, at Churchill Downs) makes hats that grace the Kentucky Derby—and then some!

16DedicationBy Don KnausRemembering the Greatest Generation.

21Double TroubleBy Roger KingsleyA hunting dream team meets a pair of spring gobblers, and the wait is on.

27Aging as LivingBy David MilanoOr: what your cat knows about growing older that you don’t.

36This One’s for You, MomBy Cornelius O’DonnellWhat do you give a food lover? A perfect companion.

50Back of the MountainBy Bernadette Chiaramonte-BrownMother’s Day.

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ABOUT US: Mountain Home is the award-winning regional magazine of PA and NY with more than 100,000 readers. The magazine has been published monthly, since 2005, by Beagle Media, LLC, 25 Main St., 2nd Floor, Wellsboro, Pennsylvania, 16901, and online at www.mountainhomemag.com. Copyright © 2010 Beagle Media, LLC. All rights reserved. E-mail story ideas to [email protected], or call (570) 724-3838.

TO ADVERTISE: E-mail [email protected], or call us at (570) 724-3838.

AWARDS: Mountain Home has won 66 international and statewide jour-nalism awards from the International Regional Magazine Association and the Pennsylvania NewsMedia Association for excellence in writing, photography, and design. DISTRIBUTION: Mountain Home is available “Free as the Wind” at hundreds of locations in Tioga, Potter, Bradford, Lycoming, Union, and Clinton counties in PA and Steuben, Chemung, Schuyler, Yates, Seneca, Tioga, and Ontario counties in NY.

SUBSCRIPTIONS: For a one-year subscription (12 issues), send $24.95, payable to Beagle Media LLC, 25 Main St., 2nd Floor, Wellsboro, PA 16901 or visit www.mountainhomego.com.

E d i t o r s & P u b l i s h E r sTeresa Banik Capuzzo

Michael Capuzzo A s s o c i A t E P u b l i s h E r s

Dawn Bilder George Bochetto, Esq.

d E s i g n & P h o t o g r A P h yElizabeth Young, Editor

Tucker Worthington, Cover Design

c o n t r i b u t i n g W r i t E r s Angela Cannon-Crothers, Patricia Brown Davis, Alison Fromme,

Holly Howell, George Jansson, McKennaugh Kelley, Roger Kingsley, Don Knaus, Adam Mahonske, Cindy Davis Meixel, Fred Metarko,

Dave Milano, Gayle Morrow, Cornelius O’Donnell,Roger Neumann, Gregg Rinkus, Linda Roller,

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c o n t r i b u t i n g P h o t o g r A P h E r s Mia Lisa Anderson, Bernadette Chiaramonte-Brown, Bill Crowell,

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s A l E s r E P r E s E n t A t i v E sBrian Earle

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A d m i n i s t r A t i v E A s s i s t A n tAmy Packard

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The forest and the trees: glass artist Katherine Gray’s Forest Glass glows in CMoG’s new Contemporary Art + Design Wing.

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CMoG Builds a New Glass House

The Queen of Glass

By Alison Fromme

Before The Corning Museum of Glass (CMoG) unveiled its new Contemporary Art + Design Wing in March, museum staff prepared the exhibits. They brought in

hundreds of wooden crates, removed foam packing materials, carefully extracted the contents, and placed the artwork just so. Careful hands removed drinking glasses from a box, one by one. Some were clear, others green or brown, and some were decorated with paintings of birds, leaves, or mushrooms. Each glass, bought from eBay or thrift stores, including stores in Corning, had been numbered. As each glass came out of the box, it was cleaned and then set on an acrylic shelf according to a photograph and a written key. Then another box was opened. And another. The process required ten people working periodically over several days.

See The Queen on page 8

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You might recognize a style of the glassware from your own kitchen cupboard, or your grandmother’s. But these glasses are no longer for drinking, because what has grown from these individual glasses—more than 2,000 of them—is a single work of art called Forest Glass, by Seattle-based artist Katherine Gray. Viewed as a whole, the glassware forms the suggestion of three trees, with brown hues shaping the trunk, greens creating the trees’ canopies, and transparent cups enveloping the edges. More than ten shelves tall, the trees stand at the end of a gallery within the museum’s new addition. Built to accommodate the growing number of visitors to CMoG, the $64-million expansion showcases large-scale contemporary art and the glassmaking process itself. “Glass has never been displayed this way before, and we are really looking

forward to pushing the boundaries of contemporary art and glass,” says Karol Wight, president and executive director of CMoG.

Light and Fire

Forest Glass and more than one hundred additional pieces in the new wing are bathed in natural light raining down from above. Diffuse and subtle, light became an early inspiration for the architecture. Light, which is not so simple as it seems. Nor is the building, nor the glass itself. Architect Thomas Phifer and Partners was tasked with designing the 100,000-square-foot expansion, including gallery space, a hot shop for glassmaking, and administrative offices. The award-winning architect designed the North Carolina Museum of Art in Raleigh, North Carolina; the United States Federal Courthouse in Salt Lake

City, Utah; and many other buildings since opening his practice in New York City eighteen years ago. “The first thing we did [when conceiving this design] was take a glass object out into the sunshine, and it just exploded with light,” Phifer says. “And that was a kind of wonderful moment for us, because we discovered that glass loves light.” In most museums, light is something to be feared. It fades paintings and tapestries. It can heat up display cases, damaging the artwork. But most glass is immune to the damaging force of light. Instead, glass comes to life with light. “Thomas Phifer didn’t set out to make an architectural statement,” says Tina Oldknow, senior curator of modern and contemporary glass since 2000. “He set out to create a building that would truly showcase the artwork within.” The vision for that showcase was


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Light upon light: the architecture of Thomas Phifer and Partners illuminates the new wing of The Corning Museum of Glass.

The Queen continued from page 7

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almost literally a showcase: a white glass box, reminiscent of a museum display case. Inside, the geometry flowed and curved, with walls that mirror the object Phifer viewed out in the sunlight: a vase by renowned architect and designer Alvo Aalto. A vase with smooth irregular curves. “Inspired by the image of walking into a white cloud, we designed a collection of spaces defined by soft curving walls that dissolve the separation between the art, atmosphere, light, and space,” Phifer says. “The walls and light unify the experience while honoring the works. Freed of a normal museum relationship of wall-mounted works, the curving walls and the light from above enable the pieces on the floor to levitate.” Such a space sets the artwork front-and-center, with few distractions to bother a viewer. And yet, gazing at the pieces of artwork—some huge, some small, some translucent, some opaque, some sparkling, some etched, and all

immobile—one might forget that their origins were in a fiery furnace. Two thousand degrees—or more!—of heat melted silica, the main component of sand. This, plus other materials, transmogrified into molten globs that were then shaped by molds, or by gravity, or by the movements of a gaffer into their final honored forms. Lest we forget those origins, the former Steuben Glass, a production facility that operated on this spot from 1951 until 2011, was adjacent to the museum and is now part of the expansion’s footprint. Steuben-crafted engraved fruit bowls and animal figurines were presented as gifts among the country’s elite since Steuben’s founding in 1903. Prince Charles and Lady Diana received Steuben glass as a wedding gift. Pope Benedict XVI in Rome was presented with a figurine as a gift. Steuben Glass became known for quintessential American artisanship. The renovated Steuben factory building is big, industrial, and the

color of soot, topped with an iconic structure, like a pair of tongs reaching skyward, which once ventilated the hot factory. The vision for this factory was to strip it down to its bones and create a twenty-first century hot shop, the Amphitheater Hot Shop, with equipment for artists and glassmakers to show off their skills to as many as 500 guests at a time. “We wanted to build the best hot shop in the world, where any glass artist would want to work,” says Eric Meek, manager of hot glass programs at CMoG. “This creates new opportunities for artists to engage with The Corning Museum of Glass,” says Meek, “and for the community to be able to watch an amazing level of talent come to our town.”

Building the Glass House

Turning the architectural and artistic vision into reality was no small feat. The new wing had to be constructed from scratch. And, unlike


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The Queen continued from page 11most buildings, which are built from the outside in, the new wing was built from the bottom up, from the inside out. “As you can imagine, for a project of this size, it is difficult to sum it up simply,” says John Franzese, Senior Project Superintendent at Welliver. The Montour Falls-based company was part of the joint venture construction management team, along with Gilbane Building Company, that took the project from the end of the design phase through the finishing touches. The team planned site logistics and safety, managed the project during construction, ensured quality, and more. Crews broke ground on June 7, 2012. More than 1,000 tradesmen and women worked through three tough winters to get the Contemporary Art + Design Wing built and the Amphitheater Hot Shop reinvented. Foundations were excavated, poured,

and backfilled. The superstructure—the concrete floor and serpentine walls that would create the gallery spaces—was built. A maze of ductwork and the utility framework was hidden within the walls, so that no trace of building mechanics would distract museumgoers from the artwork. Reinforcing steel crisscrossed the site. Concrete pumped its way through a giant tube suspended in the air and poured out at the rubber boots of workers carrying backpacks of gear, making sure that this floor was done properly. Karol Wight visited the site on occasion, wearing a hard hat, and project managers Ken Jobe and Joe Dubendorfer kept her abreast of the construction progress. In her previous position at the Getty Villa in Malibu, California, Wight helped oversee a $275 million renovation, so she was well suited to lead CMoG through this process. The original museum, including its earlier

additions, regularly felt too small, she says, especially when multiple tour busses arrived simultaneously. “Really, the expansion was the answer to our prayers,” Wight says. When the concrete walls were finally poured, a bird’s eye view revealed the curving walls winding their way within the rectangular box. The bones of the building were in place. Lifting a thirty-ton steel truss was another tricky construction moment, and potentially risky, says Franzese. The truss, a structural support, would span a wall with a 140-foot long window. The truss was built in three pieces in Rochester, assembled on-site at Corning, and set into place on a Sunday morning, while the rest of the construction site was quiet. During various phases, a 350-ton crane stretched 200 feet in the air. A tower crane hoisted big bulky insulated metal panels. Two hundred and six pre-

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cast concrete beams became part of the ceiling. Nine hundred and eighty glass panels, from opaque to translucent, became the skylight. And finally, to create the glass box itself—the white, white façade—huge panels of glass arrived from Germany by ship and then by specialized trailers. Most of the panels were ten feet by twenty feet, weighing about 5,000 pounds each, but the largest was ten by twenty-eight, topping out at 6,000 pounds. “The seemingly simple ‘white glass box’ was anything but simple and required the overcoming of multiple engineering and design challenges,” says Bob Gray, National Enclosure Company Project Manager, who worked on the façade. “It had never been done before.” Despite their unwieldy size, not a single panel of glass broke during installation. “Working with such large lites of glass requires patience and a delicate touch,” says Gray. “Every move of the glass must be methodically planned out ahead of time.” To hoist the giant glass panels, a custom glass vacuum lifter was fashioned to handle the units—a contraption with a set of electronically controlled suction cups, attached to a crane. The panels were hung on the building’s exterior, with industrial-grade hooks, and then released from the suction cups by remote control. One hundred fifty panels were lifted and placed this way, painstakingly planned. Franzese adds, “This phase required careful measurement to ensure accuracy, careful management to ensure all pieces arrived in time, and especially careful installation to ensure safety of all construction personnel.” When Franzese walked through the building with architects from Thomas Phifer and Partners about a week before the grand opening, they told him that it was like walking

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A life in glass: Italian artist Javier Pérez’s Carroña (Carrion) is intended by its creator as a metaphor for the gradual disappear-ance of the traditional glass industry in Murano, Italy.


through their rendering. “That’s about as good as it gets in our business,” he says.

The Glass Within

The Contemporary Art + Design Wing, and its 26,000 square feet of gallery space, opened on March 20, 2015. Entering from the main entrance lobby, visitors are enveloped in white light filtering through the skylight roof and down between the concrete beams twenty feet above. Curving walls stand in contrast to the boxy exterior. With otherworldly light and high ceilings, it is clear that the place is one of reverence, whether or not you recognize the names of the world famous artists who created the works. Lino Tagliapietra, Klaus Moje, Roni Horn, Ann Gardner, Karen LaMonte, Beth Lipman, and Liza Lou are just a few of the artists that more than 400,000 visitors will encounter this year. The space is the largest in the world devoted to contemporary glass. And yet, says Oldknow, it is not aggressive or overwhelming like some large modern spaces are. It is still human in scale, she says. In one room, eighteen glass forms, like narrow hulls of boats, hang from the ceiling at various but symmetrical

heights, as if floating, but immobile. A fleet of ornately decorated gondolas in Venice inspired the artist Lino Tagliapietra to create Endeavor. Each piece of glass is a different hue, or a blend: vibrant blue, muted orange, red, turquoise, and others. The interiors are shiny smooth. But the exteriors are textured, like fishes’ scales, perhaps. “See all this detail? Now we can see all of this so clearly because of the light,” says Oldknow. Another piece, Untitled, by Roni Horn, stands near a translucent window. Low, large, and circular, the piece appears to emit a lime green glow. As light plays off the glass, a viewer might wonder, “Is it hollow? Or full of water?” No, upon closer inspection, it is solid: perfectly clear glass contained within colored glass. But on another day, with different weather? With the quality of light changing as clouds pass over the sun? The piece might transform slowly across the seasons, or in just a few minutes, changing right before the viewer’s eyes. Contemplation requires effort, and the opportunity for rest to recover from museum fatigue is a welcome addition. Visitors will find that rest on the “porch,” an area along that 140-foot window that looks out on a landscaped green (in progress). This connection with

the natural world was intentional for architect Thomas Phifer. Back in the gallery, Forest Glass also connects visitors with the natural, and its changing state. The name not only refers to the tree forms, but also a Medieval type of brown and green glassware, according to Katherine Gray. To fuel the furnaces that created glass during that time period, trees were cut for fuel. Forest Glass is something of a recycled reforestation. But perhaps it is even more. Somehow, the sunlight that grew those forests became part of the trees themselves. The fires of glassmakers’ furnaces released that light from wood. And from those furnaces, it’s as if the glass that emerged had harnessed and stored the sunlight and fire itself. In the Contemporary Art + Design Wing, under the giant skylight, sunlight won’t make the Forest Glass trees grow. But sunlight does glow back at us, urging us to be present in the moment, look toward the future, and grow. Reflecting on the expansion and the collection, Tina Oldknow says, “We’re in a whole new realm now.”

Alison Fromme is an award-winning freelance writer in Ithaca, NY.

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The Laurel Festival was just two weeks away. The beginning of

summer was three weeks away. But, for the residents of Wellsboro, Decoration Day was the official summer kick-off. Memorial Day weekend in the village was a hubbub of activity. The town pool opened on Saturday. Rain or shine, every kid in town who owned a swimsuit dutifully lined up at the entrance to the Woodland Park pool. When the doors opened, they’d file past Mary Baker or Aggie McCarthy and scurry to changing booths under the pool deck. Then, once changed into swimwear, kids raced up the concrete steps to the deck and dove into the clear blue water. It was a day for teen boys to show off the courage and skills they had grown into since last August. A few had graduated from cannon balls

and jack knife dives off the low board to somersaults and gainers from the high dive. Some novices finally got the courage to climb the long ladder and skid down the watered slide. Adolescents showed their progression from simply sitting on the slide by bravely sliding on knees pushing forward at the end to do a headfirst sploosh to the middle of the pool. Young boys quickly formed teams and played a game on the vast lawn beside the pool. Years ago, someone had named the game “Pom-Pom” but it was really just a sophisticated version of team tag. The latest sweet young things spread towels on the lawn and stretched out, soaking up sun and attracting ogling boys. After the boys tired and the girls burned, they all headed to the lobby of the pool to watch Dick Ford fill the candy machines. Every kid crowded

around, trying to catch the exact slot where the “Grab Bag” chute contained two candy bars instead of one. After the swim, a hike over Park Hill was in order so that young folks could stroll on Main Street and enjoy the sunshine. Boys filled the barbershops to get their flat top and brush cuts evened up. Old-timers offered the young males plenty of unsolicited advice on the fine art of dating. The very most in love would start the evening with a stop at The Candy Kitchen to share one of Gus’s Sweetheart Sundaes with their gals. The weekend always promised a new movie at the Arcadia and swains would take their favorite girls. A serious romance meant a trip up the stairs to the balcony. Lawns were spruced up for the summer as the remainder of the fall’s leaves were swept up. Garden planting

DedicationRemembering the Greatest Generation

By Don KnausM

ia L

isa A

nder

son

A day for remembering: Wellsboro’s WWII memorial stands watch on The Green.

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was polished off as vegetable seeds were sown in pampered plots to join the onion sets and spinach. On Sunday everybody went to church. The ladies wore their Easter outfits for the first time without shivering against the cool spring air. Tables were crowded for Sunday dinners as families gathered to bless the meal and consume prodigious portions of baked ham or roast beef. In the afternoon, teenage girls would gather in clutches on Main Street to spread the gossip about Saturday night. Most wore the season’s first Bermuda shorts. Boys cruised in their jalopies up and down the street eying the gaggles of gals. Sunday evening was spent at home playing board games or watching Ed Sullivan on snowy TV screens. Saturday and Sunday of the weekend were merely preludes to Monday. Memorial Day was a solemn duty to be performed by the patriotic citizens of the town. Memorial Day was a day off. It was a day when all the Main Street businesses were closed. Restaurants were closed. Factories were closed. Schools were closed. The parade and attendant ceremonies were the focus of the day. A small contingent of Lions Club members toiled at flipping chicken halves for their annual barbeque. Savory sauce and juicy fats dripped down to the glowing coals of the pit to form enticing smoke which wafted over the homes and settled on the company of spectators gathering to watch the parade. The parade was an inspiring and sober exercise in gratitude and remembrance. The Junior High Band led the procession in homage to veterans. Marching down the street were vets of all ages. There was Old Man Ketcham, who made the charge up San Juan Hill, and Bulldog Berilla, who chased Pancho Villa in Mexico and a few years later fought at Meuse-Argonne. Among the World War II vets was the owner of Ted’s Esso who was wounded on Omaha Beach, and Wimpy, who drove a tank to meet the Russians on the Elbe River. There marched Warren Spencer, who jumped behind German lines on D-Day and got wounded in Holland. And there was John Webster, who won the Silver Star and Bronze Star as a paratrooper in France and Holland. And there was Big John Ski, still proudly wearing his Marine uniform, who survived five amphibious landings in the Pacific. And many more of the Greatest Generation. Korea was represented, too. Among them was Lew Watkins, who crawled under enemy fire to drag a wounded buddy to safety, and Norm Antoine, who waited for the Chinese troops on the Yalu River. A platoon from the local National Guard unit, resplendent in dress gear, clipped their boots smartly on the pavement, trailing the vets. The guards were

See Dedication on page 19

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Mansfield University is the only university in the state of Pennsylvania that is recognized as a member of the Council of Public Liberal Arts Colleges (COPLAC). COPLAC is a distinct and diverse consortium of public colleges and universities from across the United States and Canada. COPLAC limits its membership to one institution per state.

At Mansfield our students have the opportunity to collaborate with students from 28 other COPLAC schools on undergraduate research and projects, as well as participate in student exchanges and shared study-abroad programs. As a student member of the Pennsylvania State System of Higher Education (The State System), students also have the opportunity to engage with the other 13 state universities in joint educational, social and athletic events. Mansfield University offers the best the state has to provide, while also offering unmatched opportunities through our COPLAC affiliation.

Mansfield Made…Mountie Strong!

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followed by shiny convertibles carrying Gold Star Mothers—too many for a small town. Following the cars were the scouts. Boy Scout Troops included Troop 24, a troop that had been rehearsed in the finer points of marching in step and who had undergone a strict uniform inspection. Troop 32 gathered its boys at the Methodist Church and prayed before stepping in cadence to The Green to start the parade. Troop 82 traipsed along after the smart stepping boys walking lackadaisically in rag-tag uniforms. Cub Scouts in blue walked behind the boys. Girl Scouts in green and Brownies in tan joined the procession. In the fifties, every town had a drill team. Several times the Galeton drill team, reigning world champions, came to offer support. Drum and bugle corps were fixtures. Fire engines chugged and idled, chugged and idled along the route, filling in among the various segments of the procession. A unit of Fire Police in Air Force blue uniforms and white helmets marched smartly along. A horse platoon was added toward the end. The back of the parade was stirred by the perfect Sousa marches played by Nodie Johnson’s Senior High Band. Rumor among the students was that she had served in the Marine Corps during “The War.” And, the way that she commanded rehearsals, she might have been a drill instructor at Parris Island. The band was sharp, dressed in Confederate grey uniforms with crimson piping and silver buttons. The military hats were topped with bright red plumes. Polished tubas, trumpets, and trombones flashed in the sun. Tenor drums formed an entire row of the band just for show. The snare drums were flanked by two sets of brass cymbals. The drum major strutted ahead of a dozen twirlers moving their batons in practiced, perfect unison. Nobody was out of step in Nodie’s band. When the bands entered the cemetery all music and drumming stopped. A single snare drummer quietly

Dedication continued from page 17

See Dedication on page 32

21

O U T D O O R S

Double TroubleA Hunting Dream Team Meets a Pair of Spring Gobblers, and the Wait Is On

By Roger Kingsley

See Double Trouble on page 23

One spring morning, my son-in-law Jason and I were mulling over some turkey

hunting strategies when we heard a gobble on the far side of the fields adjacent to the barn. I climbed the silo and spotted four strutting long beards trailing behind several hens whose pace appeared deliberate. From weeks of observations, I was certain that their destination would funnel them through a pinch point between a stream bank and the corner of a pasture. Without hesitation, Jason and I quickly drove to the north end of some fields about one-third of a mile away, descended into a ravine, and hurried to our ambush point. We didn’t talk

about the weather. We didn’t talk about women. We didn’t talk about guns, Ford trucks, gas wells, or a western hunt. Nothing but turkeys was on our minds. There were hens and gobblers all heading into our laps if we could pull it off. Man, the excitement was borderline overpowering! Slipping down the ravine’s creek bottom like snipers, we rehearsed our plan of attack. If two bearded birds came into range, Jason would take the one on the right, and I would take the left one. But if they were single file, I’d take the lead bird, and Jason would aim for the follower. I’d be the designated counter, and we would shoot on three…not until! At the end of the ravine we visually

and vocally located the birds, heard a gobble, and then carefully crept into position at the base of a big white ash tree. The sizeable trunk would easily break up our outline. Sitting shoulder to shoulder, our shotguns were readied, facemasks were adjusted, legs were folded toward our chests for elbow support, and our hearts pounded like they were pumping molasses. The overcast skies and light drizzle added even more security to our deadly ambush position in the rain-soaked woods, which intensified the excitement. We rehearsed our plan once again. If we were both going to end our season today, there must be no mistakes. The

Roge

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Gobble, gobble: the author (left) with son-in-law Jason on an excellent spring day.

22

WELLSBOROWELCOME TO

23

light rain rendered my slate call useless, but Jason—besides his box call—had a Quaker Boy tucked into the roof of his mouth, and his tongue was no stranger to the delicate imitating device. Time passed, we waited…Jason called. We waited, Jason called…nothing. Just like that the birds had hushed. More time passed. Had they seen us? Did they stray from the predicted course? I turned to Jason and sensed concern in his eyes, and likewise he saw it in mine. More time passed. The lengthy silence of the birds became unbearable. Visually locating their whereabouts called for shuffling our position. At this stage of the game that’s a no-no, an unwritten rule of turkey hunting, but we both agreed to break it. I volunteered. Inching up, I immediately saw the birds bearing down on us. Uh-oh! I quickly hunkered down and seconds later a hen sauntered into view skirting our right side. She was feeding, but looking, and the rush began. I could hear Jason’s breathing; he heard mine. With soft whispers we rehearsed: on three if they show. And they did. Two of the four gobblers we’d seen earlier suddenly broke cover out in front of us. We both gasped at the broom-like beards swinging to and fro from each breast. Camouflaged gun barrels slowly shifted towards the targets, grips tightened, beating hearts kicked into overdrive. Leveling our beads, I whispered to Jason, you on ’em? Yup, are you? No…mine’s behind a tree! Shhh! Now are you? Yup! You on the right one? Whoops, I’m on the left one! Now I am, are you ready? Yup! OK…1…wait a minute, I’m supposed to count! Whoops! Shhh! OK, I’m on the right one, are you? Yup! OK, here goes…1…2…BANG BANG!!! Jason’s 12-gauge Benelli thundered just slightly ahead of my 20-gauge pump. Birds scattered, except for two long beards pelted with lead shot twenty-eight yards away. We rushed to the birds high-fiving, hooting, hollering, and dancing around like rock stars with lice. What an episode! What a hunt! I’ve learned plenty about these popular game birds thanks to Jason and some special friends. I’ve also made mistakes that cost me a filled tag, but all hunters make them and, besides, that works both ways…turkeys make mistakes, too. Looking back got me to thinking. The more I participate in this season called spring gobbler, the more I’m convinced that pursuing them in the years ahead is going to leave some indelible memories on what remains of my hunting life.

A hunter and photographer, award-winning writer Roger Kingsley’s articles and photos have appeared in Deer & Deer Hunting, and Pennsylvania Game News, among others.

Double Trouble continued from page 21

CORNING’S GAFFER DISTRICTWELCOME TO

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Aging as LivingOr: What Your Cat Knows About Growing Older That You Don’t

By David Milano

Tess is eighteen years old now, a bit rickety, a bit thin, more than a bit stiff in the back end. She is,

these days, a conspicuously elderly cat, moving more slowly and covering less ground than ever before. Sad, we think, especially given memories of her early years as an ace hunter and gymnast. But to Tess, aging is really no matter. It is just another of the continual string of bare, immutable realities that constitute life. Aging simply is, like darkness, or light, or gravity, and requires neither analysis nor judgment. It is merely there, to be ridden out.

So, unsurprisingly, Tess is adapting well to her dotage, which says nothing about her in particular except that she is a representative of the animal kingdom, to which God in his wisdom has denied both the infirmity of vain self-awareness and the dubiously valuable concept of “tomorrow.” In that, she stands in blunt contrast to humans whose characteristic vanities and worries oblige us, upon finding a new creak in the knee or a developing hesitancy to lift heavy things, to be astonished or embarrassed or even horrified, especially if we happen

to observe that old age is not the climactic denouement of wisdom, understanding, and prestige promised by the AARP and Florida retirement communities, but more an ordinary and very automatic waning of powers. Most people very reasonably find the thought of life not expanding in brilliance, but slouching instead into slow-motion dwindles, outlandish. “Is this happening to me? So soon?” Tess on the other hand just takes what comes and makes the best of it, apparently with no desire at all to turn the crooked straight. Rather her

Davi

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ilano

See Aging as Living on page 30

Sunshine on my shoulders: Tess in a sunbeam, taking life as it comes.

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Thursday, May 21stGlass Ribbon Cutting 5:00pm2300°: GlassFest 5:30pm

Friday, May 22ndCorning® Gorilla® Glass Scavenger Hunt during business hoursOral History Project 11:00am-6:00pmFlameworking Demonstration 12:00pm-1:00pmOutdoor Hot Glass Show 2:00pm-9:00pm Live Music – Houston Baker 4:30pm-6:00pmFinger Lakes Wine & Beer Tasting 5:00pm-8:00pmRock the Park presented by Simmons-Rockwellfeaturing live music – Houston Baker 7:30pm-8:30pmBurning Hearts Fire Show 8:30pm-9:00pmLive Music- Kingsfoil 9:00pm

Saturday, May 23rdGlassFest 8K 8:30amCorning® Gorilla® Glass Scavenger Hunt during business hoursStreet Exhibits, Artists & Vendors 11:00am-7:00pmPuppen Meister Kids Carnival 11:00am-7:00pmOutdoor Hot Glass Show 11:00am-8:00pmDarren Goodman, Glass Artist 11:00am, 1:00pm & 3:00pm

Raku & Pottery Demonstrations 12:00pm-6:00pmLive Music – Jayne & Bram 12:00pm-1:00pmMagic Joe 3:00pm & 5:00pmSmokin’ Hot BBQ 4:00pm-7:00pmLive Music - House Cats 4:00pm-7:00pmRock the Park presented by Simmons-Rockwell Kids Activities 4:00pm-8:00pmLive Music – Rob Bellamy 6:30-8:00pm Mirage (Fleetwood Mac Tribute) 8:15pm Fireworks 9:45pm

Sunday, MAY 24thCorning® Gorilla® Glass Scavenger Hunt during business hoursOutdoor Hot Glass Show 11:00am-5:00pm Raku & Pottery Demonstrations 11:00am-5:00pm Puppen Meister Kids Carnival 11:00am-5:00pm Street Exhibits, Artists & Vendors 11:00am-5:00pm

Darren Goodman, Glass Artist 12:00pm & 2:00pm Magic Joe 1:00pm & 3:00pm Rock The Parkpresented by Simmons-Rockwell Kids Activities 11:00am-5:00pmLive Music – Nothin’ New 12:00pm to 1:15pm Live Music – Quentin Harriger 1:30-2:30pm Memorial Day Salute 2:30pm Live Music – Darryl Worley 3:00pm

**Schedule subject to change** For locations, pricing and most up-to-date information visit www.glassfest.org

GLASSFEST EVENTS AT A GLANCE

Photos by C

agwin Photograp

hy

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formula is to balance decline by polishing up pleasures best suited for the measured pace of a pensioner. Lately, for example, she has fortified a previously solid position on the benefit of regular napping, and with it amplified her long affinity for warmth. She has become, if this can be imagined, even more appreciative of siestas in the sun, or any found spot of concentrated warmth, like atop dozing humans or on \\9pjbd[;nqichhhggggggggg laptop keyboards. Now that the old exhilarating mice and mole forays are gone, her hunting habit is satisfied today by quietly chattering at chickadees through the window. And she has gracefully managed her newly inferior position in the self-governing society of household pets by the adoption of a novel policy of isolationism. When the younger cohorts get to bickering, Tess just turns around and walks away. She has essentially cooled off, collected herself, and settled in to enjoy life’s “simple pleasures.” Simple pleasures get pretty good press in the human world despite the obvious but difficult fact that our follow-through on identifying and enjoying them is seriously lacking. That may be understandable, living as we do in a culture dominated by movie stars, money moguls, and political pooh-bahs, but we are no healthier for understanding our delinquencies. Finding goodness in simple things is clearly contingent upon direct involvement with them, but frankly, we’re not interested. We’re too busy, too excitable, too discontented about the present and too anxious about the future to bother with anything that doesn’t promise flashy, instantaneous escape. Aging could help cure that little problem by slowing us down long enough to catch the scent of nearby roses, but it usually doesn’t work. Our preference as we get older is to fling ourselves at useless strategies designed to thwart nature and prevent the inevitable. Here is where the simple animal can teach the complex human. Tess may not know exactly that youth is not forever, or that serenity can be, but she operates that way. Better, I think, than knowing it and acting otherwise. Tess will not be with us much longer, of course. She has already beaten the statistical average cat lifetime (thirteen to fifteen years by most estimates) and by the look of things is not going to approach anything near record age (Guinness World Records pegs the oldest house cat at thirty-eight years). No doubt we’ll miss her when she’s gone, but perhaps we’ll allow Tess to leave a minor legacy to help prolong her memory—that of simple satisfaction with what cannot be changed.

IRMA Award-winning writer David Milano is a frequent contributor to Mountain Home.

Aging as Living continued from page 27

31

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32

played a slow, deliberate cadence while the band marched in silence to the spot where the ceremonies took place. Local dignitaries and distinguished veterans performed the requisite rites. Someone always read General Logan’s orders to “strew flowers and otherwise decorate the graves of veterans.” Someone else would read Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address. A vet would deliver a pertinent speech. A few prayers would be said, interspersed with patriotic selections from the band. A squad of National Guardsmen would fire a gun salute while bugles echoed “Taps” over the burial ground. The sun always shined brightly and the band uniforms were soaked with sweat. A few of the band members, standing at attention, would faint from the heat. The National Guardsmen, all certified medics, quickly removed dizzy twirlers and drummers to a waiting Army ambulance where the temperature was even more stifling. That was the usual Memorial Day. But this particular Memorial Day would witness the official dedication of the World War II Memorial on the village green, just before the parade. Nobody could remember a Memorial Day when it rained. But this day the sun rose to a downpour. The officials decided that, in lieu of the usual parade, they’d just continue with the observance on the green and call it a day. The local VFW and American Legion had chipped in to buy a memorial sculpture commemorating the service of the young men and women of the county who had served in the Second World War. Somehow, probably by default, Shorty was placed in charge of the acquisition and dedication. Now, he could have traipsed about the county, testing out the various bars in the various Veterans of Foreign Wars Posts and soliciting funds, but he didn’t. So the statuary was, well, short. Standing on a ten-inch marble base, it was only a little taller than Shorty. And Shorty had come by his nickname honestly. He had the monument company place the statue on the base in the dark of night and it was

carefully covered in canvas. This would truly be the public unveiling. The local Legion had purchased a wreath to be placed at the foot of the statue at dedication. Someone in a dark blue Legionnaire’s parade cap handed the wreath to Shorty. He nodded to a confederate. His fellow vet whisked away the canvas, uncovering the memorial. There were audible gasps from the audience. Everybody expected a soldier in combat pose. Or maybe a charging Marine. At worst, an Air Corps officer in dress uniform. But Shorty had served in the Navy. When the granite seaman was unveiled, soldiers who had stormed the beaches at Normandy groaned. Marines who landed on Tarawa nearly croaked. Now, it was a well-known fact in town that Shorty was a man who imbibed that evil demon rum on a more than regular basis. He was often seen swirling and twirling down the back alley from Brott’s Bar to the Silver Dollar. And Shorty had gotten an early start. He had tippled since daybreak trying to calm his nerves for the big moment. He was “in his cups” as he began. He held the wreath in his right hand and slobbered toward the statue. He bowed forward, almost losing his balance. He righted himself somewhat and began his speech. He slurred, “Buddies! From all of us guys up here to all of you guys down there.” Then he slung the wreath like a Frisbee, toward the monument, hitting the stone sailor in the face. As the wreath tumbled to the ground, he concluded with, “Way to go!” Then he stood erect and saluted, raindrops mixing with tears. The monument was officially dedicated. A legionnaire cleared his throat and softly announced, “Uh, thank you, Shorty.” The Post Commander announced, “Because of the rain, we’ll cancel the parade for this Memorial Day.” The crowd slowly dispersed. Soldiers with slumped shoulders sauntered off The Green. Ex-Marines managed to slowly walk away. Air Medal winners wandered in the direction of their cars. A few vets wondered if the chickens were done at the barbeque.

Shorty wobbled near his statue. A friend put his arm around him. Several VFW Auxiliary ladies patted his back. Shorty looked up to the face on the statue and sobbed, “I’m sorry.” A grizzled vet patted him on the back and said, “It’s okay, Shorty. You did okay.” “No. I don’t mean…not for today. No. I’m sorry to my boys. About this date in ’45 I was chief of a gun crew on my ship. Kamikaze planes were comin’ at us like stirred up bees. We were low on ammo. I just ran to the elevator to pick up more…and that Jap plane wiped out the gun turret and all my boys. All of ’em. I only got scratched and a little burned. I’m sorry, boys.” “I know, Shorty, it’s okay.” “But the Germans had already surrendered! And we had the bomb. Five thousand Navy guys died at Okinawa. And the Army and Marines had another twenty thousand killed. All for nuthin’. I shoulda died with ’em.” “No, Shorty, no. Take a look on down Main Street. Come on…look. You did it for the folks at the hotel, for Dunham’s Department Store, for the Bower’s and Kentch’s Pharmacies and Carson’s and the Commonwealth and First National Banks. Look across the street to the courthouse. You did it for American justice. Look across The Green to that church…you were at Okinawa so the folks who go to church can pray in peace. Remember those kids in the band?...the kids in scout uniforms? You did it for those kids, Shorty. You fought so that they could breathe free. Take a deep breath…that air’s free because of guys like you. No, Shorty, it wasn’t for nothing. God bless you and your boys.”

Retired teacher, principal, coach, and life-long sportsman Don Knaus is an award-winning outdoor writer and author of Of Woods and Wild Things, a collection of short stories on hunting, fishing, and the outdoors.

Dedication continued from page 19

33

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34

BLOSSBURG COAL FESTIVAL MAY 27-30

THE 23 ANNUALRD

Celebrating the history and heritage of the mining industry in Blossburg and the surrounding communities.

Island Park, Blossburg, PAIn 1792 coal was discovered in the Blossburg area during the building of the Williamson Road. The coal quickly became a valuable resource that brought people to the area to work in the coal mines, and many of the towns in our area were created because of the mining that took place.

Blossburg was home to William B. Wilson, the first US Secretary of Labor. This man helped shape the United States, advocating eight-hour workdays, strong unions, workers compensation, child labor laws, and workplace safety during his years of labor activism and political influence.

After Wilson’s death in 1934 the family farm was sold to the American Legion Post No. 572 of Blossburg. The Legion Post is still located there today. Although mining no longer takes place in the area, we honor our past with the annual Coal Festival. The first Coal Festival was held Memorial Day weekend in 1993, 201 years after coal was discovered in Blossburg.

The event continues to be held on Memorial Day weekend each year. We invite you, your family, and friends to help us celebrate.

ADMISSIONAll visitors must purchase a $3.00 pin that is good for all four days of the festival and all events held at the Coal Festival in Blossburg. Gates open at 5:30 p.m. except on Saturday when we open at 8 a.m.

ENTERTAINMENT LOCAL PERFORMERS TAKE THE STAGECARNIVAL & COAL MUSEUM FOOD AND FUN FOR ALL!

WEDNESDAY May 276:00 p.m. Coal Museum Opens6:00 p.m. Carnival and Booths Open7:00 p.m. A Miners Tale written and performed by Robert Thomas Hughes

THURSDAY May 28WARD/HMAC Family Night6:00 p.m. Coal Museum Opens6:00 p.m. Carnival and Booths Open

Friday May 296:00 p.m. Coal Museum Opens6:00 p.m. Carnival and Booths Open6:00 p.m. Royalty Pageant7:30 p.m. The Band Cole

SATURDAY May 309:30 a.m. Car Show Registration & Awards at 3:309:30 a.m. Antique Snowmobile Show9:30 a.m. 10th Annual Coal Run Registration at Bear A Bar11:00 a.m. Parade12:00 p.m. Coal Museum Opens12:00 p.m. Carnival and Booths Open12:30 p.m. East West Karate Demonstration1:00 and 2:30p.m. Smooth Country Performs1:00 p.m. to 4:00 p.m. Balloons by Justin Credible2:00 p.m. Horseshoe Tournament2:00 p.m. Singers Registration for Karaoke Contest3:30 p.m. until ? Karaoke Contest Presented by Pat ColeOther Events TBAFireworks at Dusk

• AREA’S LARGEST FIREWORKS DISPLAY -Starting at dusk

For more Information call 570-638-3313 or visit www.blossburgcoalfestival.org

This schedule brought to you by:

35

BLOSSBURG COAL FESTIVAL MAY 27-30

THE 23 ANNUALRD

Celebrating the history and heritage of the mining industry in Blossburg and the surrounding communities.

Island Park, Blossburg, PAIn 1792 coal was discovered in the Blossburg area during the building of the Williamson Road. The coal quickly became a valuable resource that brought people to the area to work in the coal mines, and many of the towns in our area were created because of the mining that took place.

Blossburg was home to William B. Wilson, the first US Secretary of Labor. This man helped shape the United States, advocating eight-hour workdays, strong unions, workers compensation, child labor laws, and workplace safety during his years of labor activism and political influence.

After Wilson’s death in 1934 the family farm was sold to the American Legion Post No. 572 of Blossburg. The Legion Post is still located there today. Although mining no longer takes place in the area, we honor our past with the annual Coal Festival. The first Coal Festival was held Memorial Day weekend in 1993, 201 years after coal was discovered in Blossburg.

The event continues to be held on Memorial Day weekend each year. We invite you, your family, and friends to help us celebrate.

ADMISSIONAll visitors must purchase a $3.00 pin that is good for all four days of the festival and all events held at the Coal Festival in Blossburg. Gates open at 5:30 p.m. except on Saturday when we open at 8 a.m.

ENTERTAINMENT LOCAL PERFORMERS TAKE THE STAGECARNIVAL & COAL MUSEUM FOOD AND FUN FOR ALL!

WEDNESDAY May 276:00 p.m. Coal Museum Opens6:00 p.m. Carnival and Booths Open7:00 p.m. A Miners Tale written and performed by Robert Thomas Hughes

THURSDAY May 28WARD/HMAC Family Night6:00 p.m. Coal Museum Opens6:00 p.m. Carnival and Booths Open

Friday May 296:00 p.m. Coal Museum Opens6:00 p.m. Carnival and Booths Open6:00 p.m. Royalty Pageant7:30 p.m. The Band Cole

SATURDAY May 309:30 a.m. Car Show Registration & Awards at 3:309:30 a.m. Antique Snowmobile Show9:30 a.m. 10th Annual Coal Run Registration at Bear A Bar11:00 a.m. Parade12:00 p.m. Coal Museum Opens12:00 p.m. Carnival and Booths Open12:30 p.m. East West Karate Demonstration1:00 and 2:30p.m. Smooth Country Performs1:00 p.m. to 4:00 p.m. Balloons by Justin Credible2:00 p.m. Horseshoe Tournament2:00 p.m. Singers Registration for Karaoke Contest3:30 p.m. until ? Karaoke Contest Presented by Pat ColeOther Events TBAFireworks at Dusk

• AREA’S LARGEST FIREWORKS DISPLAY -Starting at dusk

For more Information call 570-638-3313 or visit www.blossburgcoalfestival.org

This schedule brought to you by: Indigo

Serving The Best Beer Since 1976

For the past 80 years, First Citizens Community Bank has proudly supported community events like

the Blossburg Coal Festival, which celebrate our region’s history, making this a better place to live.

Member FDIC

firstcitizensbank.com | (570) 638-2115

36

See This One’s for You on page 39

When I asked friends for some suggestions for this month’s column they laughed and

said, “It’s the month in which we honor mothers!” I’ve used that theme over and over. I once wrote a column giving what I thought were helpful suggestions on gifts. I can’t remember the specific item (it might have been along the lines of an antique cast iron pan skillet or range-top grill), but what I do remember are the three or four notes and, more specifically, the verbal brickbats I got from readers who said, in effect, if I got a cooking pan for my big day, I’d crack the thing over my beloved’s head. If you’re in a relationship that warrants something romantic like lace unmentionables, perfume, bubble bath, and the like, then go for it. But I still think a good pan or gadget can be a great

gift for someone who likes to cook. And is it too much to ask that you cook a meal for them? Or at least make reservations at one of the new and exciting places in the area? A frequent suggestion of mine for gifts for the home chef is a cookbook. Heavens knows there is an abundance of them out there, and they keep coming…and coming. I swear if your giftee is interested in cooking something very specific—say England’s bubble and squeak—with a little research you might even find just the book, complete with several dozen doozy variations on even that theme.

Are Cookbooks Still Viable?

I must admit that even I, a cookbook collector since my early twenties, am

reaching the saturation point. My mantra is now No More Bookshelves. Nowadays there are so many ways to find some ideas for using various ingredients: just go to the Internet and type in your query. And there are ideas galore on all those TV cooking shows. Again, recipes are easily searched on most show’s Web sites. I’ve always been, however, a touchy-feelie kind of guy (stop snickering please). I like to turn pages in cookbooks, magazines, or newspaper food sections, read a recipe, and see if I can imagine how it would taste. After all these years, only the truly weird combinations make me wonder, and sometimes try. Some work (see the recipe below) and some are just, well, weird. I hate to waste the raw ingredients and my time in recreating some “wanna-be famous” chef ’s dream/nightmare.

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A Great Go-With Gift

I met the late author Sharon Tyler Herbst at food conferences years ago. She had a thousand-watt smile and a memorable laugh. Since we were veterans of many similar conferences, we used to plot and plan an “old-timers’” dinner the night before the opening sessions of the yearly meetings. Sharon had a brilliant idea: a dictionary for every level of cook so it wasn’t just a listing of raw ingredients and finished dishes, but a great source of culinary information. Her book is The New Food Lover’s Companion, and here I quote from the cover of this thick paperback: “This classic food ‘bible’ includes more than 7,200 A to Z entries (from abalone to zwieback) describing foods, cooking techniques, herbs, spices, desserts, wines, and the ingredients for pleasurable dining.” It is loaded with charts and facts and figures such as ingredient substitutions. The pan substitution charts are also especially valuable. Fascinate your friends with your newfound knowledge, such as the fact that 1 medium pomegranate will yield ½ cup of seeds. One pound of fresh spinach yields 1-½ cups cooked. And an 18-oz. jar of peanut butter yields 1-¾ cup, handy info when making cookies. Hmm, a peanut butter and jelly sounds good right now. The book is thick but small enough to fit next to the area where you might plan menus and shopping lists. Barron’s first published it in 1995, and I have the 2013 edition that was overseen by Sharon’s husband Ron. It is also available in a deluxe hardcover edition with a dust jacket. I think you’ll find it as fascinating as I did, and it is an invaluable aid when reading some of the recipes in current publications, with all those “new” peppers, spices, grains, pasta shapes, cuts of meat—you know.

Add a Present

If you don’t think this $16.99 book is quite enough of a gesture, then pop it into a nice basket and add a few sort-of-

See This One’s for You on page 40

40

Zsa Zsa kissed Me continued from page 33

unusual ingredients: a unique tea, a funny tea towel or apron, perhaps a useful tool—say a citrus juicer with a pierced collar that picks up all the pips, or one of those marvelous Micro-planes. I promised myself not to say, “Check their drawers,” but I couldn’t resist. Some potato peelers are older than their owners. Another idea: a set of six or eight of the largest new or antique napkins you can find.

An Unusual, Healthful, and Utterly Delicious Dessert

I am involved (and then some) in the culinary programs at the 171 Cedar Arts Center in Corning (and have been since its inception many, many years ago). Our programs for the 2015 winter/spring sessions have just ended (but do call them and get on their mailing list for next year). I mentioned unusual combinations of ingredients that result in a blissful dish, and a perfect example is Michael Lanahan’s chocolate mousse made with avocados. It epitomizes the classic theme: New Vegetarian. It’s far lower in “bad” fat than the usual production, but this dish loses nothing in flavor. It is deeply, satisfyingly “chocolate.” And it most certainly doesn’t taste at all of guacamole! You have the smoothness of chocolate with no hint of avocado flavor—just the creamy texture. Try it—your family will love it. Michael is the chef/owner of The Cellar restaurant on Market Street in Corning and the dish is currently on their menu. Go, make it at home, enjoy!

The Cellar’s Chocolate Mousse

Michael uses the KitchenAid stand mixer. That’s not a bad present to give or receive if you don’t have one! You want to use the California or Hass avocados for this.

2 ripe, fresh California avocados ¾ c. Dutch process cocoa powder 2 Tbsp. pure vanilla extract 1 Tbsp. agave syrup (check the natural foods section) 1 Tbsp. pure maple syrup ¾ c. granulated sugar 1 c. coconut milk, refrigerated overnight and well-shaken Brewed coffee to taste (use to slightly thin the mixture)

Put everything in the bowl that came with the mixer and, using the whip, start on “slow” and gradually increase the speed so you’re not wearing the cocoa! Drizzle in some coffee if you think the mixture is too thick. Michael serves this in shallow champagne glasses and tops each portion with a mixture of berries—fresh raspberries, blueberries, and blackberries.

Chef, teacher, author, and award-winning columnist Corne-lius O’Donnell lives in Elmira, New York.

This One’s for You continued from page 39

42

Tucked in the woods near Hills Creek State Park a famous milliner works her magic. She

loves to sketch on the deck of her cabin—a retreat from the hustle and bustle of her New York City studio. Inspiration is everywhere: a feather here, a flower there, the curve of a branch, a pop of color. The subtle hints of organic Tioga County splendor wind their way every May to America’s biggest, bawdiest, annual hat party—The Kentucky Derby. NBC’s Al Roker has dubbed Christine A. Moore “The Milliner of the Triple Crown,” and this year’s Derby will mark her sixth appearance on the Today show alongside its crew decked out in the decadent creations of her company, Christine A. Moore Millinery. Also for the Derby, Moore designs the hat for Kentucky’s First Lady Jane Beshear and, this year, she will create a hat for Josh Groban, who is scheduled to sing The Star-Spangled Banner at Churchill

Downs. A Moore hat has even been featured on an official Kentucky Derby Barbie. Another regular Moore customer is Baltimore Mayor Stephanie Rawlings-Blake, who presides over the Preakness Stakes, the second leg of the Triple Crown. Moore also serves as the official milliner for the Breeders’ Cup and the Florida Derby and its Ms. Racing Queen pageant, and is the featured designer at Keeneland, the premiere, historic racetrack in Lexington, Kentucky. Moore’s hats have graced magazine covers, television shows, and the heads of a litany of celebrities including Jennifer Lopez, Diane Keaton, Katy Perry, Mary J. Blige, and Jane Fonda, to name a few, and, of course, the aforementioned Roker who regularly sports Moore’s “Blake” men’s hat, named for her husband of twenty-four years who is her business partner and her company’s director of marketing and special events.

Prior to establishing Christine A. Moore Millinery in 1994, Moore assisted Rodney Gordon, a top theatrical milliner, working on hats for opera, ballet, and Broadway shows like Phantom of the Opera, Les Misérables, Crazy for You, and TheWill Rogers Follies. Moore’s designs are available in elegant boutiques across the country including The Fifth Season in Wellsboro, where Moore helps stage an annual hat luncheon with owner Rachel Tews. The Philadelphia native has enjoyed a lifelong connection to Wellsboro. A couple years before Moore was born, her father bought acreage near Hills Creek in 1960. While working for the U.S. Forest Service, he fell in love with the area and wanted to escape the city with his family in tow whenever time permitted. “I spent every summer camping there,” Moore says. “I have so many fond memories including my dad driving whatever car we had through the woods

The Winners’ CircleChristine Moore’s Hats Grace the Kentucky Derby—And Then Some!

By Cindy Davis Meixel

Alici

a Ha

nsen

Hat’s off!: Christine A. Moore (center) was dubbed by Al Roker “The Milliner of the Triple Crown.”

43

like it was a four-wheel drive vehicle and getting stuck, and all my cousins, aunts, and uncles staying there, building campfires at night, swimming at Hills Creek, walking through and playing in the woods. I learned how to identify all the trees from my mom.” A small cabin that her father and grandfather built piece-by-piece in the garage of their row home and transported in sections to the property no longer exists, but Moore’s parents have a second cabin on their land as does Moore and her husband. “Blake and I camped on a tent platform all our married lives. The cabin we eventually built is small, but with a big deck. Blake designed it all and we built it ourselves. It took us five years to do it under the guidance of my dad and uncle who are mechanical engineers,” she says. “We love visiting at all times of the year—most often in summer and fall. With the addition of a wood-burning stove, we’re now able to come up in the winter as long as our road is open. If it’s not, we have set up a system with sleds to pull our supplies up.” Christine and Blake met while working at Philadelphia’s Walnut Street Theatre. Both held college degrees in theatre-related disciplines and, ironically, Blake also had a connection to Wellsboro—his college roommate at Indiana University of Pennsylvania had been Mike Biddison, son of Larry and Barbara Biddison, pivotal players in Wellsboro’s arts scene and Dickens of a Christmas celebration. It was at Dickens, more than ten years ago, that Christine first started selling her hats in Wellsboro. She had joined her mother and sister, who were vending stained glass and photographs at the outdoors festival, when the late Liz Tews, owner of the former Blue Thistle Boutique, approached her. “Liz knew of my work from a shop in Doylestown. I loved Wellsboro, but didn’t think it was a town for my hats, but Liz really pursued me and was really committed to selling my hats until she

died,” Moore says. The warm reception her hats received in Wellsboro came as a surprise to Moore who had thought, due to rural socioeconomics, that her creations, ranging from hundreds to thousands of dollars, might not sell well there. “I’ve been surprised in Pennsylvania in general. From Philadelphia to Lancaster to Wellsboro to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania people are hat wearers, so I shouldn’t have been surprised. I definitely feel I’ve been honored in my home state,” she says. “And the thing about people in Wellsboro is they understand what special is. They have enjoyed my art and have paid the price for my art, and it is cherished by them. The town is filled with well-traveled, fascinating, generous, wonderful people. It really is a strange little town; it’s like The Shire in The Hobbit!” The magical allure of this rural hamlet and the beauty of its surroundings continue to draw Christine and her husband away from their metropolitan life. In addition to Dickens in December, the couple attends the Pennsylvania State Laurel Festival in June; the events land during the two brief downtimes in their busy yearly schedule. “Blake and I often say that we know more people and have more friends in Wellsboro than in the neighborhood we live in in New York City,” Moore says. “Wellsboro is definitely a retreat from New York City. As you drive Route 80, you can feel yourself getting more and more relaxed the further you get from the city and the closer you get to the woods! I love nature and those themes are always present in my designs. I always try to sketch in a place where I am relaxed and that is often in Wellsboro in our cabin or outside in nature. I love the colors of nature at all times, especially the summer.”

Wellsboro native Cindy Davis Meixel is an award-winning writer and photographer. She lives in Cogan Station.

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Seventy years after World War II’s Battle of Iwo Jima, Irvin Smith Jr.,

ninety-four years old, remembers his time on the island, and all of his time in the Marines, as if it were yesterday. He married his wife, Mildred, when he was nineteen and she was just sixteen, so that caused, “quite a ruckus,” according to Irvin’s son, Irvin Smith III. It was 1942 when Irvin volunteered for the Marines and shipped out to Parris Island, South Carolina, for basic training. “I didn’t want to go into the Army. I would have been drafted, so I jumped the gun and I volunteered,” said Irvin. Irvin’s son added, “He was in the 4th Marine Division. He was in the toughies! That is why I went into the Air Force instead. He told me too many stories!” Irvin saw combat with his division at, among others, the Battles of Roi-Namur, Saipan, and Iwo Jima. “I was on the invading force,” he said. “It was a great adventure, but I don’t want to do it again.” Aside from Iwo Jima, Irvin spent

time in Guam, the Marshall Islands, and Hawaii during his tour of duty. Some of the stories he remembers from those times are humorous, and others recall terrifying details of how people can act in a time of war. Irvin remembered the cliffs in Saipan, where mothers were throwing their babies into the ocean because they didn’t want them to be captured. “I don’t know how they could do that,” Irvin said. “War is horrible.” He talked of the Americans being sneaky so as to get the upper hand against the Japanese. A sergeant had painted a Japanese communication station’s roof red, white, and blue. The Japanese were in the building, but, because of the Americanized roof, the Japanese bombed the roof and their own people. Irvin’s son urged him to go on. “Know any more stories, Pop?” And so the stories flowed on. One time Irvin found some buried coins that came from different places, including Australia, The Philippines, and Great Britain. The British quarter is the

same size as the U.S. quarter, so Irvin used them in the coffee machine. “I don’t think they ever found out,” Irvin said with a chuckle. “Yeah, that’s not the first time you did something you weren’t supposed to do, Pop,” Irvin’s son added. Irvin showed off a flag he had found in Saipan. It was the Japanese flag, and it had writing all over it in marker. Jr’s guess was that it was left behind and lost by a Japanese military division. “I still have no idea how he managed to get it home,” Irvin’s son said. Irvin remembered Tokyo Rose, also known as Iva Toguri, who was a Japanese American in Japan at the time of WWII, and played American music and news over the radio. It was her job to try to demoralize the American troops. “She spoke beautifully, though,” Irvin said. He reflected on his companions in the 4th, noting that there were several major league baseball players in the division, plus a six-foot-seven-inch man from Belgium that they called “Big John.”

There and Back AgainA Lifetime Later, Wellsboro’s Irvin Smith Jr. Reflects on His War in the Pacific

By Rebecca Hazen

See There and Back Again on page 48

Irvin Smith Jr. and Irvin Smith III pose together with a picture of Jr. during his time in the Marines. Irvin was in the Marines from 1942 to 1945. Re

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There and Back Again continued from page 44

Irvin had many close calls, but he is quick to tell you that those don’t count. Once, when he and his buddies decided to take a dip in what they thought was a safe water hole, they were fired upon by a sniper in a nearby tree. “He shot at us running the whole way back. He must have been cross-eyed, because he missed us,” Irvin said. Irvin also had a dent in his helmet from shrapnel on Iwo Jima, which happened once his division landed on the beach, and after they had shelled from the ship for many days. “It was no picnic,” Irvin said, as tears ran down his face. “It was an awful island.” “We had seen combat in Guam and in the Marshall Islands. That was really a pushover. They weren’t prepared at all. We did pretty well then, until we hit Iwo Jima. There, they just wouldn’t give up,” Irvin said. To put it into perspective, the island was subjected to more bombings than any other place in the Pacific during the war. According to www.fightingfourth.com, Iwo Jima was an important island to control, because it was 758 miles from Tokyo and the closest the Americans had gotten to mainland Japan at that point. “It was a bare island. Nothing was there. Just rocks and mountains. After we landed on the beach we tunneled into the mountains,” Irvin said. “It took about a week to get from the beach to the mountains. There were a lot of troops there, but they just didn’t have the know-how.” He remembered that a lot of the Japanese soldiers wore wooden or canvas shoes, and that their equipment was good, but it “wasn’t up to snuff.” Irvin witnessed the iconic flag raising on Mount Suribachi, on February 23, made famous by photographer Joe Rosenthal. “It was a lot of whooping and hollering. We were on the beach when they raised the flag. We were still being shot at, though, when it was happening.” Even though the Americans had conquered the highest point, fighting continued on the island until mid-March. “We lost a couple thousand people on Iwo Jima. I would say about 50 percent of us didn’t make it,” Irvin said. Irvin was discharged from the Marines in 1945, and Irvin’s son remembers his dad taking a long time to bounce back. “I remember when I was little, my mother would buy something made from Japan,” Irvin’s son said. “He would notice it, and out the door it would go. Another time there was an explosion of some sort in the neighborhood, and his reaction was to dive behind the couch.” Seventy years later, and engaged in the stories of his younger self, Irvin says that it is important for him to remember these times and to pass them on because it just “might happen again.”

Former Mountain Home editor Rebecca Hazen is a Civil War reenactor and Keystone Award-winning writer.

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Mother’s Day

While driving the back roads of Potter County, I spotted this pair. The mother just lay there, stoically, while the lamb kept nudging and nudging, looking for her attention. But she just carried on, like a

good mom, complacent as she could be, as they continued basking in the warm spring air. ~ B.C.B.

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