[FEATURE SAMPLE]
Bill Lenhart—Taxi-driver Extraordinaire (1939-2005)
(Published in January 13, 2006 issue of Pittsburgh’s eResource)
When you hear the word “ambassador”, you think of a dignitary or maybe a politician. Normally, you wouldn’t think of a cab driver. But that’s just what Bill Lenhart was—an ambassador. Cruising around town in his spotless taxi, Bill served as a local representative of Pittsburgh. Few people are as acquainted with the Steel City, its history and attractions as was Bill. He took pride in his Pittsburgh knowledge and loved nothing more than sharing this knowledge with his passengers.
Bill Lenhart, 66, died of cancer Saturday, December 17, 2005, at his home in Stowe. He left behind his wife, seven children, 15 grandchildren, and one great-grandchild.
Lenhart was a lifelong citizen of Pittsburgh, growing up in nearby McKee’s Rocks. Before becoming an independent contractor for Yellow Cab, he worked for a time at the locally-owned Dravo Corporation. Even though he only had a ninth-grade education, Lenhart was a very astute man.
“He loved to read and kept himself educated throughout his life,” said friend and co-worker Harry Striplin. “He loved the people he would drive around, and they could tell.”
Lenhart was a big fan of music, particularly jazz, and he paid attention to what his passengers liked as well.
“Jazz was his favorite,” said Striplin, “but he also took the time to find out what his customers liked and would sometimes give them the CD as they were leaving the cab.”
Lenhart’s spotless cab and accommodating attitude helped build him a long list of regular clientele. He had many regular customers from local companies and institutions such as Seagate and Carnegie Mellon University. These customers—scientists, doctors, businessmen and women, professors, etc.—would call on him time and time again because of the pleasant experience they would have in his company. When things were slow, Lenhart worked the cab anyway he could—taking orders, working the streets, etc.
“I think people enjoyed Bill because they could tell how much he appreciated them as customers,” said Striplin. “Service, to Bill, had no boundaries. He would help [his customers] with any problem he could.”
Lenhart was first diagnosed with rectal and colon cancer in December of 2004; he was only given 2-3 months to live. In the year that he courageously battled the disease and far outlived the prognosis, Lenhart received cards and well-wishes from hundreds of people whom he touched and inspired over the years. Many of these can be read on his Website: www.blenhart.com
"I admire your courage and I take courage from your example. The best to you always."
"You were one of the people that really made us feel welcome to Pittsburgh—and clearly the one with the inside track on where to go and what to do!"
"After 10 years, you have become more than just my favorite cab driver, you have become a friend."
"Traveling with you always makes our trip so much more enjoyable, wondering what new jazz CD's and stories you'd have to share."
"Your generosity and kind gentle heart touched me deeply, as it did my Mother. No matter when you saw me you would always inquire after her health and well-being. "
Lenhart’s strength and courage reflected the positive attitude he had about life. His signature saying when asked how he was doing was: “If I were any better I would have to be two people.”
Just after Thanksgiving last year, Striplin visited his bedridden friend at his home.
“When I apologized for not making it to see him on Thanksgiving Day,” said Striplin, “[Bill] said, very firmly, that I was supposed to be with my own family on that day. He than grabbed my hand, gave me a little smirk—like this was our little secret—and said, ‘Suck every drop of life out of every day you have, every drop.’ I have always paid attention to the words of a man on his death bed.”
In addition to his wife and daughter , he is survived by two other daughters, Valerie Connors, of Industry, and Lori Lenhart Thomas, of Greensburg; a son, William Lenhart Suder, of McKees Rocks; two stepdaughters, Donna Bayura and Lisa Fox, both of Greensburg; a stepson, Anthony Koller, of Irwin; a brother, Wade Lenhart, of Esplen; two sisters, Patricia Connolly, of Denver, and Helen Klutch, of McKees Rocks; nine grandchildren; six stepgrandchildren; and one step great grandson.
Bill Lenhart was laid to rest in Mount Calvary Cemetery in McKees Rocks.
[ARTICLE SAMPLE]
A Snapshot of Beaver [Newsletter Article for Beaver Area Heritage Foundation]
In April, 2006, the Beaver Area Heritage Foundation’s Historical Museum was home to a very unique and valuable antique camera collection. “A Snapshot of Beaver” featured over 40 cameras from the late 1800s through the first half of the 20th century. The majority of the cameras and equipment were on loan from Harry Frye, formerly of Brighton Township, who has served as a photographer for both the Beaver County Times and the Latrobe Bulletin. The balance of the collection was donated to the museum by the late Mr. Homer Hogsett, who enjoyed collecting cameras and developing photographs.
“A Snapshot of Beaver” not only featured antique cameras, but also many wonderful, early pictures of Beaver County and its residents. Many of the photographs on display were taken by photographers from Brown’s Photographic Studio, which was located on Third Street on the site of the present-day Panda Garden. J. A. J. Cole, a one time resident of Second Street, is probably the most well-known of these photographers. Many of his photographs were on display, including a view of Beaver and Rochester before the construction of the P&LE Railroad Ohio River Bridge, a panoramic of the once bustling Junction Park in New Brighton; and a panoramic, 360-degree view of the destruction on Third Street, following the tornado of June 28, 1924.
Other photographs included one of the Beaver Battalion Reunion (1930), the Beaver Junior High Class of 1922, the Annual Assembly Women’s Missionary Society of Beaver Presbytery (1920), and several of the former Beaver College (1895).
Some of the more notable cameras and equipment on display included a glass lantern slide projector (circa 1895); various early Kodaks and Polaroids (circa 1902-1950); a top-view reflex camera (circa 1940); and an aerial camera used in WWII for Air Force reconnaissance missions, which included a crosshair type mechanism for focusing.
Probably the most interesting camera on display was the Circuit Camera (circa 1910), which was made by the Fulmer Schwinn Graphics Company. This camera, driven by a small gear, was capable of shooting a 360-degree picture or a panoramic shot, such as the one taken of the tornado destruction on Third Street (1924).
Besides cameras and photographs, “A Snapshot of Beaver” also featured photographic equipment including vintage film, developing chemicals, copper negative plates, and various other tools used in the developing of film.
Midge Sefton, Director of Collections Management, Member of the Board of Trustees of the Beaver Area Heritage Museum and member of the Board of Directors of the Beaver County Heritage Foundation, was very pleased with the display.
“The Collections Management Committee is most appreciative to the daughter of the late Homer Hogsett, Pat White, for her extensive donation to this exhibit. Without that donation along with the wonderful loan from Harry Frye, this exhibit would not be possible. What a great representation of the history of Beaver these two people have provided.
“A Snapshot of Beaver” ran from April to June of 2006.
[ARTICLE SAMPLE]
Be an Office All-Star!
(Published in June 16 issue of CBS Event Guide)
Hosting this year’s MLB All-Star Game is a great honor for the city of Pittsburgh. It’s an even bigger honor for the players themselves, who will represent their teams as the best of the best.
Wouldn’t it be nice to be recognized as the best at what you do? Okay, maybe you’re not a major league baseball player, but that doesn’t mean what you do isn’t important. You can still be a star at the workplace—sort of the “All-Star” of your office.
Not everyone can be honored in a national spotlight. You can, however, be an exemplary employee and be honored for your day-to-day efforts. The pay might not be as good, but you can be proud of yourself for a job well-done; and that’s something you can’t put a price on.
Okay, so how do you become the Office All-Star? There are several things you need to do to achieve this honor (and none of them have anything to do with kissing up to the big man):
1. Keep a positive attitude. This is probably the most important thing you can do to succeed in the workplace. That’s because it’s the one thing you can do before the workday even begins. If you make up your mind to stay positive before you even get to work, it will help you handle whatever’s thrown at you over the course of the day. Of course, there’s going to be days when you’re tired, grumpy and just don’t feel like working; but if you can put those negative feelings aside and put on a smile, it will show in your work performance and, believe me, your co-workers will notice.
2. Take pride in your job. No matter if you’re a brain surgeon or a secretary or a waitress, you should always take pride in your job and perform it to the best of your ability. Nobody likes a whiner or a slacker. Everyone, however, respects someone who does his job with pride and enthusiasm. If you always give it your best, others around you will notice. With any luck, your strong work ethic will rub off on your co-workers and the result will be a happier, more productive workplace.
3. Don’t wait for work to come to you. Finished with that report already? Great! But don’t just sit around and wait for your next assignment. Be proactive; ask your supervisor what else you can do in the meantime to help. There’s always something to do around the office. It may be something as simple as helping out with filing. But don’t discount the value of your extra efforts. When you volunteer to help out in your downtime, it promotes a team atmosphere that not only improves production, but overall morale as well.
More than likely, you’ll never have a chance to show off your skills in front of a national audience. But when you strive to become the “Office All-Star,” you’ll gain a level of honor and respect from another audience—your co-workers. This will not only make your workday a more pleasant experience, but it will also help you advance your career down the road.
[PRESS RELEASE SAMPLE]
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Home-Operated Invitation and Stationary Business
Offers Clients a Personal Touch
Beaver, PA (July 19, 2005) - RSVP, Ink is an invitation and stationery business owned and operated by Alessa Yanssens of Beaver. Alessa, a married mother of two young children, originally started her business to make her kids’ invitations. Her friends and family liked the invitations so much that they asked her to do theirs as well. Today, RSVP, Ink carries a wide selection of unique invitations, holiday cards, stationery, corporate products, photo enhancement options, gift items and more.
Recently, RSVP Ink was given the opportunity to do the wedding invitations for local celebrity and reality television star, Amber (Brkich) Mariano. A CBS production crew invaded Alessa’s home for over six hours to tape footage for Amber’s nationally broadcast wedding. Unfortunately, the segment did not make the final cut for the show; however, “Pittsburgh Today Live”, hosted by Jennifer Antkowiak, invited Alessa to come on the show this past May to discuss Amber’s invitations. Antkowiak then asked Alessa back for a second time, on Tuesday, July 19, to discuss her handmade custom cards and invitations.
"Alessa was a real pleasure to work with," said Amber Mariano. "Rob and I told her what we had in mind and she added her own ideas as well. The result was the perfect invitation for our wedding. Working on tight deadline, she pulled out all the stops to get our invitations finished. Even though there was a lot of pressure, Alessa really made the process easy and enjoyable."
Anyone interested in working with RSVP, Ink can contact Alessa for a free consultation at 724-728-5490, by visiting her website www.rsvpink.com, or by e-mail at a_yanssens@yahoo.com
###
[RADIO 60-SEC SPOT SAMPLE]
911 DISPATCH: Hello, nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?
VOICE#1: Help! It’s my father…I think he’s having a heart attack!
NARRATOR: Medical emergencies are unpredictable. They can happen without warning.
911 DISPATCH: Okay, ma’am, stay calm, we’ll send an ambulance right over.
VOICE#1: Please hurry!
NARRATOR: Even though you can’t predict an emergency, you can be prepared for when one happens. That’s where Medic Rescue comes in. Medic Rescue’s one-hundred-and-twenty-seven qualified paramedics and fleet of twenty-one state-of-the-art ambulances are on alert twenty-four hours a day, three-hundred-and-sixty-five days a year. As a member of Medic Rescue, you can feel comforted knowing that you’re covered in case of an emergency. Not only can a Medic Rescue membership save you hundreds of dollars, but it also enables you and your family to enjoy the security of knowing that help is just minutes away. Your family is too important. Don’t wait another minute. Call Medic Rescue today at seven-two-four / seven-two-eight / three-six-two-one. That’s seven-two-four / seven-two-eight / three-six-two-one.
911 DISPATCH: Okay, the ambulance should be there now, ma’am.
VOICE #1: Yes, they’re here! Thank you so much for your help!
NARRATOR: Medic Rescue…it’s not just our job, it’s your life!
[PRINT AD COPY SAMPLES]
QUALITY
How do you measure quality?
At c3controls, we define quality as having the best, most reliable products that money can buy. Unlike other companies that simply claim to provide quality, we guarantee it.
Here at c3controls, we use only the finest raw materials to manufacture our many lines of products. Each of our products is carefully engineered to provide superior performance, and each is tested to ensure precision and reliability. By handling everything all under one roof, we’re able to provide you with the peace of mind knowing that you’re receiving nothing but the best products available.
Quality isn’t something that comes easy. It takes a company with years of industry experience and a commitment to excellence on every level. That’s exactly what you’ll find at c3controls.
SAME-DAY SHIPPING
When you’re working against a deadline, the last thing you want to hear is that it will take days, even weeks for your order to arrive. In your line of business, time is money.
c3controls understands this. That’s why we offer Guaranteed Same-Day Shipping* on many of our high-quality products. Here’s how it works. We’ll ship your order out the same day you place it, as long as it’s received by 4 p.m. EST. If for any reason we don’t ship your order out that same day, we’ll give you 50% off the price of the item(s). That’s our promise to you.
How do we do it? By handling the entire process—from design to manufacturing to shipping—all from one location. It’s an advantage you only get from a single-source supplier like c3controls.
Don’t waste time worrying about the status of your order. Get your order on time, every time with c3controls!
DIRECT-FROM-THE-FACTORY PRICING
What exactly is “direct-from-the-factory pricing?”
There are lots of companies out there that sell the same types of products as c3controls. However, none of these companies design, manufacture, test and ship their products themselves. None, that is, except c3controls.
c3controls handles all aspects from manufacturing to shipping in-house. The result is a selection of high quality products at the lowest price you’ll find anywhere. That’s direct-from-the-factory pricing, and it’s an advantage you’ll only find at c3controls.
By cutting out the middlemen associated in traditional manufacturing, we’re able to eliminate unnecessary expenses and keep our overall costs down. We then pass the savings on to you by offering the lowest prices in the industry.
High quality products at the lowest prices you’ll find anywhere. It’s just another advantage of doing business with c3controls.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Humor Writing Samples
One Man’s First Crack at Motherhood
by Valentine J. Brkich
Just recently I became a mother. Let me preface this by saying that I am a 31-year-old man.
It all started when I returned home to find three baby birds on my driveway. One was deceased; the other two were alive but obviously shaken. There’s a nest in the awning above my front porch and I assume they attempted to fly before their time. Kids.
After a brief funeral service for the deceased bird involving a shovel and a garbage can, I turned my attention to the two newest additions to my family. My in-laws are always asking us for grandchildren. Well, I guess beggars can’t be choosy.
I carefully placed the birds on an old sweatshirt, which I then placed inside an empty planter. Then, with the birds resting comfortably, I grabbed my spade and set out to find them some proper nourishment.
A few minutes later I returned to the nest for my first official bird feeding. This was sure to be a daunting task considering I still have some trouble feeding myself (just ask my wife). Lacking a beak, I was forced to think of another way to feed the birds. In a moment of inspiration, I went to the garage and retrieved a pair of needle-nose pliers. In some weird, comforting way, the pliers almost resembled a beak. Best of all, they enabled me to feed the birds without actually touching the slimy worms. Ugh.
When I returned to the “nest,” I found that the birds had buried themselves within the folds of my sweatshirt. I was stumped. I remind you: I am not a bird. How could I get these baby birds to come out and eat? Of course I did the first thing that came to mind: I chirped, not too confident that it would work.
To my surprise the two birds emerged from underneath the shirt and opened their mouths in anticipation. One by one, I lowered each slimy, squirming worm into the mouths of the hungry birds, one of which nearly swallowed the pliers whole. Next I fed each bird one or two of these beetle-type things I found under a rock. The sparrows inhaled them like chocolate cheesecake.
It was an amazing moment. Here I was, a 31-year-old collector of Star Wars memorabilia, successfully feeding and caring for a pair of orphaned sparrows. It was a proud moment.
I haven’t figured out what to name the two birds just yet. I read somewhere that “Jacob” and “Emily” are the two most popular names for babies nowadays. Then again, why bother naming them when they’re just going to fly away someday and leave me forever. How’s that for gratitude!
Dancing Turkey Corpses and Other Cherished Holiday Traditions
By Valentine J. Brkich
Ah…the Holidays! A time for family and for tradition. The food! The presents! My grandmother chasing us around the house with a turkey dupa dangling from a piece of string. Yes, ever since I was old enough to run, my Polish grandmother has celebrated Thanksgiving by grossing us out with the amputated derriere of the family turkey. Although she no longer bothers to chase me, specifically, I still get to sit back every year and watch as she emerges from the kitchen with the turkey tushie and causes my younger cousins to run for their lives.
This bizarre ritual may seem strange to most, but it is a time-honored tradition in my family and one I cherish dearly. My grandma wasn’t the only one to put her own special twist on a particular holiday. My mother is a big holiday fan herself and had a unique ritual for just about every one.
Every Christmas morning my sisters and I would find half-eaten cookies and a note from Santa himself thanking us for the snack and for being good throughout the year. Every Easter Sunday I’d awake to find “bunny footprints” dotted all over the carpet. I always enjoyed following the footprints to my hidden basket of goodies. Although, it always struck me as strange that the Easter bunny’s feet were covered with some strange powder-like substance that only left footprints on indoor surfaces.
Lots of families practice unique traditions as a way of celebrating the Holidays. My friend Julie’s family also claims a bizarre ritual on Thanksgiving. Apparently, when she was younger, her mother would wake her and her siblings up at the crack of down just so they could watch her dance the turkey around the kitchen before plopping the poor fella into the cooking pan. What a lowly life a turkey leads! It’s bad enough that we chop off its head and stuff bread up its butt. Then we dance its naked corpse around the table in a final dance of shame. How sad.
On thanksgiving in my family, we have a cherished tradition of our own. After dinner, the men-folk slog into the living room, plop down on a sofa, loosen our belts, and gradually fall asleep as the Detroit Lions beat some other team on the tube. This is one of my favorite traditions, mainly because it involves three of my favorite things: food, football, and sleep.
Another friend of mine, Susan, shared with me how she and her relatives would gather at her grandmother’s house for the Christmas holiday. However, before they were given their gifts, the children would have to first sing a medley of three Christmas songs led by her Uncle, who was dressed in a Santa hat. This is nothing short of extortion in my opinion.
It reminds me of a similar tradition we had where my sisters and I would have to sing “Happy Birthday” to the baby Jesus before being allowed to open presents at my grandparents’ house on Christmas Eve. I never understood why we had to sing to a miniature ceramic baby figurine. But looking back now, I guess it was pretty darn cute.
Now that I’m married, my eyes have been opened up to a whole new, bizarre batch of holiday traditions. First let me preface that my wife is an Italian. Because of this, there is one steadfast characteristic that accompanies all holidays: pasta. It doesn’t matter if it is Christmas, Halloween, Easter, Yom-Kipper, Flag Day and so on. If it’s a holiday, we’re eating pasta. Heck, even Thanksgiving cannot escape this favorite food of our Italian brethren. Every year my mother-in-law and grandmother-in-law prepare us a delicious fest of turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and about four pounds of spaghetti, ziti, macaroni, or whatever type of pasta they happened to choose that day.
And let’s not forget the cheese. My in-laws go through more cheese in a week than most mice do in a lifetime. The holidays are their favorite time to bring out the real smelly stuff: the provolone, the asiago, the lucatelli. For Halloween they pass out mozzarella to the kids. For Christmas they leave out cookies sprinkled with fresh parmesan. I just don’t get it. Then again, on Christmas night, my grandmother requires us to drink shots of tequila before we’re allowed to use the restroom. So who am I to judge?
I’m really looking forward to starting some new Holiday traditions with my family. I can’t wait for the day when I can sit back on the sofa with my belt unbuckled and watch my mother chase my own children around the house with some sort of meat substance. That’s what the Holidays are all about.
Welcome to My New Office! Feel Free to Pee Anywhere!
By Valentine J. Brkich
I have a new office. It’s a wonderful place, really: breathtaking views, plenty of natural light, green grass below my feet. You see, my new office is wherever I choose it to be. Today it’s on a park bench overlooking the mighty Ohio River. Tomorrow it may be in a café or at the library. This is one of the advantages of being self-employed. Of course, in my old office, I didn’t have to watch my step for dog droppings; but it’s a small price to pay for the comforts of outdoor living.
I’m sitting here writing this column on a pleasant, 70° afternoon. Although it is quite peaceful out here, the spring landscape is alive with activity: A cardinal is gathering twigs under a bush; a squirrel is surveying the land for buried nuts; a shirtless, overweight man is sunning himself on a nearby bench. It’s Nature in all her splendor!
Across the river, I can see the end (or the beginning, depending on which way you were going) of the Old Brodhead trail, named after Daniel Brodhead (1736-1809), commander of the Western Department during the Revolutionary War. Brodhead’s command included frontier forts like Fort Pitt (Pittsburgh), Fort Wheeling (West Virginia) and Fort McIntosh (Beaver, PA), which was located just up the block from here. Looking across the river at the trailhead, I can’t help but envision the courageous Brodhead leading his armies into the wilderness to wipe out various Indian tribes so that one day we could have land for giant, box superstores and strip malls. It’s an inspiring image.
On the hillside in front of me, yellow Forsythias shine brightly as hints of green begin to appear on the stems and branches of the surrounding plant-life. These various trees and plants make much better decorations than the ones in my old office, which consisted solely of a U.S. National Parks calendar and a fake landscape that I drew on my dry-erase board.
Up river, a freight train blows its whistle as it crosses the majestic P&LE Railroad Ohio River Bridge, towering high above the water’s surface. This mighty, black iron structure, built almost completely by manpower, has been providing trains with safe passage across the river for nearly 100 years now. As I admire this amazing span and all the hard work that went into building it, I can’t help but think: man, I’m glad I’m a writer and not an iron worker.
Working in an outdoor setting such as this, you get to see a lot of interesting things. For example, right behind me a juggler is practicing his trade in the warm afternoon sun. This is something you just don’t see in an indoor office (mainly due to low ceilings). Sure, maybe the sound of his pins hitting the ground over and over…and over again makes it difficult for me to concentrate, but that’s okay. I’m sure some teenagers will be along soon to ridicule him relentlessly until he runs home, humiliated.
Out here my only co-workers are the occasional ant, honey bee or hopping spider. But unlike in a real office, these miniature colleagues are no bother to me. If they do begin to “bug” me (rim shot), I can just swat them away or, better yet, squash them into oblivion. This kind of resolution was frowned upon back in my corporate days.
Don’t be too jealous of me, however. There are also a few downsides to my new office. First of all, unlike at my old job, there’s no free coffee, donuts or office supplies. On top of that, if I get drowsy, I can’t just shut the door and take a nap. Also, out here dogs are able to run freely and urinate wherever they please (hopefully not on my leg). Speaking of urination, there’s no bathroom out here either; that is, unless you count the large sycamore next to me. I know the dogs have no problem with it, but I’m not sure if I feel comfortable taking a whiz on the floor of my new office just yet.
Who knows where my “office” will be tomorrow? That’s the beauty of the freelance lifestyle. Maybe it will be out in the woods. Maybe it will be in the comfort of my own home. It’s all up to me! Then again, if I don’t sell an article or two soon, my office and my house may be under the bridge inside a cardboard box (which, by the way, would still be better than my old office).
Valentine J. Brkich is the author of Cageball, Poker, and the Atomic Wedgie (Trafford, 2003), which has sold over 2,500 copies. He is also a speaker and freelance writer. Visit his Web site at www.BrkichWriting.com.
by Valentine J. Brkich
Just recently I became a mother. Let me preface this by saying that I am a 31-year-old man.
It all started when I returned home to find three baby birds on my driveway. One was deceased; the other two were alive but obviously shaken. There’s a nest in the awning above my front porch and I assume they attempted to fly before their time. Kids.
After a brief funeral service for the deceased bird involving a shovel and a garbage can, I turned my attention to the two newest additions to my family. My in-laws are always asking us for grandchildren. Well, I guess beggars can’t be choosy.
I carefully placed the birds on an old sweatshirt, which I then placed inside an empty planter. Then, with the birds resting comfortably, I grabbed my spade and set out to find them some proper nourishment.
A few minutes later I returned to the nest for my first official bird feeding. This was sure to be a daunting task considering I still have some trouble feeding myself (just ask my wife). Lacking a beak, I was forced to think of another way to feed the birds. In a moment of inspiration, I went to the garage and retrieved a pair of needle-nose pliers. In some weird, comforting way, the pliers almost resembled a beak. Best of all, they enabled me to feed the birds without actually touching the slimy worms. Ugh.
When I returned to the “nest,” I found that the birds had buried themselves within the folds of my sweatshirt. I was stumped. I remind you: I am not a bird. How could I get these baby birds to come out and eat? Of course I did the first thing that came to mind: I chirped, not too confident that it would work.
To my surprise the two birds emerged from underneath the shirt and opened their mouths in anticipation. One by one, I lowered each slimy, squirming worm into the mouths of the hungry birds, one of which nearly swallowed the pliers whole. Next I fed each bird one or two of these beetle-type things I found under a rock. The sparrows inhaled them like chocolate cheesecake.
It was an amazing moment. Here I was, a 31-year-old collector of Star Wars memorabilia, successfully feeding and caring for a pair of orphaned sparrows. It was a proud moment.
I haven’t figured out what to name the two birds just yet. I read somewhere that “Jacob” and “Emily” are the two most popular names for babies nowadays. Then again, why bother naming them when they’re just going to fly away someday and leave me forever. How’s that for gratitude!
Dancing Turkey Corpses and Other Cherished Holiday Traditions
By Valentine J. Brkich
Ah…the Holidays! A time for family and for tradition. The food! The presents! My grandmother chasing us around the house with a turkey dupa dangling from a piece of string. Yes, ever since I was old enough to run, my Polish grandmother has celebrated Thanksgiving by grossing us out with the amputated derriere of the family turkey. Although she no longer bothers to chase me, specifically, I still get to sit back every year and watch as she emerges from the kitchen with the turkey tushie and causes my younger cousins to run for their lives.
This bizarre ritual may seem strange to most, but it is a time-honored tradition in my family and one I cherish dearly. My grandma wasn’t the only one to put her own special twist on a particular holiday. My mother is a big holiday fan herself and had a unique ritual for just about every one.
Every Christmas morning my sisters and I would find half-eaten cookies and a note from Santa himself thanking us for the snack and for being good throughout the year. Every Easter Sunday I’d awake to find “bunny footprints” dotted all over the carpet. I always enjoyed following the footprints to my hidden basket of goodies. Although, it always struck me as strange that the Easter bunny’s feet were covered with some strange powder-like substance that only left footprints on indoor surfaces.
Lots of families practice unique traditions as a way of celebrating the Holidays. My friend Julie’s family also claims a bizarre ritual on Thanksgiving. Apparently, when she was younger, her mother would wake her and her siblings up at the crack of down just so they could watch her dance the turkey around the kitchen before plopping the poor fella into the cooking pan. What a lowly life a turkey leads! It’s bad enough that we chop off its head and stuff bread up its butt. Then we dance its naked corpse around the table in a final dance of shame. How sad.
On thanksgiving in my family, we have a cherished tradition of our own. After dinner, the men-folk slog into the living room, plop down on a sofa, loosen our belts, and gradually fall asleep as the Detroit Lions beat some other team on the tube. This is one of my favorite traditions, mainly because it involves three of my favorite things: food, football, and sleep.
Another friend of mine, Susan, shared with me how she and her relatives would gather at her grandmother’s house for the Christmas holiday. However, before they were given their gifts, the children would have to first sing a medley of three Christmas songs led by her Uncle, who was dressed in a Santa hat. This is nothing short of extortion in my opinion.
It reminds me of a similar tradition we had where my sisters and I would have to sing “Happy Birthday” to the baby Jesus before being allowed to open presents at my grandparents’ house on Christmas Eve. I never understood why we had to sing to a miniature ceramic baby figurine. But looking back now, I guess it was pretty darn cute.
Now that I’m married, my eyes have been opened up to a whole new, bizarre batch of holiday traditions. First let me preface that my wife is an Italian. Because of this, there is one steadfast characteristic that accompanies all holidays: pasta. It doesn’t matter if it is Christmas, Halloween, Easter, Yom-Kipper, Flag Day and so on. If it’s a holiday, we’re eating pasta. Heck, even Thanksgiving cannot escape this favorite food of our Italian brethren. Every year my mother-in-law and grandmother-in-law prepare us a delicious fest of turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and about four pounds of spaghetti, ziti, macaroni, or whatever type of pasta they happened to choose that day.
And let’s not forget the cheese. My in-laws go through more cheese in a week than most mice do in a lifetime. The holidays are their favorite time to bring out the real smelly stuff: the provolone, the asiago, the lucatelli. For Halloween they pass out mozzarella to the kids. For Christmas they leave out cookies sprinkled with fresh parmesan. I just don’t get it. Then again, on Christmas night, my grandmother requires us to drink shots of tequila before we’re allowed to use the restroom. So who am I to judge?
I’m really looking forward to starting some new Holiday traditions with my family. I can’t wait for the day when I can sit back on the sofa with my belt unbuckled and watch my mother chase my own children around the house with some sort of meat substance. That’s what the Holidays are all about.
Welcome to My New Office! Feel Free to Pee Anywhere!
By Valentine J. Brkich
I have a new office. It’s a wonderful place, really: breathtaking views, plenty of natural light, green grass below my feet. You see, my new office is wherever I choose it to be. Today it’s on a park bench overlooking the mighty Ohio River. Tomorrow it may be in a café or at the library. This is one of the advantages of being self-employed. Of course, in my old office, I didn’t have to watch my step for dog droppings; but it’s a small price to pay for the comforts of outdoor living.
I’m sitting here writing this column on a pleasant, 70° afternoon. Although it is quite peaceful out here, the spring landscape is alive with activity: A cardinal is gathering twigs under a bush; a squirrel is surveying the land for buried nuts; a shirtless, overweight man is sunning himself on a nearby bench. It’s Nature in all her splendor!
Across the river, I can see the end (or the beginning, depending on which way you were going) of the Old Brodhead trail, named after Daniel Brodhead (1736-1809), commander of the Western Department during the Revolutionary War. Brodhead’s command included frontier forts like Fort Pitt (Pittsburgh), Fort Wheeling (West Virginia) and Fort McIntosh (Beaver, PA), which was located just up the block from here. Looking across the river at the trailhead, I can’t help but envision the courageous Brodhead leading his armies into the wilderness to wipe out various Indian tribes so that one day we could have land for giant, box superstores and strip malls. It’s an inspiring image.
On the hillside in front of me, yellow Forsythias shine brightly as hints of green begin to appear on the stems and branches of the surrounding plant-life. These various trees and plants make much better decorations than the ones in my old office, which consisted solely of a U.S. National Parks calendar and a fake landscape that I drew on my dry-erase board.
Up river, a freight train blows its whistle as it crosses the majestic P&LE Railroad Ohio River Bridge, towering high above the water’s surface. This mighty, black iron structure, built almost completely by manpower, has been providing trains with safe passage across the river for nearly 100 years now. As I admire this amazing span and all the hard work that went into building it, I can’t help but think: man, I’m glad I’m a writer and not an iron worker.
Working in an outdoor setting such as this, you get to see a lot of interesting things. For example, right behind me a juggler is practicing his trade in the warm afternoon sun. This is something you just don’t see in an indoor office (mainly due to low ceilings). Sure, maybe the sound of his pins hitting the ground over and over…and over again makes it difficult for me to concentrate, but that’s okay. I’m sure some teenagers will be along soon to ridicule him relentlessly until he runs home, humiliated.
Out here my only co-workers are the occasional ant, honey bee or hopping spider. But unlike in a real office, these miniature colleagues are no bother to me. If they do begin to “bug” me (rim shot), I can just swat them away or, better yet, squash them into oblivion. This kind of resolution was frowned upon back in my corporate days.
Don’t be too jealous of me, however. There are also a few downsides to my new office. First of all, unlike at my old job, there’s no free coffee, donuts or office supplies. On top of that, if I get drowsy, I can’t just shut the door and take a nap. Also, out here dogs are able to run freely and urinate wherever they please (hopefully not on my leg). Speaking of urination, there’s no bathroom out here either; that is, unless you count the large sycamore next to me. I know the dogs have no problem with it, but I’m not sure if I feel comfortable taking a whiz on the floor of my new office just yet.
Who knows where my “office” will be tomorrow? That’s the beauty of the freelance lifestyle. Maybe it will be out in the woods. Maybe it will be in the comfort of my own home. It’s all up to me! Then again, if I don’t sell an article or two soon, my office and my house may be under the bridge inside a cardboard box (which, by the way, would still be better than my old office).
Valentine J. Brkich is the author of Cageball, Poker, and the Atomic Wedgie (Trafford, 2003), which has sold over 2,500 copies. He is also a speaker and freelance writer. Visit his Web site at www.BrkichWriting.com.
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