” And that’s the way it is……..”


” You are traveling through another dimension. A dimension not only of sight and sound, but of mind. Next stop…..The Twilight Zone.”

So, I am sitting at the OTB Cafe at the Boathouse in North Park the other night, eating a turkey burger and sipping on a Pinner, when this guy sits next to me with his lady and he begins to talk about the television reporting. It was a ” Twilight Zone” moment for me because he sounded just like me talking. His thoughts were mine and he verbalized them just like me. He was talking to the television at the bar and not me. We eventually conversed. It was freaky – just like an episode in the Twilight Zone. For those of you who remember the classic TV series by Rod Serling. This guy was younger than me by about 30 years and I was amazed that a guy of his age saw things exactly as the 62 year old kid. He was lamenting the current state of journalism.

As I continued to work on the burger, my mind drifted back to being with my grandfather- John Reynolds.

No matter if we were together in Pittsburgh,or on a fishing trip, or anywhere else for that matter, my grandfather had to be seated in front of the TV at 6:00 PM to watch Walter Cronkite on the CBS Evening News.

Whenever we watched Walter, it was a respected and fact filled experience, with no editorializing or political spin whatsoever. Walter reported the news accurately and when he finished with his classic, ” and that’s the way it is, (insert date), this is Walter Cronkite, CBS News, Good night”, you felt that all is well with the world even though there was news that was indicative to the contrary. I clearly remember his reporting of the events of the Vietnam War, and I never will forget watching his reporting of the assassination of John F. Kennedy, wiping a tear away facing the cameras. A memorable impression on a young boy at the time. He was sincere, he reported the news factually, and became an icon to me in the world of Journalism.

I never knew, until I read his book and watched some post retirement interviews, that Walter Cronkite was an avid sailor and accomplished navigator.

He spoke with great passion about his sailing, and I also never knew he tended to be left of center in his political views until I read the book and watched the interviews. He never indicated to his audiences his personal views on political topics and felt that journalism should be unbiased and not editorial unless it was specifically indicated.

No matter what your political views are, I think most people would tend to agree that journalism has slipped in our generation. There is no” fair and balanced” reporting in cable news or mainstream media . There is an agenda and personally, I yearn for the days when I could hear reporting that was fact based. In those days, you would also see a retraction if there was something that was reported in error. I could go on and on, but I never want my posts to be political or controversial. I am simply stating an opinion and a longing for a day gone by.

As I finished my burger, the guy next to me says ,” Nice to meet you Pat.” He remembered my name and was very polite. As I said last week, you never know about people. He and his girlfriend left the OTB and as I walked to the parking lot, I also left the Twilight Zone. Thanks for reading.

The Age of Dissent

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Watching all the news lately, takes me back to a time in my life when I first became acquainted with dissent in this country on a personal basis. I had seen the disruption of the Democratic National Convention in 1968 on television while I was in high school and the protests to the Vietnam War. chicago8 I remember registering for the draft and getting number 11. Had the war continued one or two more years, my life would have changed immensely.

I remember guys like Jerry Rubin and Abbie Hoffmann and wondered, in a high school way, what this was all about and how it applied to my life. Fast forward to college, my room mate and I became friends with a girl who was studying Native American Affairs and invited us to spend the weekend at the Seneca Corn Planter reservation up near the New York State border. We learned a lot about how the federal government had relocated their reservation due to the construction of the Kinzua Dam and how the spartan concrete block residences had replaced their native habitat on the original reservation. I chuckled when one of the older tribesmen offered to play Native American music for us. We were excited for the show only to be treated to an hour of listening to a reel to reel tape. But the old guy was sincere in entertaining and educating us. The younger folks observed us with a wary eye and as I bought some bead work necklaces in the store, I was told that not many white people were allowed to buy things in that store. I was polite in my appreciation. That weekend opened my eyes to a situation in which I started to take great interest.

When I was working in Sugarloaf, Maine after graduation, I learned that our friend Debbie was working for Ted Kennedy and was involved in the Passamaquoddy Indian Trial in Maine. I had read ” Bury my Heart at Wounded Knee” by Dee Brown and was familiar with Dennis Banks and the American Indian Movement. dennis-banks_2nr7jdownload As it turned out, Dennis Banks and Russell Means were in Maine for the trial in full native attire and Debbie invited me to see the proceedings. She told me I would have to sit in the balcony with the AIM protesters and that I should say that I was a journalist. She said some of the protests had become violent and wanted to warn me, but I was excited to see the proceedings in light of my experience with the Cornplanters and my interest in history. However, I got a call in the morning from Debbie who said not to come because a couple of  the AIM protesters had beaten her attorney and the trial was cancelled until further notice. Again, I was kind of wide eyed at the whole protest movement and kept in touch with Debbie on the status of the trial and whether the Passamaquoddy tribe had any rights to retake large portions of the state of Maine.

Growing up in the 60s, I became familiar with dissent and protest in this country. Being a history buff, I know that protest has been a hallmark of our free society since the origins of our country. From the Boston Tea Party organized by Samuel Adams in 1773 to the Whiskey Rebellion here in Western Pennsylvania protesting what was seen as an unfair tax on distillers in the region. 438448_v1

Personally, I think it is healthy to have discussion, debate and discourse on subjects that affect all of us as Americans. I know that protest has historically become violent at times to promote the cause but I do have a hard time recognizing what I see as random violence like smashing windows and burning vehicles. I guess that is where I tend to draw the line- anarchy versus protest. I am still coming to terms with that.

I never wanted to get political in my blog or Facebook pages and the intent here is to continue that protocol.250px-bury_my_heart_at_wounded_knee_cover But I know there are always two sides to every story. I have my personal beliefs, but in this day of great polarization in our country, I think it is important for all of us Americans to discuss, debate and not personalize the differences with name calling and vitriol. Thomas Jefferson once said,” Every difference of opinion is not a difference of principal.” I believe deep down that most Americans recognize that we live in a great country and are blessed in comparison to most places in the world. Our differences can be discussed with civility as we are all Americans united in continually trying to improve our country and our government. Dissent is nothing new and can be healthy as history has proven. Thanks for reading.

The Return of a Classic Ski Area

I have skied a lot of areas in my time and most of them were in New England where there are the giant, corporately run areas and the smaller privately held areas. The smaller areas always held my interest because they had a sense of tradition and a feel of skiing in another time. Recently, in our neck of the woods, down here in the Banana Belt, Laurel Mountain came to life again this year. It went from being one of the lost ski areas to a vibrant, resurgence of a classic ski area reminiscent of those areas in New England. In fact, there is a tie to Mt. Cranmore in the Mt. Washington Valley of New Hampshire. Apparently, when the Mellon family first had the idea to develop a ski area in 1939 for the members of the prestigious Rolling Rock Club in Ligonier, they hired Hannes Schneider to lay out the trails. Hannes Schneider was the ski school director at Mt. Cranmore who was brought to the US from Austria by the industrialist Harry Gibson, a friend of Richard King Mellon. Schneider is widely acclaimed as the father of ski instruction in this country. newaerial

When you first pull past the stone entrance hut on the mountain road, you feel as if you are driving back in time. The parking lot is never full and as you make your way to the top of the mountain lodge which has been recently refurbished, you can relax in an Adirondack chair by a roaring fire and put your boots on. img_1263 You can then take your brown bag lunch inside or take advantage of some good comfort food in the new bar area in the base of the lodge. The picture windows look out on the whole Ligonier Valley which is not only scenic during the day, but a sight at night if you choose to night ski. The refurbished snowmaking by HKD and the new Pistenbully groomer make the Wildcat slope a delight to ski and it is known to have the steepest vertical in the state. img_1266

I remember skiing Laurel when it was run by the state and had some amazing powder days there with Frank Pipak, a friend who took the PSIA exam the same year that I did. Although, I spent the winter prior to that exam in Sugarloaf, Maine, I often credit my runs down Lower Wildcat with preparing me for the steeper terrain that was utilized in the exam. My friend Hiller Hardie always says, ” if you want to get your legs ready for the western trips, lapping Wildcat at Laurel will put you in good form.” Your legs get a work out on lower Wildcat with the steep vertical pitch. img_1265

When Seven Springs Mountain Resort decided to bring Laurel back to life this season, along with the DCNR of the State of Pennsylvania, it was time to promote it. I have told a lot of friends about my good times at Laurel and how they must try it. Like my two snowboarding friends, Tina and Mark Sauers who were totally enthralled with the area and the family feel to the place. img_1262

We have some challenges down here in the banana belt with the weather being on the edge of rain and snow. But credit Laurel with good snowmaking and grooming to make it possible for enthusiasts like me to get the most days out of rather dismal early winter conditions. I have a lot of good memories of skiing at Laurel back in the day including fun times with my son Jack and our visits to Fort Ligonier and the Pie Shop in Laughlintown at the bottom of the mountain. IMG00117-20100116-1123

Two years ago, Hiller, John McWilliams, Jeff Balicki and John O’Toole and yours truly used our snowshoes to hike into the closed area and after unloading our packs, took two runs down Lower Wildcat. Four hours plus of hiking for two runs was “having to have it” and it showed our devotion to an area which we all loved. It is so nice now to have Carl Skylling’s new Sky Trac chairlift instead of bootpacking to claim our vertical. IMG_1574photophotophoto

So if you are a local, get over to Laurel. You won’t regret it and if you are visiting, check it out. Lower Wildcat will surprise you even if you are a veteran of steep skiing from points beyond. I am so happy it is back. Hannes is probably up there smiling at all of us. Thanks for reading.

A Colonial Christmas

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I am a history nut and particularly the history of the Revolutionary days in this country. We here in Western Pennsylvania are fortunate in that a lot of the events that took place to shape the direction of the new nation took place right here in our region. I often daydream of what it would have been like to be an 18th century man. At this time of year, that daydream turned into a bright vision as I walked down the Duke of Gloucester street during my visits to Williamsburg, Virgina. 6c3139f39b95ad590a6b9fe3fffca04e

Wiliamsburg just might be one of the nicest places to visit during the Christmas season. Not only is it rich in history dating back to the 17th century but the reconstruction of historical sites make it seem like you are walking back in time. There were many nights when it was colder and  I walked the streets and talked to colonial dressed people standing beside an army stack of firewood burning brightly and warmly on the street corner. Their discussions of topics of revolutionary times not only made it seem real, but for visitors like me, it gave me great pleasure to see how it might have been had I lived in those days.
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Williamsburg is also famous at this time of year for their decorations on the doors of the shops and pubs and the Christmas decorations in general are exceptionally well done especially with a dusting of snow on the buildings and the streets. 605fd664dfc5584d478748da52c67ef3

One of my more vivid memories of those visits was to take in the Candlight concert series at Bruton Parish Church which was founded in 1674. When you come in from the cold and are greeted by candlelight and a choir from a visiting town, you can really get into the Christmas spirit absorbing the atmosphere and listening to the harmonies and the musical excellence of the chamber orchestras.

During warmer visits, I took my mountain bike and joined the evening rides with the shop guys from Bikes Unlimited ( 757-229-4620). You can call them for the ride schedules and can be treated to trail rides on the William and Mary campus trails as well as the Chambrel trails near by. The rides are always followed by a gathering of riders at the local Panera. These trails are twisty, turny, singletrack and although there are no measurable hills in the Tidewater region, they are challenging enough with the meandering trail construction. It is interesting to take a break on the campus of William and Mary and be facing a statue of Thomas Jefferson. Knowing that he attended here as a student and looking at his countenance was a treat to this history buff.

Sometimes history is lost on people. I had my family in Williamsburg one summer when it was 100 degrees. As I was extolling the virtues of Patrick Henry to my son as we heard his speech done by an actor, my son looked at me and said,” Hey dad- where is the pool.” Now there were no 18th century pools available but he eventually soaked his hot little bones in the hotel pool. My wife was looking for relief as well but all I could think about was ” give me liberty, or give me death.”

The Williamsburg Inn is the hallmark location to stay in the village. images-1
This is a beautiful hotel with first class amenities but the Williamsburg Lodge is another option if the budget for the Inn is not there. 806309_44_b

If I were to offer a suggestion, I would still stick by my recommendation for Williamsburg at Christmas time. If you get lucky with some snow and winter weather, you will really feel the colonial ambiance. Take it in and take a walk back in history. Thanks for reading.

A Real American Hero

I always respect anyone who is serving in the military. I have always respected and admired veterans who served in the armed forces and the sacrifices that they made to ensure our way of life here in the United States. As a history buff, I also value the place in our past that is reserved for veterans who made the ultimate sacrifice or those whose actions merited historical significance. There are many of these stories in our history and I wanted my son Jack to be aware that there was one of these stories right within his own family.
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One day, a few years back, there was an event at the Allegheny County Airport here in Pittsburgh where one could actually view and tour a B-24 bomber from World War II. My son and I stopped to pick up my Uncle Jack and when my son introduced himself and said, ” Hello, I am Jack McCloskey,” my Uncle responded ” No you are not, I’m Jack McCloskey.” My son giggled as we asked Uncle Jack or “Handsome Jack” as he liked to call himself how he was doing? He replied in his usual comical way,” First class, first class, at least that’s what the girls all say.” My son Jack giggled and off we went to the airport. slocum-b24-diamond-lil-up-close-2013-copy

When we arrived, my Uncle, who was in his 80’s, jumped up into the cockpit of the aircraft like he owned the plane. I asked Jack to keep an eye on him and don’t let him fall, but young Jack had a hard time keeping up the the old fella as he made his way through the plane explaining to everyone who would want to listen about the features of a B-24 bomber used in the Great War. You see, my uncle was the pilot of one of those planes and this is his story.

After flight school in the Army Air Corps, Handsome Jack became a pilot of a B-24 that provided support to the ground invasion of Italy during the Anzio Beach campaign. I can remember my uncle relating the tale of his 52 missions over the area returning to base every night with extensive flak damage to the fuselage caused by anti-aircraft gunners of the German Army. Imagine a young guy, I believe around 21 years old, being shot at every day and limping back to base awaiting repair of the aircraft only to fly out again the next day on another bombing mission. When I was 21, I was looking for my next cheeseburger. Times were different then and boys became men in a real hurry. Shortly after his 52nd mission, Handsome Jack was sent to his first mission in Rangoon, Burma and took Japanese anti aircraft fire and the plane was in peril. He assembled the crew and told them to prepare for bailout and as they all parachuted out of the burning craft, the B-24 hit the trees and exploded. My Uncle and his crew landed in the tall trees of the Burmese forest and made their way down to the base of the trees with my uncle breaking his back and his ankle. The Japanese were there waiting for them and immediately took them prisoner.

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The long and the short of it was that my uncle spent a year as a prisoner of war, keeping the crew’s spirit in tact by singing Irish songs and Christmas songs with his beautiful Irish tenor voice only to personally and eventually bury all of his crew. The British eventually bombed the camp and as my uncle fled for his life, waiving at the RAF frantically, they realized he was one of the prisoners and rescued him after a year in excruciating conditions of captivity. He made his way back to Bellevue, Pa., his home, much to the delight of my grandparents, my dad, and my aunts, who had given him up for dead. What a homecoming he had consuming a dozen eggs as his first meal back home with his family. Handsome Jack received the Distinguished Flying Cross and the Purple Heart for his heroism under the most grueling conditions. His positive attitude kept him alive not only during his Anzio campaign, but in the bowels of a Japanese POW camp in a remote part of the jungle.
As young Jack led Handsome Jack around the restored aircraft that day, I couldn’t help to think to myself that my son was witnessing history in the making. My uncle was in my mind, a real American hero. I was so glad that my son had the opportunity to meet my hero as his kind are leaving us rapidly these days with each passing year. My Uncle is no longer with us, but his memory is kept alive with every Irish song I hear and every tale I read about the bravery of our veterans in World War II. If you see anyone who has served in the military, take the time to thank them for their service.They will appreciate it. Thanks for reading.