Lehigh Valley Source

Snowbird in Paradise: A Continuing Series Part 5

The author at a fish-camp-turned-restaurant in
Jacksonville, Fla.
Photo courtesy of Keith Gery

By Keith Gery
Special to Lehigh Valley Source

The Quest for a Philly Cheesesteak
 
At the publishing company that hired me was a woman with whom I had worked in Pennsylvania about 15 years prior. She was the reason I ended up in Jacksonville, having told me to apply for this job while I was still in Pennsylvania. So she took it upon herself to show me around and introduce me to some of the Southern Delights.

After years of seeing cows walk in the back door of butcher shops and then carrying them out the front door wrapped in brown butcher paper, I was ready to try native cuisine. We left my apartment in Jacksonville’s southside, picked up 295 around the city and exited on one of the busiest thoroughfares I’d ever seen. With a few quick turns, we were suddenly on a parking lot surrounded by tall trees, the sound of water and a line waiting to get inside the former fish-camp-on-the-river-now-turned-public-restaurant. I paused to admire a fake alligator lying outside the door, while my friend went inside to reserve a table.

As we waited outside for our turn to be seated, we stood on a dock with pellet-filled vending machines. As I tried to figure out the pellets, huge black and orange turtles swam up to the dock area and begged for food. And a bigger-than-I’d-ever-imagined softshell turtle joined the crowd. Fish swarmed around the turtles, darting over and under the floating reptiles, wherever there was water to sustain them. It was Herpetology Heaven as I coaxed the turtles closer and watched them stretch their necks to grab the pellets before they sank down to the fish.

After reviewing the menu inside, I decided to chance fried catfish, gator tail, and a deep fried pickle, accompanied by the liquid sugar known as sweet tea. Although the deep-fried gator tail was nondescript in taste, the dipping sauce applied to it added a tangy flavor. I was hesitant about eating the catfish because I know what they eat. But after assurances that the menued catfish were farm-raised, I bit into the bony fillet and found a new fishy delight. I tasted the pickle, but I based my judgment on my mother’s canned pickles we always had in our basement. All in all, it was a superb dining experience.

After a couple days of experimenting with local dishes and relying on more familiar fast-food fare, my taste buds lit up for the familiarity of a cheesesteak. But I had no idea where to get one or if they were even available on this side of the Line. I began to panic, and my addiction to the hefty messy sandwich intensified as I began the quest for a real Philly cheesesteak. Little did I know at the time, but this adventure would continue for years in various corners of the state.

Throughout the Pennsylvania years at Brandywine Heights High School, Kutztown University, and my downtown Kutztown apartment, cheesesteaks were an all-inclusive food group. One cheesesteak accounted for grains and starch in the roll, meat group in the beef, dairy products in the cheese, and vegetables in the onions and peppers. There was even lycopene in the sauce for my prostate. And of course, the fifth food group of fats and sugars was always evident in the food remnants on the plate.

Mark’s Sandwich Shop in Kutztown was the main source of cheesesteaks for decades because of the quality and convenience. My frequent visits resulted in friendships with several owners over the years, but the excellence of the sandwiches remained constant. Of course, on weekends there were roadtrips to the Brass Rail locations throughout the Lehigh Valley for their legendary fare. As time went on and friends and I became more adventurous, trips to see the Flyers or Phillies always resulted in an actual PHILLY cheesesteak somewhere in South Philly near the stadiums.

Jacksonville, however, was sorely lacking in cheesesteak quality. Over the ensuing weeks and years, I searched for a true Philly cheesesteak throughout Florida, but everything paled to the memory of the real thing. Oh, one could find cheesesteaks on menus all over town. But they weren’t Philly cheesesteaks. They lacked the tasty sauce or the fried onions. Most of the time, the meat was not chipped, but was a patty on a bed of goop in a hard roll. Once I even got one with the liquid spray cheese all over it.

The closest one I found was on a trip to meet some Pennsylvania friends on the other side of the state in Clearwater, the spring training grounds of the Phillies. I missed my friends as they ventured someplace else to take in a game, so I went on a search as I had become prone to do. I found this hole-in-the-wall steak shop with a flashing red sign advertising Philly Cheesesteaks. It was near the home of the Phillies, so I ordered one and was pleasantly surprised at how near it came to the real thing, but it really only made me homesick for the real thing. Close, but no cigar.

With all the northerners coming to Florida for games, vacations, and retirements, one would expect to find an exact version of a Philly cheesesteak. I couldn’t find one anywhere, but I never gave up. Every diner, restaurant, deli, and bar I visited became a stop in my search for the real cheesesteak. Sometimes I’d finish the sandwich, many times I couldn’t. My expectations far outweighed my hunger.
There was a chicken place I frequented in Jacksonville because it had a vast assortment of flavors and temperatures in the wings. Also, it was kind of a Hooters rip-off, so the scantily-clad female servers did provide a nice distraction.

Many times I had looked at the menu, but on one particular occasion I noticed the addition of Philly cheesesteaks. With a sigh, I mentioned to my server that I’d like to try it, but I expected total disappointment, like in every other eating establishment I’d visited in Florida. She questioned my negative attitude, and I explained I was hard to please on the cheesesteaks because I was from “north of Philly.” (I had already given up saying I was from Topton, Kutztown, Reading, or Allentown. “North of Philly” was something that seemed to give these folks some sort of geographical reference.)

She smiled, said the new chef was from the Philadelphia area, and yanked him out of the kitchen. I explained my dilemma, and he peacocked his chest with a great smile.

“I can make you the perfect cheesesteak,” he pontificated. “I’m from West Chester, P – A. Went to college in West Chester, P – A.”

The very act of using the Pennsylvanian term for Pennsylvania excited me. I was ecstatic, virtually orgasmic. My cheesesteak quest appeared to be over, and the answer was within two miles of my apartment.

“I’ll take a cheesesteak . . . the biggest one you have,” I drooled. “No, no . . . I’ll take two. Wrap one to go. The biggest you have. Everything on them.”

“Onions?” asked the chef.

I nodded.

“Peppers?” asked the chef.

“The hottest you have!” I screamed, already sweating in anticipation.

“Cheese?” he asked.

Bells started going off in my head. I ordered a CHEESE steak, so of course I wanted cheese. And then it happened.

“Did you want mayo?” he asked.

“Mayo?  On a cheesesteak?” I asked. “Did you say mayo?”

He nodded, and I realized how close I had come to being hoodwinked again, suckered in by the delirium of my hunt.

“Give me a basket of wings,” I said, as I turned my back on the grease-covered charlatan in white and looked out the window at the huge lake in back of the restaurant.

Somewhere, out there, was a real Philly cheesesteak, and I would find it. For the sake of every snowbird down here, I would not rest until I found a real Philly cheesesteak.

I grabbed my basket of wings and watched the waitress wiggle away from the table.

Copyright 2009 Keith Gery

Cedar Crest College Inaugurates its13th President

Carmen Twillie Ambar was inaugurated as 13th
president of Cedar Crest College, Allentown, during
ceremonies held on campus on Friday, Oct. 23.
Following the declaration of her presidency, Ambar
received a standing ovation. Among honored guests
joining Ambar on the dias were Lehigh County
Commissioner Don Cunningham, Allentown Mayor
Ed Pawlowski, State Rep. Jennifer Mann, and
Lehigh University President Alice P. Gast.
Photo by Diana Morse

By DIANA MORSE
Of Lehigh Valley Source

Carmen Twillie Ambar shared her vision for a “reconstruction” of Cedar Crest College at her Friday, Oct. 23, inauguration as the institution’s 13th president.

The college’s first new president in 20 years said her objective is “to reshape the world, one Cedar Crest College student at a time.”

“We are not going to do ‘the same old thing,’ ” she said. “We must embrace the women’s  college status that our graduates are disproportionately high achievers.”

Ambar, who holds degrees from Georgetown and Princeton universities, credited her parents for her success.

“In our home, we had a saying: ‘Plow to the end of your row,’ ” she said. “Here, we've all agreed to do the same--trustees, administrators, and students.”

Susan Everitt Hudgins (’64), chairwoman of Cedar Crest College’s board of trustees, administered the oath of office to Ambar, who received a lengthy standing ovation and cheers.

Carmen Twillie Ambar addresses guests during her inauguration.
Photo by Diana Morse

Muhlenberg’s ‘Bat Boy’ Production Lacks Bite; Actor in Title Role Steals Show

By STEVE SIEGEL
Special to Lehigh Valley Source

Allentown, Pa. -- Poor, misunderstood “Bat Boy”--doomed to inhabit a murky realm as distant from the high camp of “Rocky Horror Picture Show” as from the musical cleverness of “Little Shop of Horrors.” Although the cast of Muhlenberg College’s production of the quirky musical--which opened at New York’s Union Square Theatre in 2001--seemed to give it their best shot, “Bat Boy: The Musical” simply lacks bite.

The tale begins deep inside a cave near the small town of Hope Falls, W.Va., where three siblings of the Taylor clan find and capture a strange batlike creature that is brought to the home of local veterinarian Dr. Thomas Parker, played by Eric Thompson. Bat Boy, splendidly played by Jeramie F. Mayes--complete with Vulcan ears and pointy teeth--is eventually transformed from a menacing beast that can make only batlike shrieks into a debonair lad with the diction of a Shakespearean actor.

In fact, this Bat Boy could teach the entire cast a thing or two about vocal delivery and elocution, which is mostly missing in this production. While none of the vocals are particularly strong, Denise Ozer, as Meredith Parker, has some moving moments, notably in “A Home for You,” a duet with Mayes. Leah Holleran is outstanding as the Parkers’ daughter Shelley, who falls in love with Bat Boy and has some notable vocal moments of her own.

Bat Boy’s education by the Parkers occurs during a single, hilarious musical number that clearly evokes Henry Higgins and Eliza Doolittle, and ends with his speaking in an impeccable British accent. Aided by Karen Dearborn’s clever, fast-paced choreography, it’s one of the best parts of the production.

It is Mayes who steals this show. His remarkable athleticism, scurrying about the stage, even hanging upside down in his cage, makes us truly believe he is some sort of cross-species. Of course, Bat Boy is doomed, being falsely accused by the villainous Dr. Parker of two deaths and the plight of the town’s emaciated cows. When we learn the secret of Bat Boy’s true parentage--unfortunately, via a sequence that’s humorous but overly long--we know his fate. The play is, after all, a tongue-and-cheek morality tale, in which each viewer is expected to discover his or her own inner “Bat Boy.”

It takes a serious approach to acting to make musical comedy work. Unfortunately,   director Beth Schachter allows most of the town’s characters to be played with slapstick, superficial nonchalance. Exceptions are Gabriel Martinez’s hilarious delivery as Rev. Hightower, Mrs. Taylor, and the Institute Man, who is summoned to take Bat Boy away, but arrives too late.

The score’s musical numbers are tuneful, if not particularly memorable, and were competently played by the five-piece orchestra, under the direction of Ken Butler. The set, designed by Anya Klepikov, consists of multi-tiered scaffolding winding between two craggy peaks. It comfortably serves as a cave, the Parkers’ living room, and a tent for a religious revival meeting.

“Bat Boy: The Musical” runs at 8 p.m. on Oct. 24 and 28-31 as well as at 2 p.m. on Oct. 25, 31, and Nov. 1 at Muhlenberg College’s Baker Theatre. Tickets are $20 for adults and $7 for students. For information or tickets, visit www.muhlenberg.edu/tickets or phone 484-664-3333.

Steve Siegel is a freelance writer, who lives in Fogelsville, Pa.

Public Invited to Free Author Talk, Mini Tour of Bethlehem's Flat Iron Building

The Flat Iron Building was designed by A.W. Leh.
Photo by John Kish IV

Bethlehem, Pa. -- The public is invited to a free talk by author Ken Raniere and a mini tour of Bethlehem's Flat Iron Building from 2 to 4 p.m. on Saturday, Oct. 24, 2009, at Stone Soup Studio, 301 Broadway, South Bethlehem.

Raniere, who lives in Coopersburg, is author of “A Living Legacy: Architecture of A.W. Leh,” (Moon Trail Books, 2009). The Flat Iron Building was designed by A.W. Leh (1848-1918) during the turn of the century Industrial Era.

“A.W. Leh created a good part of the architectural backdrop against which the dramas of people’s daily lives here in Bethlehem were played out,” says Raniere.

Raniere has spent nearly two years researching Leh, who designed more than 250 buildings across the Lehigh Valley, New Jersey, and Philadelphia. Buildings designed by Leh within the city of Bethlehem are numerous and include Ambre’ Studio, Broughal Middle School, Moravian College’s Comenius Hall, Landmark Commons, the New Reformed Church, and Main Street Commons, formerly Orr’s Department Store.

The book’s photographer is John Kish IV.

For more information, call Stone Soup Studio at 610-867-4626.

Origins of Biblical Monotheism Subject of Lafayette College Lecture

Easton, Pa. -- Mark S. Smith, Skirball Professor of Bible and professor of Hebrew and Judaic studies at New York University (NYU), will speak on “God and the Origins of Biblical Monotheism” at 7:30 p.m. on Monday, Oct. 26, in the auditorium of Kirby Hall of Civil Rights, Lafayette College. The admission-free event is open to the public.

In his talk, Smith will demonstrate that, despite the common view that Israel was monotheistic, the worship of a single god developed in a particular historical and social context in the 6th or 7th century BCE. Early Israel actually had a pantheon of gods first conceived as a divine family, and that pantheon changed over time. The monotheistic model emerged as a reflection in the divine sphere of a remarkable new mode of social and political identification on the human plane. The power of this model resulted in collective amnesia: Israel forgot its polytheistic origins, barely reflected in the Bible as we know it.

Smith’s areas of interest and expertise include the history of Israelite and ancient Near Eastern religion, the representation of deities and divinity in the Hebrew Bible and the ancient Near East from the Bronze Age to the Greco-Roman period, narrative literature of the Hebrew Bible and West Semitic texts, and Ugaritic literature and religion.

He is the author of “The Memoirs of God: History, Memory, and the Experience of God in Ancient Israel” (Fortress Press, 2004); “The Origins of Biblical Monotheism: Israel’s Polytheistic Background and the Ugaritic Texts” (Oxford University Press, 2001); and The Early History of God: Yahweh and the Other Deities in Ancient Israel” (Harper & Row, 1990), in addition to many other scholarly publications.

Smith is a two-time recipient of NYU’s Golden Dozen Award for Excellence in Undergraduate Teaching and received the Frank Moore Cross Publications Award from the American Schools of Oriental Research, among other awards and accolades.

In addition to a Ph.D. from Yale, he earned three master’s degrees at Harvard Divinity School and one from Catholic University. He did his undergraduate work at Johns Hopkins.

The talk is sponsored by Lafayette’s department of religious studies through the support of the Lyman Coleman Fund.

The department also will bring Robert Segal, professor of religious studies at the University of Aberdeen in Scotland, to campus to speak on “Hollywood Stars as Gods: Bringing Myth Back to the World” at 7:30 p.m. on Wednesday, Nov. 11, in Kirby Hall.

Snowbird in Paradise: A Continuing Series Part 4

By Keith Gery
Special to Lehigh Valley Source

“Wherever he laid his hat was his home.” – The Temptations

Jacksonville, Fla., is the largest city in the 48 contiguous states in terms of geographic area. If Alaska is removed from the mix, Jacksonville would be the largest city in the country. Back in 1968, the city and Duval County consolidated governmental functions. According to the U.S. Census in 2000, more than 1 million people inhabited the Jacksonville MSA, while more than 735,000 called the city proper home. That number had probably swollen by my arrival in 2005.

After a few nights in the hotel and accepting a job offer at the publishing company, it was time to find a real place to live. Someone at the publishing company referred me to an apartment search agency that helped people relocate. The business was like an employment agency, but found apartments instead of jobs. I’m sure the placement agents received a commission for their efforts, so it seemed obvious they would find me a place rather quickly, and at a price that suited them more than me.

Searching for the office, I awoke to the nightmare known as “driving in Jacksonville.”  It didn’t take long to discover that one can find a road to anywhere except where one is going, traffic patterns were foreign to me and drivers did everything they could to make other drivers another endangered species in the state.

Coming from the north with its older established highway systems that didn’t have to account for the constant land development or presence of water in one form or another, I bemoaned the absence of the “city block.” No longer could I get lost in traffic and just keep making three turns to end up exactly where I’d started before I got lost and re-think where I was going.

Designed to keep traffic on the main roads moving while vehicles make turns, service roads are passages off of – but parallel to – the main roads, presenting entry into shopping centers, developments and apartment complexes. These tricky right lanes and corresponding exits kept snaring me into watching the main road lead out of sight while I drove into places I didn’t want to be.

And then there were the street-naming road signs at intersections which presented a peculiar difficulty. The road on one side of the intersection bore a name different from the same road on the other side of the intersection; in the north, roads intersected, but generally kept the same name on both sides of the cross. This double naming meant reading two road signs instead of one, which caused me to slow down and receive a blaring horn from everybody except the Riverboat Captain.

However, the rental folks gave me decent directions and mid-morning traffic was considerate of my ignorance, so I arrived at the office in decent time.

“What kind of residence are you looking to rent?” was the obvious first question posed by the rental agent. I hadn’t really given prior thought to it because my time was preoccupied with nailing down the job.

In Kutztown, Pennsylvania, I had rented a small two-story brick house for about seven years and the rent never went up during my tenure. It was a comfortable place located in the middle of town. The landlady was terrific, her husband could fix anything, and heat and water were included in the $375 per month rent on a month-to-month lease. The only drawbacks were the continuous noise of the main drag nearby and the malicious hijinks of academic-year neighbors belonging to the local university. Other than that, it had been perfect for me.

As I explained my northern living situation to the agent in front of me, I began to notice other rental agents leaning over their desks and out of their cubicles to give a listen. My ego told me I must be pretty interesting so I went into infinitesimal details about the wonderful place I left behind.
That house being my frame of reference for so many years prior, I asked the rental people to help me find something similar in a like price range.

The chorus of chuckles was overshadowed by the silence of rolling eyes and open-mouthed vacant stares. Then I was reminded I was in Florida, and the rental agent started rattling off apartment rents per month to the tune of $1100, $1350 and $1400. The higher-priced ones included a washer and dryer setup. An even more expensive apartment had a fireplace, the agent gushed.

I started wondering where I’d chop wood for the fireplace even if I was able to afford that apartment. And what’s up with a fireplace in Florida anyway? Then I calculated a trip to the laundromat costing $12, maybe $15, on a weekly basis and whether the washer-dryer apartment was cost-effective or not. I couldn’t do the math on that one.

After explaining that I wanted to rent and not take out a mortgage at those prices, I blurted out what I was willing to spend. I was sent to a complex toward the bottom of the availability list.

Again fortune smiled upon me and a one-bedroom first-floor apartment had immediate occupancy. Everything I owned was still in the car, so I unloaded the trunk as soon as I was given a key.

After one more night in the hotel, I spent the next two days furnishing the place. But having paid out a small fortune for furniture deliveries, I truly missed all those pickup trucks most of my back-home friends drove. I vowed never again to tell my Pennsylvania buddies that a pickup should be used only to haul downer cattle to the veterinarian and not to transport their families to dinner.

The publishing company had not yet heard from my background check, but I had filled a urine bottle previously and passed that with flying colors. So we agreed on a start date for the following week pending receipt of the necessary information under wait.

The cat had already explored every corner of his new home, located his litter box and found his food dish. I followed suit and did the same.

In the span of four days, I had made the trip from Pennsylvania to Florida, secured a job and found a place to live – with a few days off to spare. Life was good for the first time since my last Pennsylvania unemployment check.

Little did I know what was in store for me.

Copyright 2009 Keith Gery

Operation Free Veterans for American Power Bus Tour to Visit Pa.

Pennsylvania -- Military veterans are traveling across the country on a 21-state bus tour to talk to citizens and local community leaders about the dangers of climate change and its threat to national security. The tour will make stops in Pennsylvania Tuesday-Thursday, Oct. 20-22, 2009.
 
The tour is sponsored by Operation Free, a coalition of veterans and national security groups working to raise public awareness about national security threats posed by climate change and the importance of building a clean-energy economy that is not tied to fossil fuels. 

 Operation Free and its members support a clean-energy plan that cuts carbon pollution, develops clean-energy incentives, and puts America in control of its energy future.  
 
Pennsylvania Tour Schedule
 
Pittsburgh:
Veterans will hold a press conference, take a tour of the Oakland Veterans Hospital, and have dinner and toast to veterans in Pittsburgh.
5:15 p.m. Tuesday, Oct. 20
Pittsburgh Jobs Corps Center, 7175 Highland Drive
Tour of Oakland Veterans Hospital at 4 p.m.
 
Harrisburg:
Veterans will host a breakfast roundtable with local veterans and a press conference with officials, including Paul Bachman, Central PA Building Trades President, and Terry Peck, UA Local 520 Business Manager. They will then take a tour of a local job-training site with union members.
11 a.m. Wednesday, Oct. 21 (press conference)
Capitol Rotunda, 228 Walnut St.
 
Philadelphia:
Veterans will host a town hall with State Rep. Brian Lentz.
6:30 p.m. Wednesday, Oct. 21
Philadelphia City Hall, Mayor's Reception Room (Room 202)
Enter through Northeast entrance of City Hall, near intersection of Juniper and Market streets
 
Scranton:
Veterans will host a press conference with local citizens.
10:15 a.m. Thursday, Oct. 22
Civil War Memorial, N. Washington Avenue and Spruce Street

Phillipsburg Native Reads from His New Book at Borders in Whitehall

Author David Hajdu, a native of Phillipsburg, N.J.,
and music critic for The New Republic magazine,
read excerpts from his latest book, "Heroes and
Villains," at Borders bookstore, Whitehall Township.
Author of three previous books on music, Hajdu is
on the firstleg of a book tour that will criss-cross the
country.
Photo by Steve Andres

By STEVE ANDRES
Special to Lehigh Valley Source

Author David Hajdu didn’t need a guidance counselor to steer him toward a career path. He saw the light at an early age. His moment of clarity came courtesy of his father, Charlie, who tinkered with the wiring in the family home, providing the Hajdu household with a unique amenity.

“My father had rigged the wiring in the house so that when you turned on the light switch, the radio went on,” said Hajdu. “There was always music on.”

From that marriage of amps and arias, Hajdu found himself hurtling toward a life of commenting on popular culture, a journey that’s had a number of stops, including editorial stints at Entertainment Weekly and Video Review magazines. He is also the author of four books; his latest--“Heroes and Villains”--brought him to Borders bookstore in Whitehall Township for an admission-free discussion and signing on Saturday, Oct. 10, 2009.

“Heroes and Villains” is a collection of essays that examines the lives and contributions of famous as well as forgotten figures that inhabit the pop culture landscape.

As a scion of 1960s pop culture, Hajdu remembers being immersed in music, comic books, and film while growing up in Phillipsburg, N.J. He didn’t dismiss it as a fly-by-night fascination. Hajdu felt that popular culture is subject matter worth exploring and writing about, giving it the same gravitas as politics or science. However, he knew that it also carried a stigma.

“Popular culture too often is mistaken for being mere entertainment,” said Hajdu. “It has a deep influence in the way we think and act.”

Hajdu referenced the ascendancy of Barack Obama as evidence of that influence, noting his coronation as both president and pop star. 

“The fact that he’s a pop star is part of the reason he became president,” said Hajdu. “We shouldn’t laugh at that or deny it.”

Because Hajdu is a long-time critic for The New Republic, many of the essays he penned for that publication appear in “Heroes and Villains.” The exception is the lead article about Billy Eckstine, which Hajdu wrote exclusively for the book. 

And it’s in this essay that Hajdu examines the reason that such a legendary talent like Eckstine has been relegated to obscurity. The author believes that Eckstine--a person once more popular than Frank Sinatra--was both blessed and cursed. He was blessed with a world of talent, but cursed by a world that didn’t accept him, largely because of a photo that appeared in Life magazine during the 1950s.

“Life ran a picture [of Eckstine] surrounded by his fans, who were young, white women,” said Hajdu. “And that one image virtually ended his career.”

That image, said Hajdu, effectively consigned Eckstine to smaller gigs because his unabashed machismo was deemed threatening.

Hajdu also spoke about Col. Tom Parker, Elvis Presley's manager--who was neither a colonel nor southern--and who ensured his profits by selling both “I love Elvis” and “I hate Elvis” buttons at venues where “The King” was performing.

For Hajdu, life and music are inextricably intertwined. He’s devoted his life to writing about the heroes and villains that have crossed his critical eye. And with many of the essays devoted to musicians, Hajdu and his wife, singer Karen Oberlin, brought the songs mentioned in his writings to life. Oberlin sang three songs as Hajdu accompanied her on guitar, leading off the set with “Dream a Little Dream of Me,” which is featured in a story about jazz singer Susannah McCorkle.

Hajdu will continue to criss-cross the country in support of the book.

Steve Andres is a freelance writer, who lives in Whitehall Township.

Singer Karen Oberlin performs songs connected to David Hajdu's "Heroes and Villains" book. She began with "Dream a Little Dream of Me," which is featured in Hajdu’s essay about Susannah McCorkle. Accompanying Oberlin on guitar is Hajdu, who is also her husband.
Photo by Steve Andres

Deadline Extended for Pigeon Photographs and Videos for Lafayette College Art Exhibit

Easton, Pa.--Deadline is now December 1; submissions will be added while the exhibit is on display October 26-December 1

Photographs and videos of pigeons are being sought from the public for an exhibition in Lafayette College’s Williams Center Art Gallery. The deadline to submit materials for consideration has been extended to December 1. Organizers are hoping to gather images of all types of pigeon breeds, including fancy, racing, other domestics, wild, and urbanized rock doves. The photographs and videos selected will be included in the exhibit From Scales to Feathers: The Evanescent Presence of Sculpted Wings in the Williams Art Gallery October 26-December 10. Images and videos will be added throughout the exhibition.

The art exhibit is in honor of Charles Darwin’s 200th birthday and the 150th anniversary of the publication of his work, On the Origin of Species, which is being celebrated in a yearlong series of events at Lafayette. Lafayette’s art exhibit coincides with a joint exhibition at Shrewsbury Museum in Shropshire, England, Darwin’s birthplace.

The two exhibits feature pieces by international artist Brandon Ballengée, whose work combines biology and art. He has studied the decline of amphibians and physical abnormalities in amphibians in both America and the United Kingdom. His goal is to use art to involve people in science. For a past project, Ballengée received thousands of images of migratory birds from people all over the world, which were exhibited in 2006 at the Arsenal Gallery in New York’s Central Park.

Photographs and videos chosen for the Lafayette exhibition will be presented on video screens mounted in the window openings of a pigeon loft created by eco-artist Ballengée.

Darwin studied pigeons and the long records of pigeon breeders, bred pigeons himself, and visited pigeon clubs while formulating his theory on natural selection. Darwin donated his collection of pigeon skeletons and skins to the Natural History Museum in London. Ballengée served as artist-in-residence at the National History Museum, where he photographed Darwin’s personal collection of specimens and manipulated the images to look like watercolors.

Lafayette senior Sydney Peyser and Lew Minter, director of Lafayette’s art department media lab, are printing 39 of Ballengée’s photographs, 21 of which will be on display at the Shewsbury Museum and the rest at Lafayette.

To participate in Lafayette’s exhibition, submit images and video by December 1, 2009. Videos should be no longer than 90 seconds. The submitter must be the original creator of the work(s) or own the copyright, or have the right to grant these permissions. By submitting photographs and videos the artist agrees to allow use of these materials in the exhibition From Scales to Feathers, in Lafayette’s publications—both print and electronic media, and for publicity purposes connected with the exhibition. The images can be cropped if necessary. The images will not be used for commercial purposes without written permission of the copyright holder.

Photographs and videos can be submitted online using yousendit.com (http://dropbox.yousendit.com/MichikoOkaya446173) or pigeonphotos@yahoo.com. CDs or DVDs with photos or videos may be sent to Lafayette College Art Gallery, Williams Center for the Arts, Easton, Pa. 18042. Please include the photographer’s or videographer’s name, email address, and telephone number on the separate use agreement form or in an email, as well as the date and location of the photograph, and any information known about the pigeon(s) featured.

Full details and instructions are included in the Pigeon Photographs and Videos Use Agreement on the art gallery’s web page: www.lafayette.edu/williamsgallery. Questions may be sent to artgallery@lafayette.edu or call Lafayette’s Williams Center Art Gallery at (610) 330-5361.

Snowbird in Paradise: A Continuing Series Part 3

By Keith Gery
Special to Lehigh Valley Source

Highway Hypnosis can drive you nuts.

Way back in high school I read an article on highway hypnosis, and it has stuck with me for some reason. Quite simply, it is the term describing the mental state which allows a long-distance driver to concentrate on other things while still retaining the ability to safely and effectively operate a vehicle at the same time.

It’s a stark contrast from cell phone drivers who weave their tortoise-cars through traffic so they can concentrate on the conversation. Highway hypnosis seems to allow for immediate reaction if necessary. The science behind this is unknown to me, so you might want to check it out with a more authoritative source.

I had long ago passed the imaginary halfway point of the trip, the temporal-spatial point of equidistance between where I’d been and where I was going. The relatively short I-95 drive through pre-dawn Georgia, with endless miles of same-speed straight and the gas pedal held down by a foot long void of feeling, allowed highway hypnosis to take over.

The grim reality of my lack of planning unfolded in my mind – this was neither a vacation nor an adventure; it was a search for a job, an address, a life. All of it seemed to be in Florida, but there was not one single guarantee.

The job interview in Jacksonville was not really an interview. “Let us know when you get in state and we’ll talk” was what they said days earlier on the phone. Did they give me a day and a time or not? I didn’t even have the street address of the publishing company that was considering taking me on. I had nothing except the switchboard phone number. What if … what if…and I began to grow anxious and sink into deeper thoughts.

It had been awhile since I read “On the Road,” so I smiled at Jack Kerouac’s exuberance over his cross-country trips to join up with those “mad” for life. And there was Neal Cassady’s staccato need to keep moving, to experience everything because life always seemed too short and too harsh. I stomped on the gas to see if I’d experience any of it myself.

Visions of “Easy Rider” flashed through my brain. Although the movie was dated and tracked the motorcycle odyssey of two hippies traveling from the West Coast to Mardi Gras, it still held a somber message. I remembered the tagline for the movie: “A man went looking for America … And couldn’t find it anywhere.” My route was different, but I wondered what America had in store for me nearly 40 years later. People had changed since that movie … or had they?

What would the locals make of my longer hair and full beard? And would my Pennsylvania Dutch accent make me stand out in conversations? I was wearing a T-shirt with a famous cartoon bunny emblazoned on the front. Was I crazy wearing this to enter the big mouse’s backyard? And being so close to the home of America’s space program, would they bury me at sea if they discovered my theories that man never really landed on the moon?

A Pennsylvania pastor friend who had an early-career ministry somewhere in north Florida once opined that it was easier to vacation or retire in Florida than it was to work and reside there. It sure was a hell of a time to remember that nugget.

Florida is one of a handful of states – seven last time I checked – that has no personal income tax. All things being equal, that translated into an approximate 3 percent raise on Pennsylvania wages. That’s if all things were equal. The cost of living differential was something that had escaped me in my zeal to leave Pennsylvania. What if they offered me the exact same money I earned in Pennsylvania, only to find out that I couldn’t afford the fast-food dollar menu?

The cat was lying in the rear window, and I started worrying about him. Did he know that many of the birds in Florida are predators? We aren’t talking robins and sparrows here. As graceful and elegant as they are, herons feast on baby gators. Should I warn him about the infamous palmetto bug that grows to be the size of a compact car and squeezes out of the smallest cracks in the wall in a bloodlust for cats prowling the nighttime apartment?

What was I thinking when I started this fiasco trip? I wasn’t thinking, that was the problem.

Like a beautiful rainbow of Joseph-coat colors looming out of the early morning sun appeared a sign that said “Welcome to Florida.”

I pulled into the welcome area to discover that the facility didn’t open for about 30 minutes more. But the temporary madness was gone and I caught a mental second wind. I got out of the Chevy to stretch my legs, just in time to attract an old couple from a nearby car.

“Is that cat in the window alive or fake?” drawled the old guy. “I been behind you on the pike pretty near an hour, and that cat’s been staring at me the whole time.”

At the sound of my laughter, the cat crawled lazily to the front seat and meowed wearily. The old woman pointed at my Pennsylvania tag, smiled at the cat and said, “What a brave cat you have … after all that distance.” I nodded, and they were gone.

A gentle female voice answered my call to the publishing company. She told me that they were expecting me, the company had reserved a room for me for a couple days, and gave me directions to the office so I could pick up the papers to check into the hotel.

“Will you be needing a cup of coffee and a snack when you get here?” she asked.

“I’d like that, thanks,” I said, and got back in the car.

The cat was eyeballing a spear-beaked bird with swizzle-stick legs standing under a nearby palmy growth I didn’t recognize.

“Welcome to Florida,” I said as the cat crawled back to his rear-window perch.

Copyright 2009 Keith Gery