Hi to all my readers of this exciting and thought provoking issue of this bi-weekly newsletter, The CORNERSTONE TRAVELER. Also available online at www.cornerstonetraveler.com.

mid-Hudson Valley news: The past two weeks have felt like a row of huge dominoes crashing down on this area with the repeat snow storms hitting the Hudson Valley. As bad as it appears to us, it is not as bad as in Boston Mass. where my son Justine lives. In less than a week they got over six feet of snow. They believe it is worse than the blizzard of ‘78, where I lived through in Methuen Mass. a year and a half after my marriage. Then it was three feet of snow in less than 24 hours. Governor Dukakis ordered everyone to stay home and off the streets except for police, firefighters and emergency personnel.
But New England, Boston in particular got over six feet of snow in less than a week.
I admit when I lived for twenty-six years in northern Mass. I got used to huge storms, but the twelve years since I have moved back to New York where I was raised in the last century (millennium), I find it hard to deal with the huge amounts of snow fall.
What can I do or say, but remember what Doris Day sang “Que Sera, Sera” (What will be will be.)
That’s about it for mid-Hudson Valley news or at least the weather portion.

observations: I heard that dip weed, Rush Limbaugh, rant against the weather watchers, meteorologists, on their predictions of a great snow storm what was to hit New York City. It missed New York City by fifty miles to the east. New York City only saw a few inches of snow, where Eastern Long Island got clobbered by the snow fall.
Limbaugh did his usual and politicized the National Weather Service by insisting the National Weather Service is run by a bunch of left leaning liberals and they only issued the weather storm warning to spout their view of climate change.
The storm traveled over 1,500 miles and missed new York City by fifty miles. The dip weed, Limbaugh, said nothing of how hard New England was hit. Could it be that Massachusetts is a liberal state that he couldn’t be bothered of the huge snow fall in Boston?
The National Weather Service did not see the devastation of super storm Sandy that almost devastated the New York city subways, parts of Long Island and New Jersey. Was this failure the fault of the left liberal thought? The European Weather Agency saw the possible effects of Storm Sandy.
Boston where my son lives was hit super hard by this snow event. But Limbaugh couldn’t be bothered by this. He only wanted to criticize the National Weather Service under a Democratic Presidency.
This shows the tunnel vision and blind sided thinking of fat Limbaugh.
How can anyone make so much money (35 million at last count) with being so wrong?
Kinda makes you think, don’t you agree?

sports: The preseason of Major League Baseball starts with spring training starting in about ten days.
The Knicks and Nets are still struggling in the middle and the bottom of the Atlantic Division of the Eastern Conference of the NBA. The Knicks are 26 games back with a record of 10-43. The Nets are 12 ½ games back with a record of 21-31.
The Islanders are still at the top of the Metro Division of the Eastern Conference. With a record of 36-19-1 . The Rangers are 12 points back with a record of 34-15-5 in the same division.

other: As with all previous issues of this newsletter, everything printed here is either copyright protected or copyright pending.
The history of P&G’s follows this newsletter from about the mid 1930’s to almost the present.
The short story that follows this history is called WIND DANCERS . This story appears of my book of short stories called COSMIC WHISPERER I hope you like it.

Thank-you – Rik McGuire

History of P&G’s continued to the present

From 1925 – 1945 a number of diverse businesses occupied the building. These included Carols Clothing Store, Atkins Drug Store, Schaffert Real Estate Office, Marie Shop and Dicks Bar and Grill among others.
In 1947 Dicks Bar and Grill was purchased by two Lake Mohonk employees, Pat Cafferty and George Jayne. Legend has it that neither told their wives of their intention to purchase the business. They immediately changed the Grills name to Pat and Georges. Among it’s loyal customers it was simply P&G’s.
One of the best things to happen to P&G’s occurred in 1961. An ex Dodger player named Stormer Nickerson became a bartender. Stormy as he was affectionately known became something of a legend. His heart, quiet good humor and generous spirit made P&G’s the one place that welcomed all from the harsher outside world into a refuge for college students, business people, local characters and even for a while, in the 1960’s, bikers. According to one source. “They weren’t as rowdy a crew as you might expect because although he was quiet, Stormy commanded and got respect.” His professional baseball background made him a natural to pitch batting practice for the New Paltz College teams and he did so for a number of seasons. One college fraternity considered P&G’s their private domain. The scene of everything important, news, views, camaraderie and especially humor was always evident at P&G’s.
After the St. Helens volcano erupted and news reports discussed the possibility of ash fall out across the U.S., Stormy came to work to find the staff dressed in garbage bags and metal kitchen colanders on their heads. Since no ash was reported on anyone, Stormy reasoned the
attire had been affective by making everyone laugh their ash off.
In June 1991, after 30 years, Stormy retired from P&G’s. He died in June of 1994. From his casual humor that lingers, to his Chile recipe that is still served and the kind memories often repeated by his many friends, Stormy is still here.
In 1969 Edwin Beck bought P&G’s. His first weekend as owner was completely successful. The following weekend, however, the place was deserted. A disheartened Beck couldn’t understand what he had done to alienate everyone so quickly. He was relieved to learn it was simply a matter of poor timing. Everyone was away and wallowing in a farm in Bethel NY. A music festival or something.
Ed Beck never spent time worrying. He looked across Main Street and up Platekill Avenue, seeing thousands of thirsty college students who, for the most part remained on campus. Taking a good supply of liquid refreshment, Beck went to the campus and gave the students (all legal in those days) a new place to call home. He transformed P&G’s from a neighborhood bar into a local institution.
The face of Beck’s personality had much to do with the continued success of P&G’s, the place was fun. One oft quoted story about Beck concerns a young P&G’s enthusiast who wanted to be just like Beck when he grew up. It is reported that Beck in all humility replied. “Well you can’t do both.”
The name Pat and Georges was officially changed to P&G’s in the 1980’s by Ed Beck and his son Mike. In 1985, Mike bought out his fathers interest. In 1994, he undertook extensive renovations, making the building exterior appear as it did in 1900, when it was the Casino.

The Wind Dancers
I had first met the Wind Dancers a year and a half ago at a Native festival. I was writing a short piece for a local newspaper about the festival. The editors of the paper were intrigued by the reason for the festival. A time to honor the war dead of the native peoples. They wanted me to write of this new and novel concept.
I first met with J-miah, one of the Wind Dancers. We had met at a picnic table over a cup of apple bark coffee, a coffee specially brewed by his people, the Ondega people from Maine. He didn’t look like a native American, but he assured me he was of the Ondega people. He called himself J-miah, definitely not a native name, he had to spell it out and explain how he came about that name. It seems a friend of his when he was a young boy had a stuttering problem and couldn’t pronounce Jeremiah without stuttering and the name J-miah came about.
I was impressed with the way he was dressed. He wore leggings that looked supple and comfortable with moccasins and a tunic with the image of a crow or raven flying to the sun on the front and flying away from the sun on the back. I asked J-miah the meaning behind the image on his tunic. He explained it was the sign of his being. I was and looked confused and he explained further.
“I am.” He said. “A Wind Dancer. I can see and communicate with the spirits of the dead.”
“You talk to the dead?” I asked incredulously.
He only smiled and nodded. “It is difficult to understand or even believe, but believe me I can. I was taught to do this by my soul partner. She taught all I needed to know, or so I thought until I met Grey Wolf, our spirit guide. I learned that I will continue to learn with each spirit I communicate with.”
It was at this point a beautiful and I mean gorgeous woman appeared by his side and smiled at me. She was a gorgeous creature with long black hair that came down past her bare shoulders and she wore supple animal skin clothing that covered her, but only barely. She had such a sweet smile, and I was immediately in love.
“Hi.” She smiled, extending her hand towards me. “My name is Qurwam and I heard my soul mate, my love, explain his and my existence as Wind Dancers. I am here to help him with his explanation of who and what we are.”
I was envious and intrigued. I immediately reached into my ever present bag, grabbed my notebook and pen. I explained I was a struggling writer with a local newspaper and wanted to know more of Wind Dancers, if they were willing. They looked at each other, smiled and said they wanted everyone to know of the spirits of the dead. This is the reason for Wind Dancers. Qurwam explained that J-miah was accepted by her people because he is a Wind Dancer. They explained they became Wind Dancers when they both walked in the land of the dead. J-miah from a motorcycle accident that left and him in a coma and near death for six weeks and Qurwam, the beautiful princess, when she was in a coma from rheumatic fever as a child. They said their spirit guide was a Native American who had died three hundred years earlier at the hands of the whites. He was called Grey Wolf. They said he guided the two of them in their pursuit of knowledge in the land of the dead.
Later that night the two of them were instrumental on guiding the people at the festival to honor those who had died in this countrys wars, most specifically the native peoples who had died. To honor the dead they spoke each name of a native American who had died in this nations wars and even before America became a nation. They did this by having assistants hand to everyone a corn cob bowl with tobacco in it. We were to light the bowl and hold it up over our heads as we faced north and at the command of the Wind Dancers, turn to the east and then turn to the south, to the west and turn one last time back to the north. And I swear on a stack of bibles that the calm breeze became more intense and at the same time almost soothing. I swear, though, I couldn’t see the spirits of those who had died, I could feel them like a calm breeze or wind past my body. It was then I realized the reason for the name Wind Dancers. At the conclusion of the ceremony, I searched for the two of them. It wasn’t difficult because they were surrounded by dozens of native peoples who were clamoring for more history and knowledge of those who had died. When I finally got to them, I breathlessly asked what more I needed to know. As they held each other, they asked if I had felt a wind caress me. I said that I did feel a calm breeze on my shoulders and that it felt good. They asked if I knew anyone who had died in the wars of our country. I explained, I had lost several friends in Vietnam. It was then that J-miah spoke without guidance or interruption from Qurwam. He said he had lost many friends in that hated war. He told me he was there. I saw the tears in his eyes when he said he saw the spirits of his friends who had died there. And the spirits he saw were not the native peoples, but his buddies who had died in Vietnam. I wish I could have seen the friends I had lost in that damn war. I walked
with them around the festival and at each booth, they were stopped and congratulated for the service to honor the war dead. There wasn’t one complaint from anyone. And as we walked, they held each other tight.
I could tell that they loved each other very much and I was envious. Finally after about thirty minutes of walking I asked. “Do you summon the spirits to talk to them or do they summon you?”
Qurwam turned and smiled. “We can summon them or they will summon us depending on the need at the time.”
I told them I had hundreds of questions if they were willing and again they explained that they wanted to take the mystery and myth from the spirit world. J-miah said that he had a hard time believing that he could communicate with the spirits when Qurwam first told him he could. I asked what had changed his mind. He told me in detail how he had met with Grey Wolf, their spirit guide. And Grey Wolf took him back in time to the day of his birth, three hundred years in the past, through the years of Grey Wolf growing up and finally to the day that Grey Wolf was killed by a hunting party of newly arrived white people. He told me that Grey Wolf was killed at the same time his pet, a Mackenzie Timber Wolf was killed. He also explained how the spirit of his pet, this wolf, was always by the side of Grey Wolf. I was stunned and I asked if the spirits of animal survive to the spirit world? J-miah shook his head because he wasn’t sure, but he knew he saw the spirit of the wolf every time he met with Grey Wolf. He was unsure of other animals, but suspected they might exist in a spirit world, a level or so beneath the spirit world of Grey Wolf and other human spirits. I vowed to myself to contact known and respected paranormal experts to ask what they knew or suspected of the spirit world. When I suggested that J-miah and Qurwam talk to these paranormal experts, they shook their heads “No!” They explained they did not wish to be studied, only listened to. They knew what they were and what they could do, they had no need to boast of this to skeptics and they didn’t want to be probed and studied. People either accepted what they are or they don’t. They explained that the native peoples don’t believe a person truly dies until they are no longer remembered. There must be memories of those who have passed for them to still live in the afterlife.
I came away from that festival a changed man. I now could see with the eyes of the native peoples and how they saw the dead. Qurwam and J-miah taught me more than I could have learned in hours of classroom teachings with paranormal instructors.
I don’t know how better to explain what I had learned than what I have written, but believe me the spirits of the dead exist and want to be heard if we only will allow them to be heard.
The following was my newspaper article that I wrote for the small local newspaper, The
American Tribune.
Brad Tyler: July 26.1990
American Tribune

The Ondega tribe of Southern Maine, held
a native American festival at the State Park in
Salisbury Massachusetts this past weekend. It
was an enlightening event for this reporter.
You had to be there to appreciate how they
honor their dead and on this particular weekend,
their war dead. It was truly an eye opening
event and I witnessed first hand how these
people honor their war dead.
There were two people who led the ceremonies
to honor the war dead. J-miah and
Qurwam. They are accepted as Wind Dancers
or ones who can communicate with the dead
because they both walked in the land of the
dead when they suffered either injuries or illness
that left each in a coma for an extended
period of time. During the ceremony we were
required to light a corncob bowl filled with
tobacco and at their instruction, we faced
north and with further instruction turned to the
east, south, west and back to north. And then
they read the names of all the natives who had
died in this nations wars going back to the
French- Indian war and up to the present.
And this reporter will swear on a stack of
bibles that during this entire reading I felt a
calm breeze on my shoulders. When I asked J-miah
and Qurwam about this, they explained
that it was the spirits of the dead sweeping by
me that I felt. They also explained that many
of my friends who had died in Vietnam were
also there at the festival and it could have
been their spirits that swept by me.
As much as I tried to talk with them of
their purpose as Wind Dancers, but I had to
compete with their fellow tribes people.
Though J-miah was not born in the Ondega
tribe, he was adopted by them because they
learned he is like Qurwam, a Wind Dancer
and it is known that not all people are chosen
to be Wind Dancers even if they had suffered
a coma as J-miah had when he crashed his
Harley Davidson Sportster.
I found J-miah and Qurwam reading my newspaper article a few days after the festival. They smiled and hugged telling me they hoped that the beliefs of their people would finally be accepted by the non-believing Judeo/Christian world. They wanted these people to understand that the native peoples were not pagan/heathen earth worshipers, but people who believed in the after life as Jesus had taught his followers.
They told me that the spirit of Grey Wolf hovered behind me along with his pet Crazy Wolf. They told me that their spirit guide was happy with the way I had written the newspaper article. They were sitting just outside their wigwam and around the night time campfire then only dead ashes.
They stopped talking to each other and to me and looked past me, over my shoulders. They appeared to be listening to someone or something, but I heard nothing. They then started to nod and smile at me. I asked them what they were smiling about.
They said. “You are about to experience something you will find perplexing and confusing. Do not be afraid, you are about to see for your self the spirit world we talk about.
And I swear on the same stack of bibles I swore upon twice before that I felt a wind pass through me. I found myself hundreds of years in the past, seeing a young native man running through a forest with a pet canine by his side. I heard the two of them yell and yelp at a herd of foraging deer, causing the deer to scatter and run from the clearing in the forest. I then saw five or six white men in period clothing of the early years of the new world take aim with their rifles
and shoot the young native man and his pet several times. I also saw that after the man and his pet fell to the ground, dead, I saw the spiritual essence of the man and his pet rise from the bodies on the ground.
They just shook their heads and hovered over the white men who had shot them. The men must of felt something in the air because they looked at each other, babbled and ran from the forest.
After I came out of this experience, I saw J-miah and Qurwam smile at me asking what I saw. I told them as precisely as I could what I had seen. They only nodded and explained that I had witnessed the death of their spirit guide and his pet wolf over three hundred years earlier. I accepted this readily because I had seen the spiritual essence of each float after their deaths.
That experience changed me for all time. I now know the beliefs of the native peoples and how they view life and death.
J-miah and Qurwam knew it would be many years of them guiding festivals of the dead before more people accepted their beliefs of the life thereafter.
Later that year I received a personal invitation to attend J-miah’s and Qurwam’s wedding that was held in a field in the village of the Ondega People. They had incorporated the village of their people with the state of Maine as the Peoples Village.
When I first arrived at the Peoples Village, my first impression was how orderly and clean it was. I didn’t see one carelessly discarded piece of litter anywhere.
The ceremony was in the field and attended by everyone in the village as I assumed because there were more than a thousand people in attendance. Everyone cheered the nuptials of J-miah and Qurwam.
And I swear again on the same stack of bibles as before, there was a calm and soothing breeze that wafted by my shoulders when they wed. And I can only assume it was the spirits of the dead who approved and witnessed the wedding.
The reception after the wedding was a sumptuous feast of huge proportions. It was impossible for anyone to leave the reception hungry.

8:00 p.m.
8/18/04