CT – 214     JULY 23  ‘13
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Hi everyone and welcome to another exciting and thought provoking issue of this
bi-weekly newsletter, The CORNERSTONE TRAVELER. Also available on the web at cornerstonetraveler.com.
mid-Hudson Valleynews: The best news in the mid-Hudson Valley? My daughter, Sarah, gave birth to a baby boy at 8:00 a.m. on July 17th . My grandson, Booker Grey Edie came into the world weighing in at 7 lbs. 1 oz. And 19 ½ inches tall. One week later mother and son are doing very well. If you had seen me this past week you would have known I was as proud as a peacock for a grandfather. You can’t believe how happy I am. I know it was a difficult 34 hours of labor for Sarah. She is after all not even five feet tall.
July was always a tough month for me because my little sister, Patti, died on July 11th 1974. She was a month shy of her twenty-first birthday. My mother died on July 4th, 1994 and my brother, Bob, died on July 11th, 2003. My grandson, Booker Grey Edie balances out of the sadness I feel every July.
The county fairs are starting their annual summer slots. The Orange County Fair is in force until July 28th, but you didn’t know that it was open until you heard about it on the radio or read about it in the local paper. I was never impressed with the Orange County Fair because it was mostly games, food vendors and rides and not much else. Last year the 4H club essentially boycotted this fair because the fair officials were so slow in paying the blue ribbon prizes of the different competitions.
The Ulster County Fair is from July 30th to August 4th . What annoys me about many of the local county fairs is that they stress games, food vendors and rides, but you see little of local art and crafts. The main purpose of county fairs was to showcase local art and crafts.
Another thing that bothers me are the signs on the Thruway directing motorists to the county fair. Before you reach exit 17 there are signs that state exit 17 is the exit you want to get to the Orange county Fair. Yet when you get off the exit there are no signs to direct you either East or West on Rte. 84 to the Orange County Fair.
There are signs on the Thruway directing motorists that Exit 18 is for the Ulster County Fair. When you exit the toll booths there are signs to direct you to the different hotels or even apple farms. But there is nothing about the Ulster county Fair. Which way should you go on Rte. 299? East? West?
I think the directors of the County Fairs should think seriously about directing motorists to the County Fairs.
I firmly believe the Dutchess County Fair is the best in the mid-Hudson Valley. Everything there is well thought out and even laid out. Parking is relatively easy. There is more emphasis on local art and crafts. One of my favorite exhibits at this fair are the wood powered machines that cut wood, shuck corn, crush stone and other labor intensive works. Then there is the blacksmith that instructs people of the old craft. The Dutchess County Fair also has the old car exhibit
That’s about it for local county fairs.
The Rosendale Street Fair was this past weekend. There were some art exhibits, but there was a lot of food and drink vendors. I had to go off street to get unsweetened ice coffee.
Observations:
As everyone already know George Zimmerman was found innocent in the killing of Trayvon Martin. To everyone who disagrees with this verdict, I urge people to realize a person is innocent until proven guilty. So I say to the protesters: DEAL WITH IT! Much like O.J. Simpson was innocent as was Susan Anthony.
What bothered me most of this tragedy is what would I have done if confronted and questioned by a man without a uniform or badge and packing a gun in his waistband. I think if confronted with such a man, I would have brought up my cane (which I need to walk) so hard and fast between that mans legs they would have had to perform emergency tonsillectomy.
I was furthered bothered when I saw an interview by Sean Hannity with Zimmerman. It bothered me when Zimmerman showed no remorse that his actions were involved with the death of Trayvon Martin. And Zimmerman had the nerve to say that the killing of Martin was the plan of God.
What chutzpah.
sports:
The Yankees are in 4th place in the AL East, 7 games back and with a record of 52-47. The Yanks are bedeviled with injuries this year.
The Mets are in 4th place in the NL East leaving them 11 games back with a record of 43-52.
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 until almost the present.
The short story included with this newsletter is called The ENTRANCE TO THE GOLDEN ARCH. I hope you like it.
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                             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 ENTRANCE to the GOLDEN ARCH
The driver guided the fully loaded flat bed truck carefully into the outdoor marketplace just outside of Baghdad.  Abdul Ayyabu was following the Sheiks instructions precisely. Under all the fruit and vegetables on the flat bed was over one thousand pounds of explosive. The Sheik had instructed Abdul not to ignite the explosive until just after noon when the marketplace would be the busiest. Abdul knew he was only following the Sheiks and Allah’s wishes with his suicide bombing, but he was still concerned, so he fingered his prayer beads nervously as he looked at the clock on the dashboard and wondered what he would experience in Allah’s arms.
Ishmael and his two daughters walked past the flat bed almost overflowing with desirable fruits and vegetables. Zali, the oldest, asked if they could get an orange to eat as they looked for the food their mother requested. Ishmael said no. They were only in the Marketplace to get bread and humus for the evening meal and maybe some grapes or figs.
Zali and Meta pouted as they walked past the flat bed. Ishmael looked up to the cab of the truck and saw the driver sweating profusely and nervously fingering his prayer beads. He wondered why the man was sweating so much when he heard and felt a mighty blast that tore at his body and he died almost immediately. He thought of his two girls who were at his side when the truck exploded. Could they have survived? He thought before he died.
When Abdul pressed the button to ignite the explosives, he felt the explosion in his back as he was torn to bits and pieces of muscle and bone. The next he knew, he was floating as a spirit behind hundreds of other spirits, who died in the suicide bombing to the heavens in the sky.
I’m going to be in Allah’s arms shortly.
He thought as he saw the spirits of the two girls and the father who were beside his cab when he pressed the plunger.
They turned to him and Zali said. You are not allowed any further. She admonished. Because Allah does not allow needless deaths to be rewarded.
Meta nodded in agreement. You killed us and for no good reason. She reached up to grab her fathers hand and the father turned to face Abdul.
You murdered us! He almost screamed wordlessly.
I was only doing what my Sheik commanded of me. Abdul protested.
Your Sheik? Ishmael asked. What of our Sheik? He is a Sunni Sheik. Ours is a Shiite Sheik. Our Sheik did not instruct us to die for Allah, but yours did. Why?
For justice for the Islamic people.
Abdul protested, yet again.
So you thought it right to kill other Islamic people for the Islamic people? Ishmael asked with disgust as they all rose to the arch separating heaven from earth. Ishmael ushered his two girls through the Golden Arch then eased himself through.
When Abdul tried to pass through the Golden Arch he was met by a force that did not allow him entrance.
Why? He said to the guardian who guarded the arch. I did what my Sheik said that Allah wanted . How could I refuse?
You read the Koran? Correct?
The arch guardian asked.
Of course. Countless times.
Then you know that Mohamed commanded that needless death is against Allah’s wishes.
But I was only following my Sheiks wishes.
Abdul protested. What of my Sheik?
He will be dealt with rather severely when he dies.
The Arch Guardian promised.
But what of me? Â Abdul almost cried.
You have to serve your penance as required by Allah.
For how long?
Abdul asked.
For as long as Allah thinks is necessary because you took innocent life. So. It might be a long time. A long time.
Suddenly before Abdul, appeared Ishmael and his two girls. You took our lives because of a power hungry Sheik. Ishmael admonished the spirit of Abdul. As he said this Zali and Meta wagged their fingers at him in disapproval.
Meanwhile on the earth below where the truck exploded and killed hundreds of innocent people. Ambulances and Iraqi police screamed to the carnage. There was much wailing and crying for the murdered innocent men, women and children.
The Sheik who ordered the suicide bombing came to the marketplace with a feigned look of concern. But inwardly he was happy that so much death and destruction had occurred. He was pleased with the result of the truck bomb. He hadn’t expected so much death and destruction, but it was for the better. Already the Iraqi police, the American Embassy and the media were being informed that it was his group of radical Shiites that were responsible for the terrorist attack. This attack would better solidify his hold on the Iraqi people. He could control them with fear. His attack was in a Sunni marketplace and he knew the Sunnis would retaliate shortly in a Shiite neighborhood. He was not concerned because his home was outside the Shiite neighborhood that he knew would be inevitably attacked.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Back at the Golden Arch, Abdul was led to a shadowed doorway that he was ordered to pass through. He was met by scores of repentant souls of many nationalities. They all clamored to know what Abdul had done to be sentenced to the hell where they were all incarcerated.
I only followed my Sheik’s command to preform an act of valor with a suicide truck bombing. He claimed it was Allah’s wishes. He was wrong and I am condemned.
You were a fool. One soul admonished. Now you are condemned to this hell as we all were because we followed the supposedly religious orders of our religious leaders.
Are there only Muslims here?
Abdul asked the other spirits.
No. There are souls from all faiths in this hell. The soul explained. If you committed evil against your fellow man for whatever reason, God, Allah, Jehovah or whoever condemns you here for the longest time. You learn what you did was wrong as a mortal.
For how long?
Abdul cried.
What year was it when you crossed over to this plane? The soul asked.
It was the year 2007. Abdul explained.
`Then I have been here for over five hundred years.
What was your crime against your fellow man?
I was an Assisni and very proud of my killing ability.
The soul explained.
So you have learned that you were wrong as a mortal?”
Actually I learned I was wrong almost the very instant I was thrown in here.
The soul explained.
Your wait here must have been mentally painful. Abdul said.
Yes. As it will be for you. Only Allah knows how long you will be here. But I can almost promise it will be for a long time. A very long time.
Will I meet others from other faiths?
Abdul asked.
Yes. But we tend to group around those of similar faiths for unknown reasons. It was explained to Abdul by another voice.
Abdul turned to the direction of this voice and saw an aged spirit dressed in clothing of a thousand or more years ago.
Who are you? Abdul asked the unknown soul.
I was under the command of a very evil man during the Spanish Inquisition. He was called Torquemada. It was explained to Abdul.
Yes. I remember reading about him and how he tortured those of other faiths. Is he here in this hell?”
There was a murmur from all the souls and it was explained to Abdul that Torquemada was several levels below where they all existed. And it would a long time before he would be allowed to rise to their existence.
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Behind the destruction of the marketplace and the wailing of the grieving friends and relatives was the smoldering remains of the dead. It wasn’t difficult for the Iraqi police to determine the source of the explosion, as the flat bed was reduced to complete ruin with the body of the driver in the smoldering wreckage.
Many of the Iraqi policemen had tears in their eyes when they viewed the carnage of the
suicide bomb. Especially the dead and dismembered bodies of the children. Just then a convoy of five American trucks pulled up to the destruction. All the American troops jumped out of the trucks, arms at the ready at their chests.
The Sheik who had commanded the terrorist act smiled beneath his full face beard. “They are too late and they will always be too late. They can never stop the actions I command.” He whispered to himself.
The commander of the American troops ordered his men to spread out all around the marketplace, now in shambles. He instructed them to search for anyone who showed an unusual interest in the suicide bombing.
The troops looked into the faces of everyone in the area, seeing nothing but tears, shock and resignation. The sheik who ordered the bombing was able to pass through the troops because he was so adept at hiding his emotions, the troops saw only concern on his face.
But there was one man in the crowd who knew the Sheik for what he was, the leader of the radical Shiite group who most likely ordered the bombing. He climbed the stairs of an undamaged building with a sniper rifle strapped to his back. He was absolutely certain it was the Sheik who ordered the recent suicide bombing that had killed his wife and three small children and he knew the Sheik could not live any longer. He reached the roof of the building, looked over the parapet, spotted the Sheik and took careful aim with his sniper rifle. He slowly squeezed the trigger as he was taught and the explosive cartridge was released from his rifle, hitting the Sheik square in the head for an instant death.
Just then an American helicopter was flying overhead and saw his sniper action. A door
gunner was ordered to shoot the sniper and he did as he was ordered. The shooter on the roof top died instantly from a bullet through his heart.
The spirits of both the Sheik and the sniper floated up to the Golden Arch. The sheik was expecting immediate entrance and was shocked and bewildered with denial. The sniper was allowed immediate entrance and his spirit smirked at the Sheik. I am allowed into Allah’s arms. He crowed silently. You will have to wait.
The Sheik was confused. He knew he should have been allowed through the Golden Arch, yet he was denied. The one who had killed him was allowed through, why wasn’t he? He thought.
Because your actions ordered the deaths of many innocent men, women and children. The Arch Guardian instructed.
I was only doing Allah’s will. The Sheik protested.
No. You were not. You were only doing what you thought would make you that much more powerful. The Arch Guardian admonished.
Where am I to go?” The sheik asked.
Through that doorway. The Arch Guardian said and pointed to shadowed doorway behind the Sheik.
I am frightened to pass through that doorway. The sheik cried.
The Arch Guardian shook his head You have no choice. That is your ultimate destiny..
The Sheik passed through the dark shadowed doorway and was immediately met by
Abdul and the repentant souls who were about to be released from the hell because they had served their penance.
Abdul sneered when he saw the Sheik. This hell is my sentence because I followed your command.
The Sheik saw the other souls behind Abdul nod in agreement. How long will I be here? The Sheik asked.
The first soul to speak to Abdul answered first. You will not be here for too long.
I suspected that I would be in Allah’s arms soon.
The sheik said with hope in his voice.
No. It is not Allah’s arms where you will go. The soul said. You are to pass through one more shadowed doorway that will lead you to the level below this level in hell.
How long will I be there?
The Sheik cried.
For as long as Allah wills.
I am afraid.
The sheik cried as the shadowed doorway appeared before him.
Take your punishment as Allah wills it. Abdul sneered. By the time you leave that level in hell I will be in Allah’s arms.
The sheik passed through the shadowed doorway and the souls heard him scream as if he were falling from a great height. They heard the scream get fainter as if the Sheik was falling a great distance.
Abdul turned to the other souls. My sentence here has become more bearable, but only slightly so.
Back on Earth in a Sunni Mosque an Imam asked “Should we retaliate against this
outrage against our people?”
A hand slowly raised from a seat in the back. When the Imam recognized him, a small, slender man stood and asked. “You say our people. Are we all not Islamic people of the same faith whether we are Sunni or Shiite? Or even Kurd?”
The Imam nodded. “Of course we are, but we are in a civil war with the Shiites for control of this country’s wealth.”
“Why can’t we just share the wealth?” The man asked.
“We can and we should, but we won’t. And I can’t say why. I only know that wealth brings the demon and evil out in all of us.”
“Did Mohamed envision this problem with wealth?” The man in the back asked.
The Imam thought for a moment with his hand stroking his beard. “Yes. I believe he did. But he could not foresee how wealth would become such a mad dictator over mans actions.”
“This is sad.” The man said. “So more of us must die in this undeclared civil war to satiate the demon of wealth.”
“It would appear so.” The Imam agreed. “But what are we to do?”
“We could all lay down our arms and work together for a better and more prosperous Iraq.” The man said.
Everyone in the mosque agreed and murmured their approval of his words.
The Imam held up his hands. “Yes we should all strive for this if only to get the stench of what Hussein left in his wake and death.”