Y.M.C.A.

Hi Bill

Have I ever told you about my YMCA experiences. 

        ♫

Young man, there's no need to feel down.
I said, young man, pick yourself off the ground.
I said, young man, 'cause you're in a new town
There's no need to be unhappy.

Young man, there's a place you can go.
I said, young man, when you're short on your dough.
You can stay there, and I'm sure you will find
Many ways to have a good time.

It's fun to stay at the Y.M.C.A.
It's fun to stay at the Y.M.C.A.
They have everything for you men to enjoy,
You can hang out with all the boys ...

♫

Whoa! Wait, not the YMCA song by the Village People, the actual Y.M.C.A. in Hollidaysburg when I was young. It was an amazing place where I spent a lot of time during junior high and high school. The building was old and showing its age and it certainly was not elegant. However my friends and I spent many happy hours in it.

I doubt that you were ever inside that YMCA, but you are probably familiar with YMCAs in general. Therefore, you will not be surprised that there was a gym in that building and a few lounge areas and vending machines. It also had a pool, a bowling alley, and a weight room somewhere in the bowels of the building. I think I was only in the pool a few times when I was in junior high school. I’m fairly sure that we also used the bowling alley then, but I don’t remember ever using the weights. No surprise there. Clark was (and is) not a weight lifter. I think the pool and bowling alley were closed as I entered my high school years. 

The gym/basketball court was a big attraction for me and my friends. My good friend Frank got me to join his basketball team, which played in the YMCA program/league. That was a wonderful experience for us. Although I was tall I never played basketball for my school teams. I probably thought they required too much time and discipline and created too much pressure. However, playing at The Y was prefect for us casual players. Not that we weren’t serious about winning, even though we were a little lax about practicing and about some of the rules! Those YMCA games were always very competitive, often very rough and we didn’t obsess about some of the rules. We didn’t need no stinking rules! Well maybe we needed and tried to adhere to most rules, because I think there was someone who acted as a referee in those games. Anyway, I really enjoyed playing in that YMCA basketball program throughout my high school days. Unfortunately, I can’t remember our teammates on that team, probably because there was a fairly regular turnover.

I also helped Frank coach some younger boys (maybe 6^th graders) in basketball at The Y. We tried to help them learn to dribble, pass the ball, and sink some baskets. I can’t remember too much about those younger boys’ basketball experiences, but I think they actually played some games against other teams. I also remember that I enjoyed coaching them with Frank. Those boys were mostly motivated, but they would sometimes do some very strange things and sort of ignore the rules - just like us older guys.

By the time I had reached about 10^th grade I had discovered that, in addition to sports, the YMCA also provided social gatherings for us teenagers. Now we’re talking about something every teenaged boy is interested in, i.e., a place to meet and hang out with girls. That quickly became one of my favorite activities. I seem to remember dances at the YMCA after HS football and basketball games, with local bands providing the music. I can’t remember the names of any of the bands but there was one Hollidaysburg band fronted by one of the Meadows boys that we all liked very much. Those dances were lots of fun, but most of us guys certainly did not display many elegant dance moves. I mean we just jumped around like a spaz during fast songs and tried to squeeze against whichever girl was willing to squeeze back during slow songs. Now that I think about it those dances were wonderful. I still like the squeezing.

I only have one bad memory connected with that YMCA. Sadly, teenaged boys are prone to getting involved in stupid and unwise behaviors. I stupidly got into a fight with one of my classmates in the locker room of the YMCA. Unfortunately, my opponent had to have some stitches on his face and I will regret that fight forever. Also, I did not emerge unbruised from that fight, and I was later confronted by two older guys who were very angry that we were fighting in the YMCA locker room. Fighting in the YMCA, unless you are boxing, is a big No! No! One of those guys punched me right in the mouth. I understood why he was so angry and I took the punch and just walked away from him. However, that punch damaged one of my front teeth and it has been discolored and sometimes painful ever since. I figure I deserved that punch and the resulting bad tooth has served as a reminder to keep myself under control.  

Oh, one more thing that I remember about that YMCA. It had small sleeping rooms on the upper floors and one of my friends actually lived in one of those rooms for a while during HS because he and his father were not getting along with each other. I saw that room once and I said, “Dude are you crazy! You need to go home.” I don’t remember how long he stayed at The Y, but he eventually reconciled with his father.

Bill – Overall, that YMCA provided many wonderful experiences during a truly magical part of my young life. I have many fond memories about that building and the experiences I had within it.

♫

…It's fun to stay at the Y.M.C.A.
It's fun to stay at the Y.M.C.A.
They have everything for you men to enjoy,
You can hang out with all the boys ...

Y.M.C.A.... you'll find it at the Y.M.C.A.

Young man, young man, there's no need to feel down.
Young man, young man, get yourself off the ground.

Y.M.C.A.... you'll find it at the Y.M.C.A.

Young man, young man, there's no need to feel down.
Young man, young man, get yourself off the ground.

Y.M.C.A.... just go to the Y.M.C.A.

Young man, young man, are you listening to me?
Young man, young man, what do you wanna be?

♫

The song isn’t bad either!

I hope all is well with you and your family. Please keep in touch.

Sincerely Clark

Base-A-Ball, Base-A-Ball, Base-A-Ball

Hi Bill

I have been thinking about when I played baseball with the neighborhood sluggers and then moved on to organized leagues. I know you played with us occasionally in the neighborhood.  I remember that you often practiced with me and you really helped me learn how to play the game.

Grandpap used to say “Base-a-ball, Base-a-ball, Base-a-ball, that’s all you guys ever think about.” He was pretty much right about that. Our West Plank Road neighborhood boys were into sports, especially baseball. Pat and Mike H’s father created a baseball diamond in the back of their property. It was our Field of Dreams, long before that movie was in the theaters. Weather permitting, and even when the weather was not so kind, we played baseball. Shortly after we moved to that neighborhood they got us involved, because there were not enough neighborhood guys to field two teams to play each other. So we would play four against four or whatever. We eventually were able to put nine players on our team and we played other neighborhoods.

My good friend, Pat H, took me to Hollidaysburg to sign up for the peewee league or whatever they called it, I believe during our second or third spring in the neighborhood. He had played in that program the previous year and he guided me through the signup process and helped me get accepted by the other boys. I will never forget Coach Weaver, who was a teacher in the junior HS, and also lead the youth baseball league in town. Shortly after I joined that program, Pat and I ran into him at The Blue & White Snack Bar, which was also known as Curlys. He bought Root Beer Floats for both of us and sat at a table talking with us. He was a great guy, and I have fond memories of him. That program introduced me to what would become a lifelong love for baseball, although I haven’t played it for many years now.

I have a vivid memory of a time shortly after I joined that baseball program. The coaches were hitting fly balls to us little guys. They hit one sky high pop up that went over my head and I kept backing up as fast as I could thinking: “Oh no! Why did he hit it to me? Please, please, please let me catch it!” I kept backpedaling and finally held my glove up and somehow the ball just plunked right into my glove as I fell onto the grass. I did not drop it either. It was a miracle catch and everybody expressed their amazement and congratulations to me.

That miracle catch was another pivotal event that fed and sustained my love for the game. I played peewee baseball and then went on to play little league in Hollidaysburg. While playing little league, I played almost every position including outfield, third base, first base, catcher, and even pitcher.  It was a wonderful program that had a beautiful field with dugouts, concrete grandstands, an outfield wall, and a well-groomed turf.

That baseball field was near the junior HS and Pat H and I usually rode our bikes to practice and the games. It was a few miles on the berm of a very busy highway and then on the city streets. However, Pat H showed me another route that took us on a narrow path into the woods and over a ridge between our neighborhood and Hollidaysburg. That path through the woods was a much shorter and quicker route. However, it also included some steep slopes and at one location it required us to carry our bikes on a cable-fence (three steel cables, i.e., one on top, one about 2 feet below the top cable, and another 2 feet below the middle cable) that traversed a usually-wet gully. We could either carry our bikes across the cable-bridge or take a longer detour through the woods. We usually chose the cables. It was all part of the magical environment we lived in. Anyway, that path emerged from the woods right behind the baseball field. I used that route very often, but not when it was raining or when it had just rained. Playing in that baseball program was an exciting time for me and it was especially great when our parents, Grandpap and you came to watch me play.

Unfortunately, not all of my baseball experiences were encouraging. I played JV baseball during my junior year in HS, with beloved Coach Weaver. Then I joined the varsity team during my senior year and I was enjoying being on that team. However, varsity Coach C found out that I, and a few other players, had signed up for the class play and had begun rehearsing for it. He got us together and told us that we were no longer on the baseball team because we had joined the play cast. Although we all agreed that we would quit the play, he did not want to hear it. He pointed out that if we left the play the director would need to find other actors to take our parts. Even though it was early in the play rehearsal phase, he would not allow us to quit the play and remain on the baseball team. That ended my HS baseball career. I like to think that would not happen today, when participation in a variety of school activities is encouraged – isn’t it?

You may remember that I also played VFW baseball for a few summers and that was a great program. Our coach, Purse, was a wonderful guy and my teammates were good friends. We did very well in that league and it was a terrific experience for me. I discovered that I was very comfortable and competent at playing first base in that league. I got to play in the All Star games a few times. That was a fun time for me. I often wonder what happened to Purse. I hope he had a wonderful life.

After my senior year in HS I didn’t play anymore organized baseball, although I did play softball for our Department of Public Assistance team when I was working in Philadelphia for a while after college.

I still love baseball, but as a spectator, not a player. I attended Phillies games when my wife Pat and I lived in Philadelphia and Reds games when we lived in Cincinnati. Of course I attended several Pirates games in Forbes Field and then in Three Rivers Stadium. Unfortunately I have never attended a game at PNC Park. However, I have remained a lifelong Pittsburgh Pirates fan and Pat and I have watched almost every Pirates game during the last few years on the MLB Extra Innings package on Direct TV. She and I are addicted to those games and they sometimes create difficult scheduling problems for other activities. I used to think she would get tired of fanatically watching Pirates baseball, but she seems to have contracted the Base-a-ball, Base-a-ball, Base-a-ball fever that I contracted back in our old West Plank Road neighborhood.

Please give my best regards to your family and take care.

Sincerely Clark

Our Old Field of Dreams

Clark (7th grade)

Grandpap and Clark

Moving to the Homestead

Hi Bill

I have been thinking about when our family moved to the homestead on West Plank Road back in the summer of 1956. I was 7 and you were 15 when we left Grandpap’s house in the city for our own house, which would remain under-construction for almost a decade. 

Our parents were very happy to move to their own property on a few acres in a sparse but slowly growing rural neighborhood. Previously, that property had been part of a large apple orchard. Many of those trees still remained and supplied us with apples to eat, to make cider, and (for us kids) to throw at each other for many years. Dad cut them down gradually. The property also had a compound of sheds on it and eventually Dad turned one of them into a chicken coop for a while. Later he got rid of those sheds and built a large garage. The property was on a busy highway (route 220) and there were no sidewalks, stop signs, signal lights, street lights, etc. In fact there were no intersecting roads for miles in either direction from our driveway.

Needless to say, little Clark was not overjoyed to be kidnapped from his beloved city neighborhood and released in the lonely wilderness. My friends were in the city where we could ride our bikes on the streets and sidewalks (although the memory of screeching tires and finding myself under the front bumper of a car in the city made the new neighborhood more tolerable for me). Regardless, I was now in a rural neighborhood with no friends and I had to accept it. We had a few neighbors across the road, but we didn’t know them. Uncle John and Aunt Helen had moved to the property between the cemetery and our property, so we had relatives nearby, but they didn’t have any kids for me to hang with. Art and May lived a few vacant lots away on the other side of our property. But they didn’t have any kids either, although Art turned out to be a very entertaining man as I got older.

Bill, you probably remember that move better that I do, but I remember spending a lot of time hanging with our parents and you. I believe Dad took some time off work when we first moved and he let me hang with him and help with little jobs. I believe Mom was not working at that time so she certainly helped entertain me. However, Dad and Mom were usually busy with chores or whatever.

At first, exploring the property was a fascination for me. The back section, which ended at the top of a hill where the still undeveloped/unused section of the cemetery began, was full of adventure. It was a wild area of the property crammed with weeds, brush, and unfriendly plants and creatures, including: poison ivy, thorny wild bushes, bees, wasps, ground hogs, snakes, and other wild creatures. I had unfriendly encounters with all of them over time. The trees also provided adventure for me. I got lots of practice climbing (and falling out of) those trees. Eventually, I became an expert tree climber, which didn’t really get me very far in life. All of the interesting stuff (and critters) in the old sheds, also provided interesting explorations for me.

However, I was very lonely for what seemed like a long time. I remember you spending a lot of time with me and I was very grateful. You were a teenager and you retained your friends in the city (you did not switch schools and graduated from HS in the city). However you made time for your little brother. 

Luckily, Grandpap visited the new homestead almost daily in his 1952 Oldsmobile and he kept us entertained. Occasionally, he would take us back to the old neighborhood, where I could see some of my old friends. He also took us with him on errands and to stores and restaurants, etc.

Occasionally I saw some kids that were about my age, and maybe a little older than me, in the new neighborhood. However, I was too timid to approach them. Therefore, I had no friends in the new neighborhood for quite a while. Luckily you decided to fix that for me and dragged me across the road to meet some of those kids. I believe the first new neighborhood kids that I met were Mike O. and Tom T. You also helped me meet others, including Tim T., Bob D., Pat & Mike H., and Billy & Victor P. With your help, I became comfortable with my new neighborhood friends, and I will always be grateful to you.

You were older than most of our new friends in the neighborhood, but you quickly became a popular member of that gang. You even became an organizer of that neighborhood gang for a while. You were already into music and band in the city HS and you eventually got the new neighborhood gang into marching exercises and all kinds of other activities. You also played sports with us, which were important bonding activities in that neighborhood.

You graduated from HS in the city about three years after we moved to the West Plank Road acreage. I (and all my new neighborhood friends) missed you very much when you left for college. I didn’t need your help to make friends anymore, but I still missed you.

That move was a traumatic experience for me, but you helped me through it and I had a wonderful life in that neighborhood with those great friends.

In 2011, the West Plank Road neighborhood gang held a reunion and we all visited the neighborhood. The beautiful house that Dad build and the house that Uncle John built were both completely gone. The neighborhood still had a few houses, but it had gone commercial and all of our old rural haunts were gone. Our old West Plank Road friends were disappointed that you could not join us for that reunion. They all wanted to see you very much. Pat and I both had a really good time at that reunion.

As you know, Pat and I drove to your house north of Philadelphia after the reunion. We had a wonderful visit with you and Jane for a couple of days. We were also happy to see Andrea and her children. It was a wonderful visit and I wish we could see each other more often.

It was great to think about that move to the homestead back in ‘56. I now feel very lucky that our parents made that move and I miss that neighborhood and those friends.

Sincerely Clark

The Home that our Father Built 

(many years after his death)

Clark 1956

Retirement Life in Our Little Town

Hi Bill

Today I decided to give you a taste of daily life in retirement in our little town. The following is a slightly-enhanced version of last Friday’s entry from my daily journal:

5/23/2015 – Friday

I got up at 9am (as usual) this morning after going to bed at 1:30am. I put the dogs out for potty at about 9:30am. Then I ate some Mini Wheats with Silk Almond Coconut milk, a half banana and part of a Special K Protein Bar (10g of protein per bar) in the family room with the dogs.

Music: I remained in the family room where I listened to disc one of The Beatles (White Album) on vinyl. I rated each song on that disc and also recorded it (MP3 recording) while listening. I did not have time to listen to the second disc this morning and I plan to do that tomorrow. I also plan to write my comments about that album tomorrow and to post the album on my Daily Music board on Pinterest and Facebook on Sunday. I have always liked The White Album very much and still enjoyed what I heard this morning, although there are a few truly bad, junk tracks on it.

Then I (and the dogs) went upstairs and said good morning to Pat who usually sleeps an hour or so later than I do.

Lenny’s Perch: Lenny, our alpha Shih Tzu, loves gazing out the front window of our living room and barking at anything that moves or looks unusual. Every day, we place a large foot stool under the window so he can lay on it and keep tabs on the neighborhood. He also occasionally shares that stool with his brother Squiggy or his sister Zuzu (Chihuahua), who are happy to join him in “bark fests”. The barking is often quite annoying, but that’s what dogs do.

I watched some CNN (to which I am addicted and should seek help for) while Pat had some breakfast.

Walk: It was very warm and sunny today with little wind. Therefore we decided to take the dogs for a walk. Unfortunately, there were too many of those golfers on the golf course today, so we walked along the north edge of the 4th fairway to Par Lane and then to the end of the street and back. That walk is about a mile which is good for the little short-legged canines and for us aging bipeds.

I made myself a sandwich for lunch and Pat had lunch shortly after I finished.

Pat and I watched the Midday News on KELO at about 12:45pm. We always record it on the DVR, as we do for almost every show or sporting event that we watch. It’s great to watch TV shows when we want (not when they air) and to speed through those commercial breaks.

Walmart: This afternoon, Pat gave me a grocery list and I decided to drive to the Walmart on the north side of Sioux Falls instead of shopping here in our little town. We have a very nice supermarket in town and we certainly buy there, but I felt like shopping exotic today. Surprisingly, the Walmart was not very crowed this afternoon. I was able to find almost everything on Pat’s list and I also got in a lot more walking at Walmart, which is a good thing. The attractive woman at the register at Walmart was pleasant and talkative. At one point she looked at me and said: “Wow, you folks must really love your apples!” My reply was “They are a little pricy and I’d be fine eating less expensive apples, but my wife really likes Honey Crisp apples so that’s what we buy.” Then she made me use the chip reader instead of the strip reader when I paid with my credit card. Of course, I couldn’t seem to get the credit card into the chip reader correctly and she had to come out from behind her counter to help me. She also gave me a very sympathetic look while helping. Anyway, I enjoyed another Walmart sortie today.

Interstate Traffic: I was surprised by the heavy traffic on I-29 in (and out of) Sioux Falls today. Then I realized that it is the beginning of the Memorial Day weekend. Duh! Nothin’ gets by Clark!

While I was at Walmart, Pat went to pick up some things at Lewis Drug (pharmacy) in our little town. Then she went to the quilt shop in town for some fabric to make more headscarves, which Pat and Rayna sell in some shops in Sioux Falls. I got home from Sioux Falls before she got back from the quilt shop, which was really no surprise. 

Later this afternoon Pat and I watched an episode of Property Brothers, which we had previously recorded from HGTV. We are both addicted to several HGTV shows including Property Brothers, Love It Or List It and Fixer Upper.

Nap: I took a 45-minute nap, which I seem to need in the late afternoons.

News: Pat and I watched the CBS Evening News with Scott Pelly this evening. We always watched the NBC Nightly News with Brian Williams in the past, but we switched to CBS after Williams' unfortunate self-promoting exaggerations of his battle field experiences. Aside from all of the tragic news stories today, CBS presented a feel-good story about an 11-year-old boy, Tanishq Abraham, who recently graduated from American River College in California with three associates' degrees (math and physical sciences, general science, foreign language studies). I told Pat that I couldn’t even be sure to get my pants on properly when I was 11 years old! 

Dishes: I put the dishes in the dishwasher after supper. That’s one of my daily contributions to the domesticity – wait maybe that’s my only daily contribution to domesticity. 

Sports – Pirates Baseball: After supper, Pat and I watched the first five innings of the Pirates/Mets game in Pittsburgh on the TV in the living room. The Pirates were leading 2-1 at the end of the 5th inning.

Sports – NBA Eastern Conference Finals Series: Then we took a break from the baseball game to watch game two of this series, which the Cleveland Cavaliers won 94-82. Cleveland now leads that series 2-0. We are rooting for Lebron James to help the Cavaliers win the NBA Championship this year. 

Sports – Pirates Baseball: Then we watched the remainder of the Pirates/Mets game on the VCR in the Family Room. The Pirates won the game 4-1 with Gerrit Cole (now 6-2 for the season) pitching eight and a third innings, earning 10 strikeouts and allowing only one run. Mark Melancon earned his 10th save with three pitches in the 9th inning. The Pirates are now 19-22 for the season. Go Bucs!

After the baseball game Pat and I retreated to the library where I typed this journal entry and we both read until about 1:30am, which is typical for us.

Book: I continued reading 14 by Peter Clines on my Kindle Voyage this evening. It’s a very interesting science fiction thriller with engaging and quirky characters. 

Dow: The Dow Jones Industrial Average went down 53.72 (-0.29%) to 18,232.02 today. 

Temp/Weather: The low temperature since yesterday was 37.4 degrees and the high temperature was 87.9 degrees. The temperature was 54.1 degrees at 11pm tonight. 

This entry is from page 1605 and 1606 of my continuing daily journal, which began on December 1, 2010.

Well now you know that retirement in our little town is not very exciting, but we are very happy here and plan to stay for at least a few more years.  

I hope you and your family are well and happy.

Take care,

Sincerely Clark

Clark (May 2015)

Back to the Burgh

Hi Bill

My letter to you last week described our life in Philadelphia where Pat and l lived on Chester Avenue. Today I thought I’d write about when we moved back to Pittsburgh in the mid-1970s.

In the early ‘70s I was already thinking that a graduate degree would increase my income potential. However, I couldn’t quite decide what discipline I should pursue. When I was still working on my Bachelor’s degree at Pitt, I had been friends with Janice and Betty, who were both working on Master’s degrees in Library Science. They were very enthusiastic about pursuing library careers and they got me interested. However, I wasn’t ready to make that decision then.

After finishing my Bachelor’s degree in psychology, which prepared me for a whole-lot-of-nothing career, I worked at DPA (Welfare) in Philadelphia. That got me thinking about pursuing a Social Work graduate degree at Temple and I took a couple of undergraduate SW courses just to learn more about that profession. However, I decided that social work was too depressing as a long-time career for me.

During our time in the Philadelphia area, Pat and I became good friends with Walter, who was a librarian at The Philadelphia Free Library. Once again, I had a friend who displayed enthusiasm for librarianship. To make a long story short, I decided to pursue a Master’s degree in Library Science, and I wanted to earn that degree at my beloved University of Pittsburgh.

I got accepted into the Master’s degree program in the School of Library and Information Sciences at Pitt and Pat and I moved back to the Pittsburgh area in late summer of 1975. We moved in with Pat’s parents for a couple of weeks. Pat quickly landed a job at a Carnegie Mellon University research lab near Monroeville. We only had one car, so I drove her to work in Monroeville in the morning and searched for an apartment in the Oakland area of Pittsburgh, my old undergraduate stomping grounds, during the afternoons. Then I drove back to Monroeville to pick up Pat at 5pm.

Once again, Pat trusted me to find an acceptable apartment, even after struggling to live in the first apartment I rented for us in Philadelphia. Surprise! Surprise! I found another way-less-than-elegant apartment on Parkview Avenue near the Pitt campus, and Pat was tolerant enough to endure it. We did not waste any time moving out of her parents’ house.

The apartment was on the second floor of an old three-story row house that had been converted to three apartments. It was not elegant, but it had a fairly large kitchen, a small living room, and a fairly large bedroom in the front of the building. Oh…, and the bathroom was located outside the apartment door on the hallway landing. Yep…, I had found another quirky place to live. We had to go out of our apartment to get to our bathroom. It didn’t bother me much, but I seem to remember that Pat was not pleased by the situation. It was our bathroom and as far I was could determine no one else used it, but they could have. There were only two other tenants in the building, i.e., a woman upstairs and a woman downstairs. They were not particularly sociable but they were nice enough.

The parents of our upstairs neighbor lived in the single-family row house next door, and they had lived there for a long time. Therefore, their family seemed to feel like our apartment building was an extension of their house. Our bedroom window was over a porch roof and their porch roof was very close to ours. They had a young son, maybe 13-14 years old who didn’t have a key for the front door to our building. However, he would crawl out on their porch roof and then onto our porch roof and tap on our bedroom window asking us to let him come through our apartment and go upstairs to visit his sister’s apartment. Needless to say, we were not delighted by him scrambling around at our bedroom window. Eventually, he took the hint and realized he shouldn’t do that anymore.

Our neighborhood was convenient for me to walk to and from the Pitt campus. However, Pat’s commute to Monroeville for her job through congested traffic was not a drive in the country. It was stressful and dangerous, especially during the winter when there were snow storms. At that time we had an Opel Manta Luxus, a very small car that was not good on ice and snow. Pat had to ascend a very steep and long hill to get from the highway to the lab where she worked. The road up the hill often got very icy and sometimes she (and other employees) had trouble getting up that hill. Sometimes the car would completely loose traction three-quarters of the way up the hill and then it would begin sliding backwards down the hill. Sometimes the car would spin in circles as it left the road and became stuck. Meanwhile, many of her colleagues would not even attempt to drive up the hill, and they would often sit in the restaurant at the bottom of the hill watching Pat (and rating her performance) spinning her way down the hill or off the road. Luckily, some of the lab employees had big trucks and they would pull their colleagues’ vehicles back onto the road when necessary. Stalwart as always, she persevered and made it to and from work almost every day. Some days, but very few, I was able to drive her to work and then pick her up after work.

Meanwhile, I walked to campus every day for classes, and spent much time in Hillman Library writing papers and studying for tests. I also got a part-time job doing research for one of my professors. I quickly discovered that I liked the field of librarianship and my professors very much. It was another grueling time in our lives, but it was well worth enduring. It prepared me for a 33-year career in librarianship in three different university library systems.

Bill - As I wrote this, I thought again about how both of us had very successful long-time careers in education. I also thought about how proud our parents were of us. I’m so grateful for what they gave us.

Please take care.

Sincerely Clark

3715 Park Avenue, Pittsburgh, PA

Our apartment was on the second floor of the building on the corner.

The photo was taken in June 1977 the day we moved out.

Another Slice of Life in Philly

Hi Bill

I hope this letter finds you and your family well and happy. Previously, I wrote about my experiences while working for DPA in Philadelphia during the ‘70s. That got me remembering the west Philadelphia neighborhood that Pat and I lived in for two years during that time.

I didn’t have much money when I first moved to Philly and that made it difficult for me to find a nice apartment in “The City of Brotherly Love.” I also needed to find one quickly. Luckily an apartment materialized on Chester Avenue on a subway-surface trolley route just before the tracks snaked underground, which was convenient for me to get to work and back. It was located in a very old diverse neighborhood with large aging dirty-brick apartment buildings that reached 4 or 5 floors with no elevators.

I saw an ad for one of those apartment buildings and went to their “office” where I met the owner, who turned out to be a rather eccentric young man. I couldn’t help but notice that he was wearing a robe and slippers, and that his office contained a bed. In addition, lots of women seemed to adorn the room, and they also seemed to adorn him at times. Hey, I guess pimps can save enough money to buy up old apartment buildings! It was the carefree narcissistic early 1970s. The price was right and he wouldn’t be visiting my apartment with his robe and women.

I rented a small (actually tiny), third-floor, sparsely-furnished, one-bedroom apartment from the social-climbing pimp wannabe Hugh Hefner. Needless to say, the apartment lacked elegance. When you opened the door the tiny bathroom was only a few feet straight ahead. To the left was a small living room with an ugly sofa. Behind the living room, through an arched wall opening was a cramped kitchen with an aging gas stove, beat-up refrigerator, and a small table and two chairs. To the left of the refrigerator was a doorway (lacking a door) that led to the bedroom with a double bed. In addition, the refrigerator cord had to be plugged into an outlet in the bedroom. There was no other furniture and no closets anywhere in the place. In addition, the apartment was not air conditioned and it was very hot during the summers. I was living in the lap of luxury! I lived alone so it was no problem.

However, within a couple of months I could not live without the love of my life, who I had left in Pittsburgh. Therefore I journeyed to Pittsburgh to visit Pat and we got married about a month later. She was not enamored with my apartment. Even the psychedelic flower wallpaper in the bathroom did not appeal to her. Our kitchen window was very close to the apartment building next to ours and we could see into many of the windows of the building, which was often interesting. In addition, every morning an older gentleman in an open window directly across from us would repeatedly cough his lung out. He was a treat to wake up to. Pat’s negative opinion was solidified when a mouse popped out of the back burner of the stove one day and she smacked it with a spatula. In fact it was a struggle for two of us to live in that apartment, and eventually we were able to switch to a much larger one-bedroom, with a balcony facing the front of the building. Otherwise, our marriage would probably have crumbled.

That neighborhood was also very interesting. We were one block from Clark Park, which provided a small grassy area during the daytime but had to be avoided at night. Unfortunately, crime was a factor in the entire area, but we were city people and learned to deal with it. Parking was only along the streets and cars were often vandalized, including ours. Virtually all of the ground-level businesses had bars or pull-down metal locking grates on the windows and doors. Burglaries and robberies were prevalent and we had to learn to deal with those problems. Surprisingly, we were attacked by a small pack of dogs late one night while walking from our car to the apartment building. I had to kick the hell out of them to chase them away, but that could have ended differently.

There were a few “Mom and Pop” variety stores and restaurants in the neighborhood that were convenient for us. In addition, there was a very interesting pizza shop that made fantastic pizza and we often patronized it. All of the employees were Italian who did not speak English as far as we could determine. In addition, previous employees kept disappearing and new employees kept appearing from one visit to the next. The really amazing thing about that pizza shop was that it had no bars or metal windows/door coverings like all the other businesses, but it was never victimized by crime, i.e., no robberies, burglaries, broken windows, etc. Now how would you explain that?

We also had some interesting friendly acquaintances in the apartment building and in the neighborhood. One unforgettable character lived in another building near ours, but we would often see him walking his enormous Great Dane. We figured him to be a pimp, but he was always very friendly and we talked to him and petted the Dane frequently. Strange friends in strange places are amazing.

Bill, I think I drove you through the neighborhood and past our apartment building one time and you questioned our sanity. However, we survived that apartment building and neighborhood for two years and then moved out of the inner city. 

Thinking back, Pat and I would not want to change any our experiences in that neighborhood. They broadened our knowledge of life and our compassion for others and enhanced our relationship. However, I don’t think I’d like living in a similar neighborhood these days.

Sincerely Clark

A Slice of Life in Philly

Hi Bill

Today I’ve been thinking about when I worked for The Department of Public Assistance (DPA) in Philadelphia back in the 70s. You may remember that I couldn’t find a job in Pittsburgh after finishing my psychology degree (imagine that). So I took a Pennsylvania Civil Service test that eventually led to a Caseworker position in Philly. You and Jane helped me transition by letting me stay with you for a couple of weeks while I commuted by train into Philly. Eventually I found an apartment on Chester Avenue just off the University of Pennsylvania campus and near Clark Park (believe it or not).

The caseworker job turned out to be a game changer for me. In addition to providing a decent salary, benefits, and a more professional experience, it also introduced me to the realities of poverty and inner-city life that was heartbreaking to witness at times. However, I was also amazed by the determination and resilience of my clients. Most of them were good people who were trapped in poverty. My job involved visiting clients in their homes and office appointments with them. I had to determine their continuing eligibility for benefits and encourage them to follow through with employment searches and other requirements. I got to know and like most of them very well.

Nevertheless I experienced many strange and unpredictable interactions. Raymond, one of my on-again off-again clients, was always interesting. He had alcohol/substance abuse problems and he couldn’t seem to follow through with his treatment and eligibility requirements. We often had to stop his benefits and he would come to the office and confront me. My response was “Raymond stop yelling and sit down”; “Raymond put that knife back in your pocket.”; “Raymond let’s not do the threatening knife thing again. Put it away and get yourself under control.” I experienced similar behavior with other clients in the office: “James, put the folding chair down before you hurt someone or yourself with it.” I had people swing folding chairs above their heads threatening to hit me and others. Sometimes I had to grab those chairs and take them away from the client. I also remember the guy who brought an ax to the office and put it down on the reception desk while asking to see his caseworker (not me). Of course we did have a security guard, but he never really had to help me, although it was good to know he was there.

Walking through the neighborhoods for home visits was also interesting. We had to carefully pay attention to the surroundings. However, most of my clients watched out for me. I remember one time when I was approaching a client’s door a group of teenagers formed around me in a threatening manner. Luckily we were in front of my client’s residence and he told them to leave me alone.

There were also some humorous incidents while I worked that job. I remember visiting one very attractive woman client in her one-room apartment. She was very nice and even flirted with me, but she seemed a little strange. When I asked how her job search was going, she said, “The only thing I’m good at is keeping house.” She was a new client and I had not bothered to read her case record carefully. When I got back to the office I discovered that “She” was really a “He.” That fact didn’t bother me, but it was a little surprising. Another humorous thing about those inner-city neighborhoods was, when it was hot, the kids would bring hoses to the sidewalk, or even open the fire hydrants, to cool off. They also loved to fill buckets with water and dump them on passing pedestrians and especially they loved to dump them into the open windows of passing cars. It was actually pretty funny.

Overall, working for DPA was a great experience and I liked most of my clients. They were mostly good people who struggled with hard lives. However, I decided that I needed to get a graduate degree and I moved on after 3-4 years. It was the right move for me. Unfortunately, I moved out of the Philadelphia area, which made our relationship more challenging. I am still grateful for the help you gave me during those years.

Sincerely Clark

Clark during the 1970s