Mom and me playing Kings on the Corners at her kitchen table, two days after her shoulder surgery.
While looking for my grandmother's house, we came upon this set of wind turbines between Bedford and Hooversville. Turns out it's the Green Mountain Wind Farm in Garrett, PA, which opened in 2000. (I think...)
My maternal grandmother, Ethel Lauer, grew up here. This house must have a story; its former beauty is obvious, and I have to wonder how it came to be abandoned.
My sister Jeannie's outstanding navigation skills enabled us to find this hidden gem.
The Hooversville swinging bridge. My father's father's parents' house is up the street behibd this bridge on the left, across from the stop sign.
The plaque on the bridge. The bridge is a long way above the (current) water level; the flood that destroyed the bridge must have been tremendous.
The view from the bridge - rural Pennsylvania is a lovely place.
My father was born in this house. His parents had temporarily moved in here while their home on Stockholm Avenue in Windber (shown later) was being rennovated.
One of the two places we used to go as kids for ice cream. We got lucky; when we arrived, we discovered that it was “Buy One, Get One Free” day for sundaes.
My home town.
My father's parents' home in Windber. When they lived here, the shell of the original Callen's Bakery was behind the house; it was damaged by fire and has been replaced with a smaller suburban garage.
Our street corner.
My childhood home, from shortly after my birth until the end of 8th grade.
The back of the house. The snow used to drift ferociously at the garage door; we would often have to dig out the snow before my father could leave for work. The fellow standing in the back yard is the son of the people who bought the house when we moved to Florida. He graduated from Windber High School the same year as my sister Cyndi and knows many of the people who were our neighbors.
The windows on this side of the house are for the bedrooms. Mine was the lower left, my parents the lower right, and my sisters' shared the attic.
My best friend, Ricky Frazer, lived a block away in this house, also on Baumgardner Avenue. At the time it was the last house on the street, but now there are many beyond it.
Windber's hometown swimming hero, Johnny Weissmuller.
The town fire station. My father was a volunteer fireman.
This building housed the Callen Baking Company from the 1930s until 1968, when we moved to Florida.
The Arcadia Theater, where we went for movies. There was some sort of special event in town that brought out a lot of old cars; this is how the street might have looked in the 60s when I lived there.
Across the street from the Arcadia is this building, which was originally housed the train station, then the town library (where I spent many happy hours), and now offices.
The Farternal Order of Eagles used to be in the building that bears this stone.
Nice pairing.
I was baptised in this church, and sang in the choir for many years. It appears that congregation has departed; the church was locked, and I was unable to get any pictures of its still-beautiful interior. I was able to peer in a side window.
We drove out past one of the old mining communities and discovered that mining is still happening, albeit with much newer techniques.
The reason Windber exists: coal!
This used to be the East End Elementary School, where I attended kindergarten through 4th grade.
Across the street was Andersons, where we used to buy penny candy. You could walk in with a nickel and walk out with a bag full of goodies. It must have closed recently; the shelves were still stocked, and the candy bins were exactly where they were 40 years ago.
The high school, home of the Windber Ramblers.
On our way between Windber and Roaring Spring we passed this little scene. Are the cows the “dumb hundred?” They didn't LOOK especially dumb...
The spring at Roaring Spring. My mother's parents used to live in an apartment above my grandfather's garage, just to the right of this picture. The garage has been demolished and been replaced by a parking lot. It's very odd to have such an important piece of my persinal history so thoroughly expunged.
A modern fixture has replaced the old everflowing bubbler at the fountain.
The everchanging fountain. At night it's illuminated by changing colored lights. I could (and, as a child, did) watch it for hours.
The spillway at the top of the spring was popular with the ducks.
The offices of the Roaring Sprint Blank Book Company are where I was my first electronic accounting machines (plug-programmed IBM systems). My grandfather arranged a personal tour for me. probably in the early 60s. The man who showed me around was excited that they would be getting their first real computer in just a few months.
My parents were married at St. Luke's Lutheran Church. When I visited my grandparents for extended summer vacations, one of the highlights was helping my grandmother fold and stuff the weekly bulletins.
The church's history in stone.
At the end of the street that the church is on is the Roaring Spring paper mill. The smell of the mill helped define my grandparents' house to me.
It's no longer active, but the Roaring Spring train station is beautifully maintained.
