Klaas and Judy, owners here at LIW, hosted a fillet and lobster dinner for all the workampers in the Gnome Cafe.  Approximately 70 people showed for the event.

Mike Walling, known in these parts as the Porkmeister, presided as the main chef, grilling the steaks and handling the lobster. I assisted and was charged with the baked potatoes and salad for the masses.

Everyone seemed pleased with the meal and Mike was a great help to me in teaching me some great tricks when serving a large populace.

Not to be outdone by the earthquake, along came remnant of Hurricane Irene. She may have pummeled the east coast but the backlash of winds from her “eye” made a mess of things around here for a short time.

Power went down for a day and a half but we kept open the cafe in order for any wayfarer camper to have a safe haven from the winds. As quick as it came, it went. Jerome and his entourage of groundskeepers painstakingly policed the resort. A day after its exit, you wouldn’t have known we were a part of the aftermath. Two days later, I joined Ken and Pete for a round at The Hawk. Ken and Pat will be leaving tomorrow, so this would have been our last links encounter for the year. The competition brought out the best in me. They spurned me to turn in my best round of the season so far. Thank you, gentlemen.

Cheryl and Jerry invited us mid-week to a cuisine that was foreign to these taste buds. Apparently, low country boil is a revered entree in the Carolinas. They had talked about it for some time and promised to intoduce us to the Palmetto State’s finest. Skeptical at first, this quickly turned to a pleasant surprise. Keilbasa led the way into the boiling pot, stuff with Bay seasoning, add the potatoes some seven minutes later, followed by the ears of corn, boil a little more, and then add the shrimp as the coup de grace. Finish off the boil and its’ usually dumped onto newspaper. However, short of that, Cherly found a fine platter for us all to partake in the feast.

And just as soon as we were riding a high, along came the tropical storms. I’ve never seen such incessant rain for so long in my life. Apparently, from the studios in Harrisburg, reporters confided this flood had even surpassed the last great disaster of 1972. Confined to the RV, a lot of good downsizing was able to take place. Some reading, some computer time, some thinking, gave time for reflection. Although I didn’t realize it, I needed that. I was in a funk. The words of encouragement from some of you out there turned the tide a bit. Thank you for the challenge. Following the pelting, we couldn’t keep from surveying the damage. Like rubbernecks on a turnpike, we cruised the county. Isn’t it warped how we seek the unusual, the disastrous, the fearful, to see in plain view. Oxymorons are we.

I was more than impressed with the presentation. This, of course, was all gratis and free of charge to these vets who have served us so well from Vietnam to Afghanistan. Their arrival was greeted by a Scottish Highland clad bagpiper. Their departure some five hours later was sent with well wishes, hugs, and lightened hearts by every volunteer, workamper, and personnel involved in this momentous event. Governmental regulations prevents me from showing photos of the vets as they are residents of a hospital but no such rules pertained to my crew of wonderful ladies.

Today’s Fun Fact: In 1827 a new word and concept entered the American language–restaurant. It was in that year that two Swiss-born brothers Giovannia and Pietro DelMonico operated a coffee and pastry shop in the Battery district of NYC.Their enterprise was somewhat successful when in 1831 they invited nephew, Lorenzo, to join them. Though just 19 and with no catering experience, Lorenzo was born to culinary greatness. He did none of the cooking, but he did buy the food and made a point of arriving before dawn at the city’s main market to acquire the best and freshest provisions, a practice now routine but at the time unheard of. He transformed DelMonico’s pastry shop into Americans premier restaurant, bringing a dimension of elegance to America dining that it had thereto fore lacked. And now, more people eat in restaurants than do at home.

I thought I had better post this week’s happenings. Not that they’re much to speak of, but family and friends are wondering if all is OK once again as my daily posts have diminished to weekly. It’s  just the idea that staying put in one arena for much of the summer hasn’t allowed for enough excitement to stir you, the reader. For instance, mornings until Friday are composed of bicycling, a bit of weight-lifting, walking to the post office, and commiserating with other friends and workers here at the campground. Afternoons are spent either on the golf course or watching Xavier sleep, eat, and smile. I have to admit I never thought I would be the commonplace grandfather, doting on his every move. And I don’t think that point has come, yet, when I see that little lad smile, my heart melts and he could have the world if it were in my power. As of late, I’ve been playing golf with Erin, and with a few shared ideas and pointers she’s now outdriving me off the tee. This week she will hit from the men’s tees at my insistance. As always, she’s a natural athlete and I wonder where those genes come from. The second half of the week has us back at the cafe, although it’s still enjoyable enough that it’s almost not work, more of a social experience. If it weren’t for the terrazzo floors wearing on my aging hips and knees, it’s a duty that I could easily do daily. We’ve mastered the knack of preparation and now the daily routine is done almost instinctively. It must still be fun, for I have no idea where June and July have gone. And the growing number of new acquaintances and friendships make this life rich beyond accounting.

Oh, by the way we traded the Enclave this past week for a Chevy Avalanche. It feels good to be back in a truck once again. I must quit this fascination I have with purchasing vehicles. I counted them. This is the sixth one since we retired three years ago. Can I blame it on my arrested adolescence? I think not. Perhaps its my attention deficit disorder manifesting itself into high gear as I approach my seventh decade? Naw, I believe it’s because I’m never satisfied unless I have some quest to meet. Nevertheless, it’s damn fun, albeit an expensive penchant. And now to my bachelorhood. Robin began her second job today. That as baby-sitter grandmother. Carolyn had to go back to the office. There was no way “Momma G” was going to let her grandson go to day care. So she’s agreed to cover the duties a few days at the beginning of each week.  Maternal grandma Pat, wil commandeer the other two days for the new mother as she reluctantly trudges off to work. I’ll retrieve Robin on Wednesday evening from Jersey in time to ‘nest’, prior to stationing ourselves at the cafe on Thursdays. This experiment will be good for all of us. A bonding will form with Robin and Xavier that shall be priceless. Her eyes light up and I can see her burst with pride when he smiles at her.  It will also give her a chance to spend more time with both children across the Delaware. As for me, bachelorhood will give rise to mastering my mid irons, riding my bike, and spewing more bull amongst the campers.

We spent a few days last week at the beach. Sea Isle, New Jersey to be specific.

We were fortunate enough to stay in a beach house for a few nights but the days with Xavier is the real reason we made the trek to the shore. Like his mom, he’ll spend the summers of his young life there.

And as he has taken care of the needs of almost everyone he interacts with, his Dad will teach him more about the wilderness, giving him balance.

Not to be outdone by big brother Erin paid a visit for a few days.

She planned to treat me in joining her by playing eighteen on the local links. But my legs ached from a long day at the grille and the best I could so was a trip to Strasburg to ride the local railroad.

There was a child on the train a few seats in front of us. I have no idea who he was but the eyes drew me in and I needed to share this with you.

On the way back home the cornfields that we see on a daily basis never seem to grab my attention with the lushness and conformity of the rows upon rows giving a normalcy to a life speeding by.

Later the following week we took an Amish buggy ride as I clicked in the new family for posterity’s sake.

As we drove down Old Philadelphia Pike we came upon what we thought was an accident as the buggy puller was down for the count. Traffic had slowed thinking the mare a product of a crash with a vehicle but the heat and humidity just got the best of the equine and he decided he’d had enough and went down in a swelter, only to rise again and resume pulling the “plain people”.

Our ride took us down a few secondary roads, onto a dirt lane to a working Amish farm.

There we me a family but the young boys attracted my lens more than others. They seem to learn ropes of driving at an early age.

Although the Amish don’t cotton much to having their photos taken, this lad proved the perfect model. However, not the same can be said for his younger brother. When he caught my lens pointed his way, his reaction was much the adverse.

I filled in the remaining days trying my best to keep balls on the fairway and out of the ponds dotting the Hawk Golf Course.

The little time remaining after creating more family memories and manning the grille at the cafe has been spent watching Robin’s feeders bringing nature’s color to the windows outside the Bus.

A contingent of campers that rallied here together outdid themselves and in my book took away the prize for their rendition of Aunt Jemima and Uncle Ben. Following the cuisine at the cafe, trolley and hayrides through the park synced with the crisp night air. Warm apple cider was served at the outdoor fire patio where a bevy of seasonal gathered for final farewells. The park officially closes today as the water is shut off in all but the main bath houses. We shall leave tomorrow and head West for body inspections in preparation for the journey South. We didn’t see this much as workkamping. It was too much fun to be considered work. The friends, acquaintances made, and the human interaction was priceless. The week was bittersweet in saying goodbye to so many but knowing that tales will be shared when again we meet. As Shakespeare penned in his famous “Julius Ceasar”;

“We may not know the end of this day’s journey ere to come but suffices that the day will end and the end be known. If we meet again, we’ll smile. And if not, this parting was well made.”

We received a visitor from Arizona today. Ed Burkett came to visit. Ed and I were fellow deck supervisors this past spring training season. We worked the stint for the California Angels in Phoenix. Ed had phoned, stating he was in this local area for his high school reunion. Mentioning what year is a moot point. At our age, bragging rights are a foregone thought. ( That reminds me of a wake-up call we received last week. I know I’m growing older. My body doesn’t seem to want to work in sync with my desires. But upstairs, in my head, I’m continuing to function like that carefree twenty-eight year old from the past. But I digress. Robin and I are waiting in a room at Reading hospital last week, awaiting attention for the infection. To pass the time I was reading a book from my Kindle. Across the bed, Robin read her email and played mental games on her newly purchased I Pad. A young nurse entered the room, surprised to see our activity. She commented on the Kindle, and asked Robin what she was intently doing on her device. Pleased, she smiled and said, “wow, you two are really up on technology for old people”. There it was. Those spoken words. As I’ve said, I know I’m growing old, but never had it been verbalized to my face. It was as if I’ve run head first into a standing wall. Reality was awakening me. A bout of mini depression gripped me immediately.) And how did I get to this point when relating a story of a friends visit. Ed journeyed an hour down the road as I met him in the parking lot of Lake in Wood. I shared the beauty of the park with him and Robin and I reminisced of stories from spring training. Sharing a lunch date we vocally dreamed about this coming season and what may be in store for the onset of another training camp. I finished the day doing some stock photography. I have a gig doing some photos to be part of a marketing display for a national entity dealing with supplemental vitamins. Today we’re heading east to visit with the young ones. But a diversion took me through Strasburg. The local steam engine had just watered up in preparation for the days rail trail. Fortunately for me, the morning sun had cast a reddish hue and again, I just happened to be in the right place and the right time.

“Click on the blue link for video”

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My good friend Jerome, campground manager, made this video for me while recuperating. You may not acquire the gist of it at first. Kind of one of those inside jokes so I’ll set the stage. Prior to surgery I was bound and determined to get into better shape. I would walk five or six miles a day, lift weights, and then do lunges up and down a hill on my toes to strengthen the lower limbs. Daily, Jerome would watch my antics and spear me with a witty jab from his dry, Dutch repertoire. His ancestry is a large part of who he is.  Believing that Divine Intervention will come to fruition, his future plans are to ascend to the throne of the Netherlands kingdom. Henceforth, the gnome theme, where these mythical creatures roam and patrol the sylvan woods of eastern Pennsylvania.