longriver7's Blog

What passes for fun today in the life of a child is not only sad, but in some cases, truly disturbing. A splendid example would be the latest craze, one of many I'm sure, where tweens sit in front of a computer and make video clips ranging from making fun of people to creating silly, often deranged images of themselves via video webcam. That's right . They, usually girls, sit there for hours and actually make goofy faces, laugh and then string them together in a short film replete with senseless dialogue, annoying outbursts and grotesque facial distortions. Welcome to the  new fun.     This is  the cyber jungle where every trite, idiotic, callous, fake and illicit trait of my fellow man is allowed to grow and take over the minds of our kids like a tropical tree's worst nemesis- the strangler fig. Accompanying this sit on your butt and do nothing mentality is text messaging among tweens, teens and the twenty-something crowd. I text, but normally have something constructive to say.  It is quite amazing how fast this latest form of expression has spread through society, like a quick fire burning off the long grass of a tortured plain. { I recieved two texts just writing this paragraph} Communicative evolution in progress is so exciting!        My lamant here of course, is leading to the same place. In only my second, yet final chapter on the plight to save our despondent children, I suggest parents rip the plug out of the wall that is electrifying the computer, confiscate their cell phones and limit t.v time to a few hours a day.  Then try to quell the younger ones' anticipation of Halloween, grab a jacket and  run to the hills. The autumnal clock is ticking and there's not a finer time, I believe, than now to take a walk. a hike, go exploring or fishing. The leaves of our deciduous trees are in various states of death right now. To put it another way, it's breathtakingly beautiful in the Northeast. I recommend a canoe trip on a placid stretch of river. {Hopefully one which banks are devoid of litter. Good luck with that}         People at this point may suggest I obtain a life. I have one thank you. Some may advise me to get a job.  I have one of them too. It's not about preaching . It is about doing.  This is for a generation lost in space and how important it is to reconnect with animals and the good Earth. We must return to nature at all costs or everything will be lost. Doom and gloom? Reality check is more like it.          Henry David Thoreau wrote in April 1854  " in wildness is the preservation of the world." Nothing could be more true, especially today living in the looming shadow of an economic catastrophe. I think Bill Burrud of the great television show Animal World {1968-76} said it best though. He'd end his program each week with the same, simple yet elegant statement ".... And remember, we are all part of the natural world. To save it is to save ourselves." I've always remembered how much sense it made.  In an age  that has us connected to computers, cell phones and artificiality, some of us fail to see that the greatest connection of all is the one between you and the very ground you're standing on. 

The Almost Hell Kennel situation is nothing new. Stories like this unfold across the nation on a regular, if not daily basis. I applaud Fox29 for being there first{ up here in the Lehigh Valley} setting up camp, obtaining the details and dispensing with the necessary information to the public. Fox29 has this uncanny ability to home  on key leads and dispatch reporters more quickly than other regional news broadcasts, including 69 News. I don't know if I can state this with great certainty, but the track record seems to speak for itself. I've been watching the channel since the start of our mission in Iraq, which today is not nearly like the apparent living perdition  this puppy mill establishment has become. I also thought it was commendable how Sharon Crowley  followed and provoked one of the proprietors to get answers. Unless I'm missing something, I don't see other stations looking for accountability as aggressively as Fox. What I saw wednesday night was the initial stage of justice in progress. That's what it is all about.

Once and for good to answer that sad and now socially historical question, "can't we all just get along?" Apparently not.                                          Peace all the same.

This is for Sharon Crowley and the other people subjected to reporting on the two bull terriers burned alive on a set of railroad tracks in the city's Olney section. I will, if given the slightest lead, come down there, find and beat the living brains out of the sick, infantile cowards who did this to these animals, because  I've had it with these horrendous acts of mutilation and torture! Do you hear me? I have had it!!!  And if local humane chapters think I'm kidding they may want to think it over. Is this a threat and a warning to these evil, punk son-of a-bitches? You better God damn believe it is. I'm Longriver and I'm reporting for duty.              

Alright, I have a serious question. Why isn't there a write-in box for the Daily News' Sexy Singles media, celebrity contest? The list of contestants comes to a dead end with the names of Shawnette Wilson and Kyree Terrell. My suggestions are Phylis Diller, Ralph Nader and the ever popular Bozo the Clown{ whom I believe recently left us for that Big Top in the sky} I know this contest is a promotional gag and all in good fun, but whose idea was it anyway to nominate Fox29 personalities? Don't tell me it was Fredricks. Shawnette Wilson is pretty, but a little too loud when she's reporting, Neprititi Jaquez is eye candy overkill and John Bolaris- well I'm speechless. I wonder what the definition is of 'sexy'  these days anyway. If you were to ask me, it's what it is has always been 'hot' as in "Wow dude, she's really hot." I guess things have changed however. I'm an old fashioned kind of guy  anymore,  a romantic and sex appeal isn't everything. I know that sounds strange, but it is pathetically true. My point is, Nicole Kidman and Jewel aside, sexual attraction is running its course.{ Don't read me wrong here though. Back in the day I had all the right moves, all the way down 'Busted Heart Road' [a poem of mine] Which brings me to Dawn and Sharon. Both are visually stunning, as I have met the two of them, even hot, but I'm not some wild- eyed Southern boy looking down at women literally. I look at them straight on or a bit south, because I'm on the tall side. Evidently, all or most of the Fox gang was propositioned for this amusing competition.What it probably came down to was that somebody had to volunteer. Just as well, I'm glad Sharon and Dawn declined. Dawn is a class act, resplendent, funny and obviously a fine colleague. Sharon is sort of  just there. But at least she's an excellent field reporter. Only kidding! Crowley has the look and the vote. With that long, brown often radiant  hair, attractive smile and "eyes that shine like the midnight sun" what we have in her is someone who would make a man's knees quiver in the five- star, candlelit restaurant of a fleeting daydream. {pretty sappy huh? yeah, well get over it} 

My idea was simple enough. Go to Philadelphia. But I needed a reason, some kind of objective. Alas! The mock Ben Franklin/Betsy Ross wedding at Independence Hall. So I headed South. Upon arriving, I drove in circles for a while, then in squares and at one point in reverse for about half a block. I think that had something to do with being on a one way street. The frustration of parking climaxed when, after a $21 fee, I realized I had left my keys in the truck, which apparently was the only pick-up in the entire city. But my spare set was on board, literally, and off I set. Slake of thirst was my first concern, followed then by self-orientation and a quick stop at the local Rite Aid. I was in need of some Advil to relieve a pulled calf muscle. That's what you do when your almost 46. You pull things. Checking out the meds, a large, plain clothed man approached me to say, "Sir I have reason to believe you just put something in your pocket." "You've got to be kidding me," I thought. I dangled my fashionable Woolrich satchal kind-of-thing in his face as he said " Your right pocket. " I then showed him a mangled wad of cash from such place. "I'm just doing my job" he told me. Yeah, yeah and I'm just trying to ease this pain in my leg so I don't have to hobble to my destination. It's a wedding. I can't be late. I got myself to INHP and looked around at the set up and a place to be seated. Not a problem. There were approximately eighty-three thousand empty chairs. I've been to a lot of heterosexual unions, but this appeared staggering in its scope. The platform alone was the size of a football field. Is mine going to be like this I wondered? I have been toying over the thought for almost eight years now- seriously. About then, I limped over to the courtyard area amazed at the height and maturity of various trees. Together, they formed a gigantic, emerald canopy providing welcoming shade from the 'heat island' effect of the city. A small flock of pigeons amused me as they fed in unison on the lawn, their iridescent heads bobbing in and out of sync. I turned back towards the staging area, where by now people were streaming in from different angles. It was then that I saw her. No, not Sharon Crowley, but a beautiful red-tailed hawk high in flight against an indigo sky. Dwarfed by the immensity of the surrounding buildings, she or he all too soon vanished in the corona of a skyscraper. My thoughts spiraled upward. Why? Why are we here and is that a rapidly approaching meso-cyclone or an illusion due to my dire state of dehydration? I could walk now and sort of rushed to a National Park ranger, excited about a bird of prey in downtown Philly. "Good observation!" she exclaimed. "Most people don't notice our resident pair of birds." I did Miss ranger lady. Do I get some sort of prize? She was actually very nice and furthermore educated me about the peregrine falcons nesting on one of the main bridges. I decided it was getting late and despite the quickly approaching ceremony, got ready to head out because of traffic concerns, suddenly learning that this matrimonial event was to be the REAL DEAL. Leaving behind the great front lawn, I caught myself looking up again and there it was. Eileen Will You Marry Me? written with the vapor trails of a fighter jet, high in an azure sky. No, no, you dopes! It's supposed to read Eileen Can U Wait Another Eight?  My head hung low with

shame, I sauntered away as the band played on (they were rehearsing and doing sound checks).  Horses and wagons formed a procession on a cobble stone street nearby.  The sound of hoof and rubber tires didn't make historical sense.  The wedding party was coming in 1770s dress, and I had a slight fantasy of my own period style nuptials.  Landmarks, like a homeless man and an enormous sign, Al's Pizza, led me back the parking lot.  I was now walking like a normal person, the pain in my leg had subsided.         So north I sped into the remains of the day which was all too quickly becoming the cloak of night with some new memories; a childhood history lesson revisited, a pigeon pageant in the courtyard and my bogus drug bust.  But that red tail, he was extra special as the afternoon progressed he became the best friend I ever had and together we became a legend. 

Another torrid day in the city, another horrible way to die. No, I'm not talking about some burned-out junkie under a street lamp in the still of the night or a pedestrian going under a bus. I'm talking about an American Staffordshire terrier beaten beyond belief. This time the killing was easy. The monsters cornered it, strung it up and then stoned the animal to death. Erroneously referred to as a 'pit bull', the mutt was left to expire hanging from a fence, in the seering heat of a blighted school lot. As always, Crowley stepped up to the front line of Earth's oldest war- man against beast. This time the beast didn't have a God damned, bloody chance. I would like to see these aimless cowards forced to put on a combat uniform and shipped to Iraq. There, as they lie on the battlefield mutilated, thirsty and drawing in a last breath, I hope they're thinking about how that dog senselessly suffered, instead of thinking how they died for their country in vain.

Sharon 'the Fox' Crowley has a knack for sniffing out the city's more alarming and detestable animal abuse stories. She reguarly reports on matters ranging from tortured Pit Bulls and emaciated cats to the scattered remains of attraction horses. The hoarders...{ see my stupid blog} provide the city with an abundance of horror stories thanks to hearts blinded by reason. It's a damn shame this kind of stuff has to go on. I have my own problems up here in the Lehigh Valley. Most of these are pet dog situations that I take care of anonomously. But this latest case has me irritated to the bone. You see, my wealthy brother and just wonderful sister-in -law decided it would be a great idea to get my nephews, who I adore very much, a doggy. Indeed they did. Baxter is a very animated cross between a four letter word I'd rather not print and some kind of Terrier. In other words, a man made dog. Early on I suggested something more easy to care for like a kangaroo rat or a salamander, but they all looked at me with a serious lack of expression. Backy, as he is playfully known, spends his entire day in a metal cage which he now has entirely outgrown. I admit that when he was obtained the boys played with him, but the novelty of the act wore off in about three days. I then had to stress that this creature needs food, fresh water and excercise daily. My lecture fell on deaf ears as all any of them can do, mom and dad included, is let him out to go wee-wee. In fact, when I visit the poor little guy he tinkles on me out of sheer excitement when I liberate him from his holding cell. I then take him outside and watch him run around the yard like Mighty Dog. It's like watching a furry bullet with legs go by you at 90 miles an hour. There he is, every time I go up, in the cage with an empty water bowl. The last time I felt like ripping the cabinets off of the kitchen wall. So I've decided to do someting about this protracted mess. I'm going to place a phone call. And it's going to coincide with my wealthy brother and just lovely sister-in -law's moving from a house they built in 1995 to a mansion they've recently built merely ten minutes down the road. That's right. I'm actually going to call the proper authorities, Freinds of Animals, on my brother and his wife, because I have had it. Do you hear me? I've had it! This is all about parents caving into their childrens' wishes and almost everytime the would be family pet loses.{see my stupid blog The Hoarders, the Breeders and the Wildlife Feeders.} This is where Crowley comes in. I want this documented all the way from the local level(newspaper) to an expanded regional level with Sharon and crew reporting live from Nazareth, Pa. It should go down like this. Sharon: How does "Jane" feel about what you've done? Me: Well right now she wants to kill me but soon she'll be to preoccupied filling her mansion with material, essentially useless objects, to really give a rat's @! #. Sharon: what about your brother? Me: Well right now he's filling up the new garage with material, yet practical things and is too busy to give a rat's @!#. Sharon: and the dog? Me: I have a saying ' let the animals come to me'. Basically, I inherited Baxter. My mom: why did you do it? It's just a dog. My dad: what dog? Sharon: Would you do something like this again? Not sure. I don't have alot of extra time these days. Average guys like me struggle to survive and uncared for pets just surrender and die. By the way-has anyone seen an Ocelot ?

{Or how this should completely go without saying} Something is wrong. Our children, in my case four nephews and a niece, are lost. They're not at large geographically, but lost in their own little worlds. A place so artificial, it bears little resemblance to the one i grew up in. Suburban kids live demanding lives thanks to the scholastic pressure they are under, totally detached from the natural world just outside their doors. This complete disconnect from Mother Earth comes courtesy of overwhelmed parents, a frenetic after school curriculum, spoiled child syndrome, and surely not the least , the computer.
You see, i grew up playing in the woods and fields. I'm not a country boy. I didn't grow up on a farm. It was a rural suburban tract in the middle of town. A creek, with a mill, flowed near by. No one forced the outdoors on me. It was there for the taking and i fully embraced it. All of that is gone now save for a little patch of forest. Just one lot remains out of twenty-seven. I still visit those woods where i climbed vines, built forts and learned how to fish down by the dam. But there's trouble on the horizon. Dark clouds are moving across the wide open blue sky, punctuated with cumulous formations. My nephews in Nazareth, Pa. six year old twins and a nine year old don't respond to nature like i did. When we go on short hikes or ride to the reservoir the awe isn't there. The way they act it (State Park) may as well be a mall. A Turkey vulture once flew overhead and not only did they forget what it was, they didn't see it. I said how can you not notice a huge, black bird with a six and a half foot wingspan { sometimes seven} flying right over your little heads?
But they are learning. They know their native animals, a thing or two about tracking (i'm not a hunter and that i loath litter.) I can't yet say to them what i want my bumper sticker to read; People Who Litter Suck. They're good boys though, well behaved , disciplined and really getting into sports now. My affluent twin brother and his wife though, have spoiled them beyond belief. In their house, materialism reigns. I'd like to thank my brother at this point for making my job that much harder.
It is other children that worry me however. Adrift in cyberspace or entrenched in video game warfare today's young teens are sincerely lost in space in regard to nature. They wouldn't know a Red Tailed hawk if one landed squarely on their empty heads. With the tantalizing tentacles of the computer around every corner of the house, idol kids have a world of atrocious, illicit material at their fingertips. And these video games, as adults know, are no good. They replicate violence, condone violence and ultimately manifest violence in society's worst nightmare; a homicidal maniac at loose with a gun. (My nephews only play Wii games and i tell them you don't kill your opponent, you vanquish them.)
So the point of all this? Teach our children a healthy respect for the outdoors, especially  animals and get out there. Take a kid fishing (don't litter), hiking or to a local zoo. Find a far flung field to fly a kite or model rocket. The latter should teach them about science and physics better than any book can do. The troubled youth of our nation regardless of race, creed, color or affliction must return to nature in some capacity. It may not only make their day, it will help them blaze a trail through the wilderness of myth and confusion that prevails in an 'urban warrior' kingdom.

Hello out there. I know this may seem trivial, but has anyone heard anything else about the ocelot {cat} supposedly at large in the North East ? Since first reported by Sharon last Thursday, there hasn't been a follow-up story, unless I've missed it. I've been working seven days and I don't have Tivo. I'm beginning to think it never existed.

"she's got eyes of the bluest skies and if they thought of rain, I'd hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain... her hair reminds me of a warm safe place where as a child I'd hide and pray for the thunder and the rain to quietly pass me by."  I'm not sure if i would want to hide in Sharon's hair, but i find myself easily lost in those deep-set blue eyes , although they appear deceptively dark and stormy on t.v. This i ascribe to sunken sockets and plentiful amounts of eye shadow. As the song goes, "she's got a smile that it seems to me... reminds me of childhood memories." Her smile, which is beautiful, actually reminds me of high school memories and a certain blonde cheerleader who i was immensely attracted to. Like Crowley, her eyes were an intense azure blue. I ran into Ginny a few years back at New Jersey's premier event, the annual Warren County Farmers Fair. { Yeah!} and again last Christmas at a mall in Easton- her hair still long and golden, those organs of vision still stunning. She told me that she was working for a muti-million dollar real estate company after i told her i was an arborist and  nurseryman by trade.{ I didn't feel small at that moment- i just felt well.} Now, as for  the 'thunder' and presumed lightning part of the song, i have no fear of that kind of stuff. In fact, i enjoy Summertime electrical storms, especially when i'm in an aluminum rowboat in the middle of a large body of open water. Finally, "where do we go from here?"  I don't know. Where do any of us go anymore.

Alright now everybody quick read this, because if my girlfriend sees it i'm a deadman.   

{ I wrote this piece on Monday the 7th and then sat on it. I knew i wouldn't have to wait long. Sharon Crowley delivered the news on Thurs. of a pit bull terrier and the heinous end to its life.}     It seems like not to many days pass anymore without me hearing about an animal abuse story whether it be in my local newspaper or on a Philadelphia newscast. A recent case hit home as in right down the street from where i live. A young guy decided to stuff two small dogs into a trash bag, one dead the other still alive, and throw them on the side of a rural road, along side a creek. He was caught and has already been convicted. Of course' he didn't know what he was doing'. I get tired of the same lame excuses. They were not in the right frame of mind, they were out of their minds, they were not of a mind. Enough already! This reminds me of another problem. Citizans who harbor feral creatures, mostly felines, to the point where the house is completely filled with them. That's usually  the time the authorities come knocking to discover a modern day Noah's ark. Except rather than wild animals, they find a kingdom of once abandoned pets, all in dire health. If you want to collect something try stamps or coins or skulls. Which brings me to my next point. Stop feeding wildlife. Yeah, like the kind on Noah's giant boat. Trust me on this one. I've been around animals my entire life and the wild ones don't need our help. Wildlife, in all its glorious forms, has been around supposedly for millions of years.   Animals know how to take care of themselves better than we do. This most certainly applies to the White Tailed deer, Eastern red fox, squirrels and American black bear.{ birds? go right ahead. It's a great hobby} And while i'm at it, knock it off with the home videos of native fauna. There's nothing cute about a 400 lb. black bear tearing off both of your arms. Then there are the breeders. Folks, try really hard not to buy your next dog or cat from a pet store. It should be outlawed to still be doing this in the 21st century. I never patronize pet stores. If you want a man-made dog, otherwise known as a pedigree, buy one from a small scale reputable breeder and not from a puppy mill. Such places are exactly that- factories that churn out canines like Staffordshire bull terriers{ pit bulls} to appease the demand of our violent puplic. Instead, acquire a mixed breed cat or dog of which there are literally thousands to choose from at any given time. Finally, if you see an animal being abused in any way, like suffering in extreme heat or cold, do something. Find the nearest pay phone { they still exist} and make an anonymous call.     I'll always remember the last of my cats, the longest lived, bounding across my backyard to greet me after work. Despite an occasional bad day or the mentally corrosive affects of driving, she invariably brought a smile to my face as she followed me to the backdoor. Dawn Stensland once asked whether people were putting pets above the value of human life. The way i see it, people have been increasingly turning to their animal companions in a society that has turned decidedly more cold.

Alright, look. It has come to my attention that Sharon Crowley hasn't made a post  to her blog in something like a year. In a age of internet vanity, this is inexcusable. I didn't ascertain this by scrolling through countless posts or by taking a wild guess. I just really haven't noticed her name anywhere on the community bulletin board. Not even in the fashion category. Hey, if the vast majority of her broadcast colleages are blogging regularly then why isn't she? That's why i'm spearheading the 'Get Sharon to Write Something Campaign' in what i think is noble attempt to lure dormant thoughts out of her pretty head. I mean, it's sort of obvious Crowley isn't very motivated outside the harsh glare of the spotlight. Doing extra-curricular work seems above her. Yeah you guessed it, Sharon's a slacker. Action must be taken. So act now. Start signing in fellow journalists to encourage Sharon to write something mildly concerning. I'm even willing to make a suggestion for a blog entry to help her. My birthday is coming up on the 28th of this month and it would be honorable of her to wish me a very happy birthday. Of course i'm not going to divulge how old i'm going to be on that day, but let's just say at 44 i still got it man. I know people are busy this week with Thanksgiving and everything, but we have to get this operation going. While everyone is driving around the country and eating like maniacs, i'll be at work digging trees, then coming home to sit by the computer {and a nice fire.}

And folks this is not a contest it is only a petition, please, no wagering.

My way was North,dead on, under an ashen colored sky heavy with the threat of rain and impossibly cold for early October. I was leaving the comfort zone of the mid-lehigh Valley for a spot on the map called Schnecksville. I had never heard of such a place before. I'd heard of a Who-ville where all the Whos live, and a Virginville {Pa.} where all the.... but a Schnecksville? Anyway, my destination was the Lehigh Game Preserve and one of the annual Memory Walks for Alzheimers disease back in 2003. {or was it 2002? I can't remember honestly). My uncle had recently passed away form the affliction. So this was for him with the added value of seeing my animal friends. Upon arriving, I was amazed by how big the turn-out was on this cold, wet day. I recieved a plastic bag otherwise known as litter, filled with items to commemorate the event, including a tacky t-shirt. What I really wanted was a large cup of coffee and an extra jacket.The coffee woke me up to the fact that I was now prepared to walk with a group of perfect strangers, through a wildlife park, having not a clue how long it would take to make the circuit.   I stopped many times to pay(recognition) to the animals,but given the extreme tundra-like conditions only the zoo's more spectactularly hearty denizens such as Canadian Lynx, Timber Wolf and Northern river otter were in cross examination mode. Sometimes a part of our pack would deviate from the trail to mingle with other humans. I found this to be odd and unsettling. We needed to keep moving. The nearest feeding grounds, a hot dog stand and watering hole, a java hut, were hours perhaps days away. My map of the zoo wasn't needed. Why follow a map when you can just follow a crowd? The most perilous stage of the expedition was leaving. The only way out is to ford the Jordan creek with your vehicle and then ascend a steep hill that loops around the park with views similar to Yosemite National Park and the Grand Canyon. The buffalo roam up here, literally. A herd of about forty American Bison live on this knoll. Our ancestors killed off almost 50 million head from 1850-1890, delivering the symbolic species to the very doorstep of extinction. But by  golly we brought them back, only now to serve them up as Bison burgers.  My way was South, straight on, under clearing skies.(Actually it just kept raining the entire day)  Well I  had a good time on that Sunday 14 years ago and it was nice to see some Fox 29 personalities. Of course it could be I have no recollection whatsoever of the day and I'm completely making this up. But why would anyone want to do such a thing? Looking forward to this Saturday's walk in Serengeti Nat'l park Kenya.

P .S. post date Nov.7th. The above story is true and did happen as told, but surely  it's not to be taken seriously. Just wanted to write something slightly entertaining given the unforgiving nature of the disease.  I enjoyed Sat. Nov. 3rd's stroll at Citizens Bank Park and meeting Dawn and Dave. Coincidentally, it was just as unseasonably cold until  the sun burst thru the sky at event's end. A good time indeed.

 

 

Hats off , or whatever, to Dawn Stensland {somebody ck spelling} the consummate news anchor at Fox29 for doing a good job at a hard job each night. I really don't know how she can appear every week night at ten and for at least the next fifteen minutes  report the most terrible stories of the day without being shaken and stirred. I know she is a professional, but let's face it- things are looking pretty bad out there  these days in the big city. The same kind of fortitude can be said of her long-time partner Dave Huddleson{ spell ck please}. But the seriousness of it all eventually gives way to less important subject matter like our losing sports teams or balmy weather. That's usually when Dawn, who is quite attractive, nudges her colleague ,with a smile, to quickly comment on something. She lighten things up with her laughter and that is always refreshing. It is easy to see she has a 'Heart of Gold' and i'm glad we have her.