The Early YearsMillworker to CadetOverseasCollege & Alaska Family& Work

What next?

Before graduation, I must have mentioned the paucity of openings for agronomists to Grandad and evidently I showed that I was "down in the dumps." The following letter soon came to me:

Wigwam May 19 1950

Dear Bob,
Any fellow who flew the Himalayas dozens & hundreds of times--lived in India--swam in the Brahmaputra--ate lunch in Burma or Siam, hasn't anything to be afraid of in this dumb land. He who knows about land and nature has no right to be worrying about a job--that is the biggest job in this country.
Head up, chin out--and six feet in the air is about as good as any man can have. You'll get your fit soon enough and when you do, you will have plenty to do. If you know how to treat the ground, there's more of it to do than making movies or running an automobile or truck; there is not likely to be strikes in the agronomy industry.
'Spose you will be having a sheepskin soon, when you do, come this way home and we'll take a look.

Grandad McCreight


Right now I can't recall what I did the rest of the summer of '50. Maybe I took a vacation while waiting for job offers which did not result from my inquiries. By fall, with possible influence from Dad, I went to work at a Socony-Vacuum plant near town. Besides stenciling boxes, time was split in filling wooden cases with molten grease to unloading boxcars in frigid weather.

By March I was quite glad to accept a bid to go to Vicksburg, Mississippi to do soils research with the U.S. Forest Service. I was accompanied by a send-off committee composed of Dad, Mom and a girlfriend named Barbara Ann Furst. She had a lovely face and a heart to match, the two of which one did not forget. I arrived at the airport and boarded the plane for the trip south.



The project in which the assembled crew was involved was a part of the Korean War effort. We were charged with an attempt to predict battlefield surface conditions. If climate and soil data were known for an area, it might allow our army commanders to better deploy mechanized units. I never learned what we learned.

We worked in this Dixie sauna bath through the oppressive Spring. We visited ante-bellum mansions in Natchez, viewed the Capital in Jackson, and boated on ox-bow lakes across the Mississippi River in Louisiana. I slowly came to understand how the bi-cultural system worked below the Mason-Dixon line. Sometime before the middle of May, I was offered a position in Washington, PA by the U.S. Soil Conservation Service. I guess I had tacitly agreed to hitch up with Barbara, so I packed up and headed north to my "doom".



Barbara Ann Furst, the youngest of four children, was the only daughter of Gordon and Lelia Furst. Gordon was a younger schoolmate of my father when they both attended Susquehanna University in about 1915. (?) All of the family were in our congregation so it was rather inevitable that I met Barb at some church service in the fall of 1946. Since I was attending college at Penn State, I only saw this highschooler occasionally, maybe at a church function or a football game. She played clarinet in the band.

Meantime, Barb's brother David returned from a duty tour in Korea and there followed an exchange of mutual interest with my sister Cathie. And so, with little urging, a double date was set up for a New Year's Eve party at the "Y" to kick off the year 1949 (or 50). By the time of the Big Snow of November 1950, I was enthralled enough by this pretty, nice, brown-eyed and low-voiced nineteen-year-old that I waded through 30 inches of the white stuff to keep a Saturday night date.

After graduating from high school, Barb worked at Murphy's 5&10 in the, what else, candy department. In 194_(?) she got a job at the telephone company. By 1950, she had entered training at Hamot Hospital School of Nursing in Erie. At some point Barb had quite a siege of flu, etc., got behind in her studies, and eventually quit. It may have been shortly before we were married.
Barb and I were married on July 7, 1951 at our church with friends and relatives present. Our honeymoon took us north to Niagara Falls, Stony Brook State Park and Watkins Glen, all of NY, and then Wellsboro, PA to visit relatives. We started housekeeping in an apartment under Gordon's grocery store on Locust Street in "Little Washington", PA.

As a new bride, Barb tried a recipe for pumpkin pie. It came out fine so that the next five pies were pumpkin before she would attempt another kind! The Gordons were a kindly couple and helped us get started. They gave us the use of their motorboat and island cabin for a vacation adjoining Georgian Bay in Canada. On Thanksgiving Barb's brother David and my sister Catharine were married. Barb was matron of honor and I was listed as vocalist, singing Because, Through the Years and The Lord's Prayer.


After getting a few rudimentary lessons about conservation work from fellow staff members, I was transferred to New Castle, Lawrence County, PA, in the spring of 1952. There I would labor essentially alone for the next 14 years.

We rented a first-floor apartment of a house on Worthington Ave. In late January 1953 baby Randall showed up at nearby Jameson Memorial Hospital. A couple of years later in late February, Baby Rebecca was added to our family which had earlier moved to a second-floor apartment on Forest Street. By 1957 we took a 'hop' of fiscal faith by buying a pre-fab National Home. It was purchased under another facet of the G.I. Bill and was erected on a lot on Thornhill Drive in Union Township. On Saturday July 21 thirty of our relatives gave us a surprise housewarming.

We thought we had sufficient room so baby Melinda joined us in early August of 1958. Vacations were taken to our camp at Dotter Eddy on the Allegheny River near Emlenton and to relatives' places. My brother Ray gifted me his membership in the Riverview Outing Club when I returned from military service. Dogs filled our pet category although we had one canary and fish. Since we both came from families with four kids, Barb and I maybe were inclined to that number, so along came baby Amy in late May 1964. Even after our children were well-grown, Barb continued to be drawn to all babies and younger people.

Randy and I both got into the Boy Scouts. I was on the district board. We attended winter camporees at Camp Agawam where I slept (?) under a pine tree in a sleeping bag in 20� weather.

In 1967 I was transferred to Mercer County where we bought an old farm house on 6� acres in Lackawannock Township. Some events that happened there are included in the following links.

My Work Description

As a soil conservationist, most of my efforts were aimed at assisting landowners and governmental bodies in solving problems relating to soil and water. My starting salary in 1951 was $3100/annum. By my retirement in 1982, my salary was $25,318, much of it due to inflation. Snippet descriptions of jobs: made soil surveys by hiking over the land recording the various types on an aerial photo-----surveyed sites for pond construction using a Dumpy level-----laid out tile drainage systems, also with Dumpy level------established layout of stripcropping using hand level----locating diversion terraces, also with hand level-----overseeing construction of such practices by contractors-----inspecting and certifying completed works. Somewhat like the baker who was allergic to flour, I suffered through the grass pollen seasons with my hay fever. Sometimes when itching eyes, hives and sneezing got too onerous, I would leave for home in midstride to recover. I credit "old age" for the cure.

In the fifties, it seemed that we were often invited for lunch at the farmers' homes if our work carried over to the afternoons. By the sixties such invitations were a rarity. Was it us or the change in community attitudes?

Little oddities popped up occasionally. Very old drain tiles might be found with diameters as small as two inches. The minimum modern size was four inches. Then there were the very, very rare tiles which were formed of two half-longitudinal pieces. Some halves were formed of the clay mix molded around a person's lower leg, then fired in an oven. Very crude, but worked. Another rarity I once saw was a twenty-foot long wooden pipe used to deliver water from a spring. It was about four inches in diameter with a one-inch hole through it, the hole having been drilled from each end. How the old-timers managed to have the drill-holes meet correctly in the center is a mystery to me.

Of course the work of us government employees was checked by visiting inspectors. One time a team, possibly from the Government Accounting Office, arrived to review our compliance with policies. This group happened to be composed of "city" guys who had never ventured to the countryside. After we had been nit-picked by these "experts" in theory but who lacked common sense, we devised a way to cut short their stay. While escorting them to view installations on farm fields, we'd walk fairly far from our parked vehicles and then very casually mention that "snakes were prevalent this year". It wasn't long before this plague of checkers high-tailed it back to their urban haunts.

As civil servants, we were often reminded by supervisors to maintain our conduct in public above reproach. Ah, but one time in the early 60's I came close to the edge. Vince and I were checking drainage at the old Chadderton Airport. We happened to meet Joe Bu__w____r. who was the company pilot. Joe asked me if I wanted to go up. Vince was aghast and reminded me that such a lark would actually be on government time. I hadn't flown since '51, so I handed my work diary to Vince and told him to turn it in if I didn't make it back OK. Joe and I had a nice short spin. P.S. I never got caught.....yet!

Parts of my job also included: working with farmers, landowners and officials in preparing overall land use plans-----planning and supervising renovation of coal stripmines-----monitored local radioactivity for a period of time during perceived nuclear threat during the Cold War----presented conservation talks to interested groups------helped train new personnel-----logged accomplishments for required reports-----wrote reports----wrote reports------wrote reports----and when the writing of reports exceeded the actual work done, I retired.

ATTENDING ELBERT'S WEDDING

In the late 1960s, Elbert Wells was assigned to our work unit at Mercer. He had graduated from a southern college and been selected as part of the "unofficial quota" of black employees in Pennsylvania. Till that time , I feel sure, the powers that be had never ever contemplated having a racially integrated work force.
When Elbert arrived in the area his finances had been depleted. Arrangements were somehow arranged to provide him with a cash advance from the Children's Aid Society which kept him afloat till payday. He turned out to be a very personable fellow whose friendly and straightforward manner gained him true acceptance in most quarters. This outcome was reinforced by the positive attitude and influence of the local supervisor.

DOWN RIVER

One spring in the 70s, I bought a couple sheets of plywood and other lumber in preparation for boat building. Using a simple blueprint and Dick Crowley's garage, I put a 16-foot skiff together. I slid it down the ways at Utica on French Creek and soloed down to Franklin. On a bright June Saturday morn, fellow-employee Larry Zuschlag and I pushed off for an easy float trip. Being the only travelers using this stretch of the beautiful Allegheny, we relaxed and enjoyed the passing embracing scenery.

We ate our lunches onboard as we drifted through the snaking canyon which preordained that our vessel's path aim at every point of the compass. Mid-afternoon found us at Kennerdell where we stopped ashore for ice cream. Slowly zigzagging over riffles and eddies, we continued on until the sunshine lifted off the water and hid behind the western hills. It was then that Larry turned pale and showed signs of stress. We pulled to land and found a helpful vacationing engineer from Pittsburgh whose wife took Larry to their cabin for treatment and rest. Our newfound friend offered to accompany me on down to my camp at Dotter's Eddy where my ride home was waiting. It was after dark when the skiff was secured at my camp's landing and we loaded up for the return trip in the car. Our engineer was dropped off at his cabin where we retrieved a partly-recovered Larry. It had been a fine trip but......

Larry was visiting a sick friend next day at the little Mercer hospital when a doctor happened to notice Larry's ankles and feet. They were beet red so immediately turned Larry into another hospital patient. He wasn't released for a week! Being a redhead, Larry had been highly susceptible to injury from the water-sun combination on the voyage.

Take A Break
{ I pause here to ponder. The period dating from my marriage in 195l to the present 2008 is filled with a vegetable soup of life which right now seems to be about as mixed up in my memory bank. I have kept no diary to which I might refer. I must go and gather clues among old letters, check stubs, greeting cards, Mom's diaries and photographs. When I get the facts in some semblance of order, I'll be back. R.A.S., July 21, 2008}

Talk about writer's block. Should I break up events by decades or just log them in as I recall them? Here it is July 21, 2008 and I'm mentally stuck. I'll be back. -----[Apr. 8, 2001- While I was taking a walk today, I got to thinking that after a real marriage , it is rather hard to think of yourself as a separate individual. Ergo, how can I describe my life over the past 50 years except as a cog in the family wheel? From now on, I think, more "we" will be related.]  


We learned of the Kennerdell Art & Music Festival maybe in the early 70's and gave it a whirl. Held in rocky, wooded Wilson Park just up the hill above the town, it was (and is) a relaxing spot to visit on a hot August Sunday afternoon.
Art of many genres was displayed on rough boards spanned between trees or on make-shift tables. Lunches or snack items were available. In mid-afternoon, symphony music, provided by a dedicated orchestra of talent, flowed from the bandshell. Sometimes carrying new craft items, and for now sated with aesthetic output, we retraced our way over the Allegheny River bridge, up the Scrubgrass Valley and headed home.


In 1991, Dr. W_____, who was giving me yearly check-ups following his successful treatment of my palpitating heart, ordered a full blood test. A week or so later I was notified that the PSA test showed elevated numbers. A follow-up biopsy showed that I had prostate cancer.
My daughter Becky, who was an able M.D., guided me to a dependable surgeon. When radical surgery was proposed, I agreed and asserted that I would rather be a live eunuch than a dead sexpot!
After the successful operation, I was ensconced in a VIP patient's suite due to the fact that my doctor daughter was affiliated with the hospital. The upscale furniture and appointments were noted. They included apartment-sized appliances, overstuffed chairs, a writing table, and other extras. Yes, they were duly noted but I must confess that I never did feel well enough in my hospital stint of recuperation to fully appreciate the elegance.
A Post Script-Before one of my last appointments with Dr. W-----, who was an immigrant from India, I pocketed an anna coin which I had brought with me from the same country. When he had finished checking me over, I offered him in jest the anna as payment. He enjoyed the fun and as he inspected the coin he advised me that his kids had never seen one as they had been born in the U.S. So I gave him the anna as a gift to his children as a memento to their family's past.
In February of 1969, our car was on its last legs. Dad had quit driving by then so he offered to loan us our "honeymoon" car, the 1950 Chevy. Randy, neighbor Rollie Swank and I went down to Zelienople to drive the Chevy home. It was no longer registered, so we attached it to the rear of Rollie's station wagon with a fairly long nylon pull rope. Then we motored slowly home with both autos under power. After paperwork was completed, Dad gave us the car outright. We used it for another year or so before I sold it to an antique car buff for parts.


I must 'confess' here that I am and never was a 'reader.' Oh, I read diligently what was required for my various classes and really enjoyed most of the offerings. It is clear that I never got 'the bug'. Occasionally I'd experience a stretch of bona fide interest or a filling for boredom. I had a skein of Max Brand westerns. My ultimate favorite was the series by Hervey Allen which started with "The Forest and the Fort." The author had me hooked, impatiently waiting for the next volume. Then the ornery son of a bee committed suicide before the tale reached a decent conclusion. I once launched an attack on the bible and faithfully read every word. I determined for myself that it is not the direct word of God. God would never waste my time with those 'begats!. The National Geographic was only a picture magazine in my early years but now I read them. I end up most friendly with fact as opposed to fiction. Some titles I can recall, although their writers are forgotten, are:
The Secret of the Canyon (by Grandad Stump)
Forever Amber
The Seawitch
Geography in Human Destiny
The Kama Sutra
The French Revolution


'Twas not until 2008 that I walked thru a security check for the first time and hopefully the last. It was at the Lawrence County courthouse where I had gone to simply get an up-to-date local road map. I presume that this check point was installed to protect judges, prosecutors and witnesses from vengeful criminals.

After Barb suffered her stroke, she was working to regain her speech. This therapy consisted of attempting to enunciate lists of certain words which contained the targeted sounds. After finishing saying a list with quite limited success, she vented her frustration by very clearly and loudly pronouncing
"s__t!"

Barb finally ended up with a set of lower choppers. They never seemed to fit. With certain foods, she was apt to remove them to manage eating with more comfort. She did this once at a McDonald's, wrapping the teeth in a napkin so as to be unobtrusive. After dining, the table items were gathered up and thrown into the trash receptacle. Once outside, Barb realized half of her dental equipment was missing. With some loss of composure, she notified a fast-food employee inside who dutifully scrounged through the garbage and recovered the ill-fitting pearly whites.


By chance, I found this poem tonight (11-17-03) which surely reflects many of my feelings about my wife Barbara, who by now, has been physically subtracted from my life and those of our family members and friends for over nine years....


barb

This poem so nicely explains how one can be so grateful for having been a part of a departed loved one's life, that our hearts grow "far too glad for tears."

Then and Now

Beneath her window in the fragrant night
I half forget how truant years have flown
Since I looked up to see her chamber-light,
Or catch, perchance, her slender shadow thrown
Upon the casement; but the nodding leaves
Sweep lazily across the unlit pane,
And to and fro beneath the shadowy eaves,
Like restless birds, the breath of coming rain
Creeps, lilac-laden, up the village street
When all is still, as if the very trees
Were listening for the coming of her feet
That come no more; yet, lest I weep, the breeze
Sings some forgotten song of those old years
Until my heart grows far too glad for tears.

 --by John McCrea (who penned In Flanders Field)



Offered February 2009 as, hopefully, an unfinished manuscript!



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