Excerpt: "the gray Papp" by Ronald Rabenold

She spoke, in fine articulacy as did the sinograph on the side of her neck
That said, “see the cloud’s expectant rain,” along with the gray in her name,
Did not do justice to the optimism she spoke.
Her story walked along a straight wooded road, of no intersection, of no interaction,
The folk seemingly frozen in time, the further one walked alone or together, the further the travel
Found more and more expectant people who increasingly greeted with suspicious warmth,
It unexpectedly revealed the sameness and repeated patterns of her own stuck world,
Showing the perpetuity of lessons said and not mingled with,
Though such thought was betrayed by her articulate story.
She conveyed hope, a longing for the protections of her own home, a little insurance, perhaps her own phone....

...Her mother did not understand the rules of working, under the table, she was as expectant in her flatness
As her father, who could only drive bicycle, hoped for the flat road ahead, one always filled with holes,
But he failed to make that connection and could not acknowledge it, like how the expectant joy from a child,
Is sapped and slowly leaked, even before the child arrives, the gray guilt taking years to overcome,
The clarity arrives much too late. This short conversation, one I didn’t expect, allowed me to understand the
meaning in sallowness, though without knowing the calligraphy, the understanding and the expectancy
Of it rolled down the basin sides, letting it swirl, then finding the drain.

Moravians: First Carbon Settlement 1746

Today I hope to give a quick overview of the first settlement of Carbon County. Though I could go on and on here today, (ask any 5th grader at Lehighton Middle school for my propensity to do just that) the rest of this fascinating story will be touched upon in the future.
Most people are familiar with the notion of how many of our ancestors, the Pilgrims and Puritans in New England, the Quakers of Philadelphia with William Penn and Roman Catholics with Lord Baltimore, came to escape the persecution of church-states back in Europe.

(Photo: Earliest known sketch of the settlement by a man named Garrison c. 1749, discovered at Zinzendorf's Herrnhut estate.)
Same can be said of the Moravians. Though not persecuted by the Lutherans, they separated themselves from the other protestant faiths of Germany. They were an industrious, family-based faith that went forth as missionaries. Many sought sanctuary on the estate of Count Nicholas Ludwig von Zinzendorf of Saxony and in time, were drawn to the New World to spread their message.
Count Zinzendorf and his followers first started a settlement in Georgia in 1735 and by 1741, more in Pennsylvania. They established the settlement of Nazareth and later Bethlehem along the course of the Lehigh River, so named becuase of their arrival there on Christmas Eve. The Moravians were also musically talented, a legacy that lasts to this day as evidenced in the Bach Choir, Music Fest and Martin Guitar.
Zinzendorf left no grass grow beneath his feet and out into the back country he explored in search of Native souls to save, establishing friendly relations with those he met. One night settling down after dark, he awoke to find himself surrounded by rattlesnakes, and was able to arise unscathed. Zinzendorf used this anecdote as proof of the providence of God’s work he was carrying out.
Eventually, he found himself halfway between the Lehigh Gap (modern day boundary of Lehigh and Carbon County) and Mauch Chunk Gorge (modern day center and county seat of Carbon County) and what is today modern day Lehighton. This would become the new mission, an outpost of love and peace to accept heathens to the Christian faith. The name they chose: ‘Gnadenhutten’ meaning ‘tents of grace’ or ‘huts of mercy.’
The settlement began, in 1746, at the confluence of the Mahoning Creek and the Lehigh River, reaching up the hillside to what is today Bridge Street from Fourth to Seventh Streets.

(Photo: 1907 view of South Fourth St, nothing in view here remained from the original settlement.)

The Moravians and Natives are said to have worked side by side, clearing the tangled brush that still grows there today. After their permanent dwellings were established, work began on common buildings such as a meeting house, a grist mill, and as necessity began to warrant, a tiny graveyard to the rear.
The Moravians knew the success of the settlement and their outreach depended on their own self-sufficiency and diligent work. But they were not immune to the problems of many settlements, namely the spread of the deadly Small Pox that was particularly virulent to the Native population. This would be a harbinger of things to come.
(Photo: Burial site from the Massacre as it looks today.)

The Walking Purchase, a swindle by Thomas Penn in 1737, was another dark cloud that loomed over Gnadenhutten, a storm that took nearly twenty years to unleash itself in the Gnadenhutten Massacre of November 24th, 1754. This within the larger storm of the French and Indian War which brought Ben Franklin to the area to build forts for settler protection. All these and other interesting sidebars will be saved for future posts.
I hope I have entertained and informed you today. Enjoy.

Packerton Yard & President Reagan

What ever possessed the artist to fling his creativity onto the wall of the Packerton Yard building back in the 1990s?
Whomever created such a skilled piece, to give of one's own energy, is such a resplendent gift, given freely to the countless, the nameless. To tuck such an interesting work, into a vacant, cold, open building boggles my mind. Someone saw a canvas, felt an expression, and anonymously gave of themself. Though it is gone, it is a gift I still appreciate today.


















Our county commissioners have pinned hopes of an economic revival at this site, tearing down the last standing building of this historic place, the last visible evidence of our railroad's heyday. These pictures are all that remain, the portrait now lost in the rubble, a reversed mosiac.


A few people have had some sneaking suspicions to the mystery aritist. The leads I have checked into, namely Manny DaCosta of Jim Thorpe and Joe Bauer of Lehighton have turned out to be unsubstantiated hopes. Though Manny, always the character, gave his reply using his best Foster Brooks shtick.


Can anyone shed some light onto this artistic mystery?

Where will any of this lead?

Ever ask yourself that question?

Did any of the miners of the #9 Mine in Lansford ever think as deeply as they traveled?

What was Josiah White's dream? does anyone really know just how ingenious he really was?

He invented hydraulic powered drills for the dry masons to use when boring holes into solid rock while building the canal. Many remember the storied Lower section of the canal from Jim Thorpe to Easton. Fewer realize that there was an "Upper Grand" section that ran from 'White's Haven' (White Haven) down to the Lower section. Immense dams were built to create slack water, then the boats were diverted to locks along the Lehigh River. And because the river depths were much higher than those on the Lower section, these locks were in the 30-50 foot range.
There are many lost skills and innovations that permeated this area. Did you know the Lehigh River once had hydroelectric generation, long before there was the concept of our current "power grid"? Take a minute to peek around the front of the Mauch Chunk Museum and Cultural Center on Broadway in downtown Jim Thorpe and you'll see one of the fist hydroelectric turbines ever used right here in our own Lehigh River.


Metaphorically, where has all this lead us? Where can we go now that we're here? There are plans afoot and I hope you will stay tuned.

Carbon's History - A poem by Ronald J. Rabenold

My Carbon County:
Give me a moment,
In your time and place,
Let me cross,
Your millions of years,
To see
The great gorge cut,
Let me see Sleeping Bear,
In her rested fold,
The push, the pressure, the hardened coal,
Give that to me,
Harden my role.

Send me on,
A father’s mission, to slow a son’s greed.
Let me cradle the truth for the Lenni Lenape.
Send me on
With Onoko, to the Hemlock and Oak,
Let me see Ginter’s find,
And behold Josiah’s dream,
Let me feel the buzz,
The Yankee energy,
When Foster and Packer,
Transformed the age for thee.

Give me the punch, from the Dry Mason’s hand,
Give me my peg on the Miner’s board.
Let me in and give me my role,
But let me out, to take in the light,
Keep me above and away,
Beyond the fray, beyond the Rope,
Beyond the Day the just betrayed.
Give me throaty shrills,
The squeal of steam atop the hill.
High up, looking down the plane,
Give me the sights, the speeds, the thrills.
Give me my mule,
To guide me through the lock,
Let me touch this land, this water, this rock.

Send me on
With the passion of Audubon,
The tact of Albright and
The back of the Mason.
Then I too can push mountains
And broaden horizons.
Give me
The wits of the coal miner’s wife,
To be wise and true.
Give me
The hands of the Breaker Boy,
To pick what’s best for you.

Give me
The dauntlessness of Boyle,
The inventiveness, the vision of White.
Then send me on a mission,
With the zeal of Zinzendorf,
Let me
Walk in the peace, of a Quaker’s son,
Then all our hopes can be one,
Send me on,
Send me on.

Now is my time and
You are my place.
Give me the vision you dreamed for me.
Let me stand on its pillar
So that I can see:

My Carbon County,
May I awaken,
Your dream for thee.

Carbon's History - Part 2 of 3

Give me the punch, from the Dry Mason’s hand,
Give me my peg on the Miner’s board.
Let me in and give me my role,
But let me out, to take in the light,
Keep me above and away,
Beyond the fray, beyond the Rope,
Beyond the Day the just betrayed.
Give me throaty shrills,
The squeal of steam atop the hill.
High up, looking down the plane,
Give me the sights, the speeds, the thrills.
Give me my mule,
To guide me through the lock,
Let me touch this land, this water, this rock.

Carbon's History - Part 1 of 3

My Carbon County:
Give me a moment,
In your time and place,
Let me cross,
Your millions of years,
To see
The great gorge cut,
Let me see Sleeping Bear,
In her rested fold,
The push, the pressure, the hardened coal,
Give that to me,
Harden my role.

Send me on,
A father’s mission, to slow a son’s greed.
Let me cradle the truth for the Lenni Lenape.
Send me on
With Onoko, to the Hemlock and Oak,
Let me see Ginter’s find,
And behold Josiah’s dream,
Let me feel the buzz,
The Yankee energy,
When Foster and Packer,
Transformed the age for thee.

Laughing in Moderation

The guarded one, the "don't smile or your face will crack" one, the full giggly belly one, the one at a funeral, the one at the little child inside yourself, the last one, the first one of the day, the one at all the mistakes you've made, the one from your wedding day, the one you thought you'd never have again...

How many have you clutched and saved?
How many did you let go by, ignored?
What then are you saving them for?

Tonight we're going to see Jim Gaffigan
at the State Theater in Easton.

Enjoy.

A March-like Day

We're in Winter's winter and March seems to be marching in.
It definitely felt Marchy today.
I saw high light on both my drives.

I reminded my nephew he reminded me of Dylan, Hemingway, and Gabo, all rolled into one.
I should have told him how much I loved him too.

I don't know if I should have been listening,
I don't know which lullabies were supposed to last,
My ancestors' hasty, angry stomps
Dazzled me on my dreariest days...
I hope they can 'go forth,'
Despite my humbled, vagued intentions...

I've waded through gray guilt,
But I think I was the one who was repugnant.

I thought of pinwheels and carousels too.

I'm fond of Gabo's "A Fear of Death is the Ember of Happiness."

Emerson: "If the stars should appear but one night every thousand years how man would marvel and stare.”

Let it Swirl

Sometimes I gather,
Sometimes I stand in starkness.
And when I’m good, I can let it swirl.