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Tuesday, May 1, 2012

My Home Town

      
I was born in Kingston, PA, and moved to Wilkes-Barre in 1968. I spent the next ~14 formative years of my life there.

Outside of an occasional car, bus or bike ride…I walked ~1/2 mile to GAR Memorial Jr./Sr. High School for 5 years , and then about 1.5 miles or so to Wilkes College for another four years. From Plains to Warrior Run, and from Buttermilk Falls to Joe Palooka Mountain...and a summit or two beyond...I walked, ran and/or biked through just about every field, forest, alley, intersection and neighborhood on both sides of the Susquehanna River. During high school, some friends and I walked from the Heights to Tomo’s Riding Stables and back at least once or twice a month. And with one or two minor exceptions, I never had a problems or concerns with any of my ambulatory expeditions - day or night. Overall, it was a pretty safe place to grow up.

Between machete attacks and random shootings, I know things have changed quite a bit in the past ~30+ years since leaving the area. I have definitely seen the  gradual “diversification” of my former neighborhood as kids moved out of their multi-generation family homesteads to “bigger and better” places. Until recently, I did not truly understand how much the human fabric that made it such a great place to live a generation or two ago had been torn asunder. 

Twenty+ years ago, upon receiving some money from the estate of a relative, my wife’s family decided to gift St. Mary’s of the Maternity parish with a shrine to Mary.  Over 70 years ago, my wife’s grandfather played a very active role in the parish and, from what I was told, was instrumental in raising funds to help build a new church in the ~early/mid-1900’s on the site of the original wooden structure, which dated back to 1886. I was baptized & married in this church. 
 
Fast forward 20+ years. My daughter and I happened to be in town this past Palm Sunday, and attended Mass at the now consolidated “Mother of Hope” church. After Mass, I decided to stop by to see Mary’s shrine. I immediately noticed, among other things, the damage to the statue and the missing “Donated by…” plaque. It was upsetting to me to see the broken fingers and gouge to the statue’s head. When I mentioned the damage to my mother-in law that afternoon, I learned for the first time, that the plaque and statue had been stolen many years ago, and after a month or so searching, the statue was found dumped in an alley a few blocks away. The bronze plaque was never found…probably sold for scrap.

I decided that I wanted to explore having the statue replaced, and called the next day and left a message at the rectory. Within an hour or so, I received a return call. After explaining who I was and what I wanted to do, a very appreciative priest declined my specific offer to buy a new statue of Mary. To summarize/paraphrase his reasoning; he was afraid the new statue would ( sooner vs. later ) come to share the same fate as the original. I could elaborate and share additional comments made about his view of the state of affairs in my hometown, but I will leave that to the conjecture of the reader.
  
I have roots in the Wyoming Valley dating back many, many generations. In addition to some of the original settlers in the mid-1700’s who met their Maker at the Battle of Wyoming, I have WWI, WWII and Korean War veterans, police chiefs, miners, breaker boys, mule-tenders, engineers, factory workers and hard-working stay-at-home mothers among my many ancestors. My maternal ( Gold Star ) grandmother walked ~3/4 mile to St. Mary’s every day to attend Mass until she became too weak from cancer to make the trip. Members of my mother’s and wife’s family were among the first and last graduating classes at Marymount.  As a kid, I remember what living in a close-knit neighborhood and what true “pride of ownership” looked and felt like. How about you? Remember those days when you could leave the doors unlocked...when you could count on your neighbor to lend a helping hand?  When did that all change...and why?




The statue of Mary was imported from Italy and cost over $1,000 two decades ago. Regardless of what you believe in…or not, I hope you would view the desecration of someone’s private property and/or this statue as being wrong. Sad as it may be, I know there are folks out there who view it as nothing more than a sculpted hunk of marble. Synagogue, chapel,  mosque...or a beating heart, seems nothing is held as being sacrosanct anymore.

Except, of course, the almighty $.
 



My old hometown? She just ain’t what she used to be.
 

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