Tag Archives: Maureen Hart

Just a Thought…

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By Maureen Hart

I thought I’d follow up last month’s column, which was places I recommend you to visit, with my own bucket list of places I’ve never been, as well as places I’d never visit again.

  1. Greece and the Greek Isles would be tops on my list. I have the most romantic vision of Athens and Mykonos, Santorini and Crete, Rhodes and Olympus. I’m drawn not only to the ancient architecture and monuments, but to the deep turquoise seas, the music, that food.
  2. Provence. I’ve been to Paris and Normandy, but never to the south of France, and I’d love to see the fields of lavender, the Cote D’Azur, the scenery that evokes a Van Gogh painting.
  3. Scottish Highlands. It has become a joke in my family that one must see the Highlands. In the three days I spent in Edinburgh, every cab driver and waiter asked us the same question: “Have you been to the Highlands?” It has come to encapsulate a never-seen, most-wonderful destination for us.
  4. The Outer Banks. I’ve been to many beaches, including Waikiki, Acapulco, Rehobeth, Alicante, and Miami. But I’ve never been to North Carolina’s famed Outer Banks, and it remains on my bucket list.
  5. Cape Cod. I’ve been to the Cape, but only for one brief weekend, and I still remember the quahogs. I don’t know why I have not been back. It’s driving distance, to be sure, and I think I need to return. In the off season.
  6. Tuscany. Technically, I’ve been there, on a day visit to Florence. I saw the Duomo and the Uffizi Gallery and that should be good enough, I suppose. But I’d love to rent a villa in the hills, with an olive grove and sunflowers, and take day trips to places like Siena or Pisa. Then I’d drive over to Venice, and especially to Verona, because, of course.
  7. Chicago. I’ve only ever driven straight through this city or transferred planes at O’Hare, which, of course, doesn’t count. I’d love to spend a few days exploring the great city of the Midwest on the shores of Lake Michigan. And I wouldn’t mind watching the Cubs or the Bears if they were in season.
  8. Seville. I once planned a month-long driving tour of Spain, and of the major cities, I left off Seville, reasoning that it would be easy to book a separate trip to the Costa Del Sol and take a side excusion to the quintessential city of Andalucia. Of course, we never did get back, and every time I see a photo of a Spanish senorita wearing a long mantilla in a horse-drawn carriage in the plaza in Seville, I realize I made a big mistake.
  9. Brooklyn, New York. Oh, I’ve been to Manhattan countless times, and love it. I’ve driven by the Brooklyn Bridge. But I’ve never been across that bridge to see the borough that has become one of the trendiest places in The Big Apple. I’m not particularly trendy (okay, I’m not even a little bit trendy), but I’d like to try the coffee shops and sit in the parks and maybe catch a play that’s off Broadway but not in the Village.
  10. Ireland. I don’t know why I never got to Ireland, since I’m part Irish and I love the music, the people and the pictures of the scenery. Maybe it’s nothing like I imagine, but I know I’d love to spend an evening or two or three in a pub listening to Gaelic songs, munching on mussels and drinking Guinness.

***

There are lots more places I’d like to see, of course, but I realize I won’t get to most of those listed above (Cape Cod and the Outer Banks are possibilities, maybe). And, although I like almost every place I’ve been, there are a few sites I’d skip.

  1. Dominican Republic. I was probably in the wrong place, and it certainly wasn’t horrible since we were guests of friends staying in a magnificent villa on a golf course. But the juxtaposition of this wealth compared to the lot of Dominicans living in roofless shelters shared with roosters was a bit too drastic. I’m also unused to servants at my beck and call and felt uncomfortable having people waiting on me. Unless I’m in a restaurant.
  2. Factory tours. In Puerto Rico, it was the Bacardi factory; in Sorrento it was cameos, and in Spain it was leather goods. If you are on a tour that take a little bypass to a factory, chances are you will end up buying something you didn’t intend to purchase. Plus, it takes away from the places you really want to see. The rum factory was no substitute for the beaches, and watching artisans carve cameos was somewhat interesting, but it cost us precious time at Pompeii.
  3. Shore excursions. The same thing as factory tours. I haven’t been on a cruise in many years, and I did like the two that we booked. There is loads to do onboard the ship, which is much more the point than the stops along the way, which are invariably rushed. To conserve time, we signed up for shore trips sponsored by the cruise lines. These are invariably rip-offs featuring overly sweet punch drinks, floor shows by native dancers, and straw markets. I never saw the beach in the Bahamas, but I did see lots of straw tote bags.
  4. Boardwalks. I know I’m in the vast minority, but I am not a fan of tacky boardwalk staples such as cheap tee shirts, cotton candy, sticky fudge, amusement rides, and throngs of people.
  5. Amusement Parks. Yeah, I did them all when our daughter was young, and I felt it was my parental duty to get nauseous on some twirling ride. I did the roller coasters, the merry-go-rounds, the railroad trains. For this I should get some kind of free pass into heaven, because truth be told, I hate amusement parks. I went through a phase where I loved Disney World, because it was much more fun to buy Minnie Mouse caps and ride It’s a Small World than the rides at Dorney or Hershey. We had breakfast with Cinderella – what could beat that if you have to be in an amusement park? But I’ve even reached my limit with the Disney experience, which is a sure sign of growing old. I’d rather read a book by the pool, which probably means I’ve forfeited my free pass…….
  6. Daytona Beach. Let’s get this straight. I like views of beaches and ocean much more than I actually like being in the sand or getting knocked over by waves. Let’s just say that a lovely deck overlooking the shore is a good thing. That said, I have seen some of the most beautiful beaches in the world and loved them. What I did not like about Daytona was that the sand is hard. Duh, they drive cars on the beach. And they have the Daytona 500 there. And a Biker Week. I hate car races and motorcyles. So, out of all the beaches I can think of, this is my least favorite. One good thing: St. Augustine is very close by, and that’s a whole other story.
  7. Myrtle Beach. Same as above, only substitute millions of golf courses and seafood buffets for the race cars and motorcycles.

Just a Thought…

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By Maureen Hart

Back when I was 12 years old and in junior high school, I wrote my first-ever article for the school newspaper. They published it—with my byline—even though the paper looked more like a pamphlet than an actual newspaper, I was hooked on writing.

I took three years worth of journalism classes in high school, where I was copy editor for a newspaper printed on glossy white paper—the same shiny paper we used when I became co-editor of The Beacon at Wilkes College (now University). Luckily, we changed to newsprint during my tenure there, and I felt like it was a “real” newspaper.

Out of college, I took a short detour into public relations for the Osterhout Library in Wilkes-Barre where I produced and moderated a book review show called “Between the Lines” for Channel 44. It was interesting but not what I wanted to do.

But when I got an interview with the late Al Williams at the now defunct Scrantonian-Tribune back in 1972, I was back where I belonged. One of my early articles at the Trib, on page one no less, was a first-hand account of my experience during the Agnes Flood. I was supposed to move to Scranton on the same day the flood hit Wilkes-Barre, and instead was stranded in my apartment as the waters rose higher and higher. That article made me a minor celebrity for a day or two, since there was not yet a lot of news coming out of the drowned city.

I began at the Trib when the composing room was filled with hot lead and the type was set by hand, backwards. It was a quintessential newsroom right out of “The Front Page,” filled with lots of crazy characters and cigarette smoke. Dunmoreans like Guy Valvano (our sports editor) and the late Tom Casey (our courthouse reporter) helped make working at the Trib a joy.

In time, we moved on to computers, which would now be so antiquated you would laugh. But we thought we were cutting edge.

When the Trib closed, I joined the quixotic quest to start The Sunday Sun, which struggled along for 13 months before closing. I had learned a lot through that experience, but I thought my newspaper career had reached its end and started doing some substitute teaching. Then, as fate would have it, my future husband John Hart (little did I know) and the late Bob “Moose” McCarthy roped me into helping them with yet another venture called The Scranton Weekly, and after that, I edited The Dunmorean when it was a weekly.

I left the business in 1997, but came back in 2005 and to “help” John with one edition of the monthly version of The Dunmorean, and as fate would have it, I’ve edited every issue for the past 10 years.

We were bobbing along as usual until last month when a bright and energetic journalism student at Ithaca College joined us for a summer internship editing copy. A native of Dunmore, Emily Fedor has proved to be a major asset from day one, but I’m certain her biggest contribution will be her suggestion that we start an online edition of The Dunmorean.

Emily put together a sample of our June newspaper to show us (you can see it at our website) and, when we absolutely loved it, she agreed to join our staff as online editor. Her edition of the July issue of The Dunmorean will be online this Friday, July 3.

The good news for us is that we have entered the 21st century. A large majority of people get their information online nowadays, and it was time for us to get on board. The good news for readers is that, even if you enjoy the printed version (and we hope you do), you can now augment that with extra stories and information featured online.

Since we do not have subscriptions—we are a free newspaper, as will be our online edition—this will make it easier for people who do not have an opportunity to pick up a print version. It will be a way for Dunmoreans who live out-of-town to share the same news as the people back home.

So, I hope you help us spread the news if you have family or friends who are missing Bucktown and its hometown news.

To view our online edition go to: www.DunmoreanNews.wordpress.com. (If you’re reading this online: Congratulations! You’ve found us!) In addition, please look at our new Facebook page, and I humbly ask you to “like” us.

If you do like us, you have Emily Fedor, a rising journalism star from Dunmore, to thank for that. I’m not at all embarrassed to admit that we old fogies have learned a lot from her already!

Just a Thought…

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By Maureen Hart – Editor

It’s June—the month to honor graduates and fathers and bridal couples. It’s got me thinking about my father and how he deeply influenced my life. If I had to name the people who have made a difference in my life and made me into who I am, my dad would top the list.

James Klaproth was a member of the Greatest Generation, and that should tell the story. He taught us about values, dedication, hard work, the importance of family, friendship, love of country, and sheer optimism. (How did people who came out of the Depression and World War II maintain that optimism?)

Even today, as a senior citizen—in fact I am older than my father when he died—I sometimes gauge what I am doing or deciding by what my father would think. That’s not a bad thing. It’s not like I’m trying to please somebody—it’s a matter of trying to do the right thing.

Dad told us how his mother managed to raise six children in the 30’s and 40’s, when people struggled for every penny and every bit of food on the table. He made it sound like fun. He remembered all the good things—he was grateful for everything they had and figured they were better off than most people.

Dad told us stories about his experiences in the Navy in World War II. He even made it sound funny—like the time the tender from his supply ship hit a big battleship in the harbor. Before the little boat could even pull away, the Seabees were over the side of the big ship making repairs. He was in Japan during the occupation after the war, and he came away imbued with an appreciation of that country’s amazing culture. This taught me not to hold grudges, to find the best in people and situations.

When the time came, he encouraged me to go to college and be all that I could be. His college experience had been affected by the war. He studied engineering for a time at Lehigh and at George Tech, and when the war was over, he used the GI Bill to attend Wilkes University, which became my alma mater. In fact, I was born on a day when my father was taking mid-terms at Wilkes. Although she knew she was in labor, my mother kept it to herself and hurried him out of the door so he wouldn’t miss his exam. When my turn came, my dad wanted me to live on campus and have a typical college career. That was a gift.

I have been so influenced by him. I favor the old World War II songs (I’ll Be Seeing You, A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square) that he would play to us on the organ.  He, not my mother, took the time to teach me cook.

He appreciated my every accomplishment, overlooked my deficiencies and gave me that greatest of all parental gifts—unconditional love.

He also gave me memories.: One Christmas when he made a beautiful castle out of sugar cubes, with shiny turrets (Christmas spire ornaments) covered in glitter. The times he packed us up in the car for a day at a local state park, giving a chance for sunshine, swimming, picnicking. The times he made us penuche (a kind of fudge) or what he called “Buffalo potatoes” (sliced potatoes fried on a griddle) or taught us card games, including one grotesquely named  “Blood and Guts” which my brother and I play to this day.

He took time for Monopoly and Scrabble, for watching TV with us, for making popcorn, and listening to our woes. He mowed the lawn and took out the garbage and made us cocoa and made life seem grand for we five children.

If it sounds like Ozzie and Harriet, it was and it wasn’t. There were challenges. My brother and sister are mentally challenged. Another sister suffered from clinical depression, and my parent’s marriage was strained by my mother’s unhappiness with a woman’s role in the 50’s and early 60’s. She wanted to be something glamorous, a stewardess (it was glamorous back then), an actress, a detective—anything more than what she was. She was just as dissatisfied with life as my father was exuberant about it.

He showed us the joy of simple things. He taught us the value of hard work tempered by lots of play. He taught us to shoulder on, even when things are tough. (My parents divorced. It was a major blow to this whole-hearted family man.) But he never complained. Not once. I wouldn’t trade my childhood for anyone else’s. I wouldn’t trade my father for anyone else’s, not even a little bit. I remain eternally grateful for his love and his lessons. Rest in peace, Daddy, and know that you did a great job.