My American Future is in Martinsburg, WV, USA

For ancient Indian tribes for centuries who left behind their burial mounds, for pre-American revolutionary pioneers, during the American Revolutionary and Civil Wars, and until today with Route 81 and major state roads as well as the railroads, Martinsburg, West Virginia has always been at the crossroads of the American nation. 

Now, it is time to return to traditional American values. Best to live where they still apply and people still follow them. 

Where the majority understands the American Constitutional Republic, sacrifice to keep it alive, and the value of service to others.

Most importantly, with the changes about to happen in this Constitutional Republic and the increasing need to protect one's family, the development has only one way in and one way out. 

So, my wife, who grew up on an orchard in West Virginia, convinced me we needed to move to a safe, secure, piece of land with real Americans.

We sold our house in Mt. Airy, rented a farm house for a year, and went house hunting.

It was time consuming and frustrating. The policies of the leaders of this nation and their Communist Chinese Party owners have ruined everything, including the housing market.

But we persisted and doubled down. My wife, having grown up on an orchard, loved the orchard areas we found in Berkeley County, WV.

One Sunday she saw a sign for a yard sale. Thinking it might mean a house was for sale, she pulled into Mountain Crest development. It is surrounded on two sides by orchards, had an equestrian center at the entrance, and a wildlife preserve on a huge mountain behind it. Not surprisingly, many Veterans live there. 

So we just bought a house and a plot of land in Martinsburg, West Virginia.

We are currently having it painted, the electric redone, and conducting other home improvements to move in soon. 

As my wife and I both work from home, it is good to have separate rooms for our work. We even have a spare bedroom for when our grandson visits. 

And there is a pool out back for him to enjoy. What a great land America is. When I was in grade school, I delivered the Philadelphia Inquirer to a rich guy who had a pool. As long as I cleaned it every time I used it, he let me, and my friends use it...as he rarely used it.

Now I have a home with a pool. Never thought I would see the day.

We were actually looking to downsize and purchase a small one-story home. The market offered nothing, and God had other plans for us apparently.

We look forward to enjoying our children and grandchildren on this land and surrounding wilderness. There is a HUGE wildlife are just behind us we look forward to exploring.

We are in the discovery point and enjoying the wonder of it all.

We meet new people like the hard working brothers painting our house. As one said, "My Dad always said we need to paint each house like it was our own." YES! Old timey values.

Billy and the Curley Brothers, coming off their wild success playing in Frederick for the past two years, will soon be playing live music in the Martinsburg area and advancing American culture. 

The family diner where we ate had traditional Christian sayings on the wall. The traditional diner downtown Blue and White actually had a pay phone in the corner. 

More importantly, he will have a quiet studio to record his new songs. What a gift to observe that creative process. 

Eamon will join us in the basement to live for a time to pay off his truck and save money to buy a house. 

We are going out on weekends and fixing up the house and property.

Busy working on the house each weekend, especially Robin cleaning the interior until it is immaculate, we have had to find new restaurants as there has been no time to cook.

I even now have a man cave. The prior owner ran electric to the shed to do serious woodworking. The shed was a total mess with saw dust and wood pieces everywhere, but it had potential. 

For weeks I been able to clean it out, added Reflectix insulation material to the walls, and am now at the point where I can create my tiny world to share with my grandson.

As a student of history, especially Western and American history, I look forward to learning the rich history of Berkeley County.In 1748 George Washington, at the age of 16, surveyed present-day Berkeley Country for Lord Fairfax. A drive around the Washington Heritage Trail inspired by General and President George Washington's horseback explorations will be a great introduction. It follows two historic east/west passageways into America's first frontier: the Potomac River and the Alexandria Warm Springs Road that is now WV9 crossing the WV panhandle. What a deeply meaningful area to explore and learn old timey, traditional, Christian, Constitutional Republicans...we are free.

This new property was owned by a birder.  I have always loved birds. My mother raised us with the saying, "Feed the birds and you will never go hungry." 

She would take us to feed the ducks at the nearby ponds and threw bread to the birds outside our home. 

He did such a magnificent job feeding them and building them little bird houses that I saw a cardinal up closer than I have ever seen one before. It will be a gift to watch these birds.

Major industrial and traveler railroads pass through Martinsburg. Most are carrying coal from West Virginia mines to the Baltimore port to go to the Communist Chinese Party.

But there is also an AMTRAK train that goes to Washington, DC.

At the Diner

 

 At the Diner,

love, hope and tragedy,

faith, broken lives

and buckets of warm coffee,

but most importantly,

fast and cheap good food

all mingle in cosmic proportion

to the big-tipping customers

and life-giving waitresses

who pass their moments in space

and time co-mingled in experience

of talk and talk and food and drink

and talk and talk and talk there.

 

At the Diner,

When the waitress says,

"What'll it be, Hon!" she knows

what it will be but still asks

and you still reply, "Usual.  Number 3."

you know it will be as good as before

and lickety split, three stacks wheat pancakes

golden brown and fluffy upon which you drop

a half stick of butter and a carafe of syrup

with marble sized blueberries inside

and toasted scrapple

and easy over country eggs

with buttered toast

before shoveling in

the Pennsylvania Dutch scrapple

with Heinz "57 varieties" catsup

as a roof on top.

As the first juicy pancake slice

slides down your throat

to your famished stomach

you start to hear Frank Sinatra's

 "Strangers in the Night"

and it seems as if love were

possible tonight, right here, right now,

maybe you and the waitress or the

girl much younger than you in that booth

with the unjilted smile and honey hair

that might consider you, Yes You,

in her life and dreams and future.

  

At the Diner,

so many memories crash through

the minds creeping depression to reveal

cracks in the thick walls of melancholia,

and openings where light and therapy from waitresses

who double as mothers and nurses bringing

good hearty food to souls who, due to life's

machinations, often forget to eat.

  

At the Diner,

so easily and languidly...

the mind drifts,

and my father sits in that booth over there!

I am five, and we have stopped 

for lunch in the middle

of the beer truck delivery run

and I have his undivided attention,

one of the few times

that would ever happen --

and he is regaling me

with stories of his childhood

of how during the Depression

he had to go to school

with orange shoes his mother bought

cheap and put black shoe polish on

except it rained and washed the shoe polish off

and all the kids laughed at him

and he was so embarrassed

that even as a kid he always worked two jobs

so he could afford good clothes,

and the time

they rolled so many old tires

down the street they were able to hold off

a squadron of police only to find

the police knew their parents

and they returned home

thinking they got away with murder

only to find their parents on the doorstep

waiting to give them a licking

 because the police,

who belonged to their same parish,

had visited before

and tipped off their parents

to do the punishing.

 

At the Diner,

in another booth,

Tony Fondots and I

 have stopped at a Circle diner

 in Southern New Jersey

coming back from the shore

and young and drunk and laughing

and goofing with some young girls who respond,

"I have my doubts about you Fondouts!"

in a play on Tony's name

and we all begin to laugh so hard

 the tears run down our cheeks

and this was way before a guy

who didn't like government employees

saw Tony had on a Postal Service shirt

and tossed him from a bridge in Norristown, PA

causing his pelvis to fracture in 186 places

and then got off because his Dad was able to afford

a better and slicker lawyer than Tony

 and offered this wisdom afterwards,

"Why do you think it's called

the criminal justice system? 

It's justice for the criminals."

 

At the Diner,

in another booth,

My body is old and spent

like that guy at the end of the movie "2001"

and does not respond too well to stimuli

like talk or thought, but the food

warms my mouth and stomach,

the coffee is good and hot,

the waitress is kind and funny

and ignores my drooling on my plate.

The pancakes fill my hunger

just before my heart stops

its power-plant strength contractions,

and it is all over...

 

(Or so I thought...)

 

...Until, at Heaven's Gate,

I'm hungry and tired

from too many years on the road

and stop in this diner where St. Brigit

immediately brings me ice water

and hot coffee, winks, and says,

"What'll it be, Hon!"

and I wink back and say,

The usual.  Number 3. 

"Pancakes and scrapple. 

And another cup 'a java, please?"

and she smiles back and says,

"You betcha! It so happens

I just brewed another pot

because we were expectin' ya, Hon!"

and we both laugh in that Diner

and let the tears run down our cheeks

to bring water and love and strength

to all the diner customers on earth. 

At the Diner was first published  in Lynx Eye, “At the Diner,”, Vol. III, No. 1, Winter, 1996, pages 79-83, Pam McCully, Editor, 1880 Hill Drive,  Los Angeles, CA, 90041.