Thursday, March 1, 2012

A nice start to the month of March. Thanks, people. Must be all those new items lining our shelves. The St. Patrick's Day and Easter cards are now on display; just remember that you save 10% when you buy five cards, any sentiment, at one time . . . Was musing about our early history. Lots to think of when you are 40 years old. I recalled that in the very early years we issued an every-now-and-then newsletter that described our merchandise and provided bios on the craftsmen who were showing new product. And what was the name of that Bare Wall newsletter, you might ask? Why, Graffiti, of course . . . And speaking of newsletters, I might recommend that you Google Mt. Gretna Newsletter sometime. JJ and family have a summer home there which he calls The Jungle House since it is secluded among trees and his dad Eric forwards me the monthly goings on in that community. Very interesting even when you don't know the people mentioned--just like this blog, I hope . . . I need some longtime residents of our neighborhood to assist me with this next story because I cannot recall the names exactly. Many years ago Michael and Gary lived in an apartment on North Street. Both worked at least part time at the old Paper Moon/Key Largo restaurant which is now Mangia Qui. Anyway, if I remember correctly, Michael's parents lived in the West Fairview area and he discovered that a flood had deposited lots and lots of daffodil bulbs on the riverbank there. He dug up a basketful and planted them in the tree wells up and down North Street. This was years and years ago and Michael passed at an early age but the little clumps of bulbs continued to spring up each year. I tell you this because today I took a brief walk outside and at the corner of Green and North found two clumps of leaves popping up to welcome spring. Bob doesn't think these produce flowers anymore but I feel certain that I saw blooms there just a year or two ago. What a lovely remembrance of a wonderful guy. Maybe someone can tell me Michael's last name . . .

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