Dedications
To our adopted children:
Jeffrey, Debra, Lisa, Gregory,
Who gave my wife Jean and me a lifetime
of love and pleasure.
Thanks to my daughter Debbie for the typing, layout and cover design.
Poem by Helen Steiner Rice
The greatest need in the world today is love…
More love for each other
and more love for God above!
Great is the Power of Might and Mind
But Only Love
Can Make us Kind…
And Only Love
can completely fill
The Hearts of Men
with Peace and Goodwill!
Helen Steiner Rice
From Someone Cares – The Collected Poems of Helen Steiner Rice
Copyright 1972 by Fleming H. Revell Company
Old Tappan, New Jersey
Prose, Poetry and Short Stories by Robert J. Stock
The following prose
and poetry were
written by
Robert J. Stock.
Jean
Joy she gives me
Every starry night
And with the moon
Never so bright.
Vivacious and vital
Enchanting is she;
I feel in my heart,
Love – it has to be.
So sweet is her smile,
The blue of her eyes;
Oh, what fair skin!
Clear as can be.
Kissable lips – meant only for me.
Bus Talk
“Red and White Bus Line, Tickets Purchased Inside” is scrawled on the window of the drugstore in the small “railroad” town of Cresson, PA. Although Cresson is a “railroad” town, most of the populace who desire to visit local towns, ride the bus, because of the few number of “locals” on the Pennsylvania Railroad; the fact is even railroaders must ride the bus, unless lucky enough to “catch” one of the two trains which stop at Cresson daily, or fortunate enough to own a car. At least three-fourths of the Cresson male population work for the railroad.
A bus leaves Cresson every hour on the hour. At 10:00am a railroader, dressed in the blue overalls, wearing a blue and white stripped cap, boards the bus for Altoona. He undoubtedly works in Cresson and lives in Altoona. and he undoubtedly will pass a man on another bus coming in the opposite direction, who lives in Cresson and works in Altoona. He shows his railroad I.D. card to the driver, waddles past two or three empty seats, and asks a plainly dressed housewife sitting in a double seat, “Is this seat taken?” Smiling, she quips, “I saved it for you”. Chuckling, he says “Thank you!” and plops down in the seat. After getting comfortably seated, he says, “I usually don’t ride the bus to Altoona – I take the train. Can you tell me the route it takes?”
The woman takes a deep breath and begins; “We go on the William Penn Highway and over the mountain to Duncansville. We’ll arrive there at 10:15. From there we go to Lohsburg, past the A&P, Matts Barbershop, Johnny’s Beer Parlor, and should arrive at Liken’s Drugstore at 10:22, if we are on time; most of the time this bus is late though. Then we follow the Wopsononook Avenue through Lohsburg – I’d hate to live on that avenue; How does anyone learn to spell it? We stay on Wopsononook until we come to Mae Gardener’s Vegetable Stand, then turn left there and hit 115th, street which takes us right into the bus stop. I’d know the route better, if I rode the bus more often”.
“Where do you live?”
“I live in Cresson. I have lived in Cresson all my life. My name’s Maria Laskowsky, my maiden name was Janco. You probably know my dad, Jim Janco. He, at one time, worked for the railroad.
“The name sounds familiar, but I don’t think I’ve ever met him. My name is Henry Grull. I’m the foreman on a signal gang. What does your husband do now?”
“Oh, he’s a mechanic; you know, works with the motors and stuff. He’s a darn good man, a good provider for our four kids and me. The way prices are going up though, it’s almost impossible to get ahead.”
“Yea, my wife sent me to the Economy Store the other evening to get a couple pounds of meat; it cost me $3.90 for meat that looked like the scraps I used to get for my dog for nothing at the same store 10 years ago. Things certainly are high. I guess the farmer is the only one who will have anything to eat in another year or so. I spent the first twenty years of my life on a farm, and wish I’d never left. My wife was a city gal though, and there was no getting her on a farm.”
“No, I guess she wouldn’t even know how to milk a cow. My family moved off the farm when I was six years old. I wish Pete, (that’s my husband), owned about 10 acres. I wouldn’t want a big farm; it would cost too much for hired help. Why I remember when my cousin Harry worked on old Mike Longacre’s farm for $1.50 a day – I believe even for a dollar, when he first started. Things will never be what they used to be before the war.”
‘Were any of your family in the war?”
“I had three brothers in the army. Joe was a Buck Sergeant and he landed in Normandy on D-Day, or a little while after. All that fighting and the only time he got hurt was playing basketball in Camp Gruber, Oklahoma. I don’t remember anymore - he either broke his ankle or sprained it. Anyway, I remember him writing home and wondering how the squad, or whatever he led, could get along without him. My other two brothers are twins and went into the Combat Engineers together - you know the army tries to keep twins together. Well, they were on their way to Europe when the war ended over there and they weren’t there for more