| 

| Jon
Kennedy, Nanty Glo Home Page webmaster and owner, is a former teen and campus
minister. He began his journalism career as teen columnist for the Nanty Glo Journal
and its sister weekly newspapers from 1957 to '62 and became the Journal's
third editor in 1962 at age 20. He has edited other newspapers and magazines,
and more recently, webzines, ever since. His articles have appeared in the Los
Angeles Times, Detroit Free Press, Cleveland Plain-Dealer, Christianity
Today, and many other publications. His Jonals appear here each Monday, Wednesday,
and Friday. |
Kishacoquillas
Valley and return to New York Monday, August 18 - vacation journal, part 7Photo gallery related to this day's journal (58 photos) Index
for all vacation journal pages and photo galleries
During my time
as editor of the Nanty Glo Journal, (1962-65) the most important feature
I initiated was a series of cartrip journals named "Pennsylvania Places."
Each week that summer, after that week's paper hit the streets, my buddies Clem
Deffenbaugh and Stewart Wertz and I would pack my Ford Fairlane and head out for
some attraction worth seeing within a half a day's drive from the Valley. Stewart
took the photos and I gathered the pertinent facts to turn into travel features.
Though I don't remember most of the sites we visited, none was more impressive
than the Kishacoquillas Valley, which my dad had introduced by describing it as
one of the most beautiful places he'd ever seen. Though I believe he was familiar
with the proper American Indian name for the valley, he preferred to call it the
Big Valley, some years before a weekly network western series used that name in
reference to California's San Joaquin Valley. Having
noticed around Lewistown and Juniata County a lot of references to the Kish Valley,
when my newfound cousin Bonnie Bair offered to show Mike and me around a little
on Monday morning, I mentioned how much that valley had impressed me and she seemed
to agree it would make a great nearby daytrip. Her brother Danny Kennedy and she
met us in her Blazer at our motel in Burnham. After breakfast in an appropriately
country-themed cafe, we cut off on a back road to our first stop, an Amish farm
owned by a carpenter who had worked on a major remodeling project recently finished
on Bonnie's home. This was the first time I'd been on an Amish farm, though I'd
driven by many in Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana. At the road a handmade sign
advertised fresh produce and other items for sale. We entered the lane that wound
past a shed and the barn to the back of the house, where a stand was set up, displaying
very appealing vegetables, especially corn in the husks and tomatoes of varied
strains and sizes, but all beautifully ripe. I didn't try to resist the temptation
and bought a bagful. Mike asked the boys attending the stand, who might have been
12-year-old twins, if he could take a picture of the stand, and they nodded and
jumped back out of the picture. When their younger brother. maybe six, didn't
follow their lead, one of the older ones yelled to him in German (Pennsylvania
Deutsch), obviously ordering him to get out of the picture.
As
we turned the Blazer back out the lane, a litter of piglets, as cute as puppies,
ran out from under a cover and across the lane and into another covering, too
fast for our camera but taking enough time to give us a moment of awe. Our
next stop was a privately owned fishery or fish farm, where we enjoyed looking
at the fish, swan, goose, and a friendly terrier who walked from the house down
to the pond to greet us. Then on to a local winery, which we were told is one
of 149 belonging to the Pennsylvania wineries association, a growing industry
in the state. We tasted several of their fruit-flavored wines, like blueberry
and raspberry, which were delicious but, alas, I was told they're too sugary for
diabetics. Next Danny drove us on to a large Mennonite super market specializing
in natural foods. (Technically, Amish, Mennonite, and German Brethren churches
are part of a radical 16th Century reform movement known as the anabaptists. Amish,
or "Old Order Mennonites" hold their services in homes and unlike the
others eschew modern machines like electrical motors and appliances and internal-combustion-engine
vehicles. Danny and Bonnie told us that after a spate of barn burnings a few years
ago, most Amish farms now have a telephone for making 911 calls, though they're
not inside the houses.)
We
then drove up the westerly side of the valley, or ridge, which gave us spectacular
views of both the Kishacoquillas and the Ferguson Valley. The latter is west of
Kish and is not nearly as cleared and farmed. Mike could hardly stop taking pictures
on the beautiful day, just as I couldn't keep adding more of them to today's gallery,
even though there is lots of repetition. Returning to the valley, we drove through
the immaculately manicured town of Allensville, the most sizeable town in the
valley. We were told that it is overrun by visitors to its weekly farmers market
on Wednesdays. We made a last stop at a unique market specializing in local foods,
for mid-day snacks to hold us through our drive back to New York City. Danny challenged
Mike to try some of the pickled beef organs.
We
said goodbye to our newly acquainted relatives back at our motel. Having been
pleased with our Super 8 Motel at Burnham, we used the chain's directory in the
room and their toll-free number to book our last night of the vacation at a Super
8 in South Hackensack, New Jersey, for about $65 for two queen-size beds. What
an improvement over the White House Hostel, which cost almost as much. We arrived
there well before dark, with plenty of time to drive over the George Washington
Bridge back to Manhattan, where we saw Times Square, finally, in all its glittering
glory, and walked from there to 53rd and Seventh Avenue where we enjoyed an excellent
dinner in a French-style brasserie, seated outside in the warm night.
Webmaster
Jon Kennedy |