| Genealogical Photo Book by Barbara Bohm Kochmit |
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Barb Kochmit has created what is now a treasured family keepsake. In paraphrasing Barb's words, the book is a virtual reunion and visual family tree capturing the family for the future. The photo book covers the family in pictures, names, dates, celebrations, occupations, events, poems, and mystery photographs. Each of the 40 pages of this family treasure is a visual delight with careful layout and well-chosen backgrounds for the text and images. The book is an artful and smart way to preserve family memories and as Barb says, "much better than strangers in a box." Strangers in a Box is a poem by Pam Harazim. It appears in the photo book and it is reproduced below. Barb is a 3rd cousin, her great-grandfather Robert Joseph Byrne (1861-1914) is the brother of my great-grandfather Thomas J. Byrnes (1852-1934). In the picture to the left is Gus and Pauline Byrnes (upper left) and Pauline Hayes Byrnes (lower right). Five pages of the book are presented here. Thank you Barbara Bohm Kochmit. |
Tuesday, March 17. 2009
Family Home in Barnesboro, PA
Summers Long Ago
| Summers Long Ago by Dave Potchak |
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My two daughters were just kids, under age eight, and we were visiting in my (and my wife's) hometown of Beaverdale, Pennsylvania. We took a walk and leaned over the handrail on a bridge to see kids playing barefoot in the creek below. There was a baseball game going on in the field next to the creek and the sounds of young kids playing filled the summer air.
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I found my thoughts returning to those years growing up in a coal-mining town. And then my older daughter asked in a tone meant to wake me up, "WHERE are their parents?" The kids playing in the creek and on the baseball field unsupervised opened her eyes like a crab pinching a toe. But to me, the scene slipped by as normal. Wow! I thought. How the times have changed. My kids have never seen other kids playing in such places as a creek, a baseball park, or anywhere else for that matter, without some parents around. NO parents! What a sight for my daughters to behold! Even in their youth, they recognized the oddity in the fact. How could those parents leave those kids unattended? Friday, March 13. 2009
Fly Fishing on Walnut Run
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In the mid-1950's there was a huge railroad bridge within walking distance of the school in Barnesboro, Pennsylvania. Several times I walked to that bridge to tempt fate after school. Sometimes I went with friends, sometimes alone. I don't remember playing down on the banks of the West Branch of the Susquehanna River there but I remember that bridge. The sides of the bridge were black and seemed to be made of iron, maybe it was wood. What I remember most was the space between the railroad ties which spanned the bridge. We could either balance and walk the rails or carefully step from railroad tie to railroad tie. It seemed like a long, long way down to the muddy, orange brown water. The bridge was at least five times higher than the one in the picture. |
| It also seemed to be a long, long way to the other side of the bridge. Walking across that bridge seemed to me to be a death defying feat. Added to that was wondering what would happen if you were halfway across and a train came. It seemed like certain death. I didn't believe there was room to miss the train by jumping and leaning tight against the side of the bridge. I think the noise of those thunder machines would have been enough to make you lose your grip, except maybe if you were holding on for life. I never had to take that test, not then anyway. |  |
