The Donut King Restaurant in Ogdensburg, New York

CAROLYN’S COMPOSITIONS

THE DONUT KING RESTAURANT IN OGDENSBURG, NEW YORK

      The Donut King restaurant in Ogdensburg, New York, is a favorite dining place for my brother-in-law, Elwin. We ate there several times while visiting Northern New York in the last week of July, 2010. As commonly happens, local eating spots produce many stories.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

STORY ONE: Kim’s Opinion on the Banana Split

     While Kim, a waitress at the Donut King, took our orders, we mentioned that our hometown was near the hometown of Arnold Palmer and Mr. Rogers—Latrobe, Pennyslvania.

    And—“Don’t forget, Joe—what’s his last name? Of the banana split fame?” Monte said. “You know Joe, from the pharmacy where the banana split was invented.”

     Neither of us could pull up Joe’s last name. For the record, it’s Greubel. He is known affectionately as “Ice Cream Joe” in local and far distant areas: I do believe we were first (to produce the banana split),” says Joe Greubel, owner of the Valley Dairy ice cream chain in Latrobe. “I knew Dr. Strickler. And I still regret not having my picture taken with him.* He also owns the Valley Dairy Restaurant in Connellsville, Pennsylvania, where I had the privilege of interviewing him for a newspaper article.

~~~ 

     “Tell him to keep the banana split in Pennsylvania,” Kim retorted.

     This unusual response required an explanation, which I hastily requested.

     “They are

The Regal Fritillary Butterfly on Bergamot

THE REGAL FRITILLARY BUTTERFLY ON BERGAMOT

Or is it a REGAL Fritillary?

      This year, my yard has a spectacular, albeit it small, display of bee balm, a.k.a. bergamot. The blooms are light purple, with a smattering of red blossoms mixed in.

     Flittering about this bee balm are numerous brightly colored orange-with-black-and-silver Regal fritillary butterflies.

      On February 28, 1996, this species was moved from the endangered species list to the federal species of concern list.

~~~~~~~~~~~~    

     The original range of the Regal fritillary butterfly extended north from Oklahoma, then east from Montana and Colorado to the central east coast. Once, it was common in the natural grasslands, pastures, and wet meadows of the northeastern United States. However, in 2010, it can no longer be found in most of New England or the Ohio Valley. There are only scattered populations in the southeastern and south-central counties of North Dakota, and in the Sheyenne National Grasslands in southeastern North Dakota.

     Today, the only northeastern place where its exuberant flight can be observed is located on two hundred and nineteen acres at Fort Indiantown Gap, a National Guard Training Site in Pennsylvania. Another seventy-five acres forms a dispersal corridor.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~

     The Fort contracted with the Pennsylvania Chapter of The Nature Conservancy to assist in caring for this last Regal fritillary habitat. In January 1998 the Conservancy placed a project manager on the base to assist the National Guard’s efforts to protect this butterfly. In 2006, the Conservancy transferred its research and monitoring efforts to

Melanie

CAROLYN’S COMPOSITIONS

MELANIE

A limerick for Melanie—happy belated birthday…

~~~~~~~~~~~~

My mother named me Melanie

My last name, it is Stefanic.

I don’t like it at all,

When

I Wear My Cornell (University) Jacket Proudly

CAROLYN’S COMPOSITIONS

I WEAR MY CORNELL (UNIVERSITY) JACKET PROUDLY

     I wear my Cornell University jacket proudly, humbly.

     When I’m asked if I graduated from this prestigious university, I have an answer ready: No, not from the traditional University. I graduated from the Cornell University of hard knocks.

     You see, my maiden name is Cornell. I am the daughter of the late Robert William and Nancy Briskay Cornell.

     And like Ezra Cornell, founder of Cornell University, my father and I are descendants of the original Cornell settlers, Thomas and Rebecca Briggs Cornell. I carried the surname that came through the years from 1600, through the generations, until I married.  

     Mine was the typical dysfunctional family. Because my parents divorced when I was four, I didn’t re-meet my father until I was thirty-two. At the same time, I met four of his five children by his second marriage—three boys and a girl.  His fifth child, a son, from that same marriage, has no interest in meeting his father’s child from a previous marriage.

     The first thing Kitty said to me when we first spoke on the telephone was that she always

Cochran Cornell Caught on Flypaper: Part 4

CAROLYN’S COMPOSITION

COCHRAN CORNELL CAUGHT ON FLYPAPER: PART 4

This is the fourth and concluding part of the story of Cochran Cornell the cantankerous cockroach, who found himself caught on sticky flypaper and thought it was the end for him. To read Part 1, click on:     To read Part 2 click on:    To read Part 3 click on: 

~~~~~~~~~~~~    

      Their interest piqued, the ants gathered at the edge of the flypaper, raptly listening as Cochran told his story, ending it woefully.

     “And none of my so-called friends—nary a one—cared enough to stay with me and comfort me,” he whined angrily. “Do you think a one of them would care to devise a solution??? Oh, no.”

     The ants looked at each other before gathering in a huddle. Although they considered cockroaches scatterbrained creatures who disrupted their organized work by running all over it, they just had to help a

Cochran Cornell Caught on Flypaper: Part 3

CAROLYN’S COMPOSITION

COCHRAN CORNELL CAUGHT ON FLYPAPER: PART 3

This is the third part of Cochran Cornell the Cantankerous Cockroach, who finds his natural behavior gets him into trouble. The situation becomes so disastrous that he KNOWS his end is near. His friends abandon him, and he finds a creature so unlike him for support. To read Part 1, click on    To read Part 2, click on

~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Cochran might have noticed the flypaper laying across the countertop if his nature wasn’t so skitterish. Or at least he might have smelled the wonderfully sweet aroma identifying the danger. But the insult he was tossing over his shoulder to Lazybones was too good and it had distracted him from self-protection.

     And a well-deserved insult it was, thought Cochran as he recalled taking a flying leap over the platter, seeking a crumb of delicacy. Because he was looking over his wings at the oaf, he missed his target and

Cochran Cornell Caught on Flypaper: Part 2

CAROLYN’S COMPOSITION

COCHRAN CORNELL CAUGHT ON FLYPAPER: PART 2

 This is the second part of Cochran Cornell the Cantankerous Cockroach, who finds his natural behavior gets him into trouble. The situation becomes so disastrous that he KNOWS his end is near. His friends abandon him, and he finds a creature so unlike him for support. To read Part 1, click on

~~~~~~~~~~~~

     The faces in the cockroach community expressed horror at seeing one of their own in a situation of certain demise.

     The organizational response, most stopping dead short in their path, lasted only a moment before their roach nature brought back the chaotic scooting. Running past each other, bumping into each other, they commented on the situation.

     Gradually Cochran’s multitudinous progeny gradually arrived as they learned of his dilemma. It was a demonstration of the power of gossip that the news of his certain demise traveled so far in such a rapid time. Some of the community cried softly, others wailed and sobbed and quite a few

Cochran Cornell Caught on Flypaper: Part 1

CAROLYN’S COMPOSITION

COCHRAN CORNELL CAUGHT ON FLYPAPER: PART 1

Cochran Cornell the Cantankerous Cockroach finds his natural behavior gets him into trouble. The situation becomes so disastrous that he KNOWS his end is near. As his friends abandon him, he finds a creature so unlike him for support. Click back to find the continuation of the saga, which will be filed under Cochran’s writings on this blog www.carolyncholland.wordpress.com . 

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

     Sunbeams shone through the window, heralding the arrival of spring while illuminating the craggy corner and making visible the dust bits dancing through the air. This light dismayed Cochran, who normally skittered helter-skelter to a dark crack in the wall or hid under an appliance at the first inkling of any kind of light. But today was different. Today he was stuck, literally imprisoned, unable to escape the abhorrent brightness that descended in the room.

     The previous hours were innocent enough as Cochran enthusiastically earned his title “cantankerous curmudgeon” by systematically

Mika’s Escapades

CAROLYN’S COMPOSITIONS

MIKA’S ESCAPADES

      My restaurant leftover doggy bag meal went to the dog—literally.

     The July 6th evening was just cool enough to sit on the patio, where I was enjoying leftover spaghetti and meatballs from the previous night’s dinner at a local restaurant—a two-for-one deal where only half the spaghetti was sufficient for me, so I made two meals out of the serving, making it a three-for-one deal.

Ummm...ummm good! People food is GREAT!

     My neighbor’s dog, Mika, was lounging on my porch, subtly eyeing me while I ate. I was ignoring her.

     The phone rang. My husband asked me to check on something, so I stepped into the house for a moment. Just for a moment. And a moment is all it took.

     I heard the crash, And I knew

Aboard the Boston Transit System

CAROLYN’S COMPOSITIONS

ABOARD THE BOSTON TRANSIT SYSTEM

Nancy Lipsius

Nancy Briskay Cornell Lipsius is my mother.

She passed away January 3, 1998.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

No one smiles anymore.

Not the gray flannel executive,

Or the neon-lighted secretary.

Not even the brown tattered bag lady

Or the blue serge policeman.

It’s as though the chambers

Of their minds

Are empty caverns echoing

Dim, far-away voices.

Their eyes, brown blending

Into blue

Stare unseeing,

With never a blink.

Time jerks the strings of

Their limbs to sudden

Movement

To

Nowhere.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~

ADDITIONAL READING:

OBITUARY FOR BLUE BUOY (A Blue Lobster)

RIGHTING A CIVIL WAR WRONG: A Gravestone for a Civil War Veteran

Enoch Arden and Louis des Isles: Story Plots

Dock Creek in Philadelphia, PA

IN SEARCH OF THE ARABELLA: A Story of Two Boats