Tag Archive: Mountains


Still Water Lakes_1995

“Mountain Life”

“SHAMAN”
By
Gregory V. Boulware
https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/1545662-shaman-fairmount

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The medicine men and priests among the Indians were usually merely those men who thought more deeply and strenuously than the average men in the tribe. These thinkers tended to live among the more successful tribes. To think, one needed at least some time free from the chore of procuring food.
Native American tribes did not call their medicine people “shamans.” This is a New Age term often misapplied to Native American Spiritual Leaders by people of European descent, self-professed “medicine” people and their followers.

Native Americans, New Agers, and charlatans alike have radically augmented and revised the tenets of traditional Native American religions. “Crystal skull caretakers” sit beside Native American medicine men and medicine women, shamans and priests, and “Star Beings,” rather than buffalo, are pondered. Outraged Native Americans have entered this fray, castigating those they see exploiting traditional Native American spirituality.

These medicine men or spiritual leaders were in a different class than the other men of their tribe. This special status was not dependent on their hunting and fishing. Contact with other tribes enabled thinkers to build and expand their belief frameworks, so medicine men or spiritual leaders were more prevalent in tribes that were accessible to outsiders.

As contemporary Native American religious flowerings are best understood by first examining the origins of Native American Spirituality, all of the contemporary sects are best comprehended in light of the traditional religions. As these differ from their New Age and Christian versions, each group is also unique compared to other traditional sects. These traditional sects are best understood as a conglomerate by investigating a few individual traditional Native American religions.
Indian medicine men, spiritual leaders, priests and shamans
http://www.aaanativearts.com/medicine_men.htm

Chief Gerald Glenn, the Medicine Man, was second only to the chief in importance and standing within his tribal group. His duties involved both religious interpretations and pharmacology. A good medicine man became adept at both and as a result, he was often thought of as one who possessed magical powers. Before William Penn’s holy experiment, human impact in the Pocono Mountains by Native Americans and European settlers was minimal.

The Pennsylvania Mountains was one of the last colonies to be settled in the northern region of the state. The region remained wilderness until pressure from European settlers caused and influx of Native Americans from Maryland and the Carolinas’. Glenn, a direct descendent of the Lenape Chieftain of the Penn and Lenape Peace Treaty, 1682, Chief Tammany who died in 1718, was his great-great-grandfather. His wife, a Huron Princess, reared sons who took over as Chief of Nations along the Delaware Water Gap. They lived in peace with the residents of Stroudsburg, founded by Jacob Stroud in 1799.

The villages of the mountains raised buckwheat and rye, a big crop with potatoes, maze, oats, cattle, sheep, and hogs. Chief of his village as well as Chief of the Northeastern regional Forestry and Parks Services, Ranger Captain Glenn; like his, people are also members of the Northwestern Indian Confederacy in the Mountains of Pennsylvania, New York, and Canada. The tribal members are The Cree, The Creek, The Ottawa, The Seminole, The Huron, The Cherokee, The Algonquian, The Ojibwa, The Shawnee, and The Lenape Nations. Glenn continues his leadership in the protection of his people, their land, their tribal beliefs, and their heritage. Glenn’s mother was of Creek/Seminole descent while his father was the Tribal Chief of The Shawnee-Lenape (Munsee-Minisink) of Ontario Canada and the Poconos.

Willice Samuel’s family arrived up North from Georgia by way of Winnsboro, South Carolina. The family settled in Coatesville Pennsylvania, in or about April 1911. Willice’s Great-Great Grandfather talked about a lynching and burned at the stake murder of a Black Man by a mob of white men who wore masks. He said the Black Man; named Zachariah Walker was accused of shooting to death a white cop; named Edgar Rice. He was supposed to have been a special police officer in Coatesville. He went on to say, “The Colored Man was chased and treed in the woods in or near the Robert Faddis Woods near Youngsburg.

The Black Man tried to shoot himself in the head, but failed. They took the Black Man to the hospital were his injuries were treated. A gang of white men broke the window in the main hallway, corralled the police officer guarding him and dragged the Black Man from his sick bed to the Sarah Jane Newland Farm just to the right of the road and almost directly opposite the farmhouse. In a grass field about fifty feet from the road, they gathered dried Chestnut Rails and old fencing to build a fire. It took all of three minutes to get the fire up to a height of ten feet or more. They asked him if he had any last words…he didn’t. He was then thrown into the fire. The flames burned his clothes and seared his flesh – he managed to leap from the fire-pile and jump over a fence. They caught him and tied a rope around his neck and dragged him back onto the burning fire. Walker tried two more times to get out of the bonfire. He tried to get out of the seething furnace of hell. But he was beaten and pulled him back on the burning pile with each try.”

Great-Great-Grandpa continued on with the graphic details. “The sickening smell of burning flesh permeated the air. Folks came from all around to see and take pictures of the burning Black Man. They laughed and drank liquor. Their children had fun too. This all happened on or around Saturday April 12, 1911…we packed and moved to Philadelphia.” The Willice’s are descendants of America’s lucrative Industry of Black Slavery.

“The understanding of the racial question does not ultimately involve understanding by either Black or Indians. It involves the white man himself. He must re-examine his past. He must face the problems he has created within himself and within others. The white man must no longer project his fears and insecurities onto other groups, race, and countries. Before the white man can relate to others he must forego the pleasure of defining them.”

~Vine Deloria Jr. – Samuel L. Katz, Black Indians, a Hidden Heritage~

For the people of the ‘Americas’ the arrival of Columbus was hardly a blessing. On his first day, October 12, 1492, the explorer wrote in his diary – “I took some of the natives by force.” He later found the original inhabitants to be tractable, peaceable, and concluded ‘there is not in the world a better nation.” His response as a European was to say that Indians must be made to work and adopt our ways.

The Columbus whose unique seamanship opened the Americas to European penetration also began the transatlantic slave trade. He started by shipping ten chained ‘Arawak’ men and women to Seville, Spain. In 1498, he wrote enthusiastically to King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella about the business possibilities. “From here, in the name of the blessed Trinity, we can send all the slaves that can be sold.”

When he loaded 1100 ‘Taino’ men and women aboard the four Spanish ships, the crowding and the stormy Atlantic crossing took a fearful toll. Only three hundred survived. But Columbus and Spain had decided to continue the profitable slave trade from the Americas. Seville became the slave capital of Spain.

Spanish Priests were the first to denounce the horrors of bondage. In 1511 Dominican Friar Montesino called slavery a mortal sin and said cruelty and tyranny over Indians could not be justified by Christians. A few years later Bishop Las Casas, who witnessed countless Indian massacres by his fellow Spaniards, blamed greed for the horrors.

“They kill them because they want to be rich and have much gold, which is their sole aim.” Las Casas concluded that in the New World Spaniards had become devils and Indians were the only true Christians.

Las Casas led a determined effort to halt Indian bondage. He pointed out that Indians died off by the thousands from slavery and European diseases. Forced labor in Spanish mines in the Americas was so harsh that the average worker died before he was twenty-six.

To meet their need for more laborers, Europeans looked next to Africa. The strongest sons and daughters of Africa were seized in their homes and fields or purchased from local traders. They were packed into cargo ships and shipped across the Atlantic.

“Children are torn from their distracted parents; parents from their screaming children; wives from their frantic husbands; husbands from their violated wives; brothers from their loving sisters; sisters from their affectionate brothers. See them collected in flocks, and like a herd of swine, they resist; but all in vain. No eye pities, no hand helps.”

~Thomas Branagan~

The first Africans brought to the New World by European slavers probably arrived in April 1502 aboard the ship that brought the new governor of Hispaniola, Nicholas de Ovando. Soon after they landed, some Africans escaped to the woods and found a new home among the Native Americans. Later that year Governor Ovando sent a request to King Ferdinand that no more Africans be sent to the Americas. His reason was simple – “They fled amongst the Indians and taught them bad customs, and never could be captured.

Why did he feel they could never be retaken? Had the two peoples united as a military force at this early date? Were Native Americans prepared to drive off European slave-hunters? Was an alliance taking shape in the woods between two peoples who opposed the Spanish conquerors?

Governor Ovando described more than a problem of bad, untrustworthy servants. His words are more than a complaint about the difficulties of recapturing fugitives in a tropical rainforest. His words are the first hint of a growing problem for the European masters of the New World, the first notice of a new relationship budding beyond their control.

Africans arrived on these shores with valuable assets for both Europeans and Native Americans. They were used for agriculture labor and working in field gangs, something unfamiliar to most Indians. As experts in tropical agriculture, they had a lot to teach both white and Red people. Africans had a virtual immunity to European diseases such as smallpox, which wiped out Native Americans.

For Europeans seeking a source of labor that could not escape, Africans were ideal because they were three thousand miles from home. They could not flee to loved ones, as Indian slave could. African men and women who fled could always be identified by skin color, and Black became the badge of bondage.

Native Americans soon discovered that Africans had some gifts that made them uniquely valuable. Through their slave experience they qualified as experts on whites – their diplomacy, armaments, motives, strengths, and weaknesses. Escaped slaves came bearing knowledge of their master’s languages, defenses, and plans. Sometimes Africans were able to carry off muskets, machetes, or valuable gunpowder. For these reasons their role could be crucial to Native Americans, their place secure in village life. A common foe, not any special affinity of skin color, became the first link of friendship, the earliest motivation for alliance.

Next the two peoples began to discover they shared some vital views of life. Family was of basic importance to both, with children and the elderly treasured. Religion was a daily part of cultural life, not merely practiced on Sundays. Both Africans and Native Americans found they shared a belief in economic cooperation rather than competition and rivalry. Each people was proud, but neither was weighed down by prejudice. Skill,    friendship, and trust, not skin color of race were important. Since Indians willingly adopted people into their villages, Africans found they were welcome.

In the century following Columbus’s landing, millions of Native Americans died from a combination of European diseases, harsh treatment, and murder. Africans took their places in the mines and fields of the New World. The estimated 80 million Native Americans alive in 1492 became only 10 million left alive a century later. But the 10,000 Africans working in the Americas in 1527 had by the end of the century become 90,000 people.

These figures are even more striking within local areas. In 1519 when the Spaniards arrived, Mexico had a population of 25 million Indians. By the end of the century only a million were still alive. The invader calculated that more profit would be made if laborers were worked to death and replaced. In their plans pain and suffering did not count, and no cruelty was considered excessive.

Out of the shifting labor forces a new population emerged of mixed Africans and Native Americans. By 1650 Mexico alone had and African-Indian population of one hundred thousand. Anew race was being born.

In 1510 King Ferdinand, visions of gold dancing before his eyes, lifted all restrictions on sending Africans to the Americas. He promised to send all that were needed and include “a trustworthy person” to be in charge of each group – an overseer. In this way, slave and masters would “share in the gold they may collect” and slaves would receive “ease if they work well.” This was an idle dream.

The slave population expanded, but was never rewarded with ease for its great toil. European masters continued to drive those in chains as hard as they could. Ease only came when people escaped to the forests and swamps. Increasingly Africans and the remaining enslaved Indians fled their masters and created their own secret colonies beyond European eyes. In time these would pose the most disruptive challenge the European colonial system faced in the Americas.

In the age of Columbus and Las Casas this threat was not clear. Europeans counted their profits and kept importing African as slaves. “One Black can do the work of four Indians.” Here, he believed, was a danger worth the price. His fellow Europeans heartily agreed with him. From then on slavery would expand, brutality would keep it in place, and whites would reap enormous profits.

The city is gearing up for a major visit from the ‘Vatican’ in the fall. The massive fallout of visitors and followers threaten complete and utter gridlock throughout the town. This major event was thought to be trumped by the ‘DNC’ convention that is sure to shut-down the city and create traffic fallout of nightmarish proportions. The catastrophe at the Philadelphia Zoo was no shot in the arm for peaceful and trouble-free contentions. ‘Rocky’ made his mark at the very same spot the ‘Pope’ is making his ascension to the podium for the mass commemoration throughout the commodious accommodations for the passage of blessings; touching all the people. Two investigators are assigned to cure this killing cancerous attacker from spreading its evil intent, in this virtual garden and smorgasbord of fresh fleshy meat to eat! Witness the terrifying events as they unfold…Glenn and Samuel along with Philadelphia’s citizenry, its counsel leaders, and mayor on one of the most thrillingly dangerous and deadly missions to serve and protect. Gerald Glenn and Willis Samuel are faced with one hell of a dilemma when a juggernaut on a rampage erupts in blood; ‘Fairmount Park’ and “The City of Brotherly Love and Sisterly Affection!”

“FAIRMOUNT”

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18466439-fairmount-terror-in-the-park

https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/23367249-gregory-v-boulware

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“Mountainfolk Hospitality – Subtle Progression 1913 – 2013”

Pocono Manor Stables

Pocono Manor Stables


By
Gregory V. Boulware

Pocono – A “Stream Between Two Mountains.”

The Pocono Mountains are a popular recreational destination for local and regional visitors. While the area has long been a popular tourist destination, many communities have seen a rise in population, especially in Coolbaugh Township and other communities within Monroe County. The region has a population of about 340,300, which is growing at a rapid pace, largely attributable to vacationers from Philadelphia, New York, and New Jersey turning vacation homes into permanent residences. The region lacks a major population center, although there are municipalities such as Stroudsburg, East Stroudsburg, Mount Pocono, and the townships around them. Monroe County, where the population is 165,058, which is about half of the total population in the Poconos – located in northeastern Pennsylvania.

The Poconos, located chiefly in Monroe and Pike counties (and parts of Wayne, Carbon, Luzerne, and Susquehanna counties), are an upland of the larger Allegheny Plateau. Forming a 2,400 square miles (6,200 km2) escarpment overlooking the Delaware Valley and Delaware Water Gap to the east, the mountains are bordered on the north by Lake Wallenpaupack, on the west by the Wyoming Valley, and to the south by the Lehigh Valley. The mountainous region is a defined area encompassing portions of Carbon, Monroe, Pike, and southern Wayne counties of Pennsylvania. In total, the Poconos encompasses over 2,500 square miles (6,500 km2). The Poconos are geologically part of the Allegheny Plateau, like the nearby Catskills. The Poconos’ highest summit, Elk Hill’s North Knob, reaches 2,693 feet (821 m), while its lowest elevation is 350 feet (107 m) in Pike County.

The wooded hills and valleys of these beautiful mountains have long been a popular vacation area, with many communities having resort hotels with fishing, hunting, skiing, and other sports facilities.

The Delaware River flows through the Pocono Mountains and gives the region its name, from a Native American term roughly translating to “Stream between Two Mountains.” The Lehigh and Lackawaxen Rivers also flow through the region, totaling about 170 miles (270 km) of waterways.

Today, seemingly, it’s not the name, it’s the face. The Indian culture in this beautiful mountainous region does little in the reflection for the indigenous souls of this un-obscure heritage. The Pocono’s have, in the past, reflected a spirited kinship between its inhabitants and arriving settlers. Today, the region has become diseased with the stain and stench of capitalism. It’s beautiful and serene routes of traverse, trails, hills, and valleys have all been corrupted with signs that display marketing and competitive targeting for the dollars and cents of all who come to visit, pass through, and/or settle.

“If You Know I Have A History, You Will Respect Me!”

A ‘Black Indian Woman,’ a student said that in 1968. William Katz wrote extensively about the history of ‘Black Indians’ from coast to coast in America. His books have endorsed and included stories and historic facts about Black Folk and Indian relationships.

“Citizens celebrate this country’s daring break from colonial rule, and rejoice in the plucky minutemen who challenged the British at Lexington and Concord. Black Indians made a contribution to the entire US society that deserves recognized consideration and inclusion.
For the earliest European colonists, the Americas were truly a land of opportunity. They came from a continent torn with religious strife. Kings, nobles, and merchants regularly dragged their people into land and sea wars. The plight of ordinary men and women was terrible. About two percent of the population owned ninety-five percent of the land. Common folk wallowed in poverty and want, without hope or security. They were forced into labor battalions or conscript armies. In a democracy, majority rules…are there truly more white folks in America than the combined number in folks of color?

Everywhere a rigid intolerance held sway. Europeans lived by a rural British slogan:
“He’s a stranger, hit him on the head!”
Europeans greeted the people of the Americas with hostility and a lust for profit.

In dealing with non-Christians, they saw little reason to observe common rules of ‘fair-play’ and rarely did. They tramped into the American wilderness with a Bible – (dictated and practiced according to their desires and needs) – a musket, and a diplomacy that knew no rules.
Black Indians, like other African Americans have been treated by writers of history as invisible – their contributions were denied or handed to others, i.e., ‘Jean Baptiste Pointe Du Sable,’ (son of ‘Sacajawea’ – The Lewis and Clark expeditions) was “The Founding Father of Chicago” – circa, 1779.

White folks in the Pocono area should be reveling in pride and joy of their diverse community and not the green of the dollar bill. All people should be reminded of who did what for the betterment of all – not the meager few who would promote superiority and separation. The forty-fourth president of these United States is, after all, the product of diversity or a racially blended culture. A golfing legend is another fine example of the common good – diversity. Barack Obama and Tiger Woods are simply two current bi-racial figures of US prominence. But, oh yes, they too face discrimination, separation, and hated by evil, envious, and villainous white folk. No one in these United States misunderstands the definition of the “One Drop Rule!”

Africans began arriving in 1502 by European slavers. The ship that brought the Hispaniola governor, Nicolas De Ovando, wrote Katz.

‘They sure as hell wanted their money – while not wanting their presence!’

A couple in their early sixties has been frequenting the Pocono Mountains for more than two decades. Racial disparity has always been noticed…while in many circumstances tolerated, ignored, or accepted. For the most part, the dollar factor ruled over many in the position of hospitality.

After a day of shooting eighteen holes of golf, the couple, married nearly forty years; with two adult sons and two beautiful grandbabies; decided to end the warm and sunny late afternoon with a cooling and refreshing pitcher of beer.

The mountain resort, of which they were housed, provided no such available refreshment. Having some knowledge of the many area shopping and entertainment spots in the Mount Pocono Region, they ventured out into the arena of the local mercantile in search of the thirst quenching liquid. The week-long vacation accommodation was located in the locale of ‘East Stroudsburg, Pa,’ just off route 209. There were not many taverns or beverage sit-down places available in the immediate vicinity. Upon the discovery in patches of blended old, new, and not so new buildings – the one available establishment availed itself to invite weary and not so weary travelers and patrons into its’ abode.

The inviting and invitationally large and plaquered cadence of the sign read:
“GOLFERS WELCOME!”

Well, the contented couple pleasurably and enjoyably exhausted themselves with eighteen holes of golf. Albeit, ‘mini-golf.’ A senior couple (or individual) climbing up and down steep walk-ways, stairs, hills, creeks, rocks, grassy knolls, and other obstacles included in the fairway game fields, could very easily cause an older person to not complete the course while out in the beaming hot midday sun, let alone on a cool day. I mean, golf is golf, right?

The man and woman parked their vehicle and entered the white and green trimmed building founded with brick and mortar. The pub was a cute, quaint, table and chair setting with a small bar located in a semi-private corner of the building.
The establishment was catered by a couple of waitresses and a barmaid. It was a self-seating restaurant – a no-waiting for the maître d’ or hostess to seat you. The couple decided to sit at the bar. Food was not being sought, only liquid refreshment. A cold mug or pitcher was not available, according to Sandy, the self- manufactured robot-like bar attendant. The woman sported hair of orange, red, blonde, and another streaking color that wasn’t quite identifiable. She also appeared to be of a senior age as well. The man seated with his wife, suspected she was a tad younger than her mid-sixties exterior. Not intending to get to far ahead with this picture, I’ve failed to mention the chilly ambient reception of the couple after the establishment threshold was crossed.

I did mention that it was warm outside, yes? It was a rather nice day for a mid-May Wednesday late afternoon in 2013. The air was cool inside. The joint was jostled and bustling with busy cordial conversations. That all died when this couple entered the establishment. The cool room transformed into the polar ice-cap, feeling like that of the frozen tundra. The instantaneous silence was quieter than quiet. The eyeballs of the patronizing patrons fell upon the newly entered senior-aged mini-golfers who happened to be Black and White. The man, a 6ft. tall and formidable appearing gentleman brandishing awareness armored with a presence that demanded a commandment for respect and attention. The woman, a beautiful and petite German-Scottish descendent with golden blonde hair highlighted with a natural redness that could be described as strawberry. Her eyes, large and bright while iridescently hazel with green highlights that change in color upon the donning of a differently colored attire; intelligent with a mastering effect that netted immediate attention, respect, and admiration.

The barmaid gathered her composure and made a clumsy attempt at being a cordial and welcoming professional. She offered the food menu which was declined. The beer thirst was addressed and settled upon with the cold glass and bottled beer which was placed on the bar in front of the freshly seated patrons. The bar attendant forced a remanufactured smile and began to speak again while placing the glasses and bottles of beer on the bar.

“We only have bottled beer in the brands displayed on the shelf,” said the barmaid. Two white men, one possibly in his late fifties to early sixties, the other, clearly in his mid to late sixties, genuinely displayed an annoyance with the couples’ entrance. While not seemingly appearing to look into the eyes of the Black man, they did attempt eye-contact with the white woman, as if to say, “How dare you come in here with that!”

“We don’t have cold mugs but we sure have cold glasses.”
The woman behind the bar robotically looked at the stern, albeit, stoic face of the Black man and said, “What’s your name? I’ll run you a tab.”

The man answered politely with his name while tossing a smirking glance at his wife. The mind meld of the two allowed a smile between them.

“What makes her think that we would continue to sit here in a room filled to the brim with bigoted ambiguity and egregious aggregation? A tab…who said we wanted more than what we’ve asked for? What made her assume that we would spend our hard earned dollars with people such as them?”
The couple was well aware of the importance of income and revenue sources to locals of any rural job starved community.

What is the price for being unnecessarily rude and obnoxious?

The dollar factor becomes an overwhelming factor and forcefully allows people to look past the racial boundaries…momentarily. The transaction did hold some similarities, however. The couple, wanting the beer while not wishing to venture into another ride, travel, and search – the biased separatists coveted their money as opposed to the despised physical presence of the bi-racial couple.

The wife inquired masterfully, about take-out beer. The husband chose the brand of the six-pack. The dual glass of beer was consumed quickly; in just a couple of sips and a gulp or two. The wife produced a credit card, bartering the transaction and exchange. The barmaid processed the payment after fetching the bottled six-pack. The receipt which bared the coding numbers and server’s name is signed and the couple prepared to make their exit.

The couple tossed insincere, sarcastic, and mocking cordialities in the direction of the sinister barmaid. She was mentally forced to respond to the wife because of the intended loud and boisterous “Have a good day.” The woman behind the bar appeared to fancy herself as ‘pleasing to the eye of gentlemen,’ did not respond to the husband’s previous ‘Thank you’ gesture. She merely grunted “Yeah…right,” in response to the exiting woman. The elder of the two men at the bar, walked outside. The man who walked outdoors was sitting on a bench in front of the restaurant. He was smoking a cigarette while watching the couple enter their car. He watched the car with the president’s name on the rear bumper. The ‘99%’ statement shared a space on the bumper with the cadence sticker ‘Save Medicare’ as well.

The husband hesitated just before leaving. He wanted to see what the woman behind the bar was going to do with the used beer glasses. He held vivid recollections of what white owned bars and restaurants did back in the day, when Black patrons drank from their glasses in the ‘East Falls’ section of ‘Philly.’ They did not wash them – they destroyed them! The gentleman only saw the glasses remain on the bar after the beer bottles had been disposed of. He chose not to wait any longer.

The husband said to the wife, “Do you suppose she was mad because we didn’t leave her a tip?” The bill came to about $13.00. She replied, “Why would we leave a tip – our patronage was not appreciated or deserved!” The husband smiled in agreement as they drove away.

‘They sure as hell wanted their money – but not their presence.’

“It all started with Columbus’ 1492 arrival and invasion, in the name of Christendom.” His son, Diego, served as governor of Hispaniola, an island of Spain in the Caribbean, a colony was started on the mainland of South Carolina.

Lucas Vasquez de Ayllion of Santo Domingo founded the Eastern South Carolina colony at the mouth of the ‘Pee Dee River’ in 1526, eight decades before ‘Jamestown.’ Many white folks like to believe in the ‘Mayflower’ landing with English-speaking Anglo-Saxons. Ayllion sent Captain Francisco Gordillo, in 1520, to locate a good landing site and to build a good and friendly relationship with the current local inhabitants. Instead, the captain teamed up with a slave hunter by the name of Pedro De Quexos. The two invaders captured seventy native Indians and brought them back to Santo Domingo as slaves.
It was the first European act on what is now US soil – making slaves of FREE MEN and WOMEN. When he began ordering the Africans to begin building homes, he launched Black Slavery in the United States.”

You know…based on Indian history and the membership of the Algonquin Confederacy, wouldn’t it be prudent to focus our recognition and homage be given to the Delaware Indian Nation in the Pocono Mountains as opposed to who’s hotel, paint ball, of ski resort is better than who’s?

What about the disparaging superior and separatist attitudes of the capitalistic merchants and their servants of deception? Should they not be brought out and into the light of true goodliness, acceptance, respect, and fair play?

“The Delaware, a.k.a. ‘Lenape / Lenni’ (“True or Real Men”), a major member of the Algonquin occupied confederacy from Cape Hen Iopen to Long Island, center of the Delaware River Basin, were/are the most important tribal nation on the Atlantic coast. They occupied most of New Jersey, Delaware, and Eastern Pennsylvania. They were called “Grandfathers” by other eastern Algonkian, especially the ‘Nanticoke,’ ‘Shawnee,’’Munsee,’ and the ‘Mahican,’ who claim to be their descendents.

The peaceful, civilized confederation stands symbolic of the many Indian cultures. The Delaware Chiefs, or Sagamares, ruled through persuasion rather than force. The Medicine man, or Shaman, had considerable influence. Everyday life flowed between primitive agriculture, hunting, and preoccupation with the spirit world. They knew the ‘Great Being’ was/is the owner of the Earth. Wampum was not merely shell money, but possessed a sacred significance. In the Algonkian language, there are different plural forms for animated and inanimate nouns. Wampum was always animate… It was called the “White String,” “Old Dark String,” or “Indian Stones.”

What is the difference in the spiritual significance of Wampum and “IN GOD WE TRUST” green and metal American money worshiping by Americans of yesterday and today?

How many of us have heard the opposite for the possession of money – any kind of money?

Life was rather dreamlike. It held no sharp demarcation between the real and the spirituality of existence. Mountain life for the Indian entertained no political of military ambitions. They held no distain or hatred for people or travelers who looked different than them. They simply drifted along, slowly and inevitably, to their destiny at hands of the whites.

The vacationing couple did identify the offending establishment on rte. 209,in East Stroudsburg, PA. They warn kind spirited people of the atmosphere within ‘The Landmark Café.’ There are many circulars, pamphlets, and newspapers in and throughout the Pocono Mountains. They always tend to display ‘well-to-do people’ who are not of color. The photos of books, espousing the advent of ‘Bushkill Falls’ depict figures of the 1900’s straw hat wearing – Gatsby looking individuals in suspenders and long pants hawking their hot dog and ice cream carts, taxis, buses, and bicycles. The only Indians seen are statues, figurines, and photo arrays.

Should one think that this is or could possibly be a slanderous report – think again… The establishment was providing a public service that was erroneous. The restaurant was represented by a selfish, greedy, and rude employee that could not properly serve the public. Her rude and unacceptable demeanor and behavior was biased and mean-spirited. There is no place for personal opinions or positions while serving the public at large.

Did we people of color (Blacks, Native Indians, Puerto Ricans, Asians, Hindus, etc.) exist in this world of mountainfolk life? Maybe some Stroudsburg folks hold a different opinion other than that of their white counterparts.

“If Europeans came from nations, so too did ‘People of Color!’ Dark People ignored the boundaries drawn by Europeans – especially in their move from one country to another in search of Liberty, Justice, and/or a Better Life!”

Til next time…

Acknowledgements:

‘Pocono Mountain Literature’
‘Black Indians, A Hidden Treasure,’ William Loren Katz
‘A Pocket Guide to Native Americans,’ Westhorp and Collins
‘Indian America, A Geography of North American Indians, Marian Wallace Ney – Libby Lambert
Wikipedia
Webster’s Dictionary

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http://comingsoonthehorrorofitall.blogspot.com/
“FAIRMOUNT”
By
Gregory V. Boulware
“The Horror Of It All…!”
http://comingsoonthehorrorofitall.blogspot.com/

Release Date: ‘Summer’ of 2013’

Anglers bitched and shook their fists as they rowed by, causing large ripples in the water where they dropped baited lines, anticipating the fish to bite.
Joggers were sucking it up as well and breathing the fresh crisp air. The weekend mornings were usually busier than workouts during the week.
Children were out collecting leaves and exploring the parkland. Parents, coaches, and other responsible adults were busy directing the young ones in organized game playing and such. Three boys, about the age of twelve ran by the busy groups of chess players, hikers, picnickers, bird feeders, and newspaper readers. Saturday morning was one of the best mornings for exploring and cliff climbing in the Fairmounts.

Sundays were good too.

“Hey you guys, come up here!” “You can see everything from up here!” The guys came running to the cliff in the hillside and climbed up to where Malcolm was standing. “What took you slow pokes so long?” “I should have left you.”

“Aw shut up, we could’ve beaten you up here if we knew where you were sneaking off to.” Jason was Malcolm’s best friend and classmate. They lived on the same small block in North Philly near 30th and Lehigh Avenue. Lindsey was Malcolm’s cousin. He lived on the block too. Leon was another member of this band of merry fellows. They were usually inseparable. Leon had to go with his uncle to get new shoes. He was not able to make the traditional Saturday morning trek. He complained to his uncle. He even attempted to trick his uncle into letting him go out with the guys.
“Uncle Rue, we can go to the shoe store this afternoon just before dinner time. That way, you can make your stop at the barber shop and the liquor store on the way back.”
His uncle looked at him with a curious eye and replied, “No. We been puttin off this thing for a couple of weeks now. Its time to get you some new shoes for school…No need in waiting til the last minute!”

A thunderous roar erupted just as Lindsey placed his hand on the last rock in the cliff, pulling himself up onto the plateau. Dirt and shrubbery flew all around as if a strong wind-gust blasted through signaling a squall in a rainstorm or twister. The boy could not believe his eyes. He nearly fell backward off the ledge of the cliff. But he knew subconsciously, that he had to hang on. It’s about a twelve hundred foot drop to the bottom.

Painful fear gripped his heart as he watched the massive tree-trunk sized object strike his cousin and lift him from the ground.

Captain Willice Samuel stood looking over the edge of the cliff, peering down onto the East river Drive. The screaming sirens of emergency vehicles filled the normally quiet environment of park life. Speeding past the stopped traffic below, the EMR vehicles made their way up the hill to the spot were the kids were playing. The Strawberry Mansion Bridge was at a stand-still as was the East River Drive traffic. Nothing and no one was being allowed to move through the area. Traffic backed up all over. Ridge Avenue was being over-crowed with the over flow of rush hour traffic. Both river drives, East and West, were backed up into the East Falls area of Midvale Avenue into Henry Avenue. The downtown out bound traffic was a mess. The local news on automobile radios reported the traffic mess as an accident in the park. They were not aware of the trouble that was amiss. Emergency vehicles were parked at the spot were the body of Lindsey Irvin lay at bottom of the twelve hundred ft drop from the cliff of the Strawberry Mansion roadway.

The first EMR personnel on the scene could not believe their eyes.

Gerald Glenn has been a Forrest Ranger for more than twenty years. Four of those years, his assignment had been the Northeastern Pennsylvania Region. Ranger Glenn knows everything about everything in the wild, from its greenery to the smallest of animals. Ranger Glenn pointed to something on the ground next to one of the Cherry Blossom trees, a print of something large was present. A few feet away in a southwesterly direction, off the roadway of Strawberry Mansion Drive, another large print was found. One of the CSI Investigators spoke to himself aloud, “What the fuck is this thing?”

The children’s parents and friends kept the cops at bay. The patronizing investigative detectives of the Central Philadelphia Juvenile Division, made every attempt to question the boys. They brought their cynical inquisition right at the parents. Implying child neglect, child endangerment, and reckless behavior on the adults responsible for the dead and injured kids. Leon is 13 years old, Jason 12, Malcolm 13, and Lindsey would have been 15 on his birthday, November 5th. The attack occurred October 26.

Uncle Rue kept Leon close by his side during the funeral ceremony, his mother on the other. The Xavier Family kept Malcolm from outside influences as well. Relatives and friends continually gawked at the boys while whispering in the ears of one another…commenting and nodding continually. The air in the parlor was stifling. It was permeated with floral scents, perfume, cologne, body odor, and sweat. The air-conditioner was sorely needed although the ambient temperature was 32 degrees on the outside of the building.

Sally squeezed Genailia almost to the point of breathlessness, and made damned sure his crotch aligned perfectly with her soft but firm posterior. The professor took no notice due to the swift lift and rush from the ground and into a concession stand, away from the gunfire.
Once inside the shelter, she found herself back on the ground. Salestian kicked open the door. The door was designed to open outward. The blow shattered the doorway molding, locks and latches. He then shoved the beautiful professor inside and down to the floor beneath the counter of the booth.
The service window remained open to customers but the staff had flown the coop when the gunfire erupted. She began to take notice of Sally’s intent when she felt his gyrating hips on her ass. The man also brandished an immense erection while licking the blood off the side of her face. The feeling of his stiffness is what aroused her suspicions.

Armed to the gills, SWAT team and police officers swarmed and swooped down on the zoo area. Their attempt at restoring order only made a bad situation worse. The platform around the giant helium balloon caught some high-powered slugs as well. The pings, whistles, and whizzes combined with flying shards of marble and stone penetrated the air. The sharp flying debris made it highly dangerous and volatile for people scrambling for cover.

The mayor and the city commissioners all arrived upon the scene where Captain Noodles was killed. His remains, a pool of gore, was scooped into a jar and packed into a white box on one of the ambulances assigned to transport crime scene material. Willis, Glenn, and Reese did not wait around for them to show up. They had already started out for the area of The Philadelphia Zoo .

The ivory white and razor sharp weaponry of the animal came to bear. Its target was easily at hand and ready to be served rare and meaty. The attendant was an individual of considerable stature. He stood 6’ 3,” weighed 2631/2 lbs. and was able to move like greased lightning. The massively built ebon frame once graced the grid iron of Franklin Field. His star position was a first line backer for Joe Pa’s famed ‘Nitany Lions.’
The star athletes’ speed and prowess allowed him to keep pace with the escaped young-uns; but could not save him from the jaws of death, as wielded by the ferociously dangerous and enraged animal. The beasts’ eye flashed red as its jaws opened wide. In preparation to snap shut on its savory victim, the pointed 7.5×3.1 inch molars swiftly clamped downward. The shrilled scream of the hapless morsel sounded like that of and ear-piercing siren. It filled the air and all of the eardrums in the vicinity.

Willis and Gerald stood staring at one another for what seemed like an hour. It was only for a few seconds before they were able to speak.
“Damn Man…he’s a big mutha, ain’t he?” That was all that Willis was able to squawk.
We’ve gotta bag his ass…he’s just beggin for it!” Gerald’s eyes flashed when he made that statement.
“What do you mean by that?” Asked Willis.
“I’ve got something that’ll just tickle his fancy since ordinary rounds and arrows won’t kill him. I’ve got to treat him like Luthor treats Superman.”

“Well son, take a lesson…sometimes you just got to have a little bit of an imagination, especially when you’re dealing with the unimaginable.”

In Philadelphia’s ‘FAIRMOUNT PARK:
Don’t get caught by surprise…look behind every tree , Azalea bush, and shrubbery – but above else, don’t go in the park alone and for God’s sake…stay out of the water!
Police Sources Say:
“The Fairmount Park Killer has mauled at least four people in the latest attack in the park. A boatload of rowers were out practicing for the regatta when they suddenly went missing.”
“Simper-Fi, Do or Die!”
“So you’re telling me is all we needed is a ‘C-4’ pack and a couple of whirly-bird yahoos to dispose of this beast, is that right Mr. Agent?” Glenn wasn’t even looking at the man. He was looking at the hole and burn scene while his gazing glances took his focused view to the ledge above.
The bomb exploded with a thunderous Earth trembling boom… The flash and whoosh of the after affect caused the gas cloud to evaporate. The heat from the blast cooked the pavement, the rocks, the foliage and trees, the air and everything in a circle of about fifty-five to sixty feet. The blast and burn was a perfect circumference – a perfect and complete circle. Albeit, the blast erupted and expired as planned by the security team, there was no target. It was utterly and completely gone. They couldn’t find anything, not one bone or hair sample.

A National Guard chopper swung in over head. It carried a large satchel. The bag contained explosives…C-4 Plastique. The bomb was much like the one used on the ‘MOVE Compound.’ Move harassed and demonized an entire community in West Philadelphia. Prior to Osage Avenue, the city had a running gun battle with MOVE when the organization occupied a house and mini-fort in ‘Powelten Village,’ also in West Philly, not very far from Osage Avenue. A cop was killed and many of the MOVE members went to jail. The authorities blew up and burned an entire neighborhood, killing several men, women, and children in the offensive assault on the building the group occupied on Osage Avenue. The tragic incident occurred under the administration of a very well liked mayor, a few decades ago.
The order went out to “Blow His Ass to Smithereens!”

They couldn’t believe this creature could not be stopped with bullets fired from the many different highly powered automatic weaponry. They watched as people ran into the boat-house row buildings only to be chased out. The beast chased a jogger into one of the houses. The building was virtually destroyed from the explosive ingress of the giant. He literally disintegrated the A- frame of the structure when he crashed through the wood and glass doors. The entire doorway and wall exploded inward from the behemoth’s charging entrance and exploded outward when it exited with a mouthful of bloody gore. The beast roared and screamed while being fired upon by the valiant defenders. Eye-in-the-sky-one and two were nearly depleted of their fire-power. They had the giant in their crosshairs when suddenly cut off by criss-crossing media helicopters. Four other news-helo’s swarmed in and out as well. The confusing flight patterns interfered with the attack on the rampaging and destructive killing machine down below.

It looked like something right out of a horror movie – a flick from one of ‘Dr. Shocks Double Chiller Theatre’ classics or something spooky from ‘Stella’s’ show.
It was unbelievable.

“Hey you guys, come up here!” “You can see everything from up here!” The boys came running to the cliff in the hillside and climbed up to where Malcolm was standing. “What took you slow pokes so long?” “I should have left you.”

“Aw shut up, we could’ve beaten you up here if we knew where you were sneaking off to.” Jason was Malcolm’s best friend and classmate. They lived on the same small block in North Philly near 30th and Lehigh Avenue. Lindsey was Malcolm’s cousin. He lived on the block too. Leon was another member of this band of merry fellows. They were usually inseparable. Leon had to go with his uncle to get new shoes. He was not able to make the traditional Saturday morning trek. He complained to his uncle. He even attempted to trick his uncle into letting him go out with the fellas. “Uncle Rue, we can go to the shoe store this afternoon just before dinner time.” “That way, you can make your stop at the barber shop and the liquor store on the way back.” His uncle looked at him with a curious eye and replied, “No.” “We’ve been puttin off this thing for a couple of weeks now, its time to get you some new shoes for school.” No need in waiting til the last minute!”

Gregory Thomas, Eddie Wright, Jean McIntosh, and the brains of the gang, Linda Ann Weston were finally arrested. They were charged with kidnapping and related offenses. The charges stem from the discovery of four mentally disabled adults in a dirty, urine-reeking sub-basement dungeon inside a ‘Tacony’ apartment building. The elaborate but simple scheme was established to steal the social security checks from the victims. With this twist and the DPW bennies from her drugged out kids, she and her cohorts were making a killing – living like kings.

“The Dungeon Queen of Tacony”
The report also unearthed the possible linking of the dungeon queen to the death of a woman who resided in Chester Gardens.
Weston’s son was an infant when his mom was arrested for imprisoning her sister’s boyfriend. She was reported to have locked him in a closet while starving him to death. The siblings were sent to live with a paternal grandmother. The young man stated an aunt abused him and his brothers, when they later went to live with her. The boy also said it was bad but worse when living with his mom.

YEARS IN THE MAKING…IT’S FINALLY COMPLETED! THE LATEST SHOCKER TO HIT THE AIRWAYS AND NEWS MEDIA OUTLETS…GRUESOME MURDERS, MAULINGS, AND ASSAULTS! THE FAIRMOUNT PARK RAPIST HAD TO WATCH HIS BACK…THE NEW KID ON THE BLOCK WAS TAKING OVER HIS JOB. THIS ONE WAS KILLING ENMASS…and he didn’t care who got in his way!

“NOW AVAILABLE!”
Fairmount – “The Horror of It All…!”
http://comingsoonthehorrorofitall.blogspot.com/

~“HALLOW II”~
Is in the Cloud and Riding on the Wind…
Look for it in October, Halloween 2013
Featuring:
“Bowery of the Crimson Frock and Flesh”
“The Howl Of An Angel”
“Bus Drivers Do It At Their Stops”
“Usurper’s Walk”
and more…
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‘FAIRMOUNT!’ – “The Horror Of It All…!”
http://comingsoonthehorrorofitall.blogspot.com/
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