I'm headed across this great land tomorrow. I'm flying to Pennsylvania. I wonder if I'll run into Andy Reid or Donovan McNabb. Or Chocolate Thunder. Maybe he'll do one of his Wham-Bam-I-Am-Jam slam dunks for me. Hmm.
So far, the Keystone State has eluded me. I've driven across Ohio, New York, New Jersey, Delaware and Maryland, but so far I've yet to enter the Commonwealth of William Penn. No particular reason. Nothing against Pennsylvania or Quakers. Growing up in Portland and S.F., Pennsylvia and Quakers haven't presented themselves to me. Neither is on the way to anything. So . . . tomorrow's my chance.
I really need to brush up on my Pennsylvania Dutch greetings and rent that new Dick Vermeil movie. And I should watch Witness too, that suspenseful drama with Harrison Ford and that actress I can't remember. Another reason to see it: in case I run into some Amish people at a weed and feed store or something. I'd tell them I live walking distance to the Linnton Feed & Seed back home. I'd ease any racial tension they might feel while they're stocking up on straw and candles. I'd make them feel right at home in their own home. It'll be awesome.
I'll extend a welcoming hand for sure. Maybe I'd say something like, "Don't worry: I've witnessed Witness." Hah! Then: "I come to you as a friend. I come from the Northwest borough in the municipality of Portland of the great Oregon Territory." I'd extend an open hand. After that I could explain a little about the rustic nature of my own neighborhood. Aside from the AM/PM station down the hill and the loud barges pulling up to the oil-tank farms, Linnton is basically the Amish country of Portland neighborhoods, unless the natural gas smell is especially bad that day. Nonetheless, me and the Amish will laugh and joke and share stories about our peoples and what makes a good horse whip these days.
I'll let you know what I see in York.
