A Resolution to Honor a Couple of Blaguards

A Resolution to Honor a Couple of Blaguards

April 16, 2001

Whereas, with a lack of program and office leadership they have done many, many good things with little money and less good judgment over a period of more than twenty years.

Whereas, they were unfortunate enough to make bad career decisions and enter the federal workforce at an early age and were not able to secure employment elsewhere in later years.

Whereas, they possess a disregard for the traditional conduct of federal government agencies in the area of park and resource planning and continually strive to achieve the coveted “anti-fed-fed” status.

Whereas, they have withstood attempts to implode their career including Reductions-In-Force, Inspector General investigations, bad furniture, temporary staffs, zero funding, bribes and threats by the Directorate, bad air, regular humbles, reorganization, disorganization, Mike Gordon, Sandy Rosencrans, and others.

Whereas, they were able to figure out that although management owns the office, furniture, budget, equipment, salary, and most everything else, the work does in fact belong to each of us and we alone decide how it gets done.

Whereas, that it is normally the appropriate federal policy to forget the past and the achievements of others, and only recognize the activities that are directly attributable to you or to those in positions of power, this comes as an after-thought-of-modest-intent.

Now, therefore, we the leadership of the Rivers, Trails & Conservation Assistance Program proclaim Monday April 16, 2001 as "Include Me Out Day" and hereby recognize Joseph DiBello and Joseph Eugster as "A Couple of Blaguards".  Specifically we agree to recognize them for whatever they have done; provide such recognition in an obtuse manner so as not to be clear, concise or tangible; neither deny or confirm this recognition with any written materials; supply disingenuous smiles and brief remarks; and provide them the opportunity to accept this recognition only if they are willing to pay their way to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

Chef Chas and the National Oyster Cook-off

Chef Chas and the National Oyster Cook-off

August 31, 2001 

Leonardtown, MD. The Fontana Free Press reports "Once again, due to the lackluster appearance of suede chefs in recent years for the National Oyster Cook- off, culinary giant and charismatic leader (next to Al Sharpton) Chef Chas de Petro (a.k.a.  Chef Sal Monella, Charlie Petrocci) will make an emergency appearance to boost consumer moral at this years bake off". After hiding on an island under Marlon Brando's robe, Chef Chas has been called out of semi-retirement, to the thrill of the masses.

Known as the "spin doctor" of oyster cuisine, his entry dish this year remains a mystery. It could be oysters covered with Lucky Stars, flambéed or it could be grilled oysters marinated in shark’s blood - known as surfer’s revenge. Or it

could be his old Italian favorite Oysters Salmonella.  Move over Clams detoxico, oysters a la Parris, the infamous Porto Charles Oysters could be on the menu!

Chef Chas missed the last two years of the Cook-off for unexplained reasons.  Many believe that Mr. de Petro was cooking in a Maryland State prison for his role in the 1999 accosting of the County Oyster Queen.  Petro and his sidekick, Santos, allegedly created a non-culinary stir when they came upon the Oyster Queen following the Chef's award winning performance.  Although it's unclear what exactly happened that day, the Queen did press charges and indictments followed.

Regardless, Chef Chas appearance this year will send pangs of joy

through the stomachs of the crowds and tingles of fear to this years Miss Oyster.

The National Oyster Cook-off is part of the St. Mary's Annual County Oyster Festival.  This year’s festival is scheduled for October 20-21, 2001.  The event is held at the County Fair Grounds in Leonardtown, MD and begins at 8:30 a.m. on

the 20th with the Oyster Cook- off.  For close to three hours each chef presents their oyster masterpiece to judges and then invites, in a non-accosting manner, the audience to sample the stew, appetizer, soup or main dish.

The Fair includes various Southern MD exhibits and foods including oysters on the half-shell, scalded oysters, fried oysters, clams, MD stuffed ham sandwiches, and much, much, more.  Included is music and dancing, an Oyster Shucking Contest, and other quite amazing local activities.

"My job isn't as easy as it looks" Award

        The 2001 Jimy Williams Society

 "My job isn't as easy as it looks" Award

                        

                             A Resolution 

                     to Honor Dick Powers & 

             the Administration Office of NPS-NCR

Whereas, over the course of an arduous federal season there are many games that need to be played before the final standings are decided.

Whereas, in the NCR arena there are many, many spectators, some with clear views and others with restricted lines of sight.

Whereas, the roster of the NCR Office of Administration is filled with talent, skill, experience, wisdom, humor and stamina that rivals any federal office in the land.

Whereas, it takes a unique type of field manager to direct, deflect, dissect, and disinfect the range of curve balls, line drives, bloop hits, and high hard-ones that are tossed in our direction.

Whereas, such leaders and staff have had to endure the roar of the crowd, the pointed criticism of the critics, extra inning games, sore arms, salary caps, no caps, and regular morning-after humbles.

Whereas, this group has been able to figure out that although the Agency owns the office, furniture, equipment, budget, and most everything else, the work does in fact belong to each of us and we alone decide how it gets done.

Whereas, it is easy to believe that with different leaders and workers that the outcome of the season will be appreciably different--even if there is no tangible evidence to think that way.

Whereas, that it is normally the appropriate federal policy to forget the past and achievements of others, and only recognize the activities that are directly attributable to yourself or to those in positions of power, this comes as a thought-of-modest-appreciation. 

Now, therefore, we the leadership of "The Jimy Williams Society proclaim October 4, 2001 as "My job isn't as easy as it looks Day" in order to recognize Dick Powers & the Administration Office of the National Park Service's, National Capital Region.  Specifically we agree to recognize whatever they do; make nice for at least one day; supply genuine smiles and platitudes; provide an expensive looking Jimy Williams Award, and work harder to appreciate everything they do and the way they do it for as long as we can remember to do so. 

By Order of Jimy Williams, Former Manager, Boston Red Sox

10-4-01

Elise Gold’s Tuscaloosa Time

Resolution Recognizing 

Elise Gold’s Tuscaloosa Time

Whereas, on August 20, 2008 with considerable natural talent, hard work, pomp, circumstance, family tears, tight genes, and the admiration of parents, relatives and small animals, Elise Gold, the daughter of Birminghamians, Eli and Claudette Gold, will begin her college education at the University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa, Alabama.

Whereas, this academic pursuit represents yet another amazing and impressive step in the life of Elise (aka, “Princess Charmin Potty-Head, II, Little Bits, Kiddo, Cokie Gold, Cousin Elise”) Gold.

Whereas, Elise—a happy child, came into our lives on February 4, 1990 as a lovely baby, with barely a peep, amidst tornado watch sirens, rumbling thunder, jumping animals, and friends wagering in the waiting room about the sex of the child-to-be. Moreover, fairly soon after her arrival she developed a knack for crying, from just after dinner until bedtime.  She also managed a toot-salute the day she was baptized.

Whereas, her parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, nieces, friends, young children, and customers in the check-out line have used every waking moment of  her lifetime to give her insight about the ways of the world including what she should and shouldn’t do now that she is relatively free of the tyranny of their influence. Moreover, her family has spent a lifetime preparing her for leaving home by:

telling her what she should and shouldn’t do; 

teaching her how to read and write, while urging her to go right when she was a natural southpaw; 

taking her on annual birthday celebrations and Daytona beach walks, while helping her build sand castles and eat “handy” ice cream birthday cakes, acquire boardwalk splinters and pierced-ears, use playground swings and see-saws, and play hotel Bingo;

enabling her to eat her weight in steaks, shrimp and sundaes; 

taking her for a lap around the Daytona Racetrack;

helping her know the difference between Richard and Tom Petty, and Bobby Allison and Bob Allison; and

teaching her to sing chorus, after chorus of “The Weather is Fine for Flying” on the flight to Daytona Beach. 

Whereas, Elise, has spent a lifetime preparing for this southbound journey to the Crimson world of Tuscaloosa from the family nests by honing the skills she will need in college including:

cheering for “Bama” at a very young age;

flying off of playground swings, on her belly, face-first creating beard-likes scrapes on her face;

colliding with young boys at break-neck speed to incur and deliver bruises and black-eyes;

dancing to American Idol while ridiculing other contestants; 

swimming with and without water wings; 

playing Ocean Isle wiffle ball like a girl;

falling down and tripping up stairs in Alexandria;

eating vast amounts of candy and chips in Greenvale,

singing unscheduled songs from the “Wizard of Oz” at church during mass; 

applying cucumber eye-treatment to family members at Ocean Isle; and

working hard at writing, reading, decoupage, day-time sleeping, late night phone calls, Math, Best Buy, Carvel ice cream cake, and making Valentine’s Day cards. 

Now, therefore be it resolved that the Gold, Stazweski, Doyle, Fiore, Cheshire, Shaw, Bakowski, Holmes-Butler, Parga, Eugster-Weatherly families, and their associated collection of cats and dogs, using their influence on Jacobs Road, Capitol Hill, East Howell Ave., Hillside Ave., East Barber Ave., talk radio, television, Elm Street, and other high and low places, recognize the extra ordinary accomplishments and potential of Elise Gold and designate August 20, 2008 as:

 “Elise Gold’s 2008 Crimson Tide Day”. 

Specifically we agree to recognize all that she does; make nice-nice for at least one day; supply genuine smiles, platitudes, and bowls of trans-fat-free chips and dip, and slabs of lean red meat; and work harder to appreciate her status as an independent, free-thinking woman, for as long as we can remember to do so. 

At a time when life often steals some of the people we love the most, Elise Gold and her accomplishments, continue to be a gift and good news to those who love her from near and far.  May you finish what you start on this day and know that we are very proud of you!

Be it further resolved that a copy of this resolution be provided to Ms. Gold.  

Approved:  Palm Bay Hotel Beach Club Association, August 7, 2008.

The Mayor of the Pocomoke

The Mayor of the Pocomoke

By J. Glenn Eugster 
May 11, 1998

This spring I heard from old friends that I had drifted apart from.  Although their news reached me separately what they told me brought me back once again to the Pocoomoke River watershed.  The news drew me away from  family and career issues that I tend to focus on and caused me to think about the places and the people I had met working on river conservation and revitalization.

The first news I heard was about Curt Lippoldt, Mayor of Pocomoke City, MD, friend and river conservation colleague of the last ten years.  Mayor Lippoldt, it was said, wasn’t going to run for re-election.  He evidently wanted to do some things he had been putting off for some time.  As a friend I knew that the Mayor had been trough a terribly difficult year having to try to deal with the impact of Pfesteria on his city and I could understand why he wouldn’t want to continue being a local official.

As a river conservation advocate I felt like someone punched me in the stomach.  As I pondered the news I realized that this unique man and local elected offical would no longer be the mayor who worked so hard and cared so much about Pocomoke City, the Pocomoke River and the Lower eastern Shore.  For ten years I had worked with Curt and never truly appreciated how valuable he was as a "River Mayor", until I heard of his plans.

I took a day-off and traveled with a colleague to meet with Curt, his Citry manager Russell Blake and Dr. Ritchie Shoemaker to talk about the Pocomoke and Pfesteria.  My trip was about business but it was an opportunity for me to make time for colleagues who became good friends while working on the Pocomoke.  Curt’s message was a wake-up call reminding me that talented local leaders are unique and if you have them in your group you should enjoy their skills, experience and friendship while you can.

My friendship with Curt started with the Pocomoke River.  In 1976 I moved from GA to PA and began working for the Bureau of Outdoor Recreation on the Nationwide Rivers Inventory.  I quickly learned about the Mid-Atlantic States and looked for places to canoe.  I had spent six years in the South and was introduced and quite attached to the special qualities of the Flint and Chattahoochee Rivers.

I was surprised and delighted to learn of the outstanding free-flowing rivers of the region and developed a strong interest in the river swamps.  My map and book research led me to wonderful wetland dominated river corridors such as the Great Egg Harbor River in NJ, the Leipsic River in DE and the Pocomoke River on the Delmarva Peninsula.  Office research was followed by canoe trips and low altitude photography from a helicopter .  Work on the NRI gave me a chance to learn more about each of these streams, and their values and functions.

It wasn’t until 1989 however, that I learned of Mayor Curt Lippholdt.  Standing on Pocomoke City‘s Main Street one afternoon while my wife Deborah visited  a drugstore, I purchased a local newspaper.  We were visiting the Eastern Shore on our honeymoon and our rambles led to the Beach to Bay Indian Trail.  We stopped in Pocomoke City to take a look at the City’s wonderful riverfront park, historic Main Street, Delmarva Theater, and outstanding bridge.  

Although my honeymoon wasn’t the time when I should have been looking for new river conservation partners an article in the paper caught my attention.  The story featured the Mayor talking about the unique qualities of the City’s riverfront and how he thought the Pocomoke could help the City economically.  I quickly clipped the article as my wife finished her shopping, and made a note to look into the Mayor’s efforts.

After returning home I dropped the Mayor a note mentioning the article and included information about my work conserving rivers with the National Park Service.  I applauded him and Pocomoke City for their vision and interest in the Pocomoke and offered our office’s assistance if he was interested.  Shortly after my letter the mayor called and he and I were soon driving around the City and the watershed.  I learned that Curt was from Colorado, had worked for a corporation in New York City, and was excited about Pocomoke City and his job as mayor.  He showed me the city and the river,  and  described  what the community was doing and what they hoped to achieve in the future.   His admiration for the community, the river was genuine and it wasn’t long before I  embraced the vision that he and others had for the city and the Pocomoke.  My offer to help the Mayor, and the experience that followed, reaffirmed a quote by St. Francis of Assissi, “In giving we receive”.

A Duck and the Swans of the Peconic

"A Duck and the Swans of the Peconic"
By J. Glenn Eugster
Fontana Free Press

September 25, 2011

Riverhead, NY 1988.  After the canoe rental company dropped me off on a dirt road not far from the old Grumann Aircraft facility I paddled along the upper Peconic River in Suffolk County.  I was alone  and it was a weekday afternoon in the Spring.  The sun made my paddle comfortable and I was looking forward to a break from what I was doing in Riverhead that week.  As I paddled the narrow, meandering stream I noticed that the Peconic started to widen and the current slowed.  It appeared that the river may have been damed but the large openness of the river presented new opportunities for exploring this part of the Long Island Pine Barrens.

I began paddling along the edge of the river to get a closer look at the forests and wetlands.  Small feeder streams entered the river creating tiny enbayments which were frequented by various plants, birds and animals.  As I worked my way slowly downstream I noticed swans near the center of the river.  Much to my surprise they were paddling quickly toward me with heir heads tucked down into their bodies.  Their menacing stares made me realize that I probably was close to their nests.

I paddled faster but they had an angle on my route that ensured that our paths would eventual cross if I were to continue my paddle.  Not knowing what to do next I began to shout loudly at the swans hoping to scare they away.  My shouts did nothing to differ the regatta of birds headed my way.  I checked the depth of the water anticipating that the collision that seemed inevitable would no doubt deposit me in the river.  I couldn't find the bottom of the stream and the idea of falling into deep, cold water on this relaxing afternoon didn't appeal to me at all.

In an instant the sedans were upon me and I reacted with a loud shout while whacking the water with my paddle.  They were impressive birds, both beautiful and menacing,  and I wanted to avoid actually whacking them unless it was absolutely necessary.  They paddled parallel to me as I tried to continue to move away from the shore and downstream.  My plan was to keep whacking, shouting and paddling and hope that they would let me go.  

After a few minutes they veered off and I continued my paddle not knowing what was ahead.  With a greater focus on getting to the location where the company would pick me up, I paddled with a greater sense of purpose figuring that I could relax when I was off this little river.  As I continued on I saw what appeared to be a large earthen mound across the river.  At first I thought it was an impassible dam that would require me to make a portage.  As I moved closer I realized that the mound was actually fill for the highway that crossed the river.  Rather than build a bridge the highway department filled the stream bed leaving a small rectangular opening and tunnel at the base of the mound.

I pulled-up along the mound and looked closely for the route that would get me to the other side.  The banks were very steep so the idea of carrying my canoe up and over the road wasn't practical.  The tunnel was very small and narrow but it looked like it was big enough for a canoe to get through.  I paddled to the opening which seemed to be designed to allow a small portion of the river through.  The tunnel was very dark, seemed very long, and was smaller than I imagined.  However, if I was willing to continue my paddle I'd have to sit on the bottom of the canoe and pull myself through the dark shaft with my hands.  My hyper-tension climbed as I pondered the decision.

My fear was overtaken by a sense of either adventure or stupidity.  Either way I decided to go into the tunnel knowing that if I were to get stuck in the shaft,  or the tunnel collapsed, or, worse yet, blood thirsty bats were inside, this trip might not have been a good idea.  Placing my paddle on the floor of the canoe I sat on the bottom of my boat and leaned back to until my head was level with the peaks of the front and the back of the canoe.  Quickly I was within the darkness as the boat moved slowly along with the current.  My imagination ran wild as I moved underground not knowing whether this would work or not.  What would I do if there were metal bars at the other end of the tunnel?  What about snakes and spiders falling into the canoe?  Could this be where the NY Pine Barrens Devil lives?  What if the canoe got stuck and I had to roll it over to get out?  What if the water level behind me rose and I was pinned to the ceiling of the shaft?  Why, oh why, did I do this?

As I said the Act of Contrition and numerous Our Fathers' and Hail Marys' I began to see light at the end of the tunnel.  A sense of optimism began replacing my sense of dread and I soon realized I was breathing again.   Little by little my canoe moved me to the light.  I wondered whether there was yet another surprise for me at the end of the shaft.  Would the swans reappear?  Would a raft of rebellious LI ducks take issue with my desire to pass through their part of the river?  Was it possible that this area was part of a Air National Guard practice target area?  As I came out of the tunnel my imagination switched off and I soon realized that I had made it to the other side.

The remainder of the paddle was relief and a humble celebration.  As I paddled to my destination I was glad to be close to the take-out point, relieved that I was still dry, and exhilarated by the experiences I encountered.  When I returned to the Riverhead Motel, where my father and I were staying as he underwent two weeks of treatment 

terminal lung-cancer, I shared my adventure with Dad not quite knowing how to verbally describe my paddle along the Peconic.  At the end of my story my father asked if I got a chance to relax.  I replied, Oh yeah!.