Sixth grade seem to be the best time of my life; I was popular and we had the greatest teacher in the world. I wonder about Mr. Ader from time to time. He was like ‘To Sir With Love’ for preteens. We had mock trials to demonstrate the legal system and the defendant was charged and convicted of bullying. Oh and I was the plaintiff. Then there was the 1PM milk call and how delicious that was. I really loved it when he decided we needed a break and we ended up in the gym, playing Dodge Ball and listening to music. I was very quick on my feet and did very well. And those milks cost two cents, chocolate milk was four.
Even our bus trips to and from school were so awesome as we sang songs and I discovered love. Cheryl Johnson was her name and just the sight of her sent paroxysms of love through my body. Our actual first time together was at the Fall Festival at North Hanover Elementary School, not far from Ft. Dix/McGuire, where my father was training to be an Air Force Recruiter.
For the Fall Festival, I was slated to be a pumpkin. My parents and myself formed a pumpkin big enough for me to hide in and supported by hangers as the frame and it was quite sturdy. When even had a hat/stem made of green machete and at the given moment I would pop up and dance in circles. Charlie Brown, I was the Great Pumpkin!!!! After our plays we changed, it really was like a mini-prom. Me in my little suit and the parents of the girls were smitten by me and many said I looked like ‘Opie Taylor’. But it was all good, getting pictures taken with all the pretty girls while holding their hands.
Our next stop was upstate NY, in the southern tier on the PA/NY Border. When we pulled in our trailer (yes we lived in a trailer) we were pulling onto land that was in our family for about two centuries. The area was Barton/Ellistown and we lived on Ellistown Road.
We were clearing out brush, demolishing an old house that was full of bees. We had quite a few acres of land and the land seem to go on forever.. The greenhouse was old and on the side of the office were the words ‘Brink’s Greenhouse’ and it was full of antiques, an old cash register and all sorts greenhouse paraphernalia . Just to the north of Ellistown Rd was old Route 17 and it was part of a historic event (outside our family) and that was the migration to Woodstock. I was 13 at the time and one hippie had asked me for my bike and was offering like 50 dollars. My brother said I should have taken that offer. I am sure he would have.
Our little town.
Lots of great memories but perhaps one of the greatest was my Grandma Tribe. She was a Norman Rockwell creation and although she was eccentric, her house was full of food, candy, potato chips and pop. (soda). To get to that place was a very long trip and boring!!! And our hope would always be that our cousins would be there. My grandfather led an interesting life. Work in factories but played in the Industrial Leagues. He used to outrun the police cars on horseback when young. He tolerated his wife’s eccentric wife but really did love him. They both loved their kids and grandma waited for the one nephew to come home and after he did, she passed peacefully.
Earl Tribe, 94, formerly of Mansfield, PA, December 9, 2002 at Broad Acres Nursing Home, Wellsboro, PA. He was born May 22, 1908 in Halsey Valley, NY, the son of Clifford & Mabel Brooks Tribe. A retired mechanic, Earl had been employed with Keystone, Canyon Construction, & Webb Rice. He was a member of the Whitneyville United Methodist Church & the Mansfield Grange. Earl is survived by 3 daughters, Beverly Olson of Mebane, NC, Freda Kwiatkowski of Lakeland, FL, Ronnie Mason of Wellsboro, PA, 14 grandchildren, 36 great grandchildren, 9 great great grandchildren, a sister, Ruby Williams of Bradenton, FL, a brother-in-law, Willis Eddy of Little River, SC, a son-in-law, Lester Crumb of Elmira, NY, 7 nephews, & a niece. Earl was predeceased by his first wife, Freda Cleveland Tribe, his second wife, H. Louise Brink Tribe, a daughter, Donna Tribe, a grand daughter, Kimberly Crumb, & a son-in-law, Robert Mason. Friends are invited to call at the Gary Wilston Funeral Home 18 N. Main St. Mansfield, PA, Wednesday 7-9 PM. Funeral services will be held there Thursday at 11:00 AM, with his grandson, Rev. Dennis Crumb, officiating. Burial in Roseville Cemetery. Sympath”e” cards may be sent to Earl’s family at http://www.wilstonfuneralhome.com “OBITUARIES”
The old house we traveled to in Mansfield was along old Route 6, down a dusty partially paved route. You could sit on the front porch and listen to the cars and trucks go on the New Route 6.
That last part of the trip down the Old 6 was kind of spooky and kind of fun. A couple miles down the road on the right was where they lived and my mom grew up. As the obit showed there were a lot of grandkids. The house was busy like I said but we kids would go outside and play basketball. We nailed an old rectangular box to the side of the barn garage and shoot beach balls through the makeshift hope (box). At our Uncle’s House we would leave the farm and go to town to play Little League and Babe Ruth baseball. I so loved that. Grandma’s house was full of antics, especially the parlor. After her death the family split all of that, some quite expensive. I remember sock puppets and Charles Chips. And who can not forget the old Grandfather clock that was in the living room next to the fire place and close to the front door. At night we would listen to the clock chime and while sleeping upstairs we would imagine the place to be haunted.
On the way home down old 6 and near downtown was the Farmer in the Dell. It is no longer there but serves as a reminder of a time when Dairy/Ice Cream Parlors were popular. An olden day Baskin n Robbins complete with Whole Milk. When it snowed we used to ride the saucer down the driveway or our sleds but had to be careful because at the end of driveway and across the road was a deep ravine. One day while in the car waiting of our parents I was in the front seat. I released the hand brake and the car started rolling backwards and ended up across the road, hung up in the fence. Lucky for me. Grandpa Tribe was the GateKeeper as kids streamed in and out of the door and the familiar comment, ” either stay in or go out”!!! Bet everyone has heard that before.
My grandmother just loved to go to Lancaster, PA and take grand children and great grand children along. We would also go to the Hershey Plant and while in Lancaster would laugh at the sign of a town that was called ‘Intercourse’. I bet Beavis and Butthead would have loved that.
And there will always outings with the family and I think my dad resented going to Mansfield and he and my mom would have words, we were scared of a bad fight but mom kept it in check pretty well. I also know that her dad did not like him, though my dad like Grandpa Tribe, He just disliked Grandma. But she did for us out of love and we will always to have fun.