Mountain Views News          Saturday, August 17, 2013

OPINION

16

 Mountain Views News Saturday, August 17, 2013 


OUT TO PASTOR 

A Weekly Religion Column by Rev. James Snyder

STUART Tolchin..........On LIFE

Mountain 
Views

News

PUBLISHER/ EDITOR

Susan Henderson

CITY EDITOR

Dean Lee 

EAST VALLEY EDITOR

Joan Schmidt

BUSINESS EDITOR

LaQuetta Shamblee

SENIOR COMMUNITY 
EDITOR

Pat Birdsall

SALES

Patricia Colonello

626-355-2737 

626-818-2698

WEBMASTER

John Aveny 

CONTRIBUTORS

Chris Leclerc

Bob Eklund

Howard Hays

Paul Carpenter

Stuart Tolchin

Kim Clymer-Kelley

Christopher Nyerges

Peter Dills 

Hail Hamilton 

Rich Johnson

Chris Bertrand

Ron Carter

Rev. James Snyder

Bobby Eldridge

Mary Carney

Katie Hopkins

Deanne Davis

Despina Arouzman

Greg Wellborn

Dr. John Talevich

Ben Show

Sean Kayden

Jasmine Kelsey Williams


WHY I LOVE NEWSPAPERS

AMISH AIN’T ALWAYS AMISH

 Even though the L.A. Times front page earlier this 
week displayed a huge picture of a shooting star over the Anza 
Borrego Desert while I suffered the pain of a stiff neck resulting 
from a fruitless multi-hour search for these same shooting stars 
racing across the Sierra Madre Northeastern sky I still love 
newspapers. Oh, by the way, I did see a few of the exciting 
meteor trails as they flew across the sky and quickly disappeared 
and really treasured the experience of sitting out on the deck at 
three a.m. together with my wife, son, and his girl friend as we craned our necks 
searching for what we could not see.

 My son’s girl friend unexpectedly exclaimed “This is just like one of those 
glaucoma tests” and all at once I had the feeling of sharing something precious 
and yet unexplainable with my family. My feeling about newspapers is much the 
same. It is a feeling of sharing something with unknown hundreds of thousands of 
people as we flip through the pages in the early morning as we get out of bed and 
take a few minutes before we face the tasks of our usually difficult days. As I look 
at the morning paper I think of my Dad working at the CCC camp almost 80 years 
ago and writing his praise for President Roosevelt and thanking the President for 
helping him to regain his self-esteem as he built bridges in the Midwest.

 I included a part of my father’s article written in a tiny Wisconsin newspaper 
on the occasion of reaching his birthday in 2010. By some strange coincidence my 
almost 80 year old barber right here in Sierra Madre grew up right near Ladysmith 
Wisconsin the very city where my father’s article appeared. By another coincidence 
my friend John played minor-league baseball right there in some sort of tri-cities 
league 40 years later. Perhaps these connections mean little to anyone in the world 
besides me but I think that’s the point. Newspapers allow all of us to experience 
our own individuality as we connect to whatever is presented as news in the daily 
paper. We are part of that world.

 I love newspapers partly because the existence of our little paper in our 
little corner of the world has allowed me to write these 299 consecutive articles 
about whatever I feel like writing about and presenting those feelings to the world. 
Every week I imagine my unknown and perhaps non-existent readership thinking 
about these articles and reacting to them. Occasionally I run into strangers who 
recognize me and talk about articles I have written and how these articles affected 
them. There was a period when I received regular reviews from strangers who 
criticized me or sometimes praised me in ways I never expected. There still hangs 
on the wall of Andy’s Coffee Shop my article, together with my son’s picture on a 
Monrovia Bench sitting next to the statue of Mark Twain as they both appear to be 
reading books.

 The fact motivating this article is the recent purchase of the Washington 
Post by the founder of Amazon, Jeff Bezos. Does this mean that the daily printed 
Washington Post will soon disappear? Really I am not very talented at making 
predictions. Twenty five years ago I told my son not to bother learning to use 
a computer or a skateboard because such things were just passing fads. Such a 
terrible prediction carries on a tradition in the Tolchin family similar to my father’s 
urging me to not waste time going to college when I could be learning a trade like 
being a linotypist which would always assure me of having a job to perform. I 
wonder why he did not mention chimney sweep?

 This weekend my gang had breakfast at my daughter’s new home and 
there on the wall I noticed a picture of Orson Welles standing above a pile of 
newspapers. It is a picture taken from the movie Citizen Kane given courtesy 
of my daughter’s new boyfriend, a Film School graduate. Citizen Kane, picked 
by many as the greatest picture of all time in which newspapers are portrayed 
as an institution that somehow describes the rise and fall of the whole country. 
Somewhere I learned that enthusiasm the Spanish American War was brought 
about as a way to sell more newspapers. I’m old enough to remember that that the 
efforts of two young reporters, Dustin Hoffman and Robert Redford (just kidding) 
working at the Washington Post and persevering through initial indifference and 
obscurity eventually securing evidence which brought down the whole corrupt 
Nixon Administration. After that, only four years later, the Savior Ronald Reagan 
and his Vice-President and soon to be President George H.W. Busch were elected. 
Whatever happened to that family?

 My point is that newspapers cannot guarantee our nation’s security or well-
being. Rather, for me at least, all that is promised is a chance to stay connected to 
what is presented at my own pace and time and in the privacy of my own mind. 
The internet is not a place to reflect. 

 Recently, it was 
my privilege to go 
to a convention 
in Ohio in the 
middle of a large 
Amish/ Mennonite community. I looked 
forward to this very much because I grew 
up in Lancaster County Pennsylvania, 
which has many Amish/ Mennonite 
communities.

 I was expecting quite a bit as I packed 
my bags to leave.

 “Are you sure you got everything?” A 
phrase reiterated to me by the Gracious 
Mistress of the Parsonage.

 To which I responded by saying, “Yes, 
for the umpteenth time I got everything.”

 This in and of itself was to guarantee 
me I would forget something, usually 
essential in my travel. Then when I get 
home, I will be reminded that I was 
reminded to make sure I got everything.

 Nothing, at this point, could deter 
my high-level expectation of going into 
an Amish/ Mennonite community. My 
great eagerness was looking forward to 
indulging in one of my favorite desserts: 
the shoofly pie. Nobody makes shoofly 
pie quite like those wonderful Amish 
people.

 To make matters even more enticing, 
I would not have anybody sitting next to 
me reminding me I had enough shoofly 
pie. I fully intended to gorge myself on 
as much shoofly pie as my wallet could 
handle. In my book, there is no such 
thing as too much shoofly pie.

 I drove 15 hours to get to this little town 
in Ohio. Every mile creating anticipation 
for my dessert delicacy awaiting me in 
some Amish restaurant.

 I confess it has been a long time 
since I visited an Amish/ Mennonite 
community. Even though I grew up in 
such a community, some things a person 
tends to forget.

 The convention I was attending ended 
Sunday morning at lunch. I, being the 
grandiose Know-It-All, decided to 
skip the Sunday lunch and look for a 
restaurant to indulge in my delectable 
delicacy. The convention was wonderful 
and as I left the grounds, I did so with a 
lot of joy in each step.

 The thing I forgot was it was Sunday in 
an Amish/ Mennonite community. If you 
have never been in such a community, let 
me inform you that on Sunday the only 
thing open are churches. I had forgotten 
this little tidbit.

 During the week, I made a list of 
several Amish restaurants. I had plans 
of visiting each of them before I left and 
having shoofly pie, a whole pie, in each 
restaurant.

 When I got to the first restaurant, 
it finally hit me. This was Sunday and 
everything in an Amish/ Mennonite 
community was closed. I do not usually 
go to a restaurant on Sunday unless 
it is some special occasion. I was a 
little chagrined to realize everything 
was closed. This only heightened my 
anticipation of the shoofly pie delicacy 
awaiting me come tomorrow.

 At times it feels like tomorrow will 
never come, but eventually tomorrow 
came and I awoke with a song on my 
lips, a pang of hunger in my stomach and 
a desire to indulge in a shoofly delicacy.

 I finally arrived at my first Amish 
restaurant and I was drooling so much 
I could hardly tell the hostess I was just 
a party of one. Boy, what a party it was 
going to be.

 Being a gentleman, I contained 
myself as best I could and ordered a 
very scrumptious repast. Nobody can 
cook like those Amish women. Oh, what 
a lunch I had. I think what made it so 
wonderful was the dessert expectation 
hovering over me like an angelic halo.

 Just as I was finishing my lunch the 
lovely young waitress, all dressed in 
Amish attire, came by inquiring if I 
would like to see the dessert menu.

 “No,” I said with a delectable 
determination, “I know exactly what I 
want for dessert.”

 We exchanged smiles. I have no idea 
what she was smiling about; maybe 
the anticipatory tip. I knew what I was 
smiling about; the anticipatory dessert.

 I tried to contain myself and carefully 
pace out my instructions.

 “Young lady,” I said as calmly as 
possible, “I will have a piece of shoofly 
pie. In fact, why don’t you bring me the 
whole pie.” And with that, I smiled.

 The waitress looked at me rather 
strangely and said, “What kind of pie do 
you want?”

 Being the kind of person that enjoys 
a good old-fashioned joke, I responded, 
“Ha ha ha. A shoofly pie, if you please.”

 “What’s a shoofly pie?”

 I can take a joke as well as anybody but 
there comes a time when all jokes need 
to be put aside and bring on the shoofly 
pie.

 “This is an Amish restaurant, isn’t it?”

 “Yes it is,” she smiled patiently.

 “You’ve heard of a shoofly pie, haven’t 
you?”

 “No, I’ve never heard of such a pie.”

 I cannot tell you the depth of 
disappointment this brought to me. For 
weeks, I have been looking forward to 
some good old-fashioned shoofly pie.

 As it turned out, only the Amish/ 
Mennonite in Lancaster County 
Pennsylvania, know anything about 
shoofly pies. Not all Amish are the same, 
even though they look alike.

 The apostle Paul understood this kind 
of disappointment.

 “If in this life only we have hope in 
Christ, we are of all men most miserable” 
(1 Corinthians 15:19 KJV).

 I have had many disappointments in 
life and many people have disappointed 
me, but I have found in Jesus Christ 
no disappointment whatsoever. All 
legitimate hope is in Jesus.

 

Rev. James L. Snyder is pastor of the Family 
of God Fellowship, PO Box 831313, Ocala, FL 
34483. He lives with his wife, Martha, in Silver 
Springs Shores. Call him at 1-866-552-2543 or 
e-mail jamessnyder2@att.net. His web site is 
www.jamessnyderministries.com.

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JOE Gandleman...Independent’s Eye


SEX, LIES AND THE FILNER HEADLOCK

SAN DIEGO -- This 
tourist Mecca has 
long been loved for 
the gleaming beaches 
along its 70-mile 
coastline where 
the sea caresses the 
sand. Now it's becoming 
known as 
the city where its Mayor allegedly gave 
unwanted caresses, butt pats and playful 
chokeholds to more than a dozen 
women.

Every day the San Diego Union-Tribune 
newspaper boasts: "The World's 
Greatest Country and America's Finest 
City." These days San Diego is becoming 
known as America's city with a mayor 
who refuses to resign even though he's 
caught up in one of the country's worst 
sex scandals.

San Diego Mayor Bob Filner's latest refusal 
to resign was coated with political 
gobbledygook: "Now is not the time to 
go backwards — back to the time middle-
class jobs and neighborhood infrastructure 
were sacrificed to downtown 
special interests," he said in a written 
statement required by law to the committee 
trying to recall him. "We need to 
continue to move forward."

Make no mistake about it: the 70-year-
old Filner, once upon a time a progressive 
Democratic member of the House 
known to deliver and fight hard for his 
supporters and causes, is now arguably 
the worst of America's high-profile 
Three Stooges of sex scandals.

Former Rep. Anthony "Stop Me Before 
I Sext Again" Weiner is continuing 
his magical mystery humiliation 
tour as he campaigns to become New 
York City mayor, definitively done in 
by revelations that he was "sexting" after 
he claimed he had stopped. Plus, he's 
highly obnoxious and wears as well as a 
nonstop migraine.

Watching videos of Weiner mocking 
a British reporter, blasting the media, 
answering outraged constituents who 
take him to task, or calling a 69-year-
old rival in the mayor's race "grandpa" 
at an AARP event reveals less of a run 
for mayor than a public meltdown. 
Weiner's sexting and his embarrassing, 
nearly masochistic, run reflect a huge 
out-of-control ego.

Former New York Governor Elliot 
Spitzer, who quit his office after it was 
revealed he was offering his own extensive 
stimulus package to New York's 
prostitute industry, seems to be on the 
rebound after flopping as a CNN talk 
show co-host. Polls show he could well 
win in his race to become New York 
City comptroller and rejoin the ranks of 
elected politicians -- those who often do 
in office to voters what prostitutes do to 
their clients.

But Filner is increasingly in a sleazy category 
by himself. The accusations fall 
under the blanket category of "sexual 
harassment" but they aren't just about 
words or an isolated action. Attorney 
Gloria Allred, who is representing Filner's 
highly respected former communications 
director Irene McCormick 
Jackson in a lawsuit, is having prominent 
women come forward virtually 
every week. 

Filner reportedly approached women 
at a meeting for women raped in the 
military. One nurse felt he was demanding 
she go out on a date with her if she 
wanted his help in treating a wounded 
veteran patient. Filner has been accused 
of groping and trying to kiss women 
and getting several in a supposedly 
playful dominating "Filner headlock." 
New revelations are coupled with reports 
that Filner wasn't much better 
while in Congress.

Perhaps the best advice to San Diego 
women might be: if Bob Filner asks you 
what you want for Christmas, don't say 
"Christmas goose."

Filner insists his actions weren't sexual 
harassment and refuses to quit. He can't 
be fired by the City Council and the 
recall effort's success isn't certain. He 
proclaimed he was going away for two 
weeks of harassment therapy, then came 
back at the end of a week announcing 
he'd completed it early. Meanwhile, 
comedians are having a field day, and 
a You Tube video parody of Robin 
Thicke's "Blurred Lines" centers on calls 
for him to resign. And it's getting worse 
for him.

All Hooters restaurants in San Diego 
have put up a poster -- text and design 
suggested by Glenn Beck -- saying they 
won't serve Filner.

And Talking Points Memo reports " investigators 
are looking into claims by 
Filner's security detail that Filner frequently 
took women to the Westgate 
hotel in downtown San Diego... In any 
case, it may all be too much for Filner's 
one week of harassment therapy to 
overcome."

Or would it? Many politicians are 
shameless. But Bob Filner almost makes 
Anthony Weiner look contrite and in 
control.

RICH Johnson

Hi! My Name Is 
Rich Johnson.

 
I am filling in this week for Rich Johnson. He has been 
out of touch (who doesn’t know that already) but has 
managed to convince me to step into his shoes this week 
and pass along some valuable information. 

 Part of that valuable information is to pass along local 
restaurant suggestions. Two I would like to highlight are 
Corfu and The Peppertree Grill.

 The Peppertree Grill previously T-Boyles, previously Café 322, and 
previously The Peppertree Grill. Yes, it is back. The owners are the Lopez 
family.same family as before with one exception. George and Consuelos son 
Ryan is now in charge. Even more importantly, Juan, the magician chef is 
back in the kitchen working miracles. I dare you to come try their Empanada 
appetizer. And stay for dinner. The Peppertree Grill is on the Northeast 
corner (almost) of Sierra Madre Blvd. just east of Lima.

 Corfu is known by many as a great Mediterranean Food Restaurant. 
HOWEVER, what you might not know is they serve everything from 
kebabs to pasta, steaks to fish, vegetarian to cheeseburgers. And the food is 
extraordinarily good. Not only do they have a Juan in the kitchen like the 
Peppertree Grill, they also have a Martin and a Julio. If you like lasagna, 
they don’t have it. What they do have is something just like lasagna…maybe 
better. It is a Greek dish called moussaka. I love it. Tuesdays and Wednesdays 
during lunch they have a buffet where, for $10.99 you can all you want, and 
try several different types of food. Corfu is at 48 W. Sierra Madre Blvd. (a few 
storefronts west of Baldwin Avenue on the south side of the street).

 Okay, we have all been suspicious about how the country is progressing 
in 2013. A good friend forwarded me these proofs that the economy is really 
struggling (Thank you Cindy)

 Today she received a pre-declined credit card in the mail.

 CEO’s are now playing miniature golf.

 EXXON-Mobil had to lay off 25 congressmen.

 Angelina Jolie is now adopting children from America.

 Motel Six isn’t leaving the light on for us anymore.

 A picture is now worth only 200 words.

 Wall Street has been renamed, “Wal-Mart Street.

 Yes, many think it is really bad. Reminds me of when Will Rogers was 
asked how the economy was doing. He said, “Things will get better despite 
our efforts to improve them.” 

 Nice to talk to you again.

Mountain Views News

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