Finding my organic community in York

Posted on May 17, 2012 by Bethany Fehlinger

An early June share from Goldfinch Farm

It is that time again for this night-shift copy editor to wake up as the sun begins to shine in the window, only five hours of sleep stolen from the Sandman.

I put on my ripped pair of jeans, a beat-up T-shirt and old Timberland boots that will be caked in dirt and mud once again. I greet my equally groggy fellow farm hands and we dig in York County dirt (the Goldfinch variety) for four hours. I learn many new things about farming, food and life. I am asked, “So, what is today’s top news?” as they know I helped in some way put the paper together that they will read later.

This year, as May got closer, my mother asked me why I was helping at the farm again. She told me to just buy a share, deal with the expense. This conversation made me realize that money wasn’t the only motivation for me crawling all over farmland once a week on little sleep — the community I found among these people is what draws me back.

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Mentorship programs: Do they work?

Posted on May 16, 2012 by Jess Krout

We could all use a little help from our friends. And family. And sometimes even complete strangers.

Before I started college, I had no idea what to expect besides rigorous academic work, eating lots of Easy Mac, and fraternity parties, which I would never attend.

The summer before school started, I was fortunate to be placed in a mentorship program that shook those stereotypes. My awesome mentor said I could email her with any question (no question too dumb). From laundry to the dining hall, she explained what life would be like for the next four years. She told me she didn’t party either, and she survived. The food was actually decent — you don’t have to live on mac and cheese. And the work wasn’t always so bad. Some of it was fun; some of it challenged you, but in a good way.

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‘Grown Up Slumber Parties’: friendship, relationships, and girl-time tomfoolery

Posted on May 15, 2012 by E.C. Pollick

I'll be Slumber Partying my whole life, probably. (Image courtesy of pinterest.com)


A dear friend of mine from my college days introduced me to this quote by Jim Jarmusch:

“Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations…Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent…In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: ‘It’s not where you take things from—It’s where you take them to.’”

I’ve been a creative writer since I was 12, and most of my material is, well, borrowed. OK, stolen. I preface all of this because my latest project, “Grown Up Slumber Parties” I recognize is essentially a mash up of “Sex and the City”, “He’s Just Not that Into You”, and every single chick flick ever made.

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Feeding our feelings: Millennials’ emotional
connection with restaurant chains

Posted on May 15, 2012 by April Trotter

How does this Chick-fil-A Spicy Chicken Sandwich make you feel?

Growing up, my fast-food intake was very limited.

I remember getting Burger King kids’ meals every Halloween on the way to go trick-or-treating and visiting Cooper’s in Scranton for our birthdays each year. (Free lobster and cake? Yes, please.)

Those few special occasions aside, it was all home-cooked meals.

Now, I eat out at least twice a week — more if I’m delaying the inevitable and am in a grocery-shopping standoff with the boyfriend.

A recent article in the Los Angeles Times, “Favorite millennial restaurants: In-N-Out, Chick-fil-A,” said my fellow 20-somethings have a direct spending power of $200 billion. And apparently we’re out to spend a good chunk of that change on food.

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Searching for a forever home

Posted on May 14, 2012 by Sarah Chain
Backyard outdoors

I took this photo of my grandparents' backyard when I visited in October. I was so excited to be outdoors that I pulled on a sweatshirt (hood up) and covered my legs with a blanket so I could have coffee on the porch in 47-degree morning temps.

When I moved into my apartment in downtown York last May, I told my parents it was my forever home. I’d moved too many times, and I was done.

Never mind the fact that my lease doesn’t permit a second tenant (marriage is out, as are babies). I’m just never moving again.

And I am beyond thrilled to renew my lease this year — for the first time in six years of apartment living.

It’s just that I went home this weekend, to Connecticut’s glorious lakes and forests and lush green grass. And I got a little itch. A little moving itch.

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Eat It! York County: Nettles

Posted on May 13, 2012 by Stephanie Reighart

Nettle tea

Hiking through a swath of state-owned land last summer just north of State College, I was day-dreaming about the juicy, ripe blueberries I had found along the trail the day before. Blueberries love the sun and disturbed soil of pipeline and electric transmission line clear cuts. The bushes lined the trail and so I took advantage of the sunny day, the cool breeze and the abundant growth. I dropped my pack and picked as many blueberries as I could eat.

The next day, under the thick canopy of Parker Dam State Park, thinking of blueberries, I was jolted back to the present by a prickling pain on my shins. Before even looking down I knew the source of my discomfort. Stinging nettles.
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How to walk in heels, pumps or stilettos without falling on your face

Posted on May 11, 2012 by Ashley May

I'm trying to learn how to walk like a lady, but haven't mastered how to walk in this heel yet. Photo illustration -- Ashley May

Monday I almost killed myself walking into work wearing black pumps (as pictured above). My personal goal of wearing the heels for at least half the day failed before making it past the parking lot. The shoes were too big, and even with inserts, my foot slipped swiftly out of my footwear, making me look like a toppling, wounded giraffe. Thank goodness I caught myself before my nose hit the pavement. And, thank goodness I brought an extra pair of flats.

I’ve never had an impressive collection of stilettos. Over the years, maybe I’ve picked up one or two that are really beautiful. Honestly, I never thought I had a reason to buy them, especially as a college student living in Ithaca, N.Y. Traipsing through ten inches of snow in stilettos is not exactly my idea of sane. With that said, I do have a respect for the stiletto and I have always associated the shoe with the look of a career woman. So, now, I feel like I have no excuse as to why I shouldn’t be able to wear one. After all, here I am, in my 20s, working full time, living in the “real world” and trying to be a classy lady.

Problems that frequently end in a fall: I like walking fast, I don’t pick up my feet enough and I can’t help but slide on any flooring but carpet. So, instead of looking like a stylish lady, I end up looking like a walking disaster. But, I’m determined.

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Getting nostalgic about Pokemon

Posted on May 10, 2012 by Dan Rorabaugh

The holographic Charizard was to my childhood was the Red Ryder BB gun was to Ralphie in "A Christmas Story." It was a big deal.

While I was back home this past weekend, I did a little treasure hunting. See, the things I used to geek out about in my childhood have this really weird habit of popping up again at random stages of my life. I get nostalgic about something, try to dig up old memories and indulge myself in the past for a little while.

This month, it seems my inner 10-year-old has a hankering for Pokemon. You may remember this ridiculous fad from the late ’90s and early 2000s as a lot of noise and colors with more marketing tie-ins than really should be legally possible. I remember it as the single largest influence on my childhood nerdiness.

The crazy creatures from Japan resurfaced recently during random conversations. A few talks of “Remember when …” and “Did you ever …” turned into legitimate curiosity about the franchise’s popular trading card game. A friend asked if I could dig some of my old ones up and teach her how to play. I had enough at my apartment in Mechanicsburg to go over the basics (and naturally and in a somewhat humiliating fashion, I lost), but I really wanted to go all out. Continue reading →

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‘I want to ride by bicycle’ and thinking I am invincible

Posted on May 10, 2012 by Bethany Fehlinger

Yes, the title of my post is from a Queen song. I am obsessed with the band, but the point of this post isn’t about the singing sensation but riding my brand new bicycle.

There was a time when I thought I was invincible. As I got older and my knees, ankles and shins began giving out, I felt like crying that at the age of 26, I couldn’t just go out and run like before. I began a recovery plan and that included buying a bicycle and commuting all over York.

My new baby

But before my tires touched York County ground, they touched down first in Virginia. My boyfriend and I took an anniversary trip to Damascus, Va., because I somehow never got the idea of being invincible out of my brain. I am not a fan of the woods, but as I sit behind a computer and look at the pretty pictures of the Appalachian Trail, I think I could do it. Maybe even be a thru-hiker one day, I convince myself. And where else to try these things than Trail Town USA?

I also decided to start cycling, as my boyfriend loves it and it is an easy way to burn off calories. Well, I thought it could be easy, forgetting I hadn’t sat on two wheels in more than eight years. When people say, “it’s like riding a bicycle,” they were right. I got the swing of things quickly, except gripping the handlebars too hard.

Here is where my invincibility came in: After hiking for two hours the first morning of our trip, my boyfriend and I went back to our room and got supplies for a bike ride on the Virginia Creeper Trail. It is a lot like our Heritage Rail Trail, so I wasn’t worried — at least at that moment.

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The idea of having children terrifies me and it’s not why you would think

Posted on May 10, 2012 by Kate Harmon

Yeah, I'd be that little kid.

I can already guess the reaction I’m going to get from many people who know me well about this column, but I’m prepared to deal with the mockery.

I am terrified at the idea of being a parent one day — and it’s not for the reason you all may think. Despite my gruff attitude toward kids in public (I smiled at a baby during Sunday’s York Revs game and it cried), I know that one day I wouldn’t be adverse to the idea of one of my own. And it’s not that I don’t feel mature enough or ready to put that baby first these days.

Having been a police reporter for years and now as an editor, it’s the things I read or write daily that have me so scared.

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