WILKES-BARRE — Every day in this great Wyoming Valley, great things happen.
We are about to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the opening of the refurbished Diamond of the Downtown — the F.M. Kirby Center for the Performing Arts.
And in a few days, thousands will gather in Kirby Park for the America250PA concert as we celebrate our country’s 250th birthday.
And this past week, 554 volunteers, representing various businesses, schools, and community organizations, fanned out across the area on Wednesday to take part in the United Way of Wyoming Valley’s 33rd annual Day of Caring.
Sara Peperno, president and CEO, said the volunteers visited and helped at 44 nonprofits across the region, completing projects ranging from painting and landscaping to tidying grounds.
Peperno said the projects help strengthen the organizations and programs serving Wyoming Valley residents.
For more than three decades, Peperno said Day of Caring has connected volunteers with local nonprofit organizations in need of additional support — allowing projects that may otherwise require significant staff time and resources to be completed.
“This event continues to highlight the power of collaboration, bringing together volunteers, sponsors, nonprofit partners, and community leaders around a shared commitment to improving the quality of life throughout the region,” Peperno said. “Beyond the projects themselves, Day of Caring celebrates the spirit of service that exists throughout the community. Hundreds of volunteers are choosing to invest their time and talents to support local organizations, demonstrating the generosity, teamwork, and community pride that have made Day of Caring a lasting tradition for 33 years.”
My friend Sara is right on point there — this community always responds when called upon to help — long live that “Valley With a Heart” spirit.
The Day of Caring got me to thinking about a warm summer day of my youth when my pal, Chris, and I decided to do something that we thought would be an example of us caring about our neighborhood — well, at least Chris’ house. And his faithful pet dog, Blackie.
This was a day without the usual options of up-against, a game played with a rubber ball that we would throw up against a wall. And our other pals weren’t around to play Wiffle Ball in my backyard or stocking ball on the street.
We weren’t in the mood for an adventurous walk along the creek all the way to the water dams on Plymouth Mountain, where we would soak our feet in the water as we observed all of nature’s beauty.
No, on this day, Chris and I had a better plan.
We took a can of green paint and two brushes from his grandfather’s cellar. We walked up Reynolds Street and decided to paint. We painted the garbage can, the kitchen window, and Blackie, the dog, whom we appropriately re-named “Greenie.”
Luckily, Chris’ mom decided to look out her kitchen window to check on us, but she couldn’t see through the green paint. She came out and found us painting Blackie — we had his back and sides pretty covered in green paint. She was not laughing.
Instead, we had to scrub the still-wet paint off the window, the house, the garbage can, and Blackie. It took a lot of soap and water, but we got it done. Chris’ mom told me to go home and tell my mother what we did.
Chris was told to take a bath and stay in his room.
Our explanation that we were bored kids on a summer day, looking for something to do, did not go over well. We really thought painting the garbage can and part of Chris’ house was a good idea. Blackie, however compliant he was, probably would have preferred we didn’t paint him green. We were kids.
Many years later, I decided to purge my garage — a process I tell you that is ongoing to this day.
There was a lot of stuff/junk in my garage — much of it is long gone. But there is more to purge.
There were things in my garage that I am certain I valued for way too many years, hoping that I would one day find a place or use for most of them. That never happened. So I separated junk from sentimentality and parted with many of my life’s mementos.
That has always been the most difficult task for me. Especially when much of my childhood and family past were separated from me involuntarily by the Agnes flood of 1972.
There were boxes, containers, bags, and buckets filled with stuff I needed to process through and discard. It took some time because I fully expected many of those items to evoke memories — some good, some sad — from my past. But I persevered — determined to rid my garage and my life of these items, once regarded as absolutely essential to my very existence.
In fact, once the Great Garage Purge is completed, I may even get up the energy and guts to clean out my hot tub, which is now used as a gigantic storage bin. It will need to be tuned up.
The hot tub provided daily soaks that revitalized an aging body that endured almost daily games of basketball for several decades. I’m sure it could again be a welcoming place for old bones and muscles.
Celebrate the Kirby Center. Make every day a Day of Caring. Purge your garage.
But never paint your dog.