The scene of Las Night’s Live Blogging event: The corner where the Basta Pasta meets the Cabana Bar.

This is an exciting moment in the life of the Skippack Blogger. I am doing something new: Live blogging. I write my thoughts directly into the WordPress app on my brand new iPad, while I explore Skippack. Thanks to Mrs. Skippack Blogger for finding room for the iPad in our budget.

My Date is Fully Charged

My iPad is my “date,” so speak. Here we are, together at the outdoor patio in the Basta Pasta facing the Cabana bar and enjoying a front table seat to a performance by Karmic Repair Company (like their Facebook Page). Skilled, seasoned musicians, they play classic rock with edge, but also with mature, sophisticated style.

The clear plastic enclosure that shelters the patio in colder months has been taken down, a sign that spring settled in. Since you are kind enough to stop by to join me dear reader, I promise to be brief.

So how have you been? Not much new here. I am working in center city, Philadelphia. Boy am I happy when I get back to my home in Skippack. As soon as I get into the house I hang up my monthly SEPTA pass and grab the Sony Cyber-shot and take a photo-journey thru the village, catching Skippack from different angles and in different moods as the night falls.

Members of the Band Karmic Repair Company, from left to right: Eric Worthington, Andy Haley, and Graham Ford.

The Heart Beat of Skippack

The corner formed by the Basta Pasta and the Cabana Bar is the heart beat of Skippack. The activity here, coming and going, conversations, cars pulling in and out of the lot, musicians playing, gives Skippack Village a pulse. Center City has a pulse too, but it has no peace. Skippack has a pulse and it offers peace.

In the city I work for “the man,” though all my managers and the managers above them are women. My job is in corporate communications. I write what I am told and do my best to fit it into the style that meets the company’s needs.

Here in Skippack I am free to write whatever I want. It may be the only real freedom I will ever know. What other freedom is there? The right to vote? A election today is a choice between Tweedledum and Tweedledee. That is not freedom.

How much of our destiny is in our hands? We are born into our families and our social class, and must learn to earn a living using the aptitude and character traits we inherit, in the framework of the economic opportunities of our times; not a heck of a lot of freedom.

Laura Thompson provided hospitality and cappuccino during my live blogging event.

But thought is free; our freedom is to live as unique individuals and express our uniqueness. So I come to the Basta Pasta, sit at a table, and write my blog post, listening to great musicians express themselves through music.

The Heart of the Skippack Blogger

I am starting to really miss Mrs. Skippack Blogger.

She is at home: I cannot see her beautiful eyes nor partake of her kindness. Karmic Repair plays the soundtrack of my thoughts: A bluesy rock song in a minor key. “I love you girl, God knows I do,” the singer cries, his voice is rich and haunting.

This is enough freedom for one evening. I pack up the iPad, pay the check, and go back home.

Self portrait by the Skippack blogger as I live blog

A sign of the season: Cherry blossoms adorning Skippack’s main street

I love Skippack spring. It is a season of new beginnings and new possibilities. I shed the sluggishness of winter. The weather and longer days prod me outdoors. I grab my Sony Cyber-shot and off I go.

Time to explore something new, start over, forget the mistakes of the past, and celebrate the present moment, for the delicate cherry blossoms that decorate the trees along Skippack Village’s main street won’t stick around for long.

I want to capture not only images of spring but that springtime feeling. I can’t find the words. I need a friend. I call upon a poet from years past, Thomas Carew, to lend a hand. Yo, help me out, Tom. Give me words for that springtime feeling:

Now do a choir of chirping minstrels bring
In triumph to the world the youthful Spring.
The valleys, hills, and woods in rich array
Welcome the coming of the long’d-for May.

We may have hi-tech gadgets, but this British fella born in 1595 had the right words for spring.

Jumping a continent over and four centuries ahead to 2013, here’s what I love about Skippack spring: People coming to towns, theater, festivals, First Fridays, the crowd at the Cabana bar, outdoor dining, and beautiful walks down Skippack Pike.

Placrafters of Skippack barn Theater: If you look closely at the lower right corner of the photo, you will see a man running. He shouted “I Love Skippack” as he passed by.

Give me time on the weekend to shed the insanity of the work week. I will learn again to be grateful: for the earth and sky, my neighbors, the smile of each child I see, and for the very dirt upon which Skippack is built; it is all sacred and a gift.

Spring Happenings, Skippack 2013

Here are some opportunities to enjoy the spring season in Skippack:

Skippack Theater Season

This is our fourth year as subscribers to Playcrafters of Skippack. Each year, I am again amazed by the skill of our actors and the outstanding quality of direction and production. This year’s opening play, a comedy with tragic overtones, had me laughing from the beginning of the first scene. Mrs. Skippack Blogger says that I was crying by the end of the last scene, though I deny it altogether. If you are looking for laughter, emotional catharsis, or both, get thee to Playcrafters of Skippack Barn Theater. For anyone who recognizes the literary reference in the preceding line: Playcrafters will be performing a Shakespeare play, Two Gentlemen of Verona, this year.

Farmer’s Market of Skippack

The team for the 2013 Farmer’s Market of Skippack: from left to right, Tracy Damiani, Michael Damiani, Doug Giles.

This is the second year of the revived Farmer’s Market of Skippack, and there is a shift in management, with Michael Damiani, one of the original partners, taking charge with help from his wife Tracy Damiani, and her brother Doug Giles. I look forward to getting to know these folks better, and perhaps joining them in some close-to-the-earth blogging as this worthy young enterprise grows.

First Fridays of 2013

Now in its fourth year, this Skippack festival offers live music, magic with Al Angello, food, outdoor art, and the opportunity to visit shops until late in the evening. First Fridays is a gift to the village from our diverse merchant community, who invest their time and money to make Skippack shine especially bright one Friday night each month.

Skippack’s Spring Wine Festival

The weather is fine, time for music and wine: Skippack’s first Annual Spring Food and Wine Festival will take place Saturday, May 4. Guests will enjoy a range of wine and food samples in multiple covered venues throughout town, and musicians will entertain.

Skippack Springfest

Tulips blooming in front of the Parc Bistro restaurant during Skippack spring

Family entertainment, food, crafts, and much more, Saturday and Sunday, May 11 and 12. This is the one Skippack event I never am able to attend because it falls on Mother’s Day weekend: I am always out of town visiting Mama Skippack Blogger.

Red Carpet Bash

Fellow local web writer J.C. Sager, editor-in-chief of Montco Happening, will be hosting a red carpet bash, Thursday, May 23, to honor winners of the Most Happening contest, in which people voted for their Montgomery County, PA favorites. In case you haven’t heard: I get to walk the red carpet, thanks to folks who voted me the Most Happening Blogger.

I invite you, dear reader, to attend: See the Skippack Blogger get fifteen minutes of fame; at least I am hoping my fame can last that long if I walk slowly and the carpet is long enough. The award is as much yours as mine; you helped create this beautiful community, here and on our Facebook page. Staying up late hours to write is a less lonely endeavor knowing you are on the other side of the screen, willing to read.

Other Skippack folk to be honored as Most Happening: Frank Raffa (owner of Sound Sensation DJs), Charlie King and Aimee Rush (owners of Miss Riddle’s Candy Shop), Andrea O’Driscoll (artist and owner of Art by Heart Gallery) and Lucretia Coleman, Jameri Artistry.

Early evening, Skippack, spring 2013

Best of All

More than anything, I look forward to getting out, seeing familiar faces, meeting new people, conversations, laughter, and jokes: the small town warmth that mixes with our shops, restaurants, events, and beautiful flowers, greenery, and village architecture, to make Skippack the perfect town for the season of hope and new beginnings.

Spring magic: Magician and juggler Al Angello will be entertaining at First Fridays in Skippack this year: Look for him in front of Miss Riddle’s Candy Shop (and tell him the Skippack Blogger says hello).

The Skippack Blogger

Dear reader, welcome to the Skippack Blogger’s library. It is my man cave, my hideaway, my sanctuary from the world.

When you visit my home, look to the room at the right as you enter. You will see a Chinese desk with two swords hanging above it. Two comfortable leopard print chairs face a built-in bookcase made from solid oak, and filled with finely bound books. Come on in.

There is a book I want to show you: Skippack School.

There is a book I want to show you: Skippack School. It tells the story of a boy named Eli Schrawder who with his family moves to Skippack.

Unlike young families who move here today, the Schrawders do not arrive with a U-Haul filled with furniture from Raymour & Flanagan and a flat-screen. It is the mid 1700s. The Schrawders are Mennonite immigrants fleeing religious persecution in Germany.

Eli and his family travel first by boat and arrive in Skippack by cart. With the help of neighbors who share their German heritage and language and desire for freedom of worship, they build a log house on farmland along Skippack creek.

Paradise, Except You Have to Go to School

Skippack School is a work of historical fiction written by Marguerite de Angeli and published in 1939. It is a thin, square volume with large print and beautiful pictures. When I am weary, I like to settle down with just such a book. Precious and sacred is my hour of reading. I get to see the America of Eli Schrawder’s time; fresh, unspoiled, and filled with potential:

Now they were almost there. Eli looked up through the great trees, so much like the ones he remembered in Germany. The woods were full of the songs of birds; squirrels and small animals of all kinds crossed the wagon trail, and the land seemed full of plenty.

Eli Schrawder in Skippack School

One thing Eli does not like about his new life in America: going to school.

He dragged his feet through cool leaves and grass, looked up through tall trees and wished he could stay at home, even if it meant working in the fields, chopping wood for Mom; yes, even if it meant minding the baby in her cradle! Anything would be better than going to this new school! “Probably,” he thought, “the schoolmaster will be ugly and cross.”

Meet the Teacher: Christopher Dock

When Eli arrives, the schoolmaster is real life historical figure Christopher Dock, who came to the area around 1718 from Germany at the behest of settlers to teach in Skippack, as well as some neighboring communities. Many people in the Skippack area have heard of Christopher Dock, thanks to a private high School in nearby Lansdale which bears his name.

It is Christopher Dock’s job to teach Eli. He also helps the boy learn to control his wilder impulses. And unlike many other teachers of his day, Master Dock does not resort to using rod, cane, or whip, much to Eli’s surprise.

I can identify with Eli Schrawder and his experiences at Skippack School. Like many boys, and girls too, Eli desires to please his parents and teacher, but is also compelled by an impulse to cause mischief. Life itself has been my Skippack school; like Eli, I have had to learn to control my own mischievous impulses.

Meet the Teacher: Walt Johnson

Walt Johnson

I seek out my friend from the Skippack Historical Society, Walt Johnson, a man dedicated to our local history, and blessed with a strong, clear voice for sharing his knowledge. Walt is a retired high school math teacher and soccer and baseball coach with deep Skippack roots; his ancestors arrived in Germantown in the late 1600s, then moved to Skippack in the early 1700s.

Walt Johnson, a fifth generation teacher in the Skippack area, plays the part of a colonial era instructor at a living history event last year in Skippack.

Walt is a fifth generation teacher in the Skippack area. His great great grandfather, Henry G. Johnson, was a teacher in Skippack School. He began teaching in Skippack in the 1820s, about 60 years after the time of Christopher Dock.

By then, the Skippack School had moved to a new location, a building which still stands in a clearing in the woods across the street from the Lower Skippack Mennonite Church. I get in Walt’s car. We are going to Skippack School.

Inside Skippack School

We arrive at a plain building with a gabled roof and a single cupola. Inside, the floor has been cleared and tables, chairs, and benches, stacked along the sides. It is in good repair. The church maintains the property and uses it occasionally for functions and events.

“The book Skippack School,” explains Walt, “helps us understand the importance of the education of children for early settlers in Skippack. Christopher Dock, the schoolmaster, had special ways of getting across important points about education.

“He enforced rules of discipline, but he preferred to catch a student doing a good thing and reward them, rather than punish a student for doing bad.”

Skippack School still stands. The school moved from its original location, a log cabin, to this building.

The Death and Life of the Schoolmaster

We leave the school and drive a short distance to the parking lot of the Lower Skippack Mennonite Church. Walt takes me inside and shows me a beautiful stained glass artwork which depicts Master Dock kneeling in prayer.

It is his last moment on earth. According to legend, in 1771, Master Dock died in his schoolroom while on his knees in prayer. Whether or not one believes the legend, the meaning is clear: profound was the faith and dedication to learning of the people who laid the foundation for our beautiful Skippack way of life.

The Lesson of Skippack School

Christopher Dock had left instructions: After his death, he would allow his writings to be published. He left behind a book of guidelines for children describing proper behavior in the classroom, community, church, and home. This book was an influence on the teaching methods of Walt’s great great grandfather and remains a source of inspiration for Walt.

I ask Walt what message he sees in the life and work of Christopher Dock.

Stained glass artwork depicting Christopher Dock kneeling in prayer in his classroom.

“I believe in Christopher Dock’s basic philosophy,” explains Walt. “The learning environment is better if you try to catch kids doing something good rather than just trying to catch them when they’re misbehaving. Don’t put the spotlight on the negative all the time. Reward people who are doing the right thing, in a humble way.

“Focusing on positive actions is better than negative reinforcement, even for children. Christopher Dock wanted to get that point across in a time when punishments meted out to children could be severe.”

The Skippack Blogger’s Commentary

So the lesson of Skippack School boils down to this: Focus on the positive.

It is perhaps a simple message. But as one leaves behind childhood and journeys further into adulthood, it becomes harder to abide by this lesson. As one faces disappointment, false expectations, betrayal, and regrets, focusing on the positive seems all but impossible. I think it will not be long before I need to take a refresher course at Skippack School.

More about Christopher Dock from the Skippack Historical Society.

When not exploring local history, Walt Johnson is a real estate agent with Dager & Dager Realtors in Lederach, PA. 

Eli Schrawder about to toss his hat in the air: a moment of joy depicted in the book Skippack School.

Friends, fellow Skippack residents, citizens of the global Internet  — lend me your eyeballs. I won the vote for the Most Happening Blogger of Montgomery County, Pennsylvania. This is my acceptance speech.

The award was announced last week. I proclaimed my victory on the I Love Skippack Facebook page the following day. This speech is my attempt to make the pleasure linger a bit longer, like reaching for a chocolate chip cookie after a delicious meal, even though I may already be full.

A Word to Potential Hecklers

Uh oh. I hear a few people in the audience groan. Some eyes roll to the heavens. Why the grumbling?

I see: You did not think you were going to hear an acceptance speech. You would rather hear an uplifting story about life in Skippack or a description of our upcoming events.

Well, dear reader, this speech is given in a virtual auditorium, not a real one. To leave, you do not have to climb over the feet and lower limbs of a long row of spectators. No need to fear that the exit door has been locked. You are free to go with a click of the mouse or a touch of your finger.

Indeed, if you find my speech bombastic or dull, I will do everything in my power to make your exit comfortable: Here is our Skippack Events Calendar. If not to your liking, shopping on eBay is always fun. Indeed, the Internet offers you a universe of possibilities.

Now I can deliver my speech only to people who have chosen to stay. Please ignore the sound of footsteps rushing out and the jolting bang of a slamming door, as the last of the discontented flee.

Let us continue.

No One Does It Alone

My award

I would like to acknowledge some key people:

• Mrs. Skippack Blogger: Without her, there is no happiness. She puts up with the sound of keyboard pounding at 3 a.m., and still gives her love. She holds down a demanding job, and provides an organized home perfect for writing and creative thinking. Forever and a day, baby.
• Brad DeForest, web designer and social media specialist: Brad’s awesome skills and guidance as a creative and business partner have been invaluable to me in finding my voice as the Skippack Blogger, as well as dealing with career-related and life challenges. Great talent, great friend, great man.
• My mom and dad and rest of my family, who give their love and support in good times and bad
• Friends without whom life would be empty
• All the people who voted for me
• All the readers of I Love Skippack

Two simple words say it best: Thank you.

The Man Behind the Montco Happening List

Sweet words: J.C. Sager, publisher and  editor-in-chief of Montco Happening, visiting Miss Riddle’s Candy Shop in Skippack. He wrote and published a wonderful article about the Skippack Blogger. Thanks, J.C.

Allow me to acknowledge J.C. Sager, publisher and editor-in-chief of Montco Happening, the home of the Montco Happening List. I met J.C. last week. He impressed me as thoughtful, sincere, and dedicated to building community on the web. Read the kind words he wrote about the Skippack Blogger.

J.C. explains that the Happening list is an effort to give local folks the attention they deserve, but do not always get. The Happening List includes local:

• businesses
• non-profit and charitable organizations
• events
• professionals
• creative individuals
• places to visit

Happening List winners are chosen based solely on votes; one vote per email address. In Montgomery County, more than 50,000 votes were spread out over 100 categories.

I asked how many people voted for me but J.C. will not divulge that information (we’ll let it go). He did tell me he loves the pride people have in Skippack and the enthusiasm expressed by I Love Skippack readers.

J.C.: I hope this is just the beginning of our work and journey together. Take a bow. Good man.

Now to the heart of my speech.

Thoughts on Being Voted Most Happening Blogger of Montgomery County, Pennsylvania.

Emily Dickinson
American Poet, 1830-1886

From the first gold star pasted on a book report during grade school, we are conditioned to depend on the praise and approval of others. The pat on the back from a coach or teammates generates a swell of joy and pride that is hard to discount. As adults, we may be more circumspect, but still long for words of praise and appreciation.

Yet life experience may teach us to rely less on praise and to scorn a pat on the back. Excessive dependency on others for approval may weaken our character. At times, we must discount the opinions of others, even people we love, and stand for what we believe right.

For a writer, the gift from God is the flow of the words itself. Whether my words are appreciated by mortal men and women should be of secondary importance, or perhaps even no importance. Many great writers, for example poet Emily Dickinson, receive scant recognition in their lifetime. Her poems are no less beautiful.

It’s Got to be Real

And yet, when all is said and done, a jolt of joy travels my nervous system when someone makes a comment in praise of the Skippack Blogger. Last week, a woman said my story about the lost wallet moved her. Once a reader facing serious illness told me my writing gave her hope. This gives happiness that is hard to resist. And so, I resist not.

But this happiness incurs an obligation: I am a blogger for a website, not a journalist for a newspaper. I must write from my heart. It is not enough for me to report events in Skippack. I must give you a bit of my soul with each post. To quote a song from the disco era: It’s got to be real.

Skippack Village: My journey as the Skippack Blogger began here. Where will it take me next?

And real it is. My truth is that I need people. Skippack is my chosen town. Writing is my way of reaching out to my neighbors and ultimately the world.

Describing her own poetry, Emily Dickinson wrote the following lines:

This is my letter to the world
That never wrote to me,—

Thanks to the Internet, the world sometimes does write back. When it does, it feels great.

Thanks for voting me the Most Happening Blogger of Montgomery County, PA.

(Applause. Skippack Blogger exits podium. The end.)

Keeping it local: J.C. Sager, left, publisher and editor-in-chief of Montco Happening, and Michael Shaw AKA the Skippack Blogger talk about their community-focused websites at Miss Riddle’s Candy Shop in Skippack.

Another day in paradise: If you live in Skippack, you can say that and mean it.

Today I enjoyed another morning in paradise. I had breakfast at Mal’s American Diner, walked along our beautiful main street snapping photos for the I Love Skippack Facebook page, stopped by to shoot the breeze with my buddy Butch Kaelin at the Southwest Trading Post, and so on, confident that our village is blessed.

But what about the world outside of Skippack? It takes a strong streak of optimism to listen to the horrors reported on the nightly news, from wars far away to crimes and killings taking place closer to home, and still believe the world is a good place.

Sooner or later, we must leave the paradise we call home. At times, I must leave Skippack Village, as I did last Friday, venturing out into that dangerous place, the world.

Beyond Skippack: An Old Fashioned Donut and Some Bananas

I get in my car and leave the house to pick up Mrs. Skippack Blogger from her place of employment, located about 15 miles east of Skippack (I could say East of Eden). Debby walks out of her office and sits down in the car. A couple extra hours of sunlight are left for us to enjoy.

Little does he know: The Skippack Blogger at Dunkin’ Donuts, shortly before I realized my wallet was missing.

Heading home, we stop at Dunkin’ Donuts along Sumneytown Pike in Lansdale, savoring a free old fashioned donut with our coffee thanks to a special AARP discount. From there we go to Weis Market at the corner of Sumneytown Pike and Route 363 to buy some bananas.

The Perfect Afternoon Interrupted

Then it happens. We go to the checkout line to pay for four green bananas carefully chosen by Mrs. Skippack Blogger. I reach into my pocket for my wallet. There is no wallet.

In the Western world, we like to accumulate wealth and possessions because it gives us a sense of power and control. However, sometimes our possessions rebel. They seem to rise up and say, “you may think that you own us, that you control us, but you don’t really.”

One way our possessions make this point is by getting lost, by finding a place to hide which is beyond our control.

The Mad Hunt

Debby and I begin retracing our steps at the Weis Market, becoming more anxious when the wallet fails to appear in any obvious place. Debby lifts up bunches of bananas, to see if the wallet has slipped out of my pocket into a field of produce. A woman notices and asks what she is doing. We go to the customer service counter and asked if anyone has turned in a wallet: no luck.

The Dunkin’ Donuts in Lansdale, along Sumneytown Pike, on the day the Skippack Blogger lost his wallet.

After retracing our steps half a dozen times, we get ready to abandon that location, leaving our phone number at the customer service counter. We agree the wallet has to be at Dunkin’ Donuts. However, a visit back to Dunkin’ Donuts proves fruitless (or should I say wallet-less). We leave our phone number there as well.

Back to the car: We drive down Sumneytown Pike again. We try one more desperate search at Weis Market. No dice: We return to the car and sit in the front seat to plan a strategy, coming to terms with the fact the wallet is gone, maybe for good.

The Skippack Blogger Doesn’t Listen to His Wife

Mrs. Skippack Blogger advises me to call the police.

“No Debby,” I answer, the tension rising in my voice, “it’s too soon. The wallet’s just lost. No crime has been committed. Let’s wait before we get the police involved.”

However, as children of Western Civilization, we must take action. So we do. We take three steps:

• Cancelling my credit card and requesting a replacement.
• Going to the bank, cancelling my bank card, and getting a replacement.
• Going to Jack Rabbit auto tags in Kulpsville to request a new copy of my driver’s license.

Mrs. Skippack Blogger at Dunkin’ Donuts: Listening to this lady would have spared the Skippack Blogger a lot of trouble.

I ask the gentleman behind the Jack Rabbit counter if he thinks informing the police is a good idea. Yes, he says, go ahead and call the police.

Back home, I call the Pennsylvania State Police Barracks in Skippack. The phone call is directed to a police officer who asks my name.

“Michael Shaw? We’ve been looking for you. Someone found your wallet at Dunkin’ Donuts. They turned it in to the police station in Upper Gwynedd Township.”

The Skippack Blogger’s Wallet Returns Home

Before long, we take yet another trip down Sumneytown Pike, driving to the Upper Gwynedd Township Police Station to retrieve my wallet. We are greeted at the door by Sergeant Scott Clark, a friendly, easy-going gentleman with a ready smile, who seems as happy to deliver the wallet as we are to receive it.

I look inside my wallet. Everything is untouched: All my cards, all my cash, just as it was.

“Officer, we’d like to give a reward to whoever turned in my wallet.”

Sergeant Scott Clark of the Upper Gwynedd Township Police Department: One of the heroes of the tale of the Skippack Blogger’s lost wallet.

“You can’t,” says Sergeant Clark, “the individual has requested to remain anonymous.”

The Moral of the Story

I want this simple event to stand as a reminder that, despite the harshness of our times, our world is filled with people performing acts of kindness: Acts of extraordinary kindness take place on the most ordinary of days. You will never hear about these people on the nightly news.

Not only the good person who returned my wallet: Each person we met on this adventure was remarkable: A lovely young women who worked at Dunkin’ Donuts, the manager and his assistant at Weis Market, the woman who assisted us at the bank, the gentleman at Jack Rabbit auto tags, and finally Sergeant Scott Clark: Each person acted with patience and forbearance. Everyone seemed to want to help us.

It is not only wallets and other possessions that we lose. Sometimes in the rush to make a living or pursue our personal goals, we lose ourselves. We lose ourselves by taking others for granted. Blessings to the wonderful people who show us the way back home.

Awesome DJ in an awesome town: Gerry Kelly in Skippack.

The Skippack Blogger and his wife, Mrs. Blogger, love to go to Hotel Fiesole (pronounced fee-soh-lay) to dance the night away.

We are especially happy when music, light show, and party atmosphere are courtesy of fellow Skippack resident DJ Gerry Kelly. Gerry makes a terrific impression. He is a high-energy, straightforward, positive guy who proudly calls Skippack home. I enjoy watching him motivate the folks on the Fiesole dance floor.

Yeah!

Gerry is a loyal reader of I Love Skippack and our Facebook page. All I need to know. After meeting up at Skippack Pizza, we drive out to the Guitar Center in Plymouth Meeting. Gerry is on the hunt for new lighting for his DJ show. Aside from pumping up the jam, Gerry is a health and physical education teacher in a nearby elementary school, married, and a dad to two sons, aged 7 and 9.

Gerry checks out DJ equipment at the Guitar Center in Plymouth Meeting.

At the wheel, Gerry cranks up iHeartRadio (digital Internet radio) played through his Android phone: His speakers blast out Yeah! with Usher, Ludacris, & Lil Jon. The boisterous dance beat and blunt shouting make the ride a blast. Skippack Blogger feels young. Riding down Germantown Pike, Gerry and I discover what we have in common — Skippack-mania.

Gerry first heard about Skippack in 2000 and moved here with his wife in 2001. “Skippack is an awesome town,” says Gerry. “It’s family centered and community oriented. It’s also a great place for dinner, shopping, entertainment. Skippack has it all.”

Gerry had been a DJ and played drums in a cover band during college. A few years ago, he rediscovered his passion for deejaying and started a small business, G.K Entertainment. In Skippack, he works the Family Fun Run and the Halloween Party at the 4-H center, both Skippack Lions Club events. This year he started gigs at the Hotel Fiesole.

“The fun part about deejaying at Hotel Fiesole is you get a really mixed crowd. You get people in their 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, and up. It gives me an opportunity to spin some of the greatest hits from the 70s, 80s, and 90s, thru today’s hits.

“At Fiesole, I’m going to be playing everything from Earth, Wind, and Fire, O’Jays, and the Temptations to current dance music by recording artists such as Pitbull, Usher, and Beyonce.

“My passion,” adds Gerry, “is 80s and 90s dance music; songs like Vogue by Madonna.”

We arrive at the Guitar Center. Gerry goes off in search of lighting for his show at the Fiesole this Saturday. I snap a few photos. The highlight of the visit occurs when Gerry tests out a drum set. Watch him go in the video below:

Before the evening ends, I have a favor to ask.

“Gerry, will you take some song requests from my wife. You see, Mrs. Skippack Blogger loves to dance”

Dedicated to the One I Love

The Skippack Blogger and his wife at Hotel Fiesole

On the dance floor at Hotel Fiesole, Debby’s smile extends from ear to ear and all traces of seriousness, self-doubt, and anxiety disappear. Our plan for our late life marriage was to grow old together, but on the Fiesole dance floor we grow young together.

As a teenager, Debby grew up in a home with a strict emphasis on education; her upbringing cultivated the self-discipline which became the foundation of her organized and successful life. But she also found her escape valve — hours spent watching Soul Train on television. That’s how she got her dance moves and sense of fun.

Fall in love and you will discover that there is always another layer to the human soul. Time and shared experience peel it away. My wife knows not the ways of idleness; hard work and routine are for her principles beyond questioning. But she refuses to let our obligations or life’s inevitable losses stop us from making time for fun, a lesson she absorbed watching the Soul Train dance line. Her outlook on life makes Skippack the perfect town for us.

To this day, she loves the playlist of her youth: Earth, Wind, and Fire, Cheryl Lynn, Gloria Gaynor, Kool and the Gang, Evelyn “Champagne” King, the Village People, Chaka Kahn, Ashford & Simpson, Donna Summer, Vicki Sue Robinson, Thelma Houston, the Sugarhill Gang, the Commodores, Peaches & Herb, and others.

A view of Hotel Fiesole in Skippack

Debby’s childhood home was New York City, where disco was born and growing up affords many opportunities to pick up dance moves and try them out. By contrast, I spent my youth in suburbs listening to rock played on the FM radio, and resisted the disco invasion. But now I love the dance mix. Why? Because the woman I love loves it.

Mrs. Skippack Blogger’s Top 10

DJ Gerry, here are 10 songs beloved of my beloved. Please play a few this Saturday at Hotel Fiesole.

September — Earth, Wind, and Fire

Ladies Night — Kool & the Gang

Here Comes the Hotstepper — Ini Kamoze

I know You Want Me (Calle Ocho) — Pitbull

Shame — Evelyn “Champagne” King

Ain’t No Stoppin’ Us Now — McFadden & Whitehead

Let’s Groove — Earth, Wind, and Fire

Celebration — Kool & the Gang

Shake Your Groove Thing — Peaches & Herb

I Feel for You — Chaka Kahn

The Skippack Mix

The sound is urban. The friendly atmosphere is small town. The mix is Skippack.

DJ Gerry Kelly at Hotel Fiesole, 4046 Skippack Pike , 610.222.8009, at 8 pm Sat, May 11.

Contact Gerry Kelly and G.K. Entertainment: djgerrykelly@yahoo.com or  610.608.5216.

Connect with Gerry on Facebook.

Guest author Deborah Fradkin Shaw is also known as Mrs. Skippack Blogger

After they became engaged, Skippack residents Karen Atwood and Brian Sickels faced a decision: where to get married. It was a second wedding for both. What location and venue would best suit this accomplished and multi-faceted couple?

Meet Karen and Brian

Karen is a senior business analyst for a major pharmaceutical company, a lover of the open road, art, and music and a super-classy lady. Her most endearing quality: She is a loyal reader of I Love Skippack and provides frequent LIKES and comments on our Facebook page.

Brian is a soften-spoken but charming gentleman who loves riding his 2011 Harley Davidson TriGlide. When not on the Harley, he is a professor and technical director at the University of the Arts in Philadelphia. He can more than hold his own in a discussion about classics of English literature with my husband, the Skippack Blogger.

Karen and Brian and the Harley TriGlide, about two months before the wedding
Photo credit: Kevin York Photography

Possible Places from Pittsburgh to Paris

Karen and Brian considered a destination wedding in the Caribbean, Atlantic City, or Las Vegas or on a cruise ship, but decided instead to host a small reception, to which they could invite friends and family.

Both love the work of architect Frank Lloyd Wright. They considered getting married at Kentuck Knob, a beautiful property and site of a home designed by Wright located seven miles from his famous house, Fallingwater, near Pittsburgh. Karen, however, realized that coordinating travel and hospitality for guests would be a logistical nightmare.

Both love Paris. One of their fondest memories is flying to Paris for Karen’s birthday and enjoying dinner on top of the Eiffel Tower at restaurant Le Jules Verne. The next best thing, Karen thought, might be get married under the 81 foot Eiffel Tower replica at the Kimmel Center constructed for the 2011 Philadelphia International Festival of the Arts.  However, the only time Philly’s Eiffel Tower was available was 9:45 pm on a Tuesday evening; not an ideal time for a wedding.

Karen and Brian outside the Hotel Fiesole, on the day of their wedding
Photo credit: Kevin York Photography

No Place Like Home (Or a Hotel Near Home)

So far nothing had panned out: Was Karen perhaps ignoring a beautiful opportunity that was, almost literally, in her own backyard? Soon she would learn the same lesson as Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz,” there’s no place like home,” or perhaps a similar lesson, “there’s no place like an elegant boutique hotel close to home.”

Every time Karen and Brian had driven by Hotel Fiesole, they turned to each other and said, “we should really go there sometime,” but they never actually set foot in the lobby.

Luckily, the door to Hotel Fiesole would open digitally. One evening, Karen saw pictures of a wedding at Hotel Fiesole on Facebook, posted by Jill Lewko, owner of An Enchanted Florist at Skippack Village. She loved the beautiful interior of the hotel and the flower displays prepared by An Enchanted Florist. She loved the photographs themselves, taken by Kevin York, a photographer from neighbor town Schwenksville, PA.

Next, Karen called Hotel Fiesole, the Enchanted Florist, and Kevin York Photography. All were available on the date they had chosen for their wedding, December 21, 2012. Without hesitation, Karen and Brian made their decision: They would have a Skippack wedding and booked all 3 vendors right then.

Going Local All the Way

Karen and Brian at the Hotel Fiesole on their wedding day
Photo credit: Kevin York Photography

Once Karen and Brian decided on a Skippack wedding, they went local all the way, seizing the opportunity to put into practice their belief in the need to support locally-owned small business. Karen used Facebook and other websites to find a variety of local vendors. Here is her vendor list:

• Hotel Fiesole — Ceremony, dinner & lodging
• An Enchanted Florist  — Floral decorations (more abut An Enchanted Florist)
• Sinful Cupcake Bakery & Cafe — Wedding Cake (more about the Sinful Cupcake)
• Kevin York Photography (located in neighboring Schwenksville) —  Memories
• Stone Hill Paperie  — Invitations & stationary
• Page Six  —  Dress alterations
• Ken Battista  —  Music for ceremony & cocktail hour (more about Ken)
• Painting With a Twist  —  Pre-wedding girl’s night out
• Mira Salon — Hair
• Body Serene Day Spa — Makeup
• Tiara Nail – Bride & groom mani-pedi
• Floral & Hardy — Guest gifts & decorations
• Wooden Duck — Sweet treats
• Miss Riddle’s Candy Shop —  Sweet treats (more about Miss Riddle’s)
• Chiccarine’s Fine Jewelry (located in neighboring Collegeville) — Brian’s wedding band

Still life on wedding day:
Flowers by An Enchanted Florist ar Skippack Village
Wedding Cake by The Sinful Cupcake Bakery & Cafe
Photo credit: Kevin York Photography

Karen quickly realized the many benefits of keeping it local. “I could easily stop in to see any of the vendors and ask questions or request changes. Several of the vendors worked together previously at Hotel Fiesole, so coordination was a breeze. Their cooperation took much of the stress out of wedding planning.

“I trusted them,” she says.

After the wedding, a guest commented, “I was present as the vendors were setting up. The love and pride that each one took to ensure every detail was perfect was readily apparent. They worked together beautifully.”

Karen adds, “I highly recommend Skippack Village as the perfect location for any celebration: wedding, birthday, anniversary, bridal shower, or baby shower. Our guests are still commenting on how special the evening was for them.“

Perfect Timing: World May End Before the Wedding Reception Does

Under the covered bridge in Skippack, as night falls
Photo credit: Kevin York Photography

December 21, 2012 was a notable date for reasons other than Karen and Brian’s wedding at Hotel Fiesole. It was the winter solstice and the end of the last of the cycles of the Mayan calendar, which led to widespread speculation that the world might end before the Atwood-Sickels wedding reception had finished.

With the end of the Mayan calendar approaching and the end of the world being bantered about, Brian had joked on several occasions that they should just throw a big party, invite all their family and friends, and blow all their money because, he reasoned, “who is going to need money anymore?”

Karen responded that the party he described sounded just like a wedding. Brian lovingly dubbed their celebration the Armageddon Weddin (the “g” in “Wedding” is missing to show it is silent).   

The world did not end on December 21, 2012, as evidenced by the fact that you are reading this blog post. The date still has significance for Karen and Brian. They believe it represents a new age and a new beginning for humanity. For certain, it represents a new beginning on their journey through life together.

We congratulate Karen and Brian and wish them the best. Long after the wedding has ended, Karen and Brian will help make Skippack special, by living here, by being who they are, and by creating happiness: for each other and for all those, like the Skippack Blogger and me, who are blessed to know them.

Wedding portrait: A moment of happiness, a new beginning in life
Photo credit: Kevin York Photography

Guests at the wedding: The Skippack Blogger with his wife Debby, the author of this guest blog post
Photo credit: Kevin York Photography

Good people make for a great town: Residents of Skippack Brian Sickels and Karen Atwood with their horse, Sir Lancelot.
Photo credit: Kevin York Photography

Skippack Village on a bright winter morning

Captured on Camera and Communicated Via Facebook

Skippack has no official events in January and February about which, in my role as the Skippack Blogger, I must write. These two event-free months allow me the freedom to enjoy the town in and of itself; offer me a chance to take a bite into the essence of Skippack Village.

The Resident-Tourist

The moods of the village are created by the weather. I like clear, cold days the best. The sky is a perfect blue and I walk into town to take pictures, the proud owner of a new Sony Cybershot. It is a great joy to be a tourist in the town where I live, and take pictures of our main street in all its aspects.

How lucky to live in a town where one can play tourist, as well as resident. It is difficult to imagine being a tourist along a street of suburban, cookie-cutter McMansions. Perhaps if I were an alien visiting from another planet, the suburban landscape would fascinate me, but as a mere human, I need a real American small town to spark my imagination.

A foggy winter day: The moods of the village are created by the weather

On a clear day I can think clearly. The world, captured in my camera’s digital memory, seems precise and meaningful. Next, I will post photos taken during my walk on our I Love Skippack Facebook page.

Borrowed Words

When I return home and sit at my computer to post my photo on Facebook, I may write a caption based on the words of a great poet: Shakespeare, Emily Dickinson, or Wallace Stevens, for example.

Why borrow words? Who in our harried, hi-tech world has the luxury to cultivate their own soul like fine wine and then savor the wisdom and words of their expanded consciousness? In the words of the little red hen: “Not I.” Therefore, I borrow from poets of another time, let their beautiful words speak for me, as I sit slack-jawed in front of my computer screen.

A frequent stopping point in my Skippack walks is the covered bridge that leads to the parking lot by Hotel Fiesole, the subject of many a Skippack Blogger photo. But at this moment the winter sky is bright and bold and demands attention. I turn left and point my Sony Cybershot at the sun. She glows with pride in the cold sky. She understands her own power. I capture her in shining splendor, making shadows of Skippack’s gabled roofs.

There’s a certain slant of light,
On winter afternoons

Back home in front of my computer, I have my copy of the Collected Poems of Emily Dickinson in front of me. I find a quotation to match my photo:

There’s a certain slant of light,
On winter afternoons

To tell the truth, the photo was taken in late morning before the sun reached her midday summit, she is east of her zenith; but in our fast-paced, delightfully superficial digital age no one is going to observe the incongruity. I have captured my Skippack moment, blessed my village with the words of a great poet, and shared my vision with the world via Facebook.

Skippack in Snow

Like a child or lonely adult, the weather must sometimes make a bolder move to capture our attention. I like it best when there is a sudden snowfall during daylight hours. I grab my trusty Sony Cybershot and run outside. “I’ll be back in time for dinner,” I tell Mrs. Skippack Blogger.

Soon, I am walking in town, with a coat and ear muffs, but no gloves, I have taken them off so that I can snap photos is rapid succession. Before too long my fingers are numb, but I will not stop until I get that perfect photo that captures, like a haiku, the essence of a Skippack snowfall.

Snowfall in Skippack

The changing weather is my hearld. The snowfall has captured everyone’s attention. Cars driven by people anxious to get back home before conditions worsen fill our main street, Skippack Pike. Click, click, click, until I get the right shot. My fingers feel like they are frostbitten.

Then the photo. I post it immediately. Before long, more than a hundred people LIKE it. I have sent my love for Skippack out to the world and the world has answered.

I love being the Skippack Blogger.

Another view of snow falling in Skippack

My dad and I at a baseball game last year.

My dad, Bernie Shaw, will turn 90 years old this year. Choosing a gift is not going to be easy. For more years than I care to admit to, I have been buying birthday and Father’s Day gifts for dad; as we approach the venerable 90th what gift item is left that has not been given already?

How the Tie Came to Die

Countless ties have been purchased, wrapped, and handed over: I like bright colors and crazy designs. At one point, dad, who favors a more classic style in ties, said to me, “please don’t buy any more ties for me, Michael.”

The Great War Becomes a Bore

When Tom Brokaw’s book The Greatest Generation was a hot seller. my mom, brother, sister and I began focusing on items with a World War II theme; dad served as a bombardier in the Army Air Corp during the war, by luck narrowly avoiding some dangerous missions.

We bought dad history books and a CD with music of World War II and one with recordings of great speeches of the war. We bought him biographies of great leaders like Roosevelt and Truman. After several big-war-themed birthdays and Father’s Days, I learned that even the greatest moments in history cannot withstand bombardment from an endless barrage of increasingly predictable gifts; even the greatest heroes of a great generation can be eviscerated by too many trips to the shopping mall.

Other Gifts Not Up to Par

My father Bernie Shaw while serving as a bombardier in the U.S. Army Air Corp during the Second World War.

Dad does not play golf, and a shopping trip to a conventional mall (oh, how I feel for people who have not discovered Skippack) indicates that lack-of-golf-interest eliminates 90% of tchotchkes manufactured for men. He enjoys watching sports, but is not enough of a fan to justify purchase of sports memorabilia or clothing items that carry a team’s logo: Just don’t do justice to the man.

The problem with most material items we give as gifts, especially to our parents and other family members in golden years, is they are too simple to be symbols of our feelings as we mature. One hallmark of adult life, once we leave the parental nest, is that love becomes deeper and more complex and defies simple representation.

Forgiving and Kind, but Not Always Simple

For people lucky enough to be born into a good family, leaving the home of one’s parents and going out into the world can be akin to being expelled from the Garden of Eden. But while we think that being expelled from the Garden of Eden is a curse, it is possibly our greatest blessing. There must be weakness and failure, so that the people who love us can prove their commitment to us when we are weak and fail them; and so we can prove our commitment to the people we love, when they are weak and fail us. There must be wrongs and anger, if we are to develop the sacred mental discipline of forgiving. Only in our stumbling upon the stones and thorns of this earth and living with our own imperfection do we discover the power and potential of human love.

And for dad, it must be a gift of my own choosing: not something that he or mom asked me to buy. This gift must tell them that, while I love them, I am still carving out my unique, original path.

Perhaps the best gifts we give are parents and grandparents are the finger-paintings we bring home from kindergarten because they contain something of our very souls, but I am getting older now, and my finger-painting skills are rusty.

A tall order for a gift, to bear the meaning of my father’s 90th birthday. Fortunately, I live in Skippack.

Take One Lesson and Turn It Into A Gift

The sign in front of Miss Riddle’s Candy Shop during a snow storm the month before my father’s 90th birthday.

There are not words enough in a blog post or gifts enough in the world to express everything that I have learned from my father. But walking up and down main street in Skippack Village, as I passed the large pink and white striped sign for Miss Riddle’s Candy Shop, an idea began to formulate.

My father was born blessed with an innate happiness. Although raised in the deprivation of the great depression, he retains a remarkable capacity to enjoy life and partake of its pleasures, if always in a moderate and sensible way.

One way dad expresses his love for life is his love for chocolate. He has a chocolate dessert with nearly every meal, usually a chocolate flavor of ice cream like mint chocolate chip. He loves it; as well as coffee in the morning and a vodka martini every evening around 6:30 pm. If you ask Bernie Shaw the secret of staying healthy for 90 years, he will tell you: chocolate, caffeine, and alcohol. Luck doesn’t hurt either.

I think it was actually my wife Debby, Mrs. Skippack Blogger, who came up with the idea. But at once we both knew it was right: A gift basket filled with gourmet chocolate from Miss Riddle’s Candy Shop in Skippack (Like the Miss Riddle’s Facebook page).

In Skippack, the Experience Becomes Part of the Gift

Charlie king, co-owner of Miss Riddle’s Candy Shop in Skippack Village, with a basket of chocolates he prepared for my father’s birthday.

Debby and I knew at once that this was something my parents would never expect. Dad would understand the gift instinctively: Thank you for teaching me to savor the everyday sweetness of life.

But the meaning of the gift came as much from the process of buying it as it did from the object itself. We have long admired the shop owners, the husband and wife team of Charlie King and Aimee Rush, for the beautiful store environment they created and their friendly-yet-professional style.

Charlie came to the store special for us to create the basket. We delighted in making selections from the incredible variety of chocolates: dark chocolate, milk chocolate, truffles, Wilbur chocolate, 75% cacao, 85% cacao, familiar brands like Hershey and Cadbury and hard-to-find artisan chocolates made by hand. Charlie gathers our selection and lovingly assembles a gift basket. We add two beautiful blown-glass orange martini glasses in honor of dad’s nightly vodka martini.

The night of gift buying is as joyful as a birthday celebration, hanging out with Charlie and Aimee, their beautiful daughter Rose, and the customers who come into the store while our gift is lovingly prepared. The spirit of Skippack enters the gift basket and it is good enough for dad.

What is Written in the Card

Happy 90th Dad. Please enjoy the basket of chocolates from Miss Riddles Candy Shop in Skippack. And thank you for believing in me, my individuality, and my writing. You are still my dad. Love, Michael.

Chocolate for dad from Miss Riddle’s Candy Shop in Skippack: At 90 years old, life is still sweet.

The greatest gift: words of love and wisdom. My dad giving a talk to the family a few weeks before his 90th birthday. May my words be worthy.

Skippack Village, the first day of 2013

It is a gray winter day, cold and clear. My wife, Debby, AKA Mrs. Skippack Blogger, and I grab our coats and gloves and step outside. Within five minutes, we are walking in Skippack, an experience which remains inspiring and enchanting, even though we have taken this walk uncountable times since we moved here, now more than four years ago

It’s about 10:30 a.m. on New Year’s day, most shops and restaurants are closed. The cold air agrees to remain placid and gentle. Few people are on the street. A chance to see Skippack Village in the stillness of winter, before spring brings the hustle and bustle of events; Spring Fling, First Fridays, summertime concerts, the Skippack Car Show, and more.

Back Porch Cafe: The End, Followed by the Beginning

We approach the Back Porch Cafe, which has been closed for months. It is the perfect place to start the new year in Skippack, for the shut-down restaurant does not signify an end but a new beginning. The Back Porch Cafe will re-open in 2013, with new management. In fact, the restaurant will be brought back to life by our hard-working friend Deana, who owns and operates Mal’s American Diner, which we find consistently satisfying, with a varied menu, reasonable prices, and generous hours of operation.

The Back Porch Cafe in Skippack Village will re-open in 2013.

That is Skippack Village in nutshell; a town into which entrepreneurs and small business owners breathe new life, year after year.

Playcrafters Theater: Memory and Anticipation

Each landmark we pass hints at past and future: both a happy memory and something to which we can look forward.

For example, we walk past the corner of Skippack Pike and Store Road and see the large red barn that is home for Playcrafters of Skippack, our community theater. My imagination wanders to the magic of theater night in Skippack; walking with Debby to the barn theater, climbing the narrow staircase leading to the stage, seeing lights go up the moment a live performance is about to begin, and discovering talented performers from our local area. Even the chocolate chip cookies and coffee served as refreshments during intermission are special to me. Debby and I enjoyed many fine performances during the 2012 season. The 2013 season, which will begin in April, promises to be equally wonderful.

Hotel Fiesole: Enjoying the Past in the Present

I thought about you: Look closely and you will see the Skippack Blogger’s wife inside the trolley car at Hotel Fiesole.

We walk past Hotel Fiesole, a beautiful brick building, grand but not overwhelming, which features a trolley car incorporated into a side wall, preserving a bit of local history and providing additional space for dining tables.

Debby goes inside the large glass panel doors to the interior of the trolley car. She waves at me from the window. I take her picture as if she were a passenger on a departing train.

Shooting through the Trolley Car window produces a filmy, translucent image of Mrs. Skippack Blogger. Through photography, I capture the feeling of a melancholy memory; my beloved leaving on a train. I think of words to an old song:

Walking for leisure in Skippack frees my imagination to see song lyrics in everyday occurrences.

The Best Way to Merge the Past and Future: Over a Beer

The Skippack Web Guy, Brad DeForest (at left) with the Skippack Blogger toasting the New Year in 2013 at Hotel Fiesole in Skippack.

Last night, I was at the same hotel, drinking a beer with my pal Brad DeForest, who creates the web design and social media pages for I Love Skippack. Taking out his trusty iPad, Brad showed me his latest enhancements to the website. We talked about events of the year that is ending and potential directions for the year that begins now.

Brad, the Skippack Web Guy, provides the polish and wherewithal needed to take the my writing and our message about our love for Skippack to an expanding audience. How incredibly lucky that, starting out with so few resources, I have the good fortune to join forces with a professional with so much talent and ability. But our far greater accomplishment is, as Brad puts it, “we are still having fun.”

Let’s drink to 2013 my friend.

The Cabana Bar Takes a Break

Debby and I now pass the Cabana Bar, sheltered now from winter by thick sheets of plastic on all sides. I look forward to spring when the plastic will be taken down. People, young and more middle-aged, singles and couples, will come for drinks and conversation and fill up the Cabana bar. They will be joined by families, who will take outdoor tables at the adjoining Basta Pasta. Performers like my friend Gabe Schick AKA the Tune Dude, Dr. Ben Grisafi of Dr. Ben’s Backbone Blues Band, and popular folk-hipsters, the WhiskeyHickon Boys will provide entertainment. The musical notes will blend with laughter and the coming and going of good people to form a pulse of vibrant activity in the heart of Skippack Village.

The Cabana Bar in Skippack Village: Resting for the winter

The Best Way to Finish: Breakfast at Mal’s

Our walk continues. The Parc Bistro is on the other side of the street; like Hotel Fiesole, an impressive building, it balances the Skippack landscape. The Parc Bistro is one of the village’s most highly rated restaurants. What special occasion in 2013 will justify a visit?

We approach the angel which sits in front of the water wheel at Amelia’s Accents gift shop. I hope the angel will bless Debby and myself for a happy and healthy new year, and you, my dear reader, as well.

Soon, we come to the field which is home to the Farmer’s Market of Skippack and Love Hot Dog Company. How joyful this empty field becomes through association with people such as Jason Brown, the big guy with the big heart, who serves exotic gourmet sandwiches as well as more pedestrian burgers and dogs for lunch weekdays throughout the winter.

Across the street is La Villa Mexican Grille. Last fall, we sat up at night with executive chef and owner Rene Zepeda. He described his dream to build an outdoor patio bar. Since then, he has obtained his liquor license and now serves beer, wine and mixed drinks, including outrageously delicious Margaritas. We look forward to hanging out at Rene’s patio bar come spring.

As we get closer to WaWa, at the intersection of Skippack Pike and Bridge Road, we turn around, back into village, back to Mal’s American Diner for breakfast.

As long as I live in Skippack, I will be a millionaire, for I have all this in my backyard.

Happy 2013.

The angel that sits by the water wheel outside Amelia’s Accents gift shop: May the angel bless us for a good year.