Pundits now tell us that because of our arcane Electoral college, sophisticated polling and predicting, the fate of America and the Free World, rests on your sturdy Pennsylvanian shoulders. Because of the ridiculous tightness of the race, they say, the candidate who captures PA, will also capture the presidency.
If my preferred candidate also held a townhall and then proceeded to dance and sway with the music, like he was at some Jeffrey Epstein Freak Off, I might be able to understand why it's close. But she hasn't. And moreover she can find your lovely state on a map and name at least a dozen cities therein.
The other guy is still clinging to Person, Woman, Man, Camera, TV.
My first experience with your fine state came about in 1970, when my family lived in Suffern NY, an hour's drive from Port Jervis where the mountainous tri-states meet.
One summer, my father packed my brother and I in the car and said we were going camping. His childhood friend, Herman, a car dealer from Asbury Park, had private access to a secluded campground in Shohola, right off one of the slow moving tributaries to the Delaware river.
This was deep in the woods and greener than anything this Bronx born boy had ever seen. By day we floated down the stream on rafts. And in the darkness we slept in sleeping bags carefully sewn into screened-in hammocks hung on nearby birch trees.
It was love at first night.
Years later, My father, also smitten, arranged for a family vacation in Amish Country. Or maybe because it was nearby, aka not expensive.
We tittered and giggled as we passed roads signs for Intercourse, PA, which is surprisingly close to another interesting Keystone township...
