Text 27528, 69 rader
Skriven 2015-05-29 04:06:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: Jersey Shore 739
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Annie wanted to go to Jersey Shore, half an hour west, to
visit her parents' graves; traditionally Robby would join
her, but he's gotten a little weird lately and doesn't do
the things he used to do, so I was the substitute. It's a
very pretty cemetery, nicely landscaped, with some impressive
monuments including an obelisk that had once stood at the
State House; it is really tall and really bulky and how
they could have gotten it all the way here from Harrisburg
in the 19th century is an amazement.

She was going to take me to lunch in State College, but the
turnoff to the highway was closed, and she didn't know how
to do the back roads, so we retraced our steps back to the
Crippled Bear on the outskirts of Williamsport.

Since I was last here the owner died, and his widow sold
the place to the (woman) bartender. I was curious to see
if corners were cut and quality down the tube, the way
things often go when a strong quality-driven proprietor
goes away. I'm pleased to say that food and value remain
quite decent.

Annie got an Italian grinder (apparently the same as a
sub, only toasted); pretty big and apparently good. I
had the grizzy [sic] prime rib sandwich - the old menu
called it the grizzley prime rib sandwich, so someone
must have fixed it sort of for the new one. This was 6 oz
of actual (machine-thin-sliced) rarish roast beef with
grilled onions and peppers, a couple slices of crisp almost
hard bacon, a slice of aged cheddar, and - this almost
ruined it, as with the "pier"-ogies at Pier 87 - lots of
barbecue sauce. A standard bun, sort of squishy and
insignificant.

A big pitcher of beer is $7.50; a small is $3.50. That
works out to about 12.5c vs. 12c an ounce, something to
which I had not tumbled to until just now. We had one of
each.

Some crazed-looking guy at the bar kept looking at us in
a threatening or threatened way. We didn't respond, of
course, though I'd be lying if I said I didn't pay
attention.

After lunch, Annie again wanted ice cream, so as we were
going right past it, we ducked in to Sunset Ice Cream,
which though exactly 50 years younger than Eder's, is
equally a tradition. Used to be there was this old guy
making the stuff and selling it at somebody else's
parlor, and then he retired and gave up the business,
and then this young energetic couple bought the name,
opened a parlor of their own, and got the guy to teach
them how to make ice cream; and then they managed to
convince him to come out of retirement altogether and
work for them.

In line we met a 90-year-old woman and her daughter and
engaged them in small chitchat. Annie, who was in a 
hilarious mood at the time, bought them ice cream (they
both had peanut butter). I got a small dish of the cotton
candy because it was blue, and we all sat in a booth
together and talked up a storm, Turns out they all knew
people in common, and they regaled each other with gossip
from 20, 40, 60 years ago. The daughter Carol and Annie
promised to stay in touch.

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