The New York Times, which is to responsible journalism as chewing bubble gum is to preventing pregnancys, has bad mouthed a small rural town in Pennsylvania. What makes it more interesting is that it is where I live.
Although Tamaqua is only an hour northwest of Allentown, it might as well be in another country in another time. On the first day of school, as I drive up Route 309 over Blue Mountain, the car engine strains to make the steep grade, then my cellphone cuts out. On the edge of town, I see a worn sign that says "Coal for Sale" that must be 30 years old. Abandoned strip mines surround and define both the town and the people, who look flinty, dust-covered, squinteyed.
I guess to her we look like that banjo playing kid in Deliverance.
Here is some un-biased info on Tamaqua.
The writer didn't go there with a very nice attitude in the first place. I agree with the one student when he asked, "who do you think you are?"
Posted by: Wickwire at April 6, 2006 03:22 PM
