We knew something cool was going to happen before we even stepped into Fat Lenny’s. We knew it because it was called Fat Lenny’s, but also because of the life-sized human-cat mannequin.
Pennsylvania loves its war heroes, but only one of them had his bones boiled for transport: Mad Anthony Wayne.
It was hot and the air was thick with storms circling Erie, so we had left the choice to the 3-year-old: the children’s museum or the spooky woods. We’ll go to the museum next time.
“He’s going in!” I said, scrambling down the snowbank. It was filthy, nearly one storey high, and I’d been up there taking pictures of the old Plaza Theatre.
Now, I love a good diner at the best of times, so imagine my relief when, at one of my worst times (this whole parenting thing is really hard, you know), I stumbled upon this snapshot of diner life lovingly sculpted by dollmaker Lisa Lichtenfels.
To get to the gun raffle, one drives past the cemetery, through the trailer park and into the abandoned amusement park. It’s hard to find parking—is every pickup in Pennsylvania here?