a glimpse: anna machmer, born 1919.

normally, i post just a long excerpt and not a complete poem in sharing these samplings from the project (as a way to make the actual books more want-worthy). but in the case of anna machmer, leaving out the ending online just seems like it'd be remiss due to how special her contribution of memories is in the second volume of this poetry. born in 1919, she grew up in berks county but moved to virginia a long time ago, and her son subscribing to the historical review of berks county is how their family heard about this project. before 2016, no one who resides outside of berks county was a part of the poems. so anna is special in this way, as is another woman in chester county (not far from berks county) whose poem will be shared in october.

ron machmer kindly offered photographs of his mother, historic and new.

*

( anna & her future husband, wellington machmer, at berkshire knitting mills 
where they were a part of preparing silk stockings to seal up and ship out )

*

anna machmer, franconia, fairfax county, virginia | born: 1919

i grew up on pear street in the city of reading, right near 

the railroad tracks. we’d sit on the pavement and watch 

the trains, counting them as they went by—my brothers,

sisters—jake, henry, mary, theresa, julie. sometimes we’d

catch sight of maybe 100 train cars in a 20-minute span.

when our mom told us to get an ice block, we’d crawl under

the parked rail cars with tongs, hunting for heavy, frozen

water. by the time i turned 16 and quit school, i spent my

mornings at berkshire knitting mills waiting for them to call

my name, the incentive to show up again and again in such

early hours of a new shift. by 1936, they voiced anna kuhn,

hired me. i earned $17 a week back then. my mom let me keep

$1 of it. it went a long way in those days. i worked in the box

department on the second floor, used an upright stamping

machine, pressing my foot down onto the pedal below so that 

an imprint came down. it inked size and color notes. on one

occasion, the machine slammed onto my right pointer finger

instead of a box. i didn’t tell anyone, didn’t scream or cry. it

hurt fiercely, but i didn’t want to fuss. the small history-spot

of blur stained the skin of my finger until just a few years ago.

it’s hard to believe that reminder finally left my hand. i ate my

paper bagged lunch alone by the lockers to have a little silence

away from thunderous machines. by 1937, i met wellington,

an intellectual fellow, smart for a farm boy, the valedictorian

of his class in wernersville. i smiled easily at him every day 

at the berky and saw him at night, too, once we started dating.

sometimes he had to gather his family’s ripe, fresh produce

in evenings, though. after we married, we never ate chicken 

in our house because he didn’t want any sight of it. cleaning

them, pulling and plucking out their feathers took too heavy

a toll on his gut, so we ate anything but that poultry. at work,

we had lunch in his car. he bought a new one each year, dodge

or plymouth. during a strike, since i thought, i gotta work—i

can’t lose my job, a brick,   rock,   or   something hard crashed 

           through my front window, payback for crossing the line.

                     the berky’s management paid to replace

that glass. by 1946, we traveled south, became new virginians.

volume two-- copies are now available for purchase !

copies of volume two of the labors of our fingertips: poems from manufacturing history in berks county are finally here. tahhh dahhh !

all poem-sources for the second year of the project will receive free copies of the book, as will all historical societies in berks county. and all berks county libraries which confirm that they'd like free copies will receive them as well.

copies of volume two from this project are also for sale in the community for $20.00 each. orders can be placed by phone (610.401.3392) or email (thelaborsofourfingertips at yahoo dot com) and paid by check or cash at a poetry reading or by snail-mail. copies can also be ordered by donating to the gofundme campaign of the project at www.gofundme.com/berkscountypoems. be sure to include your name and mailing address for copies to be sent via snail-mail.

a small number of volume one's books are still available for purchase as well.

all volumes for the duration of this project are being handled by foothills publishing. they do wonderful work, to say the least, and their hand-stitched binding is very in line with the entire theme of this project.

this project is funded in part by the pennsylvania council on the arts and the berks arts council. without their support, none of this would be possible, so gracious thank you language is aimed in the direction of these incredibly valuable nonprofits.

and here are a few more eye-scenes from this latest volume.

a glimpse: leroy fretz, born 1920.

born in 1920, leroy fretz has one of the first more gruesome poems in the second year of the labors of our fingertips: poems from manufacturing history in berks county, but these aspects are tied to his time in the military, not his manufacturing work. he lives in providence house in the city of reading and loves to do coloring of beautiful prints and designs, and some are even taped up onto the door of his apartment.

below is an excerpt of his poem from this project.

*

the business started in 1890 and is still going, glen-gery. 

a neighbor of my aunt told me to try to get a job there after i 

came back from world war ii. i’d grown up in longswamp 

township, and our family moved to fleetwood by the time

i turned four. a few guys and i walked into the national 

guard office together, in town, joining 

a veterinary company. we waited for tanks, 

pulled horse-drawn artillery. after the vet 

showed us what grows quiet under skin

and marrow when a horse dies, one crazy fellow leaned down,

began chewing its still open wounds, blood all over his mouth,

in his teeth. once we finally had equipment, we were chasing 

the germans out of north africa, all the way to italy. they knew 

they were under-supplied and surrendered. my life calculated 

in bricks is the other bigger story. at one 

point, glen-gery had 21 beehive kilns. it 

might have taken 10 days to heat and cool 

the bricks, i’d guess, once they were made. 

we’d stack bricks high on piles, lifting them from filled 

wheelbarrows below us. we’d even plant our feet down 

on the handles of those wheelbarrows until the piles didn’t 

keep the weight even enough. so our hands wouldn’t swell 

of a light burn from the rough feel of bricks, we cut slits 

into the inner tubes of old tires, crafted 

them as mitts, and used them to grip 

what we carried. once they tore down 

those old beehive kilns, a new continuous 

kiln took the reins. it stretched longer than the hallway 

outside of my apartment. forklifts helped by then, too...

*

a glimpse: esther rolland, born 1930.

born in 1930, esther rolland had embroidered ladybugs on her khaki pants when i stopped in to see her a few weeks ago where she lives at country meadows in wyomissing, not far from the penn state berks campus. she told me that she joked with a woman there to not worry because they don't bite. the ladybugs. i love when humor sneaks out in this way.

below is an excerpt from her poem from the upcoming second volume in the labors of our fingertips: poems from manufacturing history of berks county.

*

a seamer—that’s what they called people like me at the burkey 

underwear company in hamburg. since they made stockings, 

too, they had a little shop there. some stockings were black,

fancy, pretty. people would line up at the door to buy them, 

once they opened the storefront. two-piece knitted dresses

were for sale as well. but with the stockings, in some cases, 

the seams ran up the front of the leg, too, not just in the back, 

against the calf and thigh. if you had your work done right, 

it was perfect. the boss at that mill, i didn’t like him, the way 

he treated people—he had a nasty demeanor about him, and 

                                                         the workers didn’t deserve that. 

void of much in the way of manners, he didn’t impress me. 

an older woman, also a seamer, noticed me mid-walk en route 

to the bathroom and said, she’s pregnant—she’s pregnant. 

i wasn’t. those seamers picked on people. i let them talk. 

there’s always somebody who thinks she’s better than you,

in this world. eventually, i did have a baby in me, but i didn’t 

tell them my rounding-belly news until my eventual goodbye.

*

a poetry reading at the oley valley community library-- saturday, september 17 @ 1 p.m.

the oley valley community library, a very literally independent library in berks county, is hosting a poetry reading for this project on saturday, september 17 @ 1 p.m. that's also the same time as the oley valley community fair. so anyone who wants to attend the fair can visit before or after this reading, as a nice way to make use of being in the area.

special guests for this reading will be donald gilbert of earl township who served as a head colorist at bally ribbon mills for several decades, as well as john groff, also of earl township, who worked at the windmill cheese co. in oley, in addition to several other jobs in berks county during his lifetime. long excerpts from their poems will be shared on this blog and the facebook page for the project into the next few weeks. they are pictured below.

the oley valley community library operates fully on its own and is not a part of the countywide library system where it is located. this means it stays in the community through donations and book sale fundraisers. because of this, donations of money are greatly appreciated by the librarian and her volunteers. please consider bringing a donation along to the reading, if you plan to attend.

if you can attend the reading, since there is somewhat limited seating, please RSVP to thelaborsofourfingertips at yahoo dot com or 610.401.3392.

volume two of this poetry project is just around the proverbial corner.

here is the cover for the upcoming second volume in this poetry project.

you'll be seeing copies of it finally available in the next few weeks.

a second annual poetry reading with berks bards at goggleworks in the city of reading.

at berks bards' first thursday poetry open mic at goggleworks in the city of reading, where this project stood as the main feature before the second half of the night, we had about 20 people in attendance, including ed jastrzembski from the latest upcoming volume and linda steffy from the first collection of poems. since steffy has such a memorable story, audiences of new people always enjoy taking in her recollections.

thank you graciously to nancy hemberger for assisting with photography at this reading.

below is a long excerpt from jastrzembski's poem. he visited to be the main guest from this year's selection of poems, along with his family. born in 1939, he resides in bern township.

*

i picked up my welding skills in the u.s. navy during peace

time, not an era of war. we’d been in japan, singapore, hong 

kong, and india, crew members for aircraft carriers in sky. 

then back at home, my eyes skimmed the newspaper, an ad

for a job. reading bodies interviewed me, gave me a welding 

test. i passed. i started maybe in 1961. by day, i made a home

in the body shop in special divisions where we fabricated

parts for utility bodies like ambulances, fire rescue trucks.

shelving doors, floors—we welded what was needed. in 1967,

i quit to take a job at cartech on bern street at the edge

of the city of reading, not far from the schuylkill river.

the tiniest and most massive heaps of metal out in our

world often come from the heat and bending of carpenter

steel. the tools a dentist uses on your teeth, seatbelt latches,

filaments in headlights of cars, the silver shine of fuel 

injectors, oneida’s forks and spoons, the lunar module, 

landing gear on f/a-18 hornets—one had its first flight 

in 1978. with my wife’s two knee replacements, chances are 

that titanium or stainless steel built into her is from cartech. 

i went into what they called the labor gang, bidding on jobs 

in different departments until they finally hired me as 

a ladleman in the melt shop. that ladle hung from a huge 

overhead crane. i poured into rounded molds in succession. 

about 35 tons of molten steel sat waiting. i did cold-rolling

for three years. at the #4 mill next to route 12, i rolled wire.

*