This letter had laid on my desk for a few years buried in the mess - I mean lost among all the important documents I've amassed.

Every winter for quite a few years each time I cross the bridge I get angry when I see some clown has colored the ice and each year the Bozo's make the front page for doing it.

To me it's nothing more than graffiti. The good thing is, it does not last and hurts no one other than raising my blood pressure.

If the clowns would wait they'd see that Mother Nature colors it herself with shades of blue and green. I think the natural beauty is much better, but then again, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Anyhow that's my opinion of the whole subject but you know what opinions are like. Everybody has one and everyone thinks the other guys stinks. After writing this, as I always do, I give it to my son to read and see what he thought of it. He said, "Dad, you sound like a grumpy old man. Heck, we used to color the ice all the time."

Go figure! So I guess that makes me either the "Father of a Clown" or the "Sire of a Bozo"!!

A Native Chunker

Peter Bott

East Mauch Chunk