AMUSEMENT PARKS, KNOEBELS, THRILLS AND LIFE CHANGE.

10 07 2026

PASTOR RUDY SHEPTOCK SOUL MINING JUNE 26 2026

Who remembers these lyrics from the classic song written by of all people, Chuck Barris who was the host of TV’s “The Gong Show?” Freddy “Boom Boom” Cannon sang, “Last night I took a walk after dark, a swinging place called “Palisades Park,” to have some fun and see what I could see-
that’s where the girls are!?” Not only did we sing that song, but I am also one of the many who remember actually going to the amusement park that made its home on the Jersey side of the cliff overlooking the George Washington Bridge. The commercial that invited us to, “Come on Over,” was sung over and over again on both radio and television back in the 60’s. This unique wonderland boasted of hosting the world’s largest outdoor saltwater pool and on a weekend, you could meet 77WABC’s most popular disc jockey Cousin Brucie Morrow decked out in his personal leopard skin jacket welcoming all the pop artists of the day lip synching their latest hits! My sisters even entered the “Little Miss America,” pageant held there every year. They never won but it meant another day at the rides for the Sheptock family.

Going, “on the rides,” was how we labeled a day at the local amusement parks. It was also the way our parents bribed us to stay quiet and behave during Sunday mass. If we were good in church, which wasn’t always the case, then afterwards we would head up Route 46 to Wetson’s Burgers for lunch and Kiddie Land afterwards. It featured miniature versions of the whip, roller coaster, and Ferris wheel but we thought it was big time. Also, in the neighborhood was O’Dowds Dairy which meant ice cream cones, and the Pinebrook Auction where I would help my parents pick out new records for our hi-fi stereo at home. While I owned a few Beatles albums, I still had to compromise with their tastes, so it usually meant more Al Martino and Gene Pitney! I knew all the words of every song on Al Martino’s Spanish Eyes LP.

Another local gem was Bertrand’s Island which made its home on the far side of Lake Hopatcong. It was there we graduated to the bigger rides although that roller coaster seemed to be the biggest thing I had ever witnessed up until that time. We would swim during the day and then change in the car to go, “on the rides,” at night. Nickle night was Tuesday and Thursday so you can bet that most of those outings occurred on those two days of the week. Like Palisades Park, Bertrand’s Island went the way of the dinosaurs by the 70’s. Six Flags Great Adventure wiped places like that out although my memories will always be strong.  We did go “on the rides” when we went “down the shore,” after a day in the ocean. Growing up, my parents would take us to Asbury Park but as teens, we ventured a little further down the parkway to Seaside Heights. Who could have guessed that from 1997 until I moved here to Shamokin in 2021, Cape May County would be home complete with our choices of Wildwood and Ocean City only a few miles from our house. I told my children more times than once that other people are paying big bucks to do what we do on a regular basis right in our own backyard.

I share this because earlier this week, I took my daughter Leah, her husband Jeff and their three beautiful girls to Knoebels for a day of going “on the rides.” Once again, living ten minutes from a great outing that doesn’t cost a fortune is something I don’t take for granted. Most of my family will not go on roller coasters. When my wife and I were dating, we almost broke up at Hershey Park because Terri literally only went on the merry go round. She made me go on all the rides with her dad and while I loved my future father-in-law, sitting next to him wasn’t my idea of romance. I have four children and only Leah goes on roller coasters, so I knew this was my chance to ride the Phoenix and Twister. What a pleasant surprise to Pop-Pop when I learned that my 9-year-old granddaughter Lucia also went on coasters. Needless to say, I did some shaking, rattling and rolling but it was well worth it. We all had a great day and made some sweet memories and made sure that we had ice cream. I love getting the peanut butter Sunday with the raspberry soft serve because it tastes like peanut butter and jelly. There will be more days this summer that I will be going back to Knoebels for the shows and some ice cream. If you are looking for someone to ride one of the coasters with, give me a call. I am a very cheap date. I’m all about leaning forward for the maximum splash! And as for keeping my arms and legs in the boat, sometimes they wander.

I have always thought that life is lots like amusement parks. Many people can’t go because they suffer from motion sickness, so it robs them of much joy and thrills that come when we willingly put ourselves in some ridiculous positions. I have always gotten a kick out of, “The Rotor” which operates like the inside of a giant washing machine. The centrifugal force slams the human bodies smack against the wall while everything else is suspended in midair until it’s over. You can actually throw up and it will stay there until it ends. Then it gets ugly quick! But we do these things because life can get boring without a little added entertainment.     

Let’s face facts, we all could use some dynamic excursions filled with unpredictable twists and turns, exhilarating highs, terrifying drops, and moments of who knows what comes next. It reminds me life will never fit in a nice and neat ordered box. We will slowly go up an incline and before we can catch our breath, scream with ecstasy as we are speeding down a mountain track that jerks us up and down and all around and just when we think it’s over, we are tossed and turned for one more surprise landing. But it is not life and death. It is just a ride. It is just a means to remind us that humanity needs some excitement now and then.  

If life is only about allowing pleasant, non-emotional experiences without having to engage in the real world, where you have no clue what might be on the other side, it can feel forgettable and impractical and dare I say, even boring. But if life means that anything can happen even when you least expect it, then we should be alert and wide awake and ready for action. Life is not just about enjoying watching other people experience the unbelievable,  it’s about you and I being willing to step onto the ride. Growth happens when we trust God even in fear, and when we act on His promises even when we are being thrown around like a pin ball in an arcade game.  

Shouldn’t our walk with Jesus be called, “A Great Adventure?” I know there have been times when my heart survived more than one “Twister” and while my “Impulse,” might have been to seek the “Kiddie Boats,” I needed to trust the captain of my “Galleon,” to survive. Like a “Phoenix,” we will rise from the ashes to grab our seat on the “Giant Wheel,” which will take us to the “Scenic Skyway” in Heaven. Fasten your seatbelts and grab that safety bar because you never know when your path will take you right into a “Skloosh!” And what’s the worst that can happen? Once we get to the “StratosFear,” we will finally see things as they really are.

In summary, faith is like an amusement park–both safe and scary. It can be a place where all your senses get a workout. You can be the designated water bottle holder, or you can face your fear and close your eyes and wave your hands in the air like you don’t care! There is still so much to explore because when you open your eyes, you see the attractions of truth and love, community and fun and when it is time to leave the park, you are not just entertained but changed for good! Thanks, Knoebels for 100 years of making life a more exciting place to dwell.





REFLECTIONS ON AMERICA 250

4 07 2026
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PASTOR RUDY SHEPTOCK/SOUL MINING JULY 3RD

The last time the United States celebrated a birthday of significance was the bicentennial of 1976. I was 17 years old and had my whole life standing before me on my doorstep. I still had my hair which at the time was feathered back so all I had to do was brush it in the middle and every precious curly lock fell beautifully into place. Little did I know how much I would miss needing a comb all these years later! During that summer, I was driving my 1972 Chevy Nova and had pride in my ride. I adored that car because what I didn’t possess in muscle, it made up for and more. Sure, it had a big piece of plywood under the gas and brake pedal because of rust, but it didn’t matter. This car was mine and I cherished it maybe just a bit more than the girl I happened to be dating that summer. I was already working maintenance for the Mountain Lakes school system so I could afford 60 cents a gallon that it cost for a gallon of gas. I made sure that I got down the shore as much as possible then, flying down the Garden State Parkway with a cup full of quarters to pay the toll. It was true freedom to be able to go to Seaside Heights without my parents in tow.

1976 prices themselves would cause us to want to return to the time when it only cost 13 cents to mail a letter. Remember, there was no internet or cell phone, so emails and texting were still years in the future and if you wanted to connect with someone in a romantic way, snail mail was our only option. Yes, I know our rotary telephone was available, but if you grew up in a big family like me, privacy was something one could only dream about. It also cost less than 2 bucks for a movie ticket and that was during prime time. No VHS, DVD, streaming services or cable had been offered to the public yet, so you had to settle for what was on the 6 channels our television provided as daily entertainment or get out to the local movie house. Don’t worry though, John Wayne in “The Shootist,” was running at the box office and a new baseball film called, “The Bad News Bears,” made its debut. I personally knew one of the kids in that movie because he was in our youth group and my sister dated him. Come to think of it, my sister seemed to date everyone back then. Later in the year, the first Rocky with Sylvester Stallone made us all cheer the underdog and punch everything in sight as we left the theaters. In 2026, and God only knows how many installments of Balboa and Creed later, we are still scrambling up the Philadelphia Art Museum steps albeit a bit slower and much more carefully than we did the first time. I always thought it was cool living so close to Philly in such monumental times of American history.

As usual, I was totally in tune with what was playing on our transistor radios on July 4th, 1976. Every time I hear “Love is Alive” by Gary Wright, I still literally feel the heat of that summer sun in my brain, and I am back soaking up the rays under the guise of doing yard work at our house in Peapack, New Jersey. Disco was coming into its own with dance selections like “I’ll Be Good to You,” by the Brothers Johnson at number 8, “Get Up and Boogie,” by the Silver Convention at number 7 and “More, More, More,” by the Andrea True Connection at number 6. The one hit wonder, “Afternoon Delight,” by the Starlight Vocal Band was moving up to number 2 but as ironic as it could be, it was the British Beatle Paul McCartney who held down the top spot with “Silly Love Songs.” I still don’t think this world has reached its fill of silly love songs and there is nothing wrong with that. And how cool is it that Paul McCartney, Bruce Springsteen, James Taylor and Barry Manilow are still producing new music and touring 50 years later? In 1976, I couldn’t even imagine artists in their 70’s and 80’s packing out arenas. I thought being 30 was ancient then and looking at us now in our own late 60’s still rocking and rolling while we shake and rattle all the way to the doctor’s office.

While America was celebrating its 200th birthday, Gerald Ford was president by assignment and the campaigning to see who would be next was in full swing. The Georgia Peanut Farmer named Jimmy Carter would surprise many of us when he took over the White House in January of 1977. And while we all like to make the good old days much better than they really were, our country was still reeling from the aftermath of the Vietnam War. We were still very aware of the potential disaster of nuclear destruction. Civil Rights continued to cause division and violence. And our over dependence upon oil from the Middle East made the energy ordeal a real crisis. In just three short years, Three-Mile Island would put this area of Pennsylvania on the national radar and daily survival became a buzz word for all of us.   

I make no apology that I am not a fan of where we are as a nation here in 2026. The technological advances we have made, while impressive, have not brought us closer together or made us stronger as we live now amidst a barrage of daily information coming at us in lightning speed from all different vehicles of social media and nobody knows what is true and what is false. The lines of moral absolutes continue to become overly subjective with the necessary borders of accountability and checks and balances vanishing from the playing field. Just because someone of fame and notoriety states something doesn’t make it true. And one can’t just ignore or disregard historical  facts that have survived generation after generation just because it doesn’t fit one’s taste or pleasure. Are we as a people smarter when we allow others to make major decisions for us? I know homework has never been very popular, but what is the hope of a people who no longer invest the time to make sure they not only know what they believe but why they believe it also. Can you give a valid reason for the convictions you hold dearly that hold more weight than today’s popular opinion poll? And have we abandoned the art of listening because we are so determined to ram our own opinions down somebody else’s throat?

As I write this, the temperatures outside have reached three-digit numbers. I am a child of winter. I do not do well when the hazy hot and humid descriptions headline Cecily Tynan’s weather forecast. But my daughter Leah lives for the heat and the hotter it gets, the happier she becomes. Who is right? Do you see what I am saying? What happened to real diversity and not one where it is forced that if you don’t bow to the party line, you are flat out wrong! If there are 28 flavors of ice cream, please pick your favorite and let somebody else like their choice. Not every decision is black and white. Orange and blue are good choices for colors also. But when it comes to “the truths that are self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights that among them are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness,” if we don’t have a sure foundation then it won’t be long before everyone just does what is right in their own eyes and that leads to the chaotic spirit we are drifting in today.

If I had my way, which I don’t but it doesn’t stop me from dreaming or praying, I would long for everyone to believe that they are not a creature of happenstance but are fearfully and wonderfully designed by a God who loves them and has a unique purpose for their existence. I would want us all to fight for every life, every color, every background, every flavor, every man and woman, boy and girl, born and yet to be born until there is no life to battle for anymore. No human being should be able to decide who has worth and who doesn’t. Will we ever learn from history’s mistakes? Or will we walk blindly and deafly down the same road of hatred and persecution of certain peoples all over again? Finally, I wish we would all just take the time these next few days and revisit June 6th, 1944. Those men who were let out of those transports that morning to fight upon the Normandy Beaches that day sacrificed their everything so that Nazism and Tyranny would not be allowed to run rampant and trample all that is good upon God’s earth. I don’t want to waste their greatest gift of life because I was too busy just trying to have a good time. America is at its best when we are united in fighting for all life and protecting liberty and justice for all. Happy Birthday America! Let Freedom Continue to Ring because we refused to take it for granted!        






ITS ANOTHER OPENING DAY OF BASEBALL!

28 03 2025

RUDY SHEPTOCK MARCH 28 2025

Is there any day as close to perfect as Major League Baseball’s Opening Day? As far back as I can remember, I would have to come up with annual bouts of some type of rare illness to get out of going to school so I wouldn’t miss the fanfare and pageantry. And most of these recollections only occur in glorious black and white! Having attended my first professional contest at Shea Stadum in Flushing, Queens on the final day of the 1968 season, I couldn’t wait for the start of the 1969 campaign. The Mets were hosting the brand-new expansion Montreal Expos in their inaugural game so how could my team blow this one? Miraculously, my sore throat disappeared by 1:10 p.m. and I was shouting, “Lets Go Mets,” so loud, I’m sure Sister Cecilia heard it just down the road. My forever hero, Tom Seaver, was on the mound and when he was taken out for the bullpen, he was up 6-4. Up until then, the Mets had never won on opening day, but the fortune had to change. I was even praying for forgiveness and making deals with God to do anything to tilt the scale in the direction of the orange and blue.

By the top of the ninth inning, the Mets were losing 11-6. The bullpen wasn’t very good at closing out victories in the late 1960’s any more than they can be relied upon to seal the deal in 2025. But I was nine years old, and I believed in comebacks and Santa and that my Dad could walk on water. My father got home from work just in time to fix this embarrassing display. I filled him in on everything he missed because while I wasn’t very good at math, I was a wiz at keeping score of the ballgames. After Kenny Boswell struck out looking, Cleon Jones singled to left off former Mets southpaw, Don Shaw. Ed Charles who we called “The Glider,” followed with a walk. Al Weis popped out to shallow right, but it took three outs to win the old ballgame. Jerry Grote, the Mets catcher and the first player who ever signed a personal autograph for me singled and Jones scored, making it 11-7. Duffy Dyer was sent up to pinch hit and he proceeded to hit a home run. I thought we had tied the game but Dad pointing out my addition was something less than desired, proceeded to poke a pin into my balloon by sharing that the Mets were still behind by a run. It was only 11-10 and the Expos were still winning. I cried out quickly, “No problem, Dad, Amos Otis is up and he is a power threat,” Amos Otis singled and Tommie Agee walked and then the worst that could happen, actually did. Rod Gaspar took strike one. Rod Gaspar took strike two. Rod Gaspar swung and missed for strike three. Now I really felt sick. I don’t think I even ate supper that night, that’s how downtrodden I was.

But as history would prove, these weren’t the same old Mets. These “Amazing Mets,” would win 100 games that season and become the 1969 World Champions even at the 100-1 odds set for them. It was the “Summer of Man Walking on The Moon in July. It was the summer of “Woodstock” in August. But for me, it will forever be the best year a kid who loves baseball could ever experience. On the actual weekend that everyone was buzzing upstate to Max Yasgur’s New York Farm, Dad and I were at Shea Stadium for what was known as “Banner Day.” During the break in between the doubleheader, we fans could walk on the field parading the artistry of kiddom by stealing Mom’s bedsheets and painting them with slogans like, “Even Though We’re in The Red. The New York Mets Are Far from Dead. So come on Mets and Get Ignited. And Get Us Mets Fans So Excited!” Maybe my poetry ability was right up there with my arithmetic skills. But I cherish those times as some of the best moments that I ever experienced. Dad was alive and well. As a child, my whole world revolved around playing baseball, watching baseball and dreaming about baseball. I used to sleep with my Gogel Tires Little League uniform on and it was made of itchy wool! That Miracle Mets team will always be my team and my favorite players ever because they helped a kid who was always a bit of a dreamer learn that going for the impossible is actually the right stuff! It’s the stuff that lasts long after the last out has been made and the last person has vacated the premises.

I just got off facetime with my daughter Abbie. What was she showing me? My twin grandsons were playing together in the back yard with the wiffle ball set they just received for their birthday. Levi is a Phillies fan like his Daddy, John. Benji is a Mets fan like his Pop-Pop. Baseball continues to be a key ingredient in defining our legacy. I coached all my kids from T-ball through high school level softball and baseball. I still love to go and watch the Shamokin Games. I just asked Felicia who is a power threat from the left side of the plate when her next game is. Baseball has never been boring for me. There are so many facets and nuances that must be addressed when it comes to performing well as a team out there on the local diamond. The Commissioner of MLB, Rob Manfred, has single handedly tried to ruin the sport with time clocks and ghost runners. One of the best aspects of this contest was that there were no time limits other than the sun going down and no lights to turn on. How many of us can remember holding on to that last slice of sunlight to keep on playing? One more pitch! One more bat! One more swing! Isn’t that what we all yearn for anyway?

Hope springs eternal on Opening Day! Everyone is in first place. Everyone has a chance to be the champions. All the uniforms are crisp and shining, all the batting statistics and earned run averages are perfect. It may be sunny in San Diego or snowing in Cleveland. It may be the Los Angeles Dodgers or the Omaha Storm Chasers. It may be a 700-million-dollar pitcher or a five year old bonus baby, but for a moment, it is all new. I remember how excited I would get when the groundskeeper lined the field before the game. Mom used to wonder where all her baby powder went when I was young. It was new. It was untouched. It was Spring ready to be sprung.

Maybe that’s why I have a feeling baseball will be played in Heaven. Not only does the Bible start with, “In the Big Inning,” but the whole purpose of the reason why we are all gathered together is to get home. It is always about crossing the plate and coming home. Could this be why, as in life we get so disappointed when the effort of our days end only on second or third? And unlike any other game, I can sacrifice my time at bat to get you home safe where you belong. “Put me in Coach! I’m ready to play, today, look at me, I can be, Centerfield!”