ADDISYN MCKINLEI REAMS
Community
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NATURAL GAS TAX
Centre County is losing millions of tax dollars each year since the state Supreme Court struck down a natural gas well tax in 2002, causing local leaders to band together in pressuring state lawmakers to reinstate the levy.
POLL: Should the state reinstate a tax on natural gas wells?
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BELLEFONTE — A proposed dental clinic on Bishop Street has acquired four zoning variances from the borough, but some residential property owners are concerned the development would reduce their privacy.
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OSCEOLA MILLS — The Fourth of July might be America’s birthday, but it’s Osceola Mills’ family reunion. And here, everyone is family on the Fourth. Even if you’ve never been here before.
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A new life for Spring Mills wetlands
When Mary Kay and Greg Williams purchased their 40- acre property along state Route 45 in Spring Mills in 1991, they considered it "a diamond in the rough."
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Downtown State College sprucing up for visitors
STATE COLLEGE — The town and its people cleaned house for the nation's birthday Wednesday — sprucing up storefronts, weeding flower beds and hammering into place the festive structures of July.
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Mr. and Mrs. Duane O. Callahan, of State College, celebrated their 65th Wedding Anniversary at their Mt. Plymouth winter residence in Florida, on March 27, 2008. Their children, Mr. Mike Callahan and Mrs. Margaret Myers, and their families, sent them warmest wishes.
Water had always been just “water” for me — a noun, a category — that is, until one afternoon a while back when I went into a
Dan and Nicole (Hall) Cunningham, of Julian, announce the birth of their son, on June 10, 2008, at Mount Nittany Medical Center, State College. The infant, who was named Kollin Daniel Cunningham, weighed 9 pounds, 10.5 ounces. He has two sisters and one brother.
A French farmer just south of Paris picks his fruit from the vine, ferments it and puts it into a glass container. It is shipped to the nearby city and the jar of pickles sells for the U.S. equivalent of $1.80.
Mornings before dawn, I come downstairs, make coffee, shoo the cats outside, sit in the darkness and write. Most of the time what I write requires an act of remembrance. Sometimes the memories are easily available, almost like the rerun of a familiar television show, but more often they are elusive at first. I stare for long minutes into the darkness, waiting for the neurons to fire, like a car trying to start on a cold morning.

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