Archive » April 2014 » Columns

by John R. Williams

This scribe would like to have a nickel, no, maybe just a penny, for every time the following has been said: “Why do the weeks go by so fast?”

Tuesday has rolled around again, and it seems like it was just Tuesday the day before, but here it is Tuesday, April 22, 2014, and already 112 days of the year have gone by.  My goodness, the OFs will have to start their Christmas shopping pretty soon.

To add to this, in just a few more weeks, the Old Men of the Mountain will be right back at the Blue Star Restaurant in Schoharie ordering the same breakfast — or maybe not.

According to the OFs, spring has sprung because the peepers are peeping. Most of the OFs say, don’t count on it; one day does not spring make.

With the temperature hovering above freezing, and not by much, except for the aforementioned day, the snow does melt. With the snowmelt, the water table goes up and the OFs were talking about how much water they have. Some have their wells overflowing.

One OF said that he has water coming up all over the place, but this OF lives between two hills so this is understandable. However, one who has a well overflowing so the water is running from under the casing cap down the drive lives on top of the mountain. The OFs surmised there must be a ton of pressure on the water table to push the water up like that.

Then comes mid-summer and the OFs hope the water is still there. Generally it is.

One OF said occasionally some of their friends come up from the city to spend time with them and to be in the country for a while. They have day trips planned, and they do some farm-stand shopping, but what drives this OF up the wall is their indiscriminate use of water, “like there is an infinite source of water.”

The showers these friends take are long, and then long again. When trying to help in the kitchen, they turn on the tap and let ’er run. They have the water running and then walk away to do something else.

It is a good thing they are only here for a few days, the OF noted, and he stressed again that they are great friends and nice people.

Another OF chimed in that they have similar friends, again from places with public sources of water and apparently no usage tax. They don’t really know about being on a well with the energy to run the pump and the possibility that the water may be low in a long dry summer.

“Somehow,” the OF said, “we have to remember how important water is because we really aren’t that far removed from the fish we once were.”

 Sorrowful Friday pervades Easter

Easter is an event that is not celebrated like many of the others.

The OFs do not wish each other Happy Easter. Maybe at some ends of the table it was said, but nothing like the expressions heard at Christmas. Happy Easter does not have the ring to it as does Merry Christmas.

There were only a couple of OFs that even asked, “How was your Easter?”

On Thanksgiving, most of the OFs are curious about what the other OFs are doing for Thanksgiving, like family coming over, or checking to see if the OF was going anywhere.

Even the first day of deer season sparks more conversation than Easter. Good Friday, in many circles, is such a downer that it carries over into Easter. (No one really knows why it is called Good Friday, conjecture applies, so take your pick, only in German it is called Sorrowful Friday, everyone to their own interpretation. There that answers the OFs’ questions.)   

Dealing with

an aggressive cardinal

Some of the OFs discussed having birds attack the windows of their homes. The OFs were talking about deliberate attacks, not the occasional bird that flies headlong into a window.

Most of the time it is the cardinal that becomes so aggressive. One OF reported having one of the cardinals becoming such a nuisance that he was making a mess on the side of the house.

The OF said that this bird would attack his hand as he tried to shush it away. The OF said that the only thing between him and that crazed bird was the glass in the window.

This OF called the Cornell Cooperative Extension Service in Voorheesville for advice on how to handle the situation. They said that cardinals were very territorial and the cardinal saw his reflection in the window and saw what he thought was another cardinal.

The extension service said to hang newspaper on that window and the bird would not see his reflection and stop trying to attack the reflection. Did not work!  The dumb bird just went to the next window. More newspaper; the bird just went to the next adjacent window.

Finally one old farmer friend said he should get an owl from the garden shop and hang it where the bird will see it. Cardinals in the wild are afraid of owls and they can’t seem to tell the difference between plastic owls or the genuine bird.

The OF said he went and purchased two owls. Bingo! The next day, the bird was gone. The OF said he still has those owls, and no birds with aggressive behavior wailing at his house to date.

Condolences

The Old Men of the Mountain would like to offer their condolences to the family of Bob Dietz who passed away at his winter home in Tucson, Arizona.

Bob was a loyal member of the OMOTM and graced the company of OMOTM with his stories, and humor.

Those OFs with the courage to get out of bed, and ambulatory enough to make it to the Blue Star Restaurant in Schoharie were: Roger Shafer, Steve Kelly, Otis Lawyer, Jim Heiser, George Washburn, Glenn Patterson, Dick Ogsbury, Karl Remmers, Robie Osterman, Roger Chapman, Miner Stevens, Andy Tinning, Harold Guest, John Rossmann, Frank Pauli, Lou Schenck, Mace Porter, Gary Porter, Ken Hughes, Jack Norray, Don Wood, Bill Krause, Jim Rissacher, Ted Willsey, Elwood Vanderbilt, Harold Grippen, and me.

Post date: 
April 30, 2014

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by John R. Williams

The weather sometimes seems to support the Old Men of the Mountain because on Tuesday, April 15, it held off nicely for breakfast time. The OMOTM catch that break quite often, so, if you are planning anything that has to be done in the morning, make it a Tuesday morning and the weather should be OK thanks to the OMOTM.

This past Tuesday morning, the OFs who are beef eaters, (isn’t that a wine or some kind of alcoholic beverage?) were complaining about the prices of beef and bacon.

What brought that discussion up was the OFs were at the Country Café in Schoharie where they have the good bacon, the thick stuff that has some body to it, not that thin pre-cooked bacon that is so thin it is possible to read the paper through it. Real bacon — and even the bacon sliced so thin that the hog doesn’t even know it is gone — and the price of both of these types of bacon has taken its place among the stars.

Also, while on the subject of restaurants, the OFs started talking about the ambience of rest rooms, particularly in restaurants. The circulating thought was that a restaurant could have great food and dining-area ambience, but, if the restrooms are a step above an outhouse, then the whole place goes with it.

The OFs thought that this is because we are OFs and the restrooms are a little more important to us now. One OF mentioned that it might be because we have been married so long that some of the OFs’ uncouthness has been refined a little to the point where we are becoming more couth.

One OF mentioned that, when we were young, the restroom could be behind a tree, who cared, but, as we progressed through the aging process, the OFs now want clean bathrooms, warm, well lit, and soft toilet paper, toilets and sinks that work, and paper towels.

Same goals

Some discussion was unusual for the OFs and that was brought about by the lead in an editorial in the Albany Times-Union that the Albany, Schenectady, Troy area was one of the least religious areas in the nation. The discussion was on the differences in churches and, even with these differences, they all have the same goal.

Plant pain?

The OFs began talking about the findings of Cleve Baxter, and his work with plants, and their ability to feel or not feel pain. This is quite interesting, and, just like the UFO that has the Malaysian plane, there is much debate in the scientific community about plants feeling pain. Whether or not they do feel pain is the question, but having a nervous system does seem to have some basis.

Along with this there is still conversation among the OFs on this missing aircraft. This scribe will be glad when that sucker is found.

Personal pain

Then the OFs (including this scribe) started talking about their own pains, especially in our legs. Almost all, at the corner of the table where this scribe was seated, have puffy legs at night.

These puffy legs start just about at the sock line and, at the end of the day, can really be bothersome. Some of the OFs said, not only do the legs hurt, but they itch.

One OF said he has rubbed his legs raw, and there are scabs where he has scratched them. By morning, this swelling is gone and the legs appear to be normal, or how ever 70- or 80-year-old legs are supposed to look when normal.

All these OFs say they have reported this condition to their doctors who really don’t say anything or seem to pay any attention. The doctors just look at them and say, hmmm — and that’s about it.

The doctor’s reply is generic to each OF; only one doctor did tell one of the OFs to occasionally elevate his legs during the day and see if that helped.

See if that helps!  For crying out loud, are we OFs part of some learning curve?  This is why it’s called the practice of medicine; sometimes the doctors are still practicing on us.

One OF said that it seems funny that, when we go to the doctor with an eye that twitches twice, and then once, and then twice again, the doctor will immediately diagnose some rare malady that is found only in the jungles of the Congo.

Go there with two legs that are swollen above the OF’s socks as big as telephone poles, and below the sock as thin as chicken legs and the same doctors sit there scratching their heads.

One OF said that, while he was at his doctor’s office, he just started snorting and clearing his throat about three or four months ago, and it began like out of the blue. The doctor’s reply was, “You know, I started to do that about a year or so ago and I can’t get rid of it either.”

Then one OF said, “I hate it when the doctor says, ‘Oh that’ and then he admits he has ‘it’ too.”

Then again, many of the OFs think that, with the slightest new cough, hack, or twitch, the OF might have Beriberi but the doctors know that the OFs are OFs and really they have nothing — the OFs are in the category of getting old and these things are just going to happen.

Those OFs who made it to the Country Café in Schoharie regardless of what their doctors say were: Ted Willsey, Jerry Willsey, Jim Rissacher, Steve Kelly, Roger Shafer, Karl Remmers, Dick Ogsbury, Dave Williams, John Rossmann, Chuck Aleseio, Frank Pauli, Harold Guest, Miner Stevens, Glenn Patterson, Mark Traver, Jim Heiser, Robie Osterman, George Washburn, Roger Chapman, Mace Porter, Jack Norray, Lou Schenck, Ken Hughes, Henry Whipple, Bill Krause, Elwood Vanderbilt, Harold Grippen, and me. 

Post date: 
April 23, 2014

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by John R. Williams

Tuesday, April 8, The Old Men of the Mountain met at Mrs. K’s Restaurant in Middleburgh. The OMOTM sat at the tables and watched the tearing down of the old National Automotive Parts Association store across the street from Mrs. K’s. This shows some confidence in the village after the flood.

The Army-Navy rivalry popped up its little head at the breakfast Tuesday morning. One of Mrs. K’s specialties is creamed chipped beef on toast. That tasty combination is — or was — a staple in the Army.

One OF related this fact, as a couple of the OFs were served up their orders of the culinary delicacy. One of the OFs who was doled out the specialty is a Navy man through and through.

He promptly picked up on the slightly disparaging remark and said that the Navy received only good food on board ship. The “real stuff,” the Navy OF said.

The Army OF said they got powdered eggs, but the Navy OF said they had real eggs and real meat. The Navy OF said that they sent to the Army what the Navy didn’t want. For once, the Army OF said he had to agree.

However, the Navy guy wanted to have his bill cut in half because the toast was (in his opinion) burnt on the bottom. All the other OFs said he was nuts and the toast was perfect. The Navy OF was angling for a less expensive bill. The toast was fine. You have to watch these OFs — they are pretty clever.

Ways to skin a cat

This led right into the character of many of the OFs, if not all of them. Because of their age, most of the OFs are set in their ways.

It is my way or the highway, or that is the way it has always been done, or — and this is the best one — it is the way my mother or father always did it so it is the right way, and that is the way I do it — end of argument. If my toast is golden brown, everybody’s toast should be golden brown.

The OFs even discussed sawing a board.  Now, one would think there was really only one way to do that, but the OFs found out differently. Really, no matter how it was done, the board was still cut, square, and it fit.

Washing dishes was another dialogue; this one was typical, especially when it came to washing coffee pots. A few OFs said that they wash the pot thoroughly with soap and water.

The other OFs said no, that ruins the pot, and, no matter how the pot is rinsed, the taste of soap comes through the next time the pot is used and the coffee tastes awful. These OFs insisted that the pot should just be well rinsed and, when the coffee pot or carafe starts turning brown, one should run some vinegar through it and rinse it well. These OFs maintained soap ruins a coffee pot and a cup of coffee.

There are many habits and ways of doing things cultivated by the OFs and, as the years go by, the OFs become more vocal on what they think is the right way to do things. If Dad did it, then that is the way I will do it. If Dad chewed tobacco and spit it out the right side of his mouth, then, by golly, I will chew tobacco and spit it out the right side of my mouth.

One OF related a story that points out how stupid much of this is.

There was a young lady who, before cooking a roast, always cut the end from it. One day her daughter asked why she did that. The reply was because her mother always prepared a roast that way — by cutting off the end.

The little girl went and asked her grandmother why she cut the end off of the roast, and the grandmother said that it was because her mother always cut the end off of the roast.

Fortunately, the little girl’s great-grandmother was still alive so she went and asked the great-grandmother why she cut the end of the roast off, and the great-grandmother said, “I had to, because the pan was too short.”

Now you know how dumb many of these traditions are, and remember there is also Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof touting in song — traditions.

This scribe, as an OF, thinks that all this may be true but there is another side to this story.  Many OFs become freer and the axiom, “When I am old, I will wear purple,” squeezes itself in there someplace.

The OF will go out in public with red sneakers, black socks, white pants that are too short, and a plaid flannel shirt, with a tie, and think he looks fine. This scribe thinks Dad would never wear this outfit (maybe bibs, white shirt, and a tie) but then Dad would be in Central Bridge at the livestock auction — that isn’t that bad.

Those OFs who made it to Mrs. K’s Restaurant in Middleburgh, and all properly attired, were: Henry Witt, Roger Chapman, Andy Tinning, Roger Shafer, Mark Traver, Glenn Patterson, Harold Guest, Frank Pauli, Dave Williams, Robie Osterman, George Washburn, Jim Heiser, Otis Lawyer, Gerry Chartier, Harold Grippen, Steve Kelly, Miner Stevens, Bill Krause, Lou Schenck, Mace Porter, Don Wood, Henry Whipple, Bill Rice, Jim Rissacher, Ted Willsey, Elwood Vanderbilt, Gil Zabel, Mike Willsey, and me.

Post date: 
April 16, 2014

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by Frank L. Palmeri

When the first new vehicle my lovely wife and I had ever purchased, a red Plymouth Voyager, got T-boned and totaled, we needed a replacement vehicle right away. Fortunately, a neighbor had a Toyota Sienna minivan for sale.

That Sienna lasted us 11 years before dying at 186,000 miles — how I so wanted to get to 200,000! Though we've since replaced the Sienna, I'm having real problems getting used to being without it. It's like I've lost a dear, departed friend.

Here's the thing: When you spend 11 years with anything, you're going to get somewhat attached to it — think about a comfortable recliner, or a dog, or a neighborhood. I realize now I was really attached to my ugly green minivan.

I honestly thought it would last forever. (I used synthetic oil and everything.) I had that van set up just the way I like it, too: the beaded seat covers like the cab drivers use, a sweet Pioneer stereo, a roof rack for moving the kids’ mattresses around, and a tow hitch for my trailers.

With all the seats in, I could take seven of us to all those special events where it's so much easier to take one car, and, with the seats out, I could stuff full sheets of plywood or even a motorcycle in there. What a great car.

The Car Talk boys on NPR always made fun of minivans, but there is no other vehicle that is so versatile. Lee Iacocca saved Chrysler when he came out with the first min-van; me and all the other handy guys who stuff them full of wood and tools and who-knows-what and the many soccer moms who stuff them full of energetic kids thank him very much and still think minivans are terrific.

So here's what happened: The other day, I was on my way to, of all things, a root canal (my fifth, I'm going for the root canal record it seems) when, all of a sudden, the Sienna started to shake violently and the check-engine light came on.

I managed to get the van to my mechanic where he informed me that two cylinders were dead. Ouch! I immediately asked him to give me a price on a replacement engine, but get this: He refused to do it.

I'm lucky to have a truly honest mechanic, and he explained to me that, because of the vehicle's age and rust and leaks and dings, it would make absolutely no sense to put a new engine in the thing, and that I should just "walk away."

Believe me, I struggled mightily with this decision, but finally I could see that he was right. Emotion gave way to practicality, but not without a lot of soul-searching and remorse.

When we went to the mechanic’s shop to empty out the glove box and get the rest of my junk before saying goodbye forever, I asked my wife to take a final picture of me and my ugly green minivan, for sentimental reasons.

So she gets out her fancy-schmancy smart phone, one of several that I pay ginourmous dollars for the members of my family to have, and then announces that her camera function is not working. Are you kidding me?

So I got out my half-busted "dumb" phone, with its lousy low-resolution camera, and had her take the picture with that. Later, she told me the camera was fine, but some setting was wrong. Sigh. I sure wish it was the not-so-smart phone that gave up the ghost instead of my beloved ugly green minivan.

Then I almost bought a brand spanking new minivan, but, at the last minute, I decided not to. The thing is, I really use my minivans for hauling and towing lots of stuff, and the pressure of having a sparkling clean one was too much to deal with.

I'd be so concerned with keeping it spotless that I wouldn't be able to enjoy it. So I wound up getting a used Honda Odyssey, a very highly rated minivan, but I haven't bonded with it yet. I mean, how can you come off an 11-year relationship and just start off new? The only relationship I've had longer than that has been with my wife. (I really, really miss my ugly green Sienna.)

I briefly thought about buying a pickup truck instead of another minivan, but I didn't for two main reasons: one, I still have a need to seat seven every now and then, and, two, no one ever wants to borrow your car or your minivan or your motorcycle, but they always want to borrow your truck.

I'm not averse to helping out, I'm really not, but it gets out of hand. Here's just one example: I once agreed to help install a window air-conditioner in the spring. The person I was helping was fastidious, and the installation had to be just perfect.

Of course, then I had to un-install it in the fall. So now I'm making two trips a year just for the air-conditioner, and then other odd jobs started popping up, and all of a sudden it's like I have a part-time job.

Don't get me wrong, I love being helpful, but I work full time and own a house and have kids and there are other people who need my help as well. So that's part of the reason I didn't go for the pickup.

If you're not lending it out, you're getting asked to do something with it, and I really do have enough things of my own to take care of.

You know when you go into a really old lunch place like Mike's Red Hots on Erie Boulevard, and the edges of the counters are rounded over from all the elbows rubbing on them over the years? My Sienna had a feature where you could change the radio station from the steering wheel. When I installed my rocking Pioneer stereo, I lost the steering wheel channel changer, but I'd still fiddle with it in an OCD kind of way all the time.

I played with it so much that I wore through the black outer surface and was down to the white plastic below. Just like that rounded over lunch counter, the worn-through radio switch was a symbol of a long and wonderful relationship.

Here's another analogy that might help: Many years ago, I saw ZZ Top at the Nassau Coliseum. The show was phenomenal — Billy Gibbons is one of the greatest blues guitarists ever.

After the show, I bought a long sleeved ZZ Top concert shirt. This shirt became my favorite shirt by a mile, and I wore and washed it so much that it became, after many years, like a rag that I still somehow tried to wear.

Finally, after I'd cut off so much that there was nothing left, I had to let it go. This is what it was like letting the Sienna go.

Though the seat belts had lost their springiness, the doors didn't open correctly, it made all kinds of strange noises, it leaked, it was rusty, and the paint was truly ugly, that Sienna, like my beloved ZZ Top shirt, was supremely comfortable, like the comfort of a warm blanket on a winter night. I better stop before I start to cry.

If you happen to have an ugly green Toyota Sienna minivan (I still see them around), don't be surprised if there's a guy shedding a tear as you drive on by. That would be me.

Post date: 
April 16, 2014

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by Peter Henner

On April 1, Chessvibes.com reported that United States President Barack Obama and Russian President Vladimir Putin issued a joint statement announcing that they would meet later this month to play a game of chess.

Although President Obama stated last month that the United States does not see the current situation “as some Cold War chessboard,” he now acknowledges that “the game of chess goes beyond any possible conflict… between the United States and Russia. This is an expression of hopes and aspirations of people in every country to solve all conflicts between us between the boundaries of the 64 squares.”

President Putin added, “The stakes are very high. The game will be of utmost importance for the new world order.”

Although both Obama and Putin have some experience with chess, they both will be assisted by famous grandmasters. Obama is expected to be assisted by three-time U.S. Champion Hikaru Nakamura, and former world Champion Garry Kasparov, a Russian opponent of Putin who characterized Putin as “a decent calculator [who] likes to attack, but… lacks… positional judgment.”

Another former world Champion, Anatoly Karpov, currently a member of the Russian Parliament, is expected to assist Putin.

(Editor’s note: Yes, this is an April Fool’s Day joke.)

Anand wins Candidates Tournament,

earns rematch against Carlsen

Many people believed that Vishy Anand would withdraw from high-level chess competition after losing the world championship last year. However, Anand, at 44, the oldest competitor, won the eight-man double round-robin Candidates tournament in Khanty-Mansiysk, Russia, and will play Magnus Carlsen for the championship in November.

Anand was undefeated, scoring 8 ½ - 5 ½, to place first by a full point over Sergey Karjakin who was second with 7 ½ - 6 ½. Anand won his first-round game against Levon Aronian, ranked number two in the world. Aronian recovered to tie Anand after 7 rounds, but lost his last two games to finish in a tie for 6th-7th, with 6 ½ - 7 ½.

Chess has come a long way in the last hundred years: The prize fund for the tournament was €420,000, with Anand, as the winner, receiving €95,000, and even Veselin Topalov, who finished eighth with 6-8, receiving €17,000.

Deepak Aaron scores big

at Eastern Class Championship

Deepak Aaron, the strongest player to grow up in the Capital District, came home on spring break from Georgia Tech, where he is studying chemical engineering, to play in the Eastern Class Championships in Sturbridge, Mass.

He defeated Grandmaster Alexander Fishbein and drew GMs Alexander Ivanov and world champion contender Gata Kamsky, and raised his rating 35 points, to 2465.

Kamsky placed first with 4 ½ - ½, ahead of GMs Sam Shankland and Aleksander Lenderman, who tied with Deepak and Victor Shen for 2nd – 5th, with 4-1 and Ivanov and Fishbein with 3 ½ - 1 ½.

Other Capital District players: in the Expert section: Dean Howard 1 ½- 1 ½, Peter Henner 1 ½  - 2 ½.  Class A:  Dilip Aaron 2 ½ - 2 ½, Martha Samadashvili 2 ½ - 2 ½, Scott Boyce 1 ½ - 2 ½. Class B: Zaza Samadashvili 3 ½ - 1 ½, Jonathan D’Alonzo 3-2, Sandeep Alampalli 2 ½ - 2 ½. Class D:  Joseph D’Alonzo 3-2.

Sam Shankland is a senior at nearby Brandeis University, and is establishing himself as one of the strongest players in the U.S. His uncle, my endodontist, is happy that his nephew may have found a career doing something where he may be one of the best in the world.

Shankland was undefeated when he met Kamsky in the fourth round. Kamsky sacrificed a piece for an attack in a game that drew a crowd of spectators, including me. 

Kamsky-Shankland,

Sturbridge, Ma. 3-16-14

1. d4 Nf6 2. Bf4 d5 3. e3 e6 4. Nd2 c5 5. c3 Nc6 6. Ngf3 Bd6 7. Bg3 O-O 8. Bd3 Qe7 9. Ne5 Nd7 10. Nxd7 (f4 is more common) Bxd7 11. Bxd6 Qxd6 12. dxc5 Qxc5 13. Bxh7+!? Kxh7.

14. Qh5+ Kg8 15. Ne4 Qc4 16. Ng5 Rfd8 17. Qxf7+ Kh8 18. Qh5+ Kg8. The crowd of spectators was at its thickest at this point, at least 10 of us. Kamsky thought for a long time, at least 10 minutes here, obviously looking for a win rather than a draw by perpetual check. Looking at the position, I saw that Kamsky had an attack, but I didn’t see how he could win, and thought he might have to settle for a draw since he was behind in material.

19. Rd1! e5? After this move, Houdini downgrades Black’s position from  - 2.4 to -3.3 20.Qf7+ Kh8 21. e4 Ne7 (Black must give the piece back to prevent Rxe5) 22. Qxe7 Bb5 23. Rd2 Qxa2? (desperation, but Black is lost anyway).  24. Qf7 Qa1+

25. Rd1 Qxb2 26. Qh5+ Kg8 27. Qh7+ Kf8 28. Qh8+ Ke7 29. Qxg7+ Kd6 30. Rxd5+ Kc6 31. Qf6+ Black resigns.

This week’s problem

As a young man, future world champion Wilhelm Steinitz was known as the “Austrian Morphy.”

The American Paul Morphy was perhaps the most brilliant chess player of the 19th Century — he traveled to Europe in 1857, defeated all the best European players, and then retired from chess, reputedly because there was no one strong enough to compete with him.

Here Steinitz finds a neat mate in 3.

Post date: 
April 9, 2014

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by Frank L. Palmeri

Back in the day — and I mean way, way back — men wore loincloths, painted their faces, and went out with spears to hunt down a beast so the family could eat. Back then, manly tasks like hunting and building made it clear what men did and what they stood for.

But now, with smart phones, Netflix, and 0-percent down, 36-month leases, there's not as many manly things for us guys to do. This is a problem — men still want and need to be men, after all.

So I thought I'd list a few manly things I do, since I'm first and foremost a manly man (my cell phone isn't even a smart phone, so there).

One manly thing I do is use government-issued toilet paper. That's no big deal, you say? Well let me ask you this: Would you like to wipe with paper that was purchased from the lowest bidder? I didn't think so. Manly men with government jobs do this all the time, and we hardly ever complain about it.

I like to get these big jars of pretzels at the buyers’ club. They're great but they must have a gorilla putting the lids on, because opening them is surely a manly task.

What works for me is sitting in a chair with the big jar wedged between my vice-like legs, and then clutching and twisting the lid with both hands until the lid breaks free. This is actually quite a good upper-body exercise, and the accompanying grunting noises are sure to entertain all nearby. You didn't think opening pretzels could be a manly activity, but it is.

The electric drill is probably the most useful tool ever invented, and these days just about everyone has switched to battery power for the convenience and freedom. But real men take on the big jobs, and that means corded tools.

I still have corded versions of drills and saws, and trying to do good work while not tripping over the cord is very manly indeed. I always lay sheets of plywood on top of boards and cut them flat with a corded circular saw, and half the battle there — besides keeping the chips out of your eyes — is watching where the cord goes. Manly men know how to do this instinctively.

You ever pull into a gas station and see cars lined up because they're waiting for a pump on the "right side?" You know, if the gas cap is on the left, they want a pump on the left, etc.

Well, as a Manly Man, I'm proud to say I can pump from either side, thank you. Yes, I sometimes have to drag the hose over the car but what the hey, it makes the whole process a little more interesting so that's a plus. Manly men would rather struggle with the dang hose than wait.

I also do my own oil changes. On a nice day with the garage door open and the music blasting, it's not half bad, but doing them in the winter is not so much fun I'll admit. Oil changes involve lying on my back under the car with hot oil dripping down my arm right past my face.

I do save money, of course, but there's extra laundry to do I know, and the spills can be messy. Ironically, I just bought a car where the only way to keep the warrantee valid is by letting them do the oil changes, so I may not be doing so many from now on.

But check this out: If you have front-wheel drive, you have CV joints protected by rubber bellows knows as boots. When I do my oil changes, while I'm under there, I always apply rubber protectant to my boots, so my expensive CV joints will stay protected.

Meanwhile, the boots I wear on my feet are all worn out and dirty. Isn't it something that the boots I own that you can't see are beautiful, while the boots I own that you can see are a mess? That's how my life always works out.

I also do the following manly things at various times:

— Eat broccoli without oil and garlic;

— Listen to LP records;

— Drink unfancy black coffee;

— Get dressed in the dark so as not to wake the wife (that's why I often have two different socks on);

— Drink out of water fountains; and

— Eat raw clams (don't laugh — a local restaurant wanted me to sign a statement before serving me raw clams).

As you can imagine, there are some things a manly man like me will never do, I never:

— Run with scissors (Mom was right);

— Answer the phone (it's always for my wife or a telemarketer so why bother);

— Watch any movies or TV shows about doctors or hospitals;

— Order anything "small";

— Wear sandals with that strap between the toes (ouch!);

— Use any product that is "scented"; or

— Throw anything out of a moving car window.

Back in the day, it was easy to tell who the manly men were; today not so much. But, as long as there are oil changes to do and things to put together and stuff to be moved and strong black coffee, we'll be OK.

Post date: 
April 9, 2014

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by John R. Williams

On April 1, the OFs pulled a great April Fool’s joke just by waking up. Oh, by the way, now that the OFs are here, thank goodness March is gone — in like a lion, out like a lion. Maybe now we will get at least a hint of spring.

It doesn’t have the spring smell yet, and we haven’t heard any peepers. In June, the OFs might be complaining the other way, but, for now, let’s have a little spring before summer gets here.

Tuesday morning, the OFs met at the Middleburgh Diner, in Middleburgh with the usual weather report from the OFs.

Many of the OFs harkened back to when they were in school and there really was no emphasis put on saving for retirement. Saving money, yes, but, for retirement, not so much.

When the OFs were young, many people died before they reached retirement age, so nobody really worried about it. Then came World War II, Hitler, and medicine took off, quickly followed by technology and modern pharmaceuticals and now the OFs are really OFs, and active OFs, and well into our retirement years and wondering what we should have done differently to prepare financially when we were working.

The OFs are here now, so what happens, happens.

The ups and downs

of being an OF

This next discussed item pertains to not only OFs but also to their ladies (unless some are lucky enough to have ladies 20 years their junior) and that is getting down and up.  (We are already up, so it’s down and up for us).

Most of the OFs say they can get down, but getting up — now, that is a problem.

The OFs all have a different way to attack getting up. Some have to have the left foot in back, plus something to push on. Other OFs say that, if they have to get down, and they are away from any hefty object they can grab on to, they then have to crawl to something that is sturdy enough for them to push on to get up.

One OF mentioned that this really gets in the way of routine housework, like cleaning under things, or getting down to put the chair glides back under the chairs. Simple things that used to be so normal now become major projects.

Another OF said that, not only does he have trouble getting down and up, but he has shrunk in stature so that he is finding he can’t reach items on the top shelf even with standing on his tip toes. This OF says his whole range of motion has changed.

The OF says he would rather get down on one knee to pick something up than bend over, as long as there is something solid next to him that will help him get up. Bending over for any length of time makes his face flush and his back hurt.

Ah, the golden years.

The golden years, one OG quipped, is the money the OFs pay the person who comes once a week to clean; they are getting the gold.

Pining for deals

On a completely different topic, the OFs talked about making deals — or not. It seems to many of the OFs that sweetheart deals are always going to someone else and not to them.

One OF mentioned the deal one of his relatives made at an estate sale and, from the OF’s telling, it sounded like this was legalized robbery more than a deal. The OFs all bemoaned the fact that they are never around when these great deals happen or, if they happen to be present when a great deal is to be had, all they have in their wallets is five bucks.

An OF made an interesting observation by commenting how they notice that really good deals are never advertised; they just seem to happen. There was a little mumbling around the table that affirmed the OF’s observation.

It was alluded to by some that the old adage of being in right place at the right time had a lot to do with it. An OG added that being decisive and jumping at the deal is also important. If you are wishy-washy, someone else will run away with your deal.

Dressing from the top

Some of the OFs get dressed by grabbing what is on top of the pile and putting it on and heading out.

“We all do that,” said an OF. “I am not going to stand around to make sure this color shirt goes with this color pant, and these socks match the whole thing. I just grab whatever is clean and on top.”

That was apparent Tuesday morning when one OF showed up in a coat that made him look like he had lost 20 pounds. When questioned the OF said he hadn’t lost any weight and when the OF looked at himself he said, “Gee, I don’t think this is my coat.”

“I guess it isn’t,” said another OF, “unless you have had a sex-change operation — that coat has the buttons on the left.”

“Ah,” the OF said, “it must be my wife’s.  I grabbed it because it was on top.”

Case closed.

Those OFs who attended the breakfast at the Middleburgh Diner in Middleburgh and arrived fully clothed (no matter whose clothes they were) were: Dave Williams, Frank Pauli, Robie Osterman, Miner Stevens, John Rossmann, George Washburn, Harold Guest, Mark Traver, Roger Chapman, Andy Tinning, Jack Norray, Lou Schenck, Mace Porter, Ken Hughes, Bill Krause, Mike Willsey, Elwood Vanderbilt, Gill Zabel, Harold Guest, Gerry Chartier, and me.

Post date: 
April 9, 2014

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by Michael Seinberg

It’s now been a few months since the great kitty rescue debacle, and things have settled to some degree. Of course, we are now learning just how interesting it is to live with two young cats that spent their formative years Dumpster diving and avoiding humans.

First off, we learned that cats are not like dogs. I mean not even close. They might both be four-footed mammals, but that’s as far as it goes and I think the cats generally deny being four-footed or mammals. I have the distinct impression they see themselves as equal to humans, but smarter and more god-like in some ineffable manner.

On a daily basis, living with two cats involves a couple of new tasks not in any way connected with previous dog experience.

First is feeding. Every morning and at about 4 p.m. every afternoon, our otherwise quiet cats turn into loud, pushy furry vacuums in search of wet cat food. They constantly revolve about our feet as we try and move from the cabinet where their cans are stored to the counter where we open and put the stinky mush into bowls for them. The minute the can pops open, they go into hyper-drive and start literally climbing the cabinets and attempting to trip us in a rush to get to the now-accessible food.

Once the food is in the bowls, getting it to the floor involves a balancing act that makes tight-rope walking look easy. I kind of wonder if their secret desire is to cause us to trip, fall, drop the food, and knock us unconscious, allowing them instant access to spilled food and our tender body as a dessert item.

Once the food has been served, silence descends as they attack the food with a vengeance that is normally reserved for cheetahs that have just felled an antelope. Feeding the dog involves putting dry food in the bowl and walking away. The dog wanders over and eats when she feels like it, or when the cats have stopped sneaking in and eating her food.

And immediately following the food insanity is the litter box.

Cat people always say that cats are very clean and fastidious little people. They seem so on the surface, but anyone who has lived within a two-mile radius of a kitty box will attest to the fact that they may be clean, but their waste products reek!

It takes a covered, filtered box filled with scented, clumping litter and multiple cleanings per day to keep our house from smelling like a landfill on a hot August afternoon just after a delivery of rotted fish guts and a tanker full of raw sewage.

Suffice it to say that, in comparison, the dog is a paragon of poop virtue.

Another area we learned about is the sheer destructiveness of cats. Yes, I know that stories of dogs chewing things up are legion, but having a tiny, aging, mostly toothless Chihuahua as the only canine rep in the house doesn’t really do much on that score.

To cats, any object is a toy and the ability to knock it over, tear it to shreds, toss it around, and spread it through the house is considered good sport. Thus, I have watched in awe as they destroy whole houseplants, knock useful items to the floor, bat around wood pellets like they’re the best toy ever invented, and get weird and wild on catnip-filled mice.

Watching two cats play and romp is very entertaining but you have to wonder what they’re really practicing for. Some books and articles suggest it’s their hunting behavior, which would be fine except the only thing for them to hunt in the house is the aforementioned geriatric Chihuahua and the humans.

Perhaps they’re in training to get outside and kill small animals. But we don’t plan on letting them out due to their history and only slightly civilized behavior. Besides, the rescue groups suggest keeping them as indoor beasts and we’re going with that.

In general, the kitties are a nice addition to the house (though the dog would argue that point) and we’re pleased they seem happy and healthy. But you have to admit that they sometimes get a certain gleam in their eye that suggests ulterior motives to their behavior.

I remember the sort of damage Toonces the cat who could drive used to do on Saturday Night Live and I know my insurance company would not take kindly if these two got hold of my keys. But for now, all seems well. So, has anyone seen the dog recently? Uh oh.

Editor’s note: Michael Seinberg describes himself as a long-time animal fan and lifelong dog person, and says he whole cat thing is still being taken under advisement.

Post date: 
April 2, 2014

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by John R. Williams

Darn, darn, and darn again — it is still cold. At least the cold was still around on Tuesday, March 25, when the Old Men of the Mountain met at the Hilltown Café in Rensselaerville. The OFs think the town of Rensselaerville should petition the state to repair the roads into Rensselaerville (especially Route 85) and through the village to the bridge headed up the hill towards the Hilltown Café.

That stretch of highway is so full of holes that it is necessary to change lanes to miss them, and, if a car is coming, the common-sense thing to do is to stop so your vehicle isn’t in a pothole so deep it will have to be extricated by a crane. When you’re finally out of the hole, the highway guys will have to deal with four to seven really ticked off OFs.

One OF suggested that this may all be deliberate to control speed — like nature-made speed bumps.

“Well,” one OF said, “I would hate to be in an ambulance with a punctured lung and have them go over that stretch of road at any speed faster than 25 miles per hour. Faster than that would bounce me off the gurney even if I were strapped down.” 

The OFs coming from Schoharie County do not have to deal with that; they have nice roads right up to the Hilltown Café.

The OFs have mentioned before (in this little weekly report) that the Hilltown Café and the Rensselaerville Post Office are in the same small building just outside the village, off the road heading up the hill. The OFs who live in the town of Knox take advantage of this to purchase stamps, and take care of other post-office business because the post office in the town of Knox is no longer available.

The OFs complain about this all the time.

The OFs in Knox have to trot either to East Berne or Altamont to transact any routine post-office business they may have. For some OFs, this is a 20-mile round trip. ’Tain’t fun, Magee, when the alimony is due and there is a blinding snowstorm.

The town of Berne is about 60 square miles, and the town of Knox is about 42 square miles and the population in each town is about the same — 2,700 souls, and the town of Berne has two post offices. The town of Rensselaerville is about 60 square miles with 1,800-plus bodies running around, and it has a post office. Something doesn’t add up here, so the OFs still complain and are wondering whom we have offended.

Slow boat

One OF just returned from a cruise in the Caribbean and the OF reported he had a good time.

This OF said the boat was loaded with older OFs, most older than he. This OF said he thinks that, outside of the crew, he was about the youngest passenger on board.

He reported that there were so many on oxygen and in wheelchairs that it took forever to disembark at ports of call, sometimes over two hours just to get off the boat.

Rock solid

The OFs talked about the mudslide in the state of Washington, and one OF mentioned that, in our area, we complain about the rock but, when things like this happen, the OFs are glad it is rock and not mud.

One OF said he doesn’t think the rock is going anywhere. Another OF said the rock doesn’t move even when we want it to.

The OFs felt so bad for those caught in the mudslide.

An OF said, from what he read, the Army Corps of Engineers reported quite awhile ago that the area was no place to build because the land was unstable. Forewarned should be forearmed, and the OFs guessed in this case no attention was paid to the warning.

Suspicions confirmed

In the category of suspicions confirmed, many of the OFs have said all along that the missing Malaysian plane is at the bottom of the Indian Ocean. The theory of some of the OFs seems to be playing out.

These OFs surmised that something catastrophic occurred on that plane and the pilot attempted to turn around and return to the airport but it was too late and all perished at the same time. The autopilot took over and the plane flew straight over the Indian Ocean until it ran out of fuel and crashed into the sea.

The one open end to this train of thought the OFs have is the loss of communications from anyone on board, or the plane itself. To which one OF theorized it could be a new technological problem that may occur when electronic equipment is confronted with serious and rapid decompression.

Some of the components in these devices could also decompress enough so they fail. Could be.

One OF still says this plane is inside a UFO headed to another universe in the cosmos.

Budget whiners

The OFs also discussed single-interest budget whiners, for example, schools wanting more money, and how we pay the most for education than any state, yet the kids are still falling behind, and it is not, emphasize not, the fault of the teachers.

The teachers quite often make diamonds out of clay with the students they have.

The OFs also talked about jobs and working (two different things), maple syrup, Easter, wood, deer, black flies, and others topics of specific interest.  

We OFs do chatter on and those OFs who made it to the Hilltown Café in Rensselaerville regardless of all the potholes were: Roger Chapman, Robie Osterman, George Washburn, Harold Guest, Frank Pauli, John Rossmann, Otis Lawyer, Jim Heiser, Chuck Aleseio, Glenn Patterson, Miner Stevens, Mark Traver, Andy Tinning, Lou Schenck, Gary Porter, Mace Porter, Jack Norray, Bill Krause, Henry Whipple, Bill Rice, Elwood Vanderbilt, Harold Grippen, Ted Willsey, Mike Willsey, Jim Rissacher, Gerry Chartier, and me.

Post date: 
April 2, 2014

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