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by Judy Rothstein

Why do people volunteer?  The answers are as varied as the people I interviewed. I asked some of Caregivers’ volunteers what actually motivated them to volunteer.

John Meany — he likes to be called Jack — started volunteering three or four years ago after his wife died. Jack’s daughter had passed along copies of The Enterprise, and it was there he learned about Caregivers.

He thought, “If it pans out, so much the better.” Later he said, “Volunteering helped me through that time.”  It filled his empty time.

Jack does transportation twice a week. Mostly, he takes people to doctors for their appointments, sometimes to a hospital. Sometimes “…transporting for radiation, you get to know them [the clients]. After a while, people open up.” He continued, “After I got into it, I found that it really is keeping people in their homes. It’s doing what its mission says.”

So Jack started out as a volunteer for what he said was ”…a perceived, personal need.” There was no pressure from Community Caregivers.

And, after a while, he realized he looked forward to it; it was rewarding to satisfy someone’s needs.  “There’s a degree of satisfaction,” he said. “It’s hard to describe.”

Jack likes meeting people, and he sees that the people he helps are so appreciative.  He often finds himself saying, “That was a good mission today.”

Jack doesn’t want to portray himself as a hero or somebody who is outstanding. He calls himself ”…just an average Joe.” Jack joins Community Caregivers’ family in choosing to make a difference in his community by helping others maintain their independence, dignity, and quality of life.

Most of Caregivers’ volunteers don’t think of themselves as heroes, but they certainly are to those they help. Consider calling the office at 456-2878 to sign up for an orientation. The Fall schedule is first Tuesdays at 10 or Third Thursdays at noon.

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September 27, 2015

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by John R. Williams

On a beautiful Tuesday morning on Sept. 15, the Old Men of the Mountain had their breakfast at the Home Front Café in Altamont. It was almost too nice of a day to be indoors, but here the OMOTM were having breakfast inside.

This was an unusual breakfast because of the opening remarks by some of the OFs as they came up the ramp to the dining area of the restaurant. Most were chuckling and some were even laughing.

“Did you see the news last night?” was one opening remark, and then a few others would come in and say, “Did you see the paper this morning?”

What was causing all this snickering?  It was that someone couldn’t live on $80,000 a year so apparently it was OK for him to steal in order he could take care of his family. All of the OFs said, if someone gave them $80,000 a year, they would be able to live very well.

Some legislator said he could not live on that amount of money, and one OF said, add the per diems to the eighty grand, and committee assignments, and it approaches $100,000 a year. What is wrong with this picture? The OFs would consider half of this pretty comfortable.

“Are these people on another planet?” one OF wondered.

And, apparently, it could be a defense that it was OK to steal if you made $30,000 a year or, if you don’t make enough money (in your mind) to support your family, it would be OK to steal to make up the difference. The OFs use the “wow” as exclamation points on this discussion.

Strange deer habit

The OFs left that topic and segued into hunting.  An OF asked the hunters in the group, “Why do deer eat burnt wood?”

The OF said in his backyard fireplace there are pieces of burnt wood and three deer come out nearly every day and gnaw on those pieces of burnt wood. The OF said the same deer come so often he has names for them like pets.

Some OFs gave their opinions on why the deer are doing this. The ideas sounded plausible but for some reason did not seem right. Deer eat a lot of things but gnawing on burnt logs was not on the list.

Waking up is hard to do

The OFs talked a little bit on how the OFs used to behave when they were younger. The OFs were not talking about when they were kids at this time, but by younger they were talking about 60 years old.

At this age, when most of the OFs woke up, they would immediately get out of bed and do whatever they did, put in their teeth, or go to the bathroom, or slip on the slippers — things like that. The OFs got up out of bed right away and started the day.

Now in their 80s, most of the OFs say they sit on the edge of the bed for awhile and contemplate the effort of getting up. Then one foot may hit the floor and the OFs say to themselves, “Well, I’ve gotten this far, I might just as well do the whole darn thing” and then they put the other foot on the floor.

Are they ready for the day? No, but the OFs make themselves ready and, once they get going, it doesn’t seem that bad. All the old friends are there — the aching back, the sore feet, the cramping legs, but the OFs are used to them by now and continue on regardless.

Traveling tribe

This scribe is amazed at how often the OFs have been to the same places around our great country. This time it was Greenfield Village, and the Ford Museum in Dearborn, Michigan. The OMOTM has an OF who, with his wife, is there right now so, when his name was brought up as to where he was, about nine OFs said they have been there and it is some place.

It was concluded that visitors had better have good walking shoes if they are going to do all three things, the village, the museum, and the factory tour. Some of the OFs said they couldn’t make this trip any more unless they stayed a week and took in a little bit each day.

Disasters abound

On a more somber note, the OFs talked about the wild fires out west, and how they feel for those people. The OFs think there is really no place to run away from natural disasters.

The fires out West, the tornados in the center of the country, the hurricanes in the South and along each coast, the blizzards in the North and Northeast, and earthquakes anywhere makes it seem like an OF can only run from one mess into another.

An OF says it really is a miracle that the homes is some areas are one- and two-hundred years old. One OF thought a young family starting out should build a geotactic home out of concrete. That, the OF thinks, should handle just about anything.

Jury duty

Jury duty is a discussion the OFs have on occasion but not many have been called to serve on a jury, and then a couple of the OGs have been called more than once. The OFs think that most of the OFs are too old to be on a jury.

Number one is that any one of us could keel over at any time. Many have had heart bypass surgery, and many are walking around with stents in the heart. One OF mentioned that most of the OFs can’t remember where they put the car keys, or even their wife’s maiden name.

One OF joked, “To heck with the wife, sometimes I have to stop and think who I am.”

What a bunch we would make if we were on a jury; we would probably send the judge up the river for life.

“Yeah,” another OF added, “I would have trouble remembering who the defendant was, and might even think his lawyer was the plaintiff. Wouldn’t any one of us cause quite a bit of confusion in the deliberating room? You bet we would — we’d probably say ‘not guilty’ to a guy who stole because he didn’t think he made enough money to support the lifestyle he wanted.”

Hmmm — isn’t this where we came in?

Pressing work

The Old Men of the Mountain would like to thank Steve Dunham from Dunedin, Florida who took the time to send the OFs a lengthy letter of his time on a dairy farm in the Raymertown, New York area.

He included a picture of himself as a young man working at a homemade cider press he built and he is in hip boots. Mr. Dunham states this was to keep the snakes from crawling up his pant legs as he stood pressing the cider

Those attending the breakfast at the Home Front in Altamont which, according to The Enterprise, was the home of the Enterprise at one time, were: George Washburn, Robie Osterman, Joe Ketzer, Art Frament, Miner Stevens, John Rossmann, Harold Guest, Frank Pauli, Dave Williams, Bill Bartholomew, Roger Shafer, Rich Donnelley, Bob Lassome, Duane Wagenbaugh, Lou Schenck, Mace Porter, Chuck Aelesio, Jim Heiser, Glenn Patterson, Mark Traver, Ted Willsey, Jim Rissacher, Jerry Willsey, Bob Fink, Bob Benninger, Henry Whipple, Elwood Vanderbilt, Harold Grippen, Mike Willsey,. Gerry Chartier, and me.

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September 25, 2015

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by Dennis Sullivan
The Flyer

“The Flyer,” a watercolor painted by John White in 1585 shows a member of the Secotan tribe in North Carolina with the icon of a bird, wings outstretched, attached to his head.

The first chapter of Graeme Green’s “The Power and the Glory,” published in 1940, tells of a certain Mr. Tench who as a boy felt impelled to become a dentist like his father after finding in a wastebasket a discarded cast of a patient’s mouth.

The family tried to dissuade the boy from his fascination with the “toy” by offering an Erector Set in trade but the boy refused. It was too late, Greene says, “fate had struck,” and then with what is often quoted with regard to having a calling in life he adds: “There is always one moment in childhood when the door opens and lets the future in.”

The door of course is the door to the unconscious. When it opens, the initiate — of any age, and it opens more than once — receives a vision, hears a voice, telling him what path to take in life, how to situate himself in the world. And the recipient has no choice but to obey unless he wishes to be haunted by guilt and regret for becoming a self he was not meant to be. 

The haunting persists, the Swiss writer Alain de Botton says in “The Real Meaning of Your ‘True Calling’” (“O, The Oprah Magazine,” November 2009), because one’s calling is connected to such primal questions as “Who am I?” and “What am I meant to be?” Elsewhere he says, pessimistically it seems, the best a person can hope for is to see his talents and aptitudes find a receptive home in the world. 

Of course there is grave difficulty in talking about “calling” or “vocation” today because formal religion coopted its usage centuries ago, claiming there is only one authentic voice and that is God’s, all others, as some claim, are the work of the Devil. Thus to have a calling has come to mean becoming a minister, a nun, a priest, or a similar church functionary.

It’s not that calling in life is not a religious concept; it is, but the larger community has been stripped of its stake in it. And yet just a few weeks before his death, on Aug. 30, 2015, the great neurologist Oliver Sacks spoke in The New York Times of his calling.

Involved with patients subject to the weirdest neurological disorders imaginable, Sacks said he felt “a mission to tell their stories . . . I had discovered my vocation, and this I pursued doggedly, single-mindedly” (with no help from others).

Speaking of calling this way, we see it means having a destiny the outline of which comes in the vision or dream when the door opens — and may direct the person to do something monumental as relieving the suffering of others.

Getting hooked up with one’s dream was part of every American Indian’s life growing up. The community did not wait for a door to open; they shook it open. They brought the aspirant to a remote place where, through fasting and ingesting concoctions to disorient the mind, he waited for a dream to come and project his destiny. And the Indians made clear that this was not the work of a spiked imagination.

When the Moravian missionary John Heckewelder, who lived among and near the Delawares (Lenni Lenape) for more than 30 years, saw an Indian engage in deeds of extraordinary courage, he inquired of the person how he knew he would be able to handle such things. The response was that the “tutelary (guardian) spirit” that he had received in a dream was his source of strength, his guarantor of safety.

In his “An Account of the History, Manners, and Customs of the Indian Nations, who once inhabited Pennsylvania and the neighboring States,” published in 1819 — every line of which is worthy of attention — Heckewelder says initiates “were put under an alternate course of physic and fasting, either taking no food whatever, or swallowing the most powerful and nauseous medicines, and occasionally he is made to drink decoctions of an intoxicating nature, until his mind becomes sufficiently bewildered, so that he sees or fancies that he sees visions, and has extraordinary dreams, for which, of course he has been prepared beforehand.”

George Henry Loskiel, another Moravian clergyman who lived among the Indians in Pennsylvania, says in his equally-classical “History of the United Brethren among the Indians in North America,” printed in 1794, that the young man who has not received his calling becomes “dispirited and considers himself forsaken by God, till he has received a tutelary spirit in a dream; but those who have been thus favored, are full of courage, and proud of their powerful ally.” And God here means unbounded authentic inspiration.

In 2006, I delivered a paper at the annual meeting of the American Society of Criminology in Los Angeles, “To Have a Calling in Life: A Human Antidote to Growing up Absurd And, For Those Involved in the Criminology-Related Disciplines, A Sure Method of Delinquency Prevention.”

I told the gathered that I saw more than a few parents tell their kids to be their unique selves, to find their unique place in life, to do what they feel called to do but their tone said: Be a success which, when questioned about its meaning responded: Court fame, get into power, do unto others before they do unto you, be successful for yourself, it’s a dog-eat-dog world. You have to decode the texts in these messages but the meanings are there and are almost always dressed in the same nuance.

In his essay “Why I Write,” George Orwell — “Animal Farm” and “1984” do not scratch the surface — says that, if a person had a choice, “One would never undertake such a thing [in his case being a writer] if one were not driven by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.”

As Greene said: Fate strikes and it’s case closed.

In 1902, the German poet Maria Rainer Rilke received a now highly renowned letter from a 19-year-old soldier, Franz Xavier Kappus, along with a bevy of poems, asking the poet to look at them and tell him if he had something going on.

Not so matter-of-factly Rilke says the poems lack a “style of their own.” He avers, “You are looking outside yourself, and that is what you should most avoid right now. No one can advise or help you — no one.” Except maybe a tutelary spirit who comes bearing a destiny dressed in a dream?

In his search for the essence of life, his continued calling, the great Spanish mystic Juan de la Cruz spoke of calling as involving a dark night of the soul but one in which all questions are answered. “On that glad night/in secret, for no one saw me,/nor did I look at anything/’ he says, “with no other light or guide/than the one that burned in my heart./This guided me/more surely than the light of noon . . .”

Years ago, I saw glimpses of a calling during discussions of soccer scores and Mel Brooks at dinner and more so during the boy’s periodic redition regarding his station in life. I listened because I knew such things are a matter of life and death.

Post date: 
September 18, 2015

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by Frank L. Palmeri

My little brother has been a teacher for a very long time. Over the years, I know he's been very popular with his many students (he won Teacher of the Year twice, and his current students sent not one but two beautiful floral arrangements for my mother's wake).

He enjoys teaching and wants very much for his students to do well. That's a win-win situation. Or so I thought.

I recently found out that there is now a plethora of rate-your-teacher websites. This is where students, often anonymously, get to tell the world what they think of their teachers. You can probably imagine where this is going.

Yes, my little brother got rated, or should I say ripped, by some students. I think this stinks for a number of reasons.

It's obvious that any student will like some teachers more than others. That's just human nature. Each of us has specific personality types we feel more comfortable with than others.

The thing is, school is not a popularity contest; you're there to learn. Anything that helps with learning is a good thing.

I've had good and not-so-good teachers, and only rarely a truly bad teacher. No matter the teacher, if I put in the work, I got a good grade. It's as simple as that.

Now take this same formula and add publicly ripping some teacher you don't like. That's a bad recipe if you ask me.

Are there some bad teachers? Yes, of course, just as there are some bad car mechanics and some bad grocery baggers.

The thing we need to do is find a way to foster excellence in teaching; publicly humiliating them is not going to help them I'm sure.

Think about it: someone may rip a teacher for whatever reason, and someone else may read that and then decide to not take that teacher. Meanwhile, that teacher may be perfectly fine, and someone may have missed out on a really good experience because of some rant by a student who was dissatisfied for whatever reason.

I'm sure this happens and it, for lack of a better word, sucks.

When I go to buy something on Amazon.com, I, of course, look at the reviews. This is especially helpful when there are a lot of reviews and you have the time to read a good share of them.

Sometimes there are only a few to look at, with one being a five-star review, saying it's the greatest thing since sliced bread followed by a one-star review, saying it's garbage. That's to be expected because we all have different experiences and expectations; what works well for one person may not work well or work at all for another. Having a lot of reviews assures the good and bad will average out, like when ice skating judges throw out the high and low scores.

Now it's one thing for this to happen with a widget on sale at Amazon, but quite another when it happens to a teacher. Think about it: When you like a teacher, you're probably not going to seek out a website to say he or she is doing a good job. You just accept it and move on.

But, if you're disgruntled for whatever reason, you might want to "vent." Reading even some of this drivel can make the teacher look bad. That's not good at all.

At home I use the Linux operating system on my computer because it's fast, free, and technically on the cutting edge. Other people might struggle with learning to use something different, even if it is better (and trust me it is).

The point is, Linux, like some products on Amazon, or even a specific teacher, is not for everyone. This is fine, but ripping things or people that you don't particularly like is not fine. It's unproductive unless it's done constructively, and what I've read on the teacher-review websites is far from constructive.

The funny thing is I've visited my little brother (he lives in Wisconsin) several times, and have seen him interacting with students and faculty. He always gets a good reception.

I'd even go so far as to say he's very, very well liked in the academic community that he's been a part of for so long; he has a PhD. and has chaired his department for many years. That's why it was so jarring to see him get ripped like this.

The only thing I can figure is some folks just don't like his personal style, which is their prerogative. Again, we all have cerain personality types that we like more than others. But, if my brother is teaching correctly — and by all accounts he is and has done so for a very long time — then it's just not fair to rip him, or any teacher, simply because you don't like his style, jokes, or hair. How petty and stupid.

What are we going to have next, websites where our doctors, dentists, and plumbers get reviewed or ripped anonymously? Actually, I'm sure these already exist, but I don't bother to look for them.

When I find a professional I like, I stick with them and that's it. Any mature adult who doesn't have good professionals would be best served by asking around for good referrals, and not wasting time ripping ones they don't like as much. Note that I'm not saying to give crooks or swindlers a pass, just, if you don't "click" with someone right off the bat, let it go. I can see if you want to provide positive, constructive feedback, which we all can benefit from; that's a good thing. But, when it gets nasty and rude, you lose me every time.

I'm especially sensitive to teacher criticism because I've given many technical presentations over the years. You're up there in front of the room, looking out into a sea of eyes, and you have no idea what the background of each person is.

A lot of times, you just get blank stares, so now you're thinking, “Am I so technical that they have no idea what I'm talking about?” or, “Am I dumbing it down so much that they're bored to tears?”

It’s very hard to strike the right balance, and this is just for a 90-minute technical presentation. Compare that to a group of students with very different backgrounds, abilities, and expectations that you have to work with for an entire semester. That can't be easy.  

It takes me about an hour to write one of these columns, then another hour to go back and edit it, and then it's done. That's not much of a time investment, I know, yet overwhelmingly, when I meet one of my readers around town, I'm always flattered by how much they like my writing.

Now, I'm fully aware that there are others who may think this column is suitable for birdcage lining and nothing else, and that's fine as well. We all like different music, books, etc.

Thankfully, I'm not aware of anyone ripping me online like they did my little brother. What a waste of energy. Blowing off steam is one thing, but intentionally and anonymously ripping someone who is trying hard (teaching, writing, or whatever) is just punk.

I have no respect for it at all. Constructive criticism, yes; crude insults are just mean.

The question I ask myself is: If I were going to take a class now, would I look up the teacher on a review website? I suppose I would, just because it's there, but I can guarantee you I would ignore any rants or comments about looks or personality.

Rather, I'd look for anything constructive and try to base my decision on that. Yet I went through my whole academic life never worrying about what teacher I was getting, and, except for one, I never had any complaints. Even with that one, it was just a personality thing.

I still learned something and passed the class; it just wasn't as great an experience as it could have been. Not bad when you consider the many, many teachers I've had over the years.

 I wonder what it's like for a teacher who reads an anonymous bad review somewhere. Here he or she is trying to do more and more with fewer resources, trying to impart hard-earned knowledge, trying to have a positive impact on some young people’s lives, and then have to deal with getting ripped publicly. Ugh.

If it were I, I'd ignore it completely and let my work speak for itself. Life is too short to deal with such nonsense. I'm going to find and hug a teacher today, and you should, too.

Post date: 
September 18, 2015

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by John R. Williams

On Tuesday, Sept. 8, The Old Men of the Mountain trudged (like Alex Rodriguez trudges the bases) to the Chuck Wagon Restaurant in Princetown. It was a very warm morning for the eighth of September, but the OFs were there in full garb.

This has been mentioned before, that originally the OFs would gather at an OF’s home, shoot the breeze for awhile until all were there, then the OFs would head out to the restaurant of the day. The plan was to arrive around 10 in the morning.

By that time, all the people who had to start out early would have left the restaurant, and the noon crowd would not be arriving for some time, so the restaurant on the OFs’ schedule would be in a lull at this time of the day.

That plan worked well until more OFs joined the group and some of these OFs would head directly to the restaurant. These OFs had places to go and things to do so they would arrive a little earlier.

Now we have OFs waiting at the door for the restaurant to open. The group of OFs is not as laid back as it once was.

The OFs who were with the original OF group still come a little later, but other OFs are now much more active even though they are old (and as many of the OFs say “in numbers only”). It must be the meds that keeps these OGs so perky. These OFs have joined the OFs with places to go and things to do, which means most OFs now arrive pretty darn early.

As this is an ad-hoc group with a 20-page book of bylaws, the time of arrival was never entered so the OFs can show up whenever they get up and are properly dressed.

The darndest places

A few of the OFs participated in the Scottish Games held at the Altamont fairgrounds on Sept. 5 and 5. They said the fairground was cooking. The OFs should have weighed themselves before they went to the games and again after they got home. They must have shed a few pounds.

All people, no matter who they are, run into strange circumstances and in the darndest places. One OF had to go to the hospital in Cobleskill, and while there bumped into another OF who was there with both hands in bandages.

The OF with the bandaged hands showed us why they were bandaged, and told us they were bandaged for scheduled operations. The OFs were wondering about going to the bathroom and then washing his hands. That must be some kind of trick with both hands in bandages.

Then one OF said he had a very good friend who had a carpal tunnel syndrome procedure done on both hands at the same time because his friend did not want to go through the operation twice. The friend of the OF admitted after the operation that there was never a thought about the bathroom, showering, getting dressed, and things like that.

At that time, the OF said he was surprised the doctor never brought this up. The friend of the OF said the doctor never mentioned it, and it was more of a problem than originally thought. I guess the lesson is: Always keep one hand free for whatever.

Pricey tickets and goods

The OFs touched a little on baseball, and how much it costs to go to a Yankee game. Just to sit in the bleachers would cost a family of four about 100 bucks, and that is minimum.

There is the cost of getting there, food, kids would want souvenirs, and all those extras. That would be an expensive day.

One OF said, “Go see the Mets; it’s cheaper.”

“Nah,” another OF replied. “I will watch it on TV with the mute button pushed so I won’t have to listen to those commentators run their mouths.”

Everything has gone up, not only tickets for concerts and sporting events, but even those baseball caps for the OMOTM. They are now priced at about $17 to advertise you are an OF.

“Hey,” was an OG’s statement, “I am proud that I am an OF, and I’ve made it this far, so we should get T-shirts that have the OMOTM logo on it.”

“There is a T-shirt out there already,” was a comeback. “It doesn’t quite say that but it’s close. I think it says ‘Old Guys Rule.’ That isn’t strictly true. We can buy shirts that say OMOTM, but it really is ‘Old Ladies Rule’; if you guys think you are the boss in the house, think again.”

Winter’s on the way

Another topic quickly unfolded — winter!  Some of the OFs are already planning on joining the migration of other wimps who run away from winter to warmer climes.

One OF showed photographs of his new travel trailer, so new it isn’t made yet — the OF has to wait for it. These trailers are becoming real homes on wheels.  They have full-size beds, refrigerators, and electronic gadgets that open and close things, and they make them now so the trailer trails easier. It used to be that pulling a travel trailer was like hauling a load of hay to the barn (with maybe an exception of the Airstream Trailer).

One OF said, “Here it is 90 degrees and you are already planning on going where it is warmer and still 90; you’re nuts.”

Those OFs who made it to the Chuck Wagon in Princetown (because the real boss of the hacienda said, “Get out of my hair”) were: Henry Witt, Roger Chapman, Miner Stevens, Robie Osterman, George Washburn, Harold Guest, Frank Pauli, John Rossmann, Chuck Aelesio, Jim Heiser, Glenn Patterson, Mark Traver, Roger Shafer, Lou Schenck, Jack Norray, Gerry Irwin, Mace Porter, Ted Willsey, Bob Lassome, Rich Donnelly, Duane Wagenbaugh, Bob Fink, Bob Benninger, Mike Willsey, Harold Grippen, Gerry Chartier, Elwood Vanderbilt, and me with my son, Jay Williams.

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September 18, 2015

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by Michael Seinberg

— Photo by Mike Seinberg

Lemon is stretched out on his throne.

— Photo by Mike Seinberg

Sylvie guards the author’s chair for him.

By now, most readers of this column are well acquainted with the three feline folk who cohabitate with us. Lemon, Nibbler, and Sylvie are part of the family and part of daily life.

As such, we get a chance to see them in action on a regular basis and watch them and their antics. After a year of such observation, I began to realize that cats are either the quirkiest, most interesting creatures we’ve chosen to share space with or they’re just plain nuts.

So how does one determine eccentric versus crazy? Well, since we usually don’t do a very good job figuring that with people, I give us only a small chance to do it with beings we can’t even really communicate with. However, if you spend more than a few days watching cats operate, you really do wonder what goes on in their heads.

Take feeding time. They like to meow loudly, climb counters, and try to trip you, all in an effort to speed up the opening of the sacred can and filling of the food bowls. They will stand right over the dry food bowls while you attempt to pour dry food in, thereby blocking you and slowing the process down. Not what I would call signs of sanity or even overt intelligence.

They are also really messy eaters, leaving wet and dry food in a seven-foot radius around the bowl. But then they spend 15 minutes after a meal licking themselves clean with an air of purity and intensity normally restricted to surgeons scrubbing up before a heart transplant. All the while sitting amidst the cat equivalent of the food fight scene in “Animal House.”

They have a habit of watching someone go through the process of cleaning out a litter box as if they’re in charge of supervising the proceedings. “There’s a bit of poo over to the left and don’t miss that big stinker buried on the right!” they psychically beam at you.

Then one of them will saunter in, use said freshly cleaned box and look at you as if to say, “Well, what are you waiting for?” A bathroom attendant, I ain’t. But then, I suppose we all like a “fresh bowl” so to speak.

Their behavior with other living things is always interesting. When one of them sees an insect, especially of the flying variety, they’ll sail through the house in hot pursuit knocking over lamps, tearing at curtains or attempting to climb walls. Obviously, a common housefly, or stinkbug is a fire-breathing dragon in the eyes of a cat and Khaleesi is not available to exert control, so they have to.

And once they’ve actually killed said dragon, they leave the carcass in the middle of the floor, or spend the next 20 minutes batting it about like a toy mouse. From dragon to chew toy in 30 seconds. Seriously?

Their behavior with the Yorkshire terrier that lives next door is even funnier. They sit at the back door and watch him in rapt attention as he runs around the yard, the back deck, and through the gardens. If he comes up to the door in an effort to say hi, they bolt.

Except Sylvie. She occasionally slips out the back door and, if the dog is out, they begin what can only be described as a ballet of schizophrenia. The dog comes close and sniffs, maybe barks a bit. Sylvie hides in the garden and meows loudly.

The dog backs off and Sylvie slinks out and follows him. You have to keep in mind the dog weighs about the same as Sylvie and is very friendly. Eventually they stare at one another, obviously confused as to the next step in their courtship.

“What the hell kind of cat is that?” thinks Sylvie.

“What the hell kind of dog is that?” wonders Jameson.

At least they don’t have any need to ask one another about religion or politics.

As our guys are strictly indoors (except for Sylvie’s aforementioned jail breaks), they don’t get the chance to roam the yards like a pride of lions combing the veldt for a stray antelope. However, they perch on windowsills with great fervor, studying every living thing that passes by as if they could knock it down with secret eye lasers. As if…

Water is generally considered a problem for cats, but not our Sylvie. After one of the pink people (us) finishes showering, she’ll push the bathroom door open, stroll in, and hop right into the wet tub and just sit. I once tried to turn on the shower and she lit out like I’d attempted to roast her alive. Then the next day she was back in the tub.

She likes the faucet, too. If I’m washing dishes, she’ll jump onto the counter beside me, sit down and supervise with great attention to detail. But, if I flick water at her or pet her with a wet hand, she is gone.

So I guess you could say the jury is out on the issue of cat sanity. I’ve seen other writers attach great swathes of prose to what must be going on inside the minds of cats. They usually suggest they’re long-suffering prisoners bent on world domination while dogs are happy-go-lucky doofs with the IQ of a tennis ball.

I’m not sure I agree as Minnie, our old Chihuahua, was anything but doofy. I’ll just have to continue my observations like Dian Fossey and her gorillas. Kitties in the mist. More like kitties in the shower….

Editor’s note: Michael Seinberg says he is looking into the possibility of funding further cat-sanity studies by uploading a video of the cats attempting to use a Kitchenaid mixer; Sylvie is asleep in the bowl though, so production has ground to a halt.

Post date: 
September 15, 2015

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by John R. Williams

The first day of September this year was on a Tuesday, and, through a haze mixed with fog, some OFs had to use their windshield wipers (on their way to the Duanesburg Diner in Duanesburg) in the early morning because of the temperature inversion. 

The flood of Tropical Storm Irene four years ago (almost to the day) is still causing problems. Some of the localities have seen some improvement and a lot of work has been done but most of this work was done by people helping people.

To recover from all the havoc caused by this storm, it is easy to understand that complete recovery from Irene, like the complete recovery from Katrina, may never happen. What about all these other natural catastrophes all over the planet? Is “recovery” a good word at all?

This discussion was brought about by the work that has been halted on the little Schoharie creek because the work was not being done to specifications, or maybe the contractor was doing what he thought was right but the oversight was poor and the contractor was never made aware of all the mistakes that were being made.

What prompted this dialogue came from the OFs who live in Schoharie County.  They are concerned about how the county is going to raise the $10 million to finish this work. The population of Schoharie “tain’t that big McGee.”

How old is an antique?

The OFs talked a bit on a subject they know well, and that would be antiques, especially if something 50 years old is being discussed.

Many people call a particular item an antique. The OFs call them “well-used” because the OFs are antiques themselves and they probably used the item when it was new.

To the OFs, this is not an antique. An antique to the OFs has to be at least 100 years old.

Replacement parts

The OFs included cars in this conversation and how many cars have gone by the wayside. One OF said he thought manufacturers had to make replacement parts for cars for only seven years. The OF wasn’t too sure about this but he seemed pretty sure.

Another OF said he thought that it depended on what the object was. “That meant,” the OF said, “if you owned a car made in 2008, it was not necessary for the manufacture to manufacture parts for that car now.”

This is going to send the scribe on a little research trek.

This scribe started looking (googling) into this allegation, and by using the words “seven year requirement on parts” found that this phrase is so ambiguous that even using it as a generic term is not too smart. This scribe found that, in looking (googling) up the information, it is so convoluted a Philadelphia lawyer would have problems, and also probably would give up, as this scribe did. 

The OFs started mentioning a few of the cars that they remembered, and some of the OFs had these vehicles, or their parents did, and neither parents nor vehicles are still around. These  include Nash, Hudson, Packard, Studebaker, Auburn, Hupmobile, LaSalle, and more.

Modern names are gone too, i.e., Oldsmobile, Plymouth, Saturn, Pontiac, Mercury, which are a few of the later-year car models. The OFs think they might have even missed some because one OF said that they had a Maxwell, and another a Graham Page.

One OF said, “Remember the Jack Benny show, and Rochester driving the Maxwell?”  

How about the White and Reo trucks?  They were good old, dependable farm trucks. 

One OF said, “Throw in the makes of tractors that have disappeared and we have quite a list of major business that have either been gobbled up by other companies or have just closed the doors.” A lot of household names of companies have come and gone in 70-plus years, and many of these were large companies too.

Historic sites

The OFs chatted about the Old Stone Fort in Schoharie and how some of the OFs have just completed jobs around the fort that they volunteered for. Many historical places need these types of volunteers because they represent what and how this area came to be.

Unfortunately, many are under-funded but very important to our local history. In addition to that, only a small section of the populace is even interested in going to these places and supporting them.

The OFs, as stated, are antiques themselves so therefore can equate to the plight of many of these historical sites, locally and around the state. The OFs are all underfunded, and can comprehend exactly what these sites are going through. Some OFs have to apply for a grant so the OF can purchase a new set of bibs. 

The OFs can remember $5 jeans, 10-cent coffee, a quarter for a gallon of gas, and, in 1940 or so, a four-door Ford sedan was about $700 brand new. Then one OF interjected the following: “I remember making 50 cents an hour and that was good.”

Another OF said he moved up and was given a raise to $88 every two weeks. “On that,” the OF said, “we went out and bought a house.”

This OF said he and his wife said, if they ever made $100 a week, they could live like millionaires. 

Restaurants return

The OFs were once concerned that eating establishments on the hill were disappearing but that is now not the case. The OFs talked about two great places to eat on the hill, which are the Township Tavern on Route 146, and Maple on the Lake — the old Scholz- Zwicklbauer’s Hofbrau on Warners Lake Road.

One of the OMOTM plays music on the deck of the Maple on the Lake. So what’s left has been resurrected.

Condolences

The OMOTM would like to offer their condolences and sympathies to Duncan Bellinger and his family on the passing of his wife, Shirley, after 57 years of marriage. 

Those OFs who made it to the Duanesburg Diner in Duanesburg, where the fine breakfasts that came from the kitchen prompted the talk about food, were: Roger Chapman, George Washburn, Robie Osterman, Miner Stevens, Karl Remmers, Roger Shafer, Dave Williams, Bill Bartholomew, Jim Heiser, Chuck Aelesio, Glenn Patterson, Mark Traver, John Rossmann, Harold Guest, Jay Taylor, Bob Benac, Joe Ketzeka, Lou Schenck, Jack Norray, Mace Porter, Gerry Irwin, Bob Fink, Bob Benninger, Ted Willsey, Duane Wagenbaugh, Rich Donnelly, Bob Lassome, Mike Willsey, Gerry Chartier, Harold Grippen, Elwood Vanderbilt, and me.

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September 15, 2015

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by John R. Williams

— Photo from John R. Williams

Gearing at the head of these dehorning clippers lets them open and close with ease; they are not rusted shut. “The square head bolt, with a square nut have been long gone,” says John R. Williams. The clippers are among old farm tools bought by one of the Old Men of the Mountain.

The Your Way Café in Schoharie was the restaurant under attack by The Old Men of The Mountain on Tuesday, Aug. 25.

Many of the OFs arrived at the Your Way Café at the same time Tuesday morning; four or five cars entered the parking lot just about simultaneously. The OFs unfolded out of their vehicles like most OFs, slowly, and with purpose.

The OFs greeted each other with the congenial “Good morning (enter name), you’re looking good this morning.” Most of the time that was true but there were the occasions when it was a lie.

This is similar to the OF’s reply when other OFs ask, “Hey (enter name), how ya feelin’?” or, “How ya doin’?” The standard reply from the OGs is generally, “Great,” or, “Top shelf,” or, “If I felt any better, I would be dead.”

As a rule, this is a bunch of malarkey, too. Most of the OFs have aches and pains too numerous to mention so listing them all would take way too much time, so “I’m fit as a fiddle” will do.

Old farm tools

An OMOTM breakfast would not be complete if the OFs did not discuss farming. Tuesday morning, the OFs discussed dehorning cattle (mostly cattle); no one mentioned goats or other animals with horns. However, this dehorning is also a practice with them, especially when goats get rambunctious.

What brought this up was the piece of information from one OF who bought perhaps a couple of wagon loads of old farming equipment and one of the items among the “stuff” was an old pair of dehorning shears.

These types of shears are still being used for dehorning today, along with saws, wire, and caustic chemicals. The saw of choice today is a “Sawzall”; however, back in the OFs’ day, it was a hacksaw.

No matter what, farming is a bloody business.

Great Depression recalled

Tuesday was the first morning after the big drop in stocks, and some of the OFs said their spending cash will be a little short, but none of the OFs seemed really concerned. As one OF mentioned, he has so little in the stock market that it doesn’t matter which way Wall Street goes — up or down.

Many of the OFs remember the Big One (Depression Era: 1929 to 1939) and how eventually it took World War II to get us out of it. During World War II, the whole country experienced the process of government rationing.

This was not too hard to take because the rationale of the Depression and not having anything anyway just carried over into a different word for not having anything. Only this post-war time there was money around, but during rationing the OFs had nothing to buy.

Many of the OFs went through this time in our nation’s history, and as one OF said when explaining this part of the home front’s effort in World War II to his grandkids, they had no idea what he was talking about.

The OF said, “What do they teach in school today?”

Another OF said “They teach them how to land a Rover on a moving asteroid that is not very big and it is moving at least a gazillion miles an hour.”

The USA wasn’t the only country that was affected by the Great Depression. It was worldwide.

This recent market drop supposedly started in China, but the OFs say this country has so much Chinese money loaned to us it won’t last long. Another OF said, if they ever ask for their loans back from our country in a hurry, the good ole US of A is in deep do-do.

Computer advice

The OFs who have computers were talking about the “new” operating system, Windows 10. The OFs who do not have Outlook Express think it is great, and in some respects those OFs who do have Outlook Express agree, saying that many aspects of 10 are like Windows 7.

One OF said he still has Windows 7, to which another OF said, “Keep it.”

One OF recommended that, if you have Outlook Express, don’t take Windows 10 until Microsoft arrives at a solution to that problem. It really screws up the email as it will not open any hyperlinks.

Parrott House redone

The OFs realize that The Enterprise is geared to Guilderland, the Hilltowns, New Scotland, Slingerlands, parts of Delmar, and not much to the other side of mountain into Schoharie and that area. However, the OFs’ circle of schools was Berne-Knox-Westerlo, Schoharie, and Middleburgh.

Those who are familiar with this bit of geography know of the Parrott House in Schoharie, and the problems it has been having. Finally someone has taken over this building and appears to be doing extensive work on the structure.

One OF reported that it is being completely gutted all because of the flood from Tropical Storm Irene in 2011. The antiquity of the place, including the bar, has been taken out.

The OFs who are familiar with this situation say that is sad because, if refurbished, the character and history of the Parrott House, once again, could result in quite a tourist attraction for the county.

On the other hand, maybe, if it were clean and new, the Parrot House could start a history of its own. This scribe, as on OF, can see one dining room devoted to the original history of the hotel, and another dining room devoted to history of the hotel after the flood, including pictures of the flood.

The Old Men of the Mountain who were able to make it to the Your Way Café in Schoharie, and bring half their breakfast home to their wives, were: Chuck Aleseio, Roger Shafer, Miner Stevens, Dave Williams, Bill Bartholomew, George Washburn, Glenn Patterson, Mark Traver, Roger Chapman, Robie Osterman, Otis Lawyer, John Rossmann, Harold Guest, Frank Pauli, Bill Lichliter, Bob Benac with his guests Kaleb Bsandoin, and Skye Benac, Rich Donnelly, Bob Lassome, Duane Wagenbaugh, Bill Krause,  Charles Jones, Jay Taylor, Art Frament, Joe Ketzeka, Lou Schenck, Gerry Irwin, Mace Porter, Jack Norray, Bob Fink, Bob Benninger, Duncan Bellinger, Don Wood, Joe Becker, Ted Willsey, Mike Willsey, Gerry Chartier, Harold Grippen, Elwood Vanderbilt, and me.

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September 4, 2015

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