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It was an unbelievable Tuesday morning on Oct. 18. Some of the Old Men of the Mountain were at the Country Café in Schoharie in shorts and sandals. All were in short sleeves later on as some came with jackets but removed them when it became really warm as the morning wore on.

Global warming was dismissed because, the OFs said, we have been here before (meaning the temperature) but wearing shorts and sandals in the Northeast in the middle of October?  

Some of the OFs said they are stocking up on ammunition, and some are upgrading their guns. These are OFs who are hunters, and a few are avid hunters. The OFs feel that this sport will be taken away along with many of our other freedoms as time goes on.

“But,” one OF said, “how long do you expect to live?  Why are you even worrying about it? The revolution has already started — get me off this planet. I don’t want to go through all the hassle of learning Chinese or Arabic.”

Greetings

A few of the OFs come up with clever ways of answering greetings of the day with salutations that are really funny. A couple of weeks ago, one was reported as the greeting.

This week the retort was in reply to a greeting. The reply was, “Oh I am better now, but I have been worse.”

That sums it up in a nutshell for the OFs — we are better now but we have been worse.

Respect for our flag

Thanks to one OMOTM, the OMOTM are handing out six American flags in small wooden stands to all the restaurants the OMOTM visit.  The restaurants can use them in their table settings, or they can give them to other people who visit their restaurant, or they can take the flags home for themselves.

The OMOTM not only appreciate and respect the flag, but also all the restaurants that put up with us on Tuesday mornings.

No aid to hearing

Over and over again the OFs discuss hearing aids; some wear them to the breakfast but have to turn them off. It seems that virtually none of them work in these situations.

It makes no difference if the hearing aids come from Wal-Mart, or a real high-class hearing-aid place where a hearing aid is no larger than a quarter and can cost thousands of dollars. To the OFs, neither one works any better than the other.

One OF who has nerve deafness, and it has impaired his hearing since he was a kid, said that, when he was inducted into the Army, they gave him a hearing test. The nerve deafness, of course, showed up but that did not deter the military from conscripting the OF.

The OF said, “And where did they put me?  They trained me and made me a radio operator!”

To which the other OFs said, “Radio operator? A deaf guy as a radio operator?”

“Yep,” the OF said. “It was a good thing that deafness is all that it was; if I had bad vision, they probably would have put me in the Army Air Corps as a pilot.” (Scribe’s note, you can tell our ages by our use of the term Army Air Corps, the forerunner of the Air Force.)

No why required

Some of the OFs attend auctions, or go to flea markets. Many of the items that go up for sale at auctions or are on tables at flea markets, the OFs use on a routine basis at home. Tuesday morning, the OFs talked about some of the acquisitions they have recently purchased.

“Why,” some of the OFs inquired, “do you buy all this old junk?”

Like many things in life, why the OFs do this or that does not have much of a rationale — the OFs just do it. To the OFs, it doesn’t require a why.

Where are the bugs?

The OFs were commenting on the lack of bugs this year, and the lack of hornets. A few stink bugs, a few lady bugs, no earwigs; ants are still around but seemed normal.

Maybe it is our location; maybe other areas are inundated with bugs but for the Hilltowns and surrounding areas not much. This is at least by observations of the OFs, and we all know how that goes since the vision or hearing of this group could be greatly improved upon.

“However,” one OF said, “maybe my glasses are thick, but I know when I get stung, or bit, and that has not happened this year.”

Another OF mentioned that the honey bees seem to be more prevalent than the last couple of years, thank goodness. The OF said that, on his walks, the white and blue pearly everlastings were humming with bees.

One OF offered the suggestion that it might be because of the mild winter. These bugs kept waking up, and then got put back into the deep freeze so frequently that they had no time to reproduce, and, when or if they did, the young froze before they could develop.

But, then again, that is just a guess; what do I know? Only that we need bugs if we are going to have birds to help pollination.

Pirate ship in dry dock

Briefly mentioned were pirates and pirates’ ships, due to the interest of one OF. The OFs were not concerned about treasures or treasure maps, just the pirates, and their ship, and maybe the “plank.”

The ship has reached a point in construction and has apparently stopped. This may be that the interest of Captain Jack has waned, or the “Black Pearl” is lying on the bottom of the sea cavorting with the “Little Mermaid” and not bringing in any plunder.

Either way the OFs’ pirate ship still sits in dry dock.

The crew for the pirate ship showed up this morning at the Country Café in Schoharie and they were: Miner Stevens, Bill Lichliter, Harold Guest, Roger Chapman, George Washburn, Robie Osterman, Chuck Aelesio, Glenn Patterson, Mark Traver, Otis Lawyer, Richard Frank, Roger Shafer, Ted Feurer, Wayne Gaul, Sonny Mercer, Ray Kennedy, Lou Schenck, Mace Porter, Jack Norray, Bob Fink, Bob Benninger, Marty Herzog, Jim Rissacher, Warren Willsey, Mike Willsey, Gerry Chartier, Elwood Vanderbilt, Randy Foretuin, Harold Grippen, and me.

Located in northwestern China, the great city of Xi’an — pronounced “she-ahn” — like hundreds of other cities in China, exhibits an exhilarating mixture of ancient and modern.

In former times, marking the eastern end of the Silk Road, the city boasts hundreds of super-modernistic office buildings and apartment towers, though many stand empty — the result of China’s desire to put to work as many people as possible, without considering the fact that many of its citizens either cannot afford these high-rise digs or simply have no desire to live 50 stories above the ground.  From a distance, modern Xi’an may look like a backdrop for a scene from a Star Wars episode — especially at night, when great numbers of the buildings feature light shows that out-do Times Square at New Year’s Eve.

But surrounding the central part of the city is a great wall — not the Great Wall, but a massive fortification nonetheless — built during the Ming Dynasty in the 1400s, which is a powerful reminder of Xi’an’s history. Starting around 250 B.C., Xi’an became the capital of China under Qin, the country’s first Emperor.  Qin had conquered the other kingdoms that lay within the landmass known today as China, though evidence suggests that there was continued and often violent resistance to Qin’s autocratic and self-indulgent rule.

Guarded by jutting towers and with a scattering of beautiful Buddhist shrines situated strategically on its extensive esplanade, the wall protects what was once the central part of the ancient capital.  Hundreds of crimson lanterns — lighted at night — hang from golden posts along the wall and sway in the wind, seeming to celebrate the new (if still limited) freedom that has come to China.

Today Xi’an has expanded far beyond the area enclosed by the wall and out onto the vast Plain of Guanzhong that surrounds the city and is dotted with shrines and tombs of Qin and the other emperors who dwelt here during the early years of united China’s turbulent history.

The Plain of Ganzhong covers hundreds of square miles and is formed by the conjoined floodplains of the great Wei River and seven other rivers and streams. Floodplains by definition are subject to disastrous overflows and in modern times a system of dams and levees protects the city.  But over millennia, repeated massive flooding of the rivers has left thick deposits of clay and silt covering Ganzhong, which has now been left high and dry as a result of a dropping water table.

Aware of his own mortality, Emperor Qin made a bold decision — one on a par with the great pharaohs of Egypt such as Djoser, Khufu, Seti I, Ramses II: He directed his subjects to build for him a massive tomb, surpassing in size and grandeur the tombs of all of the petty warlords whom he had defeated in his quest to unite China under a single power: himself.

Thus, some miles from the city of Xi’an there arose on the Plain of Ganzhong an enormous tomb whose location is precisely known: Looking like a low, gentle hill, it stands covered in soil and foliage, visible for miles.  But legends of its contents have cautioned archaeologists to put off opening it, as the current state of archaeological science may not be up to meeting its challenges. And so there the great mound stood for years, while around it, farmers went about their business.

Until 1974.

In that year, a farmer and some helpers were hand-digging a well, working their way down through the thick sand and clay sediments. They were down only a few yards when fragments of ancient bronze spears and pottery began to turn up; had they dug only a few feet in a different direction they would have missed them completely.

The diggers notified government archaeologists who continued excavating and soon made a stunning discovery: a life-sized terra-cotta head staring at them from out of the muck. Continued careful digging revealed that the entire body of the figure attired in minute detail as a warrior was there as well, albeit in fragments requiring reconstruction.

To call this discovery “the tip of an iceberg” would be a colossal understatement.  For as excavations continued, more full-sized terra-cotta warriors began to turn up, first by tens, then by hundreds, and eventually by the thousands. Today they number over 7,000 and are displayed in a vast hangar the length of two football fields that covers the yawning pit in which they stand in 1000-foot-long phalanxes, appearing as though they are awaiting marching orders.

Each was attired differently from his companions and each was apparently an individual portrait of a foot-soldier.  Most of the figures had been shattered in ancient times and required careful reconstruction, the result of the upheavals that followed the death of Emperor Qin in which rebellious subjects vented their anger against Qin’s extravagance.

In recent years, two additional pits have been opened, containing life-sized horses in battle gear and chariots along with soldiers of higher rank — lieutenants and generals — as well as archers and spearmen: the elite of the Terra-Cotta Army of Emperor Qin.

The term “terra-cotta” is Italian and means simply “baked earth.”  It is an extraordinarily inexpensive and common material:  those reddish brown flower pots on your porch and patio are terra-cotta, and it is commonly used for pipes, roofing tiles, and bricks as well.  It is derived from common clay, a material found everywhere water has been ponded.

Extensive deposits occur on flood plains — upon which much of the city of Albany stands — and they underlie large stretches of the Schoharie Valley as well. A quick glance at the enormous number of structures in these areas built from brick confirms the presence of great quantities of clay.

Terra-cotta has been used for artistic and building purposes from ancient times, and terra-cotta statues, tiles, pipes, and sarcophagi from all over the Mediterranean world show the material’s easy availability and adaptability.  Sometimes the baked clay is glazed or painted, but more commonly it is left with its natural fired-appearance: the quintessential “earth-tone,” derived from the presence of iron compounds in the clay which oxidize during firing.

But then of course the question arises: Why on Earth is the vast terra-cotta army there at all?

The answer lies in the concept the early Chinese — as well as other ancient cultures — had of an afterlife.  If cultures conceived of personal survival beyond the grave, many of them considered it simply an idealized form of the best of life on Earth.

Wall paintings in the tombs of such people as the ancient Egyptians and the Etruscans depicted the deceased happily indulging in many of the same activities of the living, though with far greater levels of enjoyment and productivity.

But some peoples like the ancient Egyptians also believed that the deceased might be called upon by the gods to work in their fields and vinyards, and to save the dead the exertion bodies were buried with wooden or faience figures called “ubshabti” — often by the hundreds — that were expected to come to life in the next world and take the place of the deceased in whatever work the gods dictated.  Qin could immerse himself in an indulgent life-style in his palace in Xi’an with full expectation that following his death, the feasting would go on forever.

Yet from all evidence the court of Emperor Qin was also a place of internal political struggles — tales of attempted murders, poisonings, and forced suicides have come down through the years, undoubtedly embroidered upon as the passage of time will do. There were also constant military threats from the recently conquered provinces whose subdued inhabitants were not enthused about being part of Qin’s recently patched-together empire.

And of course, there must have been many malcontents under his rule who were unhappy to see the empire’s wealth being squandered on Qin’s extravagant whims at a time when — like today — many citizens lived in squalor.  Thus when he planned his magnificent tomb, Qin apparently made the decision to see that it was well guarded against marauders from both inside and out.

And so in the flat stretches of land surrounding the tomb he had his artisans create his terra-cotta army, ready to spring to life should the god-like emperor’s rest be in jeopardy from enemies either outside or inside his kingdom.

What else may hide beneath the soil near Qin’s tomb and the tombs of other emperors that lie nearby — some with brutal reputations and tastes as luxuriant as Qin’s — remains unknown.  More recent excavations have found the graves of large numbers of men and women who were interred at the same time as Qin and the horrifying evidence is that they were buried alive.

Perhaps they were captured enemies doomed to serve as slaves to Qin in the next world;  perhaps they were to serve as companions to the dead emperor in the afterlife; or perhaps they were killed because they knew too much about the secrets that lay within and around Qin’s unexcavated tomb rising a mile or so from the pits of the terra-cotta army.  How ironic that so much stunning artistry was created under circumstances that speak of so much misery.

And yet — and yet — to look at the hauntingly beautiful individual figures with every item of clothing and footwear rendered in exquisite detail is to come face-to-face with men long dead whose demeanor projects a startling calm and dignity. It may be that the look was mandated by the emperor’s undoubtedly intimidating control.

But perhaps the soldiers really believed that in having their likenesses preserved in terra-cotta — a humble material given the touch of glory — they could share Qin’s luxuriant after-life.

The town hall in Guilderland transferred its offices from the building in this story that was on Willow Street and had, since 1847, been the first two-room schoolhouse District 4. It is one of the most historic structures in town and had been originally one room.  It is now occupied by New York State Troopers.

Edward W. Chesebro became the principal of the new school in 1847. Here are some of  Chesebro's comments about his pupils from a letter dated Feb. 21, 1847.

"I am still plodding on the pedagogical path....such an ignorant school, ignorant of all the first principles of elementary studies, I think never was collected together before in Christendom. I have 97 different pupils. My compensation is $1.50 per scholar for the term of 72 days and board myself." ( This would amount to about $2 a day for the graduate of the second class of the Albany Normal School).

Chesebro goes on, “They are about the most respectful scholars I have ever had, and are the best disposition of scholars yet, yet how lamentable all this ignorance, I have gratification to know they are advancing in some of their studies quite rapidly, particularly reading, grammar, arithmetic.

“This school has an average of about 70.  Since I have taught here,  I have had about 97 different pupils. The District has 166 children aged between 5 and 16 years.  I have a class of  41 in the ‘Village Reader’ — half reading one morning, and half the next. I have a class of 15 in 'Child Guide' which reads once a day;  two classes in 'First Reader' which read semi-daily, one to myself and one to my assistant.

“I have a class of 12 pupils who commenced at the foundation and have arrived at the dignity of 'reading.’  I have three classes in arithmetic, the first in 'Perkins,’  the second in 'Smith's.’  I have two classes in grammar, and three classes in geography.

“Besides these,  I have a class of  a dozen to whom I lecture upon ‘Natural  Philosophy’ two evenings a week.  The space of an hour after school Wednesday afternoon is appropriated to general exercises; that is, we have no lesson and I talk to them on geography, give them a lesson on drawing, exchange pictures, have a lesson on normal chart, singing and composition and reading.

“Wednesday the boys meet and have declamation. And so we go — a burdensome job. My assistant is Miss Rhoda Ann Jackson from Seward, Schoharie Co., who attends school as a pupil.”

Before the two-room schoolhouse was built on Willow Street, an earlier schoolhouse stood on the site, built in about 1800.  It is referred to by an earlier author, who was born two doors north on Willow Street when the town was called Dowesburg.

He was Henry Rowe Schoolcraft, son of Major Lawrence Schoolcraft,  and cousin of Congressman John L. Schoolcraft whose house on Western Avenue is now being restored by the town.

Henry Rowe Schoolcraft wrote the poem  "Iosco" that included:

 "Village schoolhouse,  youth's most dear essay

  with ruddy gleam arose besides the way,

  But waning years, and fortune's iron frown

  With slow decay have struck the mansion down;

  And where it stood, the late increasing moor

  Had scattered thistles ’round the fallen door."

Henry Rowe Schoolcraft became an explorer, geologist, discoverer of the true source of the Mississippi River, and Indian Agent for the United States territory at St. Sault Marie. He was a great authority on American Indians and wrote several books on the topic.

The story is long and full about the complete Schoolcraft family in the town of Guilderland. The key that opened the door to the school that both Henry and John Schoolcraft attended is pictured with this story.  This historian is still looking for it!