Archive » April 2017 » Columns

by John R. Williams

This week, the Old Men of the Mountain managed to meet at the Country Café on Main Street in Schoharie on Tuesday, April 18.

At this breakfast, we were taken care of by a new waitress who apparently was not familiar with the OMOTM. When the first eight or 10 of the OFs arrived at the Country Café and had seated themselves, the waitress came, introduced herself, and asked what we wanted to drink.

She had a carafe of regular coffee in her hand, then asked who wanted coffee; the answer from the OFs was a typical OF answer. Out of eight or 10 OFs, some wanted regular, some wanted decaf, one wanted ice water, and one wanted OJ. The waitress was about to find out there is nothing simple when dealing with old people.  

After taking care of the early risers’ coffee requests, the waitress asked a normal chit-chat question. “Just what do the Old Men of the Mountain do?” she asked, pointing to the OMOTM caps on some of the OFs.

In unison, like singing a song, the OFs replied, “Nothing; we do absolutely nothing.”

This took the new waitress back a little — here is a group of OFs that get together and do nothing. The long and short answer is: Yep — you got it; nothing is our thing; “we do nothing” is our motto.

However, we do have a 22-page set of bylaws to keep everything civil and on track so doing something does not get in the way of our nothingness.

Springing into spring

Many of the OFs are actively getting ready for spring. This includes making sure all the small engines that are used during the spring, summer, and fall are in good working order and will start when they should. When all these little engines are put together, an individual OF will have quite a few.

There are the lawnmowers, the weed whackers, the chain saws, the leaf blowers, the rototillers, the tractors, the debris pumps, a generator, and who knows what else that has some little engine attached to it — plus, in the winter time, it is the snow blower.

As mentioned in previous columns, we have a few OFs who repair small engines; one in particular performs small-engine repair as a business. This OF is now putting people on a list that is two weeks out because he is so busy.

This OF must be really good at his job because his hands look like a surgeon’s hands. They are clean and not all nicked up with cuts and bruises

Tools of the trade

This led the OFs into talking about tools of the trade and how OFs who do a lot of woodworking, metalwork,  hobby and craft work, or work in the woods, have much better tools, and the right tool instead of the OF who does it only once or twice a year with a hammer and a crowbar.

The crowbar will be three times larger than required, or the OF will need one three times larger than the one he is using. The same goes for the hammer, or maybe the saw with teeth that are as smooth as the back of the saw.

The OF said that, having the right tool for the job, and having that tool in good condition, is key to making any job fun and easy. One OF said it cuts down on a lot of cussing and swearing, nicks  and bruises, trips to the doctors’ and hospital, and finally wasted time and a good reason for divorce.  

Shenanigans

The OFs talked a little bit about what they did to make a living when they were younger. If some of the shenanigans that went on at work were true, it is a wonder many of the OFs weren’t sacked.

Within this conversations were snippets of what may have precipitated the shenanigans. One was politics where one OF described an attempt to imitate a German accent on an employee (where he worked) opinion of politician’s work ethic even then as trick and swindle. This may or may not be true but seems to be a common trait today by some.

The other which brought agreement (and this scribe realizes this is in the paper) ,they didn’t trust the press then, and even less now.

One OF added, “I don’t know about you guys but I worked the farm; the hours were long, the work was hard; I was the boss and the hired hand. I didn’t pay any attention to either of them. If I had any free time, the wife and I would go to a farm auction or a square dance.  Life was simple and fun but at the time we did not know it.”

Head-scratching

This scribe does not know how many topics of conversation at the table get started or when they end, so this causes much head-scratching at the computer to figure out how to interpret some of the notes on this scribe’s little pocket pad. If the notes are truly in sequence, the OFs went from the topics above to Easter dinners and what to do with leftovers.

Food for thought

One OF described in much detail what was done with the leftovers at his place. This OF said after the meal they prepared the leftovers so they could be used for many meals later on.

They took the ham and cut all the meat off the ham and left the bone for making soup. They took the slices from the ham and prepared them for sandwiches. They took the meat close to the bone and cut it plus they used the ham sauce to be part of the ingredients for making macaroni and cheese.

If enough was left from that, they placed chunks in plastic bags for ham salad. The mashed potatoes were pre-prepared for making potato pancakes. The OF said in the morning they would cook up the potato pancakes, fry up some eggs and bacon, plop them on top of the pancakes and that is good eating!

One OF said, “It sounds like you had a meal with a 10- pound ham for only three or four people. At our place, after we pass out some paper plates for some to take home, there is not much food left over for leftovers.”

Maybe the OFs should sit down with the wife and write down some of their recipes, and special meal preparations, and  even include some of the OFs parent’s recipe collection and make their own OF’s cookbook.

That could be a collection of recipes going back to around 1885 plus, with the ages of the OFs, that would be a collection of recipes that would be doggone healthy, because we made it to be OFs!

Those OFs who made it to the Country Café in Schoharie because of the healthy eating of days gone by were: Miner Stevens, Harold Guest, John Rossmann, Robie Osterman, Bill Lichliter, George Washburn, Dave Williams, Chuck Aelesio, Ray Frank, Otis Lawyer, Jim Heiser, Ted Feurer, Wayne Gaul, Rev. Jay Francis, Ted Willsey, Jim Rissacher, Jack Norray, Mace Porter, Lou Schenck, Gerry Irwin, Mike Willsey, Gerry Chartier, Herb Bahrmann, Elwood Vanderbilt, Jess Vadney, Harold Grippen, and me.

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April 27, 2017

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by Frank L. Palmeri

One time when I worked for a savings bank, I had to drive “Mrs. K,” a bank vice president, to an event. She was mature, prim, proper, and well dressed all the time, but that didn't stop me from tuning the car radio to my favorite rock station.

Just then, the classic rock instrumental anthem “Jessica” by the Allman Brothers Band came on, and Mrs. K said something I've never forgotten: “I don't really like rock music, but this I like.” She was a good egg.

In case you’ve never had the pleasure, “Jessica,” a staple on rock radio stations, is a seminal Allman Brothers tune from 1973. It's so ingrained in our culture that, even if you don't know it by name, once you hear it you'll almost certainly recognize it. It features Dicky Betts on guitar, and was named after his daughter.

Being that “Jessica” is so wonderful and well known — a true “national heirloom” according to the Wall Street Journal — every time I meet someone named Jessica I always ask her if she’s heard it. Nurses, dental assistants, waitresses — once I meet a Jessica, I pop the question, as it were, and just about every time I'm looked at like I have two heads. Sigh. Is this what getting older is like?

These Jessicas that I query are usually in their twenties, just like my own two daughters. That means their parents are around my age. Conceivably the parents know the song “Jessica,” at the very least. Maybe they didn't name their kid after the song but still.

If you are my age and know the song and then name your daughter the same name, you think you'd at least tell her about it. Then again, even though “Jessica” is basically an American standard at this point not everyone likes rock music. Still, once even people who don't like rock, like Mrs. K, hear “Jessica,” they immediately like it. It's that kind of song. You can't not like it.

I try not to be all wrapped up in my phone all day like everyone else, believe me, but the other day when a young nurse named Jessica claimed she'd never heard the song I whipped out my phone and pulled it up on Spotify. Just like that in the doctor's office we're all groovin' to the Allman Brothers.

Of course, once she heard, it she recognized it. I would hope that all the Jessicas in the world would be just thrilled to share their name with such a beautiful tune.

The funny thing is, if I try to hum the tune, it only makes it worse. The melody is very distinct, and I think I can hum it, but my musician wife looks at me cross-eyed when I do it. How frustrating is it to hear something so clearly in your head — I mean, I must have heard “Jessica” hundreds of times — and yet I can't even come close to it by humming. That's pretty sad.

This doesn't happen to me only with the song “Jessica.” I was so shocked that my brilliant engineer son-in-law had never heard of “Mr. Ed,” the classic TV show about a talking horse, that I bought him the box set. Now, whenever I visit my daughter, we put on an episode and I can't stop laughing.

But it's not only “Mr. Ed.” If I added up all the great shows the so-called “generation Xers” have never heard of (“Laugh In,” “Hee Haw,” “Get Smart,” and so many more) I'd go broke buying box sets.

Have you ever heard a World War II veteran talk about dancing with his honey to Big Band music? Think about a guy sitting in a wheelchair or holding a cane, waxing poetic about something that you have no way to relate to. I know this happens.

Well, I was lucky to get a free subscription to satellite radio when I got my new truck and they have a ’40s channel. Let me tell you, Big Band music is some wonderful music. Glenn Miller, Artie Shaw, Gene Krupa — it's really, really great.

To have come back from the war and found yourself in a big dance hall, having a blast with your best girl must have been something. I'm glad our many veterans got to enjoy it back then and still have those memories now.

If you've never heard the song “Jessica” — and especially if your name is Jessica — do yourself a favor and have a listen. You'll be glad you did.

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April 27, 2017

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by Michael Seinberg

If you want to become a submariner, you have to get through the Navy’s basic training. Then you have to apply to enter the submarine service, pass a lengthy series of psychological screening tests and aptitude tests, and then undergo specialized training. This makes sense. You’ll be, potentially, manning billions of dollars worth of sophisticated technology with the real potential to do enormous damage.

So, you’re wondering, what point am I making? It occurred to me that we put a great deal of time, energy, and money into screening and training a lot of people in our society. And yet, the people in charge are not screened, tested, vetted, checked, or in any way monitored to determine whether or not they should be in charge. Take Congress, as a prime example.

There are only three requirements to be a member of Congress: You must be 25 or older (30 for the Senate), be a United States citizen for at least seven years (nine for the Senate), and you must be an “inhabitant” (as opposed to inmate) of the state where you’re elected.

I’m sorry; I know several aging dogs and cats that could qualify (if you go by dog/cat years). I mean seriously, these folks make big salaries, get amazing benefits, and can even be convicted felons and still serve.

And where’s the after-hire evaluation? Who is holding these folks to their campaign promises? Who keeps track of how many new laws they got passed or how many good projects they got funded?

But getting back to my original point, I think it’s high time we began to screen potential elected officials. We’re all sick of corrupt politicians voting based on campaign contributions, lobbying efforts, or just straight-up bribes. They abuse every perk and on the rare occasions when they get caught, they either get away with it, or get convicted and still keep their pensions and jobs. Really?

A person working at McDonald’s who pulls a dollar out of the register and pockets it would be fired on the spot and likely charged with a crime. How does Mickey D’s have higher standards than Congress?

From now on, anyone who wants to run for office (any office) must pass through the following set of checks, tests, and screenings. First, if they’ve been convicted of a crime (felony or serious misdemeanor), they’re disqualified.

Next, a psychological screening is done by a qualified mental-health professional to see if the candidate is sociopathic or psychopathic (most chief executive officers, many lawyers, and more than a few surgeons are, it turns out). Also, they need to be mentally healthy, not raging narcissists or megalomaniacs (sorry, Mr. Trump).

Finally, several members of the clergy of different faiths should interview the person to determine their moral health. Please note, this isn’t to find out if they’re pious; they fake that all the time.

No, the idea here is to see if they actually understand the difference between right and wrong. Bribes are wrong, voting in a manner that represents your constituents is right. Sending genital pictures via cell-phone is wrong, treating women with dignity is right.

And finally, they have to answer a simple, but critical question: Why do you want the office?

The science-fiction author Robert Heinlein once wrote that anyone who sought the office of president should be immediately disqualified from holding it. Kurt Vonnegut said, “There is a tragic flaw in our precious Constitution, and I don't know what can be done to fix it. This is it: Only nut cases want to be president.”

If authors can figure this out, then we should all rethink whom we elect these days. Some folks say we get what we deserve, and, when you look at the sad state of voter turnout and registration, maybe that’s true. Some people have suggested that, if more people voted, we’d have better representation, as the folks in office now were rarely, if ever, elected by an actual majority of eligible adults.

Right now, many folks are appalled by the behavior of the current president and his crew, and for good reason. None of these people are qualified for their jobs. Actually, most of them aren’t qualified to be dogcatcher.  A retired brain surgeon who lies in his autobiography; a failed CEO; a climate-change denier in charge of the Environmental Protection Agency; and, of course, the ego in chief who has gone bankrupt how many times?

Politics has been disreputable, dishonorable, and dysfunctional for as long as anyone can remember. It’s ruled by crazy people, paid by greedy people, and has nothing to do with the democracy. So let’s start elevating the level of candidates and I’ll bet things improve.

So, Mr. Trump, Mr. Pruitt, Ms. DeVos, can any of you tell us what the term “ethics” refers to? No, Mr. Mnuchin, not whatever you can get away with. Sorry, Mr. Trump, your hair does not constitute a platform (though it could be a structural member). Uh, Mr. Bannon, put down that kitten and back slowly away and, no, you may not kick that puppy.

Editor’s note: Michael Seinberg says he has been watching politics and politicians for the last few decades and noted that things have gone downhill — a lot.

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April 20, 2017

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by John R. Williams

The next stop on the clock for the Old Men of the Mountain was Tuesday, April 11, at the Middleburgh Diner in Middleburgh.

This was a beautiful morning; a little after 6 a.m., most of the OMOTM noticed a beautiful sunrise starting in the east, and a full moon to the west, which was encased in a pastel yellow-orange glow, and was sharing in that sunrise. Then those OFs headed off to meet with other OFs for breakfast at the Middleburgh Diner and have a laugh or two — what a great way to start the day.

One of the OFs lives so close to Warners Lake that, when the OF gets up, his feet are in water. He told a story that took place about this time of year. The Canada geese are returning for their summer stay in the locale of the OF’s.

For many of these geese, it is not far from their winter gathering places. These geese now make their way to Cornwall, Cornwall-on-Hudson, Carmel, and Lake Carmel where they are really not welcome because they make a mess of just about everything.

One OF who made business calls in that area said, when pulling into a parking lot that was by a pond, he stepped out of the car and was surrounded by geese. The OF then would have to walk in a 10- to 12-foot circle of geese all the way to the door of the main office building that he was calling on.

Back to the OF with the geese at Warners Lake. This OF said the geese landed on the lake and overnight the lake froze with a skim of ice and most of the geese got out OK. However, one goose was trapped and could not get out no matter how hard it tried.

Another goose that was able to free itself watched the predicament of the goose flailing to get free. After a while, the goose that was free went over and started pecking at the ice around the trapped goose. Eventually, the goose that was pecking at the trapped goose was able to free it, and the trapped goose took off.

Then another OF picked up on the recounting of the Warners Lake event and  told how the Canada goose was responsible for our lakes, ponds, and waterways being populated with fish. This OF said that many years ago, thousands of Canada Geese landed on a very large pond that was loaded with fish. It was the beginning of winter and just like the Warners Lake situation there was an extreme drop in temperature during the night and all the geese were frozen in this large pond.

The OF said that, in the morning when the sun came up, the geese, one by one, tried to extricate themselves from the ice. This did not work and for some reason all the geese tried to free themselves at the same time.  Ultimately, the geese all took off in unison, taking the fish-laden ice with them.

The geese flew encased in ice, trying to find a place to set down and free themselves. As they flew over the lakes, ponds, and waterways, fish fell from the ice into these lakes, ponds, and waterways. These falling fish populated all the lakes, ponds, and waterways they fell into.

This OF said eventually the ice melted and all the geese were free and they separated and settled into many different bodies of water. The geese quest to free themselves from the ice took them over much of the surrounding landscape and they covered many square miles, dropping fish as they sought to fly free from the ice before they became exhausted and crashed to the ground.

The OF said, “You can thank the Canada goose for all the fish that are in our lakes, ponds, and waterways today.”

“Yeah,” one OF retorted, “I will remember that each time I have wiped the purple goose poop off the bottom of my boots.”

“My heart knows what the wild goose knows

And I must go where the wild goose goes.

Wild goose, brother goose, which is best

A wanderin’ foot or a heart at rest.”

Now there is an old song that will put our teenage grandchildren’s knickers in a knot.

Spring harbingers

There are many signs of spring like the red-winged blackbirds returning; the stink bugs beginning to show up; of course, the geese honking as they penetrate the sky; some of the early flowers poking their heads through the snow; and the peepers.

Most of the OFs heard the peepers for the first time Monday night. Some of the OFs thought these harbingers of spring were a little late this year.

“These little frogs are amazing,” one OF mused. “For the size of them, they make a lot of noise.”

The OF also said that, when you approach the marshy area where they are peeping, they all shut up at the same time like someone turned off a switch. Then, the OF said, he walks a certain distance away from them and they all start in again. The OF said he has placed a stick in the ground from when the peepers stop, and where the peeping starts again and looks for some kind of trip wire.

At night, when the peeping usually stops, there are generally a few frogs that did not get the message and they do a few little individual peeps and then it is quiet.

The OFs able to break away from the beauty of the sunrise/moonset at the same time and make it to the Middleburgh Diner in Middleburgh were: John Rossmann, Harold Guest, Marty Herzog, Roger Chapman, Bill Lichliter, David Williams, Robie Osterman, George Washburn, Jim Heiser, Ken Parkes, Roger Shafer, Sonny Mercer, Ray Kennedy, Don Wood, Lou Schenck, Mace Porter, Gerry Irwin, Herb Bahrmann, Bob Benninger, Bob Fink, Mike Willsey, Elwood Vanderbilt, Ted Willsey and chauffeur Denise Eardley, Harold Grippen, Gerry Chartier, and me.

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April 20, 2017

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by Linda Miller

Each April, our organization, Community Caregivers, celebrates National Volunteer Month with a luncheon and program with a guest speaker. We like to think (although you would need to a confirm this with one of our volunteers) that we appreciate Community Caregivers’ volunteers year-round. About 50 volunteers usually attend this fun event, which this year is on Wednesday, April 26, at the Hampton Inn in Albany.

Treating each volunteer like a treasure is also in our best interest; our service model of “neighbor helping neighbor” is totally volunteer-driven. While our professional staff offers program guidance, day-to-day help is generously provided by volunteers. We encourage Community Caregivers volunteers to serve on schedules that fit into their busy lives.

Nationally, we know that 62 million Americans — about one-quarter of the adult population — volunteers during a given year. We also know that that percentage has fallen off a bit in recent years: volunteerism reached its peak in the years following the 9/11 attacks.

Locally, we still find the desire to serve community and fellow citizens in need to be strong. We offer volunteer orientations twice a month in our office and other sessions upon request.

Individuals may find us through word of mouth, or often, through The Altamont Enterprise. We also have a partnership with the Service Learning program at Albany Medical College where future physicians volunteer with us.

We seek to work with area employers, like the State Employees Federal Credit Union that offer release time for their employees to volunteer during the work day. In addition, Community Caregivers participates with our local RSVP program, which places volunteers age 55 and older in interesting and varied volunteer roles at agencies throughout the Capital District.  

If you or someone you know wants to know more about volunteering with Community Caregivers or wants tips to get started volunteering, please feel free to contact me at .

We really hope that you can find the way that is right for you to give back to your community.

Community Caregivers Inc. is a not-for-profit organization that provides non-medical  services including transportation and caregiver support at no charge to residents of Guilderland, Bethlehem, Altamont, New Scotland, Berne, Knox and the city of Albany through a strong volunteer pool of dedicated individuals with a desire to assist their neighbors.

Our funding is derived in part from the Albany County Department for Aging, the New York State Office for the Aging, and the United States Administration on Aging. To find out more about our services, as well as volunteer opportunities, please visit www.communitycaregivers.org or call us at (518) 456-2898.

Editor’s note: Linda Miller is the Outreach and Education coordinator for Community Caregivers.

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April 20, 2017

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by Greg Goutos

— Photo by Greg Goutos

All smiles: Ruth Cawley, right, is awarded a raffle prize bay Amélie Ribesse, an exchange student from Belgium who attends Guilderland High School.

— Photo by Greg Goutos

Wearing red jackets, Guilderland High School Key Club members, Victoria Nemeth and Kayleigh Chamberlain, serve an Italian dinner to Omni resident Rose Lundgren.

GUILDERLAND — The 16th Annual Italian Night at the Omni was held on Saturday, April 1. The event was sponsored by Community Caregivers, a not-for-profit organization based in Guilderland.

Over 50 residents of the Omni Senior Living Community on Carman Road in Guilderland enjoyed a complimentary three-course Italian dinner, served by several students from the Guilderland High School Key Club. Staff members from the Caregivers’ office and other volunteers assisted with the food preparation and the serving of the meal.     

This year’s theme was “Spring is in the Air.” The Omni community room was decorated with colorful banners, and each table had a vase of daffodils to brighten everyone’s spirits. After the meal, Omni residents took the flowers back to their rooms.

The evening began with the introduction of Mary Therriault, one of the co-founders who started the Community Caregivers organization in Altamont in 1994. She welcomed the seniors and talked about the types of services the organization offers that might benefit them, as well as ways they could get involved, such as serving as volunteers.

Community Caregivers, located at 2021 Western Ave. in Guilderland, provides non-medical services to Albany County residents by matching local volunteers with nearby clients.

After dessert was served, the seniors waited in excited anticipation to hear if their names were called out to receive one of the many raffle prizes generously donated by area businesses. A special moment for all was to have the prize handed out by Amelie Ribesse, an exchange student from Belgium who attends Guilderland High School.

We would like to acknowledge the efforts of the 13 volunteers who participated, with a special thank-you to Key Club students Victoria Nemeth and Kayleigh Chamberlain, as well as Amelie Ribesse.

Staff members from the Caregivers’ office who helped coordinate the event and prepared portions of the meal, included Mary Morrison and Petra Malitz.  Also involved were Nancy Griffith, Mary Therriault, Tom Morrison, Sandra, Mary DeAngelis, and Nellie and Greg Goutos.

Special recognition is due to Mary McGann, the Omni resident who has helped as the on-site coordinator for the event for the past several years.

Much of the food for the dinner was generously donated by area restaurants. We especially acknowledge The 99 Restaurant on Wolf Road for its ongoing support. Also, thank you to Bountiful Bread and to Stewart’s for their contributions.

Raffle prizes were donated by these local businesses: Carman Wine & Liquor, Robinson’s Hardware, Candy Kraft, The Book House of Stuyvesant Plaza, Pizza Gram Plus, Marotta’s Towne Pizza, Bamboo Chinese Restaurant, The 99 Restaurant, Price Chopper/Market 32, Hannaford, and The Altamont Enterprise.

For more information about Community Caregivers, please contact the office at (518) 456-2898, or online at communitycaregivers.org.

Editor’s note: Greg Goutos is a Community Caregivers volunteer.

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April 13, 2017

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by Dennis Sullivan

—  Faithful reproductions of two-dimensional public domain works of art are public domain

John Keats made this drawing of an engraving of the Sosibios Vase in about 1819. It is currently displayed at the Louvre.

April is National Poetry Month. For some rhymed souls it is a time to dig out their Mary Oliver and scan a line or two while others sit quietly in their dens hoping the Muse will come and fill their pen with delight.

While such activities are most appropriate during the month when “Lilacs [are breeding] out of the dead land,” as T. S. Eliot says, that is not the purpose of its observance. It’s more complex.

National Poetry Month was established by the Academy of American Poets in 1996 to goad each person in its country to accept responsibility for engaging poetry at an intimate level and to recognize that poetic consciousness is key to spiritual growth and development.

In a way, the month must be seen as one of the 30-day retreats the Jesuits run when people gather unto themselves to assess to what extent they’ve dedicated their lives to the proposition that “Beauty is truth, truth beauty.”  

Those words appear in the second to last line of John Keats’s classic “Ode to a Grecian Urn” written in 1819. And the last line of the poem says, and I’ll paraphrase it here, that that axiom is all a person needs to know in life: beauty is truth and truth beauty.

It is quite a bold assertion and one wonders whether, for example, the mandates of the New Testament might fit into that. But that’s a no-brainer because the New Testament in its own metaphorical terms says the same thing.

The great T. S. Eliot found the Keatsian proposition troubling. In an essay on Dante he veered from his subject for a minute to note, “The statement of Keats seems to me meaningless.” Truth is Beauty and Beauty Truth “is grammatically meaningless” he said. But for a guy who considered himself smart, it’s surprising that Thomas Stearns took such a reactionary road.

He’s not alone. If you go to the Internet and ask for an analysis of the second-last line of “Ode to a Grecian Urn,” you’ll find a lot of other people similarly irked.

Of course we can turn to Buddhism for an explanation — and a case can easily be made — but I’ll offer Carl Rogers, that great-20th-Century-full-of-insight-beyond-innovative psychotherapist who hit the nail on the head in his 1957 essay “To Be That Self Which One Truly Is.” The title is found in Søren Kierkegaard’s “Fear and Trembling.”

In that essay and elsewhere, Rogers describes what takes place when a person goes through the therapeutic process. He says, first of all, that, when a person comes to him suffering from unknown reasons, their inner conflicts have progressed to the point of disablement. The sufferers find themselves being eaten from within.

He says that in their own terms the sufferers reveal that they had tried every possible mode of denial and deceit to smother the truth but all failed and now they were at a dead end.

Rogers goes on to say that, when his patients come into the office, sitting right beside (or more correctly in front of) them is a façade, a wall they’d built to hide their true state of being, from others as well as themselves. But they unable to lay their weapons down.

He said he noticed that such folks also tend to view the world in black and white. Reality is this or it’s that. Transgendered people, for example, have no standing in that denier’s universe. It is far too complex a matter to juggle behind the façade.

But Rogers says that, once the patient feels at home, he begins to dig through the lies that lay beneath his pain. And in doing so he begins to experience a whole range of feelings and thoughts he never knew he had.

Understandably during their sessions the patient weeps, rages, even falls into a stupor of silence because what he said out loud took their breath away. The truth at first is dumbfounding.

But once the patient confronts fear (the word “ugly” can be traced to fear) and acknowledges the truths revealed, he incorporates the new dimensions to make himself whole.

The patient experiences great relief, and often joy, because he is no longer living a lie. As truths about the self are discovered he begins to dismantle the façade a brick at a time.

Rogers also saw, and his patients soon see it too, that hiding behind untruth requires the expense of great energy. Masquerading costs. Plus the patients admit that while undercover they viewed themselves as despicable and ugly because they were treasonous. They had equated not beauty but mask with truth.

Read Rogers’ essays, he alludes to the disdain people feel for themselves when they constrict themselves to living behind a pharisaical wall. His 1961 classic, “On Becoming a Person: A Therapist’s View of Psychotherapy,” is a great place to start.

But what’s heartening about the process of unveiling, of opening one’s heart to the truth of is, to the thing in and of itself, is that a person begins to see a radiant beauty in himself. “Then the body of the Enlightened One,” as Anagarika Govinda reports in his “Foundations of Tibetan Buddhism,” “becomes luminous in appearance, convincing and inspiring by its mere presence.” Truth is Beauty.

Indeed, looking upon, experiencing, the wondrous creation of the radiant self, the peregrinator laughs with gratitude because he cannot figure out why he ever agreed to live a life of abstraction.

He sees that experiencing a thing — one’s person — in and of itself, without modification for political economic or other self-enhancing reasons, is beauty.

And when the person begins to recite this experience to the world he dons the mantle of the poet. In spiritual terms the person enlightened begins upon the path of sainthood, the realm of overflowing silence.

Keats was no idiot. He knew what he was saying. That is why we are grateful for Poetry Month, to remind ourselves that we need to put our house in order, the house of Truth, the house of Beauty. No more needs to be said.

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April 13, 2017

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by John R. Williams

When the fish head upstream to spawn, Salmon River in Pulaski, New York is lined with fishermen. As the Old Men ate breakfast beside a swollen creek, they reminisced over fishing expeditions — including at Pulaski.

Tuesday, April 4, the Old Men of the Mountain met at Kim’s West Wind Diner on Route 145 in Preston Hollow.

The OFs who took the long way around on the flats, made better time than the OFs who came over the mountain. There was quite an elevation fog that made the mountain trek much slower. Generally, over the mountain is a nice way to get to the diner because the views coming down the mountain from Rensselaerville are spectacular.

This question was asked by one OF: Why is Preston Hollow here? This scribe found little information, the population as of  the 2010 census was 366 souls, down from the 2000 census, which showed that the roads were trodden by only 748 human feet kicking up dust.

It seems that a fellow from Connecticut, Dr. Samuel Preston, settled here in 1789. Why? Beats us.

Then, four years later,(Dr. Sam must have lived like a hermit), in 1793, along came Henry Couchman who found the nearest mill was in Leeds by Catskill — that’s a hike from Preston Hollow — and the nearest apple tree was in Schoharie — again, another hike. The connection between the two points again beats the OFs,.

However, Henry did purchase a bushel of apples from the tree in Schoharie and brought them to Preston Hollow and started an orchard. This is about all you could do here because there are hills on both sides of the Catskill Creek at Preston Hollow; actually from Middleburgh to Catskill along Route 145 there is really very little flat land — the mountains are like a vertex of an isosceles triangle at the creek.

Fish tales

With the creek running pretty full in back of the diner, one of the topics at the table was fishing, and the opening day of fishing this year. Unfortunately, none of the OFs at my end of the table were out casting their lures in the water this year.

“At 27 degrees outside, I’m staying in,” one OF said and the others concurred. Leave it for the kids was the consensus of the older guys.

However, then they began talking fishing stories, mostly fishing the Salmon River around Pulaski, New York. One of the reasons for taking this trip, according to OFs, was that, not only was the fishing great, but it was an easy drive, and did not take too long.

One OF mentioned how slippery the rocks are on the banks of the river and it is a good idea to have spikes on your waders. This scribe is not a fisherman so he had no idea spikes came with waders. If this scribe were walking with spikes on slippery rocks, the first thing this scribe would do is fall in. Spikes on wet rocks did not seem to compute.

The OFs who fished the Salmon River did fall in at one time or another. One was carried downstream a few yards and did not drop his pole. Which comes first, drowning or saving your fishing pole?  In this case it looks like drowning wins out — save the pole.

One OF fell in and his waders filled with water so he was entirely soaked and the OF did not bring extra clothes. He said he was soaked from head to toe and froze the rest of the day. The lesson learned here was: Even if the OF was going fishing only for the day, it would be good to bring extra everything (in the way of clothes) just in case.

In Pulaski, the salmon fishermen are lined along both sides of the river for miles, and in the river there are islands. One OF said lots of fisherpeople go out to the islands to fish. However, when on an island and hearing a siren going off, it is not a fire, it is time to clear the islands because the water is going to rise.

When the siren does goes off and you don’t clear off the island, then the fishermen on that island can plan on spending the night there, and on some of the islands those who did not heed the warning will have to scurry to high ground. One OF said there you are on that island, in waders, no porta-johns and you are going to be there for the next 12 to 15 hours.

What becomes of the fish that are caught the OFs didn’t say. The OFs never mentioned bringing coolers to bring them home, or if the salmon were even any good. To hear their stories, even when they fall in or get soaked, it sounds like all the OFs that head to the Salmon River to fish have a lot of fun.

This scribe’s only contact with fishing was taking his kids fishing (years ago) and this scribe spent the rest of the day untangling lines and baiting hooks; in the winter, it was digging holes in the ice and setting up tip-ups, plus freezing, so never once has this scribe cast a line. However, the “kids” who are now adults in their fifties still fish. Hmmmmm.

The OFs who made it to Kim’s West Winds Diner in Preston Hollow and watched the rushing brown water of the Catskill Creek come very close to the back of the diner were: Bill Lichliter, Robie Osterman, George Washburn, John Rossmann, Richard Frank, Roger Chapman, Harold Guest, Chuck Aelesio, Don Wood, Ray Kennedy, Sonny Mercer, Karl Remmers, Bob Snyder, Otis Lawyer, Mark Traver, Lou Schenck, Jack Norray, Gerry Irwin, Mace Porter, Wayne Gaul, Ted Willsey, Jim Rissacher, Mike Willsey, Pastor Jay Francis, Elwood Vanderbilt, Gerry Chartier, Henry Whipple, Bill Rice, Harold Grippen, Mike Willsey, and me.

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April 13, 2017

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by John R. Williams

On Tuesday, March 28, (thank goodness this month is almost to the end) the Old Men of the Mountain met at the Hilltown Café in Rensselaerville.

The following OF report will be from notes that did not make previous reports because this scribe has one of the hardest colds he thinks he has ever had and so he did not make the breakfast.

One reason was because he had so much Coricidin in him that the drowsy bit was really working; the other reason was that he would not want any of the other OFs to catch it, for some of these old codgers it would do them in and the scribe would feel really bad about that because this scribe now hates to get dressed up.

Horning: A lost art

This scribe is going back to March 7, on a topic of buzz saws. One of the unusual uses of a large 36-inch buzz saw was at a horning. The OFs have conversed many times about what we used to do in the forties and fifties that was considered fun but would have the OFs arrested today.

When young couples got married in small country towns generally a horning was planned. This was not a secret to the young couple because they may have participated in a few hornings themselves. They also knew that when the horning was to happen was a closely guarded secret. The Pentagon could take lessons on how well the farmers handled this secret.

The young married couple would take part of their wedding money to prepare for this event. The OFs remember having a damaged buzz saw hung in the machinery shed on a farm just for this event. The night of the horning, the buzz saw was put to good use.

The saw was placed on a pry bar, or a length of heavy-duty pipe that was brought to the horning location. Two guys would hold up the saw and another guy would pound on it with a good size hammer. Big Ben would not ring through the night as loud as the buzz saw’s ring.  We have long and fond memories of these (now obsolete) gatherings.

Country noises

This next subject we discussed, and was found in our backlog of topics, is one not used from Jan. 31, and the note in the book is just noise. This scribe remembers what this was about but does not remember how the OFs came to talk about this.

The feeling that people say they are going out to the quiet of the country are in for a rude awakening, especially when the milking machines start running at four in the morning, and the milk truck makes its first stop around 5:30 or 6 a.m.

The country is not quiet. The noises are different — balers pounding, tractors running, blowers whining, belts slapping, fans whirring, and all kinds of other unexpected noise. Then there are the noises of the night. It is just like the city only different. There does come a time at night when the country becomes eerily quiet, and those not familiar with this sensation wake up wondering what has happened.

Musings on metrics

February 14th was a discussion on the metric system versus our fractional system. The OFs wonder why the whole world can’t be one or the other.

Why hasn’t the United States ever converted to the metric system? Short answer: It’s complicated.

One OF mentioned that Thomas Jefferson tried to convert us to this quite a few years back and it never took hold. When they attempted to have the United States go to the metric system, it ran into many problems.

The OFs were taught a smattering of metric at one time, but so little that it soon was forgotten about. Now there seems to be more metric labeling and equipment built overseas that incorporates some metric; however, just some of it is rubbing off on the OFs.

“Today,” one OF said, “if you are going to do any mechanical repairs, it is necessary to have two sets of tools: one metric, and one fractional.”

“Yeah,” another OF said, “when looking at a nut that I think is ¼ inch but half the time it turns out to be 6 mm.”

Another OF commented that he had put a bucket on a John Deere tractor he owned; the tractor was metric, and the bucket turned out to be Wentworth, which measured sizes in inches. What a mess that was. The OF said the bucket and attachment’s fasteners had to be taken out, holes re-drilled, and Helicoils (a metric coarse thread repair kit) were put in with fractional threads.

One OF said, when we ship overseas, we have to use the dang metric system but, when they ship goods over here, they use metric, and not our fractional system, which makes for a very unlevel playing field.

Yep, what they are doing is by osmosis so that eventually this country will go metric. Doctors talk metric, i.e., it is a 2-liter bottle, and speedometers now have both metric speed and fractional speed per hour.

“It will be a long time before it is complete — if ever,” one OF said. “Look at all the old tractors and hit-and-miss engine clubs that are around. Old cars and trucks that people keep running will still be fractional.”

Another OF said he would never get used to 34-26-34 being 91.44-56.04-91.44 cm., or they might just call it 92-57-92.  What a shame when they change that!

The Old Men of the Mountain who met at the Hilltown Café in Rensselaerville, and this scribe has no idea how they got there but at least they did, were: Robie Osterman, George Washburn, Glenn Patterson, Mark Traver, Chuck Aelesio, Marty Herzog, Bill Lichliter, Otis Lawyer, Harold Guest, John Rossmann, Mace Porter, Jack Norray, Gerry Irwin, Ted Feurer, Herb Bahrmann, Wayne Gaul, Lou Schenck, Jim Rissacher, Mike Willsey, ( with guest Amy Willsey), Gerry Chartier, (with guest Winne Chartier), Elwood Vanderbilt, Richard Frank, Harold Grippen, and not me.

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April 6, 2017

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by Michael Seinberg

This must happen to everybody. You’re sitting at your computer, working, and a cat climbs into your lap.

“Hi, I need ear scratching please,” says the cat.

So you pull one hand from the keyboard and start scratching. Purring commences and the little furry head lazily turns to the multiple screens. And you know what comes next. Yup, politics.

“Who is that guy with a cat on his head?” asks the suddenly curious feline.

“Umm, that’s the president.”

“Why is a cat sitting on his head? Is he cold a lot? Wait, is that my old buddy Teddy from litter-box school?”

“Well, no, that’s his hair. Litter-box school? You went to school for — never mind.” The cat climbs out of the lap and over the keyboard to view the screen more closely.

“No way, that’s a yellow cat on his head.” So you switch to a photo showing his hair blowing around in order to prove it’s hair.

“Wow, that poor cat is getting blown all over!” exclaims the now disturbed feline.

“Really, that’s not a cat, it’s just the guy’s hair. Well maybe a hairpiece,” you venture, trying to calm things down. The cat stares a little longer and climbs back into your lap.

“More scratching please.” Typing one-handed is slow. But purring can lower your blood pressure.

You’re sitting on the couch with an iPad in your lap when a large cat jumps onto the couch, slides into your lap, dislodging the iPad, and looks up at you.

“Some full-body petting please.” So you move the iPad over, switch it to CNN and proceed to stroke the cat from head to tail and loud purring commences. After a bit the cat turns to the news.

“Why does that man look so angry?”

“Oh, that’s the president’s spokesman and he’s talking to reporters,” you explain trying to get the concept of a press conference across.

“But why is he so mad? He keeps yelling at those people every time they ask a question. By the way, scratch under my chin please.” So you scratch the chin and the purring resumes.

“Well, some people think he’s angry because he doesn’t like what he’s told to say.”

“By who? Who tells him what to say?”

“The president, you know the guy with the cat on his head?”

“Why doesn’t the president talk then? Why make the guy so upset? And why is he chewing so much gum?”

“Well the president is too busy to talk all the time and they worry that he might say the wrong thing if he tried.”

“And he probably has to hold still so the cat stays on his head too.” Right. Cat logic.

You’re at the kitchen table having lunch and watching MSNBC and a cat jumps into the chair beside you. The cat looks at your sandwich and then at you. “You going to eat that whole thing?”

“Well, yeah that’s why I made it.”

“OK, just checking. I mean, I don’t want you to overeat. It’s not healthy you know.”

“This from the guy who inhaled breakfast and barfed it on the carpet. Thanks for your concern.”

The cat looks up at the screen inquisitively. “Why are those people arguing with each other. They’re all talking at the same time and you can’t understand anything. It sounds like a cat fight I saw yesterday by the library.”

“Those are members of Congress from different parties arguing over health-care reform. They have different opinions. The guy at the desk is a newsman and he’s trying to calm them down.”

“Parties? Yeah, they must be drunk to be shouting like that. If he wants to calm them down, can’t he just shoot them with a dart or something or maybe slip them a Valium? Worked for my Aunt Maude after she got fixed.”

“No, political parties. Groups of people who have different philosophies. The ones on the right think everyone should have easy access to health care and the other ones think they should make tons of money.”

“What does one thing have to do with the other? If you’re sick you go to the people vet, right?”

“We do, but not everyone can afford to without insurance.”

“Insurance? Do we have insurance for the vet?”

“No, but we can get it if we want to spend a lot of money.”

“Oh, so the insurance companies get rich but people get healthy?”

“Not really.”

“You know; you people make no sense at all. And why is that one guy so red in the face? Does he need a vet?”

“That’s Mitch McConnell and yeah, he definitely needs a doctor of some sort.”

“So, you done with that sandwich?” And you pick the chicken out and give it to the cat as he makes far more sense than the TV.

Editor’s note: Michael Seinberg says he talks politics with all four of the family cats regularly. He hasn’t finished a sandwich in months.

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April 6, 2017

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