Archive » October 2018 » Columns

Tuesday — and the month of October is almost gone because it was the 23rd of the month when the Old Men of the Mountain met at Mrs. K’s Family Restaurant in the center of the town of Middleburgh.

It is fun and encouraging to see the OMOTM filter into each restaurant and see they are still OK and ambulatory. The early morning chatter was on the subject of the morning entrances because we have a couple of OFs who are not able to make it. Concerns for these regulars who are having a tough time was deep and heartfelt.

Here it is October, and the OFs haven’t even had a chance to go trick-or-treating (using their own ugly faces as masks) nor have they even had a chance to put out the Thanksgiving decorations and they were talking about Christmas. This scribe feels it is Madison Avenue brainwashing and what brains the OFs have left fall right into it, including this scribe’s.

Many of the OFs are giving up traditions that used to be looked forward to with happy anticipation. Now it all seems like work.

One of these “traditions” was burning wood. Some of the OFs are chucking it in and are not going to burn wood any more. A few of the “younger OFs” who have wood lots are still going to heat with this renewable fuel source.

Of course they would; except for the time, fuel, and equipment, it is free. (English: a simple, but confusing language. For instance “Would wood be the answer to build those shelves?” is just one such English example.) The cost of a cord of wood today is another reason the OFs named for giving up heating with wood.

According to the OFs in this discussion, a cord of wood is about the equivalent of 100 gallons of fuel oil. A cord of wood today, according again to the OFs, is from $300 a full cord to $240 or $270 a full cord.

Now, one OF said, it is approaching, and in some cases exceeding, the price of fuel oil and with fuel oil the supplier pumps it in the tank, and the furnace burns it. All the OF has to do is change the filter every now and then.

“Look at what I have to do to burn wood,” the OF continued. “I have to stack it, store it, haul it in, put it in the stove, burn it, haul out ashes, make sure they are dumped in a safe place, and clean the chimney every now and then. The glamour is gone,” the OF said.

Trees fade away

Now comes Christmas and the Christmas tree! Here too, the OFs said, the kids are gone, and there are still the grandkids, but with many of the OFs, the grandkids are ready to be parents themselves, and some are.

This leads to the demise of going out and getting a tree. Taking the kids out in the snow to cut a live tree was an integral part of Christmas.

Later on, putting up the big seven-foot artificial tree (after the kids left home) was the next step. That, too, became a lot of work, and just finding a place to store the big tree was another hassle.

Some missed the nostalgic feeling of the tree, real or not, and hanging all the ornaments, but it finally broke down to all the work involved in hauling all these ornaments out of the attic or basement, and putting them away.

One OF thought this was part of the fun and they really decorated the tree and the house for Christmas. Then, the OF said, after the kids moved all over the country, they cut way back on their decorating.

However, the OFs said, they still get the urge, and still have most of the stuff. But this OF said he is ready to join the others with the three- to four-foot table trees. Only a few of the OFs said they have no tree at all now. It is quite a tradition, and business, too, for that matter, that the Germans started years ago.

Winning ways

The huge lotteries out there right now were a lively topic the OFs discussed. “What would you do?” the OFs asked each other, “if you won all that money?”

The OFs basically had no idea. Most said they would spread it around the family, and donate it to their favorite charities, or church.

Some of the OFs had their own lottery-winning stories. One OF said that a friend of theirs from high school days moved away and became quite wealthy on their own. They won a big lottery, in the millions, and, before even accepting it when, the taxes could be taken out, winnings were immediately donated —  half to a hospital where they worked, and half to some charity (the OF forgot which one).

Because they never accepted the winnings and all the money went to charities, the state was not able to tax it, the friend said. This OF doesn’t know if it was maintained or not, or if the state was able to wrangle their paws around what they say is their share.

The OF said he never followed up on that point. It would be interesting, now that the OFs were talking about lotteries, to see how that would work in New York, or if any state would have in place a sneaky little law or rule just to cover this to make sure the state got its chunk of the pie.

Of all the OFs at one end of the table who discussed the lottery, none of them said they would share it with the Old Men of the Mountain, and all OMOTM who attended the breakfast at Mrs. K’s in Middleburgh were: Harold Guest, Wally Guest, John Rossmann, Bill Lichliter, Robie Osterman, George Washburn, Roger Chapman, Jim Heiser, Mark Traver, Glenn Patterson, Joe Rack, Jake Lederman, Wayne Gaul, Roger Shafer, Jack Norray, Herb Bahrmann, Mace Porter, Lou Schenck, Duncan Bellinger, Mike Willsey, Gerry Chartier, Elwood Vanderbilt, Allen DeFazzo, Harold Grippen, and me.

By the way, this year, everyone is the same age. Take the year you were born, add your age and the answer is 2018. Try it with any age 75, 25, or 5 years old. 1932 plus 86 = 2018.

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A beautifully restored 1933 M.G., like this one, was a standout at a huge car show recently attended by some of The Old Men of the Mountain.

Finally! A Tuesday when it wasn’t foggy, with rain or drizzle, hampering the drive to whatever restaurant was on the list for Tuesday.

This past Tuesday, it happened to be the Middleburgh Diner in Middleburgh, and still a couple of carloads of Old Men of the Mountain were left wandering around the hills because of unexpected detours, twisting the OMOTM around. As one OF put it, it is election time and some the roads are being fixed or at least patched.

At Tuesday morning’s breakfast, some of the OFs reported on a boat trip they made up the Hudson River from Coxsackie to Albany on one of the OF’s boats. From their report, the weather was perfect and a great day for boating.

This was rare; the OFs said we have not had many of these lately. The captain of this crew said one of the OFs took the trip for just what it was supposed to be. He sprawled out on the back seat and took the whole seat up for the entire trip.

He did perk up when they were passing a huge beautiful yacht. The OFs had quite a time reporting on how large this yacht was; the OFs said it was painted gold.

It was also, according to these OFs, decorated in the Art Deco style, and was being piloted by a couple who apparently considered clothes optional. It was that aspect that perked up the old gent in the back seat.

The captain reported he was unable to partake in this short show because at the time they were passing the yacht there was a tug boat approaching and he had to navigate the waters with the swells from these larger boats, and he was trying hard not to run into either one of them.

When cars and phones were simpler

This gets so redundant but, with a bunch of OFs, it is to be expected. Again, some of the OFs attended a huge car show in Pennsylvania.

And to these OFs the hit of the show was a 1933 M.G. This was beautifully a restored vehicle. To the OFs, one would think it would be something more upscale that caught their eye.

One OF said that when he was younger — much younger — sports cars were his thing, The OF said that he went through the ranks and graduated to a Jaguar XK 120 CM (coupe modified), which is a vehicle he should have kept, but being young, “What did I know?” the OF asked. That car could be his retirement today.

Another OF said we all have cars we would like to get back. The new ones may be nice, but they don’t seem to have any character. Another OF brought up that he thinks that goes for just plain older folks — not only for vehicles but other items also.

Then one old goat said, “Don’t go into the past” because he likes things the way they are now.

Some thought the OG may be right in a way because, when we were in our forties, we would always show up at the dealerships and see what the newest vehicles were and what they could do differently, etc. However, somewhere along the line things changed and the new didn’t seem that new or interesting. Then it got out of hand and we wanted the vehicle we had in the 1950s.

Another example cited was the old-fashioned rotary phone. They were easy to understand. Just insert your index finger in the hole on the dial and twist — that was it. It wasn’t necessary to go to school to learn how to use your phone.

Dealing with critters and crickets

The OFs began talking about the amount of small critters we have this fall like field mice, chipmunks, squirrels, and assorted other beetles and bugs that want to get into the house to keep warm this time of year.

One OF told of a nest of chipmunks he had in his place and, after a little patience and pest-detective work, he found where they were getting in and he plugged up the hole with a piece of tin. That, the OF said, worked for a little while, then he heard them again in the same spot where they must have returned to the nest.

This time, through the same detective work, he found they worked their way up through the cellar. It was suggested he get some live traps and haul those suckers away.

One OF suggested rat traps. Another, who spoke from experience, said the chipmunks just haul those things away and then they die someplace and smell like a dead rat.

A second OF said, “What do you do with them after you trap them in a live trap?”

The other retorted, “I’ll haul them to your place — you have 20 acres.”

“Yeah right,” the second OF said. “You start pulling that stunt and I’ll trap skunks and bring them to you.”

Oh, the comradery of this group called the OMOTM.

It went from this to trying to locate a cricket in the house, and the OFs mentioned how much damage those bugs can do once they get in. A couple of OFs agreed, but this is one of the insects the OFs said they have not seen much of lately.

A cricket in the house can be a tough one to locate even though they advertise quite loudly where they are. One OF thought they were ventriloquists, because when they announce where they are, they show up someplace else.

Grasshoppers were another creepy-crawly that an OF said he thinks are on the decline because he has not noticed many.

Those OFs who are planning on being the mighty great hunters of mice, chipmunks, and crickets and who made it to the Middleburgh Diner were: Roger Chapman, Miner Stevens, Bill Lichliter, Robie Osterman, George Washburn, Harold Guest, Wally Guest, John Rossmann, Roger Shafer, Jake Lederman, Ted Feurer, Rev. Jay Francis, Mace Porter, Gerry Irwin, Jack Norray, Lou Schenck, Duncan Bellinger, Gerry Chartier, Mike Willsey, Elwood Vanderbilt, Harold Grippen, and me.

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Paradise: The Garden of Eden was portrayed by Hieronymus Bosch in the 15th Century.

There’s a subgenre of jokes called “the three wishes,” which you might have heard from time to time.

An example is: Three men are stranded on an island. One day, a bottle washes on shore, a genie comes out and tells the men they are granted three wishes.

Astounded, the first man says: I want to go to Paris. And there he is, sitting at a table at Arpège.

The second man says he wants to go to Hollywood and immediately finds himself on a Scorsese movie set.

The third guy, feeling a bit abandoned, says: My wish is to have the other two back here.

It’s a ha-ha joke in a funny sort of way but there’s a deep side to this and all three-wish jokes that’s never looked at. That is, the jokes are a comedic form of utopian literature, here defined as the imagination envisioning a society in which the needs of all are met.

The genie acts like a supportive community satisfying the expressed wishes of the participants — except that we are led to wonder whether the wish of the last person supersedes or cancels out the already-granted wishes of his island-mates.

You might think this is a question for the political economist but it’s the kind of thing we all think about all the time. Do we think of a society where the needs of all are satisfied without grief, resentment, and dismissive disregard? We can tell by the way we talk to each other.

In the United States today, the utopia issue is far from academic because America is faced with creating a new identity out of the ashes of the old apple-pie American Dream.  

The great irony of course is that the vast majority of folk are not able to articulate the kind of society they’d like to live in: a time, a place, the kind of family they’d like, the kind of work they’d like to do. They were never given the competency to do so.

They stay away from speaking utopian thoughts, as well, because they know they’ll be laughed at. When people hear someone talking about a society in which the needs of all are met, they turn into a mocking Greek chorus and start with: stupid, insane, pipe dream! Who’s going to pay for that!

It’s strange but there’s a dimension to the human psyche — more prominent in some eras than others — that represses envisioned alternatives. Not to get too analytical but it is in fact the human community engaging in self-punishment — for failing to make good on its collective dreams in the past. It’s Adam and Eve stuff.

We see it manifested in a lack of trust for each other, in a resentment-filled allocation of goods and services, and ultimately in the adoption of authoritarian social arrangements to keep the growling rabble from getting out of hand.

We see acceptance of this way of life in an increasing number of literary and cinematic dystopias, visions of societies that rely on totalitarian or fascist-like social arrangements for survival.

Margaret Atwood’s 1985 dystopian novel “The Handmaid’s Tale” is a case in point. In the spring of 2017, it appeared in a highly-popular, award-winning television series that’s captured people’s minds.

There’s a society, Gilead, militaristic in nature, where women are owned as property. The fertile among them, the Handmaids, are ritually raped so the leaders can offset society’s dwindling population. The old story of women as sexual pack mules.

The cinematic trilogy “Hunger Games,” which appeared in 2012, is a similarly gruesome dystopia, derived from the novels of Suzanne Collins.

The society of Panem holds an annual survivalist-game where 24 young people head into the wild to stalk and kill each other until the savior-seed of the future emerges.

The 2014 film “Divergent,” a dystopia based in Chicago, also drapes a pall over our mutual aid and cooperation traits so future generations will forget they’re part of human nature.

And the young have taken to these dark visions. Harry Potter was the talk of the town for decades but in 2012 the “Hunger Games” took over. National Public Radio said teens were drawn to them like moths to a flame.

This shift in imaginative literature (and film) did not escape the great science-fiction writer, Ursula LeGuin, who died in January. She saw her imaginative-writer colleagues making a living off creating visions that feed human despair.

When she received the National Book Foundation’s Medal for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters in 2014, she said we — America — were headed for “hard times” and, to get through them, we need writers who could project “alternatives to how we live now and can see through our fear-stricken society and its obsessive technologies to other ways of being.”

The emphasis is on “other ways of being.” She said we needed more poets and other visionaries, “the realists of a larger reality,” who present societies in which people solve problems through nonviolent means, who figure out how to distribute goods and services without resentment, a society in which people generally feel good about themselves.

The United States of America today does not feel good about herself.

But, as LeGuin pointed out in her highly-acclaimed anarchist-based “The Dispossessed” (Harper & Row, 1974), even in perfect societies, imperfections arise; there’s always work to do, the struggle to be human never ends.

Ironically, while America was debating the tenets of LeGuin’s anarchist society, Anarres, in 1974 sixty-nine leaders of United States society were being indicted for acts of treason, 49 pleaded guilty to selling out the American Dream. Their president escaped on a helicopter.

Two years after “The Dispossessed” appeared, Marge Piercy’s brilliant “Woman on the Edge of Time” arrived. In Piercy’s utopian society, Mattapoisset, no one would ever think of putting women into subservient roles or making them structurally dependent. In Mattapoisset, mothers, nobody in any family, are to be enslaved for the interest of anyone.

We all know that in any society people cheat and steal and take more than they need, but every “per” — as a person is called in Mattapoisset — is guaranteed care for all their needs for life, constitutionally, because everybody, structurally, is deemed to be of equal worth.

If you’re one of those who laughs at utopian thinking because you’re wedded to dystopian dog-eat-dog modules, consider the sabbatical that everyone in Mattapoisset is guaranteed, as they do in universities now, every seven years.

That is, every seventh year, every per is freed from work and family obligations to regenerate, study, think, refresh, reassess the value and meaning of life, fully supported by the community, and without resentment. It’s part of mental health.   

You like that sort of thing? Or has dystopianitis pushed you to the point where all you can offer is derision?

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My goodness, Magee — last week, there was fog and drizzle and there it was again this week, Tuesday Oct. 9, when the Old Men of the Mountain met at Pop’s Place (formerly the West Wind Diner) in Preston Hollow.

The Old Men of the Mountain had this miserable driving condition the whole way. With a detour on the mountain that was unexpected, and in no man’s land with the fog and drizzle, two carloads of OMOTM got lost in the hills. Another carload missed a turn they take almost daily because they could not see and they had no idea where they were in the dark and fog.

Just like last week in the fog and drizzle, some were driving by the entrance of the restaurant because the OF doing the driving did not know where they were, and did not even see the restaurant, let alone the driveway to the parking lot.

We are talking early morning here; the sun hadn’t even had a hint of showing up yet. This last carload had to do the same thing the OFs did last week — find a building with lights on and turn around.

The OMOTM think the weather being sleep-in weather was the reason for a low turnout at Pop’s Place.  Most of the OFs who didn’t show also had missed the experience of getting cows for milking many times (in their farming days) on the same type of morning.

Some of the OFs did not get to really enjoy the experience of hearing the cows mill around early in the morning before the sun comes up, or seeing cows waiting at the gate in the fog of late summer to early fall. For the ones who missed that occurrence, there was something about it that made the world feel like everything is going to be all right.

The OF who was returning to his winter home and had the snake problem brought lots of talk about snakes, and snake incidents at Tuesday morning’s breakfast. It appears that most everyone has one snake story or another to relate — some in size, others in quantity, and others in location.

The discussions centered on if the snakes were of the nasty kind, or if they were just the regular garden variety. These were the major topics. The OFs have had their run-in with rattlers, both here and in the South. Some of the OFs told of signs in the western part of the country advising people to stay on the provided path because of these critters.

One OF told of such signs at the Very Large Array in New Mexico that not only advised visitors to stay on the path because of these snakes but their sign also warned visitors to be aware of lightning strikes.

This OF and friends wondered how anyone could do that. The snake they could see but, with a lightning strike, by the time they noticed it, it would be too late to do anything about it.

The OFs wondered why so many people are leery of snakes. Some of the OFs say snakes don’t usually bother them, but can when they are not expecting them to be around. If one wiggles across his path, the OF is startled.

One OF mentioned finding a nest of rock snakes. These snakes are in our area but rare. They are harmless and beautiful; finding a nest of them is rarer yet.

The OFs discuss snakes on occasion but Tuesday morning the OFs covered the black snakes, garter snakes, milk snakes and, of course, the kind the OFs don’t want to mess with — the copperheads and the rattlesnakes. Those two can be found in the OFs’ territory but fortunately they are rarer than the rock snake.

One OF said he developed a relationship with an average-sized garter snake while painting the sunny side of his barn. The OF said he noticed the snake curled up in the sun in front of the barn and paid no attention to it. The snake stayed there while he worked around it.

The next day, he put the cat’s milk dish out where the snake was and the snake came to it, curled up, and stayed there while he painted. Each day for six days, the OF and the snake met to paint the barn.

Schoharie intersection

Outside of the diner on nice days some, if not most of the OFs, gather and continue to shoot the bull. Tuesday morning, a group discussed the tragedy in Schoharie, where a limo crashed, killing 20 people. Most of the OFs know this intersection well and the OFs’ conversation went back to when the intersection was a Y at the bottom.

The OFs agree this T-intersection is much better. Some of the OFs have come down this hill with an old K9 International Truck loaded with hay and had to make that turn and then look through the cab to the right in order to continue on to Schoharie.

Way back then, it was a trick to pull out onto Route 30. Some OFs had just been down that hill and the T-intersection with no problem.

Common ailments

A common thread that sews old people together is their health, their doctors, their aches and pains, their operations, and their spare parts. Sometimes the thread could be kids, but not all old people had kids, but aches and pains they all have.

Sometimes this thread is food, but so many old people have diet restrictions food is not the thread, but doctor visits they all have. So it is with the OMOTM.

Tuesday, there were discussions on operations and, in this case, one OF has had one knee done and the other knee requires the same type of repair.

“No way,” this OF says.

He is going to do without it. Right now, he handles the pain by keeping off the bad knee, and using Tylenol when he has to go someplace where walking is necessary.

This sentiment was echoed by other OFs who have had some similar operations, put up with them for years, and now are questioning if the operation was worth it. Some, however, say the operation may have stiffened them up some but the pain is gone.

It is a Catch-22. One OF said it all depends on your sawbones — if he knows what he is doing or not.

One OF suggested it is the OFs themselves. If the OF does not do the physical therapy completely, he is going to get stiff, and may still have some hurt.

“Look,” one OF said, “it is the practice of medicine and the doctors are all still practicing.”

The OFs groaned at this because they have heard it so many times. However, most of the OFs are happy with the doctors they have.

Condolences

The Old Men of the Mountain would like to offer our sympathies, condolences, thoughts, and prayers to all those who lost their lives in the accident at routes 30 and 30A in Schoharie. It is tragic and was completely preventable.  

Those OFs who made it to Pop’s Place in Preston Hollow, regardless of their physical conditions, were: Harold Guest, Roger Chapman, Wally Guest, John Rossmann, Pete Whitbeck, Robie Osterman, George Washburn, Bill Lichliter, Wayne Gaul, Ted Feurer, Marty Herzog, Jim Rissacher, Lou Schenck, Jack Norray, Mace Porter (it’s a small world after all, Amy is the cook and runs the diner and Mace is her great-uncle), Herb Bahrmann, Mike Willsey, Gerry Chartier, Elwood Vanderbilt, Allen DeFazzo, Harold Grippen, and me.

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Community Caregivers, a not-for-profit organization dedicated to enabling individuals of all ages to maintain their independence, dignity and quality of life within their homes and communities, will hold its 24th annual gala on Saturday, Nov. 17 at Albany Country Club at 300 Wormer Road in Voorheesville. This year’s gala theme is Helping Hands, Caring Hearts.

The evening will begin with cocktails at 6 p.m., with dinner and silent and live auctions at 7 p.m. The gala’s popular wine-and-dine pull will also be featured. Greg Floyd, news anchor for CBS 6 Albany, will again serve as this year’s master of ceremonies. The board of directors thanks gala sponsors Adirondack Environmental Services, Albany Med, Ayco Charitable Foundation, and Bank of America.

The board is pleased to announce the Joseph A. Bosco Community Service award will be presented to the Capital Financial Planning Charitable Foundation. The foundation was started in 2009 by Todd Slingerland, president and chief executive officer of Capital Financial Planning, a registered advisory investment firm located in Guilderland.

The Foundation has helped to bolster the many efforts of not-for-profit organizations, including those dedicated to fighting disease and hunger, enhancing education and youth development, supporting veterans and the elderly, and working to address problems such as domestic violence and homelessness.

Through its annual golf tournament held the third Monday in May at Albany Country Club, the foundation raises funds for donations and grants, selecting a primary beneficiary each year. In 2018, the foundation selected Community Caregivers. Past primary beneficiaries have included Ronald McDonald House (through the Amazing Gracie’s Gift Foundation), YMCA Circle of Champs, STRIDE Adaptive Sports, Sunnyview Rehabilitation Hospital, Ellis Medicine/Bellevue Women’s Heart Health Center, and Brave Will Foundation.

Ellen Kaufman, gala committee chairwoman, and her committee invite the community to attend and pay tribute to the Joseph Bosco awardee. Tickets are $125 per person. For ticket information, please call 518-456-2898. And to learn more about Community Caregivers, visit www.communitycaregivers.org.

Editor’s note: Regina Dubois  is a Community Caregivers’ board member.

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You often see sentinels on the side of the road, sad reminders of a tearful tragedy, on a busy street corner in the city, or out in the middle of nowhere. There might be a display of flowers, maybe with ribbons and bows. Sometimes it’s just a lonely cross stuck in the ground.

The memorials that stand out the most are the so-called “ghost bicycles,” often with flat tires because they’ve been there so long. These somber remembrances are placed by grieving relatives or friends of a cyclist who died in a traffic accident, and I’m not sure if I’ll ever get used to them.

My cousin lives on a corner in a busy Queens neighborhood. There was an accident there where someone died. A memorial was placed on the corner — lots of flowers and a cross.

Then once a week relatives and friends would come to visit and have a little service. Mind you, this is right out on the street in front of my cousin’s house. After a while, getting to see that over and over again, no matter how good the intentions, just gets old. Cemeteries exist for a reason, after all.

There are two main routes that I take to work. For many years, there was a ghost bicycle on the corner by a gas station where a young lady got killed while riding her bike. The accident was tragic no doubt, as she was young, beautiful, full of energy, and a well-respected small-business owner.

But, twice a day, five days a week, I had to be reminded of her untimely death. That got depressing after a while.

That ghost bike is gone now, thankfully, but another one has appeared on the other main drag that I use almost every day. This one was also a bicycle accident. (See a pattern here?) So now, again, I’m reminded of death oftentimes twice a day, when all I’m trying to do is commute back and forth to work. As if commuting needed something else to make it even worse.

If you’re like me, busy just about all the time, you probably don’t think about death too often in your daily routine. You know it’s going to happen eventually but you don’t dwell on it.

In my case, once I hit age 50, I can honestly say I don’t even fear it any more. The idea of resting peacefully for a long time after a full and active life actually sounds pretty good in many ways.

The thing is, I normally don’t think about it, but then I see the flowers, the crosses, and the ghost bicycles — and I get sad. It’s not good to be reminded of death all the time. Had I wanted that, I would have gone into the very lucrative undertaker business.

I don’t know if there are any laws against creating your own public memorial at crash sites. Even if there are, it would not be fun telling a victim’s relatives their memorial is not welcome.

Though the intention is honorable, the practice of making memorials in public places just doesn’t sit right with me. We already have cemeteries. I know people are grieving, but why do we need to be reminded of it, often twice a day, every day? It sure is a bummer, I can tell you that.

My dear departed mom is buried about an hour from my home. I visit her grave maybe two or three times a year. I don’t need to place a cross outside the apartment where she last lived. I don’t need to place flowers outside the hospital where she finally died.

I don’t need to visit here grave weekly or even daily like I know many grieving relatives do. I just know that she lives on in my heart and I think about her all the time. I’m sure she’d be happy knowing that.

A friend of mine who, like me, was a huge Minnesota Vikings died recently. I just heard that his lovely wife drove all the way out to Minnesota to sprinkle his ashes at the new stadium. I have to say that’s pretty cool, and I’m sure Bill would have loved that.

I’ve instructed my wife and my friend to put some of my ashes in the gas tank of my motorcycle when I die, and then to have them ride the bike up my favorite road, Route 30, north into the Adirondacks when I die. What a nice way to have one last motorcycle ride. I just hope the fuel filter doesn’t get clogged.

Note that, in each of these cases of final memorials with ashes that I just described, there is no permanent display left to sadden any commuters or any residents who happen to live where something bad happened. I think this is appropriate.

In fact, I’ll go one step further — make sure you tell the people you love most how you feel about them while they’re still around to hear it. It’s much better for them then a cross on the side of the road or a ghost bicycle with flat tires sitting chained to a pole somewhere.

Speaking of ghost bicycles left as memorials — how about, instead of letting a perfectly good bike sit outside to rust, try cleaning it up and donating it to the City Mission or the Salvation Army? Letting a kid use it for what it was meant to be used for is much better, I think. I’ll bet the poor accident victim would feel the same way.

We all grieve in different ways, no doubt about it, but when your grief has to cause poor commuting working stiffs to feel sad twice a day, maybe there’s a better way to grieve.

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The Tuesday of Oct. 2, the Old Men of the Mountain headed to the Chuck Wagon Diner.

The Chuck Wagon in Princetown is one of the furthest that the OFs who live in Middleburgh and beyond have to travel to have breakfast. This Tuesday was almost completely shrouded in dense fog.

Some OMOTM leave at 5 or 6 in the morning and, in this “soup,” that is dedication. One set of OFs drove right on by the diner because of oncoming traffic and not having a clue to the surrounding geography and where they were.

Actually, the OFs knew where they were; they just didn’t know where the diner was. These OFs had to drive all the way to the bank in Duanesburg where there was enough light to negotiate a turn-around once they realized they missed the restaurant’s parking-lot entrance.

Military habits

At the table where this scribe sat, one of the topics talked about was the Korean War, but not the battles, as these were Navy men. These OFs discussed what conditions were like when they were onboard ships.

One OF was on a ship like the Slater (which is now docked at Albany) and another OF was on the aircraft carrier, the Wasp, and the conditions they experienced then is nothing like the experiences now. One connection, no matter the branch of service, was these experiences and comradery that developed by serving in the military. These friendships carry over, and in many cases lifelong friendships developed.

One thing that did develop was the habit of smoking. The OFs mentioned they picked up the problem of smoking while in the military, whether it was Army, Navy, or Marines. Cigarettes were made plentiful, cheap, and often times encouraged. Those in charge considered the cigarette a stress reliever and a good way to keep the OFs alert while on watch.

The OFs at this scribe’s table all picked up the habit and continued it even after their discharge. One OF admitted he became a three-pack-a-day smoker of unfiltered Camel cigarettes.

All of the same OFs at the table are now non-smokers and quit quite a while ago. The OF who was a three-pack-a-day smoker said he looked at a cigarette he was about to light, took it, and threw it away.  The OF has never smoked since.

All said there was almost an immediate change in their health for the better. The earliest sensation the OFs noticed that improved was energy, taste, and smell. This scribe thinks that is why they are now part of this group.

This scribe has never smoked, but then again, he was never in the military. When he went with a group of buddies to sign up, the military didn’t want him, and classified this scribe as 4F.

This scribe was deeply disappointed and thought the board was wrong; only later on, he found out they were right. How the problem eluded this scribe’s doctors for years (and it wasn’t until this scribe was 60-something) before the problem was found and corrected.

Rattler alert

These reunions and get-togethers covered most of the conversation Tuesday morning, with a few side conversations thrown in. These were the typical exchanges on who saw the biggest car show etc., and then one snow bird who was preparing to leave the next day said that the place where they go (which is near Disney) sent a notice to all who were returning to be prepared for some changes.

One was that they were to keep pets indoors unless being walked. When out being walked, the pets and the people walking them were to stay on the pavement, be careful, and not get off in the grass. This is because the grass is now infested with rattlesnakes.

Well, there is a big whoop! We think this OF should hang around here for awhile longer until they (whoever they are) solves that little problem. By the way, rattlesnakes are not an endangered species and the snake skin makes good belts and boots.

Travelers’ tales

It is always interesting when someone travels and they meet someone that has been to where they have been and the traveler can say, “Did you do this or that,” or, “Stay here, or eat here,” and the person can say, “Yes, I also did that.”

This is the case of one of the OFs at the table. An OF said, “While in Mississippi, did you eat at The Shed BBQ & Blues Joint in Ocean Springs?”

The other OF said, “Yes, we did. Isn’t that some kind of place? The food was great.”

So these OFs started telling the rest of us all about The Shed BBQ & Blues Joint in Mississippi. If anyone is interested in what these OFs were talking about, you could Google it at the shed.com.

It is not necessary to type the whole thing; as soon as you start, it pops right up. This place does look unusual. Both OFs say it is like eating in a clothing store and a junkyard at the same time, and it is all open to the elements. Sounds like the OFs’ kind of place.

Those OFs that are still able to travel and who are ambulatory and willing to share their stories to the rest of the OFs are much appreciated.

All the OFs who made it to the Chuck Wagon Diner in Princetown, travelers or not, were: Roger Shafer, Pete Whitbeck, Robie Osterman, George Washburn, Bill Lichliter, Roger Chapman, John Rossmann, Wally Guest, Harold Guest, Art Frament, Chuck Aelesio, Richard Frank, Wayne Gaul, Ted Feurer, Joe Rack, Glenn Patterson, Mark Traver, Jack Norray, Gerry Irwin, Herb Bahrmann, Mace Porter, Warren Willsey, Jim Rissacher, Marty Herzog, Gerry Chartier, Mike Willsey, Rev. Jay Francis, Elwood Vanderbilt, Allen DeFazzo, Harold Grippen, and me.

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— From the Guilderland Historical Society

Written in pencil on the reverse of this photograph is: “Baldwin apple tree on farm of Martin Blessing, Fullers, N.Y., yield in 1903 ten barrels of apples.”

— From the Guilderland Historical Society

Leininger’s Cider Mill on Carman Road, north of Old State Road, was an autumn destination for large numbers of cider lovers until 1989. Today a medical building occupies the site. This photo was taken in about 1942.

“Hank Apple’s tap” was immortalized by Henry Rowe Schoolcraft in his Anti-Rent War narrative poem “Helderbergia” when he has innkeeper Apple “replace the feast, while gin its reign resumes.”

The local men, travelers, and drovers frequenting one of Guilderland’s many late 18th- or early 19th-century taverns did imbibe gin, brandy, rum, and whiskey. However, it was also very likely that cheap, locally-made hard cider or applejack flowed from the “taps.”

An 1814 bar book from the Severson Tavern, once located at the base of the Helderberg escarpment in what is now Altamont, recorded that Wm. Truax owed 9 pence for 1½ mugs of cider; Lot Hurst drank 1½ mugs of cider at a cost of 9¼ cts.; Jacob Zimmer spent 18¾ cts. for 3 mugs of cider; and Evert Barkley downed 1 cider eggnog, an extravagance of 12½ cts.

The drink of choice among all age groups during these years, cider was widely produced by local farmers from the plentiful apple trees thriving in Guilderland and wherever farmers had settled in New York State. Although Esopus Spitzenburgs, Northern Spy, Yellow Newtown, and Lady Sweet were among the apple varieties that could be found at that time in the state, most early farmers had little concern about named varieties or their apples’ attractive appearance as long as the trees on their farms produced flavorful fruit.

During these early year,s most apples not eaten fresh were crushed into cider by family members or they dried slices chiefly for their own use. However, sometimes they bartered these for goods or services.

According to John Winne’s account book of 1810-1818 recording the transactions of his Dunnsville store and tavern, local families could barter one bushel of dried apples for $1.50 worth of merchandise at his store or one barrel of cider for the value of $1.00. A day’s labor for Winne earned only $.50 credit, illustrating the economic importance of apples at that time.

Knowersville’s Dr. Frederick Crounse was willing to accept a barrel of cider in exchange of $1.50 worth of medical treatment and for that price would “excise a tumor.”

The cider those hardy folks drank was not the pasteurized stuff we drink today. In those days, the sugar content of the pressed apple juice rapidly fermented, creating the low alcohol content of “hard cider.”

The hard cider could further be distilled into potent apple brandy or applejack. Old timers could put out a pail of hard cider on a bitterly cold winter’s night and, come morning, the water content would be frozen, leaving a small amount of highly alcoholic applejack.

Later in the 19th and early 20th centuries, local farmers could make their families’ cider supply with inexpensive cider mills such as “The Little Giant Cider Mill” for $7.65 that could be ordered from the 1897 Sears, Roebuck Catalog. Or they could buy a barrel of cider already pressed from W. D. Frederick for $2.88 as noted in his 1888 account book or at other cider mills in the area.

Another product of cider was vinegar. In the 1880s, A.V. Mynderse was a “manufacturer of and wholesale and retail dealer in cider and vinegar” in Guilderland Center.

Cider and vinegar producers advertised in The Enterprise, urging farmers to bring in their apples at what were much lower prices than for high-quality fruit. However, for drops or a farmer with only a few trees, it was a way to earn ready cash even if the price per bushel was under $1.

During the last years of the 19th Century, larger scale apple production had turned into an important source of cash income for town farmers. Paying calls at local farms, out-of-town buyers sought good quality fruit to be shipped out by rail to big-city markets.

One year, Fullers farmers were visited by a Utica buyer purchasing apples to be sent to Philadelphia. A.M. LaGrange, a farmer living in that part of town, sold 100 barrels in 1889. He had “the reputation of growing some of the finest apples in this locality.”

Each of the town’s four railroad depots were the scenes of the departure of carloads of apples destined for East Coast cities. Reporting from Guilderland Center in 1901, “The first installment of apples purchased here…was shipped from this station to New York last Saturday.”

Prices for either grade of apples varied, depending on scarcity and demand. In 1892, farmers received $2.25 for a bushel of fine quality apples, but it was unusual to receive that much per bushel. In 1896, The Enterprise noted, “Apples are cheaper this year than ever before in our recollection, prices ranging from $.50 to $.75 per barrel for nice choice fruit.”

After 1890, area apple-growing farmers found a steady market for their apple crop when Charles H. Burton and A. Elmer Cory of Albany opened up a cider and vinegar manufacturing plant near the D&H tracks in Voorheesville capable of crushing 9,000 pounds of apples daily. Named the Empire Cider and Vinegar Company in 1891, it was eventually known as Duffy-Mott.

It was an immediate success and, within a year after opening, several 1,000-gallon tanks were added to the operation. Advertisements in The Altamont Enterprise urged farmers to bring their apples to the Fullers and Altamont railroad stations for shipment to the new processing plant.

By 1900, three-thousand bushels were pressed daily during a 70-day season. In later years, apple juice and applesauce were added to the product line. Duffy-Mott closed down the plant in 1955, striking a serious economic blow to farmers who lost a ready market for their apple crops.

At first, the variety of apples didn’t seem to matter much for individual farmers. In 1895, apple trees of no particular variety could be purchased very inexpensively from Jas. Hallenbeck of Altamont when he offered 5½- to 7-foot trees for only $.15 each.

This casual attitude changed as buyers grew increasingly picky about quality. Diseases affecting trees and fruit such as scab and codling moths and by the 1920s the “skeletonizer” disease had appeared, making “arsenical applications” necessary to save the apple crop.

Until the mid-1950s, extensive acreage in and around Guilderland Center was devoted to apple orchards. A wildfire that threatened the drought-stricken hamlet in 1947 succeeded in destroying the 1,000-tree fruit orchard of Edward Griffiths on the western end of the village.

However, a 1950 aerial view of Guilderland Center appearing as part of a Knickerbocker News article revealed row upon row of apple trees on the site where today stand the firehouse, the school bus garage, the high school and its playing fields, and houses — all once owned by A.V. Mynderse, the vinegar-maker.

With the closing of the Duffy-Mott plant and the pressure of development, all of Guilderland’s orchards are gone now except one. Altamont Orchards remains to carry on our town’s apple tradition.

The original orchard was planted by Dr. Daniel H. Cook, a prominent Albany doctor who used the land as his summer home and gentleman’s farm. He was a serious agriculturalist who planted 3,000 apple, pear, and plum trees, considered a very fine orchard in 1899.

In 1967, the Abbruzzese family took over the property, opening up a farmstand in addition to running the orchards. Operating a profitable apple orchard today is a tremendous challenge, requiring the owners to do more than tend the trees.The competition from other states and countries is fierce.

State health regulations control the making of cider, now requiring it to be pasteurized. There is no more amateur hard cider, although professionally produced hard cider has had a revival recently.

Today, in addition to their farm stand and orchard, the Abbruzzese family has established a golf course and restaurant on the property in order to stay in business.

Solely depending on income from an apple orchard is not practical these days for a farmer in Guilderland unless other avenues of profit are explored. The time may come when Guilderland’s apple history is all past history.

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It was another rainy Tuesday on Sept. 25 when the Old Men of the Mountain traveled to the Duanesburg Diner in Duanesburg.

In the direction that many of the OMOTM travel, they are bucking early morning traffic of those hustling off to work in the cities. The early morning brings its share of headlights greeting the OFs as they head in the other direction.

Add the flip-flop of the windshield wipers as they swish back and forth, wiping the water off the windshield when it is raining, and the OFs have a dark, early morning motoring challenge. The OFs aren’t complaining; the OFs thank all these cars on the road headed to work — saying, “Thank you, keep those Social Security checks rolling; we did this (work) for many years.”

The OMOTM by name have, over the years, accrued many items and most were necessary purchases. The problem is some, if not most, of these “things” are no longer necessary or have worn out, and where are these items now located? Well, surprise! The OFs have still got them.

At Tuesday’s breakfast, the OFs were talking about lawn mowers that do not work and have been replaced by newer ones, and TVs in the garage that are so obsolete that they are not even good for parts. The same goes for computers, hot-water heaters, and washers and dryers.

For one OF, it is shoes and boots. The mantra that was being displayed at this breakfast was, “I don’t want it!”

“So take it to the dump,” came a somewhat unison reply.

One OF said that he has hung on to some of this junk for so long it will now take a truck to haul it to the dump. Another OF thought it would be slick to gather all the old appliances, old chimney caps, old wood stoves, just plain old this and that, and pile it in the front yard.

Then have a few people look at it and arrange the pile into what in the OF’s opinion would be interesting, give it a name, make a sign, stick it in front of the pile and in the name of art call it (free form sculpture) and leave it there.

One OF picked up on this and said, “I have some stuff that I could bring and add to this pile.”

“Hey,” said the OFs, “we all could contribute to this, take pictures of it, and put it on the ’net.”

Some of the OFs thought this would be cool.

One OF said, “The pile could be built around an old telephone pole I have, and the OFs that have big bucket loaders could lift up an old decrepit riding lawn mower with a mannequin driver and cap the whole business.”

This met with considerable approval. The drawback was: What OF would let this so-called work of art be constructed in his front yard? The OMOTM have the collection, and the wherewithal, but ran short when it came to location.

So it still came down to “Take it to the dump.”

How colorful will the leaves be?

At the scribe’s end of the table, the conversations were quite redundant — e.g., hunting, boats, lawn mowers, old cars, old-car parts, model Ts, hearing aids, the weather, and then seasonal questions came up like: “What are we going to do this fall?” and “What do you think this fall will be like?”

One OF thought it should be exceptional because of how much the foliage grew this summer with the almost tropical weather we had in our area. If all these trees turn color without a heavy rain storm or high winds (when they are at high peak in changing), it is going to be a great fall to have the camera ready.

Others thought this fall would be like the summer — warm, wet, and dull.

This is one topic where we should make notes to see who is right or wrong; however, we all have to wait and see how it turns out. One OF says there is an area near his place that is about a quarter-mile stretch of road lined with maples and a couple of oaks.

He has taken pictures of this vicinity from the same spot for about five or six years. The trees grow some each year, but it is hardly noticeable.

Still, this year it is different — the growth is noticeable. Previously, the color of the trees, no matter what, was about the same. This year the OF thinks it will be no different — the color will be about the same.

Fooling the calendar

Another OF mentioned that many people with boats go by the calendar and take their boats out of the water when the calendar says to do so. This OF said that this year it is still good boating and fishing weather and his boat is still in the water. Even in past years, he has done the same by keeping the boat in the water longer then the calendar suggests.

Another OF said that is like buttoning up the house for winter, and putting up the outdoor furniture. Some do it way too soon and miss the nice warm days of fall, and enjoying a fire in the outdoor fireplace.

The bugs and mosquitoes are gone, the evening is darker earlier, the fire seems to crackle better, and this OF said it just seems nicer.

Others don’t like fall at all. They know what is coming and don’t like plowing and shoveling snow. Each to his own. That is what makes life so interesting.

Those Old Men of the Mountain filling up the back room and them some at the Duanesburg Diner in Duanesburg, on a foggy, rainy Tuesday were: Roger Chapman, George Washburn, Robie Osterman, Bill Lichliter, Pete Whitbeck, Roger Shafer, Bill Bartholomew, Art Williams, David Williams, Wally Guest, Harold Guest, John Rossmann, Richard Frank, Chuck Aelesio, Ted Feurer, Jake Lederman, Gerry Irwin, Herb Bahrmann, Mace Porter, Mike Willsey, Warren Willsey, Mark Traver, Joe Rack, Glenn Patterson, Otis Lawyer, Elwood Vanderbilt, Bob Donnelly, Allen DeFazzo,  Harold Grippen, and me.

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