Archive » June 2021 » Columns

by Jesse S. Sommer
Albany's coat of arms

Albany's coat of arms was adopted by the Common Council in 1789.

As we prepare to bid June adieu, it’s worth tying together a few historical threads that tangled in this, the first month of summer. That’s the lofty status most of us primarily associate with June, despite the shadowy abstract authority that somehow imbues these particular 30 days with a slew of other significances.

For example, June is Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer, Intersex, Asexual Pride Month.  More commonly referred to by the shorthand LGBTQIA, this ever-expanding initialism currently clocks in at nearly 27 percent of the entire alphabet.

Or, following President Obama’s 2009 update of the antiquated “Black Music Month” created by President Carter in 1979, June serves as “African-American Music Appreciation Month” — celebrating the legacy of those who “lifted their voices to the heavens through spirituals” amidst the injustice of slavery — while simultaneously offering the perfect backdrop to last week’s institution of Juneteenth as the first new federal holiday in 38 years.

And, coming on the heels of Albany’s deadliest month (there were six shooting homicides in May alone), June is also Gun Violence Awareness Month. Which brings me to an Albany Common Councilman’s call this past January to change Albany’s flag.

Stay with me.

Back in the heady days of a brand spanking new New Year — before the Capitol Siege and an inadvertent Suez blockade, before the spectacles of impeachment and inauguration, before the death of a King (Larry) and a Prince (Phillip), before Kim divorced Kanye and the vaccine finally freed us to expose the bottom third of our faces — Councilman Owusu Anane introduced a resolution to examine whether New York’s capital should continue flying a flag whose original inspiration was adopted by Nazis (who, to put it mildly, ruin everything).

Anane was parroting a cause championed by Adam Aleksic, whose online petition at www.AlbanyFlag.com advocates redesigning Albany’s current city flag, which was first introduced in 1909 as part of Albany’s tricentennial celebration of Henry Hudson’s discovery of the river that — wouldn't you know it — bore his name.

The flag’s design had intended to emulate the so-called “Prince’s Flag” (of Prince William of Orange fame) flown by the Dutch East India Company for which Hudson sailed in 1609. With an eye towards history, Albany adopted the horizontal orange-white-blue tricolor, replacing the Dutch East India Company’s logo with the city’s own coat of arms.

And that might not have been problematic if Albany’s coat of arms — adopted in 1789 — didn’t look as though it’d been designed by a xenophobic third-grader using clip art from Microsoft Windows 95. 

“Vexillologists (flag experts) have five rules of good design,” Aleksic wrote in a letter to the Times Union late last year. “A flag should be simple, use no more than three basic colors, contain no lettering or seals, have meaningful symbolism, and be distinctive from other flags.” Albany’s flag fails on all counts.

To his credit, Aleksic accompanied his criticism of Albany’s flag with a proposed design for a new one, and urged Albanites to “make a bold change and choose to promote unity and commonality instead of this unknown, intolerant eyesore.” (To his further credit, he used the word “eyesore,” which now grants me a not-to-be-missed opportunity to declare that Evan Blum should be ashamed of his cynical abuse of the legal process to forestall action on the Central Warehouse.)

Even absent the coat of arms squarely centered on Albany’s flag, the tricolor Prince’s Flag has the awkward distinction of having been: the colors of the slave-trading Dutch East India Company; a backdrop for the Dutch Nazi Party in the 1930s; the base flag design for South Africa’s 20th-Century apartheid era government; and the current pattern of choice for worldwide white supremacists. Whoops. Where’s that cartoon-style “sweaty collar-pull” emoji when you need it?

When you add that coat of arms back in, things get downright uncomfortable. That’s why Aleksic and Anane aren’t alone in their distaste for the centerpiece design of Albany’s seal. Indeed, Albany Mayor Kathy Sheehan has already stopped using Albany’s seal on official letters and documents unless legally required to.

What force of law might so compel her? How ’bout the fact that the seal’s coat of arms design is enshrined in § 15-1 of Albany’s city charter, which rather embarrassingly describes the dude on the right as “an American Indian, savage proper.” Gulp; collar-pull.

No wonder Aleksic calls Albany’s flag “a racist, poorly designed symbol that isn’t instilling pride in our residents.” And, while it’s perhaps unreasonable to expect every quarter-millennium-old art project to age flawlessly, it’s also unreasonable to go another 250 years before taking action. I mean, this isn’t the Albany Central Warehouse, am I right? (Ba-ZINGA!)

Whereas tackling the design of Albany’s coat of arms may be more legally daunting, replacing Albany’s flag needn’t be. I already mentioned Aleksic’s draft flag design, which you can see on AlbanyFlag.com. It’s snazzy, simple, and sleek — exactly how’d you describe Albany if you spent three straight hours drinking-with-a-purpose at Fort Orange Brewing down on North Pearl Street.

Why the gratuitously-contrived commercial endorsement? Because Fort Orange Brewing’s namesake antecedent offers inspiration for a new Albany flag that might even be superior to Aleksic’s proposal.

In 1624 — exactly 40 years before it was renamed Fort Albany — Fort Orange emerged in the midst of Mohican territory as New Netherland’s first permanent Dutch settlement. It was named in honor of the Dutch House of Orange-Nassau, from which Prince William of Orange had emerged just a few decades prior to kick-start the Dutch revolt against the Spanish.

And when the English took control of the fort in 1664, they inherited a simple concept for that someday capital city’s future flag — unforgivingly obvious, right there in the name.

Because what if Albany’s flag were just — orange?

“That’s outrageous!” you scream, since change is scary and it’s fun to be loud.

Think about it. The simplicity of solid orange would make our flag uniquely defining; Google reveals no other national, provincial, territorial, state, municipal, or organizational flag composed of a single solid orange.

“Lock him up! Lock him up! Lock him up!” you chant, increasingly confused as to why.

Well, just hold on a second. Think about my proposal in the context of June.

There is one cause, one commemoration, which is inextricably linked with orange: National Gun Violence Awareness, for which orange is the official color.

Among other less imperative distinctions, June is Gun Violence Awareness Month, and it just so happens that right now, “Cap City” is grappling with a second year of unprecedented lethality. Cap City also finds itself in need of a new flag.

Gun deaths in 2021 are already on track to beat the record set last year, during which 129 people were shot — 17 of whom were killed — in one of Albany’s most lethal years on record. (And, in a tangentially eerie report linking my current whereabouts to life back home, the Times Union also reported last week that a handgun used in four Albany shootings from 2017 to 2018 had actually been stolen from Fort Bragg, North Carolina.)

So let’s acknowledge the synergistic trends intersecting at this particular point in time and space. Can the cause of reducing gun violence spur a long overdue replacement of city icons, and vice versa? Can we eliminate the ancient indignities depicted on our guidon while working to spare mothers the devastation of needlessly burying children caught in the crossfire?

National Gun Violence Awareness Month does not mean that June is open season for mass confiscation of personally owned firearms. And celebration of LGBTQIA communities or African-American music doesn’t mean that June is officially the month where we set out in search of state symbols to skewer.

But, like, come on; the seal of Albany features a Dutch farmer, a Mohican warrior, a beaver, and a boat.  Can’t these concepts almost be better represented by the color orange, which harkens back to those courageous New World adventurers — instilled with the revolutionary spirit of William of Orange — who constructed a foothold in the heartland of the proud Mohican confederacy?

And, like, do we need a tricolor flag, when a solid orange one would symbolically align Albany’s identity with our life-or-death struggle to eradicate the horrendous gun violence plaguing streets in the heart of state government?

These are the questions. And sometimes the answers are right in front of you. Other times they’re on the label of the locally-branded beer you’ve been drinking, which you notice for the first time only after your third hour at a bar on June’s summer solstice. But regardless of how you arrive at those answers, orange you glad I didn’t say “Central Warehouse?”

Captain Jesse Sommer is an active duty Army paratrooper and lifelong resident of Albany County. He welcomes your thoughts at jesse@altamontenterprise.com.

Post date: 
June 24, 2021

Print this page

by John R. Williams

Tuesday, June 15, the Old Men of the Mountain met at Mrs. K’s Restaurant in Middleburgh. The OMOTM start arriving early enough in the morning to wake the chickens, because some OFs still wake up for milking although they haven’t washed an udder in years. This causes one to think, what time do those who work in the restaurant get up to be ready for these OFs?

If it weren’t for the weather, how would the OFs start a conversation? With the OMOTM, the weather requires somewhat of an honest answer.

“How ya doin’?” doesn’t cut it because most of the OFs lie to that one with the answer, “Hey, I’m doin’ great; how you doin’?” Then comes another fib.

On Tuesday morning, many of the OFs listened to the radio, or TV, or read news reports on their phones about how some really wicked storms were coming through. These reports mentioned towns they lived in — including the times these storms were expected to arrive.

The OFs talked about how they prepared for the storms, by moving outdoor furniture, turning outdoor tables over and anchoring them in place — all this stuff. What did the OFs get for all this effort? Sunshine — not a lick of a storm. Where did it go?

One OF complained he dumped a good set of hot charcoal just ready for the hot dogs and burgers. Well, at least the OFs had the weather to talk about (or lack of it) as promised.

Speaking about the weather, the next OMOTM’s breakfast will be a couple of days after the longest day of the year. Father’s Day, and the Gas Up will be on the longest day.

That longest day, Sunday, should not be here already, according to the OFs. It is too soon. The scribe thinks somehow we should be able to put an anchor on time and slow it down some, or at least stop it for a while.

 

Old times

Get a group of old farmers together and, just like a group of old soldiers, they talk about old times; old farmers talk about old farms and what it was like in the “good old days.” Those who keep up add current information to the old talk, and there seems to be a common thread.

Though most of those in the group do not participate in farming anymore, the OFs claim they miss it. The smell of the barn when sliding back the manger door and stepping inside on an early brisk fall morning — there’s nothing like it.

Hearing the cows stir, the cats getting down from their favorite cow and scurrying to the old milk can lid, waiting for their first batch of warm milk and all the activity of the early morning. Going to the milk house to get the cans ready, and feeding grain to the cows — all this is missed and the barn smelled so great.

The Chanticleer (John Charles Stevenson) was on the radio, and at that moment everything was at peace. Such was the typical small farm from the early 1900s until the state mandated bulk tanks in the 1950s. Many of the small farms could not afford these tanks, causing the small dairy farms to fold.

Of course now, as the OFs reminisced and talked about dairy farming, they are of an age that their kids (or grandkids) would be doing it because the OFs have too many aches and pains to continue. One OF added that, the way things are now, the kids have too much else going on to be interested, or even consider a 365-day-a-year job.

 

Best Gas Up

To go along with the farming conversation, the Gas Up came up, which might have prompted the above conversation in the first place. The Gas Up (located on Route 443 just north of Gallupville) is a collection of hit-and-miss engines that are still running (just like the OMOTM) and old trucks, tractors, cars, farm equipment, homemade ice cream, and lots more.

This new topic was history, and how historical events that happened and were recorded are now trying to be changed. Some of the OFs were uttering, “Say what?”

The OFs think that history, good or bad, happened. Those facts cannot be denied. To try and sweep the bad under the rug does not make sense to the OFs. That conversation was getting a little too deep, and didn’t last long before it returned to the Gas Up.

The OFs at the table of the scribe thought this year’s show was one of the best they have seen, and along with that, the crowd was one of the largest the OFs have noticed at the event.

A couple of the OFs had pieces of equipment at the Gas Up, which always makes something like the Gas Up more interesting when a little piece of personal attention is there. This is similar to something like personally knowing a race car driver, or owner, or some particular athlete or musician.

The personal touch really adds to the fan base. Speaking about a personal touch, my friend’s girlfriend left him for a tractor salesman. She sent him a John Deere letter.

Those Old Men of the Mountain who made it to Mrs. K’s Restaurant in Middleburgh in modern conveniences and not by horseback, were: Rich LaGrange, Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Roger Shafer, Roger Chapman, Duncan Bellinger, Mark Traver, Glenn Patterson, Joe Rack, Ken Parkes, Pete Whitbeck, Jake Herzog, Robie Osterman, George Washburn, Bill Lichliter, Ted Feurer, Jake Lederman, Russ Pokorny, Wayne Gaul, Otis Lawyer, Herb Bahrmann, Lou Schenck, Jack Norray, Gerry Chartier, Elwood Vanderbilt, Dave Hodgetts, Bob Donnelly, Warren Willsey, and me.

Post date: 
June 24, 2021

Print this page

by Dennis Sullivan

— Photo by Matt Collamer
A man named Michael holding this sign in a Boston subway station told photographer Matt Collamer that human kindness meant giving without expecting anything in return.

If we use the final days of the Roman Republic as historical precedent, or cultural backdrop cum mirror, to understand what’s taking place in the United States today — politically and socially — honesty forces us to conclude that the Republic of the United States, as happened to Rome, is done for.

No one wants to be the bearer of bad news but the similarities between the two Republics are overwhelming, especially when it comes to the violence and deceit associated with elections toward their end. And anyone who dismisses the parallel because Rome was way back in B. C., is a fool. Theodor Mommsen’s five-volume “The History of Rome” says why.

In early summer 2021 A. D., turn on the TV any time of day, listen to the radio, read the papers or what’s posted on social media: There is an endless flood of fearful cries foreboding the end of U. S. democracy, the demise of the Republic, while a violence-driven faction — even inside the government — spews trash-talk against the “collective” and creates legislation and propaganda networks that hack away at the social bonds a republic needs to stay alive.

A republic is not just a type of government, it’s a community where people bind themselves through mutual aid, knowing well that such an ethic is the first step toward preserving collective social life.

And the capitalist economy that runs through America’s veins like plasma in the blood, is hastening the demise of the Republic as its richest people propagandize that to be rich you cannot contribute to the collective; paying taxes is a waste of personal funds.

Indeed a few years ago, a former president of the United States, a billionaire, got on television and told the American people that anyone who contributes to the collective by paying taxes is a damn fool. He said it grinning with satisfaction, calling collectivists suckers. He said he beat the system and that’s how he stays rich.

Indeed, through the support of the rich, a tax code exists that ensures that they — and those of their ilk — remain above socio-political upheaval, untouched by the volatile ups-and-downs that invade the lives of the poloi.

Such engineering masks the connection between the “collective” and repaired roads, collected garbage, van drivers taking old and lonely seniors to the doctor, dog-control officers, and new desks for a rural elementary school that just might spark a child to take his studies seriously.

Part of the deep-seated animosity that exists in American society today arose when a significant number of Americans adopted the anthem of the rich but failed to achieve what it promised — and became infected with a virulent hate. On Jan. 6, 2021, that hate became lethal through an armed insurrection. Of course the country’s Capitol building was overrun but what was stormed as well was the bastille of community, of mutual-aid-based relationships, of a Republic that says the well-being of every citizen deserves equal attention.

By storming the Capitol, therefore, the rioters were also hacking at the life of the municipal minimum-wage van driver who takes old folks to the doctor, helps them out of the van, walks them up the steps to the office, insures that they get logged in, helps them settle in the waiting room, and then goes out to the van to wait until the appointment is over.

He then goes back in and collects his charge, asks the receptionist if there’s anything they need to know, walks the 93-year-old Widow Vanderpool back to the van, eases her into a seat, and chats with her on the way home, the only real conversation she had all week.

Understandably a happy van driver makes all the difference in how a mother is treated when her son can’t get off work to drive her himself. And the people carted in the van might not be old but have mental problems, a leg in a cast, or no one else in life to take them.

The community van-driver — metaphorically and actually — earns “nothing” because he is an expression of the collective, of community life where citizens provide for each other, as in taking the Widow Vanderpool to the doctor because she had no one else to call upon.

I’ve found nothing so far that says Bezos, Buffet, Trump, and others on their rung funnel funds to towns and villages to provide rides and services for people in need. And, as the Republic disintegrates, the number of people falling through the cracks of needs-unmet keeps growing.

A woke person might say disregard for the collective is a form of violence (at a distance), which an economist can make a case for with numbers. And those who war against collectivity are successful because they propagandize with an ideology of scarcity, a gospel of fear, that says there’s not enough to go around — and a horde of dirty Mexicans is hurtling toward the trough. Eat that dog before he eats you.

Because of such thinking and the hate it rewards, the United States is dying not from a heart attack — as was the case in B. C. Rome — but from congestive heart failure; the Tin Man of Oz, who finally found a heart, is watching it die before him.

When I hear the jeremiads on cable news saying the Republic is done for, I hear the voice of Cato the Younger — the Stoic philosopher who became a Roman senator to resist monarchy — and that of Rome’s most famous barrister, Marcus Tullius Cicero, both decrying the power-based hustle and violence that autocrats like Caesar championed. That nation inflicted death upon itself that a modern-day coroner would call suicide.

Look at the texts; in the early Fifties (B. C.) candidates running for office in Rome campaigned with gangs by their side, commanded paramilitary units who engaged the opposition on the street.

Things got so wild in 52 that no consul was elected. In the United States, that’s like saying social upheaval was so severe no president was elected.

The Roman senate called in Pompey the Great — the adulescentulus carnifex, the boy butcher — who got the name because he knew how to handle problems. The senate made him sole consul and provided him with an army to keep things under control.

The Greek-born historian Plutarch says, during elections, candidates presented themselves “not with votes, but with bows and arrows, swords, and slings.” He said they in fact, “would defile the rostra with blood and corpses before they separated, leaving the city to anarchy like a ship drifting about without a steersman.”

After a while, Plutarch says, “such madness and so great a tempest” wore people down so they were ready for a dictator to calm things. Being a political automaton — forget republican citizen — was better than being a billiard ball careening against the cushions of fractured social life.

Is that the ethical choice facing Americans today: political automaton or billiard ball? Years ago Robert Putnam, in his classic “Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community,” said America’s greatest fear was folks living in isolation; today that isolation has morphed into confused and hate-driven souls spraying the collective with AK-47’s — 247 times in 2021, and the year is hardly half done.

Post date: 
June 24, 2021

Print this page

by John R. Williams

On June 8, the Old Men of the Mountain woke up to a hot and humid day, but according to the weather people on TV it is not unusual to have such a day on June 8.

The body sure changes as people age. The OMOTM said, when they were 19, they would be out in the fields haying in this heat and think nothing of it. Now, at 80, it is a different story.

The weather on this day, however, did not keep the Old Men of the Mountain from meeting at the Middleburgh Diner, in Middleburgh.

During this time of COVID, many of the OMOTM are becoming accustomed to wearing masks. Not only does this help in preventing the spread of the disease, but on the old folks the mask hides a lot of facial blemishes. If an OF loses a tooth in front, the mask can hide it until it is fixed.

One OF said, “I kinda like this thing; people don’t know if I am smiling or sticking my tongue out at them.”

Another OF said he doesn’t like masks at all.

“They are a pain in the butt,” the OF complained.

This OF wears hearing aids (as many of the OFs do) and most of these OFs say, when taking the mask off, either the hearing aids go flying, or they dangle from the OF’s ears like earrings.

The OF who started the complaining said that one time, when he took the mask off, a hearing aid went flying and broke in two pieces. That is an expensive mask removal.

Another OF said, “Try wearing hearing aids, mask, and glasses.”

This OF is afraid eventually his ears will look like Dumbo’s. The OF said his ears are big enough already; they don’t need any help.

 

Why are prices up?

The OFs keep bringing up how much prices on everything have jumped. Not only food, but lumber, nails, gas — everything. The OFs cannot understand why.

Did all of a sudden the trees stop growing so there isn’t as much lumber? The OFs don’t think so.

One OF said he thinks that the big lumber companies pulled the same stunt the coffee companies did. They create their own shortage (or at least make believe there is one) and then jack up the prices, but lower the increased prices somewhat (at least back maybe one half) and their profits will still be greater than before.

One OF asked, “Isn’t that what is taught to the number crunchers at Harvard Business School?”

 

Purchasing practices

A week or so ago, the OGs were discussing buying habits of the sexes. This week, the purchasing of the OFs was not so much about habits, but opportunities, and quirks.

One OF mentioned he had, in the past, made quite a purchase of shirts. This OF claimed he had a ton of shirts and when he spotted a shirt he liked he bought it. The OF didn’t know why, but he said he was happy it wasn’t shoes.

To which another OF said he could relate to that because his wife has more shoes than a shoe store. This OF claims his wife still has shoes (never worn) in their boxes.

One OF questioned the OG with the shirts if he had pants to match the shirts. The OF claimed he didn’t — most of his pants were jeans for work, and he would wear one of the shirts with the jeans. The OFs thought that was cool.

Another OMOTM said he purchased mostly on opportunity. One such purchase was when a friend of his passed away and this friend had a good supply of shirts with logos on them. The OF had such a shirt on at Tuesday morning’s breakfast, and one OF commented that he was familiar with the area shown on the logos.

The OF said he had nothing to do with the logo, but the friend did and the OF purchased a complete box of them. The shirts were a perfect fit, and the OFs must say the shirts looked good on the OF and fit him well.

The OFs continued in this vein with yet another OF saying he had the same opportunity with neckties. He received a complete box of ties, all different, and if anyone has priced halfway decent ties lately, they would know this was quite a find for two bucks.

Now that the OF is not working, the OF does not need ties, so he is in the process of giving them away. Ties are something that rarely require a fit, unless the wearer needs one as a bib, like the Donald.

 

Mystifying meds

Medicine, aches, and pains are common among the OFs; sometimes the OFs have trouble understanding how and when to take certain medicines.

There are many examples: One is a pill that says, “Take with food,” and another pill says, “Take on an empty stomach.” How empty, and how much food comes into play.

Other instructions are, “Take twice a day, once with breakfast and once with dinner.” Whoops, now how is the one to be taken on an empty stomach work?

If breakfast is at 7 a.m., the medicine is taken. The no-food advice at 6 a.m. is OK, for one hour before eating. Now is two slices of toast and a banana enough food? This goes on and on.

Just think of all the combinations with such brief instructions. How much food is enough, how empty should the stomach be, no dairy (how long “no dairy” after the pill is taken)?

Just like instruction on many items, the manufacturers assume everybody knows how the medicine was made and should know how it works. It seems laughter is the best medicine — except for treating diarrhea.

The Old Men of the Mountain who made it to the Middleburgh Diner and all the world’s problems, if not solved, were at least discussed and the OFs ironing out most of the creases were: Mark Traver, Glenn Patterson, Joe Rack, Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Roger Chapman, Jake Herzog, Ted Feurer, Jake Lederman, Pete Whitbeck, Bill Lichliter, Robie Osterman, Russ Pokorny, Jack Norray, Lou Schenck, Herb Bahrmann, Gerry Chartier, Warren Willsey, Mike Willsey, Rev. Jay Francis, and me.

Post date: 
June 17, 2021

Print this page

by Frank L. Palmeri

When you consider how many ways we have to do ourselves in — falls, cuts, crashes, etc. — I’m amazed we mostly make it through the day. I don’t know about you, but I’ve sure had my share of near misses though.

The other day, we finally got to take a road trip to see our grandchildren. This after getting vaccinations and quarantining at home for 10 days just to be allowed into our daughter’s house (she’s a stickler when it comes to COVID safety precautions).

So now I’m loading stuff into the back seat of my truck. At one point, I stepped up on the running board, as I’ve done many times before, to rearrange things, Tetris-like, in the hope of fitting it all in. I extend my leg to go up but this time, instead of my head going inside the truck, I wound up bashing it right above my hairline, on the top of my forehead.

There is a metal loop up there on the truck that the upper door latch catches on, and I hit it hard. There was blood all over the place. What a way to start a road trip.

I ran into the house screaming with blood all over my face. My wife used paper towels to stop the bleeding. Quite frankly, no pun intended, I’d felt a sharp pain in my neck when I bashed my head, so I was thankful I’d gotten off with only a cut.

Still my wife thought it would be a good idea to get it looked at. I wound up having three staples put in my head to close the gash. Yes, staples. When I had them removed a week later, I could see they were made of fine metal wire with three prongs each.

I never heard of this before but they did work. I felt a little like Frankenstein.

The other day, I was sharpening some lawn-mower blades. Of course you have to check to see when you’re done. Normally I can do this with just a gentle pat of a finger, but this time I sliced myself and drew more blood. Are you sensing a pattern here? Yikes.

So many times I’m doing some kind of work on something, and I get so into it that time just passes. Then later on, when I go to take a shower, I notice cuts, scratches, and scrapes, having no idea how they happened. I honestly don’t know how that is possible. You would think you would feel those kinds of things.

Maybe your nerves get less sensitive as you get older. Or maybe when you’re really into something you get less sensitive to pain. Who knows.

One time, I was taking the kids to a church service. I had them in car seats in a mini-van. After I parked, I got out, opened the big, sliding side door, and reached in to get the first car seat out.

I don’t know what happened but I misjudged it badly and bashed my head into the top of the car, very hard. The funny thing is that was one service I really enjoyed. Maybe some sermons just go well with a light concussion.

A new thing that people do now that is very dangerous is get so involved with their phones that they will literally walk out in front of a car or walk into an open manhole cover. That is just scary. Nothing on your phone is that important.

In fact, I often forget to turn on the Bluetooth when I’m driving. When that happens and the phone rings, I just ignore it. I’m not going to risk an accident to answer a phone call, period. Whatever it is just has to wait.

I’ve had a bunch more of these kinds of unforeseen incidents over the years. I have:

— Walked into a patio door that was so clean it might as well have been invisible;

— Walked into a streetlight lamppost due to not paying attention;

— Grabbed a pot on the stove without an oven mitt;

— Showed someone how I cut myself while slicing a bagel, and in the process proceeded to cut myself exactly the same way again;

— Hammered my thumb;

— Stuck a screwdriver up my nose;

— Fell off a ladder (at least twice);

— Bashed my toes into many different things;

— Stepped on Legos while going to the bathroom in the dark.

And on and on and on. I guess I’m lucky to be alive at this point.

Mr. Webster defines an accident as “an unforeseen and unplanned event or circumstance.” There is a lot of wisdom in that.

For example, I still work on my own cars as much as I can. Sometimes you have to work underneath the car, which means jacking it up and putting it on stands. When I do this, I examine things every which way from Sunday to make absolutely, positively sure everything is solid and safe.

You would think that’s enough but you can never be sure. I received notice that many jack stands of the same brand I use had been recalled. The advice was to stop using them immediately.

I ran out to the garage and checked my numbers. Fortunately, I don’t have any of the ones that are in the recall, but what if I did and they collapsed while I was under the car? Or what if the ones I’m using now get recalled in the future?

All you can do is, whatever it is you’re doing, think safety first at all times, always. And pray.

You should always be aware of your circumstances and be careful at all times, but at the same time you don’t want to obsess over it. It’s possible to get so worried about potential calamities that you don’t ever want to leave the house, commonly known as agoraphobia.

Oh man. I don’t know about you, but being stuck home during the pandemic means I’m dying to travel and get outside to have some fun again. As soon as things open up, that’s just what I plan to do. I guess I’ll just try to be careful, hope for the best, and try not to bash my head while getting into vehicles.

Post date: 
June 15, 2021

Print this page

by John R. Williams

The Old Men of the Mountain met at the “Your Way Café” on Tuesday  morning, June 2, and the OMOTM are still glad to be out doing a few things more on the normal side.

The question comes up, “What is normal?”

Normal is such an ambiguous word, like sane. Who is really sane? And who decides what is normal, and who is sane? It sure tain’t this scribe. Someone once said it’s the guy with the biggest or most guns who decides.

As the farmers cut hay and the grass grows taller, the OFs are saying summer goes fast, and it isn’t even here yet.

Some of the radio and TV stations offer an allergy report, and they are correct, but the OFs say you can tell it is allergy season by the number and loudness of the sneezes. Some of the OFs complain about being continually stuffed up, and others can attest to that for they are just as stuffed up.

The pine trees are generating their pollen so there can be more pine trees — especially the white and red pines. When leaving the car to go for a walk in the woods, you find, upon returning, that you have to look all over the parking lot for your car because all the vehicles are yellow. They are now covered with pine pollen, and this pollen does not dust off easily.

The OFs were again talking about traveling but there was quite a conversation on streams and waterways. The OGs wonder where some of the local streams start and what some of these streams eventually run into or become.

One creek or (crick, as some people call it), is listed as being completely not where it actually is, according to Google maps. According to these maps, the Cobleskill Creek is running from West Berne, through Gallupville, and Google names the same creek (Cobleskill) as going from Richmondville through Cobleskill and Central Bridge.

What just happened to Fox Creek? Both creeks run into the Schoharie Creek only miles apart but there is no Fox Creek listed in Berne. There is a Fox Creek Market, but it is on the Cobleskill Creek. (Say what!) The OFs were quite intrigued with that bit of information; no wonder trucks get caught under bridges.

Relating to the area around Richmondville, the OFs asked each other if they ever noticed, when driving down the hill on Route 88, heading west, it is necessary to continually keep depressing the accelerator to maintain speed even though it looks and feels like the highway is going downhill. The OFs commented that this phenomenon is very strange to them because the traveler is actually going uphill.

 

Trees down

This is a “not so funny Magee” event. Two of the OMOTM have had large trees blow over on their homes; one is an actual OF and the other is the mother-in-law of another one of the OFs.

The OF had the tree blow over in the very high winds of late winter. The OF said the weather people were saying how the gusts in places were 60 to 70 miles per hour. It was during this time that a perfectly good poplar uprooted and blew out of the ground (the ground, of course, was quite wet) right into the back of the OF’s home.

The other OF said it was a willow that blew over on top of his mother-in-law’s home. Both OFs said it was something to watch the professional tree people work, how they had chainsaws that were sharp; the saws didn’t ever seem to bind up, and the saws started on one pull.

How anyone started in this business is hard to tell. No fear of heights must be at the top of the list, and not being afraid of birds that are ticked off because their nests are now gone. Cardinals are one thing, but condors would give this scribe time to pause and think about it.

 

The good die young

One other procedure that has come up recently is needles in the eyes for macular degeneration. This scribe cannot remember this as a subject for discussion in all the years of attending these breakfasts.

Now all of a sudden here are a bunch of OFs shuddering just to hear the process of needles in the eyes, but some of the OFs, themselves, or their wives are going through the process just like going to the doctor’s for a flu shot.

Like the OFs keep saying: It is tough to get old, yet it is necessary to be tough to get old. The other saying about age is: The good die young; that may be a blessing to keep them from putting up with getting old.

 

Warranty warning

The OFs are beginning to wonder a lot about warranties, or guarantees. The OFs say they can remember when the best guarantee was a good, firm, handshake.

Now they are given a folder of paper weighing about five pounds, stipulating the guarantee; how good it is and long it is etc., isn’t worth all that paper it is written on. One OF said for each paragraph that explains what the guarantee grants, there are 10 just below it that explains how the company or companies can get out of it.

In other words, most are not worth the paper they are written on. On March 10, 1876, Alexander Graham Bell made the first telephone call. Moments later, he learned his auto warranty had expired.

Those OFs who attended the breakfast at the Your Way Café in Schoharie, and can guarantee that, for them, old age is better than viewing grass from the roots, were: Robie Osterman, Rick LaGrange, Roger Chapman, Wally Guest, Harold Guest, Glenn Patterson, Mark Traver, Joe Rack, Russ Pokerny, Ted Feurer, Wayne Gaul, Jake Herzog, Peter Whitbeck, Bill Lichliter, George Washburn, Lou Schenck, Jack Norray, Herb Bahrmann, Henry Whipple, Otis Lawyer, Dave Hodgetts, Bob Donnelly, and me.

Post date: 
June 11, 2021

Print this page

by John R. Williams

On Tuesday, May 25, the Old Men of the Mountain met at Mrs. K’s Restaurant in Middleburgh. Memorial Day is coming up shortly, so short it will have come and gone by the time this hits the road, and the garden planting should begin, but according to the OMOTM many seeds and plants are already in the ground.

It appears that old or young people are getting anxious to get outdoors and back to some kind of normal routine. So the OFs were glad to be back at Mrs. K’s to fill in one little crack of the routine.

Shopping is not a favorite pastime of the OMOTM unless it is at a swap meet, or for sporting equipment, or an old plow. Pants, shirts, shoes and socks, and things like that do not fit in the category of shopping items the OFs like to shop for.

One OF’s wife said, “Going shopping for clothes for the old goat is not on my favorite things-to-do list either. The OG goes to the pants rack, sees something he might wear, looks at it, if the size is close, he takes it off the rack and to the check-out counter and we are done. This whole event takes about 10 minutes. The Old Goat doesn’t even try them on, and the old pair the OG has on looks just like the new pair he just bought.”

Another wife (by the way, this was at a picnic where the OMOTM were there with their wives) commented that, if her husband (OF) heard she was going shopping with the ladies, he would holler, “Hon, would-cha pick me up a couple pair of jeans while you are out? Mine are getting kinda ratty.”

“Ratty?” the wife said, “They are so ratty the washing machine refuses to wash them.”

“My husband has it down even better,” a wife added. “When he goes or finally has to go shoe shopping (and that is about every eight to 10 years or so) he finds shoes that fit and are comfortable to him. He buys them and one or two more pairs of the same thing. That is shoe shopping for him for another eight or 10 years.”

Shopping for a lawn mower is another story. One of the same ladies added the OF uses 20 gallons of gas going to every place that sells lawn mowers, trying to save two bucks, and he examines each mower to the nth degree, even if the hardware store just up the road is selling the exact same mower.

One lady summed it all by saying in an exasperated voice, “Lordy, Lordy, men! Save me from men. It is too bad we can’t procreate without them.”

 

Year of the Lilacs

This is the Year of the Lilacs. One OF said their whole backyard is purple; another OF had thought his lilacs were dead. There were only a few on the bush last year; however, this year the same bush is loaded and has more flowers than leaves.

Traveling on Route 443, en route to Schoharie and then Middleburgh, almost to Route 30, some noticed there is a beautifully maintained older home and this is the first year the OFs who travel that way to Mrs. Ks said there is almost a hedge of lilacs about 10 feet tall in alternating colors; purple, deep dark purple, and white. Quite impressive.

One OF mentioned that cutting them and bringing them inside, the whole house smells like lilacs, but unfortunately, they don’t last very long — only a day or so. This year, however, with the bushes being so prolific, it is not much effort to bring in a new batch every other day. That way, the smell of lilacs will cover up the smell of fish for supper, or the un-emptied cat box.

 

Easy winter

Last winter apparently was an easy winter for some of the wildlife because this year the OFs seem to have deer and wild turkeys all over the place, and even bears are making visits to the city and they don’t look scrawny.

One OF said most of the deer he has seen lately from small ones to pretty good-sized ones seem to be quite black, and not as orangey brown as they used to be. The turkeys seem to be in groups of eight to 10, sometimes even more, instead of just a few.

 

Better sleep

Most OFs don’t know what is causing this either but quite a few of the OGs at our end of the table said they have been sleeping better. What that has to do with anything this scribe does not know, but he had to add to the group that for some reason he is sleeping somewhat better and the dreams are not all nightmares.

Sleep is an elusive natural phenomenon just like going to the bathroom. We all do it, only with some it is more comfortable than others. The same goes for sleep; the more restful the sleep, generally the better the day.

One OF mentioned that all any of the OFs can do is talk about the weather in our little area of the globe while other areas are having earthquakes, Louisiana is having floods, and the Midwest is having tornadoes. As the OFs have said before, the Northeast may have its cloudy weather and is loaded with what we consider miserable weather but, for the most part at least, our weather is consistent.

 

A putt in their jitney

One OF talked about taking his wife out for a ride in their Model “T.” They stopped someplace for a while and, when the OF went to start it to continue on, the car wouldn’t start. Now there is something the owner had better know, how to not only run that vehicle, but what makes that vehicle tick, and how to fix it.

The OF is not going to call triple-A and have them come out and get it going. In this case, the OF knew what was going on, fixed it, and they were on their way. This scribe wonders if they have period costumes they don when out for a putt in their jitney?

 

No job? No problem

The OFs briefly discussed the jobs that are going without workers, and why no one seems to want these jobs. The OFs came up with a few theories why this is so; collectively most seemed correct.

The question was asked, “Do any of you OFs want to go back to work and fill in this need? There are jobs out there just waiting.”

The answers were, “No! Not on your life. No way. You can’t drag me back!”

This scribe guesses the answer is NO.

 “Yay! It’s the weekend!” said nobody who works in a restaurant.

Those OF who made it to Mrs. K’s Restaurant in Middleburgh and who do not have to scurry off to work were: Rick LaGrange, Roger Chapman, Wally Guest, Harold Guest, Mark Traver, Glenn Patterson, Joe Rack, Wayne Gaul, Ted Feurer, Jake Lederman, Pete Whitbeck, Lou Schenck, Jack Norray, Herb Bahrmann, Robie Osterman, George Washburn, Bill Lichliter, Jake Herzog, Elwood Vanderbilt, Dave Hodgetts, Bob Donnelly, and me.

Post date: 
June 8, 2021

Print this page

by Kanthi Bomareddy

Getting older can be scary: We might not be as healthy as we once were, and our skin begins to show our age. A healthy lifestyle can help reduce our risk for many major diseases, but what can we do about our skin? Is it possible to prevent or even reverse aging?

What is skin aging?

The largest organ in our body, our skin is vulnerable to internal and external causes of aging. The skin is divided into three layers: the epidermis (top), dermis (middle), and hypodermis (deep). As we age, the epidermis becomes thinner and loses its connection with the underlying dermis, resulting in fragility. The dermis loses collagen and elastin, proteins that keep our skin supple and firm.

There are two types of aging: chronological aging and photoaging. Chronological aging is the natural aging of our skin. It results in fine wrinkles and dry, thin skin with loss of underlying fat. Photoaging is caused by excessive ultraviolet, or UV, radiation.

UV radiation can be divided into UV-A and UV-B rays. UV-A rays penetrate the deeper layers of the skin to break down collagen and elastin fibers. UV-B rays penetrate only the superficial layers of the skin and cause sunburns and skin cancer. Photoaging results in coarse wrinkles, roughness, laxity, and irregular pigmentation.  

What causes aging?

Sun exposure without SPF )sun protection factor) protection is an important cause of aging. Additionally, tobacco smoking accelerates aging by remodeling elastic fibers in our skin, thereby causing stiffening and wrinkling.

Even the way you sleep affects the way your skin ages. Sleeping on your back avoids tension and compression to your facial skin. Sleeping with your face against a pillow can occlude the skin on the face, making it prone to clogged pores, acne, and lines.

Finally, “yo-yo dieting” or weight cycling, a pattern of weight loss followed by weight gain followed by loss can accelerate aging. Over time, the collagen and elastin in our skin begins to stretch and break down, leading to saggy, dull-appearing skin and exaggerated wrinkles.

Is there a magical fountain of youth?

There are certainly steps you can take in your daily life that can significantly slow the rate of aging. Daily broad-spectrum SPF 30 sunscreen can protect against photoaging. Smoking cessation and maintaining a healthy weight can help prevent the stretching and breakdown of skin proteins.

Drinking adequate water and moisturizing your skin can often improve the appearance of dry, wrinkled skin. The American Academy of Dermatology recommends a diet with plenty of fruits and vegetables and reports that consuming sugar and refined carbohydrates can accelerate aging.

The academy also recommends minimizing alcohol as it can dehydrate your skin. Avoid repetitive facial expressions, like squinting. Wear sunglasses whenever needed to avoid wrinkles around your eyes. Finally, make sure your skin is not irritated: Wash your face after sweating and avoid skin-care products that burn or sting.

Jimmy Buffett, who said, “Wrinkles will only go where smiles have been,” is right: Our skin is truly a reflection of our life — the sunny days, the laughs and smiles, the food, and everything in between. We might not be able to stop aging, but perhaps we don’t need to.

Getting older is beautiful: We are wiser, more confident, and more experienced. Enjoy the process while incorporating these small lifestyle changes to keep your skin healthy and radiant.

****

Community Caregivers is a not-for--profit agency supported by community donations, and grants from the Albany County Department for Aging, the New York State Department of Health and Office for the Aging, and the United States Administration on Aging.

Editor’s note: Kanthi Bomareddy, M.D. is a former Community Caregivers student volunteer and a recent graduate of Albany Medical College.

Post date: 
June 3, 2021

Print this page