Archive » March 2022 » Columns

— Photo from the Guilderland Historical Society

This is a view of the grist mill demolished in the 1920s and the covered bridge just beyond it. Both were gone by the early 1930s. You are looking downstream. The old factory building would have been down a bit beyond the bridge. This photo was most likely taken not long before the old mill in disrepair was razed.

A century or more ago, Frenchs Hollow would have been a familiar landmark to just about everyone in Guilderland, most of them having actually visited the scenic spot on one or more occasions. Today it is probable that the majority of Guilderland’s 37,000-plus residents have never even heard of the place, much less visited it.

Melting waters from the last Ice Age’s glacier carved through bedrock to create a narrow ravine. An ever-flowing creek later named the Normanskill followed the contour of the land to establish a streambed between the narrow banks. Evidence of Native American activities in this area have been uncovered by archeologists.

Here the rushing waters had the potential for water power, a key resource needed for early 18th-Century settlement, making the area attractive for a small number of Guilderland’s early settlers. The 18th- and early 19th-century history of the hollow is fragmentary.

Certainly by 1800 the spot had become known as Frenchs Hollow or Frenchs Mills due to the entrepreneurship of Abel French who had used the Normanskill’s water power to establish a saw mill, grist mill, and a cloth factory. Peter K. Broeck set up a woolen factory in 1795 as well.

Workers settled there, but Frenchs Hollow never was considered one of the town’s hamlets, lacking a one-room school, post office, church, or even a store. Guilderland Center or Fullers served the needs of Frenchs Hollow’s residents.

 

Revolutionary times

A tavern run by Jacob Aker, otherwise unknown, was supposed to have been in the hollow at an early period. Was it a meeting place for Revolutionary War Patriots?

According to French’s 1860 Gazetteer of New York State, to celebrate the good news of Burgoyne’s defeat at the Battle of Saratoga in 1777, at the top of the hill across the Normanskill a hollow chestnut tree was filled with a barrel of tar and set ablaze.

Another story associated with Burgoyne and Frenchs Hollow was recorded in an 1880s composition by a schoolgirl descendant of the Chesebro family who lived on the old Wemple farm not far west of the hollow.

It seems equipment carried by the defeated British forces was confiscated and brought south to Albany. Somehow one of these items, an oversized copper kettle with a “huge faucet as big as a man’s wrist” at the bottom, was obtained by Abel French.

French thought he’d find a use for it in his cloth factory, but eventually tossed it out into the lumber yard of his saw mill. A quarter of a century earlier, the girl’s grandfather as a schoolboy had measured the abandoned kettle, reporting it to be five feet deep and six feet across.

 

Changing uses

Early in the 19th Century, Abel French’s original cloth factory burned and the large brick building seen in late 19th-Century photographs was erected in its place. Supposedly the building wasn’t sturdy enough to accommodate later, heavier machinery so that it could no longer be used for manufacturing or weaving.

It is also likely that by the mid-19th Century, competition from other areas had an effect as well. The grist mill continued to operate into the early 20th Century because buckwheat and rye were important farm crops grown on Guilderland farms at that time. Locals called the buckwheat flour ground here “pancake timber.” The building was taken down in the early 1920s.

After Abel French’s death, the family continued to own the mill and factory building, leasing it out to others. Elijah Spawn and Son ran the grist mill and rented out the factory for social occasions, the scene of many a large gathering during the last decades of the 19th Century. However, it was still owned by the French Estate, a term used in The Enterprise.

Frenchs Hollow was located off of the Western Turnpike and the Schoharie Road, later called Schoharie Plank Road. Dirt roads connected to these main routes gave access to the mills there and today are designated Frenchs Hollow Road and Frenchs Mills Road.

It is no longer possible to access Frenchs Hollow from Route 146 by car as it once was because the Frenchs Mills Road railroad overpass is closed while the bridge over the Normanskill at the Hollow is now restricted to cyclists and pedestrians.

The Normanskill had to be bridged, but information about the earliest bridge is unknown. However, in 1869, a “spring freshet” washed out whatever bridge was there.

A Haupt style covered bridge, with a span of 62 feet, 8 inches, was built on the original stone abutments; this covered bridge is seen in many old photos. According to his descendants, Henry Witherwax was supposed to have constructed the trusses on open land near Fullers Tavern on the Western Turnpike, and then skidded them down to the Normanskill.

Twentieth-Century traffic took its toll and, in 1924, a motorbus’s rear wheels broke through the planking; it took five hours to get it unstuck. In 1933, the now inadequate covered bridge was demolished, replaced by a bridge that has been in turn judged inadequate and closed to motor traffic in 1987.

“Modern” technology encroached on Frenchs Hollow in 1865 when the Saratoga & Hudson Railroad was laid out, linking the New York Central tracks in South Schenectady with Athens, a village on the Hudson. Crossing the ravine at Frenchs Hollow was a major engineering and construction project for the time when a wooden trestle was built on stone abutments to support the tracks.

This first railroad was unprofitable, but the route was taken over by the New York, West Shore and Buffalo Railroad in 1883. Rebuilt more than once since that time to carry heavier and longer trains, the railroad trestle at Frenchs Hollow carries numerous, lengthy CSX freights daily and has never been out of use since the 1880s.

 

Social gatherings

During the 19th Century, Frenchs Hollow became a popular destination for social events, both indoors in the otherwise unused factory building and outdoors. It was a tradition for many years that the Sunday schools from the town’s churches join together there for a Town Picnic.

A popular spot at Frenchs Hollow, mentioned often in The Enterprise once it began publication in 1884, was Volkert Jacobsen’s two islands where there was a fine spring, spacious grounds, and plenty of shade. The exact location is unknown today, but the islands are probably now under the waters of the reservoir.

Elijah Spawn, who owned a farm there, also had a grove available for picnics. Food, ice cream, and baseball games were key features of the Sunday school picnics and, in 1889, it was estimated that 2,000 kids, parents, and friends attended with the Knowersville Band, and the Guilderland Center and Guilderland Drum Corps furnishing music “to the delight of all.”

In the 1890s, A.F. Spawn apparently remade his farm located on “the rapids” and likely under the waters of the reservoir today, into “Hillside Cottage,” a mini resort with a large tent adjacent and “Entertainment Hall,” probably the old factory building.

Guests, some traveling from nearby cities, others from nearby local hamlets, came to hear Sunday afternoon preaching or other entertainments in the tent or to attend dances in the “Hall.” All these activities were recorded in the Guilderland Center’s Enterprise column, although by the late 1890s mentions were no longer made of Hillside Cottage.

The old factory building, having been leased by Elijah Spawn and Son in the 1880s, had been repurposed into a venue for group gatherings. As early as the 1840s, before any of the town’s Methodist churches were built, Methodists had camp meetings at Frenchs Hollow, although they may have had open-air meetings rather than using the factory building.

A hugely popular event took place there the summer of 1887, just one example of the entertainments at Frenchs Hollow. It was given by the I.O. of G.T. (the International Organisation of Good Templars) of Guilderland Center where at 3:30 p.m. there was a baseball game, then a peach supper at reasonable cost, and an evening’s dramatic and musical program including two elocutionists from Amsterdam, and the Fullers Cornet Band and the Guilderland Center Boys Drum Corps to provide the music.

Let’s not forget that most arrived by horse and buggy and attendees were assured “two competent hands have been engaged to take care of the horses.”

A once well-known local poet, Magdalene LaGrange used one of these dinners followed by entertainment as the subject of a lengthy 120-line narrative poem composed in the 1880s entitled “The Drill.”

Beginning with, “An old factory three stories high, a basement below…,” it recorded the scene of one of these dinners with “The sandwiches, biscuits, pie and ham/ The cake, the preserves, the jelly and jam…” and told of the entertainment, describing a broom drill performed by “Twelve young ladies dressed in white/ Composed the drill we saw that night … The tall sweet leader’s name was Nell…” to the tune of “Bonnie Doon” played by a cornet band.

Both Guilderland Center’s Helderberg Reformed Church and St. Mark’s Lutheran Church made use of the building which Spawn advertised as “a large and commodious space” on two floors with “ample accommodation for horses.” The two churches alternated putting on suppers and entertainments there on Decoration Day (Memorial Day) for many years.

Finally, in 1901 the Reformed Church Ladies Social Union announced that the annual supper and entertainment would be at the church parlors in Guilderland Center, noting “for several years the old factory in Frenchs Hollow has generally felt to be unsafe and is generally felt that no considerable body of people should gather in the building.”

 

Factory demolished

The old factory building remained empty and decrepit until 1917 when it was taken down as part of the construction of the Watervliet Reservoir.

In 1917, the Watervliet Reservoir construction dammed the Normanskill after the city of Watervliet purchased much farmland in the area of Frenchs Hollow. As part of the reservoir project, the old factory building was removed and in its place a pumping station was built.

In the 20th Century, the hollow continued to be an outdoor recreation area for both children and adults. After the turn of the century, Sunday school picnics were more likely to be organized by individual churches, mainly Guilderland Center’s and Altamont’s.

Try to imagine the excitement of the 10 Altamont lads from Mrs. David Blessing’s Sunday school class who were crammed into Mr. Montford Sands’s touring car one summer day in 1908 to motor to Frenchs Hollow for a picnic.

Other picnickers over the years included Boy Scouts, Camp Fire Girls, and junior 4-H girls who were practicing campfire cooking. Hot-dog roasts were almost always mentioned as being on the menus. It was also a popular spot for adults to picnic informally and for decades the Normanskill provided a swimming hole attractive to all ages.

Over the centuries, Frenchs Hollow has evolved from what must have been an excellent hunting ground and fishing waters for Native Americans to a prosperous early American settlement based on water power.

During the 19th and 20th centuries, the scenery attracted local folks as both an outdoor and indoor recreation spot. Once the mill, covered bridge, and old factory buildings were gone in the 20th Century, it was no longer so charming, but the popular swimming hole remained and that’s what many of today’s Guilderland’s residents associate with Frenchs Hollow.

March 15, 2022 called the Old Men of the Mountain to breakfast at Mrs. K’s Restaurant in Middleburgh. The 15th was shortly after the time change, which may be the reason for taking so long for the OFs to gather for breakfast.

The early risers were asking themselves, “Where is everybody?”

Slowly the OFs began to straggle in and the restaurant began to fill up with the OFs and others.

Almost as soon as the OFs arrived, the opening conversation was on the price of gas and prices in general. Just by the title of this little report, to keep the law off the backs of some of the members, the opening descriptive word is “old.”

That is a good indication of how the income of the group is arrived at; it is basically a fixed income that was fixed many years ago and adjusted somewhat for inflation, but nothing like what is being experienced now. This really causes some planning on living expenses by many old folks.

One OF mentioned that rising prices were expected, but in gradual increments, nothing like now. This OF used one quick example of how much it must cost to fill the tank of a tractor trailer and if we are talking a large fleet of trucks — wow! There is a chunk of change.

They (“Who are they?” one OF asked. The answer was, there is always one wise guy, whoever “they” are just fill in your own blank, you know who “they” are) say we can’t burn wood, we can’t burn coal, so what are we supposed to do, freeze? 

“Go electric,” one OF mentioned and arrive at that by wind, sun, hydro, but not by burning something.

Not only is it the shock of gas, but the price of the OFs latest power bill. One OF was wondering where this all began. It is not that some of these bills eased up by a few percentage points, but some seemed to go from high to ridiculously high in one billing period. One OF thought maybe all the big-wigs at the big power companies needed another mansion all at once.

An OF had a good suggestion concerning everyone living north of the Mason Dixon line. He felt those people should be moved south of the Mason Dixon line at government expense, then there would not be such a fuss about heating oil or gasoline; we would let the sun do it all.

“Too simple,” another OF said, and this OF thought it was slowly being done anyway. If you go south or southwest you find people there who have moved from New York, Canada, Michigan, etc.

 

Daylight Saving

This scribe knows there were other topics but in the scribe’s notes are eight entries: Prices, gas, travel, guessing (?), painting, fuel oil, waitress, Ukraine — that is it.

There is a note on time change, but that was quick. The basic thought was: Why mess with changing the time? Leave it alone.

A little research showed that Daylight Saving Time started in 1918. Apparently, it was originally considered by none other than Benjamin Franklin (in the 18th Century!) who thought sleeping late in the summer was a waste of productive time and the extra hour of sunlight in the evening would reduce candle consumption.

So the time was changed for farmers a long time ago, but the light bulb changed all that so let the cows and clocks be. One old farmer said, “We never changed the time; we went on cow time.”

 

Creatures of habit

The OMOTM are creatures of habit, the word “guessing” was brought on by the waitress saying to one OF just as the OF was about to order, “Don’t tell me, let me guess and see if I am right.”

She guessed and she was. There must be a competition in Middleburgh because the waitress in the Middleburgh Diner also does a pretty good guessing job.

However, at Mrs. K’s, many of the OFs don’t even have to open their mouths; the waitress will bring breakfast out, put it in front of the OFs and the OFs will start eating and never know they didn’t order anything but thought they did.

 

What is a patient portal?

Then there is another thing that has to do with the word “old” and “old folks,” which the OMOTM have mentioned before — computers and smartphones. So many people think that everyone has a smartphone or a computer but often they don’t.

One OF said, “Try calling a doctor’s office to just make an appointment.”

The menu first says, “If this is an emergency, hang up and dial 9-1-1.”

Then the robot on the phone directs the caller to the patient portal. Whoops! To many seniors, this is a big confusing issue.

What is a patient portal? Some of the OFs who have one feel the thing is so complicated that it doesn’t work, or the OF doesn’t understand it. All the OF wants to do is make a simple appointment.

The OFs say not all offices are like that. There are some offices with a way out so the OF can actually speak to a person after puzzling his way through a lengthy menu.

There has to be a better way that is not so complicated. One OF mentioned he was led to understand all this electronic stuff would make things better. Well, for him it is so confusing the OF hates to call his doctor. Talk about driving up the OF’s blood pressure — all the OF has to do is call his doctor’s office.

Those Old Men of the Mountain who are glad that it is not necessary to call the restaurants for an appointment are: Joe Rack, Mark Traver, Wally Guest, Harold Guest, Glenn Patterson, Roger Shafer, Robie Osterman, George Washburn, Bill Lichliter, Jake Herzog, Ken Parkes, Elwood Vanderbilt, Dave Hodgetts, Bob Donnelly, Herb Bahrmann, Lou Schenck, Jack Norray, John Dabrvalskes, Paul Guidon, and me.

— Photograph by Camille Ruf (1872–1939)

James Joyce in 1918

For Elizabeth Stack

As I was preparing to become an Irish citizen years ago, I started reading everything I could find on “Ireland,” not just in the 26 counties of the Republic but the six up north as well.

And to supplement my study, seven out of eight years I went to Ireland to see things for myself. As I sat in my grandmother’s house, drinking tea with a cousin, the aged Kerryman told me: The kitchen is an add-on; it’s where we used to tie the pony up.

When asked about my trips there, I said I was going not to see the country but to find out who the Irish were — a much more difficult task as anyone who’s been to Ireland with a keen nose knows.

And those wishing to take the approach I did, I urge: Learn how to listen (well); don’t ask direct personal questions — the Irish bat them away like pesky gnats — and keep in mind that the Irish listen with their eyes. So watch what they see.

As you might imagine, my study of Ireland brought me to “the potato” (práta in Irish) — not only its role during the “The Great Hunger,” as the Irish poet Patrick Kavanagh called the famine, but also how the Irish grow them: for centuries in “drills.” On the Internet an Irish farmer shows how: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zL_llRUxbz4

As you might imagine as well, the group I was (and am) most taken with are Ireland’s poets and writers. For centuries people have said that, when it comes to putting things down on paper, the Irish do it best. There’s an old expression: “The Irish have a way with words.”

Even the man on the street speaks in a kind of fancy prose. You might hear, “A widow and her money are soon courted” or, “Contentment is greater than a kingdom.” After their first trip to Ireland, travelers come back and say: I love the way those people talk — then try to imitate the lilt (unsuccessfully).

And, as anyone familiar with language knows, the Irish have a special relationship with the subjunctive — the mood of conditionality. I think it comes from being suppressed for so long.

Those familiar with the Irish literary canon know well that this year, 2022, is the hundredth anniversary of the publication of James Joyce’s “Ulysses.” It’s the Babe Ruth of books.

Whenever the best-of lists of “greatest stories ever told” come out, “Ulysses” is up there with “Don Quixote,” “War and Peace,” and other epics of that stature. Some Irish say they like “Ulysses” better than the Bible.

In retrospect, these many years later, it seems sad that, when “Ulysses” first came out, it was censored and confiscated like a piece of smut — and chief among the confiscators was not the Roman Catholic Church but the United States Post Office.

The book first appeared in 1918 in serialized form in The Little Review, an artistic, progressive magazine — Emma Goldman wrote for it — out of New York’s Greenwich Village. Its motto was: “Making No Compromise with the Public Taste.”

But a lady from Chicago took issue with that. She wrote a letter to the editor saying “Ulysses” was “Damnable, hellish filth from the gutter of a human mind born and bred in contamination.”

When the New York Society for the Suppression of Vice got involved, the publisher and editor of The Little Review were hauled into court.

The moral entrepreneurs were especially incensed by Chapter 13 — the famous “Nausicaa” episode — which depicts an encounter between a timid Dublin man, Leopold Bloom, and a beautiful Irish woman, Gerty MacDowell, who’s sitting on the beach of the Sandymount Strand in suburban Dublin. From afar, she’s staring into the eyes of a man whose eyes are penetrating hers.

The two never touch but the eye-exchange gets so hot that Gerty lifts her skirt to the top of the calf and Bloom explodes like a Roman candle.

At trial, Margaret Anderson, the publisher of The Little Review, and Jane Heap, the journal’s editor, were told to explain why the image of a man masturbating while a woman teases him with fantasy, should not be kept from public view. The women did of course but the court disagreed.

The Feb. 22, 1921 edition of The New York Times began its report on the outcome of the case with a four-tier headline: (1) IMPROPER NOVEL COSTS WOMEN $100; (2) Greenwich Village Publisher and Editor Fined for Producing “Ulysses.” (3) WOMAN’S DRESS DESCRIBED; (4) Prosecution, on Anti-Vice Society Complaint, Said Description Was Too Frank.

The original complainant for the case was the Vice Society’s Secretary, John Sumner; he must have preened all the way home that night, recalling the words of Judge James McInerney, one of the three justices on the bench, “I think that this novel is unintelligent and it seems to me like the work of a disordered mind.” “Disordered mind” in legal-speak means crazy.

Kevin Birmingham’s “The Most Dangerous Game: The Battle for James Joyce’s ‘Ulysses” touches on all these points, calling attention to the irony involved. He says that, while the book “was banned to protect the delicate sensibilities of female readers … [it] owes its existence to several women. It was inspired, in part, by one woman [Joyce’s wife, Nora Barnacle], funded by another [Harriet Shaw Weaver], serialized by two more [Margaret Anderson and Jane Heap, joint editors of The Little Review] and published by yet another [Sylvia Beach].”

“Ulysses” ran into a problem with the censors in Britain as well so Joyce had to wait 10 years before Random House put the smut-sniffing dogs to sleep. The case was the United State of America v. One Book Entitled Ulysses by James Joyce. In his decision, Judge John M. Woolsey said while, “in many places the effect of Ulysses on the reader undoubtedly is somewhat emetic, nowhere does it tend to be an aphrodisiac.”

In 1948, the Catholic Church got involved in a similar case when Patrick Kavanagh’s “Tarry Flynn” came out, a touching account of rural life in 1930s Ireland. But the Éire Censorship Board declared the book “indecent and obscene,” implying that Tarry had followed Bloom’s lead.

Kavanagh kept saying the book was not about him but it is.

Years ago, I used to hear every St. Patrick’s Day there were, “only two kinds of people in the world, the Irish, and those who wish they were,” which seems so puerile now.

I also heard the Irish Blessing: “May good luck be with you Wherever you go, and your blessings outnumber the shamrocks that grow. May your days be many and your troubles be few, May all God's blessings descend upon you, May peace be within you, May your heart be strong, May you find what you’re seeking wherever you roam.”

Some say the prayer is sentimental but my concern is that it leaves out a blessing: May you go to your nearest library or bookstore and get a copy of Anthony Cronin’s “Dead as Doornails” containing prose as good as Joyce and poetry the equal of Yeats.

Cronin talks about how he met and interacted with and loved three Irish literary giants during 1940s and 1950s Dublin: Brendan Behan, Brian O’Nolan [aka Flann O’Brien aka Myles na Gopaleen], and Kavanagh — all of whom kept striving for self-esteem in a world where recognition was in short supply.

I might add that those three incarnations of Ireland’s literary soul died early from the drink — Behan at 41 — and that Cronin handles the weakness with understanding.

Today, March 17, 2022, I’d like to wish all our Enterprise readers a Happy St. Patrick’s Day and to those afflicted by these troubled times: Slàinte Mhaith.

In the most recent fishing regulations, the state’s Department of Environmental Conservation made a big change. Weather permitting, you can enjoy this change between now and April 1, the traditional opening of the statewide trout season.

In the past, DEC, which sets fishing regulations, established the statewide season beginning on April 1 and ending in either September or October. According to Pat Festa, my friend and retired New York State fisheries biologist, at one time the season closed earlier — on Sept. 1.

Then, Pat advised, the season was lengthened, first to Sept. 15, then to Sept. 30, and finally to Oct. 15.

In addition to changes to the statewide season over the years, DEC began setting special regulations for specific streams. For example, it set regulations allowing catch-and-release year ’round on some Catskill streams, extended the season on the Kinderhook, and allowed year ’round fishing on a segment of the Battenkill, in Washington County.

In the latest changes to the regulations, from April 1 to Oct. 15, anglers may fish for trout using all allowable methods and may keep fish — unless special regulations say otherwise.

From Oct. 16 to March 31, anglers may pursue trout, but must release any fish caught and may only use artificial lures. As with the rest of the state regulations, this general regulation may be superseded by regulations applied to specific streams.

With this change, New York joins other states, such as Colorado and Massachusetts, in having, in effect, a year ’round trout-fishing season. John Gierach once told me that Colorado has had a year ’round season since the 1960s.

He went on to say, “The state thought: If those maniacs want to get out in February, let them!”

For more information on these regulatory changes, please visit the following place on the DEC website: https://www.dec.ny.gov/press/123901.html. This part of the website has a link to the DEC fisheries research, which supported making the change and the DEC plan for evaluating how the change affects trout fisheries.

Although these regulations open many more trout fishing opportunities, an angler’s luck still depends on weather and water conditions. On several St. Patrick’s Days, I fished on catch-and-release waters. On one stream, I hooked and landed a 17-inch brown trout. Another year, I caught a 10- or 11-inch brown trout on the Battenkill. In other years, angling on special regulation waters ended fishless.

If your schedule, water levels, and the weather allow you to fish this year before April 1 — or after — I hope you have a fun and safe beginning to your fishing season!

The Old Men of the Mountain met at the Chuck Wagon Diner in Princetown on Tuesday, the first day of March 2022, and we had no Caesar. Many times it isn’t worth clawing your way to the top because on the way up there are a whole gang of ladders with people on them who want to be there too.

This scribe listened to a conversation on the prices some pay to Spectrum for the privilege of watching TV, having a computer, and a phone. There are times (when comparing the times and what is on TV and the price of receiving this information) when this question comes up: Is it (the price of this information) worth it?

Apparently these OFs were discussing that exact same predicament. Are some of these categories even worth the money? From what this scribe could gather, the answer was no.

There was also quite a discussion on the environment and the use of electricity. The conversation kept revolving and the talk went along until the OGs were in areas they only had a little knowledge of. There were a few who said, “I think that” or “I think this.”

One OF mentioned that he thought he would wire his home with #6 wire so he could charge his vehicles. That did not work out so it wasn’t done. The way things are going, it appears the OFs are going to be forced into purchasing electric vehicles.

Indirectly, this is a continuation of the (to be continued) topic a couple of columns back when the discussion was on electric cars. The electric car is not commonplace yet, but at four bucks a gallon it will make some think about investing in one.

Again, some of the OFs think internal combustion engines, or electric motors is not the way to go. The way to go is magnetism. One OF thinks many scientists are working on that possibility today and in the near future it will be the new best thing.

 

Reflections on history

At one table, there were two OFs who knew something about the local history of the town of Knox, and Central Bridge, Old Central Bridge, and the environs of those two villages in Schoharie County. The town of Knox is celebrating its bicentennial this year; hence the discussion on the history of the area and what these towns were like years ago.

It is interesting to some as to why some of these small towns are even here, or where they are. How did they start? Why is Knox where it is? Why is Altamont where it is? The answers to these questions, one used to say, were in the library; now they say, go to the net and find out.

At one time, the OMOTM had three OFs in their high nineties; today, we still have three OFs in their nineties and they have memories of early times, but we are talking about OFs from the start of the OMOTM.

In some cases, that adds thirty years to the history. At that time, we were getting history lessons from when God had his angel crew making dirt.

The interesting part is that the really senior members still have good minds and memories and actually remembered what the town of Knox, along with the Bernes, Gallupville, and the surrounding areas looked like, and how much different the activity was in these small towns. From their remembrances, it was much different than today.

Then it was horses; now it is electric cars. Electricity and phones then were just toys. Now the OFs are talking about wiring their houses so they can have high voltage and charge their electric cars faster.

One OF suggested, look what we have seen and done in 70 or 80 years; what will a 10-year-old kid see in the year of 2082? Better yet, what will the music be like? To many OFs, today’s music is just noise. (Now the OMOTM have upset the younger crowd.)

Somehow into this conversation the subject of cemeteries came up; these plots of ground do have something to do with history. Along with the large, basically church-owned and church-run cemeteries, are many family plots.

So many have been forgotten and left to be covered by weeds, and woods, with stones fallen over and now covered up. The OFs wonder how much history is buried in these family plots.

How many journals have been thrown away of those who lived in these small towns? One OF queried if these journals or records were ever able to be resurrected, would the discovery of them change history?

The conversation even included the likes of Thomas Edison, and George Westinghouse. How this fits in is questionable, but at the time seemed relative. Westinghouse’s death was getting very close to when some of the older OFs were born. Thomas Edison passed away just two years before this scribe was born.

Sometimes it causes a few OFs to wonder why they were allowed to tread this planet for so long and make it to breakfast. It would be great if the eyes did not dim, the heart beat strong, the aches and pains were held at bay, and the mind functioned completely.

Those who are allowed to trod and are having breakfast Tuesday, but suffer from all the other maladies in one way or another and still made it to the Chuck Wagon Diner, were: Jake Lederman, Ted Feurer, Russ Pokorny, Roger Shafer, Marty Herzog, Glenn Patterson, Mark Traver, Joe Rack, Paul Guidon, Bill Lichliter, Robie Osterman, Elwood Vanderbilt, Dave Hodgetts, Bob Donnelly, Rev. Jay Francis, Jack Norray, Lou Schenck, Herb Bahrmann, Jake Herzog, John Dabrvalskes, and me.

— Photo by Frank L. Palmeri

Using index cards, Frank L. Palmeri maps the notes on the music staff to the strings and frets on his guitar.

There are some things that are so perfect they can’t be improved on. A few that quickly come to mind are the #2 lead pencil, the Victor mouse trap, the Zippo lighter, and the Swiss Army knife.

Today I’d like to talk about another perfect thing that we really take for granted, and that is the standard 3-by-5-inch index card. Yes, those ubiquitous little white, lined index cards are among mankind’s most powerful intellectual and organizational devices, even in the computer age. Index cards rock.

What got me into index cards recently was my continued study of music. I’m to the point now where I can actually pick up sheet music and attempt to play songs.

Don’t take this lightly, believe me, because there are many well known, extremely rich and famous musicians and songwriters who have said publicly for years that they don’t know how to read music. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I know I want to be able to look at written music and, if nothing else, at least get a feel for the piece.

So I needed a way to map the notes on the music staff to the strings and frets on the guitar. What I did was make up six index cards, one for each string. Each card clearly shows me which notes on the music staff map to which notes on the guitar fretboard.

By doing it this way — one string to one index card — I get the power of “less is more.” It is much easier to learn it one string at a time, at least for me.

This is where index cards shine. By limiting the sheer amount of information they can comfortably contain, they force you to pare down to its essence whatever it is you are studying. How great is that?

I can still remember my kids making up index cards or “flashcards” to help study for tests. We’d go over the material with them, reading the questions off the cards, over and over, until they got it. What an effective way to study.

Just having to make up the cards in the first place is helpful, and then the repetition, over and over; you can’t beat it. Heck, if you’re not careful, you could also learn the material by doing this kind of studying with them, haha.

I like to read thrillers and mysteries. Often I find myself thinking how it was possible for the author to keep track of so many characters and plot lines. Turns out some of our greatest writers use index cards to help organize all this stuff.

A popular method is to stick index cards up on a large cork board or lay them out on a large table, and then move them around as necessary to complete the “story arc.” Apparently Vladimir Nabokov of “Lolita” infamy was a huge proponent of writing this way. What a great idea. To think that these simple little cards can assist in creating truly great writing is pretty amazing.

Speeches, books, scientific research — all of this creative activity and more has been powered by the humble index card. Before computers, they were used to form personal contact databases as well (the classic desktop “Rolodex” was essentially a rolling collection of sorted index cards).

Again, when you write the information down yourself, it just helps to reinforce it. Contrast that with someone handing you a business card. Not the same.

I have a little spiral-bound book I was given for Christmas one year in which I write my favorite recipes. My wife and her mom used index cards for their favorites. Some of their cards, like the one for lasagna and the one for apple pie, are well worn because we use them so much.

The great thing about using index cards for recipes is you can organize them into those little boxes that make it so easy to find them later. Maybe I should switch.

I’ve been to plenty of training sessions where index cards were used to jot down ideas for group reflection and discussion. I think Post-It notes, because they can be stuck on whiteboards and walls, have usurped the index card in the business world for brainstorming activities. When you think about it, you realize that a Post-It note is simply an index card with sticky stuff on the back, so it’s still kind of the same thing.

If you’re old like me you must remember the card catalog that was used in libraries for years and years. The cards allowed you to search for a book by title, subject, and author.

In fact, these cards and the index searchable model that they represented became the basis for the computer databases that are used today for library cataloging. The system, enabled by the humble index card, was so versatile that the computer systems created from it can easily handle the DVDs, CDs, magazines, and all the other great stuff that libraries so wonderfully make available to us. Awesome.

These days, when you attend a class or presentation, the first thing everyone wants to know is if the PowerPoint (the computer slide show) will be made available. That’s great if it is, but how often do you really go back and look at it later?

A better thing to do is, as the presentation goes on, to write the main idea of whatever point the speaker is making on the back side of an index card. Then you can write the details on the lined side.

The advantages of doing it this way are that it is an active process — you are writing down information, which will help retain it — and the cards are very portable so you can take them with you and easily pull them out at a later time. I wish I’d known about this method of note-taking when I was in school.

In researching index cards, I came across something I’d never heard of before — a “cropper hopper.” This is the generic term for a box used to store photographs, but which can easily be repurposed to store index cards in an orderly way. Just do a search on “cropper hopper” and see what you find. Pretty great idea.

My new guitar-note index cards are going to help me learn to read sheet music. Now that I know how powerful index cards are, I’ll be using them for many more things in the future I’m sure.

If you’re still not convinced how great index cards are, let me leave you with this:

“Father emptied a card file for Margot and me and filled it with index cards that are blank on one side. This is to become our reading file, in which Margot and I are supposed to note down the books we’ve read, the author and the date.” — Anne Frank

Next time you’re in the dollar store, pick up a pack of index cards. You’ll be glad you did.

On Tuesday, Feb. 22, in the year of our Lord (A.D.) 2022, written as 2/22/22 (which is almost as bad as being bombarded with 444-4444) the Old Men of the Mountain met at Mrs. K’s in Middleburgh. Not only is the date unusual, but an OF mentioned, even with the warm weather, he claimed it was fake, and the rodent in Pennsylvania was correct, we are going to have six more weeks of winter.

The Old Men of the Mountain rotation is out of whack so the idea the OFs were here, and next week we are there, is going to take just one weird go-around to get things back in order. This is going to be fun, but spreading the wealth is what it is all about. Some of the OFs said, if we are spreading wealth, spread some our way because we could use it.

One thing about the Old Men of the Mountain is, if anyone has a ton of money, these OFs are hiding it very well. The OF who did flaunt a bit passed away a long time ago.

This OF plied the old trick of taking a couple of twenties and placing one on each end of a stack on singles, folding it, then holding it together with a rubber band. The wad now looked like it was a grand, but in reality it was only about fifty or sixty bucks — if that. Ya gotta watch these old goats.

There was some conversation about the Middleburgh Rod and Gun Club and how active it is. Not only active, but continually gaining the number of members they now have.

The club reportedly works with the Boy Scouts and Cub Scouts, teaching them about archery. Plus they are working with many kids about hunting and gun safety. Where could one go to get the best instruction on these subjects better than a rod and gun club?

As usual, around this time of year, the OFs talked about what birds they have been seeing. We have reported on this many times before.

We have reported that robins don’t count because some never leave as long as there is a nice patch of staghorn sumac around to winter them over. The typical birds, like the red-winged blackbird, have shown up so the early birds will be surprised by the current weather as if they haven’t been surprised by lousy weather in the past.

One OF said he has a friend who has a parrot and the bird escaped (or maybe just wanted a little adventure in its life) a couple of weeks ago. The OF said his friend thought it was gone, for a few reasons.

The friend thought someone might have picked up the parrot, or the parrot might have frozen to death, or the parrot might have had enough sense to continue to fly south. For any reason though, the friend thought the parrot was gone.

Ah! But it wasn’t!

A couple of days later, it showed up on top of the dog house. The OF said the friend left the back doors open and put some food in its cage, brought that cage by the back door, and in a couple of hours the parrot flew into the cage and started eating like it never left. Like at the beginning — the bird just wanted a little adventure.

 

Where is the younger crowd?

It is winter time and there is still maintenance being done by the OFs who have an interest in the Long Path. The path does see some activity in the winter, but not as much as the summer.

Snowshoers use a small portion of the path where it traverses through Thacher Park during the winter months. Hmmm. When else do people snowshoe than in the winter months?

At one time, there were a few OMOTMs who did work on the path, but these OFs are getting older and they mentioned that they do not see many younger people stepping up to take their place.

This seems to be true in many organizations. Many churches have noticed their congregations consist mostly of white hair (or no hair) individuals.

One OF thought that the younger crowd is attending more active, and modern churches; this same OF thought that volunteerism is still at work in younger people but it seems to take a different direction; however, the OF could not quite put his finger on it.

Another OF mentioned that the kids of today are the same as when the OFs were kids. Today’s kids are no different. It is us, we are old and out of the loop, just like we thought our parents were. We are now our parents.

This scribe received a card from his grandson. It was more or less a proclamation of “The Ancient Order of Ye Olde Farts.” This card stated:

“Let it be known to all that you have reached the age of eligibility and have been accepted in the ‘Ancient Order of Ye Olde Farts.’ Belching, groaning, wheezing, and snorting are bodily noises you are now allowed to emit without guilt. In addition, you may now pass gas, let a windy, cut the cheese, or just plain fart in public without the need to apologize.”

Witnessed this 22nd day of  February 2022 by the following in attendance at Mrs. K’s Restaurant in Middleburgh, New York were: Joe Rack, Mark Traver, Paul Nelson, Rick LaGrange, Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Glenn Patterson, Jake Lederman, Ted Feurer, Roger Shafer, Russ Pokorny, Jake Herzog, Bill Lichliter, Robie Osterman, Elwood Vanderbilt, Rich Vanderbilt, Dave Hodgetts, Bob Donnelly, John Dabrvalskes, and me.