Archive » October 2022 » Columns

Unlike the current controversy that swirls around Columbus and the impact of his voyages, to Americans in 1892 Columbus represented the heroism of a great explorer whose discoveries were considered the first beginnings of our great country.

The nation went all out to celebrate the 400th anniversary of his voyages with events ranging from patriotic programs in schools, to  parades, erection of Columbus statues, the issuance of special United States commemorative stamps and coinage, and President Benjamin Harrison’s declaration of Oct. 21 as a national holiday honoring what was considered Columbus’s discovery of America.

Guilderland joined in with other Americans participating in commemorative activities.

That March, a message appeared in New York State’s newspapers, including The Enterprise, directed at teachers alerting them to the “National Columbus Public School Celebration to be held on October 12, 1892.”  New York State Superintendent of Public Instruction Andrew Draper concluded by hoping that “trustees, parents, pupils and all will join to make this one of the greatest celebrations of the age.”

The pressure was on for teachers to plan public displays of student programs to instruct and entertain parents and townspeople.

When Oct. 12 rolled around, Altamont’s school children came through, earning much praise from the spectators who attended their program. Urged by The Enterprise to attend “to encourage teachers and pupils by your presence,” residents were not disappointed by the performance as students sang national airs and gave recitations with many of them in costume as they acted out dialogues.

Over at the small Fullers one-room school, children also put on a well-received program described by the Fullers correspondent as a “literary entertainment.” There were pupils marching, singing, and wearing costumes and the program ended with a dialogue of three pupils representing Liberty, George Washington, and Uncle Sam.

At the conclusion of the program, a flag was unfurled. Observing all of this was a “host of visiting relatives and friends of the children,” all praising the pupils’ performances.

Even the tiny Settles Hill School entertained their neighbors and parents with various exercises, ending with the unfurling of a flag for their audience. Guilderland Center pupils also raised a new flag after previous fundraising.

While no other reports of school performances appeared in The Enterprise, it seems there were probably programs on Oct. 12 in the town’s other schools as well since marking the event seemed to be a mandate from above.

Albany celebrates

When the Oct. 21 legal holiday arrived, Albany marked it with an all-day celebration featuring a series of parades, beginning in the morning with a firemen’s parade, followed in the afternoon with a military and civic parade, and closing the holiday that evening in a torchlight illuminated bicycle parade, bicycles being a new fad in 1892.

In one of the day’s earlier parades, the Altamont Band performed, The Enterprise commenting the next week, “representing our village, in company of the crack bands of the City, we feel proud of them.”

For this occasion, the D&H ran a special early morning excursion train into Albany making stops all along the line, including at Altamont and Meadowdale, with a return trip that night leaving Albany at 11:15 p.m.

The Enterprise weighed in the next week, writing, “Our Village was well represented at the Columbus celebrations in Albany and all seemed pleased with the exercises.”

Columbian Exposition

The next year, Chicago was the destination of many adventurous Guilderland residents who, along with millions of other Americans, journeyed to see the wonders of the Columbian Exposition. The culmination of the 400th anniversary celebrations of Columbus’s discovery, it was the greatest world’s fair of its time.

This international exposition, displaying 65,000 exhibits in buildings covering 686 acres, ran from May 1, when it was opened by President Grover Cleveland, until Oct. 31, 1893.

It’s no wonder that Guilderland’s Barney Fredendall commented upon his return home from the fair, “It will take two years to see it all.”

Organizers of the fair realized that attracting large numbers of visitors was essential to its success. While “hype” may be a modern term, those 19th-Century businessmen seemed to grasp the concept.

A steady stream of press releases, accompanied by woodcut illustrations of buildings and attractions were sent out to 30,000 U.S. and Canadian newspapers to stir up excitement among their readers.

The Altamont Enterprise was apparently on the mailing list, running frequent, lengthy front-page articles with headlines such as “The Rush at Chicago,” “Getting Ready For the Opening of the Fair,” “The Fair is Ready,” “The Fair is Open,” “The Great Fair — Bewildering and Amazing Midway Pleasures,” and “The Great Fair — Its Fascinating Beauty Under Summer Skies.”

How to get from Guilderland to Chicago and at what expense were the prospective fairgoers’ first considerations. The writer of The Enterprise’s “Village and Town” column asked readers, “Are you going to the Fair? If so, you should see the inducements offered by the World’s Fair Excursion and Hotel Association. For particulars apply at the Enterprise Office.”

An alternative choice came from Ferguson and Wormer in Voorheesville whose Enterprise ad invited those wishing to view the fair to join the World’s Fair Association to “save money and secure comfortable hotel rooms.”

Both of the railroads serving Guilderland advertised in The Enterprise special rates to travel to the Midwest. For $16.50, the D&H offered a round-trip ticket for Chicago-bound passengers willing to take specially scheduled excursion trains. One left Altamont at noon, Monday, July 24.

After transferring to the Erie Railroad at Binghamton, the travelers arrived in Chicago at 4:15 p.m. the next day. Passengers must have reached their destination with the 1893 version of jet lag after riding sitting up on day coaches throughout the 28-hour trip.

More affluent fairgoers could travel on a regularly scheduled train, paying for a $26.50 ticket that included sleeper-car accommodations. The D&H assured ladies traveling alone that special preparations were made for their convenience and comfort.

Guilderland Center and Fullers Station’s depots were on the route of the West Shore. A West Shore ad during the last weeks of the fair offered special rates on “magnificent excursion trains,” the special round-trip ticket from New York City for $17, which was proportionately reduced from stops along the way.

Travelers would be accompanied by a West Shore agent who would advise regarding accommodations in Chicago and point out the sights along the way. Fares on both railroads dropped during the last weeks of the fair in the autumn.

Upon arrival in Chicago, a fortunate few were able to stay with relatives living in the area as did Fullers Station’s Mrs. Charles Decker and her daughter Cora. The Misses Anna and Lulu Lockwood of Altamont planned to visit with their brother Dr. John F. Lockwood, “his home being a few miles from Chicago.”

The Enterprise editor John D. Ogsbury recommended the “commodious quarters” provided by Mr. and Mrs. Edward Hart, former Guilderland residents, and stayed with them himself when he and his wife spent 10 days at the fair in July. However, most of the visitors stayed in various hotels.

A great number of those Guilderland residents who had the stamina and the money to attend the fair did so. By May 19, The Enterprise editor commented that “a number of residents in the vicinity have registered for the World’s Fair trip.”

During the summer, he noted, “The matter of a visit to the World’s Fair is becoming an epidemic.” Throughout the summer, the local columns in The Enterprise mentioned names of those who had departed for the exposition.

In October, the editor noted, “It has been computed that 45 persons from this incorporated village attended the world’s fair during the past few months. With those who live in the immediate vicinity, we have done remarkably well to swell the crowds at the exposition.”

An informal survey of other Enterprise columns during the fair’s operation shows mentions of McKownville sending five plus family members, three from Meadowdale, 25 from Guilderland Center, eight from Fullers, five from Guilderland, and four from Dunnsville. Surely there were others whose names weren’t in the paper or one name was listed when that person was accompanied by other family members.

After these fairgoers paid their 50-cent admission, what was there to do and see? Huge buildings lined a lagoon where visitors could be enlightened about the latest technology, and for many it must have been their first encounter with electricity.

Fair visitors could view exhibits from places as diverse as Turkey, New South Wales, or Ceylon and could observe natives from many areas.

Probably most fairgoers would have agreed that the Midway Plaisance was the best part of the fair. That new invention, the Ferris wheel was the hit of the exposition, standing 264 feet high with 3- foot cars, each holding 60 people, powered by huge engines.

Another popular attraction was a captive balloon ride that took brave souls 1,500 feet above the fairgrounds. There were restaurants with foreign foods, Algerian and Egyptian belly dancers, and an ostrich farm — the list of attractions was endless.

John D. Ogsbury’s lengthy letter from Chicago describing the fair marveled at the Ferris wheel although he chose not to try the ride. He mentioned the various buildings holding exhibits and was fascinated with the New York Central Railroad exhibit of Engine 999 that had recently broken the all-time speed record parked next to the DeWitt Clinton, the original train that first ran in New York State.  

Many people remained at home, tied down with responsibilities, lacking the money, or were not well enough to travel that far and cover the extensive grounds of the fair.

They could view it all vicariously by attending events such as the “grand panoramic exhibition of the World’s Fair” at the Reformed Church when an entertainment under the auspices of Messrs. Felkins and Shafer of Albany would show a complete photographic panorama of “the marvelous buildings, exhibits, scenes and surroundings of the World’s Columbian Exhibition.”

Admission was 25 cents for adults and 15 cents for children under 12.

For those fortunate enough to have visited the exposition, it was the experience of a lifetime. Christian Hartman probably was typical of fairgoers, returning home “delighted” with his experiences, while Maggie Hurst said, “The fair is great and everyone ought to see it.” 

The celebration had come to an end, and Columbus Day became a fixture in American life until recent years when controversy has arisen about Columbus and his holiday with a movement among some to replace it with Indigenous Peoples Day.

For Walt Chura of Simple Gifts
 

In the summer of 1954, the great innovative psychotherapist Carl Rogers presented a paper at a mental-health conference in Toronto, Ontario called “Personality Changes in Psychotherapy.”

He wanted to share with the conferees the results of a four-year study he conducted that asked the question: What is therapy?

One would think that everybody at a mental-health conference would know what that was (especially Rogers) but the conferees wanted to hear what the cordial mystic guru — to some a miracle-worker — had to say about how better to help people heal. His words were always instructive.

Of course, Rogers’s research team was interested in what takes place during the therapeutic session, how the “talking cure” affects a person’s cognitive development: remembering, understanding, analyzing, and all the other dimensions of human consciousness.

They were trying to nail down the click that takes place in a person’s mind when a door opens and the aspirant moves from point a to point b, then from b to c and so on, and at each stage becomes a more mature (realized) adult; many dedicatees experience past, present, and future melding into one — further relieving anxiety. (No small feat even for a pro.)

People who experience success in therapy are happy to share stories of their new-found-freedom: They say they feel better; get along better with others — even somebody they meet on the street; they say they see things clearly — read situations better — and thus find themselves in fewer hissy-fit-hassle-ridden conflict situations, even when the other person is at fault. They say they feel closer to achieving their dreams: Nirvana might be just around the corner? That’s not an LOL.

In Toronto, Rogers referred to the patient who makes great strides in therapy — who is better able to relate to others as an adult — as a “well-adjusted person.” It’s not a phrase we hear in the United States anymore because the country no longer has shared, agreed-upon values to adjust to, there are no ideals that say how one American should relate to another for a “common good.”

Much has been written about how the United States did have a collective sense of herself after World War II, when some/most people thought everybody was in the same boat or, if there were different boats, the big boats weren’t sticking an oar into the little boats’ eyes.

That sense has dissipated, deteriorated to the point where the country is rudderless, afloat like an anchorless ship — a serious mental disability a lot of people still refuse to admit exists. They have distanced themselves so far from feelings associated with a harmonious community that nothing anybody else does matters to them; they’re nihilists. The country is flooded with nihilists.

Of course, as soon as anyone hears the words “well-adjusted,” they ask: Adjusted to what? Which is the right question, and an especially poignant one for America right now because there is no United-States-of-America; “America” has no home; is homeless — I just said an anchorless ship — we’ve lost the competency to relate to each other in a cordial neighborly way, which the framers of the Republic, with all their flaws, were hoping that was the least Americans could do.

And relating to others in a cordial neighborly way is in fact a competency — techniques and frame of mind — that people must learn, and practice, and get good at it, if they are to have a society where, for example, everybody has enjoyable work to do, where people feel part of a nurturing family, a culturally-enriching school district, and friendly local “fraternal” organizations like the Rotary Club and the Bicycle Days Committee.

The idealists say everybody should get two months of vacation each year, fully paid, all the sick leave they need, and a sabbatical every 10 years: a whole year to think and read and study and ponder and do the things their soul is longing for — paid in full — untaxed — no one having to worry about a guy at the mall whipping out an Uzi to mow the food court down.

(I’m thinking of putting out a pamphlet called “Ways to Have a Healing Vacation.”)

Thus, if a sincere person wishes to be a well-adjusted American, what America is he going to commit himself to? America is a mirage of shifting identities. It’s like someone looking in the mirrors of a barber shop to see what they really look like.

When a lieutenant in the Proud Boys hears “well-adjusted,” he thinks of the recruit who spews venom at the system, preys on human weakness, keeps ammo hidden in the car — long guns aside — and a bunker to hide in when the cops come; he does everything the Proud Boys Handbook requires, uses violence to settle scores, interjects suspicion in every group he comes upon. Looking at such a recruit, a Proud Boys lieutenant will say: I say, that boy is one “well-adjusted Proud Boy!”

Using “well-adjusted” alone, therefore, shows why Rogers said “well-adjusted person,” person being the operative word, as in: What’s the difference between a well-adjusted Proud Boy and a well-adjusted person? And a “person” is not an “individual,” a unit among “units” for utility’s sake — paying social services and the police to clean up deviant detritus.

After many years of observing and helping people grow into adulthood, Rogers put together a book called “On Becoming a Person” in which he touches upon every aspect of therapy right down to the words people use when they experience a seismic shift in their personality — as it’s happening — patients the true definers of what therapy is.

Also, while people refer to themselves as Socialist, Democrat, Republican, Libertarian, Anarchist — whatever — there is a group whose members call themselves Personalists, always making clear that Personalism is not a political stance but a way of life that has implications for politics. One personalist I know says he votes 365 days a year with his body — the kind of devotion some say a healthy Republic needs to stay alive.

When people entered Rogers’s study, they were handed a list of the qualities of a very mature person and asked to pick which ones most reflected them, and then to put in another pile the qualities that were not like them — it was a base from which the team would work.

Then each subject was asked whether the self they were right then, squared with the person they thought they ought to be, or wanted to be, or felt called to be, their “ideal self,” the self they had to bank their life on.

Looking at how people scored themselves on these dimensions, Rogers and his team saw right away that troubled people experience a wide gap between the self they see themselves as and the self they feel they ought to be, maybe the self they were born with. It’s a tricky subject to document because people don’t like talking about “self” stuff.

Which explains why America is a hodge-podge of once-lofty ideals riled up by grunts battering America in the face. Imagine: Some folks are still calling for civil war — ready to hack down a neighbor like they did by machete in Rwanda in 1994, a homeland where no one felt at home.

I love the song “America the Beautiful” but now I hear “America the Confused,” “America the Angry,” “American Despair” identities that swish back and forth like dirty tide water.

At this stage of my life, I find all this so sad. I have no god but, if I had one, she’d be the goddess of understanding and compassion, the genealogical mother of love.

Well, after two years of due diligence, I finally got COVID-19. If you’ve had it, believe me, I feel your pain. If you’ve managed to somehow avoid getting it, keep up the great work. Trust me, it truly sucks.

Here is what COVID-19 did to me, over the course of two very rough days:

— Intense headache requiring copious amounts of Tylenol;

— Legs that felt like they were made of lead;

— A shallowness in my chest when breathing; and

— Being freezing cold yet sweating profusely while trying to sleep.

Fortunately, after two days of this misery, I slowly got better. I think being in fairly good health overall was something I had going for me. I can easily see how, if someone is weak or frail, this kind of thing could be devastating for them.

If you ever needed a good reason to exercise, put COVID-19 defense right up there at the top of the list. I’m over age 50, which is the group who really had it rough with COVID-19. I think exercising six days a week helped me beat it.

If you want to be safe, and feel good in general, find some kind of exercise, anything that gets you moving, and then stick to it. You’ll never regret it, and it might just save your life.

So how did I finally get COVID-19 despite doing everything right — being triple vaccinated, not going anywhere, wearing a mask all the time — for over two years?

A couple of weeks ago, my wife had her 50th high school class reunion. She was on the planning committee, and this was a truly marvelous event that went on for five hours.

I lasted for two hours, but she stayed the whole time. This was on a Saturday. By the next Wednesday, my wife tested positive for COVID-19. That same night, I started to show symptoms. So there you go.

This reunion turned into a “super spreader” event. At last count, a dozen attendees have come down with COVID-19. What a bummer.

As I said, my wife was on the planning committee, and they really did a great job. They even took the time to remember classmates who are no longer with us. What a nice touch. It’s so sad that this insidious, invisible, horrible virus had to go and ruin it for so many of us.

And yet, getting COVID-19 myself isn’t the worst thing about the COVID-19 for me. The worst thing was, at the height of the pandemic, having to keep six feet away from my grandson. He was just a toddler then, and I played it off by making up games of tag and the like so we could just run around and around outside.

But he knew, young as he was back then, that something was wrong.

“Mom,” he’d say, “I want Grandma and Grandpa to come inside and play with me.”

That really sucked but, knock on wood, my daughter has kept her family COVID-19 free throughout all this. Good on her.

The Tuesday night after the Saturday-night reunion, my wife and I had dinner at a nice Italian restaurant with my brother, who was visiting all the way from Florida, and a dear old friend of mine. Somehow, my brother did not get COVID-19, but my friend did.

What makes it worse is she’s smack dab in the middle of a complete kitchen makeover. She now has to quarantine, so that project is on hold for at least 10 days. Can you imagine having to live with that upheaval for so long? I’m just sick that she apparently got COVID-19 from one of us. What a total drag.

It’s not all bad news, though. I’m lucky to have the kind of job that can be done mostly remotely, so I have not had to miss any time from work. I had been scheduled to get my second booster the very next week after the reunion, but now I’m going to wait three months.

Supposedly, if you survive COVID-19, your body makes its own antibodies so you are protected for a while. Let’s hope.

As I write this, I’m well past my 10-day quarantine, yet I’m still testing positive when I use a rapid test. According to my doctor, it’s possible to test positive for up to three months after you’ve had COVID-19.

According to rules from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, I’m now allowed to be out in public without a mask. Still, I’ll be masking until I get two negative tests in a row. That’s just the right thing to do.

Now let’s talk about vaccines. I consider them a miracle of modern science, and I can’t wait until I get my next booster.

Frankly, no pun intended, I have no ability to understand people who refuse to get vaccinated. I understand there is a tiny minority who have systemic health issues that may preclude them from getting any kind of vaccine, but the skeptics?

Come on. I wouldn’t wish what I had to go through for two miserable days on anybody; it was that bad.

The protection is there, just get it, for your family’s sake if not your own. Had I not been triple vaccinated, my outcome, bad as it was, could have been a lot worse.

It’s like that old joke that goes like this: A guy’s house starts to flood. Some folks come by in a big truck.

“Come with us!” they say.

“No thanks,” he answers. “The Lord will save me.”

Then the water gets higher. Some guys come by in a boat.

“Come on, we’ll save you!”

“No thanks, the Lord will save me.”

Finally the water is so high, the guy is on the peak of the roof. A helicopter lowers a rope.

“Grab onto the rope!”

“No thanks, the Lord will save me.”

Of course the guy drowns. When he gets to Heaven, he says to God, “Why didn’t you save me, Lord?”

God says “I sent a truck, a boat, and a helicopter; what more was I supposed to do?”

COVID-19 is no fun at all. Trust me on this. Do whatever you have to do to avoid getting it.