Archive » February 2023 » Columns

— Photo from the Guilderland Historical Society

A group of Helderberg Church women of varying ages met at a private home in Fullers probably to plan a church fundraiser, but also offer each other support if needed. Women’s health issues were rarely mentioned in public except in the Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound advertising. 

When in 1908 William Thomas Beebe passed away at the advanced age of 94, he had achieved twice the 47 years average age at death reached by the ordinary American at the turn of the 20th Century.

While few Guilderland residents lived to Beebe’s advanced years, an informal survey of the Enterprise’s local columns and obituaries appearing during the century’s first decade reveals that, while only a rare few ever reached 90, a very sizable number of townspeople survived well beyond 47 into their 60s, 70s and 80s.

To reach elderly years, each individual had to avoid or overcome many possibilities of serious or possibly fatal illness from infancy to old age. This was still a time when health care was entirely provided in the home where women were the primary caregivers.

Professional medical aid was available from Guilderland’s dedicated doctors traveling for house calls in buggies or sleighs: McKownville’s Dr. Helme, Guilderland’s Dr. DeGraffe, Guilderland Center’s Dr. Hurst, Altamont’s Dr. Jesse Crounse and Dr. Fred Crounse. In addition, Voorheesville’s Drs. Shaw and Joslin crossed town lines to treat some patients here as well.

Tending to births and babies, children, severe illnesses, accidents and deaths, they were limited by the preliminary medical knowledge achieved up to this time. Guilderland’s location made trips to either of Albany’s two hospitals practical to undergo the limited surgeries then already possible and quite a number of residents were reported to have undergone operations.

Then, as now, finances played a part. Even though country doctors had the reputation of being flexible about payments and were reputed to accept payment in farm products or services at times, a poor family would likely hold off calling the doctor until things were critical while hospital visits would have been very unlikely unless the patient could pay.

Holding out hope of relief or cures were the endless Enterprise ads for patent medicines that seemed to cure or address almost any health problem, various nostrums for sale at the town’s general stores or available by mail. Sick citizens of that era, often ardent prohibitionists, were unaware that these concoctions were often heavily laced with alcohol or narcotics.

Ads frequently carried testimonials of cures that with clever merchandising usually mentioned multiple bottles were needed to achieve that particular cure or at least relief. Consumers’ choices included Cramer’s Kidney and Liver Cure; Chamberlain’s Colic, Cholera and Diarrhea Remedy; Dr. Miles Heart Cure; Dr. Miles Nervine; and Dr. Kilmer’s Swamp Root for bladder problems — just a few samples of what were advertised.

An informal survey of Enterprise local columns from the first decade of the 20th Century gives much detail about the state of health in Guilderland. Some of the reporting seems an invasion of privacy, but these reports probably brought sympathy, support, and actual help for the families or individuals involved.

 

Childhood illness

Babies were born at home, mothers often attended by one of the local doctors. Stories have been passed down of premature babies put in slightly warmed ovens to survive if possible.

Living through infancy was a challenge for a child with a congenital birth defect or any digestive issues and most infant deaths were attributed to cholera infantum, a general term relating to this failure to absorb nutrition. Cholera infantum shows up on the Prospect Hill Cemetery record of infants’ burials during that period.

Poignant notices occasionally appeared such as this one in the Guilderland Center column referring to the couple whose infant daughter “died after gladdening the hearts of the young parents for two days” or another grieving couple who had “the sympathy of their friends at the loss of their infant daughter, aged seven months.”

Having passed through infancy, childhood was the individual’s next challenge when bouts of viral  childhood diseases would be their lot. Being that the town’s one-room schools used a pail and dipper and an outhouse to be shared by all, when the contagious childhood diseases of measles, mumps, and chicken pox showed up, they could easily spread and every now and then one or another of the town’s schools would be closed for a week due to illness.

More serious were the contagious bacterial childhood diseases of whooping cough and scarlet fever. During this decade, whooping cough appeared rarely in Guilderland, but scarlet fever showed up repeatedly year after year. Caused by streptococcus, these two diseases could be fatal and there were examples of deaths here in Guilderland.

One year, Parkers Corners District one-room school closed for a week due to scarlet fever. One family there first lost their 16-year-old daughter to the disease, but within that month their 4-year-old daughter who had initially come down with scarlet fever, developed the complication of pneumonia and died as well.

Another year, a young man from the Fullers area died of “malignant scarlet fever,” while near Altamont a 47-year-old man died described as “a cripple nearly all of his life from the effects of scarlet fever.” A serious complication that could result from scarlet fever was rheumatic fever affecting the heart.

Diphtheria was another bacterial disease chiefly of childhood, but adults could catch it as well. It was frequently fatal. Although not widely reported in Guilderland during these years, there were two deaths from diphtheria listed among Guilderland children buried in Prospect Hill Cemetery at this time.

Children were forced to confront death at an early age at a time when it was not unusual for a classmate or a sibling to die. On the day the funeral of one 9-year-old girl, “loved by all who knew her,” was held from her father’s home near Fullers, the one-room school she attended was closed and the teacher and students attended the funeral.

 

Adult sicknesses

Assuming a man or woman had survived infancy and childhood, there were many possibilities for sickness or ill health during the adult years. Chronic diseases such as high blood pressure or Type 2 diabetes were left untreated with no medications available.

Eventually a sufferer of hypertension would likely have died of apoplexy or stroke, usually people of more advanced years, with many recorded by those diligent community reporters. Diabetes was not mentioned possibly because childhood diabetes was probably fatal and adult diabetes was rare at that time due to their way of living.

People suffered from kidney disease with Bright’s disease and nephritis mentioned. Consumption or tuberculosis did not seem to be a problem here and, although one man died of it, he seemed to have moved to Guilderland more recently.

Quinsy, a throat infection, appeared every now and then although tonsillitis was more common. Also frequently noted was appendicitis and several had surgeries at one of Albany’s two hospitals.

Typhoid fever, a serious bacterial illness acquired from drinking contaminated water, could be fatal and was always serious. Mentioned regularly, most survived, but a 24-year-old man “of good habits and disposition” died after a bout with “malignant typhoid” and a 16-year-old Guilderland girl did not survive after she became ill.

One seasonal malady was la grippe or the grip known now as influenza or flu. It appeared each year, affecting some who recovered quickly and returned to work, while others were housebound for varying periods of time. For those already suffering health problems, fatal pneumonia could develop.

Cancer, always a dreaded diagnosis, was not as openly discussed in that era as in our own. Nevertheless, it was many times mentioned as a cause of death.

Some of the surgeries at the Albany hospitals were cancer-related such as the Guilderland Center man who “had an operation for removal of a cancer from his lower lip. Drs. Frank Hurst and Frederick Crounse were the physicians in attendance.”

In spite of the operation, although being called a success, he was back a month later for “the removal of another cancer of the same nature.” Sadly, a year later the disease killed him and sympathy was asked for his grieving family.

A Settles Hill woman died from “the dread disease cancer,” while another woman had “looked forward to a time when the ravages of cancer would end all her suffering and she could sleep in death.”

Others who were noted as dying after a lingering illness or suffering for a length of time may very well have also died due to cancer. However, most of these cancer sufferers seemed to have reached their 50s and 60s.

In 1900, there was a smallpox scare when the writer of the Village & Town column wrote that several cases of smallpox had recently been reported in Schenectady where there had been precautions and quarantines in place with vaccinations being urged.

“It would be well for the inhabitants of this and nearby villages to consider the matter of vaccination before the disease makes its appearance,” the village corresponded advised

The next week, the Guilderland Center correspondent commented, “No small pox developments as yet, still many are calling on the doctor for vaccination ….” Smallpox never materialized in Guilderland to the relief of the town’s doctors.

Women’s health issues were still unmentionable in those closing years of Victorian era prudery. However, the frequent ads for Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound actually were often quite frank and women with “female problems” were urged to write to Mrs. Pinkham for advice after being assured all letters were “received and opened, read and answered by women only.”

And of course, women were urged to buy bottles of Vegetable Compound in the meantime.

 

Accidents

Accidents, frequently serious enough to require a doctor’s attention, often related to wagons or farm chores. Try doing your farm chores with your “right hand injured quite severely by a hay hook striking into it” or after you cut your “arm quite seriously while splitting wood.”

One laboring man in Altamont “had the misfortune to break his wrist [when] thrown off the coal wagon. The injury will lay him up for some time. Depending on his day’s work, the misfortune is the more severe.”

A week later, it was noted he had no use of his arm.

In addition to being unable to do necessary work, cuts or scratches received on the job or farm could lead to blood poisoning or sepsis. Dr. Fred Crounse was caring for a man’s case of blood poisoning resulting from “a sore on his little finger,” one of many examples reported during these years.

And accidents could be fatal. One unfortunate man lost his life crossing the West Shore Railroad tracks in Guilderland Center, and a Meadowdale woman was hit by a D&H train while walking along the tracks.

With the odds against them, how did so many of Guilderland’s population reach ages well beyond the average of the nation’s general population? Low population density, fresh air, pure water, local sources of nutritious food, and a lifetime of hard work all played a part.

Having good genes was always an advantage as well. In addition, the ministrations of dedicated and obviously skillful country doctors contributed. And for those who could afford it, the possibility of treatment at either Albany Hospital or Albany Homeopathic Hospital (now Memorial Hospital) extended some lives as well.

Modern Americans take for granted antibiotics, medications to treat a myriad of chronic diseases and conditions, scans, advanced surgeries and vaccines. Medical research and development has taken us a long way in the past century and a quarter, allowing most Americans today to live to 79.1 years or more on average.

Tuesday, Valentine’s Day 2023, the Old Men of the Mountain met at the Chuck Wagon Diner in Princetown. At this breakfast, it is not hard to imagine what the initial comments of the day were.  It was, of course, the weather and how unusual it has been so far this year.

The OMOTM reported some of the events that should not be happening this early.

One OF reported that last week the red-winged blackbirds showed up; another reported the sap is running; yet another said his early flowers are showing their green beginnings above ground; and one OF added that his apple trees are budding, and he thinks he is seeing buds on his lilacs.

Wow! It is only the middle of February.

This scribe said we are going to pay for all this, say in April.

One OF added that many are saying it is global warming; however, the OF said, while this may be true, he does not think so, because this is not the warmest winter ever. We have had warmer. We have also had summers with no summer.

This OF thinks it is all just part of a pattern and that next year it may be one of the coldest and we will be wishing for this year all over again. Well, this is a good case of only time will tell.

 

Thoughts on balloons up in the air

The balloons flying over parts of the northern hemisphere and the Air Force using them for target practice was a concern to the OMOTM, especially the big one with the apparent solar bar on the bottom to keep whatever instruments that were housed inside the balloon charged up.

The other smaller, metallic-appearing balloons could be nothing more than college-kid experiments. One OF said that the smaller ones interfering with standard air traffic came down in areas where people were not able to just drive over and pick up the pieces.

Another OF said that, with all these objects, it is going to be tough to get at the debris to check and see what this is all about.

One OMOTM said that he thinks some private individual should find the large balloon pieces in the ocean first and then turn them over to the authorities.

This OF thinks that, if the Navy or Coast Guard latches onto it, we will have another Roswell incident and there will be one great big government cover-up and the OFs will never know what it is, or was, and it will probably be marked classified and wind up in some president’s garage.

One OF suggested these balloons may be from outer space, to which another OF said he doesn’t think the extraterrestrials would be messing around with balloons. This OF thinks that extraterrestrials consider us and our planet still in the Neanderthal age and, if they were responsible for the balloons, they would have done it just for kicks and giggles to watch what kind of effort we would put forth just to pop them.

Hey! Another time will tell.

 

“Don’t get old”

One OF reported, if some of his family did not have bad luck, they would have no luck at all.

The OF related a story that one of his siblings is ill and requires hospital care and so was just taken there. In the meantime, her daughter was on vacation in Aruba, and had just returned home from her trip.

She arrived at the house at 2 a.m. which is in the morning, and darn early for most of us. The OF said she put her suitcase down and then proceeded to trip over it and break her leg, so she too was taken to the hospital, and the OF himself had a doctor’s appointment at 11:30 Tuesday morning.

So, for this OF, the day begins with having breakfast with OFs, then charging off to the doctor, then proceeding to the hospital to check and see how the two girls are doing. The OF suggested that we should all stay young.

“Don’t get old,” the OF said. “It ain’t worth it.”

 

One big scam

As most know, the Super Bowl was this weekend. Some OFs watched it, some didn’t, and some wanted to but couldn’t because it was blocked out. These OFs were furious.

Through no fault of their own (and the OFs say they pay good money for the service), they could not get the game. The OFs felt this was rotten. One OF said we should go back to satellite antennas in the backyard.

Another OF claimed this whole TV thing is one big scam. We pay a ton a month to get TV and there is nothing tangible for it. If we pay for an orange, we get an orange. For cable or dish, we pay and pay — and get nothing but rotten news, and the same shows over and over. These OFs were just ranting but in a way they are right.

Those Old Men of the Mountain who were greeted by the sunrise as the daylight hours grow longer shook the fog from their brains so they could make it to the Chuck Wagon Diner, and they were: John Dab, Herb Bahrmann, Lou Schenck, Jack Norray, Dave Hodgetts, Bob Donnelly, Elwood Vanderbilt, Rev. Jay Francis, Miner Stevens, Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Doug Marshall, Roland Tozer, John Muller, Jake Lederman, Russ Pokorny, Jake Herzog, Mark Traver, Joe Rack, Robie Osterman, George Washburn, Bill Lichliter, Paul Guiton, Dick Dexter, and me.

 

Under the light of the moon on Tuesday, Feb. 7, some of the Old Men of the Mountain traveled to the Your Way Café in Schoharie. The moon was something to see.

Photo by Michael Nardacci

The farmhouse from which D.C. and Ada Robinson ran their commercial operation of Knox Cave stood on the Knox Cave Road until it was destroyed by fire around 1968

Most New York State caves are closed to visitors from Oct. 1 to May 1. For information about Knox Cave and other area caves, visit www.northeatserncaveconservancy.org.

Filled with darkness and featuring passages that twist and meander, caves by their very nature evoke legends and lore. Under one of the fields outside of the village of Knox, an eponymous cave has incited geologic interest and lore, and drawn explorers and scientists — and, from time to time, tourists — since the 19th Century.

Old histories of the Helderbergs make mention of its steep-sided entrance sinkhole though they do not record any exploration. Formed from the Devonian-age Manlius and Coeymans limestones, the cave consists of a series of parallel passageways on multiple levels formed along great vertical fractures in the rock called joints.

Knox is not among the longest or more challenging of the caves of the Northeast — it has around 4,000 feet of passage and only two sections require technical climbing (involving ropework). However, its notorious Gunbarrel passage (of which more later) and an arduous climb and crawlway that lead to the remote and once-beautiful Alabaster Room as well as the cave’s many legends have attracted sport cavers and scientists for many years.

Newspaper accounts dating to the 1920s report sometimes fanciful— or wishful — excursions into the cave, believed then to be miles in length. There were also apparently limited commercial excursions offered by members of the Truax family that owned the cave prior to the 1930s.

One can imagine hardy explorers venturing into the cave in the long-ago style made famous by Lester Howe in his own cave in the 1800s, scrambling over fallen boulders and through chilly pools, clad in canvas cloaks and bearing kerosene lanterns.

At some point in the 1930s, the Truax property was purchased by a retired couple from Long Island, Delevan C. Robinson — known as “D.C.” — and his wife, Ada. D.C. held a Ph.D. from Carnegie Tech and his wife had a master’s degree and had taught English on the secondary level.

He built an elaborate series of stairs that descended to the floor of the cave (over 110 feet underground) and he installed electric lighting in a section that was to be a tourist route. Wishing to keep his cave in a natural state, D.C. made walkways out of flat slabs of Manlius limestone from which lower levels of the cave were formed. As an additional draw, he built a large roller-skating rink that at times also functioned as a dance hall.

The problem that D.C. and others who attempted to commercialize Knox Cave encountered was the fact that, although the section of the cave easily accessible by the staircase featured several large, impressive chambers, tours lasted only about 45 minutes. This was far shorter than tours at nearby Howe Caverns, and those areas lacked an atmospheric gurgling stream such as Howe’s “River Styx” or any flowing water for that matter — a most curious fact for a New York State cave.

Some of the most interesting sections lay beyond the famous (infamous?) Gunbarrel. This is a 47-foot-long tubular passage, and its average diameter is only about 14 inches (that is not a typo!) through which paying customers could hardly be expected to squeeze.

In any event, in the early 1950s, D.C. also set out on an ambitious program of exploration in an attempt to find new and more accessible passages and to prove that Knox — known then to be only about 3,000 feet in length — was the longest cave in New York State.

 

Negley’s exploration

To that end, he enlisted a shadowy figure known as “Buck” Negley who was apparently a postal worker, spending his free time exploring Knox. Very short in stature and wiry, Negley could slither through cracks and crevices that many people would regard as impossible and he evidently did much of his exploring alone. (Serious violation of caving rules!)

Prior to his explorations, the cave was known to continue beyond the intimidating Gunbarrel to a roomy chamber that terminated in a pile of loose rocky debris. Pushing aside boulders and slabs (and probably placing his life in jeopardy), Negley was able to squeeze through and discovered a maze of lofty canyons and domes and a yawning pit.

He also navigated his way through a tight, tortuous passage known as the Crystal Crawlway for its pockets of calcite crystals and was able to climb down into what became known as the Alabaster Room.  Once admired for its displays of milky, translucent stalactites and flowstone, the chamber today is a sad sight.

Incredible as it might seem, some of the visitors to this remote, hard-to-reach grotto have damaged or carried away many of its delicate formations. Oddly — though the room appeared to be the northern termination of Knox Cave, Negley claimed to have found a passage continuing beyond it, for which explorers searched for years.

But in the 1990s determined cavers dug out a clay-clogged passage in a secluded spot below the Alabaster Room and broke into a low, thousand-foot-long canyon carrying a stream, far below Knox’s once-commercial passages, solving a mystery of Knox Cave’s hydrology and perhaps vindicating the legendary Negley.

But another of Negley’s claims has yet to be confirmed. He insisted that he had wormed his way through a tight crawl east of the old commercial sections and found a room he described as “larger than a football field.”

Many scoffed at his claim — but the fact remains that the thick Coeymans and Manlius limestone strata that cover many square miles of woods and fields around the village of Knox are filled with sinkholes and fractures carrying surface water to unknown destinations and in which large caverns could develop.

It is not inconceivable that the black vastness of Negley’s Lost Room may yet await discovery for some intrepid — or very thin — explorers.

 

Frustration Crawl and New Skull Cave

Another more tangible mystery involves a tight tunnel known as “Frustration Crawl,” which has tantalized explorers for decades. Cavers can enter it on hands and knees but it soon turns into a flat-out belly crawl, its walls worn smooth from the abrasion of thousands of passing bodies.

But, after a hundred feet or so, human intrusion is halted by two thick curtains of flowstone that have descended from either side. Looking through a narrow space between them, cavers can see that the tunnel continues but they cannot.

However, the crawl is headed straight for another large cave system less than 1,000 feet away known as “New Skull Cave,” a tortuous, wet, muddy cave system known to have over five miles of challenging passageway. Off limits to sport cavers for years, New Skull has not been fully explored and may well continue for additional miles.

Were “Frustration Crawl” to connect Knox Cave to New Skull there would be the potential for one of the largest cave systems in the Northeast.

And why the designation as “New Skull?” A few hundred yards away from both the Knox and New Skull entrances there once was a wide, vertical sinkhole around which legends abound. A local tale says that in the mid-1800s, a farmer climbed down some 60 feet into it and entered a dripping, gloomy chamber, the floor of which was littered with human skeletons and the bones of large animals.

Some versions of the tale say the animals were long-horned steers, others that they were the remains of a giant Ice-Age ground sloth. In any case, horrified by his discovery, the farmer dumped huge boulders into the sinkhole and then filled it to the surface with dirt.

The upper 10 feet or so of the sinkhole was still visible in the 1960s and geologic features in its walls called fluting indicated that in the distant past it had been the insurgence point for large volumes of water.  Today, the sinkhole reputed to lead to what has come to known as “Old Skull Cave” is no longer visible, having been completely filled with soil making it level with the surrounding fields, but its memory adds to the legends of the area, a lure as tantalizing as “Frustration Crawl.”

 

Access to Lemuria?

Doubtless the weirdest legend associated with Knox Cave derives from the book “I Remember Lemuria” by Richard Shaver published in 1948. In it, Shaver claims that far beneath the earth and accessible through certain caves is a whole separate and highly advanced civilization called Lemuria.

Its super-intelligent inhabitants do not want intruders from the surface and so they have bred a race of huge ape-like creatures armed with clubs to guard the access points and bash in the heads of any surface people who happen to wander in.

Shaver asserted that one of the caves offering access to Lemuria was Knox. Surely no comment on this story is needed; however — when I have taken groups of schoolkids into the cave in one of my Heldeberg Workshop summer caving classes, I have found that recounting the legend to them is a very effective way to keep any of them from wandering off.

The last attempt to commercialize Knox Cave occurred in the late 1950s, and tourist brochures as well as other ephemera of the cave from that period survive. When I was a boy, my parents took me on what turned out to be among the last commercial tours of Knox.

Even as a youth, I knew that the descent from the surface on that stairway was going to be intimidating to many tourists, especially the elderly — a far cry from the elevator that carried visitors effortlessly into Howe Caverns.

Brief though the tour was, the guide’s recounting of the cave’s history and lore was captivating. He spoke of the high narrow fracture called “Skeleton Passage” in which six human skeletons had allegedly been found along with a number of ancient torches — their whereabouts even then unknown.

He also fascinated visitors with tales of a mysterious tablet in an off-limits section of the cave which had inscribed upon it the hieroglyphic writings of the Nephites, who Mormons believe inhabited North America in the years before the Christian Era. (These subsequently proved to be natural solution channels carved into the Manlius limestone by dribbling acidic water.)

And the guide hinted at new discoveries which might stretch the cave’s length to 13 miles — an elusive goal, to say the least.

By the time the cave closed for commercial tours for the final time, D.C. Robinson had passed away, but the cave remained open for sport cavers and scientists. His wife, Ada, was known to all as a delightful woman who enthusiastically welcomed visitors, telling them perhaps wistfully that the cave had been “entered but not explored” for 13 miles.

Readers acquainted with “Aunt Arie” from the Foxfire books would have recognized her double in Mrs. Robinson with her print dress and apron, hair in a bun, and effervescent personality. Upon her death in 1964, the cave went through a period of confused ownership during which people came and went freely onto the property and into the cave.

Fires determined to have been arson destroyed first the abandoned skating rink and then the Robinson house.

Then, in 1976, a group of college students attempted to enter the cave in winter, crawling through an opening in a mass of ice that blocked the entrance. A huge chunk broke off, killing one student and seriously injuring another.

Another period of confusion followed but eventually Knox Cave was acquired by the Northeastern Cave Conservancy that now controls access. The nearby Knox Museum features a Knox Cave room, filled with photographs, memorabilia, and newspaper articles from the cave’s glory days, as well as plaster impressions of the “Nephite hieroglyphs.”

And so, from May 1 to Oc. 1, both sport cavers and scientists from all over the world hike the surrounding fields past the disintegrating ruins of the Knox Skating Rink and descend the gaping sinkhole to explore and study the cave’s geologic mysteries.

The vast entrance rooms still astound, the claustrophobic Gunbarrel still calls explorers to the chambers beyond, and reaching the long-unknown river passage still challenges cavers’ strength and endurance. And perhaps from some dark recess, the ghost of the mysterious Buck Negley urges the intrepid to push beyond one last tight squeeze that opens into an echoing chamber the size of a football field.

We almost had a snow day. The Old Men of the Mountain make it to the appointed restaurant every Tuesday — like the postman, through heat, snow, rain, wind, even brimstone — the OFs are ready to eat.

This past Tuesday, Jan. 24, the Middleburgh Diner in Middleburgh was the appointed diner. Like most of the places the OFs frequent, if you leave hungry, it is your own fault; this is the case with the Middleburgh Diner where the price of eggs does not bother them too much. The waitress said they have their own chickens. There ya go.

One of the newer OFs used a GPS to get to the Middleburgh Diner and he was relating the roads traveled to arrive at the diner. This started a few of the OFs talking all at once; basically it was “Say what?”

Then they began again talking all at once about the should-a’s. Apparently, the GPS sent the OF all around Cock Robin’s barn to come off the Hill to get to Middleburgh.

This is another case of the older OFs knowing these back country roads through the hills and, if some newer OF heads out with the older OFs’ directions, it would be a month of Tuesdays before the OF would be found and he would still be wandering around up in “them thar hills.”

 

Football

It is the end of the football season coming up and the OFs discussed the sport. Most of the OFs knew something about the game, but were not aficionados.

The group almost began to become political when it was mentioned they could not quite understand calling the Cleveland Indians, Guardians, and other name changes that had no particular ring to them.

The OFs discussed a little bit about the new movie coming out titled “80 for Brady.” Basically it was because of the age 80; now it is getting into OMOTM territory age-wise.

One OF brought up how it is strange that, in baseball and basketball, even hockey, rooting for the local team is the norm. However, in football, rooting for Washington, and living in Albany is normal, or living in Albany and rooting for Boston, conversely living in Pittsburgh and rooting for the Giants. Go figure.

 

Travel trauma

Stories came up about things that went wrong on trips while cruising on the water or flying in airplanes. After listening to some of these, it is a wonder if any of the OFs would get in a plane or on a ship but this scribe doubts if it deterred any of this group from leaving the breakfast and either getting on a ship, or boarding a plane.

The OFs told stories about being in small planes, not homeowner type Pipers, or Cessna 172s, but small commercial prop jobs. The OFs told about being bounced about so that if anyone had a sensitive stomach they would definitely need a barf bag.

One OF told of taking a cruise on a ship and running into a storm that contained a huge water spout. There, the OF said, the ship ran out of barf bags for passengers and some of the crew and performers really became ill from this huge ship being bounced around like a cork. The trip was short, and the OFs got their money back.

No matter how the OFs travel, there is no telling what is going to happen, or what the OFs will run into. In some way, that is the fun of it.

 

Like Jonah

One OF brought up the event of the two lady kayakers who were swallowed by a whale and were spit back out unharmed. The OF said it was a Right whale, and another OF corrected him by saying it couldn’t be a Right whale because Right whales have teeth.

The second OF was correct. The Right whale does have teeth, but apparently baleen also because this whale is listed as both mysticetes, meaning baleen, and odontocetes meaning teeth. The others are either-or but not both.

However, the two ladies were washed into the mouth of a Humpback whale (which is a mysticetes) and couldn’t swallow them anyway.  The other kayakers watching all this must have freaked out.

It still is surprising the knowledge of the OMOTM. The information that comes from the OMOTM on nature, boating, flying, hunting, fishing, even the academics of chemistry, prose and poetry, American history, and much more is amazing.

When talking about whales, one OF who had read “Moby Dick” asked if anyone else had read the book, and was surprised by the response of the OFs who had indeed read this book. Herman Melville wrote his novel close by at his farm “Arrowhead” near Pittsfield in the Berkshires of Massachusetts. So that makes Herman a local boy almost.

Still another OF tells a tale of maneuvering a small 20-foot boat in high seas, while yet another OF tells of the excitement and concern of flying a plane and getting trapped in clouds he could not fly out of. It is a wonder that most of the OFs at this restaurant at least make it to be OFs.

Those Old Men of the Mountain who made it to the Middleburgh Diner in Middleburgh, and we don’t know how, were: Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Roland Tozer, Doug Marshall, Russ Pokorny, Bill Lichliter, Herb Bahrmann, Dick Dexter, Jack Norray, Lou Schenck, and me.

The science-fiction writer Robert Heinlein suggested that one sure way to know a society was in decline or even near collapse, was to observe the lack of social civility in everyday life. The ruder the average person was to others, the sicker the society was.

It’s an interesting idea and, having not yet seen an actual society destroy itself, I don’t know if he was right. But then again, the rise of the “Karen” phenomenon, which shows an endless string of videos of angry, rude, entitled people lashing out at any and all in their midst, does give one pause.

Here in Altamont, I rarely see examples of serious public rudeness. At the post office, I hold the door for others just as often as folks hold the door for me. We thank one another and smile. It’s all good. And the folks behind the counter are even friendlier and more helpful than almost any other government employees I’ve ever seen. In fact, that’s been true for the roughly 30 years I’ve been a customer there.

Walking along the streets, most people smile, wave,m or say hi. On my bike, I see most drivers are courteous and give me plenty of room except for the occasional driver of a huge pickup truck or professional drivers of large vehicles.

In most businesses, folks wait their turn, chat, and interact pleasantly with the folks working in the store. Considering the fact that we live in New York State, a place most non-locals tend to characterize as a pretty rude place, I think we’re doing pretty well locally. Or maybe they’re just referring to folks down in New York City, but even there, I’ve had few problems and met many friendly folks over many visits since the 1980s.

If there is a rash of uncivil behavior across our country, then I place the blame squarely on the broadcast septic tank that is Fox News, OAN, Truth Social, and the rest of the right-wing media. We’re talking about a propaganda machine that broadcasts hate, fear, bigotry, misogyny, and victim blaming 24/7/365. If you immerse yourself in said septic tank, you will come away angry, entitled, and ready for a fight at a moment’s notice. And that’s where I think the problem comes from.

I believe that most people in a normal state of mind are basically decent and act as such. They see others as equals and attempt to be decent as long as nobody attacks them for no apparent reason.

But the septic-tank folks are in a non-normal state of mind. They’re revved up and they just know, deep in their souls, that the reason for their anger and unhappiness is other people. And attacking those terrible people is their Fox-given right and responsibility to make the world a better and safer place for themselves and their families.

While I’m not a sociologist or a devotee of abnormal psychology, I think that this sort of weaponized rudeness is actually set free on purpose by the billionaire class that controls the right-wing media. By dividing us, we end up spending all our time fighting one another while they playfully manipulate the masses and steal us blind in plain sight.

Are you aware of the trillion-dollar gains made by the rich during the past several years? And of course, social media plays a big part in this campaign of division. And sadly, that happens even here in Altamont.

Perhaps the one place where rudeness does intrude on our peaceful village is on the Altamont Community Facebook page. It’s usually pretty civil but, every so often, one issue or another causes people to devolve to name-calling and accusations to the point that the page’s administrators have to step in.

The latest silly thing to upset the apple cart is the raging controversy over folks who like to honk their horns and say hi to Robbie, a resident at the group home at the intersection of Lincoln Avenue and Western.

The basic issue is whether or not people honking their horns are being rude to Robbie’s neighbors who might find the random honking of car horns at all hours to be less than peaceful. Now think about this, folks. How often do you hear a car horn in the village? Almost never.

Many of us greatly value the quiet atmosphere of our village and it’s part of the reason we have chosen to live here. So, to suddenly have a cacophony of car horns going on a daily basis is basically antithetical to the nature of Altamont.

Nobody is questioning the basic good nature of Robbie or his desire to greet his neighbors. It obviously makes him very happy.

But simply waving, flashing your lights, or saying hello makes Robbie just as happy. It’s perfectly fine to acknowledge him and it obviously makes many people feel quite warm and fuzzy but, as in all things, there are now unintended consequences.

When neighbors spoke up civilly and simply indicated the noise was a problem (random cannon fire ring any bells?) they were met with anger and suggestions that they move away. Talk about a rude response.

So yes, rudeness is an issue. But it seems to me that, if we were to turn off the septic tank, log out of Facebook, and just go about the business of living in harmony with one another, we’d all be a lot happier.

Remember how they used to tell us in school “United we stand, and divided we fall”? Well, let’s all unite in civil behavior and give the billionaire class, the septic tank fishies (Hannity, Carlson and the rest) a bad day and live our lives more happily.

After all, what sort of a world do we want to hand to our children? Or Robbie?
 

Editor’s note: Michael Seinberg says his daily philosophy is to try and leave the planet a little better than he found it — and that means being pleasant to others.