Archive » May 2023 » Columns

by Dennis Sullivan

Spread out across the top of an old glassed-in bookcase in our living room is a creche — a nativity scene — that depicts the birth of Jesus: Mary, Joseph, Wise Men, shepherd, animals, all those chosen to witness what Christian theology came to call the Incarnation, are there.

We keep our set up all year round; the silence is arresting.  

Creche comes from the Old French crèche meaning feeding trough or manger, the basis of the much-loved Christmas carol, “Away in a Manger.”

(And, editorially speaking, with respect to Christmas carols, Nicholas Parker, at the New York Public Library, said, “Christmas songs in the pop or jazz music canon, such as “Let It Snow,” “Last Christmas,” “Jingle Bell Rock,” “White Christmas,” etc., don’t count as Christmas carols! A carol has to be traditional or biblical in nature.” QED.)

As a kid, I was taken with the word manger — I have no idea why — the Greek is φάτνη — the Christmas committee in some churches pack their manger with straw to make things look real.

The Methodist Church in our community used to have a “living creche” they set up along the main road; in the cold of December, parishioners gathered round the child to relive the first Christmas. A teacher from the high school brought a lamb for nuance.

I still admire those who gave up their evenings that way but I wonder if any passersby got something from it: Did it affect their view of Christmas, or Jesus, or what it means to be part of a Christ-like community?

Since nobody at Jesus’s birth wrote about what they saw, their story died with them — the gospel writers never met them and no oral tradition passed it on.

Thus, it was up to painters, poets, writers, and makers of ceramic statues to say how people looked, how many there were, where they stood in relation to the child, and the expression on each face as if in a photograph.

In terms of accuracy: The gospel writers provided the outline, the artists ran with the ball.

The characters in our creche are sizeable: The wise men measure 10 inches tall and have full bodies; the same for Joseph. There is no stable or covering so our scene is al aire libre.

Center stage is the child Jesus stretched out in a manger, looking upward. The gospel writer Luke says — the only evangelist other than Matthew to write about the event — “And she [Mary] brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger.”

They said it took place in a stable — later they said a cave — because the family had no money, but the truth is the little town of Bethlehem was flooded with out-of-towners reporting for a census — every room everywhere was full. So the family could have had money.

Older people remember, “there was no room for them in the inn” but the New International translation says, “because there was no guest room available for them.”

And swaddling clothes? Old creche scenes show the boy wrapped round and round in a bundle of wide ribbon; biblical scholars went back to the Greek and came up with “cloths.”

Thus Luke 2:7 now reads, “She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.” “Cloths” and “guest room” are new; “manger” remains.

(Paradoxically) the scholars were hoping the text could provide context.

In our creche, Mary is kneeling next to the child — the colors of her robes are a Rorschach test.

For a long time, I thought Joseph got the short end of the stick — though I think he saw deeper into who the child was than the mother: though they both knew they had a gifted and talented kid on their hands, with intimations of divinity.

I’m not saying Mary was on the outs, just that Joseph and the boy spent time together in the wood shop and, as woodworking artists know, the silence of wood runs deep.

Some scripturalists treat Joseph like he was a piece of wood, instead of a man trying to solve a problem. That is, Matthew says, “Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be pregnant through the Holy Spirit.”

As in: Mary says to her boyfriend, “Joe, I’d like to get married but there’s something you ought to know first.”

And Joseph, because he was, as the Bible says, “faithful to the law, and did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly.”

What! It’s not even Christmas Eve and Jesus’s parents are getting divorced!

I have inches-thick commentaries explaining what the gospel writers meant by virgin birth — virgin as in sex with a spirit doesn’t count.

A modern-day version would have Joseph staring down every guy who came near the house and checking Mary’s cellphone when she went into the shower.


Our set has one shepherd, who’s as tall and wide as the wise men. Draped over his left arm is a lamb in easy repose.

Animal-wise, our set includes a camel, a donkey, and the lamb: the lamb a projection of the lamb of God Christians sing about in their liturgy: “lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world,” then they say “have mercy on us,” which means they believe the lamb is a god.

At night, a stressed-out Joseph dreams of an angel who tells him not to worry but “to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit”

Again, as if a Holy Spirit “intervening” your wife should get a religious discount.

The angel tells Joseph that Mary “will give birth to a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.”

There’s a doctoral dissertation in the creche thing: an analysis of the facial expressions of each of the characters in a Christmas creche. The research design could include examining the top 1,000 creches ever made — however determined, however randomly selected — to see how many witnesses the purveyors project were there, what their faces looked like — how elicitive of truth — was the family poor?

I wish all the souls in our creche could speak so I might interview them like a Rolling Stone reporter at the first Woodstock, dated 0 B.C./0 A.D.

Luke says, “There were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night.”

Which we expect of shepherds, but then it gets weird: “An angel of the Lord [appears] to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.”

They must have thought it was an invasion from Mars.

The angel tells them not to worry but to go to Bethlehem and find a new-born “wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger,” then the light show begins because it says: “a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest heaven and on earth peace to every living soul.’”

The shepherds must have thought they were seeing The Mormon Tabernacle Choir dosed on acid.

And yet they “go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened,” and find, “Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger.”

Then they lose it altogether, the gospel says, “When they [the shepherds] had seen him . . . [the child Jesus] they [went out] and spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them.”

Spread the word? What word! Everybody amazed? At what! What did the shepherds say? And who was taking care of their sheep!

(The shepherds were the first apostles.)   

This is the best Christmas I ever had. How about you? Does your creche have a manger?

Post date: 
May 22, 2023

Print this page

by John R. Williams

It is the Vth month already and we are into it by IX days and, on this Tuesday of V IX MMXXIII, the Old Men of the Mountain tucked another beautiful morning under their belts and gathered at Mrs. K’s Restaurant in Middleburgh in full force to have breakfast.

At the last count, unless this scribe missed a head or two, there were XXXIV OMOTM seated at the tables. As mentioned before, this count is very important to supply alibis for those in attendance and this scribe hopes he spotted all who came.

The past couple of weeks, the OFs have been offered a chance to take a survey on “cognizance.” So far, a couple of the OFs said the survey sounds like fun and they are interested in taking part in it, even though this is not every OF’s cup of tea.

One OF said he is leery about taking this test because after taking it the one administering the test may have him committed.

Another OF said, “You? With this group, it could or should be all of us.”

 

The best way

The conversation turned to how anyone does things, anything from brushing their teeth to mowing the lawn, from getting dressed to fixing a leaky sink, etc. The OFs discussed the “easy way, versus the hard way.”

During this conversation, it was concluded that the easy way to some is the hard way to others and, as usual, the ending was that, that sentence could be reversed.

One OF maintained that, when putting on your pants, it should be done sitting down because if you do it standing up there is a chance the person putting on his pants could fall over. The OF also thought it was much easier sitting down than standing up.

How to mow the lawn was another topic and it was hard to discern if the subject was the easy way or the hard way, as opposed to what some considered the right way or the wrong way.

Some thought going up one way and back the other way, others thought starting in the middle and going around and around was the best way and the quickest, while another said starting at the edge and working to the center going in one direction was the fastest and the best.

One OF really had the easiest: All he did was stand and look out the window while he had a cup of coffee and watched whoever he hired to do it, do it.

 

Tons of tools

This segued into a conversation on how many engines the average OMOTM had. The OFs began mentioning what tools they owned just to maintain their property, then those who had hobbies like boats, motorcycles, radio-controlled planes, and drones; all those toys that keep the OFs happy and busy.

Engines mount up, weed-whackers, lawn mowers, chainsaws, power-washers, they too, add to the mix. Some OFs say they are not mechanics but yet they keep all these engines running.

As the scribe listened to all this, and sorting out words from noise, the scribe thought about his dad telling him: If it is run by external fuel, it is an engine, and that includes steam, but if it is run by electricity, it is a motor.

But like boats and ships this is not a hard and fast rule. Engine Sports does not have the ring to it than Motor Sports does. Why that came to the scribe, he does not know, but the next conversation was on what and how the OFs learned from their moms and dads.

 

Parental lessons

Because it was mostly on man stuff, it was the OF’s dads who were discussed even though Mother’s Day is coming up.

How, as kids, the OFs learned from their dads is varied, some dads were good teachers, and some did not have the knack. Some of the OFs’ dads were easygoing types, and some weren’t.

What kind of dads the OFs thought they were, the OFs did not know. On the farm, dads had to be pretty good teachers without knowing it or the OFs at the table who were raised on farms wouldn’t be here; it would be someone else.

Learning from your parents, the bus, and the school of hard knocks, one OF thought was better than school and the books. The OF said, “Why the h--- did we have to learn Roman numerals?”

This OF said he didn’t think even the Roman engineers did their engineering in Roman numerals. Another OF suggested it was necessary to know Roman numerals so we could tell time on some of the clocks.

“Hey,” the OF replied, “We look at all those letters and still say the number 15. How about Roman numerals for 15 and 5/8 plus or minus a 3/8? Why, it would take a whole sentence of Roman numerals. Just to do a simple math problem would take a whole book, so why did they waste so much time in school to teach Roman numerals?”

Some of the OMOTM just asking.

The Old Men of the Mountain who found time and were smart enough to learn how to drive from generally (who else?) their dads, were able to drive to the Middleburgh Diner in Middleburgh and they were: Rev. Jay Francis, Herb Bahrmann, Lou Schenck, Jack Norray, Dick Dexter, Henry Whipple, John Dab, Elwood Vanderbilt, Dave Hodgetts, Russ Pokorny, Frank Dees, Rick LaGrange, Ed Goff, Roland Tozer, Robie Osterman, George Washburn, Bill Lichliter, Paul Whitbeck, Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Pete Whitbeck, Doug Marshall, Otis Lawyer, Ken Parks, Glenn Patterson, Mark Traver, Joe Rack, Jake Herzog, Jake Lederman, Ted Feurer, Duncan Bellinger, and me.

Post date: 
May 18, 2023

Print this page

by Mary Ellen Johnson

— Photo from the Guilderland Historical Society

Horses pass the judge’s stand at Victoria Raceway. The raceway featured races run by standardbred horses, horses which have shorter legs and longer bodies than thoroughbreds.

The crowd erupted in cheers for Altamont’s John Oliver as he maneuvered his sulky pulled by Grand Abby, his 14-year-old gelding, into the winning position nearing Victoria Raceway’s finish line, pulling off a victory with his “aged, but consistent good pacer.”
Such was the excitement for race fans at Guilderland’s own harness track in the 1950s.

Today’s travelers cruising west on Route 20 past the old hamlet of Dunnsville, beyond the traffic light at the intersection with County Route 397 will soon spot a sign out front of a neat farm identifying itself as Victoria Acres. Difficult to imagine today, but for a time in the 1950s that same farm had a half-mile track where pacers and trotters competed in harness races, while during a few years in the l960s NASCAR-sanctioned stock cars roared around the same track.

Businessman Charles Russo, owner of Rudisco, an Albany wholesale company that distributed electrical equipment, in 1950 acquired the 186-acre farm west of Dunnsville opposite the Swiss Inn, a popular dining and dancing spot.

Research doesn’t show whether Russo named the property Victoria Acres at the time of his purchase or if the acreage had already acquired that name. Russo not only owned horses himself, but his son Peter was a horseman who had begun racing at Saratoga’s harness track as a teenager in 1948.

During the time his son Peter was forced to interrupt his horseman’s career for two years of military service, Charles Russo began transforming the old farm into a training site for harness horses and as a home for breeding stock. At the time he took over the farm, Russo’s racing stable included six horses.

By 1953, the first notices appeared in The Altamont Enterprise describing harness races that were to be run on the Victoria Acres half-mile track. That first year of racing, three Sunday matinée harness meets were run at what had been renamed Victoria Raceway.

The great local interest among spectators and area horsemen encouraged Russo. His son, now returned from military service, along with the other associates who had helped to organize the 1953 races, worked to expand track operations in 1954.

Characterized in the press as “a new Albany Raceway,” 40 dates had been chosen for harness racing at the new Victoria Raceway. The track was to provide a place where drivers who were amateurs could compete with other amateurs.

Russo and his associates were seeking financial backing to expand the track, planning to incorporate, allowing the corporation to purchase the farm, erect new stables and a grandstand, create parking facilities and a judges’ stand. The original farmhouse was to be updated to make it into a clubhouse for members. However, there was to be no betting.

Announcing in May 1954 that the Victorian Acres Trotting Association had been formed by a group of local horsemen, Russo said the track was now sanctioned and licensed by the United States Trotting Association. Owners of slower horses that couldn’t quite race at the speed demanded in the time trials at a pari-mutuel track would have a place to compete.

Plans for the new track located on the former Charles Russo farm, now owned by a corporation, would include a spectator grandstand for 2,000 people, parking area, refreshment stand, and other necessary facilities.

To get the track up and running, Charles Russo was made president and his son Peter vice president with a secretary and treasurer.

Racing officials of the raceway were presiding judge, associate judge, a starter, assistant starter, starting-gate driver, racing secretary, associate racing secretary, clerk of the course, announcer, two timers, paddock judge, track physician, assistant physician and ambulance driver, three track maintenance men, two gate attendees and a policeman.

Obviously, a sizable number of men from the Capital District had become involved in the raceway.

“Local enthusiasts of harness racing” could view Saturday and Sunday races at 2 p.m. Drivers would mainly be nonprofessionals: horse owners, amateur trainers and drivers, racing for varying purses or trophies.

The main goal of the racers was to train their horses to race, with the objective that some would then qualify at a pari-mutuel track like the Saratoga Harness Track.

Many area horse owners trained and raced their horses at Victoria Acres including a few Guilderland horse owners whose names appeared in The Enterprise during the years that the track was in operation. They included Mike Orsini, Tony Orsini, Earl Gray, and John Oliver.

 

Setback

A big Fourth of July program was scheduled at the raceway that year with special events over the three-day weekend with two trophy races scheduled that Monday.

Alas, a few days later, these ambitious plans were stymied by the New York State Attorney General who ruled the newly formed Albany County harness racing organization had no right to incorporate the Victoria Acres track.

The group had optimistically applied for the dual purposes of getting a license to run harness meets and raising money to upgrade the track and physical plant. The State Harness Racing Commission had handed the application over to Attorney General Nathaniel Goldstein for an opinion.

He ruled that it could not be licensed or incorporated due to state law that permitted only eight harness tracks to have pari-mutuel betting. Non-betting events were limited to short-term racing as at a county fair, not applicable to Victoria Raceway.

In spite of the setback from the attorney general, perhaps with a lengthy appeals process in progress, Victoria Acres continued operation the next year, seemingly quite successfully.

Races were run and for one it was noted a large gathering of harness-racing fans turned up in mid-October to cheer on the sulky drivers in three races with “many fast miles” run by the “sleek gaited pacers and trotters.”

Earlier in that season, there was the added attraction of “Guilderland Day,” a special event held on Decoration Day when Supervisor John Welsh was honored at a big celebration including an Albany drum-and-bugle corps, musical performances, and acrobatic acts to entertain the crowd.

The usual races were run with trophies for the winners.                                                                                                                 

Early in 1956, fifty standardbred horses were in training there with some breeding going on as well. Dr. John Brennan, retired Guilderland veterinarian, remembered “Charlie” Russo calling him not long after he had begun his veterinary practice on Route 20, requesting his services at the farm.

That spring, Charles Russo, who continued to be identified as president and general manager of Victoria Acres Inc., listed that year’s track officials, noting that Racing Secretary Edwin S. Smith of Loudonville was in the process of lining up races.

The meets would begin at 2 p.m. with free parking and admission for spectators. Matinée races on April 17 kicked off the season. Due to lack of lighting around the oval, there could be no night racing.

Late winter of 1957 found 45 trotters and pacers training at the Victoria Raceway track, several of them previously winning horses at leading pari-mutuel tracks in the eastern United States, now preparing for the 1957 season.

Claiming the half-mile track was one of the finest winter training tracks in the East, there was a “daily beehive of activity” as the owners and trainers readied their horses for the beginning of the meets at various harness tracks.

Victoria opened on Sunday, May 5, when several men from Altamont entered horses for the spring events.

 

Betting on horizon

The big news that spring was the announcement that the track had applied for pari-mutuel status to allow betting on the premises. New York state not only strictly controlled betting at race tracks, but limited the number of harness tracks in the state where betting could take place.

State approval was necessary before Victoria could take that step. An opening had occurred that would allow one additional harness track in the state to achieve pari-mutuel status, putting Victoria Raceway in competition with other tracks with the same ambition.

The New York State Racing Commissioner George P. Monaghan, who had the power to name the successful applicant, visited the track in mid-May to examine its facilities and its physical layout and to hear about its projected plans.

He toured the grounds after being entertained at lunch by Russo and track officials. Guilderland Town Supervisor John Welsh also participated.

Monaghan was probably shown the diagram of the track’s planned expansion; the same diagram illustrated an article in the May 31 issue of The Altamont Enterprise.

There was to be a new clubhouse, grandstand, stables and other facilities; in all, over $2,000,000 was to be spent.

The Guilderland group was informed by Monaghan at the time of his visit that he intended to hold additional hearings concerning the matter in New York City after which they would be notified of his decision.

When the decision became known in mid-July, it was a deep disappointment to everyone whose dream was to establish a first-class harness track in Guilderland.

Instead, the pari-mutuel license was handed out to a Sullivan County track because Victoria Raceway was only 35 miles away from the Saratoga Harness Track. This marked the end of Victoria’s quest to become a major harness track.

Harness racing continued in 1958, though there seemed to be little coverage of the races. One race in October did draw 2,000 fans “thrilled” by the race program, especially since one of the winners was a horse that had been bred and trained at Victoria Acres.

A spring meet was scheduled for 1959 and there was a birth announcement of the foaling of a black colt by Charles Russo’s stallion Forbes Chief. Having lost its bid to become a pari-mutuel track, harness racing came to a quiet end at Victoria Acres. By 1960 the half-mile oval track had become home to NASCAR stock car racing — another story entirely.

Post date: 
May 18, 2023

Print this page

by Frank L. Palmeri

After 50 years in the workforce, I’m finally approaching retirement. It took a very long time for me to get comfortable with the prospect of not having a place to go on Monday mornings.

Think about it — when you go to a party and meet new people, the first question asked so often is: “So what do you do?” Answering with the R-word will be strange for sure.

I’ll miss my job a little, but I’ll miss my co-workers much more. Being part of a team and getting projects done is very satisfying. To work hard and then to accomplish goals with other motivated and responsible people is very rewarding. I know I’ll miss that a lot.

Don’t get me wrong: I work in a large bureaucracy, and that drives me crazy. It’s just inherently soulless on so many levels. The endless memos, meetings, and artificial deadlines, to say nothing of the crazily complicated budgeting and purchasing process, are not something I’ll miss.

If I never see another “You don’t have to be crazy to work here, but it sure helps” sign, or a poster of a kitten hanging by a thread with the caption “Hang in there,” that will be perfectly all right with me as well. At least I didn’t have a countdown retirement clock displaying on my monitor for the last 20 years, haha.

Here are two very different examples of a possible retired life:

— I know a retired cement contractor who has a big barn in the country where he does top-level restorations of cars and trucks. I once asked him, “How do you manage to get so much quality work done?” He replied, “I treat this like a job. I’m out here at 7 a.m. five days a week, rain or shine, and I work all day. That’s the only way to do it.”

— A friend who works in a local motorcycle shop told me about a guy who rode in and asked to have the air pressure in his tires checked. My friend explained that tires heat up as you drive or ride and that, to get the true air pressure, it’s best to do it yourself first thing in the morning, or after the vehicle has been sitting for a few hours. The guy replied: “I’m retired. I don’t have to do anything anymore. Just check the damn tires.”

Between these two extremes, I’m hoping to find a good balance for living in retirement. Yes, I have plenty of hobbies: motorcycling, both riding and restoring; music performance; writing; woodworking; exercise; and so many more.

But do I really want to commit to doing any of them at 7 a.m. every day, all day? I’m not so sure about that. I mean, if I wanted another job, I would just get another job.

Conversely, do I want to be the guy with a goofy “I’m retired and I can wine all I want” T-shirt and sit around all day doing nothing? Not a chance. I’ve seen enough daytime TV to know that’s something I don’t want any part of.

I’m hoping retirement will offer a new and varied set of challenges and opportunities. The trick will be to balance so many interests to achieve some kind of harmony.

For example, I’ve been thinking long and hard about volunteering for everything and anything: fire company, Habitat for Humanity, library trustee, and many more.

You often see gray-haired Baby Boomers like I’ll soon be doing things to help out in the community. I definitely want a piece of that, but how much commitment can I really promise?

I have grandchildren that I’m hoping to see more of. Then there’s that long hoped-for travel that we all look forward to, once we have the time.

Finally, there is the declining energy problem. As we get older, we have to use it wisely, because there just isn’t that unlimited amount available anymore like there used to be when we were young. Sigh.

When I drive to work, I’m on the road before 6 a.m. There is nobody on the road at that time, and I just zoom into the office.

Conversely, on days I have off and I’m driving later in the day, there is a lot of traffic and congestion. Yikes. I sure wish the stores opened on “my” time. I’m so used to getting up early, I could get all my errands done by the time everyone else is just going out.

Then again, without having an early job to get to, I may wind up staying up later at night and then getting up late like everyone else. I honestly have no idea which way this will go. I do like the mornings because they’re so quiet and peaceful, and I would hate to lose that most precious and peaceful part of the day. We’ll see.

Having a lot more time to read is something I’m looking forward to very much. In fact, I can see myself riding — either motorcycle or bicycle — or driving to interesting places just to find new places to sit peacefully and read. If I only did that, I’d be very happy. So many books, so little time!

After a long life of working, a well earned retirement offers plenty of new opportunities for self growth, helping others, and just plain relaxing. It will be so interesting to see how my time fills up without having to be at a certain place at a certain time every day anymore.

It has taken me a long time to get to this place, and I’m still skeptical of using the R-word at parties or wearing a goofy retirement T-shirt. Still, after a life of working, now it’s time to relax, at least a little. Wish me luck.

Post date: 
May 11, 2023

Print this page

by Mike Nardacci

— Photo by Mike Nardacci
A stretch of the Onesquethaw Creek near the intersection of Routes 85 and 443. Much of the year, the streambed appears dry and its water flows underground but wet weather and snowmelt can overwhelm the subterranean conduit and cause water to flow over the surface bedrock.

Rainy weather is the bane of most geologic field trips; perhaps the only weather worse is wet falling snow. A geology field trip in our part of the country often involves tramping through rough and sometimes wet terrain in search of locales in which our ubiquitous forests and ground cover do not obscure the bedrock; hence it may reveal fossils or minerals or tectonic structures contained therein and precipitation in any form can make for a genuinely miserable learning experience.

But the exceptions are field trips illustrating karst features. In times of snowmelt or heavy rainfall, a karst landscape reverberates as its sinkholes, grikes, springs, and disappearing streams gurgle with the sudden flow of turbulent waters. 

At such times, it is well worth the effort to put on a rain slick and waterproof boots and head off into one of the many karst preserves of the Helderberg area and appreciate the dynamic features of these landscapes and of the hidden mysteries that lie beneath them.

However romantic the notion of cave geology may seem, the understanding of karst begins with a singularly mundane fact: Caves are in essence natural storm drains.

The term karst itself is derived from “Kras,” which is a plateau bordering on Slovenia and Italy. In the 19th Century, geologists recognized that its limestone bedrock laced with caverns and featuring sinkholes, underground rivers and streams, and springs represented a whole relatively unexplored branch of geologic studies.

The storm drains found in city streets, which are often miscalled “sewers,” transport runoff beneath the streets to the nearest river or stream without filtering it.

Likewise, in a karst region, rainfall and surface waters that are naturally mildly acidic can dissolve carbonate bedrock such as limestone or marble and produce subterranean streams that can flow for miles before they reach a place where they return to the surface in springs that may be either gravity-fed or artesian defying gravity. And in doing so they often carry volumes of sediments — both organic and non — and spew them back into the world.

Much of the Helderberg Plateau contains limestone surface bedrock. In the area of Thacher Park, two limestone layers named the Coeymans and the Manlius form a cliff 100 feet high in places featuring numerous small caves. A couple of hundred feet higher is a broad terrace formed on top of the Onondaga limestone cliff and traversed by the Beaverdam Road.

There are on the surface great numbers of sinkholes and fractures called grikes that can take water in wet times, and the caves in these limestone strata will then produce springs that burst from the cliffs under the pull of gravity and flow down into the valley below.

A similar gravity spring emerges from Barton Hill in Schoharie above Route 146. These springs frequently produce micro-environments conducive to the growth of mosses, ferns, algae, and watercress.  At times — often seasonal — the waters emerging from gravity springs may be saturated with calcium carbonate in solution and will coat the rocks and organic materials in their paths with the mineral producing a spongy-looking rock known as tufa.

In dry times, water may be flowing just beneath the surface of dry-looking stream beds but will overflow to the surface during periods of snowmelt or high precipitation. One such example can be found in the upper reaches of the Onesquethaw Creek where it flows beneath a bridge near the intersection of Routes 443 and 85.

What for much of the time is a flat, arid limestone pavement featuring numerous grikes and other fractures becomes a series of plunge pools and rapids when excess precipitation renders the conduit just beneath the surface inefficient to carry the excess water.

Similar weather conditions can also produce temporary artesian springs in which water under pressure flows upward against gravity. The volume of water in a sizable cave passage overwhelms the ability of the cave to carry it, just as storm drains blast water to the surface when the volume of water exceeds the ability of the conduit to transport it.

An impressive example occurs several times each year near what is called the Gregory Entrance to Clarksville Cave. A fracture at the base of the surrounding cliff exhibits an impressive artesian spring: a cloudy pool with a surging hump of water in the middle as turbulent waters flow upward out of the cave and down an otherwise dry streambed and under Route 443.

This spring not only flows during times of snowmelt but may form and be gone within 24 hours in warmer weather following sudden heavy rainfall.

 

Disappearing streams

But perhaps the most impressive feature of a karst landscape during periods of exceptionally wet weather or spring thaw is the presence of disappearing streams. Pockmarking the terrain will be dozens — sometimes hundreds — of sinkholes that form when surface bedrock collapses into a void below.

At such times, flowing liquids will head toward the lowest topographic point and will produce streams that may flow for hundreds or thousands of feet over bedrock that does not dissolve as limestone does or tightly-packed glacial debris, both of which are common in the Helderberg area.

Suddenly reaching a sinkhole, a raging stream may vanish abruptly into the darkness below, leaving the surrounding landscape quiet except for bird calls. A well-known example is the sinkhole entrance to the Onesquethaw Cave system south of the village of Clarksville.

Sport cavers have long had great respect for Onesquethaw, which is capable of sudden flooding with rapidly-moving water following short periods of intense precipitation. The sinkhole entrance is in a very low area surrounded on its west side by steep shale hills, the runoff of which can cause huge volumes of water to cascade into the entrance. The flow resurges in a gravity spring a mile or so away off Route 32.

Geologists are known for braving dangerous topography and unpleasant weather conditions in pursuit of knowledge and mild, dry weather will ordinarily be most welcome on expeditions. But to truly appreciate a karst landscape it must be seen in weather conditions that would keep the less adventurous indoors.

For when the heavy rains fall or the snows melt, the landscape comes alive, with otherwise dry fractures in cliffs and other bedrock exposures suddenly blasting great volumes of sediment-laden water. These waters form rushing, meandering streams that seem to have come from nowhere; fields and forests full of gaping sinkholes that swallow those temporary streams then conduct the waters through dark chambers to often unknown destinations.

It is a landscape filled with mysterious sounds and sights that are well worth the temporary discomfort in experiencing them.

Post date: 
May 10, 2023

Print this page

by John R. Williams

Guess what! The Old Men of the Mountain managed to gather again on Tuesday, April 25, at a new/old place with a new name. The place is Hillbelly’s in Westerlo.

One of the Old Men of the Mountain worked here many years ago when he was 15 years old and his grandfather owned the place. The OG is now 72 and eating in the same spot on this planet that he did when his mom probably fixed his lunch for him.

Now he has to buy his own lunch while someone in the kitchen puts it together and a cute little waitress brings it out. My goodness, some of the OFs don’t wander too far away from home.

Just like a bunch of old hens, the OFs talk about cooking more than one would think. One time it was how to build a sandwich; this time it was how to make potato salad.

For some reason this was a carry-over from the OF who said he planted 150 pounds of potatoes already. These OFs claim that, for one to make good potato salad, it is necessary to start with old potatoes — maybe a year old.

To some of the OFs, this takes considerable planning to store away this year’s potatoes for next year’s potato salad. The OFs said the spuds do have a bunch of eyes that have to be cut out before being cleaned and cut up but they do make great potato salad.

One OF said his father never really planted their potatoes but they always had quite a crop. This OF said, after cutting up the seed potatoes, his father just threw them on prepared ground in something that looked like rows (the OF said his father wasn’t too fussy) and then covered them up with straw.

When it was harvest time, they would just pull up the plant, and take off the potatoes, and they were just about all the same size by the straw covering and not dirt, the potatoes were then put in sacks, and hauled off to the root cellar.

 

Reunions

Now we go on to the next topic. Not many family reunions happen with the OFs but some do travel hither and yon to attend these rare family events.

In this conversation, a few of the OFs talked about meeting with the people they graduated with. Strange that the only ones who talk about this are meeting with their high school class, not college; this may be because we all are required to go to school up until the 12th grade; college is an elective.

There are, in the military, certain reunions but again most of the time the military was elective except when the draft was in force and that friendly greeting came from the government. The ones who received the greeting were advised to serve — election had nothing to do with it.

In this discussion, the OFs noted how many of their classmates have passed on, which makes their reunion gatherings smaller and smaller. The group called the Old Men of the Mountain is open-ended; it has no age limit at either end, the rule is just show up, but these high school reunions are the other way and that is what the OFs talked about — how few are left in some of them, and the shape some of the remaining members are in.

One OF put it this way: At some point, there will be one chair not turned over, or it may work out that the waiter has to turn all the chairs over. Some of the Old Men of the Mountain hope with this group it never gets to that point.

 

Cognoscente 

The gathering this Tuesday morning had one OF present an offering from one of his friends who is doing a survey for some hospital on “cognizant.” (A brief check in Google says this means “knowledge of something, especially through personal experience.”)

This OF said his friend thought the OMOTM would be a great group to be part of that study. This OF gave a brief dissertation on what would be involved.

The doctor would either come to the OF’s home or the OF could go to the doctor’s home. The OF said the question-and-answer period would be about three hours long. The OFs muttered this is no rinky-dink item.

“Three hours, I can’t stay awake that long,” one OF uttered quietly.

The information offered by the OF doing the presentation was pretty sketchy for now. The OFs thought for a study like this, this group is pretty “hip” because more often than not at each breakfast the OFs time jump from the 1930s to 2023 in a couple of sentences.

So far within the group, memory does not seem to be a problem. One OF suggested that might be just what they are looking for.

“I don’t know,” was a reply. “I can tell you what my wife was wearing when we first met, but I can’t tell you what she has on today.”

“Me too,” an OF replied. “I can tell what my mother used to make for us as kids for breakfast when we came in from doing chores in the barn, but come 4 o’clock this afternoon and I won’t be able to tell you what I am having right now for breakfast.”

It will be interesting to see how many takers we have on this. For now though the Old Men of the Mountain were enjoying their breakfast at the Hillbelly’s Restaurant in Westerlo, New York. 

The Old Men of the Mountain who made it to the new/old restaurant were: Ed Goff, Rick LaGrange, Miner Stevens, Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Bill Lichliter, Robie Osterman, George Washburn, Doug Marshall, Frank Fuss, Roland Tozer, Frank Dees, Russ Pokorny, Rev. Jay Francis, Herb Bahrmann, John Dab, Bob Donnelly, Dave Hodgetts, Elwood Vanderbilt, Allen Defazzo, Gerry Chartier and guest Winnie Chartier, Dick Dexter, Jack Norray, Lou Schenck, and me.

Post date: 
May 10, 2023

Print this page

by Michael Seinberg

Ever since the pandemic took hold in 2020, I’ve noticed an interesting thing. People are giving things away at a pretty serious pace.

Some pundits suggested that this was the result of people being stuck home for a year and realizing that they owned too much stuff and their homes were cluttered. But I think the movement started even earlier with folks like Marie Kondo preaching simplicity and selling millions of books in the process.

But if you doubt there’s an issue with stuff, just look around. What has grown in the past 10 to 15 years faster than dollar stores, Starbucks, and CVS on every suburban corner? Self-storage facilities.

The darn things are breeding like bunnies. And what is a self-storage facility at the most basic level? It’s a rental apartment for your stuff. Seriously.

You pay a monthly rent, get a locked area and you fill it with your excess stuff that won’t fit into your already full house. And what makes this truly silly is that the average American home is bigger than it’s ever been in history.

In postwar burbs, houses were around 850 square feet. Nowadays, try more like 1,600 to over 2,000 square feet and yet families have not grown; in fact, they’re smaller on average.

A big part of the problem is our insane, unsustainable consumer economy which harangues us 24/7 that buying things will make us happy, fulfilled, thinner, prettier, and better. When, in reality, the average American in 2023 has never been more anxious, depressed, angry, sad, freaked out, medicated, and just generally miserable thanks to an endless march of crazy on the news and in life.

Crazy ex-president, crazy pandemic, wars, crazy politics, mass shootings, and a 24/7 news cycle that just keeps serving up more crazy, in an effort to sell us more stuff between crazy stories.

But into this wilderness, there is a very bright spot. It’s called the Buy Nothing Project, which started back in 2013 out in Washington state and has now spread all over our country and the world.

The basic idea is a group of people, usually in the same geographic area, join up on Facebook or a similar platform. They do one of two things. They either offer things up for free or ask fellow group members if anyone has something they are looking for.

In this way, people maximize their ownership of various things by making sure they end up in the hands of people who actually want/need those objects.

Since joining our local Buy Nothing group, my wife and I have been able to rid ourselves of a vast array of things that we no longer use or need, and many people have been the happy recipients. At the same time, we’ve been able to give a new home to things others no longer need but we find useful every day.

Case in point is the small play area in our backyard populated by various child playthings like a house, a slide, and an enclosed kitchen with a standalone grill. Really. We got them from folks whose kids outgrew them and now our grandchildren just love playing with them.

We got them cars, bikes, and clothes that way too. And, as they have outgrown things, we passed them on to others whose kids and grandkids are using them. It’s a truly lovely cycle to watch.

And here’s the really great thing about this. No money ever changes hands. No taxes get paid multiple times in our vastly overtaxed state. This is the ultimate example of recycling and upcycling.

It’s all about people helping neighbors and strangers alike to live better without having to go into debt to do it. Looking at the play area, I know that at some point, somebody spent several hundred dollars on this stuff. But it’s going to get used by far more than one family before it finally wears out and for now, it stays out of the wastestream and keeps money in the pockets of real people.

Of course, what our capitalist overlords would prefer is very different. They would like every family to buy everything and send their last dollar to the overstuffed pockets of billionaires and their destructive corporations. I’m thrilled that we’ve helped make those folks a little poorer.

Imagine what our country and our world might look like if Buy Nothing became the dominant philosophy. Or what if we were able to form community cooperatives where we pooled resources and bought things that we shared.

In my neighborhood, almost everyone has a lawnmower, a riding mower, a snowblower, a chainsaw, and a garage and shed full of garden and lawn tools. What if we had a community shed with all that stuff in it and we shared it? Imagine the money and the space saved. Imagine the fear in the hearts of John Deere executives.

I’m not suggesting a classic socialist/communist situation at all. I am suggesting that we’ve all been sold a bill of goods and if we want to survive long-term, we need to rethink the idea of buying and owning every damn thing they throw at us. Just think how much simpler life would be if you didn’t have to buy, store, maintain, and replace things all the time.

Anyway, I need to go make sure the batteries for my push mower are charged, the tank on the tractor is full, and the snowblower is safely tucked away till next winter. Sigh.

Editor’s note: Mike Seinberg and his wife say they enjoy giving away things they no longer use.

Post date: 
May 10, 2023

Print this page