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by Dennis Sullivan

Dorothy Bremer Kohler had this portrait taken on the occasion of her high school graduation.

I thought it might be worthwhile for our readers to know that this past Saturday, Jan. 12, a 95th birthday party was held for beloved New Scotland citizen Dorothy Kohler at the social hall of the New Scotland Presbyterian Church. 

More than 100 folks came from far and wide to celebrate their mother, grandmother, and dear friend, which included a fine luncheon, scintillating conversation, and a beautifully decorated cake. The ongoing esprit de corps was palpable.

Dorothy’s daughter, Wendy, said a few words about the close-knit family that Dorothy and her late husband, Lewis, fostered, calling attention to the retired nurse’s preference that Christmas presents be wrapped with the tightness of “hospital corners” on a bed. 

The pastor of the church, Holly Cameron, also spoke, noting Dorothy’s long-time contribution to the vitality of the church community as an esteemed and valued elder. 

On more than one occasion, attendees broke out into impromptu applause in honor of the fêtée.

Readers of The Enterprise know Dorothy from, among other places, an interview our editor, Melissa Hale-Spencer, conducted for the paper’s podcast when Dorothy’s book of memoir stories appeared in the summer of 2019. It is available online.

Dorothy has been part of the Voorheesville Public Library’s memoir-writing group since it began about a dozen years ago. As a colleague of hers in that group from the start, I felt compelled to say something about her work and offered the remarks that follow in honor of my friend and the friend of every writer in our group:

If I had to describe Dorothy Kohler in a word or two, I would say “simplicity of character.” 

There is an uncomplicatedness to, or in, the woman that is disarming but be aware that she is always taking stock, quietly assessing the world that presents itself before her eyes — and that includes you and me. Thus, she’s nobody’s fool.

And as far as being a person of character, well, the person on the street might call it “having a backbone” a considerable part of which comes from the Christian faith Dorothy observes. She might reject hearing her name put in the same sentence with Mother Teresa but she might accept being referred to as Mother Teresa’s long-lost aunt from Gilboa, New York.

I have been in a memoir-writing group with Dorothy for a dozen years — a group I direct — we’ve met a zillion times. And I am never surprised to see, when report cards come out — and every one of our colleagues would agree — that Dorothy gets A-plusses across the board, in large part because her stories get to the heart of matters.

I think it is accurate to say that everyone in our group is involved in excavating and writing about his/her/their life and, in doing so, is a truth-teller, certainly at the very least a truth-seeker trying to set straight, for the world, “the record” by getting to the hearts of matters.

Being in such a group is most intimate in a certain way. That is, we all listen to the inner voice of each other, its quality and intonation as it reveals the dimensions of the person’s inner life. And, if I were asked to describe Dorothy’s voice I would say “dry martini,” no twist, no olives, no toothpicks, no frills at all.

Dorothy has written about her early life in Astoria, New York and then about the family moving up to Gilboa where a familial community existed that was a picturesque life on the German side of the Alps — a Teutonic blend of “Sound of Music” and “Little House on the Prairie.” 

One of the tricks of the memoir-writing trade is telling one’s story about difficult situations and people with a distance so the tone is not accusatory, degrading, filled with anger or regret thereby allowing the reader, the listener, to enter the picture safely.

That’s why my favorite story of Dorothy’s “Our Family Menopause” brings forth joyous smiles from everybody, a story about her mother, Emma, who was struggling to find a way to deal with a change in her identity.

After someone reads a story during our sessions at the Voorheesville Library, the assembled are invited to make any comment they like; in every instance, after Dorothy reads, the jury says: “We want more!”

And this includes her telling of her journey from “the sticks” to the heart of the city of Albany to become a nurse, and later, when on the job, her efforts to give patients sponge baths from their feet up to the “possible” and from their head down to the “possible.” The “impossible” was out of bounds.

Her published book of stories “Stories of a Life: Remembering Friends and Family” is a treasure. Each reflects the simplicity of character I mentioned.

How happy I am that I have to come to know our friend a bit — and every writer in our group says the same thing: We are all richer for knowing her, being with her, listening to her wit and wisdom for maybe a 10th of her 95 years on earth.

That’s what a dry martini does for the soul.

Feliz cumpleaños, Dorotea. ¡Te deseamos que cumplas muchos años más!

Post date: 
January 16, 2025

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by R. Douglas Marshall

DUANESBURG — Tuesday morning was just what we would expect for a Jan. 7 morning in the Hilltowns outside of Albany. It was dark and cold (single digits) with snow flurries.

What we didn’t expect was the wind. It howled all day right through the night into an equally dark, and cold rest of the week. Except for the wind, welcome to a January winter in the mountains and Hilltowns in upstate New York. 

The OMOTM gathered at Chris’s Chuck Wagon Diner at the appointed hour for our usual good fellowship, good hot coffee, and great food. I was all set to order a waffle, with an egg and link sausage when Chris announced that the waffle-maker machine was under the weather and therefore there would be no waffles today. So I settled for my usual order of a cheese-and-sausage omelette with an English muffin.

Now for an OMOTM love story.

The room had quieted down, as it always does, while we attacked our breakfasts. All except one table. They were rather noisy the whole time with much laughter.

This particular table held some pretty important OMOTM in the form of our Scribe Emeritus John Williams, two other long-time OFs present were Pastor Jay Francis and Harold Guest and the fourth member at the table was Wally Guest.

This love story is about how Harold met and wooed Arline, his wife of 65 years.

Harold was 17 years old and Arline was 16 years old. They both went to Middleburgh High School and were in the same class.

Arline’s family lived in the town of Broome in Schoharie County while John also lived in a small town also in Schoharie County, Huntersville I think. As fate would have it, Arline’s family home was destroyed in a fire that fall and the family subsequently ended up moving much closer to where Harold lived. So now they were in the same class in the same school and lived pretty close to each other.

Not only did Harold think Arline was pretty nice, but so did his older brother. So Harold had to fend him off while he pursued Arline. He was successful in discouraging his brother.

Exceeding six feet, Harold is a substantial man today and I am sure that very few boys would want to be on his wrong side back in those days, even a brother!

As the holiday season approached, Harold wanted to give Arline a Christmas present she would never forget and would never forget who gave it to her. Keep in mind, this was a 17-year-old boy trying to buy a special gift for his 16-year-old girlfriend while they were in high school. 

There was a department store in Middleburgh at that time called Strongs. Harold, having made his decision as to what he wanted his gift to be, went to the store and talked to a lady (the owner?) about what he wanted.

She said she had exactly what he wanted and off they went up to the ladies’ department on the third floor. Sure enough, they picked out the perfect gift and the lady even gift-wrapped it for him! Good thing she did because, if Harold had wrapped it, it probably would have looked like a small version of a Charlie Brown Christmas tree wrapped with two miles of scotch tape!

Arline’s family included a married older sister whose husband was a bit of, in Harold’s words, “a live wire,” sort of a fun guy to be around with a great sense of humor. In fact, I think that knowing Harold and his son Wally today, both the families were blessed with a fine sense of humor. Good thing.

The gift.

It is now Christmas morning and everyone is opening their presents. The moment of truth has arrived. With all eyes upon her, Arline opened Harold’s special gift.

It was — wait for it — a very large pair of panties! Way too big for a 16-year-old girl!

So the “live wire” future brother-in-law put them on himself over his own clothes (I told you they were rather large!) and to the delight and laughter of everyone, spent most of the rest of the day walking around wearing Arline’s Christmas present!

I remind everyone again, this was a 17-year-old’s present to his 16-year-old girl friend!

So what happened? It worked! She never forgot the present and more importantly, never forgot who gave it to her.

They dated throughout high school. Got married, and for the next 65 years loved each other as they raised a family of six kids, and had a few laughs along the way. In fact, when Harold told that story at the OMOTM breakfast on Tuesday, we all laughed one more time and shared the moment right along with him.

Those enjoying breakfast at Chris’s Chuck Wagon Diner, with or without panties, were the man of the hour himself, Harold Guest and his son, Wally Guest, Ted Feurer, Jake Lederman, Jake Herzog, Michael Kruzinski, Wm Lichliter, Frank A. Fuss, Hon Albert E. Raymond, Jamey Darrah, John Williams, Lou Schenck, Jack Norray, Gerry Cross, Dick Dexter, John Jaz, Bill Bremmer (visiting from Kansas City), Henry Whipple, Herb Bahrmann, Russ Pokorny, Jim Gardner, Warren Willsey, Frank Dees, Roland Tozer, Glen Patterson, Mark Traver, Joe Rack, Bob Donnelly, Dave Hodgetts, John Dab, Paul Guiton, Pastor Jay Francis, and me.

Post date: 
January 16, 2025

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by R. Douglas Marshall

DUANESBURG — On this last day of the year, with the weather still holding on to temperatures in the mid to low 40s, the OMOTM arrived at Gibby’s Diner on time as usual. I noticed as I walked in to take my regular seat, so did everyone else.

Pretty much all the OMOTM not only sit at the same table at the diner we are at, but we sit in the same chair! I bet you could blindfold us and just tell us which diner we were at, and that we were standing in the doorway, and we could walk to our chair at our table without hitting anyone or any other table!

We OMOTM are a very special and talented bunch of nice guys, except when someone sits in our chair at our table! Talk about instant grumpiness!

 

Party memories

New Year’s Eve. Brings back memories for all of us. Mostly party memories.

Parties are at the top of that list of memories regarding New Year’s Eve. Parties in high school at someone’s house when we were not old enough to drive. Then we got a little older, not a lot older, just a year or two and the world of where we gathered to have a good time and have a party changed considerably.

We had some really good times. Some good memories. Life goes on and then we have our own families and the responsibilities that go along with those families.

The parties became a little less enthusiastic, not much, but a little. The locations changed as well, maybe a live band and perhaps a little more dancing, a little less drinking.

 

Evolving resolutions

The idea of making New Year’s resolutions has been a constant part of the new year as much as the parties. These resolutions seldom stood the test of time.

I'm going to lose weight, I'm going to be an “A” student, sort of morphs into resolving to be a better boss, or employee, or stopping smoking (still going to lose weight), gotta save money for college for the kids, save money for retirement.

Now we are part of the OMOTM and our resolutions are very few in number. Staying healthy is right at the top of all of our lists.

The most popular resolution of losing a few pounds has given way to staying healthy, which is expressed most commonly as, “I just want to see what 2026 will bring,” or “I want to put this *!#% COVID in the rearview mirror!” (My older sister and her husband both had to deal with mild cases of COVID this Christmas, which really messed up their holidays.)

 

Midnight

A few of us still stay up and watch the ball come down. Then we will kiss our better half, and in honor of all those parties past, we pop the cork on a bottle of champagne and drink a toast to each other and all of our friends, past and present.

Then we put the cork back in the bottle and go to bed.

In the morning, we will make mimosas. A good way to kick off the new year.

Not one of us will resolve to lose weight, and we have all stopped smoking a long time ago, so we will look forward to next Tuesday morning and seeing our OMOTM friends at one of the five great diners we meet at for breakfast.

 

Ice fishing

The last couple of days of this year’s January thaw in December have arrived. The snow is all gone. The lakes are still covered with ice (about an inch thick at most) but no ice fisherman’s shanties are to be found on any of the lakes yet. Ice fishermen are many things; stupid is not one of them. 

These men are a hardy bunch of individuals. It takes a special breed of men to stand around a hole in the ice, stamping their feet, drinking hot coffee, hot chocolate, sometimes even a cold beer, waiting for a small flag (I think they are called tip-ups) to spring to life, signaling a fish is down there, waiting to be brought up. A hardy breed indeed.

There are fake ice fishermen however. If I were to indulge in this ice-fishing endeavor, that would be my classification.

I wouldn’t be hard to find. Just look for a pickup truck towing a large shanty out on the ice. The pickup would have a small quiet generator in the bed with enough capacity to provide enough power to heat and light the lights in the shanty, with enough power left over to handle the small TV and laptop.

I would have a couple of comfortable chairs and a small table for the snacks and the beverage of our choice. I may even have a small camping propane stove so I could warm up some chicken-noodle soup or brew a fresh cup of coffee.

I would not go outside to drill a hole in the ice. The shanty would be big enough so I could drill the hole inside the shanty (located under the table so no one would accidentally step in the hole) and I would have windows so I could watch the real ice fishermen out there stamping their feet, trying to stay warm.

I would be smart enough not to ask them to move further away while stamping so as to not scare the fish away from me. Like I said, ice fishermen are not stupid, not even fake ones.

New Year’s Eve found the following OMOTM enjoying breakfast at Gibby’s Diner: Harold Guest, Wally Guest, George Washburn, Wm Lichliter, Michael Kruzinski, Jamey Darrah, Frank A. Fuss, Albert Raymond, Marty Herzog, Warren Willsey, Russ Pokorny, Jim Gardner, Frank Dees, Jake Herzog, Mark Traver, Glenn Patterson, Roger Shafer, Joe Rack, Pastor Jay Francis, Scribe Emeritus John R. Williams, Lou Schenck, Jack Norray, Dick Dexter, John Jaz, Gerry Cross, John Dab, Paul Guiton, Bob Donnelly, Elwood Vanderbilt, Dave Hodgetts, Alan Defazio, and me

The Old Men Of The Mountain wish each other and all of you who read about us in The Altamont Enterprise, Happy New Year!

Post date: 
January 10, 2025

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