Archive » May 2025 » Columns

— Photo from Jesse S. Sommer

Holly’s senior photo, Milton Academy Class of 1968

At 1 p.m. on Saturday, June 14, 2025, the family of the late Dr. Holly Cheever, DVM, will memorialize her many contributions to our community and her tireless advocacy in the service of animal rights.

We invite Holly’s friends, fans, and former clients to attend this gathering! Join us in New Scotland at the Pond Hill Pavilion (20 Brownrigg Road, Feura Bush, NY 12067) as we celebrate the legacy of our wife, mother, grandmother, neighbor, beloved village veterinarian, and ever-inexhaustible voice for the voiceless.

This ceremony is free and open to the public. Obviously — and as “Dr. Holly” would’ve insisted — babies and pets are welcome.

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Mary Helen “Holly” Cheever arrived on Jan. 22, 1950, in Cambridge, Massachusetts — the youngest of three born to Dan Sargent Cheever Sr. and Olivia Thorndike Cheever. She was raised Unitarian amidst an expansive yet closeknit community of cousins who trace their American roots back to Ezekial Cheever’s arrival to the Massachusetts Bay Colony in 1637.

In what would prove to be among the most defining tragedies of her life, Holly lost her mother to cancer in 1954. She was only 4 at the time, yet Holly carried with her this grief for the rest of her life. Her father remarried in 1956, at which time Holly welcomed the Heaven-sent “Auntie” May Bryant into her heart.

Holly attended high school at Milton Academy in Massachusetts, whereat she was captain of the girls’ lacrosse team. She studied anthropology and Greek folklore mythology at Harvard University, from which she graduated summa cum laude in 1972.

She then worked for the Frontier Nursing Service in eastern Kentucky, providing healthcare and neonatal services to rural, underserved populations in the Appalachian Mountains. In 1980, Holly graduated first in her class from the Cornell University College of Veterinary Medicine and began her practice as a large-animal (dairy) veterinarian.

Holly met attorney Dean Sommer in 1978; they were married in June 1980 and promptly conceived four children in five years. Their first child, Jesse, was born in July 1982; he was followed by sisters Caitlin (December 1983), Robin (January 1986), and Brenna (March 1988).

Holly and Dean moved to the town of New Scotland in 1983 and immediately set about establishing a wildlife preserve on property that they fashioned into a sanctuary for abused and neglected animals.  Throughout her 40 years in Albany County, Holly’s home was shared by dogs, cats, guinea pigs, goats, horses, cows, ponies, and chickens hatched in a slew of local kindergarten classes.

As a result of Holly’s interfaith marriage, the family observed both Christian and Jewish traditions, yet its core moral ethos was and always will be vegetarianism. Her most fervent and desperate hope for humanity is that it ends the cultivation and consumption of sentient life, as Holly viewed all lifeforms as being her equal and in need of human guardianship.

In a story she relayed to Altamont Enterprise columnist Dennis Sullivan in 2015 about a cow she’d encountered years earlier:  “There is a lot more going on behind those beautiful eyes than we humans have ever given [animals] credit for, and, as a mother who was able to nurse all four of my babies and did not have to suffer the agonies of losing my beloved offspring, I feel her pain.”

“Dr. Holly” viewed her patient population to be of the furry and feathered variety; their human companions were merely the gracious chaperones who ferried them to her for care. As testament to her nascent entrepreneurship, Holly founded Voorheesville’s Village Animal Clinic in the town of New Scotland in 2010 after a long veterinary career in adjoining Bethlehem and Guilderland.

It was in caring for the community’s pet population that she became ingratiated to the entire Capital District. Following her passing, Holly’s family was stunned by the thousands of comments on social media expressing their condolences and sharing tearful anecdotes about the magnitude of her compassion for the winged and four-legged members of their families.

Dr. Holly occupied a lofty posture in town, having been welcomed into the homes of those who turned to her to treat, save, and rehabilitate the family dog or the squirrel found injured on the side of the road. She was most praised for the genuine empathy and commiseration she displayed in the end-of-life care she afforded families compelled to say goodbye to their old and suffering animal companions.

Holly was an avowed and impenitent feminist, she was militantly anti-war, and she was a committed conservationist. She was a pioneer in so much of what she did and in ways taken for granted today.

For example, in retaining her maiden name, in pursuing a career in veterinary medicine, and in serving as a coach for her daughters’ hockey teams, Holly was committed to expanding, redefining, and safeguarding women’s roles in public life.

Holly was an avid reader, brilliant writer, and a ferociously talented public speaker. She was a polyglot, musician, artist, athlete, seamstress, choir singer, horseback rider, sailor, gardener, and baker.

She was notorious for her signature piercing whistle and for rollerblading all about town throughout the 1990s and early 2000s. And, when her children were young, Holly was also known for never letting them eat Froot Loops.

Yet despite the indignity of such a tyrannically outrageous restriction, she was nonetheless named “Mother of the Year” by the city of Albany in 2021. As she said at the ceremony heralding this distinction: “I feel very humbled and very delighted. I care a lot about animal rights and animal welfare. I think a vote for me is perhaps a vote for the entire planet of animals with whom we share this world.”

After a long battle with Parkinson’s disease and, ultimately, dementia, Holly passed away surrounded by her entire family on Sunday, Feb. 9, 2025, in her native Massachusetts. She was 75.

In the words of her dear friend and business partner, Dr. Mike McCarthy: “Dr. Holly was a brilliant veterinarian [and] fierce advocate for animal health and welfare …. She was Good Housekeeping’s veterinary columnist for many years. She was a founding member of the [Association of Veterinarians for Animal Rights]. She testified, in front of Congress, about animal abuse in circuses and about the carriage horse industry in New York. She also taught in many veterinary schools across the country, instructed the New York State Police about animal abuse laws, taught veterinary forensics courses, testified in many animal abuse cases nationwide and, of course, co-founded The Village Animal Clinic in Voorheesville.”

Holly’s mission in life was to end humanity’s abuse and disregard of animals; she refused to eat “anything with a central nervous system,” and she dedicated her life to dozens of causes focused on alleviating animal suffering.

She fought to remove elephants from circuses, orcas from SeaWorld, aquariums from cities, and carriage horses from the streets of New York City. She worked to ban tail-docking and ear-cropping, as well as feline declawing.  She forcefully advocated against the vicious brutality of foie gras cultivation and factory farming.

Her work was both national (testifying before Congress) and local (introducing dozens of Voorheesville’s students to what’s really in a hot dog), and she never relented in the face of the (often enraged) critics she made uncomfortable through her uncompromising, unselfconscious, and unapologetic truth-telling.

Dr. Holly Cheever, DVM, was an unparalleled talent with an unrivaled intellect and an unmatched capacity for compassion. To the community, she was Dr. Holly; to her admirers, she was “a hero”; to her husband, she was “The General”; to her children, she was “Mum”; to her grandchildren, she was “Moo Moo”; and to the many animals who were lucky enough to find themselves in her care, she was their voice. 

She is missed, both because she was so loved and because her advocacy was so crucial.

Holly is survived by her brother (Dan Cheever Jr.), her sister (Olivia Cheever), as well as by her husband and four children, two of whom gave her the grandchildren — Weylin, Lilly, Griffin, and Ella — for whom she’d been waiting since the moment her own youngest was out of diapers.

Holly is now finally reunited with her mother, her father, and the many guinea pigs who accompanied her on her journey through life.

Holly’s family has directed charitable donations in her memory to the Catskill Animal Sanctuary and New York State Humane Association, the latter of which declared Holly to be “one of the fiercest animal protection advocates in history.”

Yet for those seeking to pay their respects and honor Holly’s legacy, her family has expressed the following: In lieu of flowers, don’t eat meat. In lieu of not eating meat, always be kind to animals.

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“For as long as Man continues to be the ruthless destroyer of lower living beings, he will never know health or peace. For as long as men massacre animals, they will kill each other. Indeed, he who sows the seed of murder and pain cannot reap joy and love.”Pythagoras

MIDDLEBURGH — Here we are again. At Mrs. K’s. Weren’t we here last week? As Yogi Berra once famously said, “It’s like déjà vu all over again.”

Well, that is what starts to happen at this time of the year. Vacations! Remember what was written about there being only one waitress at each diner? And that waitress knows all of us, and we know her, we can joke with her, and she can joke right back. She can give as well, or better, than she gets.

She knows what we are going to order, where we sit, doesn’t even have a menu to hand out. Having 20 or 30 OMOTM walk through the door pretty much at the same time doesn’t faze her at all.

What happens if she is on vacation? You might get a rookie! I personally have a hard time imagining a scarier thing if I were thrust into that situation. Can you imagine facing 25 OMOTM all at once who get grumpy just for the hell of it, much less if you mess up their breakfast order?

What would you do? It’s hard to get and keep customers, no matter what business you are in. It takes time to cultivate potential customers and you can lose them forever in a heartbeat over a real or imagined issue.

In this case, you could let the powers that be know that you had an issue and could we go to one of the other diners that particular week? But who would that be? There are no “powers that be” with the OMOTM. No president, no officers of any kind.

Wait, wait, I know who I’ll contact: the guy who writes the column for The Enterprise. He will know how to fix it. Right.

John Williams, our Scribe Emeritus, gave me a few hints a while after I started writing this column. On one occasion he said to me, “Along with writing the column for The Altamont Enterprise, you also become the chief cook and bottle washer for the group.”

Oh. OK. Now I'm starting to feel like that rookie I just wrote about. So I looked at my calendar to see what diner I could call. Everything worked out all right and since I also maintain the email list, I let everyone know.

Whew, escaped that issue. It wasn’t all that bad. Then I got another email from another diner, “Hey, we are on vacation on the 27th. Could you ….”  Sure I can.

Mother’s Day

We just had Mother's Day this past Sunday.

It was a wonderful day; the weather cooperated and the above-mentioned hardworking waitresses either had the day off or were rather busy working at their restaurants because the OMOTM types, who don’t know which end of the spatula to hold, took their much better halves out to dinner rather than embarrassing themselves in a room (the kitchen) they are seldom allowed in for good reasons.

I stand corrected. Most of us do know which end of the spatula to hold if we are outside at the barbecue grill with a cold beer in the other hand. But this wasn't going to cut it on Mother's Day.

She really is not going to be impressed with a hot dog or hamburger today and beer is definitely not on her list of beverages on this day. Try a nice wine instead.

One more tip, guys: On behalf of those waitresses who drew the short straw and are working on Mother’s Day, doubling the tax is not close to what is considered an adequate tip anymore (and hasn’t been for quite a while).

In my household, what I described above would be pretty close to the way it was. My wife and I didn't get too carried away with presents or flowers but, if I do say so myself, I used to cook up a pretty good omelet for breakfast.

We didn't go out for dinner very often so I would gather up my favorite spatula and take the special steaks, filet mignon, complete with our favorite sauce and sauteed onions, baked potato, etc., and fire up the grill.

She would be in charge of the sauce (that’s the special kitchen stuff only she knew how to make; I have to look up how to spell s-a-u-c-e.) Dessert would be cheesecake made by the Nuns of New Skete.

I could not grill this filet with a beer; oh no, a nice merlot was the order of the day. We enjoyed cooking special dinners together rather than going out all the time. Sort of made the whole day a little more special for both of us.

Don't get me wrong: We went out plenty of times and we had our favorite restaurants. She is gone now, and I have planted a flower garden in her memory. It was in full bloom on this beautiful Mother’s Day, so I raised a nice glass of merlot to my Midge, and to all the mothers on this, their special  day. Happy Mother’s Day!

The OMOTM, who, with spatulas not in their hands, joined together for breakfast at Mrs. K'’ were Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Ed Goff, George Washburn, Wm Lichliter, Pete Whitbeck, Frank A. Fuss, Mark Traver, Joe Rack, Robert Schanz, Dave Hodgetts, Allan Defazio, Lou Schenck, John Williams, Herb Bahrmann, Al Schager, Duncan Bellinger, John Dab, Paul Guiton, Glenn Patterson, Roger Shafer, Roland Tozer, Ken Parks, Ted Feurer, Jake Lederman, Wayne Gaul, Jake Herzog, Chuck Batcher, Russ Pokorny, Gerry Chartier, Bob Donnelly, and me.

MIDDLEBURGH — Rain, rain, go away, come again another day! 

We are sure glad this is May, not January, because, if it were, we could be digging out of two or three feet of’snow instead of singing, “Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream.” As we drove over to Mrs K's Kitchen in Middleburgh on May 7, we saw virtually all the streams and creeks overflowing their banks.

While no flooding was occurring on the roads or threatening any homes, water was getting a little close to some of them. Rained all day and even topped it off with a thunder-and-lighting show around 9 p.m. 

At least it wasn’t cold as the OMOTM made their way to Mrs K’s for breakfast. Once there, you will never guess what the conversations centered about. Yup, rain.

With all the smaller streams and creeks overflowing their banks in many places, and just about all of them eventually flowing into the bigger Schoharie Creek, the question was whether or not it would crest its own banks. The Schoharie Creek was certainly running high and fast.

The topic of the relative merits of the manufacturer of tires, specifically rain tires, naturally was at or close to the top of these discussions.

One OF lamented that, even though he had thoroughly researched rain tires (he was living in North Carolina at the time where tropical storms and hurricanes often visit), when he last bought tires for his car, that was some 60,000 miles ago.

It is a fact that, with the loss of tread on your tires, there is a corresponding loss of traction, no matter how good the tire was when new. Might be time to think about some new tires.

There is nothing wrong with the OMOTM’s sense of humor early on a rainy morning as was clearly demonstrated by some of the following overheard statements.

There were more than a few classic comments floating around the tables dealing with the rising water. Such as:

— “There were white caps on the brand new pond in my back yard!”

— “I think I need an air boat, to get across my yard”;

— “I could stock my front yard with trout and go fishing,;on second thought, it might have fish already in it from the creek that flooded”;

— “I think my big new pond in the backyard has tides, it does have a couple of ducks!”and

— “I should float my kayak out there.”

 

Birthday cacophony

The OMOTM were asked to quiet down and give their attention for a very important special announcement. We don't have announcements very often so we knew that something important was afoot.

Since the OMOTM have no officers or anything like that, it can be a bit tricky trying to get a bunch of old guys who are hard of hearing in the first place, to all pay attention at the same time, to just one guy. The job of getting the attention of everyone usually falls to one of the select few loud mouths present at that particular breakfast meeting.

This announcement had to do with our waitress. Now, the waitresses at the five diners the OMOTM travel to on a rotating basis are extremely important. There are only five of them, one per diner, and they know everything!

They know all of us, and we know them. They know where we are going to sit; they know what we are going to order — that’s why none of them even offer to hand any of us a menu. They know which of us wants regular coffee or decaf.

They are always nice, always pleasant, always happy to see us. (That's because we are such big tippers; it is still the same as the tax, right? — right?)

The big news was, it was our waitress’s birthday! Angela is the best waitress at Mrs K'’ Kitchen. As I said, there is only one waitress at Mrs K’s; that’s OK, Angela is still the best one there! By far.

We all sang “Happy Birthday” to her. It was terrible. Every time the OMOTM sing “Happy Birthday,” it never gets any better. Rock-bottom bad. It brings tears to your eyes, but it is sung with sincerity and feeling and a lot of gusto.

Cars stop outside because they hear this awful sound and get confused as to what it means and where it is coming from, and how to get away from it. We are never asked to sing it again.

Even Pastor Jay Francis of the Rock Road Chapel Ministries clearly is not considering the OMOTM for an all-male choir on Sundays. I think I heard him say something to the effect of, “There is enough misery and sadness in the world; there is no real need to add to it.”

Well, today was great, the sun was shining, blue skies, no rain, and the OMOTM got to serenade Angela on her birthday, with gusto. The boys in the OMOTM choir who also enjoyed breakfast at Mrs K'’ Kitchen were; Wally Guest, Harold Guest, Ed Goff, Wm Lichliter, George Washburn, Pete Whibeck, Joe Rack, Frank A. Fuss, Robert Schanz, Warren Willsey, Lou Schenck, Herb Bahrmann, Al Schager, John Jaz, Jerry Cross, Jack Norray, Elwood Vanderbilt, Dave Hodgetts, Bob Donnelly, Alan Defazio, Glenn Patterson, Roland Tozer, Duncan Bellinger, Jacob Lederman, Ted Feurer, Wayne Gaul, Russ Pokorny, Jim Gardner, John Dab, Paul Guiton, Gerry Chartier, and me.

MIDDLEBURGH — For the second morning in a row, the day held the promise of being a nice warm 80 degrees. We will take that anytime Mother Nature feels like handing it to us.

The OMOTM descended  upon the Middleburgh Diner on April 29, and the sun was up and shining brightly at 7 a.m. We raised our cups of fresh coffee to acknowledge the beginning of another fine day. 

This column has made mention before of the many and varied occupations of the OMOTM that you will find among those members who join us each Tuesday morning for breakfast. Maybe the most unique would involve a young man named Jay T. Francis who was born and raised on a family dairy farm in Berne, here in the Hilltowns.

That, in and of itself, is definitely not unique. Many members of the OMOTM can say the same thing. Furthermore, Jay liked being a farmer and wanted to stay and grow the family farm; after all, he is the fifth generation to work that farm, and he can see at least three more generations learning the family farming business.

 He went to school and received a degree in agriculture. Along the way, he realized he also wanted to help those people in need of a helper, in need of a guide and someone to counsel them. Jay felt the calling and enrolled in the Nyack Missionary College in Rockland County. At this point, let me quote from an earlier article appearing in the old Knickerbocker News dated Monday, June 26, 1978. 

Jay “... recalls thinking, ‘Lord, I know you’ll probably make me a missionary in Africa, but I want to build a Christian community here.’ Francis says his prayers were answered in the form of an abandoned, bankrupt, burned-out farm just a couple of farms from where he grew up.” 

Reverend Jay T. Francis, pastor of the Rock Road Ministries in Knox with his wife, Evelyn, took that old farm and built it and more, into exactly that dream while also growing the family farm into a substantial enterprise. 

I will quote once again from a previously published source, this time the Alumni News from his old alma mater, Coby Agricultural and Technical College, written in the fall of 1985. It reads in part, like this:

From pasture to pastor — “Colby Grad Combines Farming and Fellowship … troubled youth have come for help …. and get their life together, so they can function in this world. As a home, the farm is a place people can turn to for help. Over three-hundred people have come here at some time, sent by pastors, parole officers, judges, parents.

Another sentence from the Knickerbocker News: “He is more interested in where they are going than where they’ve been.”

In addition to all of this, Pastor Jay Francis  also maintains a well stocked food pantry with personal-care items that are available to all, free of charge. If you are hungry on a Wednesday morning, there is a free (donations are always welcome) hot breakfast that is maintained by volunteers cooking your breakfast just the way you like it.

I think the world could use more fifth-generation farmers like the Reverend Jay T. Francis, but to meet him on any given Tuesday morning, he is just another OMOTM enjoying breakfast at any one of the five diners we frequent. A good man. One of many in the ranks of the Old Men of the Mountain with a life story you may not suspect. 

Well done, Pastor.

Drone capabilities

Also,  previous columns have discussed the advancements in our phones from the old party lines to every house having it' own private number, to today's wireless cell phones that just about all of us have.

We have talked about the advancements in communication with regards to the volunteer fire and rescue and emergency medical services personnel. All these advances enable them to respond more quickly to the emergency to provide the necessary help as quickly and accurately as possible.

That leads us to Tuesday’s discussion about the use of drones.

One of our OFs is a volunteer fireman and was telling us about the capabilities of these special modern-day drones and some of the wonderful benefits they can and do provide the volunteers and by extension, all of us.

The local demonstration and educational session he attended showed how the drone can help find someone lost in the woods and mountains. These drones have heat-sensing capabilities; it doesn’t matter if it is night or day, thick underbrush, or if the person needing help is under a tree with a bunch of leaves overhead. The licensed operator can tell if they are looking at an animal, like a deer, or if they are looking at a human. 

Remember the column about GPS? These drones know exactly where they are looking and can tell the searchers exactly where to go to find you. To the foot! They can tell an ATV or helicopter where you are and, because they have cameras, the rescue people will know what to bring with them in order to get you out safely.

If it is a fire they are fighting, the drone can tell them right away exactly where a new hot spot has broken out. Good ol’ GPS again and cameras. If, by chance, you just robbed Fort Knox and are trying to hide from the authorities in the woods, good luck with that. 

It really was a fascinating and enlightening conversation, and such drones are in use right here in the Hilltowns right now. Do go ahead, the next time someone says, “Get lost!” go for it, get lost, the volunteers will find you. I do recommend you bring along a PB&J sandwich and some water.

Those who joined the pastor this morning at the Middleburgh Diner were Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Miner Stevens, Ed Goff, George Washburn, Pete Whitbeck, Frank A. Fuss, Warren Willsey, Russ Pokorny, Dick Dexter, John Jaz, Gerry Cross, Jack Norray, Lou Schenck, Herb Bahrmann, and me.