MIDDLEBURGH — It was a lot nicer to drive over to the Middleburgh Diner in the early morning daylight this week. Only have to suffer through losing more daylight for another month and a half until the days start to lengthen.
But first we must mow the lawn one last time, then put the snow tires on, get the snowblower ready, have fires in the fireplace, and enjoy some homemade stew. The fireplace and the stew sound good to us; you can keep the rest.
Last week, the OMOTM had a discussion about how many of us owned motorcycles at any point in our lives and how many still ride. Turned out that probably 50 percent or more rode cycles at one time or another, and around 25 percent still do. Which, as you remember, surprised me.
During this past week, I received some additional info from some OFs and one of them even sent along a really nice photo of his scooter. It looks just like a classic motorcycle except smaller, sorta like a scooter.
Election Day
Election Day! Finally! The OMOTM have only a couple of rules, which are followed pretty closely. They are: We stay away from talking about politics and talking about religion.
Even with this particular election cycle with all of its twists and turns, I never heard any comments, pro or con, about any of it at our breakfast get togethers. I'll go out on a limb and venture a guess that most of the OFs are relieved it is finally over.
Several OFs have served in various capacities on election days gone by. One of them was part of a two-man team, one from each party, that were ready to address any problems that might have occurred with the machines on that day.
He said they had to go to school and learn all about how the machines operated and what to do if this or that happened.
These machines were the old type with the levers. He said they were “bullet proof” and foolproof; you couldn't mess with them.
Other OFs talked about taking the results to the police cars to be taken to the counting stations and all the precautions and cross checks that were in place to prevent mistakes in the counting.
There were always some funny stories connected with some of the strange things that happened along the way. But they were always just natural funny stories that happen to all of us at times. Nothing bad, nothing illegal, just funny.
Varied careers
All of this talk got me thinking about the backgrounds of my fellow OMOTM. They are all from the Hilltowns, but what did they do for a living while they had young families growing up? What did they do to put food on the table and pay the power bill or make that car payment?
There were many farms, mostly dairy I believe, throughout these Hilltowns in the Helderbergs. For many reasons, the number of farms today is a much smaller number than yesterday.
The state of New York and the federal government with all its many departments, provided employment for several OFs. One was a professional engineer with the Department of Transportation for over three decades.
Another OF was in the IT industry with the state, also for decades. I commented to him that he witnessed the whole transformation from before computers were invented to what we have now. Same industry, but totally different. If he retired 25 to 30 years ago, can you imagine the changes?
Speaking of how the computer industry has changed the workplace landscape, how about the OF who's career with the Department of Environmental Conservation also spanned many years.
For many years, one of the OFs earned his living writing computer programs. Another was a machine operator; another, a lineman for Verizon.
Two or three OFs present on Tuesday morning worked in different sections or plants of General Electric. Remember NIMO [National Incident Management Organization]? Yup, we were there as well.
A couple of OFs said they married very well and didn’t worry about it. (We laughed and didn’t believe them. Great idea however.)
Another OF said he has been retired for so long that he forgets what he did for a living. (We laughed at that as well, but this time we believed him.)
The most unusual occupation found around the tables was that of a chimney sweep. One of our OFs started and ran a successful chimney-sweep company. He had to have a license to be a chimney sweep. He had his employees wear the uniform of top hats, white gloves, etc.
The only problem he had was, it was very seasonal. What to do with the rest of the year?
Another longtime OF worked for AT&T. He was totally involved with the switching stations that without them working correctly, your phone call to your neighbor could end up with you talking to someone in California! Just kidding. I think.
He was also very involved at the supervisory level with the laying of the transatlantic phone line. Cell phone anyone?
So now you begin to get the idea of where our Scribe Emeritus, John Williams, got his ideas for his OMOTM columns in The Altamont Enterprise for all those years. With all this diversity of working backgrounds, coupled with the commonality of us living and growing up in the Hilltowns and mountains of Albany County, John, who was a commissioned artist in his own right, could have written the column for decades to come.
One of the constants throughout the years is the final paragraph listing who got together that week for breakfast. Here is the list: Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Miner Stevens, Ed Goff, George Washburn, Wm Lichliter, Roland Tozer, Frank A. Fuss, Gerry Chartier, Jake Herzog, Frank Dees, Jim Gardner, Russ Pokorny, Warren Willsey, Herb Bahrmann, Lou Schenck, Gerry Cross, Lack Norray, Dick Dexter, and me.
DUANESBURG — As we pulled into the parking lot of the Chuck Wagon Diner on Tuesday, Oct. 29, the sun was nowhere to be seen. Daylight Saving Time ends on Nov. 3 so that will help lighten up next week’s drive. Should be at least a little less dark.
It is really the darkness at 5 in the afternoon that gets our attention; it is a long way from sunset at 8:30 p.m. in June! Not only that, the fall foliage here in the Hilltowns is past peak. It is over.
A couple more warm days of Indian Summer ended October and started November. One of those warm days covered Halloween this year. That is good.
It is always fun to see the little kids get all excited in their scary costumes and run around “trick or treating” in search of candy. Halloween and little kids brought back many fond memories of times gone by for the OMOTM.
We remembered carving pumpkins for our children, then they “helped” us carve the pumpkin, and finally they did it all by themselves. At the end, they were pretty darn good.
As we grew older, we kept the spirit of Halloween going with adult costume parties. We all have noted the great big skeletons of various scary animals and scary people that seem to be very popular these days. They are huge! Some of the decorations are as elaborate, or even more so, than what we see at Christmas time.
Hilltown bikers
At one table, an OF was heard to comment that he has started to winterize his motorcycles. Yes he has more than one. This prompted a rather extended conversation regarding motorcycles. Who has them? Do they still ride? What kind? Do you have more than one, how many? Who had a sidecar?
Now remember, we are talking about the OMOTM present at today's breakfast. The question was asked, “How many OFs currently own, or used to own, motorcycles?
I was not prepared for a couple of the answers. Why? A little background info is in order here.
A couple of weeks ago, Oct. 17, The Altamont Enterprise featured a great editorial titled, “Our March of Progress through life should not end in mere oblivion.” It was all about aging and how we deal with the many aspects of this process. Good and bad.
Two sentences, among many in the article, stood out to me. The first was, “Ageism is one of the last socially accepted prejudices.” ( Not a good thing.)
The other was, “Each of us can make an effort not to discriminate against others or, if we are old, against ourselves.” It was the last two words of that sentence that really grabbed my attention, “against ourselves.” I had never thought about discrimination from that perspective before.
I am guilty of that. Because, if I find myself being a little surprised that the OF I'm talking to is remembering when he had his motorcycle and was riding around the Hilltowns with his friends having fun, why do I find that unusual?
Do I really think that this 90-year-old OMOTM has been 90 years old his whole life? Intellectually, I know he was 20 years old, and did things all 20-year-olds do. I had a motor scooter, and a friend stored his motorcycle in my garage; it was licensed and I used it all the time.
So to get back to the OMOTM and their bikes. I found that at least half (probably more) of the OFs present owned and rode one or more motorcycles at one time or another during their lives. At least six OFs ride to this day.
So as I look around the room at my friends, these OMOTM, and see them as they are today, why do I have difficulty seeing them as young men with a full head of dark hair, with little or no extra weight on their muscular bodies?
Why? Because I am guilty of discrimination “against ourselves,” that's why. If some of them drove their antique automobiles to breakfast, my mind says: OK, old people have old cars, but ride new motorcycles? Why not?
Just because we are older, does that mean we can’t, or didn’t, ride a motorcycle? Just because we are older, does that justify saying or thinking, “Good for you, old man.”
See? That's discrimination, no matter who says it or thinks it. Because I’m one of them, and I thought it, I'm discriminating against myself. That will stop right now to the best of my ability.
All of this is not denying that, as we grow older, we are not what we used to be physically, even mentally. We don’t run and jump anymore; many of us wear hearing aids or wear glasses. As we grow old, we walk more slowly.
I know I am not as steady on my feet as I was, and my reactions are not nearly as fast as they were, which is why I do not drive when my daughter and son-in-law are around. They drive, because I asked them to. They are much better than I am.
But we are not invisible. We can contribute, we want to, we have a lot to offer. Discrimination, prejudicial comments, even self-inflicted, or coming externally, eventually wears us down; it diminishes us.
Breakfast with our fellow OMOTM friends, on the other hand, builds us up and brings us a little happiness, so with that in mind, I offer you this week’s list of breakfast attendees: Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Jake Lederman, Wayne Gaul, Ted Feurer, Michael Krazinski, George Washburn, Wm Lichliter, Frank A. Fuss, Roland Tozer, Frank Dees, Russ Pokorny, Jim Gardner, Warren Willsey, Marty Herzog, Jake Herzog, Pastor Jay Francis, Glenn Patterson, Roger Shafer, Mark Traver, Joe Rack, Paul Whitbeck, Paul Guiton, Bob Donnelly, Dave Hodgetts, John Williams, Duncan Bellinger, Lou Schenck, Jack Norray, Gerry Cross, John Jazz, Dick Dexter, Herb Bahrmann, Henry Whipple, Bill Coton, and me.
— Photo from R. Douglas Marshall
Volunteers with the Helderberg Kiwanis stand by the bags full of road trash they picked up.
DELANSON — Ahhhh, Indian Summer: A short, wonderful period of warmer-than-normal, dry, weather that usually occurs after the first frost or freeze. To have this happen right now when the fall foliage is at, or just a little past, peak color, is perfect.
This was a popular topic around the tables at last Tuesday morning's OMOTM breakfast at Gibby's Diner in Delanson/Duanesburg. The warm weather is Mother Nature's gift to all of us this week, at least through Wednesday, and to couple this with the best show of autumn colors in a very long time makes it, well, just great to be alive up here in the mountains and Hilltowns outside of Albany, New York.
I asked my old friend, Mr. Google, exactly where that phrase, Indian Summer, comes from. Turns out, it comes from right here, New England, and not that long ago, late 18th Century. We all know what it is, but no one really knows how it got its name.
One thing for sure, it is not a derogatory term; it is a universally positive term used to describe sort of an unexpected few days of really nice warm, dry weather that usually occurs after the first frost or freeze.
At any rate, just about everybody had a favorite place to view this terrific show. In fact, just looking out the window at Gibby’s Diner was just as spectacular an autumn view as you will find anywhere.
People pay money to go on a bus tour through areas like our Hilltowns. We are so fortunate to live here. It’s our backyard, and we don't have to spend money to see it!
Part of what contributes to the beauty of just driving along our roads is the fact that they are mostly clean of litter by the side of the road.
Regular readers of the OMOTM column in this paper will recall a short series where the volunteer fire departments and rescue squads are so necessary and are always looking for volunteers to help them help their communities. One of those organizations, the Kiwanis Club of the Helderbergs, does many, many projects in and for the betterment of our communities.
I recently joined the club, and found that several members of the OMOTM are active in this Kiwanis Club as well. One of the projects that we do is to pick up the litter alongside a particular stretch of road.
In our case, this stretch is about two-and-a-half to three miles long. So about 10 of us met last week to pick up the litter. Nine out of 10 of us arrived with a wonderful device called a grabber.
This device allows somewhat older folks to pick up stuff without having to bend over each time to grab or pick up a McDonald’s food wrapper that accidentally flew out of a car window and landed by the side of the road.
Notice that I said nine out of 10? Would you care to guess who the 10th person was? I'll give you a hint, he “recently joined the club.”
So there I was, feeling somewhat naked without a grabber, not naked/nude, like the good folks who went for a stroll over at Howe Caverns a couple of weeks ago — I wrote about that, you can look it up. At any rate, off I went to my assigned section of road thinking how hard can this be? There's not too much stuff to pick up.
Let me tell you something, when you really only bend over to put on your shoes in the morning and then once more to take them off at night — it is now five days later and I can still feel each and every time (much, much than two times) I bent down to pick something up!
I was at the OMOTM breakfast this morning and was telling my tale of woe and I started out at each table by asking the question, “Do you know what a grabber is?” Not only did everybody know what it was, but nearly all of them owned one or more!
No one had any sympathy for me. One thing I know for sure, I hope we, at the Kiwanis Club, get a new member who wants to help pick up litter by the side of the road. Do you think I’m going to tell them about the grabber? Not a chance!
On the other hand, it sure did make me feel good to be a part of a volunteer organization, Kiwanis, in this case, that is doing its best to make a positive impact on the people and community where we live, work, and play.
I also felt a little sad that so much litter and stuff accidently flies out of the car window while driving along. I guess the good news is that my fellow volunteers said this fall there was much less litter to pick up. Maybe we are winning.
Next week, I get to write about some of the other topics heard ’round the room, like hunting, pictures of serious fish that were caught over the weekend, the World Series, sports cars, and where were Harold and Wally Guest? So think of them as you read the attendance for this week. Those who were here; Ed Goff, George Washburn, Wm Lichliter, Frank A. Fuss, Ted Feurer, Wyne Gaul, Frank Dees, Jay Williams, Russ Pokorny, Jim Gardner, John R. Williams, Marty Herzog, Jake “Ditto” Herzog, Mark Traver, Glenn Patterson, Joe Rake, Ken Parkes, Roland Tozer, Lou Schenck, Warren Willsey, Jack Norray Dick Dexter, Gerry Cross John Jazz, John Dab, Paul Guiton, Herb Bahrmann, Elwood Vanderbilt, Bob Donnelly, Dave Hodgetts, and me.
MIDDLEBURGH — It does feel more normal to be writing the OMOTM column on Tuesday rather than Friday afternoon. What a gorgeous Tuesday morning, after some valley fog burned off, crisp, blue sky and just about peak color. Now we see some tour buses full of people coming to see the beautiful part of the country we live in.
Now, if we could just get them to come back after one of our two foot nor’easter snowstorms and help dig us out. Probably not going to happen.
Some attrition is starting to take its toll on our attendance. I usually ride with three other OFs in the car with me; Tuesday, I was all by myself. I’ll get one of those riders back in a couple of weeks as he is on vacation now.
The 30 or so OMOTM who gathered at Mrs K’s Kitchen in Middleburgh wanted to know why the OMOTM column was so late. They had only received the email with the column on Sunday. There are a few OFs who don’t have a computer and so were blissfully unaware of all the trials and tribulations of being hacked again and the chain reaction of events that causes.
Part of that discussion led to the bill I was going to get for having my laptop rescued from “lock up.” Usually that situation means that the hacker people want money to unlock your computer and I’m not so sure they ever really do unlock it.
Getting bills for services rendered is not a new thing; sometimes we are somewhat surprised at the amount of the bill. An OF at the table had some dental work done the other day. It was not a big deal involving surgery or anything, and it didn’t take too long. He got the invoice and took a somewhat deeper breath and paid the bill.
Now don’t get me wrong or write letters to the editor. I was in business for my whole working career. Think of the length of time in college a young student has spent learning to become a dentist and be able to put “DDS” after his or her name.
The OMOTM can remember the old-fashioned drills they used before the high-speed drills of today were invented. They cost today’s dentists money they don’t have when just starting out after those years in college.
How about all those tools they use to do the work on our teeth? More money.
How about that special chair we sit in? And the lights, computers, X-rays, office personnel, dental assistant, office rental, payroll, insurance, and on and on. It all adds up. Somebody has to pay those bills.
I am not suggesting that his dentist is worried about his next meal or car payment. It is expensive to be in business. That's why we have insurance. At least some of us have insurance.
As OMOTM, not all of us have adequate dental insurance, and that puts that dental bill in a whole different light. A topic for a different writer writing a whole different kind of article.
I am just trying to make the point: There are usually reasons for the way things are; the OMOTM know that. We have been there and we have done that. We do have to remember that you can’t have today’s services at yesterday’s prices.
Special guest
We did have a special guest join us for breakfast who knows all too well about deadlines missed or being late. (Just how many times can that dog eat your homework/column?)
Our guest was none other than Jim Gardner, past owner for many years and publisher emeritus of The Altamont Enterprise.Why was he here?
Was he sent to check up on me? Is he going to report me? What did I do wrong? Why am I sweating and stammering? I was only three days late with my column last week (and still got it in before my deadline).
After being introduced to Mr. James E. Gardner, I found him to be a nice guy who clearly was enjoying his breakfast with good friends, and was not coming after me. Relieved, my appetite returned and I went back to my seat and enjoyed my breakfast as well.
Heat resistant
As we all know, the OMOTM have a competitive streak a mile wide in them, so it should be to no one’s surprise that the latest contest is to see which OF will last the longest against Mother Nature and her relentless annual attack on warmth.
Needless to say, long pants, flannel shirts, maybe even a wool sock or two are kind of normal attire for at least the start of the day. I went around the tables and asked who had turned on their heating system yet. No one! All 30 members present, not one had succumbed to the chilly mornings of Mother Nature.
Stay tuned; I know how this is going to end. It will end approximately 30 seconds after Mrs. OMOTM says she is cold, and Mr. OMOTM will be so happy to turn the heat on, secure in the knowledge that, although he lost again to Mother Nature, he once again out lasted Mrs. OMOTM by the 30 seconds or so it took him to cross the room and turn on the heat.
It doesn't take much to make an OF happy, heat and warmth is one of those things (and a warm and happy Mrs. OMOTM is another one of those things).
After a nice hot breakfast, the OMOTM who departed Mrs K’s were; Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Ed Goff, Roger Shafer, Wm Lichliter, Pete Whitbeck, Mark Traver, Joe Rack, Ken Parks, Jake Lederman, Ted Feurer, Wayne Gaul, Michael Kruzinski, George Wasburn, Frank Dees, Jim Gardner, Russ Pokorny, Warren Willsey, Jake Herzog, Lou Schenck, Gerry Cross, Duncan Bellinger, Jack Norray, Herb Bahrmann, Bob Donnelly, Alan Defazio, Paul Guiton, John Dab, and me.
As I sit down to write this week’s OMOTM column, I must tell you about a few things going on with your scribe this week. Not the least of which concerns my computer. I was hacked again.
I was in the middle of writing an email to my sister on Sunday when suddenly my computer informed me that it was locked up and I should call the number provided (that number was supposed to go directly to a special Windows department that deals with just this sort of thing and they would help me).
The message went on to tell me not to turn off my computer etc., etc. Well, I’ve been here before, as most of you know, so of course I shut it down without touching or doing anything. It being Sunday, I went about my usual business while waiting for the football games to start.
I called my computer fix-it company on Monday and they came, and took my laptop away. I wasn’t too worried about writing the column as I had plenty of time. Surely I would have my laptop back in time to write the column.
If I didn’t get it back in time, I could always fire up the old PC that my wife and I built nearly 20 years ago.
So here I am, on Friday morning, typing away on that old PC after hooking up the keyboard, mouse, and monitor. The hardest part was remembering the old password and the really hard part is trying to remember how to navigate around the 20-year-old software!
All I need to do is get to the word processor and type the column, then I’ll be ready to scan the column to the laptop when I get it back and send it to The Altamont Enterprise before my deadline. At least that is the plan right now.
At some point, something in this PC is going to fail — hardware, software, something! Nothing is supported anymore, not for at least 15 years. Just holding my breath and typing as fast as I can.
Bug explosion
At any rate, the OMOTM arrived on time at the Middleburgh Diner and your scribe was hoping the scribe emeritus would be there, and he was!
He had emailed me regarding the “Bug” (DoodleBug) that they had on his farm. It had started out its life as a nice family car manufactured by a company called Hupmobile.
When the time came, many years later and having gone through the many different stages in the life cycle of all family cars that lived on the farm up here in the Hilltowns, it became a “Bug.”
In the email to me, the scribe emeritus ended by saying it blew up on the road right in front of their driveway and, being made of mostly wood, it burned up. I couldn’t wait to ask the scribe what he meant by “It exploded.”
He explained to me and the rest of the table that there had been an issue with the original gas delivery system after it became a “Bug.” So there was a homemade system involving a can that held the gas, a small hole in the bottom of the can, and a line to carry the gas to the engine.
It all worked just fine, until it didn’t.
The scribe emeritus sure had a twinkle in his eye and a smile as he told us this memory of one of their “Bugs.” The other OFs at the table? They knew exactly what that memory was all about, and how the homemade gas tank worked and why, and they were not surprised at the rather sudden and spectacular demise of that Hupmobile/Bug.
While talking about the old cars like the Hupmobile, the conversation now turned to the 1950s and 1960s. We were asked to remember back to when it was a big deal when the new models would arrive at the car dealers.
Sometimes the dealers would hide the new cars or cover them up so they could have a big show when they first revealed them to the public. It was a big deal when we could see what the new models looked like and later, a lot of time was wasted in school as we would be looking out the windows waiting to see that new Ford or ’57 Chevy drive past.
Smorgasbord of topics
The morning conversations were not all limited to cars and Bugs. How about baseball and those Amazing Mets? They made the playoffs! On the last day, at the end of the game. Maybe we will have another subway series where they will lose to the New York Yankees in seven games.
Diets and weight loss were discussed at one of the tables. One OF said he had a grandson who was a vegan who runs ultra-marathons, which instantly prompted one OF (who is notorious for being politically incorrect) to tell us where the word “vegetarian” came from. The OF said it is an old Indian word meaning “Bad Hunter”
With that dubious bit of attempted humor let see who made it to breakfast on Oct. 1 at the Middleburgh Diner: Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Ed Goff, Wm Lichliter, George Washburn, Frank Fuss, Pete Whitbeck, Roland Tozer, Jim Austin, Frank Dees, Jake Herzog, Jack Norray, Dick Dexter, Gerry Cross, Warren Willsey, Russ Pokorny, John Williams (scribe emeritus), John Jaz, Lou Schenck, Herb Bahrmann, and me.
DUANESBURG — This Tuesday, Sept. 25, we gathered at Chris’s Chuck Wagon Diner in Duanesburg. That is kind of confusing to some of us because right across Route 20 is the Princetown Evangelical Presbyterian Church. Maybe Route 20 is the boundary between Princetown and Duanesburg.
If you think that is a little confusing, how about Gibby’s Diner, also in Duanesburg, or is it in Quaker Street, just next down the street on the Duanesburg Road (Route 7) from the Quaker Street Volunteer Fire Department?
Not a problem; the OMOTM know where the good food is and we never make a mistake as to where we are supposed to be.
When we entered The Chuck Wagon, we were greeted with our usual cups of coffee. Sometimes the coffee arrives at our seats before we do.
Ron knows where we sit because we are creatures of habit and pretty much sit at the same table, in the same chair, every time. At any rate, this week, we were also greeted with a couple of birthday cards to sign.
Another young man is celebrating his birthday! This particular young man was probably in the Army when I was born, and I am 81 years old.
Elwood Vanderbilt has had “Happy Birthday” sung to him 97 times, but never as poorly sung as what occurred this time! The OMOTM are a lot of things, and we do many of them very well. Singing, however, is not one of them. We are awful.
Number one, we can’t find the right note with both hands; number two, we don't even start at the same time. No, this is not a 30-part harmony, and for those who can find the right note, it is hard to sing it on key with a mouth full of delicious pancakes.
But three things in our favor: one, we are enthusiastic; two, we know the words (we all have heard them just a few times); and we are sincerely happy for one of our own. Happy birthday, Elwood!
In addition to all that, Chris, the owner, and Ron, the coffee man, and the rest of the crew at the Chuck Wagon provided us with a birthday cake to help with our celebration. Of course, we were alone at the time because all the regular customers at the Wagon fled in terror when we started to sing.
One of our OFs, when asked about his singing abilities, replied that he must have “missed school the day they taught singing!”
Raising cane
We did welcome back another one of our own, who just had a hip-replacement operation and is looking good. In fact, he was insisting that his cane was, in fact, really the hind leg bone of an ancient and now extinct sub group directly related to today's llamas.
He claims he found this old leg bone while on safari in Africa, which is a good trick since llamas are found in South America. That’s OK, because this particular OF is a politician and sometimes is known to mix up his tall tales.
Besides that, his cane looked a lot more like the bone from the right front leg of an alpaca that died of old age from a ranch in Colorado in the 1700s.
Doodlebugs
Last week, we talked about “doodlebugs” — what they were, why they were, how they were made and by whom. Well, that story sort of continued down a couple of different paths this week.
To refresh last week’s information about what they were: They were homemade farm tractors made from just about anything that ran with a combustion engine. Regular farm tractors were in short supply so the farmers took any old car and modified the heck out of it and created a serviceable farm tractor.
That’s the short version of what they were, who made them, and why.
This week, some stories about some of the fun and games that developed around these doodlebugs were passed around. They indeed were used for the purpose they were made for, and did a good job of it.
Just about every OMOTM who grew up on the family farm here in the Hilltowns had a doodlebug or knew all about them. Regular readers of this column know full well that this scribe didn’t grow up on a farm here in the Hilltowns and therefore certainly didn’t know anything about a doodlebug.
As y’all also know, he has a tendency to ask his friend, Mr. Google, about nearly anything. So he did.
The first thing he found out is that there is a bug that, when it crawls around, leaves a trail behind it that, when observed, looks pretty much like someone’s doodles. Thus, the doodlebug.
This wasn’t what this scribe was expecting and he dug a little deeper and found the slang version of the doodlebug described last week. OK, that was better. This week brought forth some tales of some of the other uses and experiences having to do with the bug.
One of these was really just an extension of one of the jobs on the farm that the doodlebugs did, and that was pulling or carrying stuff from here to there. Not too surprising, somebody would say that his bug was faster, or stronger, or whatever, so naturally some friendly competition was initiated, complete with rules and everything.
How much weight could your doodlebug drag? Your front wheels couldn’t lift off the ground; you could only go fast; etc. Wintertime sports involving ice and snow, these men knew how to work hard and they knew how to play hard as well.
Not much has changed, except there are not many doodlebugs around anymore, except for the kind that leaves a trail behind, like a doodle.
Time to doodle over to the attendance list for this week: Wally Guest, Harold Guest, George Washburn, Pete Whitbeck, Jim Austin, Frank A. Fuss, Wm Lichliter, Wayne Gaul, Ted Feurer, Marty Herzog, J. Darrah, Jake Herzog, Roger Shafer, Mark Traver, Joe Rack, Warren Willsey, Russell Pokorny, Gerry Chartier, Paul Guiton, Rev. Jay Francis, Lou Schenck, John Dab, Jack Norray, Dick Dexter, John Jaz, Gerry Cross, Elwood Vanderbilt, Bob Donnelly, Dave Hodgetts, Herb Bahrmann, and me.
DELANSON — In spite of the fantastic run of great weather we all have been enjoying lately, there are signs that are hard to miss about what time of the year this is.
It is dark when I get up in the morning; in fact it was dark as I drove to Gibby's Diner on Sept. 17 to meet with my fellow OMOTM for breakfast. The sunrise on Tuesday occurred at 6:30 a.m., sunset will be at 7:02 p.m.
The leaves are starting to turn and some are ready to fall. Vacations are over, and school buses are everywhere.
The lakes are getting quiet. Many boats have been pulled out and some docks have been pulled out in preparation for, and in anticipation of, end-of-season work to close down the camps on the area lakes.
It is not like the rush of the springtime when we can’t wait for the summer season to start. This is a much slower time; some may even call it the annual resistance to face the inevitable.
These resistance fighters will point to the 80-degree bright sunny days we have had and say, “See? Summer is not over! This is the best part of the year!”
OK, OK, I get it, but the school buses are still running, high school football games are being played, college and pro football games dominate the weekend TV. It is still dark when we wake up and it gets dark shortly after we get home from work.
I think the new drop-dead time to acknowledge Yogi Berra’s famous line from last week, “It ain't over till it’s over,” is probably Oct. 14, Columbus Day. Three weeks after that is when Daylight Savings Time ends, a hard freeze can happen anytime, and our peak foliage is starting to fade.
From fruit flies
To DoodleBugs
One of the tables on Tuesday got to talking about fruit flies. An OF asked out of the clear blue, “How long do fruit flies live?”
Instantly, another OF fired back an answer, “Forty-two days.”
This was accepted and a further discussion followed as to how to get rid of them and where do they come from. Your scribe, who is a curious sort, checked Google when he got home about the life span of the fruit fly.
Sure enough, he found out that life span was 40 to 50 days, depending on several factors, so 42 days was an absolutely correct answer!
From fruit flies, the conversation moved naturally to DoodleBugs.
Again, I had to check with my friend, Mr. Google. I found out that DoodleBug is a slang name for a homemade tractor during World War II when tractors were in short supply.
Larry Kosilla of Autoweek says, “The DoodleBugs of the 1940s were typically made from Model As or Model Ts. Conversion kits were $300 back then so farmers just did it themselves.”
Does that frame of mind or attitude sound familiar? Do you think the OMOTM, when young, would watch their fathers “just do it themselves?” You better believe they did.
So, moving ahead a generation, to the current OMOTM, they, too, built their version of a DoodleBug. These young men searched out the junkyards, or “boneyards” as some were called.
One OF at the table recounted that they would get permission to search around the yard until they found an old car that still ran, paid the junkyard $25, and drove it on the back roads until they met some friends and then towed the junker home and went to work. Presto, one DoodleBug was born!
Junkyards
This led to a general discussion of old and current junk yards in the area. Turns out just about all of us have used the junkyards to find that old car part we need.
In the old days, the OFs said you would bring your own tools, find what you needed, remove it, and bring it to the junkyard owner, pay for it, and be on your way.
Another OF wanted to know where he might find a certain radiator, just in CASE, he said. When asked about the word CASE, he said it stood for “Couldn’t Afford Something Else.”
Another OF said he knew of a place but two of you better go to it, one to stay with the car, or at least lock your car if you were alone. About this time, another OF came to the table with a suggestion of yet another boneyard our OF might want to consider.
You just never know who is listening to which conversation when you are having breakfast with the OMOTM. We do talk sort of loud, because none of us can hear worth a damn.
Well, from resisting the passing of the seasons, to fruit flies, to DoodleBugs, to boneyards, the time flew by and another great Tuesday breakfast was had by all of us at Gibby's Diner. Those who were there included Frank A. Fuss, Pete Whitbeck, George Washburn, Michael Kruzinski, Ted Feurer, Wayne Gaul, Jake Lederman, Wm Lichliter, Jake Herzog, Ken Parks, Joe Rack, Glenn Patterson, Mark Traver, Gerry Chartier, Marty Herzog, Warren Willsey, Roger Shafer, John Williams Lou Schenck, John Jaz, Jack Norray, Dick Dexter, Gerry Cross, John Dab, Paul Guiton, Elwood Vanderbuilt, Dave Hodgetts, and me.
MIDDLEBURGH — It’s after Labor Day, and the early morning temperature is in the 50s, the lake water is much warmer than the air, fog lays in the valleys, some leaves are falling. School buses are rolling in large numbers, and what’s that in our rear-view mirror?
Summer.
I’ve been warning you for the past two weeks that this was coming; now we will just wait for a frost and then we can settle in for what we hope will be a nice long Indian Summer. With any luck, it will be a month or more before that first frost happens.
The average first frost is Oct. 3 — I looked it up. I am sure that we have some more 80-degree days left to enjoy. I looked that up too; the last 80-degree day is a month later, on Nov 2.
Enough of the weather. The OMOTM gathered this fine crisp morning, Sept. 3, at Mrs. K’s Kitchen in Middleburgh.
Soon our ranks will thin out a little as a few of the OFs depart for warmer parts of the country. But not yet.
One of life’s puzzles is the huge number of birthdays in the month of September. One such birthday, a very special one, takes place this week; it is number 90 for Jack Norray! Congratulations to Jack — Happy Birthday!
Muscle car
One of our OFs showed up on Tuesday in his 1958 Pontiac Catalina, which was parked directly across the street so we all could see it. Remember a couple weeks ago when I wrote about some of the OFs talking about how the cars of today all sort of looked the same?
Well, just about every one of us knew that this car was a late ’50s Pontiac, and most of those knew it was a Catalina somewhere close to a ’58.
It had chrome, it had two colors, and it was a picture-perfect muscle car. We all knew that from across the street! I hope the OF brings it next week, ’cause I’ll take the time to check it out.
If all the OFs who have classic cars, and motorcycles, all brought them to the same breakfast, from the Model T to the muscle cars, it would be quite a sight.
Nude vicissitude
Last week, an OF brought an article he noticed in the Times Union newspaper to this scribe’s attention. Last week, the scribe didn’t have room in his column to give it the proper attention it deserves.
But this is a new week and this is time sensitive, so time is of the essence and the scribe had to figure out how to properly write about this rather sad subject concerning the demise of a six-year tradition at the popular tourist attraction, Howe Caverns, while not offending some readers of The Altamont Enterprise.
The scribe is not at all worried about offending the OFs because, as we all know, they are unoffendable (that’s one of the rules to become an OMOTM; I believe it is # 7.) We get mad, we get upset, we get angry, but it is nearly impossible to offend us.
In any event, here goes. The lead headlines went like this, “Naked in a Cave to Bare All One Last Time” and “Howe Caverns to strip event out of its annual lineup.”
(Newspaper people just cannot resist writing headlines like that! But not The Altamont Enterprise! They would never fall for such an easy play on words. Absolutely not! They would never use the word strip. They would use words like “discontinue” or “cancel.”)
The article goes on to say it is a self-guided tour in which attendees stroll au naturel through the cavern — and that this all started on July 14, 2018, on National Nude Day. Who knew?
I’ll tell you who knew: Each year about 250 to 300 people stroll along for about 1.25 miles in 50- to 55-degree temperatures; that’s who knew.
Precautions are in place to ensure privacy. First, and foremost, the cave offers an extra layer of privacy because all this takes place 156 feet underground in the cave. You gotta have a ticket; there are no other people wandering around except maybe a stray bat.
A keyboardist will play music, and hot chocolate and cookies are provided halfway through the stroll and a towel (I hope it is hot!) is provided to sit on if you take the boat ride.
I don’t know about anybody else, and I love hot chocolate and cookies, but 50 to 55 degrees gets pretty cold for this OF in a very short amount of time! A lot less time than it takes for a 1.25 mile stroll au naturel.
It would take at least one-and-a half days for this OF to stroll that far! I’m a slow stroller, and the colder I get, the slower I stroll. Anyway, this is it. It’s all over after Sept. 28. A sad day for those of us who enjoy a good cup of hot chocolate and cookies.
Those of us making plans for the 28th while enjoying breakfast at Mrs. K’s included, Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Ed Goff, Wm Lichliter, Pete Whitbeck, George Washburn, Kevin McDonald, Gary Schultz, Jim Austin, Mark Traver, Glenn Patterson, Joe Rack, Ken Parks, Jake Herzog, Roland Tozer, Gerry Chartier, Marty Herzog, Frank Dees, Ted Feurer, Wayne Gaul, Jake Lederman, Russ Pokorny, Warren Willsey, Alan Defazio, Lou Schenck, Herb Bahrmann, Gerry Cross, Jack Norray, Dick Dexter, John Dab, Paul Guiton, Bob Donnelly, Elwood Vanderbilt, Dave Hodgetts, Dave Wood, and me.
MIDDLEBURGH — The Middleburgh Diner was the meeting spot for this week’s edition of the OMOTM breakfast. In a continuation of last week’s column with regards to the end of the traditional summer, the OF’s were heard to be talking about the speed of the passing of yet another summer.
It really does seem as though the Memorial Day Parade was just yesterday. Many colleges and some high schools are already open, and the rest will open in one week. This weekend is Labor Day weekend for goodness sake!
Vacations really are winding down and our visiting relatives and friends are heading home, except for one last party with family and friends over the weekend to celebrate the end of a great summer. September looms before us with its own bucket list of things that must be done, or some things that have been put off until after the fun of summer is over which now must be done.
A proud moment
On Sept. 12, a very important event, and a very proud moment for the family of an Old Man Of The Mountain, Frank Dees, will occur. Frank’s older brother, First Lieutenant Timothy Roy Dees, was severely wounded while fighting in battle and a year later, to the day, after much rehab, he received his honorable military discharge.
There is an organization that honors a group of these men and women from their geographic area, by providing an expense-paid flight to Washington, D.C., then taking them on a tour of the Vietnam Wall, Korean War Memorial, World War II Memorial, Navy, Air Force, Lincoln, and Iwo Jima memorials, as well as the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknowns, all this and more, before heading back to the plane for the flight home.
While in the service, all soldiers always looked forward to “mail call.” In that spirit, the OMOTM of the Hilltowns around Albany, New York would like our member, OF Frank, to make sure that his older brother Tim gets this column along with our heartfelt thanks for Tim’s service to his country.
Many of the OMOTM also served, or have family members who served, many suffering wounds and some even paid the ultimate sacrifice. The Old Men of the Mountain know all about this, they lived it, and they appreciate what the Dees family will be feeling on Sept. 12.
The real deal
Also heard and seen on Tuesday morning, Aug. 27, was a show-and-tell discussion about a local man and friend of one of our OFs who makes cannons! Our OF had several pictures of some of the cannons his friend has made.
He also makes the two-wheeled trailers to mount the cannons on.
It all looked exactly like what I see in old photographs from the Civil War or on the ships of that era. Those cannons, with the cannons mounted on them, were towed behind horses when the armies moved to the next battlefield.
And these cannons work! They are the real deal. They are full size, not toys . He even makes the cannon balls! All by himself.
No big factory here, just him and his small shop. Fascinating. You just don't know what you will find up here in the Hilltowns.
Memory Lane
Your current scribe has mentioned before that, on occasion, he will dig back in the archives and see what was going on way back when. So here we are.
Looking back with John Williams, Scribe Emeritus for the OMOTM:
This part of John’s column on March 12, 1998 dealt with the wives’ response to a question posed to them by the Old Men as to why they were not joining them for breakfast:
“We can't afford it.”
“I don't get that much of a kick out of waitresses. They don’t sit on my lap.”
“Why would I want to go out with a lot of old women and talk about old times?”
“That’s my day to go shopping without him following me around saying ‘Aren't you done yet?’ or ‘Do we need that?’”
“Who's going to run the business? He spends more in a week than we make in a month.”
“That's my morning to sleep late. I don’t have to get his breakfast.”
“I use that day to pick up and put away what he has dragged out all week.”
The Old Men decided they better let well enough alone.
John’s list of members present that morning in March in 1998, included Herbie Wolford (Founding Father), Mike Willsey, John Williams, Gerd Remmers, Myron Filkins, Harold Murphy, Ivan Baker (Founding Father), and George Washburn. They all met at the Alley Cat Diner in Schoharie. (Yesterday’s Alley Cat Diner is today’s Your Way Café, located in the same place.)
And that’s it for this week’s column from the Middleburgh Diner. Those enjoying breakfast on this fine morning in August 2024 were Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Ed Goff, Wm Lichliter, George Washburn and John Williams (both of whom were here today and on March 12, 1998), Miner Stevens, Gary Schultz, Roland Tozer, Bradley and Bruce and Brian McLaughlin who were family guests of Miner Stevens, (welcome guys), Marty Herzog, Jake Herzog, Waren Willsey, Frank Dees, Jack Norray, Gerry Cross, Dick Dexter, Lou Schenck, John Jaz, and me.
DELANSON — Tuesday morning, Aug. 13, had the feel of a little coolness in the air, plus the fact that the thermometer on the porch was reading less than 60 degrees. OK, long pants it is, maybe even a long-sleeved shirt
When we got to Gibby's Diner and were standing in the parking lot waiting for the doors to open at 7 a.m., the long pants and long-sleeved shirts easily outnumbered the short pants and short-sleeved shirts.
While still outside in the parking lot, one OF was seen approaching another OF and inquiring about what was written on his T-shirt. The T-shirt in question read this way, “There's no Place Like So & So’s Cabin, East Berne”
The questioning OF said he has lived in East Berne forever and has never heard of “So & So’s Cabin” and he asked what and where it was. The OF wearing the T-shirt laughed and promptly told him, “That’s my house; it's where I live.” And so starts another OMOTM breakfast.
Many questions and concerns regarding the scribe’s Boot and foot were expressed. No more jokes. The scribe reported that, one week later, the Boot was obviously gone and so was the pain.
The scribe did hear in the background some OF mutter, “Wait until he gets stomach ulcers.” The scribe didn't need to hear that.
Electric blankets
Along with the cool morning came a discussion about electric blankets. That really comes as no surprise although it is a bit early to be talking about it.
It is also no surprise that it is also part of the age-old, forever ongoing battle of the sexes. Too hot vs. too cold, and vice versa. No, I'm not going to go there in this column, or any other column for that matter.
Just be yourself
Another comment heard in passing at one of the tables was, “Waste time productively.”
To many of us OMOTM, these three words just don’t belong together in the same sentence. It is just flat-out a contradiction of terms.
Back in the 1930s and ’40s, there was a popular author and lecturer who talked and wrote about salesmanship, public speaking, self improvement, interpersonal skills, and corporate training.
Something tells me that the OMOTM didn’t have any of those topics on their minds when they were getting up at 4 a.m. to go milk the cows. A hot cup of coffee in their hands as they walked to the barn on that cold winter morning in the 1930s and ’40s, thinking about the work that lay ahead of them that day is what was occupying their minds.
Remember, this was the 1930s, it was the Depression and the world would be in a war in just a few years. Tough times like those do not leave too much time for thoughts like wasting time productively.
This column has talked about the “The Greatest Generation” before. They were the generation, who, like their forefathers, just went to work and got the job done.
They were the “Doers.” They saw what needed to be done, and did it.
“Waste time productively?” Wasting time was wasting time; it was not being productive.
The Old Men of the Mountain had little patience with people who wasted their time. They were too busy working and getting calluses on their hands.
Your current scribe is not suggesting that getting involved in an educational program that you like, or that you need, in order to make your life better for yourself and your children is a bad thing; it isn't. It is a good thing.
It is a natural thing. Even if it just results in allowing you a couple of hours a day to relax, to calm down, to read a book, or like our own Scribe Emeritus, John Williams, those calloused hands can now pick up a paint brush and create a picture.
All I'm suggesting is, just because you listen to someone else’s theory or thoughts on how to become a salesman, or public speaker, or how to be a successful farmer, doesn't make it happen.
Just because someone else says you would be great at doing this or that, but you just do not want to do this or that, you, with your fabulous hands, you can really make a piano sing, or paint a picture, or carry on the family farm — then stop trying to become someone you are not, and start making that piano sing or paint that picture!
So, for some, learning which end of a screwdriver to pick up is a complete waste of time. It is not productive.
For others, it is absolutely the most productive use of their time. It is what they want to do.
We all are what we are, and someone else really should not try to change us into something else altogether. Like what Texas Governor Ann Richards once said, “Well, you can put lipstick on a hog and call it Monique, but it is still a pig.”
We are what we are. I am not saying we are pigs; what I am saying is: Just be yourself.
Just because we take a course on farming or whatever doesn’t make us a farmer or whatever, and certainly does not put calluses on our hands. Only doing the work, whatever that work is, or walking the walk, will do that.
Ask any Old Man of the Mountain; he will tell you that. He will also tell you that wasting time is wasting time. It is not productive.
Among those being productive this morning at Gibby's Diner were: Wally Guest, Harold Guest, Jim Austin, Gary Schultz, Ed Goff, George Washburn, Wm Lichliter, Pete Whitbeck, Peter T. Parisi, Gerry Chartier, Frank Dees, Frank A. Fuss, Jake Herzog, Glenn Patterson, Mark Traver, Joe Rack, Lou Schenck, John Williams, Paul Goiton, John Dab, Dave Hodgetts, Bob Donnelly, Jack Norray, Dick Dexter, John Jaz, and me.