DELANSON — OK, it is summertime now. It was dry, it was sunny, it was humid, and it was hot! Well into the 90s even up here in the mountains.
The OMOTM arrived at Gibby’s Diner on time on June 24, which for us is whenever we get there. Waking up these days is not a problem as the sun starts to come through the east-facing windows around 5:15 a.m. Maybe a little earlier if you live on the east side of the mountaintop, or a little later if you are on the farm down in the valley.
Regardless, it was a beautiful morning and the fact it was exactly six months until Christmas Eve did not enter a single OF’s mind, except mine, as I have to write the date for each column. In the interest of full disclosure, that thought left my mind even before I finished typing it.
I am sure all the summer camps are now fully open, the docks are in, and the boats are securely tied up. The inner tubes have been patched and now hold air as do all the floats, big and little.
Along with the hot weather’s arrival, this signals a corresponding rise in the water temperature on all the lakes and ponds throughout the Hilltowns. Gone are the frigid water temps.
We, the OMOTM, no longer have to rely on watching to see if the little kids are in swimming as an indication of acceptable water temperatures. It’s a well-known fact that those kids do not let a little thing like cold water get in the way of a good time in the water! During the last couple of days, even the dogs were spending more time in the water than out of it.
Remember when we could look at our kids’ lips and, if they were blue and they were shaking all over, we could then tell them to get out of the water and warm up for a while. If we used our grown-up parent’s tone of voice, they would reluctantly get out of the water for a minute or two.
Now, as the OMOTM, we look at our own fingertips and if, after an hour or more of floating around, they are wrinkly and sort of puckered up, we start to think of climbing on a rubber float, drying out a little while enjoying an ice tea or some other beverage that is as “Cold as the Rocky Mountains” as we watch those same little kids expend more energy than they can possibly contain in those bodies.
They absolutely never run out of energy! Unless you ask them to mow the lawn or something.
Dietz Massacre
Not only did the talk around the tables deal with the fine weather but, as usual, it also touched upon many completely different subjects, including Indian raids during the Revolutionary War times in the local Hilltowns and the Schoharie Valley.
One of these OFs told of a massacre known locally as the Deitz Family Massacre just south of today’s town of Berne along the Switzkill Road.
Much of what I quote here is from an article published in The Altamont Enterprise in 1965 and from additional information supplied by The Enterprise with regards to the attack on, and murder of, the Dietz family and supporting background information of the times.
The Schoharie Valley was an important source of grain and farm produce and was a major supplier of these products to George Washington and the Continental Army during the Revolutionary War. As such, it was often called the breadbasket of the war. Or at least one of them. The British knew all about the Schoharie Valley and its ability to supply food to George Washington and his army.
To quote from my old friend Mr. Google, “Beaver Dam is a historical area within the town of Berne in Albany County, New York. It was originally known as Beaver Dam due to the presence of a large beaver dam near the confluence of the Switzkill and Foxenkill creeks. The area later became part of the Town of Berne when it was formed in 1795.”
The late Mr. A. B. Gregg, long-time Guilderland town historian, wrote an article published in The Altamont Enterprise in the 1960s, that tells of the Dietz Family Massacre in 1781. “During the Revolutionary War, the Beaver Dam saw little action. The major threat would have been from the west where the British and their Indian allies repeatedly attacked the communities along the Mohawk Valley.”
The article goes on to tell the story that on Sept. 1, 1781, the Dietz farm was attacked by Indians led by a British soldier. Captain Dietz was taken captive and forced to witness the murder of his parents, his wife and four children, and a Scottish servant girl, while his farm was burned.
The reason for choosing the Dietz family as the target for the massacre was obvious: It was to terrorize the local populace. If the family of the captain of the local militia was not safe, no one was safe.
I took a drive today through the area and found a marker near the spot where this happened, put there by the Daughters of the American Revolution. It can’t be much more than five or six miles, as the crow flies, from my home in East Berne.
Hard to believe that such a terrible thing happened right here in our backyard. That area is where you want to take a “Sunday drive,” because it is beautiful and peaceful. Right out of a Norman Rockwell painting.
Again, it is amazing the conversations that go on and the knowledge that is present at an OMOTM breakfast, and I only get to overhear some of it.
Those present at Gibby’s Diner were: Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Michael Kruzinski, Wm Lichliter, George Washburn, Pete Whitbeck, Frank Dees, Ted Feurer, Wayne Gaul, Russ Pokorny, Warren Willsey, Frank A. Fuss, Jim Austin, Robert Schanz, Roger Shafer, Paster Jay Francis, Ken Parks, Mark Traver, Joe Rack, Glenn Patterson, Lou Schenck, Marty Herzog, John Jaz, Dick Dexter, Gerry Cross, John Dab, Paul Guiton, Elwood Vanderbilt, Alan DeFazio, Bob Donnelly, Dave Hodgetts, and me.
SCHOHARIE — Some days are just harder to wake up to than others. Tuesday, June 17, was one of those days for the OMOTM.
Maybe it was the gray, 55-degree, misty morning with the rest of the day not looking much better. As we made our way to the Your Way Café in Schoharie, we may have been thinking about the fine day we all enjoyed the Sunday before. It was Father's Day!
It was a day for families gathering together. The OMOTM don't really need a special day in order to enjoy getting together with their grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
The weather was dry and mid-70s, maybe a little cloudy, but that was OK; we didn't need to get sunburned anyway. It was just fun to welcome the family into our homes; anticipation can be half the fun. Is the barbecue grill ready to go? Do we have enough charcoal or is the liquid-propane tank topped off?
Sometimes some of the family members bring a favorite dish that all of us look forward to each year along with the hamburgers and hot dogs and potato salad. There are definite unwritten rules and customs that are followed regarding who brings what.
Nothing is written down; nobody votes on anything anyway. It all works out just like it always does because the same people always bring the same stuff each year, and it is great!
If the Oldest OF, let’s call him the “OOF,” is lucky, his favorite pie will appear for the millionth year in a row. Most of the time, someone will have to go find this OOF, a man among men, who usually is found on the couch in the family room or maybe in the hammock under the big shade tree, enjoying a nap.
They will wake him up so he can tell everyone for the millionth time that this is his favorite pie. This will cause a younger OF to try to take undue credit for the pie even though all he did was to carry the pie from the car to the kitchen. Everyone knows he doesn’t know how to boil water!
By the way, concerning the rules and regs for Father’s Day festivities, there is, in fact, a select group of individuals who do know all the unwritten rules and regulations, and nobody but nobody messes with them!
Who are these people who have this knowledge? I refer you back to May11: Mother’s Day!
After the paper plates and plastic knives and forks and napkins have been thrown into the trash (no one needs to do dishes on this day), some of these younger OMOTM fathers, many of whom are grandfathers and some of whom are great-grandfathers in their own right, will try and prove their prowess by pitching horseshoes.
This will be a mistake as they learn why the OOFs are not joining them in this game. These OOFs have long since learned they can’t throw a horseshoe anywhere near far enough. That’s why they are over there smiling and shaking their heads and will, under no circumstances, be tempted to pick up a horseshoe.
In keeping with the outdoor sports and the day in general, with picnics and barbecues, a discussion was overheard at one of the tables about going to the ballpark to watch a game. Many of us have fond memories of going to a ball game with our family and absolutely nothing has ever tasted better than a hot dog at the ballpark.
How many of us remember the old Hawkins Stadium in Menands where the Albany Senators played? Or the Albany-Colonie Yankees out by the airport? One of the OFs talked about how much he enjoys going to the Joe Bruno Stadium to watch the Tri-City Valley Cats play a good brand of baseball.
A friend of his and his family went to a Mets game in New York City. They went down by charter bus with the tickets and everything paid for in advance.
He showed pictures of their seats in what, just a few years ago, would have called Uecker seats out in right center field. Not anymore!
He said they had waitresses, couches to relax on (I saw the pictures), and enjoyed a real dinner (four different choices in addition to the aforementioned hot dogs). How times have changed, but the idea of a family going out to the ball park and spending a great afternoon together having fun, remains the same.
Sometimes we forget the simple, really good times we all have shared on our way to the status of OFs.
Some of those good times come in the form of having a Tuesday breakfast at the Your Way Café. Those sharing in the good times were; Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Frank A. Fuss, Ed Goff, Glenn Patterson, Joe Rack, Mark Traver, Miner Stevens, Pete Whitbeck, Robert Schanz, George Washburn, Wm Lichliter, Marty Herzog, Frank Dees, Russ Pokorny, Warren Willsey, Roger Shafer, Gerry Chartier, Herb Bahrmann, John Williams, Dave Wood, Lou Schenck, Gerry Cross, Dick Dexter, John Jaz, Roland Tozer, Elwood Vanderbilt, Dave Hodgetts, Bob Donnelly, Paul Guiton, John Dab, and me.
MIDDLEBURGH — It was back to normal this week as it was my turn to drive the carpool car. So I picked up my Sports Car OF in my Honda CRV and off we went to Mrs. K's Kitchen in Middleburgh while watching the still swollen streams rushing down the mountainsides to the even bigger and more swollen larger streams and rivers
It was a lot more fun last week riding through the mountains in the Mazda RX7 convertible!
Maybe it is time for a change in the carpool rules. How about he drives all the days when the temperature is 60 degrees or above, and the sun is shining with just a few fluffy white clouds which means no rain and I never drive the convertible sports car, for several reasons:
— Reason #1: I don’t own the proper style of hat that should be worn while driving a classic sports car. His wife bought him the perfect hat to wear while driving that car! Maybe the OF I mentioned last week, who picks up the roadkill hats, could keep an eye out for a proper hat for me.;
— Reason #2: I am totally out of shape, or at least my left leg is; it is in no condition to handle the number of times I would be shifting. It would probably cramp up after five minutes and I would be on my crutches for a week; and
— #3 reason? I'd surely embarrass myself by stalling it.
Mowing
With all the rain we have had this spring, it was no surprise that conversations among the OMOTM centered around the negative effects the rain has caused.
Topics like when to mow the lawn quickly turned into a bunch of related discussions involving everything from fertilizer to weed control to how long to let the grass grow to types of lawn mowers.
Remember now, we are not talking about subdivisions with dozens and dozens of houses spaced pretty close to each other that sort of look similar to each other and the lots are all the same size. This is the OMOTM territory.
There are farms here, big old family houses with big yards (lawns are much smaller than your typical yards) and so you don't very often see a wal- behind mower being used on a multi-acre yard here in the Hilltowns, or any place else for that matter.
Even the homes in the towns are substantial and so are their yards — front, back, and side. Not too much weed-killer and feed fertilizer is being used up here on your five acres of “lawn.” You will see lots and lots of rider mowers.
Some of these “mowers” are pretty big and begin to look like small tractors. In fact, many of them do have attachments that will take care of nor’easter snowstorms, prepare the ground for the 3-acre “garden,” and haul that dead tree away.
The discussions also got into electric vs. gas for the smaller, more traditional rider and walk-behind lawnmowers. That started a whole new topic of battery-powered equipment that we all have these days.
I had been complaining about having to push my old, heavy, noisy, gas-powered, self-propelled, walk-behind lawn mower for several years. Yes, a lawn mower.
I live on a quiet little street in a quiet little neighborhood with quiet neighbors close by who are my friends, two or three of them are even retired, like me. Anyway, I now have an electric, battery-powered mower that I push around my small flat lawn for less than an hour when my lawn needs mowing.
It is much lighter and so much quieter to use than my old mower that I had to “help” go around the yard, whoops, I mean lawn.
That’s not the only thing I have that is battery operated. How about the weed eater? The battery-powered drill? Screw gun? The leaf blower? Small nail gun? Hedge trimmer?
Some of my friends were smart enough to buy all of these items from the same manufacturer so all the batteries fit all the tools and the chargers are all the same. I bought my stuff over the years and some of my stuff was gifted to me by my wife and family members.
As a result, I have several manufacturers represented in my collection of tools that I cannot live without. I am even OK with pushing my quiet, battery-powered lawn mower around. Who knew?
It is good exercise for this old man as well. Besides, it really is much easier than the really heavy self-propelled machine I had!
Sailboats are really cool too, and they don’t even use electricity! But that is a subject for a future OMOTM column. I can’t wait. Did you know that a sailboat ….
So without any battery-powered knives, forks, or spoons, the OMOTM managed to enjoy another fine breakfast. Those who gathered at Mrs. K's were Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Ed Goff, Wm Lichliter, Pete Whitbeck, George Washburn, Frank A. Fuss, Duncan Bellinger, Robert Schanz, Joe Rack, Mark Traver, Al Schager, Roland Tozer, Jacob Lederman, Wayne Gaul, Ted Feurer, Frank Dees, Chuck Batcher, Russ Pokorny, Gerry Chartier, Ken Parks, Pastor Jay Francis, Warren Willsey, Herb Bahrmann, John Jazz, Gerry Cross, Dick Dexter, Bob Donnelly, Elwood Vanderbilt, Allen Defasio, Dave Hodgetts, John Dab, Paul Guiton, Henry Whipple, Dave Wood, and me.
DUANESBURG — I finally got to ride in the little itty-bitty Mazda RX7 convertible sports car! It was really cool, so cool in fact, you might even be tempted to call it downright cold.
The temperature at 6:30 a.m. on Tuesday morning, June 3, was just beginning its climb to a high of 85 degrees from an early morning low of 48 degrees. I was warned ahead of time that an additional jacket might be needed. It was, and I had it on.
I must say, however, it was a lot of fun. It instantly took me back in time to great memories that came flooding back even before I pulled the door closed and started to look around. I saw things like a real shift lever, and a clutch pedal, tachometer, and a bunch of dials and gauges that actually work and tell you stuff, which have long since been replaced by lights that are no fun to look at.
This car even had dual exhaust pipes, with mufflers that were reminiscent of the old Hollywood mufflers. Remember those? I mean, this OF was starting to feel cool and we were not even moving yet!
I felt like I had to raise my collar on my shirt, put my shades on, reach for my cigarettes, no, wait, wait — I quit smoking over 50 years ago in an effort to prolong my life; I can't put my shirt collar up because I have a jacket on in an effort to stay warm; and my really cool sideburns have now morphed into a white mariner’s beard and I wear a baseball cap with the letters OMOTM written across the front, which nobody knows what they stand for except us.
So we got going, rather than slouching down in the corner of my seat trying to look cool, I sat there, sitting on my hands, in a failing effort to keep them warm while my friend, the OF, took off, shifting way too many times as he drove through the twists and turns of the Helderberg Mountains.
But that is what you do when you have a great little sports car that looks like a sports car, sounds like a sports car, drives like a sports car, and makes you feel like the former Brazilian race car champion driver, Emerson Fittipaldi. It was a lot of fun, and the temperature warmed up enough so on the ride home I only had to sit on one hand.
A sixth eatery
We warmed up with a cup of coffee at the Chuck Wagon Diner, where you will never guess what the conversation was all about!
You guessed it. The Windowbox Café, located down in the flatlands of Slingerlands in the Stonewell Shopping Center at the intersection of routes 85 and 85A, is being added to the exclusive list of diners and cafés that OMOTM frequent for their breakfast on Tuesday morning.
This will make six diners where we talk too loud; laugh even louder; talk about cars, our health, lack of hearing; and find the tables and chairs where we will sit every time and order the same great breakfast every time without the benefit of menus, which, after the first time, our new best-friend waitress, won’t bother asking if we want one.
We will probably even be polite and say, “Thank you” the first time or two we go there before reverting to our regular form of being the grumpy OMOTM. Some of us will even leave tips!
We are looking forward to the Windowbox Café, even if it is in the flatlands but, since we have no rules, we can go anyplace we want to; we can’t vote on it because we don’t vote on anything.
Roadside hats
Under the heading of “More than you really wanted to know,” one OF, when asked about the hat he was wearing, responded with a rather lengthy explanation. He spoke about what amounts to a new hobby that he is embarking on, that of picking up hats he finds by the side of the road.
He told us of the amazing quantity and quality of hats, both old and new, that are just out there, lying along the road, just waiting to be picked up. He says they are all over the place.
He took off his hat, which he had picked up the day before, and showed us how new it was, and the obvious high quality of it. He explained it had never been run over by a truck or car. He showed us how clean it was; it had never been rained on or spent any time in a mud puddle.
He went on about how there are some Yankees baseball hats out there that are just too beat up to be bothered with and he just leaves them there. This comment bothered another OF who just happened to be wearing an old, beat-up Yankees hat. Another OF was heard to say that it was probably thrown there by a Mets fan.
At this point, the OF who first asked the question said, “That's all well and good, but all I asked was: What’s the hat about? Is it a sports team? A manufacturer? What does it stand for?”
To which our rather windy OF finally said, after proudly looking at his new-found hat again, “ I have no idea.”
Most of the rest of us with our OMOTM hats on, we know what those letters stand for, no one else does; that’s OK with us, we know. Those knowledgeable men enjoying breakfast on Tuesday morning were Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Miner Stevens, George Washburn, Michael Kruzinski, Frank A. Fuss, Wm Lichliter, Pete Whitbeck, Jake Herzog, Glenn Patterson, Joe Rack, Chuck Batcher, Russ Pokorny, Frank Dees, Robert Schanz, Al Schager, Pastor Jay Francis, Roland Tozer, Lou Schenck, Warren Willsey, Elwood Vanderbilt, Alan Defazio, Dave Hodgetts, Bob Donnelly, Paul Guiton, Gerry Cross, John Jaz, Dick Dexter, and me.
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.
DUANESBURG — It was a nice, sunny, blue-sky spring morning on April 22 as the OMOTM made their way to Chris’s Chuck Wagon Diner for breakfast. As usual, our coffee arrived at our seats at the same time as we did.
Also as usual, we placed our usual breakfast orders. Now, these usual orders can be the same order each week or not. Some OFs order the same breakfast at a particular diner. Other OFs will wait and ask what the specials are, and then order what strikes their fancy, which usually is what they order all the time.
Strangely, no menus are ever handed out, 20 or 30 of the OMOTM can show up, and not one menu is needed. The breakfast specials are generally found on a handwritten wall sign.
Our Happy Wanderer, the OF who was last reported to be driving counterclockwise (don’t ask) around Iceland with his daughter and granddaughter was back with us enjoying breakfast.
He talked about the hot water found all over Iceland at a depth of 200 to 300 feet down. About like the depth of an average (if there is such a thing) well here in the Hilltowns. This hot water is used to provide the heat for the homes and businesses throughout the country. I wonder what they do for cold water?
He was asked if they saw the volcanoes erupting. No, they didn’t.
He asked his daughter, who was driving at the time, to turn right at the sign that points to the volcano fields. Missed it. Our OF wasn’t upset. He said he expected the road would be closed after a little way because of the active volcano, and besides, they were on their way to another attraction that Iceland has to offer, so all was well.
On another day, they did manage to drive into a blizzard. The OF was driving this time, and he couldn’t see from one brightly painted pole to the next. In Iceland, the special brightly painted poles are spaced out along the road to help keep you on the road in situations like this. He says there are no guardrails on the sides of the roads.
So here he was, in a blizzard, couldn’t see the poles, the wind was howling, so he stopped to let his daughter drive. Like all of OMOTM, we have reached the point where our children are much better drivers than we are.
Their eyes are better, and their reflexes are so much quicker it is ridiculous. He said he had to hold onto the car while moving from the driver’s side to the passenger’s side to keep from being blown down. They made the switch and all ended well. They all got home, safe and sound. This was just last week.
He did say it was great to be back in the Hilltowns. He says that, as wonderful as Iceland is, with its dramatic volcanoes, geysers, mountains, and tremendous people, it is equally terrific to drive in the Hilltowns here in our own backyard.
We are so fortunate to live where we do, it is easy to take all this for granted. Sometimes you have to go away and then come back in order to appreciate all that we have and the beauty right here at home.
Fan club
It was as our breakfast was starting to wind down, and some of us were getting up to pay our bills, when those advance distaff scouts, the ones who can trace their lineage back to Calamity Jane, Belle Star, and Annie Oakley, made a discreet appearance.
I had written a short couple of humorous, tongue-in-cheek, and purely fictional paragraphs about these three present-day friends who were having breakfast at the Chuck Wagon. I came back to our table to pick up my coat and stopped to say hello and kid them about scaring all the OMOTM away from our table, which was now empty. We all laughed and then a nice thing happened to me.
As our scribe emeritus, John Williams, knows very well, it is very nice to find some people (other than family) who have read and enjoyed what you have written in the Old Men of the Mountain column found in The Altamont Enterprise.
Well, they said they read The Enterprise and have enjoyed the OMOTM column for many years. Old habits are hard to break, so they still read the column to this day. I thank John for his wonderful body of work he created over the years writing this column. He certainly has a large and loyal following of readers.
The nice thing that happened to me was just a simple realization of that fact.These three friends, who were sitting down to breakfast at the Chuck Wagon, all said they enjoyed the column and they even informed me which one of them was the granddaughter of Belle Star, Calamity Jane, and Annie Oakley. Made my day! Thanks for sharing your fan club, John.
The OMOTM who also enjoyed breakfast today were Wally Guest, Harold Guest, Roland Tozer, Miner Stevens, Wm Lichliter, Pete Whitbeck, George Washburn, Frank Dees, Jim Gardner, Jake Herzog, Russ Pokorny, Wayne Gaul, Ted Feurer, Glenn Patterson, Mark Traver, Joe Rack, Jamey Darrah, Marty Herzog, Lou Schenck, John Williams, Herb Bahrmann, Paul Bahrmann, Pastor Jay Francis, John Dabb, Elwood Vanderbilt, Dave Hodgetts, Gerry Cross, John Jaz, Jack Norray, Dick Dexter, Paul Guiton, and me.
DELANSON — A nice morning on April 15, following a really nice day on the 14th, made for a robust group of OMOTM showing up for breakfast at Gibby’s Diner. Add returning OFs from the warm sunny South and the noise level just keeps climbing.
Last week, we talked about an OF and his great big pancake. This week, I could talk about one OF who ordered ham and eggs for breakfast.
He made the mistake of ordering a ham steak and eggs and that ham steak was easily as large as last week’s pancake. It came on its own separate plate! To make a long story short, he had to ask for a doggie bag to take home the two-thirds he could not finish.
After watching the Masters Tournament and its exciting playoff ending after tying in regulation, I was expecting some conversation about it around the tables. Not a word.
I couldn't believe it, so I went around to all the tables and asked who at that table ever played golf and who, if any, watched the Masters on TV on Sunday. Silence, table after table, nothing but silence.
In the end, a grand total of three OFs, including me, had ever played golf. I don’t know about the other two OFs, but most of my golfing career was played at conventions where I spent most of my golfing time waiting for, and wondering where the beer cart was, and why it was taking so long for it to catch up to me. I was not a great golfer, but I had a lot of fun.
So much for talking about golf; it didn't take long at all.
Wanderling feline
At our table we did hear about one OF and his 27-year-old cat. It is a house cat and one fine day it seized an opportunity to see the great outdoors, and left.
Seven months later, while the OF was eating breakfast at home, the cat reappeared and has stayed at home ever since. Evidently the cat had seen enough of the great outdoors and came home.
When asked about what kind of cat it is, our OF, in typical OMOTM style, said he didn’t know; it was just a regular cat. He then went on to tell us of all the ills his regular cat has to deal with these days; there are a bunch of them.
That conversation about a 27-year-old regular ol’ cat who went on a walkabout for seven months took up much more time than any conversation about golf.
Icelandic roadtrip
Also last week, you may remember a discussion about the Pan American Highway from the southern tip of South America to the northern tip of North America. The Ultimate Road Trip.
Well, the OF who was talking about that road trip was not at breakfast with us this week. He is currently driving around Iceland!
Hard to keep track of some of these OFs! I would do that in a heartbeat, as compared to the Ultimate Road Trip. Iceland has some fantastic sights to see, such as big active volcanoes. That would really be something to witness.
Life’s path
I have been talking to one of the OMOTM about stuff. I really don't remember how we got on the subject of his life’s journey to arrive at where he is today. I have to talk to him again, as it has to be a fascinating story.
Like many of us, how we got to this place in life sometimes has very little to do with what we thought we would be doing by this time. If we even thought about it at all when we were young.
As most of you know, I didn’t grow up here in the Hilltowns in the mountains outside of the valley. I was a flat lander. I graduated from Voorheesville’s high school, and worked in the family business in Albany.
I did live in East Berne on Warner’s Lake in the summertime every summer while growing up, starting in 1952. Now I live here year ’round and can look across the lake at the family camp my daughter now occupies.
I write this weekly column about the OMOTM for The Altamont Enterprise and I volunteer my time with the local Kiwanis Club of the Helderbergs, helping the children and some families in the communities here in the Hilltowns. I assure you that this is not what I would have imagined long ago.
The volunteering part is not so much of a surprise. That clearly is the result of my upbringing; it is some of the values my folks taught me. Writing this column is a whole different story.
I think most of us can tell the very same story. I believe we would find a lot of common similarities. Everybody is different, yet everybody is the same.
The OF that was mentioned before, he grew up on a family farm right here in the Hilltowns. He still farms, but his card doesn’t reflect that. It says Pastor, Rock Road Ministries, and that doesn’t tell anywhere near the whole story. I can’t wait to sit down and talk with him; something tells me I’ll be a better man when we are through talking.
Those who stopped talking long enough to enjoy the fine breakfast at Gibby’s Diner were Harold Guest (Happy 89th Birthday, Harold!), Wally Guest, Pastor Jay Francis, Ed Goff, Michael Kruzinski, Pete Whitbeck, George Washburn, Wm Lichliter, Jake Lederman, Ted Feurer, Wayne Gaul, Warren Willsey, Roland Tozer, Miner Stevens, Frank A. Fuss, Jamey Darrah, Marty Herzog, Jake Herzog, Mark Traver, Glenn Patterson, Joe Rack, Lou Schenck, Jack Norray, Gerry Cross, Dick Dexter, Herb Bahrmann, John Dab, Paul Guiton, Elwood Vanderbilt, Bob Donnelly, Dave Hodgetts, Henry Whipple, and me.
After a great 70-degree day on Monday when many of the OMOTM got outside and got to work in the warm fresh air doing stuff that our bodies were complaining about on Tuesday morning, April 1, we woke up to 30-degree temps and wind. But we made it to Mrs. K's Kitchen in Middleburgh on time after chewing down some Ibuprofen tablets.
I am not kidding about the Ibuprofen tablets; old guys just sometimes don't seem to understand that we can’t do today what we did effortlessly yesterday. What do you mean I can't dig five little two-foot-deep post holes and put the fence posts in them in two hours? I probably won't even break a sweat.
Oh, wait. You mean the holes must all be the same depth? Because, if they are not, then the rails that fit into the holes in the end posts won't be the same height above the ground and the whole fence will really look stupid as the horizontal rails go up and down from post to post.
Rocks. I have hundreds, maybe thousands, of rocks lurking just one inch below the crab grass I call my lawn. I call my lawn a 20 mph lawn, which means if you drive by my house at 20 mph or faster and glance over at my lawn, it looks pretty good.
My neighbors all have 2 mph lawns with real grass and no crab grass. That’s OK because, once I get my wonderfully attractive split rail fence in place, I’ll be the envy of the neighborhood. My curb appeal will skyrocket.
Back to the rocks. Who knew they were there? Okay, one inch down, only 23 inches to go! I need something to help me get rid of the rocks, some of which are more like boulders.
I know what I’ll do — I’ll ask my friends, the OMOTM. They know everything. Sure enough, they did.
The only problem was, they all started talking at once, and loudly. For all of us OFs who wear hearing aids, this means only one thing. You just hear a bunch of noise.
I understood enough to realize I needed a few more tools. Just my trusty shovel was not going to do the job.
Two tools in particular are absolutely required. The first is a post-hole digger; the second is sort of a two-for-one tool with one end being flat and round like a 2- or 3-inch silver-dollar pancake. The other end is like a pry bar to help break up the soil and loosen up the rocks so the post hole digger can pick them up.
This pry bar is made of iron and around an inch or a little bigger in diameter. It is also over six feet long and weighs 5,000 pounds! You have to use two hands to raise it up before slamming it down into the hole. It takes about 1,000 slams per one foot of hole plus wiggling it around to really loosen the rocks and dirt so you can bend over and pick up the post-hole digger to help remove all this stuff from your two-foot hole. One inch at a time.
It wasn’t long before I was thinking about how deep do I really have to make this hole? Would 20 inches down be enough? How about 18 inches? By the way, once you start with the first 24-inch post hole, they all must be the same depth. And straight. And plumb, no fair having the post leaning this way or that way.
It also helps to have the holes in the post facing the rails so you have someplace to put the rails into the posts! Also helps to have the posts located 10 feet apart if you have 10-foot rails, otherwise — whoops.
Then I find out that, after I dig down two feet and have removed the last of the loose dirt and rocks, this part requires you to get down on your hands and knees and reach down into the hole and use your hands to get it all out.
After all that, guess what? Now they want you to put about one-and-a-half inches of small pea-size gravel down the hole to help drain rain water and snowmelt away from the post so it won’t rot away over time. After I just took all those *#!@$&^ rocks out in the first place!
Finally, I am ready to set the first of five posts of my wonderful split-rail fence. I make sure it is plumb with my level — did I mention you need a level? Yup, you do, and some sort of a measuring tape is critical to this operation as well.
Now you can shovel the dirt back into the hole and, using the end of that heavy, long iron bar that has the round flat silver dollar, you start pounding the dirt down all around the post. All two feet of it.
This is also approximately 1,000 times you will pound the dirt back in place. I did it! I got one post done, only four more to go!
And one more tool is the most important of all: You must have another person to help you! Preferably, this person will be younger, tireless, and in shape. Not an OF!
I didn’t make it. I got four done, I have one more to go. Really tired. Exhausted. Time for a cold beer.
The OMOTM who made it to Mrs. K's for breakfast the next day were Harold Guest, Wally Guest, George Washburn, Wm. Lichliter, Roger Shafer, Roland Tozer, Frank A. Fuss, Mark Traver, Glenn Patterson, Joe Rack, Ken Parkes, Jim Austin, Chuck Batcher, Russ Pokorny, Warren Willsey, Pastor Jay Francis, Lou Schenck, Jerry Cross, John Jaz, Herb Bahrmann, John Dab, Paul Guiton, Bob Donnelly, Dave Hodges, Elwood Vanerbuilt, and me.