In his youth, one of the Old Men of the Mountain had a summer job, jumping from a platform 80 feet high, wearing a cape that was set ablaze, and landing in the water below.
DUANESBURG — And a grand birthday party it was, held at the Chuck Wagon Diner on Sept. 23 for Elwood Vanderbilt on his 98th birthday. The singing was awful as usual, but what was lacking in quality was more than made up for with enthusiasm and volume from the exceptionally large crowd of OFs.
Tuesday’s attendance caused at least two of the tables to have completely different sets of OFs sitting at them. Never saw that before. One table held six OFs and the other table held four. As soon as each table got up to leave, it was immediately filled back up with some latecomers to the party.
At another table, an OF got to thinking what with Elwood being 98 years old, and the rest of us not far behind him, that the cumulative age of those present would easily surpass 3,000 years! Not surprising; after all, we are the Old Men of the Mountain!
It is that time of the year again, or maybe it is just because we are up and about at the crack of dawn, but there seems to be plenty of deer to be seen, and some to be avoided, on the way to breakfast these days.
We were treated to a spectacular red sunrise Tuesday morning, which of course made some of us mentally recite the old saying, “Red sunset at night, sailor’s delight. Red sunrise in the morning, sailors take warning.” Sure enough, the rains came later in the day.
Life journeys
As the regular readers of this column are aware, the life experiences of our members make for very interesting conversations and maybe just a few tall tales around the breakfast table on any random Tuesday morning.
We know of a few of these life journeys taken by our OFs. They include the hard work of being the fourth-, fifth-, even sixth-generation family farmer here in the Hilltowns.
One fifth-generation family farmer told a humorous story about the time when he was pulling into his driveway at the farm after running a few errands and a car pulled right in behind him. The other driver, a much younger man than our OF, got out and came up to him and commented how very beautiful the farm looked with the farmhouse and barns and fields.
Our OF proudly said thank-you and told the stranger that he was the fifth generation in his family to operate this farm. At this point, the young stranger informed him rather authoritatively that that was not true, that he knew the previous owner personally.
Our OF wished him well and they parted company and each went on their way. It should be noted that pastors, who are also fifth-generation farmers, seldom get into arguments regarding their own family history with young strangers who have no idea what in the world they are talking about.
The proof is in the pictures
While we are on the subject of the past journeys that we have all taken to finally arrive at this point, an OF last week was telling the story of one of his summertime jobs. Now, we all enjoy a good tall tale, but this particular tall tale was taking the tall-tale telling to truly Olympian heights.
It seems that last week he told the OFs at his table that his job was to jump into the water. That’s it, just jump into the water, and he got paid for it!
He didn't jump from the side of the pool, he didn’t jump from the diving board. No, not even from the 10-meter (33 feet) platform used in competitive diving meets.
Noooo, he jumped from over 80 feet up while standing on a 12-inch square platform! The only difference in the story from last week to this week was — he brought pictures this time!
There was even one picture, taken mid-flight, where he was wearing a cape that had been doused with a flammable substance and set ablaze just before he jumped.
One OF, in typical OF fashion, commented that our OF jumper used to be slender and six feet, six inches tall but every time he jumped and landed in the water, he sort of squished down and out a couple of inches, resulting in his current height of five feet, nothing by a width today of three feet, four.
Canadian travel
Not really enough time to get into the Reversing Falls tourist attraction that one of our OFs found in Canada while on a family vacation recently.
He also commented on the price disparity for gas between the two countries for the same brand-name gas just across the border from each other. One wonders if the price difference was a result of the price per liter versus the price per gallon.
Our vacationing OF also commented on the total lack of traffic going north or south on the four-lane road in each direction at the border crossing in northern Maine at this time of the year, resulting in bored customs officials with too much time on their hands, who, in good humor, decided to do a really thorough job of inspecting their camper while commenting how nice it was.
Those OMOTM who enjoyed the birthday party at the Chuck Wagon were Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Frank A. Fuss, Jacob Lederman, Ted Feurer, Wayne Gaul, Jim Austin, Chuck Batcher, Russ Pokorny, Warren Willsey, Frank Dees, Marty Herzog, Roland Tozer, Miner Stevens, James Darrah, Wm Lichliter, George Washburn, Pete Whitbeck, Jake Herzog, Pastor Jay Francis, Randy Barber, John Williams, Lou Schenck, Joe Rack, Al Schager, Robert Schanz, Mark Traver, Gerry and Winne Chartier, Duncan Bellinger, Herb Bahrmann, Paul Guiton, Gerry Cross, John Jaz, Dick Dexter, Jack Norray, Elwood Vanderbilt, Bob Donnelly, Dave Hodgetts, Alan DeFazio, John Dab, and me.
To the Editor:
During a very delayed reading of the Aug. 28 edition of The Enterprise, as I digested the news regarding Knox’s winter-salt dilemma and Frank Palmieri’s breakfast habits, there was a shocking item in the Old Men of the Mountain report, presented with no fanfare nor explanation. I am beginning to recover.
The OMTM had breakfast in Slingerlands. This staggering and unforeseen revelation raises a few questions:
— 1. Why did they come east off the mountain and was this a first?
— 2. Will this trend continue and will I ever be able to get a seat on Tuesday mornings at the Windowbox or Pretty Alright Breakfast Club again?
— 3. Who is the oldest member, and who has the longest tenure with the group?
Inquiring minds want to know!
Richard Rubin
Slingerlands
Editor’s note: R. Douglas Marshall, scribe for the Old Men of the Mountain, responds to Richard Rubin’s inquiries:
Richard, thanks for writing regarding the OMOTM slipping into the Windowbox Café in Slingerlands for breakfast. No, this is not our first time off the mountain; we have been to the Windowbox Café before as well as to the Home Front Café in Altamont and June’s in Clarksville. (Much smaller group of OFs then.)
Since the OMOTM don’t vote on anything, it is sort of hard to have appropriate fanfare, etc. Besides, the OMOTM don’t do fanfare very well; in fact, we don’t do it at all.
Some OF says something like, “Let’s try such-and-such place,” so we ask around and, if enough OFs say, “Sure, why not,” or at least don’t have a negative response, we we ask the such-and-such place if they wouldn’t mind the OMOTM stopping by for breakfast.
If they say yes, we arrive. If we have a good turnout (we already know the food is great!), that’s about as close to a vote as we get.
I think the OF who just celebrated his 98th birthday probably has blown out more candles than the rest of us. The longest tenured OF would have to be our Scribe Emeritus, John R. Williams.
Richard, you are always welcome to join us at the Windowbox Café for breakfast anytime, preferably on a Tuesday morning as we are not there any other time. We start arriving around 7 a.m., but late arrivals are a lot closer to 8 a.m. I get there at or a little before 7 a.m.
I have a trimmed beard (white). My email is MRMRDM4@gmail.com. Our next visit to the Windowbox will be Tuesday, Nov. 11.
We may not vote on anything, but we do have two rules we stick pretty close to: Numbers 1 & 2 are no talking politics and no talking religion. Just tell tall tales and enjoy breakfast with a fine group of OMOTM. I’ll save you a seat.
Summer is over. Long live the autumn.
Pleasant daytime temps, lower humidity, cool nights for sleeping, and the fall colors can’t be that far away. With the morning temperature in the mid to upper 40s, it was no surprise that the sandals, shorts, and short-sleeved shirts were nowhere to be found as the OMOTM gathered together at Mrs K's Kitchen in Middleburgh on Sept. 3.
We did enjoy a very nice Labor Day weekend from a weather point of view. But the third day of the holiday weekend is a little hard for us retired OMOTM to figure out what to do with it. We already are not working at a regular job so we are not enjoying a day off from a job we don’t have, and therefore the short four-day work week ahead holds no particular excitement for us.
As has been mentioned before, most of us are not closing up summer places and heading back “home”; we are home. We live here all year around. Now is our time. Slow down.
Slow down? Most of us are already moving around at a pretty slow pace. If we go any slower, we might just stop. That would not be good. We do notice the yellow school buses now moving around, but frankly, we are more interested in our vegetable gardens and watching our tomatoes ripen.
At the Long Table, 16 of us again, the quieter conversations ranged from the usual cars — there is a 1951 or 1952 Hudson for sale someplace nearby— to old and new rototillers for the aforementioned vegetable gardens. Not all OFs are helpless in the kitchen, especially those OFs with the vegetable gardens.
Overheard were recipes involving some of the impending harvest. One recipe and subsequent discussion had very little to do with the gardens however. It was solely concerned with cookies of various kinds and sizes.
Overheard also were some conversations among the OFs who still enjoy a ride through the mountains and Hilltowns on their motorcycles. To be honest, a nice ride on a perfect early autumn day does sound pretty good to me. Stop off for a BLT and a Coke at one of our diners and you have the makings of a great day.
The only thing to make it better would be to hook up with a couple of like-minded OFs at the diner a little later in the season so the autumn colors could be appreciated.
Remembering Irene
As we were eating breakfast on this beautiful Tuesday morning, some of us noticed a sign on the wall about five feet up from the floor. There was a horizontal line drawn on the sign showing the high water mark from the flood waters of the Schoharie Creek as a result of the rain fall from Tropical Storm Irene that hit the towns of Middleburgh and Schoharie on August 27 and 28, 2011.
Those dates, like only a few others for most of us, are forever etched in our memories. We all know where we were and what we were doing.
It has been noted before, the Middleburgh Diner, which is located just south of the center of town at the base of a mountain is high enough at that location not to flood. As a result, the diner stayed open nearly 24/7 to help friends and neighbors and the first responders find shelter, food, and some even slept there.
That’s just what friends, neighbors, and just ordinary strangers do when some other folks need a hand.
A lot of hands also helped many other homes and businesses get back on their feet as well.
Mrs K’s Kitchen was one of those small family businesses that was already an institution on Main Street in downtown Middleburgh; it has been at the same location since 1961, starting out as a small grocery store before opening as a diner in 1981. Same family, woman-owned. Different generations.
Just about four months to the day, give or take not much, Mrs K’s Kitchen reopened its doors on Jan. 7, 2022 to a waiting line of hungry friends and neighbors. They haven’t looked back since — what’s the point in that? — but they do have that little sign with the horizontal line, on the wall, about five feet up from the floor.
We OMOTM have been enjoying ourselves and the fine food and service at both of these fine Middleburgh institutions for many years. They both have been serving their customers for many more years than the OMOTM have been eating breakfast together. It really is our honor to be able to say to people that we eat breakfast on a regular basis at these and four more equally fine diners and cafés.
Those OMOTM enjoying breakfast at Mrs K’s while seated at tables and on chairs that were would have caused each and everyone of us to be a couple of feet under water some 14 years ago were Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Ed Goff, Jamey Darrah, Wm Litchliter, George Washburn, Pete Whitbeck, Frank A. Fuss, Mark Traver, Ken Parks, Joe Rack, Roger Shafer, Glenn Patterson, Roland Tozer, Marty Herzog, Jim Austin, Ted Feurer, Wayne Gaul, Jacob Ledernan, Pastor Jay Francis, Al Schager, Gerry Chartier, Chuck Batcher, Warren Willsey, Frank Dees, Russ Pokorny, Duncan Bellinger, Lou Schenck, Gerry Cross, Jack Norray, Dick Dexter, Herb Bahrmann, Elwood Vanderbilt, Bob Donnelly, Dave Hodgetts, Alan Defasio, John Dab, Paul Guiton, and me.
MIDDLEBURGH — We had to add a couple of tables to the long table this Tuesday, Aug. 26, as we settled in at the Middleburgh Diner. That means we had 17 OFs around the long table plus more sitting at additional tables close to the long table.
Looking back at some of the columns written by Scribe Emeritus John Williams, it is apparent that the OMOTM have been moving tables around the different diners ever since the beginning.
It looks like the OMOTM will enjoy some really nice, dry, late August weather. Maybe a little cool, but great sleeping weather.
Remember last week there was a discussion about how to have a conversation with a teenage granddaughter? It was pretty much agreed on that the OMOTM have no clue how to accomplish that particular feat.
Not only do we not know what to talk about, but we can’t hear the responses when we do try to talk.
We are kind of proud men who don’t have a problem asking a fellow OF to speak up, but it is kind of embarrassing to keep saying “What?” “What?” to a young lady, even if she is the granddaughter of a fellow OF. We just naturally don’t like to embarrass ourselves like that.
Well, this week another topic came up that we don’t do well with at all.
It seems as though one OF was going out to dinner and was getting dressed and, when it was time to leave, he put his sport coat on and found out that the weight-loss program he has been on is really working.
He said the coat felt and looked like a tent! Of course the good news is he has lost weight; the bad news is he has no idea how to fix his problem with how his coat fits.
Someone at his table suggested that he start eating a lot again. That is not an option. At our age, buying a new coat is pretty much not an option either.
Someone else suggested finding a seamstress.
“What's a seamstress?” he asked.
When he was finally told what a seamstress does, his next question was, “How and where do I find one?”
Not one of the 17 OFs seated at the long table had any idea. Nor did anyone at the other tables either. It was finally decided to go home and ask our wives and report back next week. Stay tuned for the ongoing misadventures the OMOTM.
Sailing misadventures
Speaking of misadventures, there was a brief discussion about sailing a Hobie Cat sailboat on our local lakes here in the Hilltowns. I had one of these misadventures myself wherein I promptly sailed my Hobie Cat to the bottom of the lake!
Without getting too techie, simply put, if the mast is set up so it is leaning toward the front (bow) of the boat, it will cause the bow of the boat to dig down into the waves. If the mast is set up so it is leaning to the back (stern) of the boat, the bow will tend to raise up and away you go!
I did not know anything about this, and neither did the OF across the table from me, who also suffered the same fate as I. We also both learned very quickly what was wrong and fixed the problem and never suffered that misadventure again. Other, equally embarrassing sailing misadventures sure, but not that one again.
Lake reverie
The conversation then turned to end-of-summer type questions to those of us with camps or who just plain live on a lake year-round. Questions concerning the population around the lake.
Does it go way down? Do all the boats get pulled out? How about the docks?
Some answers are the same year after year. Those families with children in school, who can therefore use their camps only from the Fourth of July to Labor Day, are obviously gone after Labor Day. School activities take up their time with sports and other school functions.
The weather is cooler, the water is cooler, the days are shorter and their boats are the first to be pulled out. Sure, they will come back to do the work to close the camps up for the winter, but summer fun at the camp is over.
For those lucky enough to live on, or near, one of the many lakes scattered throughout the Hilltowns, September and October can be an exceptionally fine time to be right here where you already live.
Time seems to slow down a little and it also seems a little bit quieter. Especially on the lakes.
It is canoe and kayak time and maybe some quiet fishing or just sitting on the dock or deck with a good cup of coffee or tea and watching the sunrise or set. Fall colors are not here yet and no hint of frost is in the air, just beautiful late summer weather. And it is free!
Time enough later to do the work of preparing for winter. First, let’s enjoy the late summer and then the colorful show that Mother Nature puts on each year. And it is all right here in our own backyard for the fortunate OMOTM who live in and around the Hilltowns of Albany County. No charge, compliments of Mother Nature.
Those OMOTM who enjoyed the good company and good food at the Middleburgh Diner were Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Ed Goff, Miner Stevens, Wm Lichliter, Pete Whitbeck, George Washburn, Frank A. Fuss, Robert Schanz, Jim Austin, Gerry Chartier, Chuck Batcher, Warren Willsey, Russ Pokorny, Frank Dees, Herb Bahrmann, Gerry Cross, Jack Norray, John Jaz, Dick Dexter, John Williams, Lou Schenck, and me.
SCHOHARIE — As we arrived at the Your Way Café this week, someone commented that it was over 20 degrees warmer than last Tuesday. This Tuesday, July 29, it was just short of 70 degrees as of 7 a.m., as compared to 47 or 48 degrees last week.
Warm weather is good for the OMOTM; we like that. Maybe we should all go to the warmer states in the winter. Nah, and miss the two-foot, 60 miles-per-hour Nor’easter snowstorm? Not a chance.
Another thing that was brought up was the fact that we have lost an hour of daylight already. It seems like only yesterday we were all waiting for the days to get longer and for the rain and cold temps to stop and dry out and warm up. Well, it did.
The days got longer and the rain stopped. In fact, we could use a good old-fashioned thunder-and-lightning storm about now. The lawns are looking a little brown. It has gotten hot and muggy; the water in the lakes has warmed up so everyone can just jump in without fear of freezing and, except for last Tuesday morning, we really don’t know or care where our long pants are.
One regular summertime event that is fast becoming a tradition is held in Middleburgh on the fourth Friday of the summer months, starting in May and ending in September. Starting around 5:30 p.m. and ending around 8:30 p.m., there are many, many local vendors lining both sides of Main Street, many of whom have set up their tables and booths on the wide sidewalk right in front of their own businesses. Many of the shops stay open during the Street Fest time.
There is live music as well. One musician was playing what sounds like a big bass violin. It isn't. It is electric and has a far-out modernistic look to it, but man, oh man, can he play it!
He was overheard talking to an older person who had stopped to listen to his music. He was saying that it doesn’t matter what note is played (who knows or cares?); it is all about how it sounds to the listener.
There is a serious life lesson in that statement that goes much further than music. Either you get it or you don’t. I simply do not have the talent or ability to expand on it and, if I did, this isn’t the column to write about it.
I’ll leave that to the pros, the Ralph Waldo Emersons of the world, the great composers, the playwrights, the poets and painters, and the authors. They get it, and continue to play, in their respective ways, their kind of “music” just right. I hear it, I see it, I read it, I get it.
But let’s get back to Middleburgh and its Fourth Friday Street Fests in the summertime. As you stroll along the wide sidewalks with all the vendor booths, you step aside for some of the OMOTM and their spouses walking along with their grandkids and great-grandkids.
You can smell the food truck vendors and see the picnic tables set up for you to sit and enjoy the food. Maybe you just duck into a nice cool tavern for a draft beer or a Coke and watch a group of dancers perform out on the sidewalk.
It is all there on a warm Friday evening when everyone is smiling and the dogs are all on leashes, wagging their tails. There is even a dunking booth where you can try and hit the target and dunk your favorite local businessman or businesswoman.
I overheard a man say he couldn’t hit the side of a barn even if he were inside it! The person in the booth said, “No problem, just press the button!” So he did, and splash! Down he went. Again. Everyone was laughing, everyone was having fun.
All this is happening on Main Street, Middleburgh, just a couple of blocks from the town park where local high school bands and orchestras give free concerts during the summer from the bandstand. It may not be Tanglewood or SPAC, but it just might be better!
I am not suggesting that Middleburgh is alone in doing something like this. It isn’t. From just the little amount of research I did, it is clear that across this land of ours, events like the Fourth Friday in Middleburgh take place. The people from the towns and neighborhoods hold square dances, celebrations of some local event or happening.
It is who we are, it is what we do. Like the man with the bass fiddle says, “It’s not the notes you play, it is how it sounds.”
We had another nice group of OMOTM having breakfast together at the Your Way Café and we too laughed and smiled as we told our same tall tales for the umpteenth time. Those present were Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Miner Stevens, Roland Tozer, Russell Pokorny, Chuck Batcher, Warren Willsey, Frank Dees, George Washburn, Pete Whitbeck, Wm Lichliter, Frank A. Fuss, Robert Schanz, Lou Schenck, Gerry Chartier, Roger Schafer, Joe Rack, Glenn Paterson, Mark Traver, Pastor Jay Francis, Al Schager, Duncan Bellinger, Herb Bahrmann, Jack Norray, John Jaz, Gerry Cross, Dick Dexter, Elwood Vanderbilt, Alan DeFazio, Dave Hodgetts, Paul Guiton, John Dab, and me.
MIDDLEBURGH — Another Tuesday morning, another OMOTM breakfast to enjoy with the OFs. Get up, get dressed, get ready to go.
The morning sun has already risen and as I glance out the window at the lake, I expect to see what I always see on a nice July morning. I expect to see a perfectly calm lake with the sun shining on it and maybe I’ll see the ripples here and there showing me where a fish has just jumped to catch another piece of breakfast.
That fish better be careful that the pair of bald eagles circling overhead, looking for their own breakfast; don’t see him jumping around.
But that usual summer scene is not there this morning. Fog is there, covering the lake like a blanket. Just the lake, not the mountains around it, not the sky above, just the lake.
This happens only when something cold (like air) comes in contact with something warm (like water). When we were young, we used to say the steam was rising off the lake. Of course it wasn't “steam” but it does sort of look like it.
The idea that the air is cold enough to cause this effect over warm water does make us smart OMOTM think that maybe the shorts and light shirts we just put on might not be the best choice for what to wear this morning.
A quick check of the outdoor thermometer confirms this thought. Forty-eight degrees is not warm enough for shorts.
Now the question arises, just exactly where are those long pants and shirts? There they are, hanging up in the closet. How did that happen? It has been happening like that for the OMOTM for the past 60 or 70 years, or ever since they got married. Oh. Yeah. Right.
So a fast change of clothes and we are ready to go to Mrs. K’s Kitchen for breakfast to see how many OFs are wearing long pants and long-sleeved shirts.
It turns out that most of the OFs must have outdoor thermometers because very few shorts and T-shirts were present. Also, no convertible sports cars were to be seen at all!
In fact, for some reason, a large number of us arrived early this chilly Tuesday morning, July 23. The OF that I carpool with also arrived about 10 minutes earlier than usual to find the Long Table about 80-percent full and several other tables were rapidly filling up.
Perfect storm
It is summertime and there were several guests of the OMOTM present this morning as old friends visit their old high school and college friends, or retired neighbors travel back North to visit the friends they grew up with.
There were certainly a lot of smiling faces and laughter all around Mrs. K’s. In fact, there has been a noticeable uptick in the number of people present at each of the last few breakfasts.
As happens once in a while to all of us, sometimes a perfect storm of negative events all occur at the same time to mess things up. So there we were, a larger-than-normal group of OMOTM complete with their additional friends, arriving on a day that the main cook is not in, and the main coffee-maker machine decides not to work.
So what happens? A different, less experienced cook steps up and does an excellent job.
In sports, when the first-string player can’t play, another player steps up and takes his place. This is called “the next man up” and that is what happened. The next man up is, in fact, a good cook who already helps the main cook all the time; he just isn’t the first string yet.
The coffee maker? Well, the old one still works, just not as fast and is not as big, but it works. So you go get it out of the closet, dust it off, and fire it up.
Can you think of a worse scenario for a diner, any diner, than dealing with an unusually large group of customers and having to deal with the two main items that all of these customers always order? Eggs and coffee!
No eggs, and no coffee equals less-than-satisfied customers. Not a good thing for a business that lives and dies with eggs and coffee.
Remember, this is a regular stop on the list of diners that the OMOTM go to all the time. They know us; they know our names and we know them and their names.
So, our waitress smiles a little more, talks a little more, jokes a little more, hey, we are the OMOTM, and if you start treating us like that, take all the time you need, we don't mind, we live for attention! (Just so long as breakfast follows shortly.)
So, what really happens? The “next man up” does a great job cooking, just a little slower, and the coffee? The same thing, just a little slower but just as good. The waitress and the coffee server? They are the first string, so no problems there. They just upped their game a little and everyone went away happy, as usual.
Those happy OMOTM on Tuesday were Walley Guest, Harold Guest, Ed Goff, Randy Barber, Wm Lichliter, George Washburn, Pete Whitbeck, Robert Schanz, Joe Rack, Ken Parks, Frank A. Fuss, Marty Herzog, Warren Willsey, Lou Schenck, John Jazz, Bill Bremmer Sr. and Bill Bremmer Jr, Gerry Cross, Jack Norray, Dick Dexter, Al Schager, Glen Patterson, Mark Traver, Gerry Chartier, Chuck Batcher, Russ Pokorny, Roland Tozer, Frank Dees, Jacob Lederman, Ted Feurer, Wayne Gaul, Duncan Bellinger, Pastor Jay Francis, Roger Schafer, John Dab, Elwood Vanderbilt, Bob Donnelly, Alan DeFazio, Dave Hodgetts, Herb Bahrmann, and me.
MIDDLEBURGH — The OMOTM arrived on time — that means anytime we get there — at the Middleburgh Diner on another fine summer’s morning, July 16.
The missing attendance list from our visit to the Windowbox Café has been found! It will be so noted at the end of this column. Rumor has it that it was found hiding in a safe place under a cocktail coaster!
The OMOTM have dispatched their highly trained, world-renowned investigators to get to the root cause of this near catastrophic happening. We have been told by this ultra special task force that there will be “no comment” while an active investigation is underway due to the extreme nature involving the national security of nearly every nation in the western hemisphere.
There are three nations who are not part of this national security pact, mainly due to the fact they have no national security.
About the only thing of any value that they have is each of them has a single fast-food restaurant. One has a Wendy’s, one has a Burger King, and one has a McDonald’s, and because it also so happens that these three nations share a common border as they all intersect at a single point. This intersection is called the “Three Corners” — much like the Four Corners in Delmar, except they only have three corners. Each fast-food place occupies one corner.
It so happens that, on occasion, these establishments engage in what the locals call “The War of the Fries.” This happens on a semi-regular basis: one place accuses the other of selling “short fries,” or sometimes it is more of a “fat fry vs. skinny fry,” or even the ultimate insult, using regular salt in place of sea salt.
That one sometimes results in a loud voice or, the ultimate response, someone almost shaking a finger at someone. That ultimate response is no longer used because, with only three corners, no one is quite sure who the recipient is supposed to be of the almost finger-shaking.
So the “War of the Fries” ends with everyone calming down and cooling off with a shake, a vanilla shake, a chocolate shake, and a strawberry shake. No, to our knowledge, there has never been a “War of the Shakes.”
Getting back to our intrepid task force charged with the issue of the now-not-missing attendance list from the the Windowbox Café, since this involves a cocktail coaster, an empty cocktail glass, and a few peanuts, the task force has determined that it can only investigate this mystery during cocktail hour from 5 to 6 p.m. with an appropriate beverage at hand. This investigation may take a while.
Picnic review
We had a nice crowd having breakfast at the Middleburgh Diner. We added another table to the length of our long table because we OMOTM like our “long tables” where we can hardly hear across the table much less even halfway down the length.
We welcomed a new Teller of Tall Tales to our midst and a long-time member made it known to the keeper of the mailing list that he has not received any emails for a long time. I am told that that has been corrected.
The OFs continued to critique our annual picnic and, in particular, the accommodations found aboard the “Pride of Warner’s Lake” pontoon boat. The total lack of seating aboard the Pride might put some people off, but not the OMOTM.
Our host for the picnic doesn’t have enough chairs for all of us to sit on during the picnic, so he asks us to please bring our own chairs. No problem, we bring our own chairs.
When the captain of the Pride says to those of you who want to go for a cruise around the lake, please bring your own chairs with you to the boat, that’s no problem. It’s just a normal thing for the OFs at their own picnic.
You know what? Last week, while talking about the OFs and our modes of transportation to and from the picnic, our usual motorcycles, pickup trucks, classic antique cars, military truck, and the usual Model T and the two little classic convertible sporty cars that were missing this year were mentioned.
What was not mentioned were the new modern all-electric cars that several OFs now drive as their regular means of transportation. Just because some of us have become classics in our own right doesn’t mean we can’t be modern and up to date, just like the lyrics say from the song in the Broadway musical, “Oklahoma.”
Now for the infamous attendance lists.
First, this week’s from the Middleburgh Diner: Harold and Wally Guest, Ed Goff, Miner Stevens, new member Randy Barber, George Washburn, Pete Whitbeck, Wm Lichliter, Frank A. Fuss, Jim Austin, Warren Willsey, Chuck Batcher, Russ Pokorny, Duncan Bellinger Esq., Herb Bahrmann, Alan DeFazio, Dave Hodgetts, Bob Donnelly, John Jazz, Jack Norray, Dick Dexter, Robert Schanz, Gerry Chartier, and me.
Now from the Windowbox Café (a week late): Wally & Harold Guest, Peter T. Parisi, Frank A. Fuss, Robert Schanz, (there was a person who signed in right between Fuss and Schanz but I can’t make out who you are. Let me know and I’ll add you next time), Marty Herzog, Jim Austin, Jake Lederman, Ted Feurer, Wayne Gaul, Pete Whitbeck, Gerry Chartier, Josh Beuls, Jake Herzog, George Washburn, Lou Schenck, John Williams, Warren Willsey, Russ Pokorny, Charly Batch, Bob Donnelly, Elwood Vanderbilt, Alan DeFazio, Dave Hodgetts, Paul Whitbeck, Pastor Jay Francis, Al Schager, John Jazz, Jack Norray, Dick Dexter, Gerry Cross, Henry Whipple, Paul Guiton, John Dab, and me.
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.