MIDDLEBURGH — Above freezing temps plus snow on the ground equals fog. Driving across Cotton Hill Road proved to be a bit of a chore on Dec. 10; these OMOTM eyes don’t care too much for the bright lights of approaching cars. But we made it to the Middleburgh Diner in time to join our fellow OFs at the long table for a fresh cup of hot coffee.
I expected to hear Christmas preparation stories, but instead I sat down to a discussion of how nice and warm and sunny it was on the beaches of Florida while the rest of us enjoyed the last couple of weeks of cold and snow.
One OF did talk about his daughter who is visiting for the holidays. This is a common phenomenon that occurs in the lives of some of the OMOTM.
I believe it is one of the graduate courses taught at parent school when we were a lot younger and just learning about this thing called “Parenthood.” Some of the OFs either missed or skipped that “Coming Back” chapter or didn't believe it would ever apply to them.
To borrow a line from the movie, “Pretty Woman”: “Big mistake!”
The OF was talking about how his daughter really missed having a nice big, beautiful Christmas tree all decorated with her favorite ornaments. The OF patiently explained how he hadn't had a Christmas tree in nearly 20 years.
He had downsized his house, but, like all OMOTM, hadn’t particularly downsized the amount of furniture he still has. There simply was no room for a tree.
But then, also like all OMOTM, he started looking around and said to himself, “If I take that chair (that nobody ever uses) and put it in the spare bedroom, scrunch this and that a little, and make the decision that we don’t really need the full width of that doorway, and if I bought a small tree — it might just work.”
He then wondered about what had happened to the price of a Christmas tree over the past two decades. How bad could it be, if he bought a really little tree? Pretty bad.
He said his little tree costs more than twice what he paid for the big tree that they used to have in their big house with the vaulted ceilings.
And, as for the string of Christmas-tree lights, again he asked us to recall how it was that all those lights that were working just fine when we packed them away last year, had suffered some tragic losses over the course of one year. Imagine the body count of Christmas-tree lights that would/could occur over 20 years!
Well, you are all aware of the classic Christmas movie, “Miracle on 34th Street.” We now have our very own Miracle of the Hilltowns: The lights all worked! No fatalities.
Now the last thing the OF wanted us to try to imagine was how his little Christmas Tree that Could, would look when decked out with enough lights and all the special ornaments from the big trees in his past.
He said it looks like the best Christmas tree he has ever had. He and his daughter will share this memory, of this Christmas, and this Little Christmas Tree that Could, forever.
I think our OF and his daughter just gave each other one of the very best Christmas gifts they possibly could.
Driving to Florida in the fast lane while Mom sleeps
It seems like whoever returns from some well-deserved vacation time to a warm climate just has to announce to one and all exactly how warm and nice it was where he was, as compared to where the rest of us were. I suppose some of us are going to hear this story repeated over and over in one form or another, from now until spring.
This particular conversation morphed into a general discussion of Florida, specifically, on how long it is. It really is a long way to travel from Jacksonville in the north to the tippy end of Key West. It was compared to driving the length of the New York State Thruway from New York City to Buffalo and on to the Pennsylvania state line.
As many men my age can relate to, I used to drive my mother down to Florida for the winter, first on the East Coast then on the West Coast before she settled on Sanibel Island.
The only quick story I'll pass along about those trips was about the time she fell asleep for a couple of hours and when she woke up she asked where we were. I told her and gave her the odometer reading.
She did the math and all at once exclaimed, “Douglas! Do you know how fast you were going?”
(As a son or daughter, we always knew when we were in trouble when our parents used our full given name!)
I think I must have said something clever like, “I was just going along with the traffic.”
That line never worked with the police either. Everyone knows how I-95 is famous for being such a slow road in Georgia in the late morning. Anyway, I did move over to the right lane. For a while.
Those OMOTM who gathered at the Middleburgh Diner were Harold and Wally Guest, Ed Goff, George Washburn, Wm. Lichliter, Frank A. Fuss, Miner Stevens, Jamy Darrah, Roland Tozer, Jake Herzog, Frank Dees, Russ Pokorny, Jim Gardner, Lou Schenck, (last week I left the “S” off his last name, sorry about that), John Jazz, Jack Norray, Dick Dexter, Gerry Cross, Herb Bahrmann, Warren Wilsey, and me.
All of us, theOld Men of the Mountain, not only wish each other, but all of you at The Altamont Enterprise and the readers of this column in particular:
A Merry Christmas and
Special Holiday Season to All.
DUANESBURG — The OMOTM met at the Chuck Wagon on Tuesday morning and it certainly felt like a December morning in the Hilltowns. Snow on the ground, temperature in the teens, cars that took a little longer to warm up (love those seat heaters!) but the coffee that follows us to our seats was hot and fresh as usual, and welcomed.
After missing a couple of breakfasts, I was welcomed back and was looking forward to the usual sparkling conversation to be heard around the room at the different tables. Right off the bat, the tone was set by our own resident poet laureate, Jake, who, when asked if he was a hunter and, if so, was he successful this year?
He responded in the affirmative to being a hunter as he has spent his life hunting for “Truth” and “Peace and the Meaning of Life.”
The table fell silent at that answer, but only for a moment before another OF produced a picture of a nine-point buck that insisted on remaining still long enough to have his picture taken.
That same OF, who definitely is not prone to watching football on the TV on the weekends, also showed a couple of other pictures of a couple of big, 24-inch northern pike who also took the time to pose for pictures while he was fishing in Lake George this past weekend. I think we should call him Daniel Boone from now on.
We all signed a get-well card for Pastor Jay Francis who underwent a knee replacement operation this past week. All is well and we look forward to welcoming the pastor back as soon as possible.
Two of our OFs wore their big furry fox hats today. I probably got that wrong, but the tail didn’t look like what I would think a coonskin hat should look like. I’ll take a picture next time. They sure looked warm however, and big!
It’s Just a Game
A while back, we talked about high school sports and the fact that there are programs out there that make it possible for athletes that age to train and practice and play that sport the whole year. We made it clear that these are additional programs and not part of any particular high school’s curriculum.
It was in addition to what a school could and would offer. I made my view clear that I thought, at the high school level, kids should enjoy different sports, go out for different teams, and have some fun while they are at it. Make new friends, enjoy being a kid.
It doesn’t last very long. When you are just 15 or 16 years old, you are still growing; time enough for 24/7/365 training later.
What I did want to emphasize were the lessons young people are being taught at every level of every sport every day. If you are on a team, for any team sport, the concepts each athlete will learn stay with them throughout their life. The concepts of fair play, competition, doing your part for the betterment of the team, of losing gracefully or, and this can be even harder, winning gracefully.
On the other hand, if your talents or interests lie in an individual sport like swimming, or golf, or the marching band, singing with the glee club or barber shop quartet, you are still contributing and competing to be part of a team. The same lessons are taught, just being applied to a different arena.
A friend of mine and fellow OMOTM, and also the current president of the Kiwanis Club of the Helderbergs, Frank Dees, has always been involved in sports. The Altamont Enterprise had a wonderful full-page editorial a dozen years ago about Frank and his work in high school sports.
Frank started a not-for-profit called It’s Just a Game. Frank deals with head injuries and concussions, I love the name. It represents what I have always thought; this is high school sports for goodness sake. It’s just a game.
I am not making a case against football or any other contact sport. I also played football in high school and college, but I am trying to emphasize the positive aspects of high school team sports and athletics in general. Some good life lessons can, and are, being taught at the high school level.
There are some real downsides to taking it too far. High school kids are not pros; let kids be kids. The idea of trying out for the marching band, glee club, or barber shop quartet, it’s all the same.
The same lessons are all there to be taught and learned. It is all the same, to be part of something bigger than just you, it’s a good thing. I have talked with many of the OFs at the OMOTM breakfasts, and to a man, they agree.
They all have fond memories of when they were young and played on their high school teams. It was important then, and is important now. Simpler times then, and while times change, the lessons do not.
The high schools do a great job in their physical education programs while teaching the many lessons that the world of sports can provide. Remember, it may be high school athletic programs, but we learn a lot. It’s Just a Game, and so much more.
Tuesday’s OMOTM who enjoyed good hot coffee and great food at the Chuck Wagon were: Wally Guest, Harold Guest, Wayne Gaul, Ted Feurer, Jake Lederman, Frank A. Fuss, Ed Goff, Jake Herzog, Warren Willsey, Jim Gardner, Frank Dees, Russ Pokorny, Roger Shafer, Joe Rack, Mark Traver, Glenn Patterson, Lou Chenck, Marty Herzog, Jamey Darrah, Jack Norray, Gerry Cross, Dick Dexter, John Dabb, Elwood Vanderbilt, Bob Donnelly, Dave Hodgetts, Alan Defazio, Herb Behrmann, Paul Guiton, and me.
SCHOHARIE — A nice day was dawning as the Old Men of the Mountain gathered together at the Your Way Café in Schoharie on Nov. 18. I was fighting a cold of some sort and was not there this week in order to not pass along whatever it is I have.
Thanksgiving is next week and for many of us, it is among the most favorite of all the holidays.
I sent out an email to my fellow OFs, telling them I would not make Tuesday's breakfast and promptly heard back from another OF that he has COVID and would not be there either. Of course I heard from other OFs suggesting some time-honored recipes involving alcohol. I think I'll pass on that.
This is the time of year that none of us wish to be under the weather; this is the time of year when the OMOTM get to spend some quality time with their families and close friends. No fair getting sick for the next six or seven weeks.
But now? Now I get to demonstrate and prove just exactly how much I don’t know about cooking. My wife and I worked together on just about everything, including Thanksgiving dinner.
Let me tell you about the difference between knowing why she wanted the apples sliced a certain way for the apple pie vs. just cutting it up any which way.
Did I know she started making the stuffing the day before? Nope. It was my job to cut the stuffing bread into one-third- to one-half-inch cubes and toast to “just brown” in a 350-degree oven.
Did I know about frying celery and onions until clarified? Clarified!? What the hell is “clarified?” Then there is the “smell” test for the sage; mix it all together and let it sit overnight.
That was just half the stuffing prep work done the day before. Don't worry, I'm not going through all the steps for all the different parts to the perfect Thanksgiving Day dinner that I remember she put on every year.
She made a Jell-O fruit salad, which is easy enough, but how do you get the fruit suspended in it? I can handle the green-bean casserole and mashed potatoes. I'm good at mashing potatoes, but have no clue about how to make gravy. I remember standing there with a whisk stirring away until she told me to stop.
So now I buy it at the grocery store, which is right next to the wine and liquor store. Mustn’t forget to pick up a couple of bottles of wine.
Finally, I know how to stuff the turkey and I know how to use a meat thermometer and look for the pop-up thing to pop up.
I also am very good in the pie department. I no longer have to show off my skill at slicing the apple just so. I have long since discovered the Apple Barrel and their pies. I will buy two pies, an apple and a pumpkin. Mustn’t forget the ice cream and heavy cream.
The other thing I was good at was washing dishes and cleaning up as we went along. Midge, my wife, insisted on using the same utensils after I had just cleaned them!
It was Thanksgiving. It was fun preparing for it. I think we would order a pizza the night before. We would look forward to seeing our children and, after a while, our grandchildren, arriving for Thanksgiving dinner at Grandma and Grandpa’s.
Sometimes we invited a neighbor or a friend who was alone that year. Of course, we had our folks join us for many years. I am sure they did not mind passing the torch to the next generation.
So there is a little bit of my fond memories of Thanksgiving Days I had with my family over the years. The Old Men Of The Mountain wish all of you, your families and friends the very best of this very special day: Happy Thanksgiving.
Those who were healthy enough to enjoy breakfast at the Your Way Café on Tuesday morning were; Wally Guest, Harold Guest, Ed Goff, Roland Tozer, Gerry Chartier (not here on Nov. 19; Gerry was here last week and I missed him ), Frank Fass, Jamey Darrah, Wm Lichliter, George Wasburn, Frank Dees, Miner Stevens, Warren Willsey, Russell Pokorny, Wayne Gaul, Ted Feurer, Roger Shafer, Joe Rack, Mark Traver, Jack Morray, Herb Bahrmann, Lou Schenck, Bob Donnelly, Elwood Vanderbilt, Dave Hodgetts, John Dab, Paul Guiton, Allan DeFazio, and not me.
MIDDLEBURGH — The OMOTM gathered together at Mrs K's Kitchen this week to enjoy fellowship and good food. Last week, on Wednesday, it was a nice day and I decided to hike up Vroman's Nose over by Middleburgh.
This is a popular hike of about 1.8 miles round trip to the top and looping back back down. Just about everybody I talked to at the OMOTM breakfasts has hiked this trail and said it was pretty easy to do. ( I think they were a lot closer to 40 years old when they hiked the trail.)
It was a bucket-list item for me ever since I learned about the striations, or grooves, in the flat rocks at the top of Vroman's Nose that were made by glaciers as they passed by moving southward some 10,000 years ago. I really wanted to see something definitely made by glaciers during the last ice age. So off I went.
Now, believe me, I'm not bragging, I thought that this was going to be little more than a stroll in the park; after all, it has an elevation of only 1,240 feet. Or, put another way, it has only a 426-foot elevation gain from bottom to top.
How hard can that be
When you are in any kind of shape and 40 years old, not hard at all. When you are 81 years old and have worked very hard for the last few decades to be as far out of shape as you can possibly get, then I strongly suggest that you should have your head examined before risking life and limb on this stroll in the park!
But I made it. I have pictures to prove it, and pictures of the striations as well. The view is wonderful.
It has been nearly a week now, and my legs are still recovering. My thighs were totally shot. I could barely stand upright, much less move at the end. Rubbery, Jell-O, all those adjectives don't begin to describe how my legs felt.
I was totally unprepared for the effort. Believe it or not, I was OK going up; it was the return, going downhill, that wiped me out!
As a result of all this, I was exceptionally tardy in delivering my OMOTM column to The Altamont Enterprise. I had actually completed the column on Tuesday, the day before the ill-fated decision to go for a hike.
It was while I was in that never-never land of wondering if I was ever going to recover or not, that I realized I had never sent the OMOTM column to the paper. I quickly hit the “send” button and apologized to the paper for being late.
Now dealing with the paper was the easy part. They were understanding, gracious, and professional, so when all was said and done, I did manage to get my column in to them with one day to spare. So, as far The Enterprise was concerned, “no harm, no foul.”
The OMOTM? Maybe not so much. They are used to getting an email from the Scribe Emeritus and now me, that contains that week's column and any announcements on either the Thursday or Friday following that week's breakfast.
When they don't receive their email on time, they want to know what's going on, and why. They may even get a little grumpy.
With that in mind, I entered Mrs K's Kitchen on Nov. 12 not knowing what awaited me. As it turned out, all was well. I took my seat and ordered breakfast.
Our working days
At another table, or possibly at the other end of the same long table I was sitting at, a discussion of the occupations we worked at during our working careers was going on.
This discussion was a continuation of a topic left over from last week. The question was asked about what we all did during our “working days.”
In addition to the occupations mentioned last week, we can now add several more, such as another NIMO [National Incident Management Organization] worker, a Schoharie Highway Department worker, another DOT [Department of Transportation] worker, and a school bus driver.
We have an OF who was in the tire business for 15 years, another computer programer, and a first responder firefighter for 37 years. Continuing on, we find an employee of Owens Corning for 30 years, a commercial refrigeration wholesaler, a newspaperman, a retail general-store owner, a schoolteacher who ended up on the administrative side in the school system, and finally, a mental-health administrator.
So to repeat a comment from last week, it is not difficult to imagine the totally different conversations going on at the same time at different tables at our weekly breakfast meetings. Most of these OMOTM held these jobs for literally decades and, while providing for their families, they did what we all did.
They went on vacations; traveled; they helped their friends and neighbors; they went to church, and, with their wives, they raised their families.
The OMOTM are not unique in what they did; what sets them apart is where they live. Most of these men have lived up here in these mountains their whole life. They have known each other one way or another, for many, many years.
In a way, it is like the old days in the cities, where you would have an Irish neighborhood, a Polish neighborhood, or German or Chinese neighborhoods where you could find a close-knit continuity of friends and neighbors that have been there for decades. Like the old TV show “Cheers” — “where everybody knows your name.”
We know everybody's name this week: Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Ed Goff, Wm Lichliter, George Washburn, Roger Shafer, Mark Traver, Joe Rack, Glenn Patterson, Ken Parks, Roland Tozer, Jake Herzog, Jake Lederman, Ted Feurer, Wayne Gaul, Marty Herzog, John Dab, Herb Bahrmann, Jack Norray, Lou Schenck, Henry Whipple, Bill Coton, Bob Donnelly, Elwood Vandererbilt, Dave Hodgetts, Allen Defasio, and me.
MIDDLEBURGH — It was a lot nicer to drive over to the Middleburgh Diner in the early morning daylight this week. Only have to suffer through losing more daylight for another month and a half until the days start to lengthen.
But first we must mow the lawn one last time, then put the snow tires on, get the snowblower ready, have fires in the fireplace, and enjoy some homemade stew. The fireplace and the stew sound good to us; you can keep the rest.
Last week, the OMOTM had a discussion about how many of us owned motorcycles at any point in our lives and how many still ride. Turned out that probably 50 percent or more rode cycles at one time or another, and around 25 percent still do. Which, as you remember, surprised me.
During this past week, I received some additional info from some OFs and one of them even sent along a really nice photo of his scooter. It looks just like a classic motorcycle except smaller, sorta like a scooter.
Election Day
Election Day! Finally! The OMOTM have only a couple of rules, which are followed pretty closely. They are: We stay away from talking about politics and talking about religion.
Even with this particular election cycle with all of its twists and turns, I never heard any comments, pro or con, about any of it at our breakfast get togethers. I'll go out on a limb and venture a guess that most of the OFs are relieved it is finally over.
Several OFs have served in various capacities on election days gone by. One of them was part of a two-man team, one from each party, that were ready to address any problems that might have occurred with the machines on that day.
He said they had to go to school and learn all about how the machines operated and what to do if this or that happened.
These machines were the old type with the levers. He said they were “bullet proof” and foolproof; you couldn't mess with them.
Other OFs talked about taking the results to the police cars to be taken to the counting stations and all the precautions and cross checks that were in place to prevent mistakes in the counting.
There were always some funny stories connected with some of the strange things that happened along the way. But they were always just natural funny stories that happen to all of us at times. Nothing bad, nothing illegal, just funny.
Varied careers
All of this talk got me thinking about the backgrounds of my fellow OMOTM. They are all from the Hilltowns, but what did they do for a living while they had young families growing up? What did they do to put food on the table and pay the power bill or make that car payment?
There were many farms, mostly dairy I believe, throughout these Hilltowns in the Helderbergs. For many reasons, the number of farms today is a much smaller number than yesterday.
The state of New York and the federal government with all its many departments, provided employment for several OFs. One was a professional engineer with the Department of Transportation for over three decades.
Another OF was in the IT industry with the state, also for decades. I commented to him that he witnessed the whole transformation from before computers were invented to what we have now. Same industry, but totally different. If he retired 25 to 30 years ago, can you imagine the changes?
Speaking of how the computer industry has changed the workplace landscape, how about the OF who's career with the Department of Environmental Conservation also spanned many years.
For many years, one of the OFs earned his living writing computer programs. Another was a machine operator; another, a lineman for Verizon.
Two or three OFs present on Tuesday morning worked in different sections or plants of General Electric. Remember NIMO [National Incident Management Organization]? Yup, we were there as well.
A couple of OFs said they married very well and didn’t worry about it. (We laughed and didn’t believe them. Great idea however.)
Another OF said he has been retired for so long that he forgets what he did for a living. (We laughed at that as well, but this time we believed him.)
The most unusual occupation found around the tables was that of a chimney sweep. One of our OFs started and ran a successful chimney-sweep company. He had to have a license to be a chimney sweep. He had his employees wear the uniform of top hats, white gloves, etc.
The only problem he had was, it was very seasonal. What to do with the rest of the year?
Another longtime OF worked for AT&T. He was totally involved with the switching stations that without them working correctly, your phone call to your neighbor could end up with you talking to someone in California! Just kidding. I think.
He was also very involved at the supervisory level with the laying of the transatlantic phone line. Cell phone anyone?
So now you begin to get the idea of where our Scribe Emeritus, John Williams, got his ideas for his OMOTM columns in The Altamont Enterprise for all those years. With all this diversity of working backgrounds, coupled with the commonality of us living and growing up in the Hilltowns and mountains of Albany County, John, who was a commissioned artist in his own right, could have written the column for decades to come.
One of the constants throughout the years is the final paragraph listing who got together that week for breakfast. Here is the list: Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Miner Stevens, Ed Goff, George Washburn, Wm Lichliter, Roland Tozer, Frank A. Fuss, Gerry Chartier, Jake Herzog, Frank Dees, Jim Gardner, Russ Pokorny, Warren Willsey, Herb Bahrmann, Lou Schenck, Gerry Cross, Lack Norray, Dick Dexter, and me.
DUANESBURG — As we pulled into the parking lot of the Chuck Wagon Diner on Tuesday, Oct. 29, the sun was nowhere to be seen. Daylight Saving Time ends on Nov. 3 so that will help lighten up next week’s drive. Should be at least a little less dark.
It is really the darkness at 5 in the afternoon that gets our attention; it is a long way from sunset at 8:30 p.m. in June! Not only that, the fall foliage here in the Hilltowns is past peak. It is over.
A couple more warm days of Indian Summer ended October and started November. One of those warm days covered Halloween this year. That is good.
It is always fun to see the little kids get all excited in their scary costumes and run around “trick or treating” in search of candy. Halloween and little kids brought back many fond memories of times gone by for the OMOTM.
We remembered carving pumpkins for our children, then they “helped” us carve the pumpkin, and finally they did it all by themselves. At the end, they were pretty darn good.
As we grew older, we kept the spirit of Halloween going with adult costume parties. We all have noted the great big skeletons of various scary animals and scary people that seem to be very popular these days. They are huge! Some of the decorations are as elaborate, or even more so, than what we see at Christmas time.
Hilltown bikers
At one table, an OF was heard to comment that he has started to winterize his motorcycles. Yes he has more than one. This prompted a rather extended conversation regarding motorcycles. Who has them? Do they still ride? What kind? Do you have more than one, how many? Who had a sidecar?
Now remember, we are talking about the OMOTM present at today's breakfast. The question was asked, “How many OFs currently own, or used to own, motorcycles?
I was not prepared for a couple of the answers. Why? A little background info is in order here.
A couple of weeks ago, Oct. 17, The Altamont Enterprise featured a great editorial titled, “Our March of Progress through life should not end in mere oblivion.” It was all about aging and how we deal with the many aspects of this process. Good and bad.
Two sentences, among many in the article, stood out to me. The first was, “Ageism is one of the last socially accepted prejudices.” ( Not a good thing.)
The other was, “Each of us can make an effort not to discriminate against others or, if we are old, against ourselves.” It was the last two words of that sentence that really grabbed my attention, “against ourselves.” I had never thought about discrimination from that perspective before.
I am guilty of that. Because, if I find myself being a little surprised that the OF I'm talking to is remembering when he had his motorcycle and was riding around the Hilltowns with his friends having fun, why do I find that unusual?
Do I really think that this 90-year-old OMOTM has been 90 years old his whole life? Intellectually, I know he was 20 years old, and did things all 20-year-olds do. I had a motor scooter, and a friend stored his motorcycle in my garage; it was licensed and I used it all the time.
So to get back to the OMOTM and their bikes. I found that at least half (probably more) of the OFs present owned and rode one or more motorcycles at one time or another during their lives. At least six OFs ride to this day.
So as I look around the room at my friends, these OMOTM, and see them as they are today, why do I have difficulty seeing them as young men with a full head of dark hair, with little or no extra weight on their muscular bodies?
Why? Because I am guilty of discrimination “against ourselves,” that's why. If some of them drove their antique automobiles to breakfast, my mind says: OK, old people have old cars, but ride new motorcycles? Why not?
Just because we are older, does that mean we can’t, or didn’t, ride a motorcycle? Just because we are older, does that justify saying or thinking, “Good for you, old man.”
See? That's discrimination, no matter who says it or thinks it. Because I’m one of them, and I thought it, I'm discriminating against myself. That will stop right now to the best of my ability.
All of this is not denying that, as we grow older, we are not what we used to be physically, even mentally. We don’t run and jump anymore; many of us wear hearing aids or wear glasses. As we grow old, we walk more slowly.
I know I am not as steady on my feet as I was, and my reactions are not nearly as fast as they were, which is why I do not drive when my daughter and son-in-law are around. They drive, because I asked them to. They are much better than I am.
But we are not invisible. We can contribute, we want to, we have a lot to offer. Discrimination, prejudicial comments, even self-inflicted, or coming externally, eventually wears us down; it diminishes us.
Breakfast with our fellow OMOTM friends, on the other hand, builds us up and brings us a little happiness, so with that in mind, I offer you this week’s list of breakfast attendees: Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Jake Lederman, Wayne Gaul, Ted Feurer, Michael Krazinski, George Washburn, Wm Lichliter, Frank A. Fuss, Roland Tozer, Frank Dees, Russ Pokorny, Jim Gardner, Warren Willsey, Marty Herzog, Jake Herzog, Pastor Jay Francis, Glenn Patterson, Roger Shafer, Mark Traver, Joe Rack, Paul Whitbeck, Paul Guiton, Bob Donnelly, Dave Hodgetts, John Williams, Duncan Bellinger, Lou Schenck, Jack Norray, Gerry Cross, John Jazz, Dick Dexter, Herb Bahrmann, Henry Whipple, Bill Coton, and me.
— Photo from R. Douglas Marshall
Volunteers with the Helderberg Kiwanis stand by the bags full of road trash they picked up.
DELANSON — Ahhhh, Indian Summer: A short, wonderful period of warmer-than-normal, dry, weather that usually occurs after the first frost or freeze. To have this happen right now when the fall foliage is at, or just a little past, peak color, is perfect.
This was a popular topic around the tables at last Tuesday morning's OMOTM breakfast at Gibby's Diner in Delanson/Duanesburg. The warm weather is Mother Nature's gift to all of us this week, at least through Wednesday, and to couple this with the best show of autumn colors in a very long time makes it, well, just great to be alive up here in the mountains and Hilltowns outside of Albany, New York.
I asked my old friend, Mr. Google, exactly where that phrase, Indian Summer, comes from. Turns out, it comes from right here, New England, and not that long ago, late 18th Century. We all know what it is, but no one really knows how it got its name.
One thing for sure, it is not a derogatory term; it is a universally positive term used to describe sort of an unexpected few days of really nice warm, dry weather that usually occurs after the first frost or freeze.
At any rate, just about everybody had a favorite place to view this terrific show. In fact, just looking out the window at Gibby’s Diner was just as spectacular an autumn view as you will find anywhere.
People pay money to go on a bus tour through areas like our Hilltowns. We are so fortunate to live here. It’s our backyard, and we don't have to spend money to see it!
Part of what contributes to the beauty of just driving along our roads is the fact that they are mostly clean of litter by the side of the road.
Regular readers of the OMOTM column in this paper will recall a short series where the volunteer fire departments and rescue squads are so necessary and are always looking for volunteers to help them help their communities. One of those organizations, the Kiwanis Club of the Helderbergs, does many, many projects in and for the betterment of our communities.
I recently joined the club, and found that several members of the OMOTM are active in this Kiwanis Club as well. One of the projects that we do is to pick up the litter alongside a particular stretch of road.
In our case, this stretch is about two-and-a-half to three miles long. So about 10 of us met last week to pick up the litter. Nine out of 10 of us arrived with a wonderful device called a grabber.
This device allows somewhat older folks to pick up stuff without having to bend over each time to grab or pick up a McDonald’s food wrapper that accidentally flew out of a car window and landed by the side of the road.
Notice that I said nine out of 10? Would you care to guess who the 10th person was? I'll give you a hint, he “recently joined the club.”
So there I was, feeling somewhat naked without a grabber, not naked/nude, like the good folks who went for a stroll over at Howe Caverns a couple of weeks ago — I wrote about that, you can look it up. At any rate, off I went to my assigned section of road thinking how hard can this be? There's not too much stuff to pick up.
Let me tell you something, when you really only bend over to put on your shoes in the morning and then once more to take them off at night — it is now five days later and I can still feel each and every time (much, much than two times) I bent down to pick something up!
I was at the OMOTM breakfast this morning and was telling my tale of woe and I started out at each table by asking the question, “Do you know what a grabber is?” Not only did everybody know what it was, but nearly all of them owned one or more!
No one had any sympathy for me. One thing I know for sure, I hope we, at the Kiwanis Club, get a new member who wants to help pick up litter by the side of the road. Do you think I’m going to tell them about the grabber? Not a chance!
On the other hand, it sure did make me feel good to be a part of a volunteer organization, Kiwanis, in this case, that is doing its best to make a positive impact on the people and community where we live, work, and play.
I also felt a little sad that so much litter and stuff accidently flies out of the car window while driving along. I guess the good news is that my fellow volunteers said this fall there was much less litter to pick up. Maybe we are winning.
Next week, I get to write about some of the other topics heard ’round the room, like hunting, pictures of serious fish that were caught over the weekend, the World Series, sports cars, and where were Harold and Wally Guest? So think of them as you read the attendance for this week. Those who were here; Ed Goff, George Washburn, Wm Lichliter, Frank A. Fuss, Ted Feurer, Wyne Gaul, Frank Dees, Jay Williams, Russ Pokorny, Jim Gardner, John R. Williams, Marty Herzog, Jake “Ditto” Herzog, Mark Traver, Glenn Patterson, Joe Rake, Ken Parkes, Roland Tozer, Lou Schenck, Warren Willsey, Jack Norray Dick Dexter, Gerry Cross John Jazz, John Dab, Paul Guiton, Herb Bahrmann, Elwood Vanderbilt, Bob Donnelly, Dave Hodgetts, and me.
MIDDLEBURGH — It does feel more normal to be writing the OMOTM column on Tuesday rather than Friday afternoon. What a gorgeous Tuesday morning, after some valley fog burned off, crisp, blue sky and just about peak color. Now we see some tour buses full of people coming to see the beautiful part of the country we live in.
Now, if we could just get them to come back after one of our two foot nor’easter snowstorms and help dig us out. Probably not going to happen.
Some attrition is starting to take its toll on our attendance. I usually ride with three other OFs in the car with me; Tuesday, I was all by myself. I’ll get one of those riders back in a couple of weeks as he is on vacation now.
The 30 or so OMOTM who gathered at Mrs K’s Kitchen in Middleburgh wanted to know why the OMOTM column was so late. They had only received the email with the column on Sunday. There are a few OFs who don’t have a computer and so were blissfully unaware of all the trials and tribulations of being hacked again and the chain reaction of events that causes.
Part of that discussion led to the bill I was going to get for having my laptop rescued from “lock up.” Usually that situation means that the hacker people want money to unlock your computer and I’m not so sure they ever really do unlock it.
Getting bills for services rendered is not a new thing; sometimes we are somewhat surprised at the amount of the bill. An OF at the table had some dental work done the other day. It was not a big deal involving surgery or anything, and it didn’t take too long. He got the invoice and took a somewhat deeper breath and paid the bill.
Now don’t get me wrong or write letters to the editor. I was in business for my whole working career. Think of the length of time in college a young student has spent learning to become a dentist and be able to put “DDS” after his or her name.
The OMOTM can remember the old-fashioned drills they used before the high-speed drills of today were invented. They cost today’s dentists money they don’t have when just starting out after those years in college.
How about all those tools they use to do the work on our teeth? More money.
How about that special chair we sit in? And the lights, computers, X-rays, office personnel, dental assistant, office rental, payroll, insurance, and on and on. It all adds up. Somebody has to pay those bills.
I am not suggesting that his dentist is worried about his next meal or car payment. It is expensive to be in business. That's why we have insurance. At least some of us have insurance.
As OMOTM, not all of us have adequate dental insurance, and that puts that dental bill in a whole different light. A topic for a different writer writing a whole different kind of article.
I am just trying to make the point: There are usually reasons for the way things are; the OMOTM know that. We have been there and we have done that. We do have to remember that you can’t have today’s services at yesterday’s prices.
Special guest
We did have a special guest join us for breakfast who knows all too well about deadlines missed or being late. (Just how many times can that dog eat your homework/column?)
Our guest was none other than Jim Gardner, past owner for many years and publisher emeritus of The Altamont Enterprise.Why was he here?
Was he sent to check up on me? Is he going to report me? What did I do wrong? Why am I sweating and stammering? I was only three days late with my column last week (and still got it in before my deadline).
After being introduced to Mr. James E. Gardner, I found him to be a nice guy who clearly was enjoying his breakfast with good friends, and was not coming after me. Relieved, my appetite returned and I went back to my seat and enjoyed my breakfast as well.
Heat resistant
As we all know, the OMOTM have a competitive streak a mile wide in them, so it should be to no one’s surprise that the latest contest is to see which OF will last the longest against Mother Nature and her relentless annual attack on warmth.
Needless to say, long pants, flannel shirts, maybe even a wool sock or two are kind of normal attire for at least the start of the day. I went around the tables and asked who had turned on their heating system yet. No one! All 30 members present, not one had succumbed to the chilly mornings of Mother Nature.
Stay tuned; I know how this is going to end. It will end approximately 30 seconds after Mrs. OMOTM says she is cold, and Mr. OMOTM will be so happy to turn the heat on, secure in the knowledge that, although he lost again to Mother Nature, he once again out lasted Mrs. OMOTM by the 30 seconds or so it took him to cross the room and turn on the heat.
It doesn't take much to make an OF happy, heat and warmth is one of those things (and a warm and happy Mrs. OMOTM is another one of those things).
After a nice hot breakfast, the OMOTM who departed Mrs K’s were; Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Ed Goff, Roger Shafer, Wm Lichliter, Pete Whitbeck, Mark Traver, Joe Rack, Ken Parks, Jake Lederman, Ted Feurer, Wayne Gaul, Michael Kruzinski, George Wasburn, Frank Dees, Jim Gardner, Russ Pokorny, Warren Willsey, Jake Herzog, Lou Schenck, Gerry Cross, Duncan Bellinger, Jack Norray, Herb Bahrmann, Bob Donnelly, Alan Defazio, Paul Guiton, John Dab, and me.
As I sit down to write this week’s OMOTM column, I must tell you about a few things going on with your scribe this week. Not the least of which concerns my computer. I was hacked again.
I was in the middle of writing an email to my sister on Sunday when suddenly my computer informed me that it was locked up and I should call the number provided (that number was supposed to go directly to a special Windows department that deals with just this sort of thing and they would help me).
The message went on to tell me not to turn off my computer etc., etc. Well, I’ve been here before, as most of you know, so of course I shut it down without touching or doing anything. It being Sunday, I went about my usual business while waiting for the football games to start.
I called my computer fix-it company on Monday and they came, and took my laptop away. I wasn’t too worried about writing the column as I had plenty of time. Surely I would have my laptop back in time to write the column.
If I didn’t get it back in time, I could always fire up the old PC that my wife and I built nearly 20 years ago.
So here I am, on Friday morning, typing away on that old PC after hooking up the keyboard, mouse, and monitor. The hardest part was remembering the old password and the really hard part is trying to remember how to navigate around the 20-year-old software!
All I need to do is get to the word processor and type the column, then I’ll be ready to scan the column to the laptop when I get it back and send it to The Altamont Enterprise before my deadline. At least that is the plan right now.
At some point, something in this PC is going to fail — hardware, software, something! Nothing is supported anymore, not for at least 15 years. Just holding my breath and typing as fast as I can.
Bug explosion
At any rate, the OMOTM arrived on time at the Middleburgh Diner and your scribe was hoping the scribe emeritus would be there, and he was!
He had emailed me regarding the “Bug” (DoodleBug) that they had on his farm. It had started out its life as a nice family car manufactured by a company called Hupmobile.
When the time came, many years later and having gone through the many different stages in the life cycle of all family cars that lived on the farm up here in the Hilltowns, it became a “Bug.”
In the email to me, the scribe emeritus ended by saying it blew up on the road right in front of their driveway and, being made of mostly wood, it burned up. I couldn’t wait to ask the scribe what he meant by “It exploded.”
He explained to me and the rest of the table that there had been an issue with the original gas delivery system after it became a “Bug.” So there was a homemade system involving a can that held the gas, a small hole in the bottom of the can, and a line to carry the gas to the engine.
It all worked just fine, until it didn’t.
The scribe emeritus sure had a twinkle in his eye and a smile as he told us this memory of one of their “Bugs.” The other OFs at the table? They knew exactly what that memory was all about, and how the homemade gas tank worked and why, and they were not surprised at the rather sudden and spectacular demise of that Hupmobile/Bug.
While talking about the old cars like the Hupmobile, the conversation now turned to the 1950s and 1960s. We were asked to remember back to when it was a big deal when the new models would arrive at the car dealers.
Sometimes the dealers would hide the new cars or cover them up so they could have a big show when they first revealed them to the public. It was a big deal when we could see what the new models looked like and later, a lot of time was wasted in school as we would be looking out the windows waiting to see that new Ford or ’57 Chevy drive past.
Smorgasbord of topics
The morning conversations were not all limited to cars and Bugs. How about baseball and those Amazing Mets? They made the playoffs! On the last day, at the end of the game. Maybe we will have another subway series where they will lose to the New York Yankees in seven games.
Diets and weight loss were discussed at one of the tables. One OF said he had a grandson who was a vegan who runs ultra-marathons, which instantly prompted one OF (who is notorious for being politically incorrect) to tell us where the word “vegetarian” came from. The OF said it is an old Indian word meaning “Bad Hunter”
With that dubious bit of attempted humor let see who made it to breakfast on Oct. 1 at the Middleburgh Diner: Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Ed Goff, Wm Lichliter, George Washburn, Frank Fuss, Pete Whitbeck, Roland Tozer, Jim Austin, Frank Dees, Jake Herzog, Jack Norray, Dick Dexter, Gerry Cross, Warren Willsey, Russ Pokorny, John Williams (scribe emeritus), John Jaz, Lou Schenck, Herb Bahrmann, and me.
DUANESBURG — This Tuesday, Sept. 25, we gathered at Chris’s Chuck Wagon Diner in Duanesburg. That is kind of confusing to some of us because right across Route 20 is the Princetown Evangelical Presbyterian Church. Maybe Route 20 is the boundary between Princetown and Duanesburg.
If you think that is a little confusing, how about Gibby’s Diner, also in Duanesburg, or is it in Quaker Street, just next down the street on the Duanesburg Road (Route 7) from the Quaker Street Volunteer Fire Department?
Not a problem; the OMOTM know where the good food is and we never make a mistake as to where we are supposed to be.
When we entered The Chuck Wagon, we were greeted with our usual cups of coffee. Sometimes the coffee arrives at our seats before we do.
Ron knows where we sit because we are creatures of habit and pretty much sit at the same table, in the same chair, every time. At any rate, this week, we were also greeted with a couple of birthday cards to sign.
Another young man is celebrating his birthday! This particular young man was probably in the Army when I was born, and I am 81 years old.
Elwood Vanderbilt has had “Happy Birthday” sung to him 97 times, but never as poorly sung as what occurred this time! The OMOTM are a lot of things, and we do many of them very well. Singing, however, is not one of them. We are awful.
Number one, we can’t find the right note with both hands; number two, we don't even start at the same time. No, this is not a 30-part harmony, and for those who can find the right note, it is hard to sing it on key with a mouth full of delicious pancakes.
But three things in our favor: one, we are enthusiastic; two, we know the words (we all have heard them just a few times); and we are sincerely happy for one of our own. Happy birthday, Elwood!
In addition to all that, Chris, the owner, and Ron, the coffee man, and the rest of the crew at the Chuck Wagon provided us with a birthday cake to help with our celebration. Of course, we were alone at the time because all the regular customers at the Wagon fled in terror when we started to sing.
One of our OFs, when asked about his singing abilities, replied that he must have “missed school the day they taught singing!”
Raising cane
We did welcome back another one of our own, who just had a hip-replacement operation and is looking good. In fact, he was insisting that his cane was, in fact, really the hind leg bone of an ancient and now extinct sub group directly related to today's llamas.
He claims he found this old leg bone while on safari in Africa, which is a good trick since llamas are found in South America. That’s OK, because this particular OF is a politician and sometimes is known to mix up his tall tales.
Besides that, his cane looked a lot more like the bone from the right front leg of an alpaca that died of old age from a ranch in Colorado in the 1700s.
Doodlebugs
Last week, we talked about “doodlebugs” — what they were, why they were, how they were made and by whom. Well, that story sort of continued down a couple of different paths this week.
To refresh last week’s information about what they were: They were homemade farm tractors made from just about anything that ran with a combustion engine. Regular farm tractors were in short supply so the farmers took any old car and modified the heck out of it and created a serviceable farm tractor.
That’s the short version of what they were, who made them, and why.
This week, some stories about some of the fun and games that developed around these doodlebugs were passed around. They indeed were used for the purpose they were made for, and did a good job of it.
Just about every OMOTM who grew up on the family farm here in the Hilltowns had a doodlebug or knew all about them. Regular readers of this column know full well that this scribe didn’t grow up on a farm here in the Hilltowns and therefore certainly didn’t know anything about a doodlebug.
As y’all also know, he has a tendency to ask his friend, Mr. Google, about nearly anything. So he did.
The first thing he found out is that there is a bug that, when it crawls around, leaves a trail behind it that, when observed, looks pretty much like someone’s doodles. Thus, the doodlebug.
This wasn’t what this scribe was expecting and he dug a little deeper and found the slang version of the doodlebug described last week. OK, that was better. This week brought forth some tales of some of the other uses and experiences having to do with the bug.
One of these was really just an extension of one of the jobs on the farm that the doodlebugs did, and that was pulling or carrying stuff from here to there. Not too surprising, somebody would say that his bug was faster, or stronger, or whatever, so naturally some friendly competition was initiated, complete with rules and everything.
How much weight could your doodlebug drag? Your front wheels couldn’t lift off the ground; you could only go fast; etc. Wintertime sports involving ice and snow, these men knew how to work hard and they knew how to play hard as well.
Not much has changed, except there are not many doodlebugs around anymore, except for the kind that leaves a trail behind, like a doodle.
Time to doodle over to the attendance list for this week: Wally Guest, Harold Guest, George Washburn, Pete Whitbeck, Jim Austin, Frank A. Fuss, Wm Lichliter, Wayne Gaul, Ted Feurer, Marty Herzog, J. Darrah, Jake Herzog, Roger Shafer, Mark Traver, Joe Rack, Warren Willsey, Russell Pokorny, Gerry Chartier, Paul Guiton, Rev. Jay Francis, Lou Schenck, John Dab, Jack Norray, Dick Dexter, John Jaz, Gerry Cross, Elwood Vanderbilt, Bob Donnelly, Dave Hodgetts, Herb Bahrmann, and me.