Dredging up past loves of the vehicular kind

MIDDLEBURGH — On the 17th day of February, we found ourselves at the most southern of our breakfast hangouts, the Middleburg Diner, at the crossroads of Cotton Hill Road and Route 145, heading south out of Middleburg.

From the direction of Berne, you can take the roads over the hills which are either very scenic or very scary, depending on the season, or stick to the longer flatland route through Schoharie. Also, if you are prone to getting lost, on the over-the-hill route, you might like to know that you may lose GPS contact when you are at your most vulnerable.

This diner has a long dining room at one end, which seems just designed for us, with a long table down the middle that accommodates most of us, and a few smaller tables along the side for overflow or later comers. The regular Middleburghers have the advantage here of finding seating at the far other end of the diner where they can enjoy their breakfast in relative peace.

The dredging up of many past loves of the vehicular kind on this day included Kaiser Frazers, Henry Js, Hudsons, Crosleys, Nashes, and Metropolitans. Some were said to have evolved from World War II production lines, reverting back from making tanks to making cars again.

Hitchhiking advice

Further cementing the notion that there is much to be learned from OMOTM, came a very useful tip regarding hitchhiking, which may have been more common in earlier times.

Just standing by the road with a thumb out gives no explanation as to motives, and some might be suspect.

But if you can manage to have an empty gas can in your hand, you may get a lift more readily because your need is easily apparent and can be interpreted as harmless.

Verbal bologna

Bologna and how it should be sliced to please demanding customers at the deli counter gave rise to a further consideration. Verbal bologna was also found to be sliced thin or thick depending on the intent of the slicer or the interpretation of those on the receiving end.

Hilltown genealogy

Exploration of the genealogy of the Hilltowns always inspires speculations around the breakfast table as to who was or is related to whom. Some of us have few or no local relatives, and some are linked by expansive webs of relations.

It seems there may be only a few names it all started from, but the problems begin when some are called to admit to their heritage.

The uniqueness of some of our predecessors is a point of pride, as such characters are just not to be found elsewhere. It could be argued that a lot of this uniqueness survives to this day and around this table.

Harmony at home

Many of our discussions focus on maintaining harmony at home, and also with others and in other situations, of course.

As a guide to maintaining this pleasant state, and keeping in mind how to act when provoked, some of us have considered a list of rules. This is going to be similar to other such lists, but more localized and focused on everyday issues.

“Do not kill” seems obvious and is already covered by those higher-level lists, and maybe subject to copyright laws.

We propose for a first entry: “Stay in your own lane.”

This could perhaps be edict Number 2, given that somebody might come up with a Number 1 that has more gravitas.

Following up on the previous thoughts regarding the web of relations, a candidate for rule one might be, “Don’t disparage anyone since you can’t be sure who is related to whom. Also it just isn’t nice.”  Suggestions for other entries are welcome and will be considered, all in the interest of keeping order.

Plethora

In the discussion of those who are sick or very sick or in hospitals or nursing homes, it seems that there are many of these folks who concern us.

The operative word in this particular discussion was “plethora,” which might be a good word to add to our vocabularies if it isn’t already there.

However, there was yet another concern: Where is the accent in “plethora?”  Is it “PLEthora” or “pleTHORA?”

Not to beat this poor dead horse too much, but it has been suggested that folks who learned this word in conversation may be familiar with the first pronunciation, whereas those who learned the word from their reading, may have chosen the latter. Hence, a possible way to identify the readers among us. This at least distracted us for a time from the real worry about a seeming plethora of our ailing friends.

The right direction

The far reachingness of this column is hard to imagine on most days, but after a comment in a previous edition regarding the relative lack of appreciation in some circles for the heroic efforts of clearing snow, it was reported that yet another spouse has recently taken pictures of an OMOTM clearing snow, expressing, it would seem, recognition of this heroic effort.

This was just to acknowledge a step perceived to be in the right direction.

The Scribe made the comment on this day that new material for this column was always welcome, and indeed, it is. This precipitated an avalanche of amazing insights and observations, some of which will have to keep for a later date.  

Enjoying the warmer weather, but now anticipating ice and slushy driveways, and finding the long room at the Middleburg Diner a great place to share great memories and the exploits of long ago, were Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Ed Goff, Miner Stevens, Will Lickliter, Frank A. Fuss, Robert Schanz, Roland Tozer, Rev. Jay Francis, Al Schager, Warren Willsey, Gerry Chartier, Chuck Batcher, Lou Schenck, John Jaz,  Jack Norray, Gerry Cross, Dick Dexter, and me.