Editor’s note: The scribe is under the weather this week so we’re running a never-before-printed column on the Sept. 30 breakfast and hope he is shining like the sun again soon.
SLINGERLANDS — Thirty-seven degrees this morning. That just about tells you all you need to know about the weather.
We did manage to arrive at the Windowbox Café on time and were greeted by Bob, the owner, outside looking at the classic, very early 1950s, Hudson automobile. So we stayed outside with him. Bob is also the chief cook and bottle washer; as long as he was outside, he wasn’t inside cooking anything for anybody!
But it sure was nice to take a moment to appreciate this fine old classic car. The OF who owns it had it so clean and shined up it would glow in the dark!
We did go inside; we made Bob get back to work against his wishes. We said hello to the other OFs who were already there and our waitress brought the ever-present coffee, and the conversations about old cars and engines versus new cars and engines started right away. As usual.
Another OF arrived on his motorcycle so naturally a new conversation promptly started about motorcycles. Of course the first conversation didn't stop or even slow down; the noise level just went up some more.
About that time someone commented about the brand new Corvette sitting out in the parking lot. Yup, another conversation started going about even bigger, faster sports cars (and the price tags that go with them) which of course got the OFs with their classic sports cars in which you must wear the classic English “Flat Cap,” or, if you are in Ireland, you would call it a “Paddy Cap.”
By the way, the Flat Cap originated in northern England. The things you learn while at breakfast with the OMOTM is amazing.
Boat-ramp
challenges
To change the subject entirely, even abruptly, without warning or even with an appropriate segue to ease this column’s transition from cars and motors old and new, all the way to observations witnessed at a local boat launch this weekend. I happened to be at the boat launch to help a fellow OF take his pontoon boat out of the lake.
There are some jobs that simply require more than one person to accomplish. This was one of those times.
If there is only one of you, how can you get both your truck and boat trailer to the boat launch and your boat there at the same time? If you drive your truck and trailer first, then you are faced with the prospect of getting back to your boat, which is across the lake and at the other end.
Or, if you bring the boat to the launch first, you must find a way to go get the trailer, which, of course, is across the lake at the other end. You must have a second person to either drive the boat to the launch, or drive the truck and boat trailer over to the launch. Or, if you are going to do all the driving of both boat and truck, you need someone to at least provide your transportation from place to place.
OK, now that we have all the players at the boat launch, it is time to actually put the boat on the trailer and go home. This is where the fun and games start to happen. Or rather, this is when we start to separate the men from the boys, or the rookies from the pros.
Exactly, how good are you at backing that boat trailer straight down that boat ramp? At some point at this particular boat ramp, you lose sight of your trailer because it is going down the ramp and you are still up high on level ground. All you can see in your mirror, or out the back window, is air and the water in the distance. No trailer.
If you are a rookie, about now is when someone is yelling at you to stop backing up because your boat trailer is now in sight at a right angle to your car or truck. They are telling you to go forward and start over again.
If you are lucky, after you have tried a couple of times, a nice person will ask if they could help you. Now is the time that you swallow your rookie pride and quickly say, “Yes! Thank you!” and get out of the way.
The next question you have is, “How far does the trailer go into the water?”
Never mind, the guy backing the trailer down the ramp knows.
Then comes, “How do I line this boat up with the trailer and then get the boat all the way on?” Winch? What’s that? How does that work? You mean I have to get wet?
Don’t worry if there is a line starting to form, waiting for you to get your boat out, and not all of them are smiling. A couple of them will step forward and offer to help, and your response is the same as before, “Yes! Thank you!” and get out of the way.
In short order, your boat is securely on the trailer and up on dry level land and those nice people are telling you not to worry.
They are saying, “Don’t worry, we have all been there, every last one of us. We are not rookies now, but each and every one of us was a rookie at one time or another and we are laughing at our own memories, not of what just happened to you.”
You can laugh at yourself next year, or maybe when you get home today.
By the way, the OF and I got his boat out in a matter of minutes. After all, we are not rookies, we are the OMOTM, and pros at the boat ramp!
More boat ramp stories in the future, but it is time for the attendance list: Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Ed Goff, Roland Tozer, Wm Lichliter, Jim Austin, Pete Whitbeck, Frank Dees, Russ Pokorny, Chuck Batcher, Gerry Chartier, Lou Schenck, Jake Herzog, Pastor Jay Francis, Elwood Vanderbilt, Bob Donnelly, Dave Hodgetts, Alan DeFazzio, Henry Whipple, Gerry Cross, Jack Norray, John Jaz, Dick Dexter, and me.
MIDDLEBURGH — I have no idea if the OMOTM’s ride to the Middleburgh Diner witnessed another beautiful sunrise or not on Oct. 7. I was asleep — finally. Sometimes even the wise ol’ Men of the Mountains do some stupid things. Like wearing out. We forget who we are. We are the OMOTM, emphasis today on the word “old.”
Yes, old, not young. Old folks just physically cannot do what young folks can do. We kid ourselves sometimes by saying things like, “I can still do that, maybe for not as long as I used to, but I can still do it for a while.”
Part of that faulty thought process is the total lack of consideration given to those three little words, “for a while.” Define that.
It makes no difference what we used to do in comparison to what we did 50 years ago. If we worked in an office and never broke a sweat (unless we were nervous) or if we labored outdoors doing heavy lifting hour after hour, we just cannot do at 80 years old what we used to when we were 30 years old.
Sure, the guy doing the heavy, strenuous, sweaty work was always stronger than the pencil pusher, but can he do it now? Not a chance. Can the pencil pusher put in three or four consecutive 20-hour days meeting a deadline? Nope, not anymore.
But we forget those facts, and when we do, there is a price to pay. Always a price to pay.
My daughter and son-in-law bought me an electric lawn mower a couple of years ago. It is really nice and light (and quiet) and does a fine job mowing the lawn.
Except I have to push it! It is not self-propelled like the mower I was using.
Now, in fairness to everyone, what’s the terminology that is always used today? “With full disclosure” or something like that, the old mower was a really heavy, noisy, gasoline-powered, self-propelled piece of equipment that should have found its way to the junkyard long ago.
Not only with all those negatives going for it, the self-propelled part of that mower did, in fact, leave for the junkyard for defunct self-propelled lawn mower transmissions a long time ago. The only time I did not have to help (read push) this old heavy mower was when it was going downhill on the driveway!
The new electric mower is so light, I can hang it up on the wall. Much, much better. Still, pushing it around mowing the lawn for the best part of an hour, takes its toll on my own self-propelled transmission, my legs.
Then off I go to an OMOTM breakfast, followed the next evening by a Kiwanis meeting, followed by a hearing-aid appointment. (I don't think they were all that interested in tweaking my existing hearing aids as they were in selling me new very expensive ones — not going to happen.)
Then I found out that an old friend from high school and an Albany area businessman had passed away. That kind of makes us OFs take pause and do some reflecting. Takes a little something out of us that is not coming back. We truly are diminished each time it happens.
A little humorous side to that is that, for a couple of years now, I have been successful in my efforts at losing some weight, the results of which is now manifesting itself with my sport coats looking like tents on me! So off I went to Albany to have some major alterations done! It will be ready in time.
Then I went to see the optometrist because my eyes are killing me. They hurt. They are itchy, scratchy, blurry and I have trouble seeing the words I type clearly on the monitor or when I’m reading a book. After a while it wears on you.
The optometrist gave me a script and said my eyes would feel much better in two days. He was right, I am two-and-a-half days into a five-day program and my eyes are, in fact, much better.
Did I mention that I got a flu shot and my COVID shot at the same time as all this was going on? I did. I have never had any kind of a negative reaction from these shots and I have had them together before. I don’t even get a sore arm.
So I really don’t know where I got the tired-out, sleepy, weak-as-a-kitten legs that didn’t want to work, eyes that couldn’t see, ears that couldn’t hear, being sad about friends no longer here, clothes that don't fit, but I do have my OMOTM friends!
After a totally terrible night’s sleep on Monday night, the last thing I remember was looking at the clock at 6 a.m. and thinking how happy I was that the OF I car pool with was not in town because he is on a family vacation and therefore I didn’t have to pick him up. So I smiled and said to myself, “Not day OMOTM, not today. Mother Nature has shut me down.”
The next thing I knew, it was two or three hours later and the phone was ringing. One of the OFs I work closely with each week was calling to check up on me and to tell me he had the attendance list and would email it to me.
He told me I was the topic of conversation. I can imagine what was being said; “Where is he? Is he sick? He is not where he usually sits. Is he OK? What do we do with the attendance list? Who’s gonna write the OMOTM column? (That one is easy to answer, get John Williams!)”
Those OFs who mixed concerns about me and concerns about breakfast at the Middleburgh Diner were Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Ed Goff, Miner Stevens, Roland Tozer, Wm Lichliter, Pete Whibeck, Jim Austin, George Washburn, Duncan Bellinger, Jamey Darrah, Gerry Cross, Jack Norry, Lou Schenck, John Jaz, Herb Bahrmann, Pastor Jay Francis, Al Schager, Frank Dees, Russ Pokorny, Warren Wilsey, Gerry Chartier, and not me.
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.