— Photo from Mike McCagg of BOCES
Alyssa Lawyer, Mrs. K’s granddaughter, is studying culinary arts at BOCES so that she can eventually run the family business in Middleburgh. “I plan to go to work for my grandmother’s restaurant — Mrs. K’s Kitchen — on Main Street. One day, I hope to take it over,” she said. The Old Men of the Mountain had breakfast at Mrs. K’s on Jan. 21 as part of their regular rotation.
MIDDLEBURGH — “How far below zero was the temperature at your house?” This was the prevailing question that opened most of the conversations around the tables at Mrs. K's Kitchen on this very cold Tuesday morning, Jan. 21.
Of course there was one OF who insisted that this wasn’t cold. The rest of his sentence started with, “I remember when, back in ’35, when it was minus 10 degrees for a month!” And the tall tales began again around the tables. The OMOTM are really good at this form of entertainment.
It also led to some age-old questions, such as, “Why is it that my snowblower starts with one pull when there is no snow on the driveway, and then my arm will fall off before it starts up on a cold snowy morning?”
Another question about the relative merits of using dry gas in a snowblower resulted in a rather complicated bunch of answers until some OFs mentioned that you should also have regular gas in combination with the dry gas. That led to a discussion of what ratio of dry gas to regular gas, etc., etc.
Here in the mountains and Hilltowns outside of the valley, the OMOTM enjoy the popular driving pastime of trying to avoid hitting things, like deer. One OF told the story of how this past week, while driving down in the flatlands, in the suburb of Guilderland, heading west just past the only stoplight and gas station, he managed to lose the game in a rather spectacular fashion.
He hit not one, but two deer at the same time! A buck and a doe.
The buck bounced off his fender and landed on its back in the middle of his hood, slid off onto the ground, got up, looked around for the doe. She had also bounced off the fender but did not fly upside down to land somewhere on his car; instead, she just had the wind knocked out of her.
She fell down, got her breath back, and continued running off between two houses. The buck saw her and was last seen chasing after her. Our OF was now shaking his head as he examined his beat up fender and dented hood.
He was heard to mutter, “I wasn’t expecting that to happen in a residential neighborhood.” (Having grown up in Delmar and Slingerlands, I could have told him a few stories, especially if some of your neighbors had an apple tree!)
Getting back to the conversations about cold weather, a few sorta related topics ensued. Thermostats and heating systems was one of these topics. When I moved into my house, I was impressed by the heating system that the previous owners had installed.
The house came with a high efficiency (plus 95 percent) liquefied petroleum gas boiler using both hot-water baseboard and radiant heating systems. I have heating zones, which I really like.
I can keep the two small guest bedrooms very cool in the winter, and my bedroom is also cool. In the loft where my computer is located, I keep it nice and warm as well as the main rooms downstairs. Programmable thermostats control these zones.
It is not a big house, just a bunch of smaller rooms that are the result of adding this or that over the years from when the house started out its life as a small two-bedroom camp on Warner’s Lake in 1952.
I have these wiz-bang thermostats that I have no idea how to program, so I am constantly adjusting them trying to save money. Looking at my latest heating bill, my efforts are not working. Not even close. With all this great equipment, my heating bills should make me the envy of the neighborhood. Nope.
Most of the rest of my OMOTM friends are in the same place as me. I think most of them have older thermostats and just leave them alone. Good idea, I’ll get there shortly, just as soon as I forget that I used to be smart about these things. At the rate I’m going, that should be sometime next week.
Silver King
A few months ago I wrote a column that involved an old farm tractor that had three wheels and was called a Silver King. One of the OMOTM, Joe Rack, gave me a very nice detailed metal image of the Silver King about two inches long by one and a half inches high.
It is like something you might put on the refrigerator door except it is not a magnet. It looks like it may have been made to hold the keys to the tractor. (I don't even know if they used keys in those days. I’ll ask.)
Anyway, I have it. Now I am wondering if Joe was just showing me what the three-wheeled Silver King looked like, or if he meant for me to keep it.
I can just imagine how he might have felt when I walked away with it. Probably thinking or muttering out loud, “How the hell did that happen? I was just showing him what that tractor he wrote about looked like, and he kept it!’”
Joe, I promise, I'll be at the Your Way Cafe next week and give it back to you if I did make a huge mistake.
Those OMOTM who didn't make a mistake about getting together at Mrs. K’s Kitchen were: Wally Guest, Harold Guest, Ed Goff, Hon. Albert E. Raymond, Jamey Darrah, Michael Kruzinski, Roland Tozer, Frank A. Fuss, Mark Traver, Joe Rack, Glenn Patterson, Wm Lichliter, George Washburn, John Jaz, Gerry Cross, Jack Norray, Herb Bahrmann, Dick Dexter, Lou Schenck, John Williams, Russ Pokorny, Warren Willsey, Jim Gardner, Bob Donnelly, Elwood Vandererbilt, Dave Hodgetts, John Dab, Paul Guiton, and me.
MIDDLEBURGH — The OMOTM traveled to the Middleburgh Diner on Jan. 14 and I enjoyed my waffle with one egg over easy and two link sausages and plenty of good hot coffee. I waited a whole week for that waffle, and it did not disappoint. Ordering the waffle did start another conversation about “real” maple syrup and the “other” maple syrup.
That conversation started me thinking about asking one of the proprietors of one of the several establishments here in the Hilltown area that make, or rather, produce “real” maple syrup to join the OMOTM for a free breakfast and give us a short talk on how the process works.
Just for my own information, I asked my old friend, Mr. Google, what do you call a place that makes maple syrup. To quote Mr. Google, “A place that makes maple syrup is called a sugar house, sugar shack, or sugar cabin. The process of making maple syrup is called sugaring.”
I know that early each spring, this industry gets its act together and goes to work and that several of them are open to the public for tours or at least encourage the public to visit to learn about the maple-syrup-making process and by the way, they will even sell you some new maple syrup fresh from their own “sugar shack.”
I even thought I might revive an old OMOTM custom of an occasional field trip, and visit the sugar shack of our speaker when it is in operation this spring. We shall see.
The Beer Fridge
A topic of refrigerators came up at one of the tables. Not new ones. Old ones that still work but are no longer able to handle the requirements of a growing family or maybe it is just time for a model that has an ice maker.
I don’t mean just four or five ice cube trays that don’t even match, I mean a real ice-cube maker, or how about a cold-water dispenser, or maybe you are tired of looking at that 25-year-old avocado-colored refrigerator that just keeps working and will not die.
Maybe you would just settle for a new frost-free refrigerator, painted in a new modern color, that you don’t have to manually defrost anymore.
Whatever the reason, you now have an old refrigerator that still runs and you just can’t bring yourself to throw it out. What to do with it?
Give it to the kids? That's a good idea. But sometimes they are not too excited about your 25-year-old avocado refrigerator that once held baby pictures of them, held on the door with magnets. Don’t get mad or upset with your daughter or daughter-in-law when you find out that they are not bashful about expressing their negative opinion, in a polite way, of course.
So, in the meantime, the old fridge has been relegated to the garage and somehow, some way, magically and thoroughly mysteriously, a six-pack of beer has appeared inside, and it is cold! Soon after, a couple six-packs of soda and three more six-packs of beer are in there to replace the original six-pack that didn’t last long.
Thus, The Beer Refrigerator is born! Soon that extra milk is there. Leftover turkey from Thanksgiving finds its way to the Beer Fridge in the garage. Some frozen food also arrives in the top freezer.
When you can't find it, or any food item for that matter, someone is going to use the new household phrase, “Did you check the beer fridge in the garage?”
Now, some beer refrigerators are found in the basement next to the workshop or washer and drier, where, if you are exceptionally lucky, the colors match!
Now that old refrigerator you couldn’t give away, has once again risen in stature to the prominence it once held, albeit, it is now in the basement or garage. It is indispensable! You can’t live without the old beer fridge. Then, the inevitable happens, it dies. Finally.
It is now a crisis! You are not going to buy another new refrigerator. The new one is still new. But you have to act promptly. Maybe someone, who doesn’t know the value of a beer refrigerator, has an old, perfectly good refrigerator they want to get rid of fast.
Just give them a couple of bucks and go take it off their hands and put it right where your old beer fridge was. Who cares if the door opens the other way? You can fix that. Yeah, I know, the color is wrong, but nobody cares! It’s a beer refrigerator! We are back in business. Life is good.
I did a quick survey of the OFs present at the Middleburgh Diner on Tuesday morning to see how many had a beer refrigerator. I was surprised to find the ratio was around 60 percent to 40 percent against having a beer refrigerator.
I was expecting a ratio of about 80 percent to 20 percent in favor of having a beer refrigerator. Could this be a phenomenon that we age out of? Could be. Food for thought. Another column, another time. I'll ask my friend, Mr. Google; he knows everything. I'll let you know.
All this talk about beer has made me thirsty. I think I’ll go out to the garage and open the beer fridge and see if I can find a beer behind the extra milk, lettuce, potatoes, soda, etc. Those OMOTM joining in this discussion Tuesday morning were: Harold Guest, Wally Guest, Ed Goff, Hon Albert Raymond, Roland Tozer, Frank A. Fuss, Marty Herzog, Jamey Darrah, Wm Lichliter, George Washburn, Russ Pokorny, Frank Burns, Jack Norray, Herb Bahrmann, Gerry Cross, John Jazz, Dick Dexter, Lou Schenck, and me.
DUANESBURG — Tuesday morning was just what we would expect for a Jan. 7 morning in the Hilltowns outside of Albany. It was dark and cold (single digits) with snow flurries.
What we didn’t expect was the wind. It howled all day right through the night into an equally dark, and cold rest of the week. Except for the wind, welcome to a January winter in the mountains and Hilltowns in upstate New York.
The OMOTM gathered at Chris’s Chuck Wagon Diner at the appointed hour for our usual good fellowship, good hot coffee, and great food. I was all set to order a waffle, with an egg and link sausage when Chris announced that the waffle-maker machine was under the weather and therefore there would be no waffles today. So I settled for my usual order of a cheese-and-sausage omelette with an English muffin.
Now for an OMOTM love story.
The room had quieted down, as it always does, while we attacked our breakfasts. All except one table. They were rather noisy the whole time with much laughter.
This particular table held some pretty important OMOTM in the form of our Scribe Emeritus John Williams, two other long-time OFs present were Pastor Jay Francis and Harold Guest and the fourth member at the table was Wally Guest.
This love story is about how Harold met and wooed Arline, his wife of 65 years.
Harold was 17 years old and Arline was 16 years old. They both went to Middleburgh High School and were in the same class.
Arline’s family lived in the town of Broome in Schoharie County while John also lived in a small town also in Schoharie County, Huntersville I think. As fate would have it, Arline’s family home was destroyed in a fire that fall and the family subsequently ended up moving much closer to where Harold lived. So now they were in the same class in the same school and lived pretty close to each other.
Not only did Harold think Arline was pretty nice, but so did his older brother. So Harold had to fend him off while he pursued Arline. He was successful in discouraging his brother.
Exceeding six feet, Harold is a substantial man today and I am sure that very few boys would want to be on his wrong side back in those days, even a brother!
As the holiday season approached, Harold wanted to give Arline a Christmas present she would never forget and would never forget who gave it to her. Keep in mind, this was a 17-year-old boy trying to buy a special gift for his 16-year-old girlfriend while they were in high school.
There was a department store in Middleburgh at that time called Strongs. Harold, having made his decision as to what he wanted his gift to be, went to the store and talked to a lady (the owner?) about what he wanted.
She said she had exactly what he wanted and off they went up to the ladies’ department on the third floor. Sure enough, they picked out the perfect gift and the lady even gift-wrapped it for him! Good thing she did because, if Harold had wrapped it, it probably would have looked like a small version of a Charlie Brown Christmas tree wrapped with two miles of scotch tape!
Arline’s family included a married older sister whose husband was a bit of, in Harold’s words, “a live wire,” sort of a fun guy to be around with a great sense of humor. In fact, I think that knowing Harold and his son Wally today, both the families were blessed with a fine sense of humor. Good thing.
The gift.
It is now Christmas morning and everyone is opening their presents. The moment of truth has arrived. With all eyes upon her, Arline opened Harold’s special gift.
It was — wait for it — a very large pair of panties! Way too big for a 16-year-old girl!
So the “live wire” future brother-in-law put them on himself over his own clothes (I told you they were rather large!) and to the delight and laughter of everyone, spent most of the rest of the day walking around wearing Arline’s Christmas present!
I remind everyone again, this was a 17-year-old’s present to his 16-year-old girl friend!
So what happened? It worked! She never forgot the present and more importantly, never forgot who gave it to her.
They dated throughout high school. Got married, and for the next 65 years loved each other as they raised a family of six kids, and had a few laughs along the way. In fact, when Harold told that story at the OMOTM breakfast on Tuesday, we all laughed one more time and shared the moment right along with him.
Those enjoying breakfast at Chris’s Chuck Wagon Diner, with or without panties, were the man of the hour himself, Harold Guest and his son, Wally Guest, Ted Feurer, Jake Lederman, Jake Herzog, Michael Kruzinski, Wm Lichliter, Frank A. Fuss, Hon Albert E. Raymond, Jamey Darrah, John Williams, Lou Schenck, Jack Norray, Gerry Cross, Dick Dexter, John Jaz, Bill Bremmer (visiting from Kansas City), Henry Whipple, Herb Bahrmann, Russ Pokorny, Jim Gardner, Warren Willsey, Frank Dees, Roland Tozer, Glen Patterson, Mark Traver, Joe Rack, Bob Donnelly, Dave Hodgetts, John Dab, Paul Guiton, Pastor Jay Francis, and me.
DUANESBURG — On this last day of the year, with the weather still holding on to temperatures in the mid to low 40s, the OMOTM arrived at Gibby’s Diner on time as usual. I noticed as I walked in to take my regular seat, so did everyone else.
Pretty much all the OMOTM not only sit at the same table at the diner we are at, but we sit in the same chair! I bet you could blindfold us and just tell us which diner we were at, and that we were standing in the doorway, and we could walk to our chair at our table without hitting anyone or any other table!
We OMOTM are a very special and talented bunch of nice guys, except when someone sits in our chair at our table! Talk about instant grumpiness!
Party memories
New Year’s Eve. Brings back memories for all of us. Mostly party memories.
Parties are at the top of that list of memories regarding New Year’s Eve. Parties in high school at someone’s house when we were not old enough to drive. Then we got a little older, not a lot older, just a year or two and the world of where we gathered to have a good time and have a party changed considerably.
We had some really good times. Some good memories. Life goes on and then we have our own families and the responsibilities that go along with those families.
The parties became a little less enthusiastic, not much, but a little. The locations changed as well, maybe a live band and perhaps a little more dancing, a little less drinking.
Evolving resolutions
The idea of making New Year’s resolutions has been a constant part of the new year as much as the parties. These resolutions seldom stood the test of time.
I'm going to lose weight, I'm going to be an “A” student, sort of morphs into resolving to be a better boss, or employee, or stopping smoking (still going to lose weight), gotta save money for college for the kids, save money for retirement.
Now we are part of the OMOTM and our resolutions are very few in number. Staying healthy is right at the top of all of our lists.
The most popular resolution of losing a few pounds has given way to staying healthy, which is expressed most commonly as, “I just want to see what 2026 will bring,” or “I want to put this *!#% COVID in the rearview mirror!” (My older sister and her husband both had to deal with mild cases of COVID this Christmas, which really messed up their holidays.)
Midnight
A few of us still stay up and watch the ball come down. Then we will kiss our better half, and in honor of all those parties past, we pop the cork on a bottle of champagne and drink a toast to each other and all of our friends, past and present.
Then we put the cork back in the bottle and go to bed.
In the morning, we will make mimosas. A good way to kick off the new year.
Not one of us will resolve to lose weight, and we have all stopped smoking a long time ago, so we will look forward to next Tuesday morning and seeing our OMOTM friends at one of the five great diners we meet at for breakfast.
Ice fishing
The last couple of days of this year’s January thaw in December have arrived. The snow is all gone. The lakes are still covered with ice (about an inch thick at most) but no ice fisherman’s shanties are to be found on any of the lakes yet. Ice fishermen are many things; stupid is not one of them.
These men are a hardy bunch of individuals. It takes a special breed of men to stand around a hole in the ice, stamping their feet, drinking hot coffee, hot chocolate, sometimes even a cold beer, waiting for a small flag (I think they are called tip-ups) to spring to life, signaling a fish is down there, waiting to be brought up. A hardy breed indeed.
There are fake ice fishermen however. If I were to indulge in this ice-fishing endeavor, that would be my classification.
I wouldn’t be hard to find. Just look for a pickup truck towing a large shanty out on the ice. The pickup would have a small quiet generator in the bed with enough capacity to provide enough power to heat and light the lights in the shanty, with enough power left over to handle the small TV and laptop.
I would have a couple of comfortable chairs and a small table for the snacks and the beverage of our choice. I may even have a small camping propane stove so I could warm up some chicken-noodle soup or brew a fresh cup of coffee.
I would not go outside to drill a hole in the ice. The shanty would be big enough so I could drill the hole inside the shanty (located under the table so no one would accidentally step in the hole) and I would have windows so I could watch the real ice fishermen out there stamping their feet, trying to stay warm.
I would be smart enough not to ask them to move further away while stamping so as to not scare the fish away from me. Like I said, ice fishermen are not stupid, not even fake ones.
New Year’s Eve found the following OMOTM enjoying breakfast at Gibby’s Diner: Harold Guest, Wally Guest, George Washburn, Wm Lichliter, Michael Kruzinski, Jamey Darrah, Frank A. Fuss, Albert Raymond, Marty Herzog, Warren Willsey, Russ Pokorny, Jim Gardner, Frank Dees, Jake Herzog, Mark Traver, Glenn Patterson, Roger Shafer, Joe Rack, Pastor Jay Francis, Scribe Emeritus John R. Williams, Lou Schenck, Jack Norray, Dick Dexter, John Jaz, Gerry Cross, John Dab, Paul Guiton, Bob Donnelly, Elwood Vanderbilt, Dave Hodgetts, Alan Defazio, and me
The Old Men Of The Mountain wish each other and all of you who read about us in The Altamont Enterprise, Happy New Year!
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.