I am finally getting over my two colds in a row (!) [what a way to spend winter break] and so with a box of tissues nearby, I've made progress on winter session, next semester, advisement, and even the village comprehensive plan.

It is cold -- zero etc.

Bob turned a milestone age (55) on January 5 & we celebrated Elwyn style -- Ommegang & Oneonta (stolled Main Street & felt sad once again over Bresee's, stopped at campus and the Autumn Cafe, went to Brooks) on Friday, Yono on Monday. So not a month. but a long weekend.

I felt pretty bad about the French cartoonists being murdered by terrorists. I don't mean "as usual" over these type of sick events. In this case I have always loved drawing satire cartoons, and for a brief period (until a more mature sensibility set in at about age 16) I flirted with the idea of being a cartoonist "when I grew up." I know satire, whether as an illustration or in writing, often pushes people's buttons, and they may react with hostility. But to think they'd machine gun down a whole office. The world can be a scary place, but that's all the more reason to be vigilant about free speech.

I let more time than usual go by from my last post (13 days). I had a draft saved for a week or so, but did not have the inclination to finalize it until today. "Inclination" because really -- lamenting "no time" gets old. I've been wondering lately why I allow myself very little time off from the to-do list? I've been working away on my fall syllabi, even though my second summer class ended on Friday and the grades are not due until tomorrow. So today (and tomorrow) had to be devoted to evaluating. Then back to the fall preparation. I'm hoping to be all ready for classes so that the Beagle proof fence can be finished 8/23-24. Only the gate (and staining about 2/3 of it) to go. I also want to enjoy the trip to Syracuse. I guess it's not completely true, the "no time off" thing. I don't work most weekends. But a weekday off...rare.

I haven't been writing much about my garden because it hasn't been a banner year. Not hot enough and it has rained to much. The stuff is growing, but it's late and I doubt there will be the quantity I'd hoped and that I had some years. I like 80 and comfortable better than 90+ and humid, but tomato plants don't! Some flowers have done well, and herbs of course, but that's it. As a result, a few weeks ago we went to Shaul's Farm in Fultonham and stocked up on bushels and pecks. I made some refrigerator pickles.

Afterwards, we drove out to Oneonta, drove through campus and the city, went to Autumn Cafe and Brooks. We decided that our old dream of retiring there someday (abandoned long ago) is back on the table.

On Thursday, we went to see Jackson Browne at the Palace, and ate dinner at Yono'shttp://www.yonos.com/.  The concert was all acoustic and fabulous. His voice sounds the same as it did 30 years ago. And he had about 25 guitars lined up, switched for almost every song. We had awesome eighth seats. Bob joked that the mean age was 57 -- not a person under 40 was to be seen, aside from a few teens with their parents'.  The highlight of the evening (not) -- the drunken woman who spilled an entire glass of red wine on Bob's sleeve (a brand new LL Bean dress shirt)!

Had a good day! Good = productive. Not in the grading of all those looming essays way...in an around the house way. Worked outside and inside - and took the dogs to the cemetery for a walk. We didn't get any much-needed rain, just a few sprinkles. Neighbors were all very productive too. We got Brooks BBQ from a local church fundraiser, and when we got home from picking it up, Bob put his Pink Floyd station on Pandora while we cleaned. (Not sure if that was because of Brooks or to drown out the chainsaw noise coming through the open windows.) The first song that played was "Wish You Were Here." Well, yeah! This isn't sparked by any recent events btw; that song reminds me every time I hear it of 30 years ago.

I'm surprised when I search here -- ten years of posts -- to find that I have not written a lot about 1982. I have noted the anniversary, or the circumstances briefly from time to time, but not in any depth. This makes me wonder, when it is OK to write about such things in detail? Publicly, I mean, and not as fiction - those complicated relationships and experiences that lack any sort of funny spin, even after many years?

I scanned a lot more, here are a sample:

October 15, 1961, my Christening day. I was several weeks premature (5)? So I was small for a month old.

 It's funny, because most of the time on my birthday -- both as a child and adult -- I have a homemade cake, and that's my preference. But for my first it looks to be store-bought.

 This is at St. Francis DeSales Church in Phoenicia. 

I got the three above in the memory shadowbox my mother gave me for my birthday.

This is Bresee's Health Bar in Oneonta. I'm so glad I found it. Sadly, the Health Bar is no more. Lots of good memories from this place, including lunch there being the last time I saw a friend who died a week later. But that's hardly the only lasting impression, I ate there nearly every day and twice on Thursdays, when Main Street stayed open late. It was the site of many deep college-inspired discussions, also coffee was 25 cents a cup and two homemade cookies were another quarter -- or was it only fifteen cents? Even in the early '80s, that was dirt cheap. They had cream cheese on banana bread with a side of peaches as a daily sandwich choice. Our favorite waitress was named Grace, a tall, thin, aged, sturdy, lovely and kindly Otsego County lady, and she'd worked there for 40 years. RIP Bresee's!

 I liked getting my master's on this campus. Maybe because of its roots as a normal school? Was that a harbinger that eventually I would be teaching?

I have a few different views of Bishop's Falls, including a large framed photograph. This was the spot where they started the Ashokan Reservoir. Wish I could have seen it in the real world!

I'm impressed by the Governor. I say that, even as a state employee whose livelihood is under fire. (Not exactly, since I am behind the university firewall, but as an adjunct I don't have ironclad job security. Not that I'm worried. My professional life is going well.) Anyway, you know what I mean. Public sector is taking hits in private sector fashion and it's hard not to be sensitive to it, especially in the Capital District. Still, I can see why he has such a high approval rating. We are so desperate for leadership, and he has really taken charge, in almost a charismatic way - but more a rational way, not in the nasty manner of Spitzer.

OK, fine. But this issue right here is a heart breaker that rises to the level of deal-breaker.  It's what struck me during the debate, besides the hilarious line up (or have you forgotten rent being too d-mn high et al?). He was going to push fracking! Exempting the NYC watershed of course (and now Syracuse too? What gives? The mayor is a friend or the area is dear to the Lt. Gov's heart? OMG - just now I went to see if I'd written about the debate, and I had - can it be he made a deal with the Green Party and that's the reason?).

I saw the new head of DEC on a show I won't name interviewed by a reporter I don't like (wouldn't want to add to the "fame of the name" by being specific) and he has industry guy written all over him. He said the reason for those two being exempt is that they are the only unfiltered systems in the state and it would be cost prohibitive to filter them. (That was the reason given for restrictions on development in the MOU on the watershed in the past as well.) I wonder if that could be true? The only two? Or how about private wells? The good of the few or the one doesn't matter, ala Star Trek?

I'm thrilled the watershed is exempt - NIMBY and all that - but it is annoying that you just know the exemption is not because of our pristine Catskill towns being precious, but because of NYC. As always. Brings up all those prickly feelings about the loss of our town that have been passed down though the generations.

This reminds me, right now, near the reservoir, the road is a debacle. No one even talks about it, though. So used to it. As a kid, my bus was diverted during a bridge repair and it took a lawsuit to get them moving. After 9/11 the road across the dam was closed - and it has never re-opened. The detour is even more twisty and turny than other roads in that area - it was built more to service the reservoir itself than intended as an option for lots of "thru" traffic. A few tourists have wrapped themselves around trees while riding their donorcycles over the years, and it is a hassle for people going to and from work, especially in the winter. So after nearly ten years the road is being straightened. It is a project that is taking forever, years! and resulted in all sorts of destruction. Currently it is almost impassable. One wonders if it will take another lawsuit for it to be finished.

This weekend is going to be another busy one - that's one of the attributes of summer I suppose. Tomorrow there is the Troy competition - going to support General Joe's BBQ! It's a team of my two nephews plus two friends. (General Joe is my one-year-old grandnephew.) A 12 person van and caravan of cars (if needed) are heading up the Thruway to cast their votes as well.

Vernooykill Falls Mother's Day hike. These folks and more will be in the (cara)van.

Then on Sunday heading to my beautiful central New York - Oneonta! I have been exercising my ankle, hoping to hike Table Rock. The last time I hiked there was during undergraduate days, when I did it many times. I haven't been able to hike since before I sprained my ankle - two years! Bob hasn't either, since his surgery nightmare. I'm "hoping" not because of my ankle, but because of my usual metatarsal arch / foot problem, which is acting up because I need to get a new pair of shoes and maybe an orthotics adjustment. (It is on the agenda for next week.) Bob's been having a RA flare in his knees but he is looking forward to (maybe) doing it too, so we'll see. If we can't hike, it will be a disappointment, but that's OK, a walk on Main Street and campus will suffice.

Watkins Glen State Park

It is looking like I will miss haying again this year, at least the first half of the field. Right now is the longest stretch of no rain in a while, and so hayin' is on the agenda (for those in the 12 person van and caravan of cars) for Sunday.

Anyway! This was a stream of consciousness! Join me in telling the governor no fracking! (That word! So tempting! I can hardly keep from writing various puns and vulgarities but it would be too easy.) I know the financial circumstances are difficult right now, but land and water are precious and cannot be replaced.

The view from Overlook

Almost finished with grades - but not quite, will have to work several hours tomorrow. (It's still Sunday to me; I am in summer owl mode.) I receive daily emails from students asking for their grade. My answer is always the same: they will be available. 12 noon Tuesday 5/17 (that's the university's common date / time). My deadline from the Registrar is Monday 5/16 11:59 pm and believe me, I need every minute! I announced this several times at the end of the semester in every class, and posted it on the home page of each course's blackboard site, but still the emails dribble in. Some even acknowledge what I said about when final grades would be ready, but ask anyway.


Speaking of birds (I mentioned owl mode), we watched The Black Swan tonight. Before this, I had no desire to see it for some reason. (That isn't really like me, generally I want to see the Oscar nominated movies.) We were standing there at red box, and another couple was right behind us. Both of us hate to be rushed (tailgated, as we say), so I said, "why don't you go ahead of us?" They did, and while they were browsing the movies, we were discussing the new releases that are pictured on the machine. The Black Swan was one, and I (loudly) whispered that I wasn't interested in it. They guy who was reviewing the movie selections looked up and said it was one of the best movies he'd ever seen! We must have acted as if we were going to choose it, because at that point they said, "why don't you get your movie first?" Maybe they felt pressured by tailgating too? So I felt kind of obligated to get his suggestion.


After watching it, I would describe it as an art movie, but not really an entertaining movie - to me there is a difference. It left me feeling the way Ingmar Bergman movies do. Not that it was similar to one of his movies, but I am always so tense and anxious while watching them (and for a while afterwards). That is the same sensation I had tonight. I can see why Natalie Portman won best actress. She nails it, but her character isn't a bit likable. Nor is it a sympathetic portrait of ballet dancers. They are shown to be uptight, backstabbing, vindictive, mentally ill, anorexic, among other unflattering things. I imagine dancers hated this movie.

It's sort of funny what "art" brings to mind. Back in Oneonta, I was in a writing group. Our goal was to create radio plays. I was invited to join by my writing tutor, who had been an editor. I remember when I first met him, he thought I was a dancer, not a writer. I don't mind dancing (and I even won a contest at about that time), but I am not sure why he had that impression. I suppose it must have been the Danskin leotards and Chinese shoes I wore all the time (although those were very common fashions). Or perhaps I was graceful, in those days before orthotics and walking with a cane?

On Saturday, coming back from Cortland, we stopped in Oneonta. Why experience the new semester at two colleges, and not at our alma mater? They started up a week ago, so students were already settled in. I don't think we've been to Oneonta when classes were in session for quite a while. After visiting the Union, we went downtown and walked around. I'm happy to report Main Street is much more vital than what I wrote here.

We ended our visit with a trip to Brooks - no trip to Oneonta is complete without it!

Must be obvious by now that I have a lot more time to write here. My posting decreases to a trickle when I have a lot of other demands. I expected to be away this weekend, but it turns out I am home. I do have a lot of stuff I plan to do (the garden!!) but since it isn't beastly hot today, my office is very pleasant, and so the PC was calling. (Not that gardening is better at 90 degrees...
hmmm...rethink that maybe? Nah...)

A couple of weeks ago we attended a retirement party for a favorite professor of ours from undergraduate days. I wanted to make him something for the event, and so I went through a stack of old notebooks from that time. (Yes, I still have most of my college notebooks and even a few from high school, stored among cobwebs and dust on a shelf in the stairwell.) I photocopied some of the pages of notes, mostly things he said about the readings that were discusssed in class, found some pictures of campus and made a big card out of a new notebook.

During that process, I skimmed through several of my old journals. I was a prolific writer at that time. (Not that I don't write quite a bit now, but aging and years of education have changed my style.) I scribbled down journal entries, short stories and fragments, poetry, all sorts of observations, and illustrated some of them too.

Some things amused me, jumped out at me, things that I want to document electronically. I am not sure whether paper ephemera or its electronic cousin will last longer. Will I still be able to access this in 30 years? Some of Elwyn's diaries are 100 years old and they aren't in bad shape.

Anyway, here's a sample...

April 18, '78

We got a new television today, so we watched the Holocaust in real color instead of the pea-soup green that our other television broadcast in. My father hooked it up between commercials. It made us all feel really good to see a TV ad about two minutes later which said, “Panasonic is better than SONY…Panasonic is better than RCA…Panasonic is better than Zenith!” ‘cause our new TV is a Zenith.

August 31, ‘81

Today’s Chuckle: How not to do it

“My dear,” he said, “that’s a poetic name!”

“Thank you,” she replied, emotionlessly.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you have a moustache?” he asked.

“I think I’ve heard this routine before," she replied, leaving.



September 2, '81

“Please listen to what I’m not saying.”

“Don’t expect anything and you’ll never be disappointed.”

October 9, '82

As soon as I reached the age of reason, I rushed for the tweezers and plucked out practically all of my eyebrows. Or maybe that should be “eyebrow,” because I was, after all, only born with one.

Maybe it is time to join our “rebellious” sisters and let our hair all grow out. Truly, I despise the society which made sleek, smooth calves the prerequisite for femininity. But I am not among those who can break from tradition and proudly display what nature has given me intact. I admire those women, but I am somewhat too susceptible to popular opinion.

Undated

“I’m not a native,” she confided, and I smiled a little, because this statement puzzled me. “No, she continued, “I didn’t come here until I was married.” Then I was really amused, because Mimmie was born and raised in West Hurley, a town twelve miles south of where she now lives, though outside of our town borders. A trivial thing to someone not from the Catskills, but for a resident of my hometown, that meant you weren’t a native.

To me, though born and raised in the town of Olive, West Hurley is close enough. At my present location, some 85 miles northwest of where that conversation took place, I often encounter people who consider me still living in my area. As I enter my final year here, it is with regret that I acknowledge my time here is nearing an end.

In 1978, I viewed things somewhat differently. Oneonta, considered home to me now, seemed a booming metropolis, unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. And indeed, from the vantage point of a girl raised in West Shokan, a mountainous hamlet boasting a population of 300, Oneonta’s side-walked streets and hilly surroundings filled me with fear, and longing to be back in the community which was familiar to me.

The other students surprised me, the majority of whom were from New York City and the metropolitan area. They considered Oneonta a boring “hick” town, a cultural vacuum, and a number of other uncomplimentary adjectives. I recalled that my mother once confided, “if anyone ever asks me ‘how can you live in this little hick town?’ I always reply “well, I am a hick! And I’m proud of it!”

I was proud, too. I challenged anyone in my dorm to display more town pride than I.

My mother’s family had lived in my town - well, for generations. (My grandmother, though, as I wrote before, doesn’t consider herself a native.) My father can’t claim that status either...for a very real reason. He’s only been a resident for 35 years or so (!), the place of his birth being Philadelphia.



Mimmie's recipe notebook, from 1926

Very interesting site, this is a post about removing the Bresee's facade in Oneonta.

Update: I'm happy the building is being renovated, I believe in restoration, but still sad to see the facade's no more.

Thursday Threesome: Name that Tune

Onesome: Name-- Ah, what about names? How did your blog name come to be? Is there a story there?

The Gully Brook is a little stream at the farm in Samsonville. It runs behind my house.

Twosome: that-- and this. We've all thought about a change of locations from time to time: is there any place you'd like to try living for a while? (You can go back home when you're done with the tryout .)

Not really. I have lived in Boiceville, West Shokan (both in the Town of Olive), Oneonta (in Otsego County), New York City, Brewster (in Putnam County), Waterford (when we first moved to the Capital Distict), and now in Castleton (in Rensselaer County) and Samsonville (in the Town of Olive in Ulster County); they are all in New York State, and with the exception of those months in New York City, they are all in upstate New York. I spent the first 17 years of my life in the Town of Olive, five years in Oneonta, about 18 months downstate, another ~18 months in Waterford, for the past 20 years I've been in Castleton, and for six years I've also had a house in Samsonville. I was born in (upstate) New York, I have (nearly) always lived here, someday I will be planted here, and that's the way I want it.

Threesome: Tune-- us into what you're listening to lately. ...anything on your radar we should be aware of?

I like music, and have a lot of CDs, but I really haven't been listening to much of anything lately. I mostly prefer silence. In the car, sometimes I listen to CDs...lately what comes to mind are Bare Naked Ladies, the Prarie Home Companion soundtrack, and Dolly Parton.

Today the deluge stopped, so I ventured out and took some photos of my flowers and garden. Maybe I will post a couple here eventually. All the rain didn't seem to hurt the plants. But the same can't be said for many places; the Oneonta area took a big hit, in the Capital District, Schenectady's stockade is under water, and although not on the same scale, our driveway in Samsonville got washed out again.

Tomorrow, we are off to Lenox, MA. This time, we'll see Prairie Home Companion at Tanglewood. No link, because Tanglewood doesn't seem to have a website. Strange. Anyway, it seemed so far off when Bob bought the tickets in January, and now it is here already.

Next week we'll be in Samsonville. My connection is dial-up there, so the swimming pool always wins out over the computer.

My classes ended yesterday. For the day class, the students asked if we could go outside, and I said yes. It was a good class, and I thought they deserved to do what they wanted. The weather was beautiful. I have never held class outside before, and many students said they had never had a class outside, either. My classes often met outside when I was an undergraduate, but Oneonta was a more relaxed environment, and those were different times. I can't say I liked it as a student - it was distracting, my papers would flutter in the breeze, there was no way to write, and very often I wound up sitting in something and getting my pants dirty. But for the last class yesterday, it was OK.

I wrote to Assemblyman Tedisco (who isn't my representative, but it is in his district, and I know he likes animals since he sponsored the Buster Bill), PETA, and the mayor of Scotia about the planned killing of the Canada Geese in Collins Lake Park. I've heard from PETA, and they are aware of the situation. They said Goosepeace, a nonprofit group, offered to assist Scotia with non-lethal options, and they were rebuffed! I sure hope it can be stopped.

I found out a couple of days ago that a favorite teacher of mine died last month. After hearing about it, I searched the web and found her obituary, but it is archived and I had to pay $1.25 to view it, so I can't link to it. I did find this tribute to her, though. I believe "pig" should be "pug;" one of the other things that the Google search turned up was a post she wrote on a dicussion board in 2003 about her dog.

Every semester, in my foundations class, I have the students discuss or write about the concept of mentors and role models, whether they have had one in school or college, and whether we should expect teachers to take on this responsibility, or if that is unfair. A lot of students remember some wonderful teacher and share a story about the impact that teacher had on them. Not as common, there are others who can't remember any teacher having such a significant role. But even the students who remember a great teacher will sometimes wonder about the large number of teachers they have encountered, and the fact that only a handful have been memorable in this way.

I wouldn't say this favorite teacher of mine was a role model, or even a mentor exactly. But I do remember that she was nice to everyone - including, and especially, the troubled students. She was a high school English teacher, and in my case, she really encouraged me to write. She always assigned a journal as an assignment in class; that has proved to be a valuable lifelong habit for me, and I require the students in my foundations class to keep one, too. Maybe I wouldn't be keeping this online journal if it wasn't for her. She wrote "keep writing!" in my high school yearbook. When I told her that I was going to go to Oneonta to college, she shared that Oneonta was her alma mater. She even wrote to me a few times when I was a freshman. Although I hadn't kept in touch with her in years, I think the world will be a little less bright with her gone.

We visited Oneonta on Friday, something we do every year or so. It was a nice time, as always. But I was left with a melancholy feeling. Later, I tried to figure out why. Because I could have happily lived forever in that little city? Or is it the passing of time and aging? On campus, after the trip to the college store to pick up tee-shirts and other alumni paraphernalia, despite the bitter cold, we walked around a bit near the academic buildings, and went inside one that used to house a favorite coffee shop. It was sad to see that the coffee shop is gone, replaced by a vending room. All the chairs and tables were there, as well as the memories. In '70s orange. I scanned the faculty directory. The offices for mathematics, sociology, philosophy, anthropology, and education are located there. I only recognized one name in the list. We both noticed how friendly the staff and students were at the college union, such a contrast to here in Albany. Because it is a smaller campus? Because it is in Central New York? Because the focus in undergraduate education? We weren't sure why. Later, someone told us that the coffee shop we missed moved to a different building, and transformed into a Starbucks. Typical.

Downtown we visited a favorite bar and found it unchanged, the pizzeria where Bob worked (which has been extensively renovated), and a health food cafe. It was vegetarian when we were students, but now it serves meat. We bought a funky lantern at a small gift shop that sold used DVDs (Bob guessed they are like currency to cash-strapped students), tapestries, a huge selection of pot pipes, and incense. We ate at Brooks (yum!) and had dessert at at small cafe.

As we strolled along Main Street, we were saddened by the empty storefronts. Even when we were students, there was talk of the difficulties of owning a store there, of the threat from the east and west ends of town. But as it turned out, the suburban fringes didn't do that much harm. Students didn't have cars, the campus bus stopped near Main Street, it was tradition for folks to drive in from the outskirts to shop on Main Street, and the chains Ames to the west, and Barkers to the east both have gone out of business long ago.

The anchor of Main Street was Bresee's, a classy three-story department store that was founded in 1899. Little shops, restaurants and bars filled the rest of the street. In the basement of Bresee's was the "Health Bar," a wonderful coffee shop. I still remember two cookies were 15 cents, and a turkey sandwich on a roll was $3.00. Another sandwich choice was cream cheese on banana bread with canned peaches for that same low price. They were closed Sunday, open the other days until 5:10 and Thursdays until 8. We ate there nearly every day - twice on Thursdays - and our favorite waitress was Grace. The last time I saw Don was sitting in a booth at the Health Bar. Several of us had coffee and talked about Pink Floyd "The Wall."

In 1994 Bresee's went out of business; the Health Bar closed, as did many departments, but the store stayed open - it still operated under the Bresee's name, but sold only furniture and appliances. At least it was still there, in a way, the building maintained, a friendly presence. So I was shocked on Friday to see it vacant, and many of the surrounding stores out of business, as well. When we got back to Samsonville, I searched in Google, and learned that in late 2003 the building sold. The store stayed open, but they auctioned off much of the memorabilia that was stored inside - a lifetime of retail point-of-purchase. At Christmas time there were enormous snowflake lights that would adorn the storefront, and in the windows, a series of animatronic elves entertained passersby - all sent across the block. I wish I knew about that auction! I would have loved to go, and get something. There was a carousel horse that they sold - of course that would probably have been out of reach. But even a Health Bar menu would have been nice to have.

I could find no mention of the store going completely out of business since then, but the posters in the window said that the inventory and restaurant equipment had been auctioned off in January. There was no year, but we assumed it was 2006, since the poster was still intact. So perhaps I felt sad because Bresee's is gone?

There is no mystery as to why. Students bring cars to campus now; Oneonta has paved some formerly green spaces. Perhaps the newer generations, who inherited the buildings and stores on Main Street, are not interested in retailing. Then, people in general are willing to travel greater distances because of the allure of the malls - I'm sure lots of folks go to Binghamton or Albany to shop. Just have to have lots of selection and the latest plastic thing, you see. And it seems few people are loyal to old fashioned, small retailers. This is the philosophy: If it can be made in China, then bought for 5 cents cheaper at a big box store at midnight the day after Thanksgiving...stay outa my way on the highway, baby.

The east and west ends may have been no match for the venerable Bresee's, but Southside is booming. What was only a Howard Johnson's, a Holiday Inn and (ominously) a new, small mall (that struggled) when we were students, now has a variety of bland, awful chains: Home Depot, Hannaford, McDonald's, Taco Bell, WalMart. I didn't bother to look, but there probably are Target, Olive Garden, etc. too. You could be anywhere on this planet. It isn't special enough to be Oneonta. A flyer in the newspaper announced the grand opening of Lowe's. Samson Floors, where Bob bought paint and wallpaper, left Main Street - moved into the closed movie theatre building (because, of course, the mall has a cinema 1-50) and has since gone out of business there, too. If Samson Floors couldn't make it, how can Oneonta need both a Lowe's and a Home Depot?

I was thinking that I understand better something that eluded me when I was younger. When a senior citizen would say, "I'm glad I'm not young, because I don't like X and I don't want to see Y in the future," I would think, how ridiculous. Change is exciting, progress is good. The past may have been great, but the future will be too. Now I see all the big box chains that people fall all over themselves to support, the destroyed community that is left behind, and I see a part of contemporary culture that I don't like at all. I mourn for Bresee's, and Main Street. I even mourn the two small supermarkets adjacent to Main Street, on Chestnut Street, both now bankrupt. So now you would have no choice but to have a car, if you wanted to buy groceries. Southside is not residential, or pedestrian friendly.

A few small businesses have opened recently, to replace some of the grand stores that once graced the street. They are mostly small, exotic gift shops, and cafes. They seem to be low budget operations that cater to students; I hope they make it. Anyway, in searching, I found this blog with pictures of Bresee's, and this website, with pictures of Main Street.

SUNY Albany has been named top party school by Princeton Review. According to the article in the Chronicle of Higher Education (it is a subscription site, so I won't bother to link), "the party-school list is based on the answers students give to questions about the number of hours they spend studying per week, how much beer and hard alcohol they drink, and the popularity of fraternities and sororities on their campuses."

Great. And I wonder why I had my hands full last semester...(not that I buy into these stupid rankings or anything).

Update: Here's the story in the Times Union. The story reports,

"UAlbany, the New York City-based company declared Monday, ranks as the nation's top party school when compared with 356 others. The school last had that ranking in 1998.

It also placed first when it came to inaccessible professors and the fewest hours spent studying by students, and took top-20 notices on a host of other dubious distinctions, including least-happy students."

Tonight I am going to represent Oneonta alumni, at a gathering for new students this fall, and their parents. (Maybe I'll keep quiet about where I teach!) I recall when I was an undergraduate that the rumor was that Oneonta had more bars per capita than any other place east of the Mississippi. A dubious distinction, and I'm not even sure if it is true, but...now UAlbany is the top party school. (I think this was fueled by the out-of-control Fountain Day last spring.) Yikes, I hope the common factor isn't me!

My hands are cold as I type! Winter is here.

I am remembering, that back in my Oneonta college days, I had several friends who lived in railroad apartments over the shops on Main Street. They were heated with big old gas stoves that sat in the middle of the living room floor. (I was fortunate, in that most of the old Victorian houses had fancy radiators with steam/hot water heat, or had been converted to forced hot air.) Anyway, the ceilings in those Main Street student apartments were high, those gas stoves really only worked well in one room, and Oneonta was quite cold in the winter. Plus, most of my friends had better things to do with their limited dollars; keeping the heat on wasn't always a priority. In my mind's eye I see one friend wearing gloves and a jacket, working on calculus problems, and another wearing a bulky sweater and baking cookies, while reading Max Weber.

I'm feeling sad today.

I found out a friend from high school days died yesterday. We hadn't kept in touch that much; in fact, I had seen her only a few times since high school, most recently at the yard sale we had last Memorial Day weekend at the old house in S'ville. She bought a comforter from me. She asked what I wanted for it, and I said 50 cents. She forced me to take a dollar instead.

I think her life circumstances were not great but I am not going to speculate on that here. Instead, I am going to remember that she had musical talent. She came to a party we had years ago, in Oneonta. I remember her sitting on the front steps, playing her guitar for a few other friends.

In high school she was "a character." She was always doing or saying something funny. Her life circumstances weren't easy then either, but you rarely saw her with anything but a smile. Like me, she wasn't a part of the whole clique scene. She would never have been accepted into it, but it didn't matter because she was an individual. She had one really close friend, which I think is typical for teenagers. It wasn't me, we weren't in the same grade in school. But I always liked her, and we hung around together sometimes at school, but especially on the bus ride to school and at the town park down the road from where I lived. She helped to brighten what often was either a dull or unpleasant high school experience.

I know this is superficial, but it's true and she wasn't a bit conceited. She was always pretty, and she got prettier and prettier as she aged, in spite of life circumstances. I'm talking model pretty.

I take comfort in knowing that God has something better waiting for her.

Already Tuesday Too?
What do you think about the US government giving money to family members of 9/11 victims?

Oh, jf, these are great questions but also hard questions. It is not easy to address 9/11. I have done some thinking about this aspect over the past few months, but as I am drowning in end-of-the-semester work, I don't have time to give this the attention it deserves.

1.) Is a firemen's life worth less than a stock broker?

No!

2.) What about family members of victims who died from circumstances not related to 9/11?

No!

3.) It is likely that 9/11 will not be the last terrorist attack. Should the same "compensation" be provided for future victims families?

I don't know the answer to this. I don't know about the whole idea of "compensation." How can we boil down someone's life to two inches in the newspaper's obituary section and a cost-benefit analysis? On the other hand, what is compassionate? What is fair, if anything about this can be called fair? What is realistic?

Instead of more posting, here's this from 2001 (written pre-ejournal):

It's Christmas time and I hunt for my cookie cutters. I have seventeen of them in a Toy Story plastic bucket that I got at the movies, full of popcorn. I remember buying two of them at the Great American supermarket when I was a college student and lived in Oneonta. Ten of them I acquired when I worked in New York City; they were a gift from my boss. But those ten are cheap, tinny imitations of the four which were Mimmie's. These four are old and sturdy and still perfectly symmetrical -- a heart, a star, a diamond and a crescent moon. These same shapes were traced as decoration on some of the pages in the Watson Hollow Inn cookbook. They were used to cut bread for tea sandwiches.

Actually, there are five which belonged to Mimmie, but the fifth isn't really a cookie cutter at all. It cuts a hole in the center of a larger circle; Mimmie used it to make donuts. It has a big wooden handle and doesn't match the timeless design of the other four. I use it to make wreath-shaped cookies.

At home, Mimmie made sugar cookies, and she used food-coloring tinted sugar as trim. In my mind's eye I see four little plastic bottles of food coloring with pointy tops. A slight squeeze, and a tiny drop of green, or blue, or red, or yellow would fall into the baggy of granulated sugar.

I don't have any food coloring, and these cookies are spice, not sugar, but I am using Mimmie's spice cookie recipe, along with those magic shapes that are taking a Christmas break from their promotional popcorn pail in the pantry.

Fall cleaning. That's how I spent last weekend. It's basically the same idea as Spring cleaning, it's just the season that is different. Cleaning the dust, Rudy and Edna hair tumbleweeds (after months of supplements - Omega 3 and 6, B vitamins, and something called 'Nzymes, Sophie has managed to grow a strip of sparse hair on her back but still doesn't shed), and washing what seems like an endless number of blankets. We sure need them. Today I turned the fan off, and decided it was time for the furnace. The animals were curled up in tight balls, reminiscent of a wooly bear caterpillar's reaction when it perceives a threat. One eye opens and they watch me when I enter the room; I am hit with a powerful message: we're cold. Do something.

Of course the pilot light is out, and despite my best efforts I can't get it to stay lit. So I added my pink sweatshirt top to the working-at-home ensemble. My hands are cold as I type. Don, a college friend in Oneonta, used to wear gloves inside. He hardly ever turned on the heat in his railroad apartment, preferring to tough it out. It would have cost a fortune with such high ceilings. I remember him now, fully outfitted for winter, leaning against the cheap paneling in his dark living room, a textbook open nearby, writing with a pen in a spiral bound notebook. He actually seemed to relish the cold. Strange to think he has been dead for twenty years. The image is literally frozen in time.

The leaves are about two weeks behind schedule, and it is far from peak right now. Behind this house, against the tree-covered slope on the other side of the ravine that goes up to the Mountain View Cemetery there is one small oak tree, a pioneer among its mostly still green neighbors, that has fully changed color to a deep reddish orange. I watch it from the back windows of the house, a symbol of the approaching winter.

Another strategy for coping with a chilly house, and one I much prefer to typing with gloves, is baking. We got apples over the weekend; a peck of Mutsus beckons from the porch. (The treadmill is nearby, but that is strangely silent.)

Precious day today, one of those where you know you should spend the time to wrap your arms around it, take a deep breath, skip around, smile and say, "it's great to be alive." My on campus class went well, the online one is experimenting with a new group exercise, my voice mail is working and a computer was delivered to my office, my new level of pay started to roll in, and Bob and I had dinner at Lombardo's with Tom. Yum.

Oh, I had lunch with Elaine! She's a lovely and interesting person. Our conversation was wide ranging, including the marvels, and potential (& realized?) downsides, of certain aspects of the technological world. The weather was wonderful early fall - and so I decided to make a small effort at fitness, and I walked some of the way back to campus.

Tuesday Too # 31 Takes a Powder

1.) In this fast paced world we live in, is stress keeping you from realizing your full potential? Good God!, who wrote that? It sounds like an advertisement for a weekend workshop on inner peace.

Hmmm...no. I'm not all that stressed at the moment.

2.) Due to the nature of question number one, it is suggested that you answer it anyway you can, and then leave your own question for the next person, or persons to answer in the comment. On the other hand, you could just hit the back button.

This is going to make more than three questions...but what great questions...here goes:

Shawn asks, Mario, Mega Man, or your video game character of choice? I'm not much of a video game player - the only one that comes to mind is Ms. PacMan. I actually used to play that now and then in the lobby of a supermarket during college days in Oneonta, and I sometimes even managed to not get killed immediately.

Sya asks, What little thing are you doing for amusement this week? This isn't really little, but on Thursday we are going to see the Indigo Girls at Proctor's Theatre in Schenectady. (What a great week!)

Eden asks, When's the last time you were deliberately mean? This might sound untrue, but I can't remember. How about a long time ago, when I had a very bad argument with my boss a few days after I had politely resigned my position, and he had graciously accepted. But afterwards, he kept prodding me over various issues, things grew tense, and despite my best efforts, I eventually lost it. I can't recall everything I said - but I suppose "deliberately mean" could be used as one descriptor. "F-word" could be another (a true rarity for me).

Leah asks, What motivates you? Imagination, inspiration, fascination, challenge, financial need, and a few other things that elude me right now.

Julie asks, When was the last time you really ROFL'ed instead of just typing it as an acronym? I'm stumped here, and I thought I had been indoctrinated with the universe of acronyms by public service. Does this mean puke or is that rolfed? Anyway - if so, I can't remember - probably a few months ago. If not - I have no clue.

Here are mine:

A. Is # 1 a reference to Everybody Loves Raymond?

B. Do you feel happy or sad about the advent of Fall?

3.) What's really on your mind?

Well - it's very late and sleeping is way up there. More generally, a few mundane things: time management, getting organized, getting more exercise, figuring out when I can steal time to bake zucchini bread with the last of the garden...

Banned Book Week September 20 - 28! So go and read some Mark Twain!