Berkshire Carousel again

It is amazing how the project of the Berkshire Carousel just sucks you in. In the few days that I have been involved over the past two weeks, I have gone from watching and listening on my first hour there, then to sawing, gluing and clamping; soon I was carving with a mallet and chisel on the body of a horse I had never met. Today, it was the body of the donkey named Missy who got my attention for the first part of the day, and then the head of Melinda.

First, about Missy the donkey. A Pittsfield man named Kevin O'Hara wrote a memoir "Last of the Donkey Pilgrims" about his pilgrimage around the coast of Ireland with his donkey named Missy. An introduction to this can be found on Kevin's Blog    http://bloggingfromthebog.wordpress.com/tag/kevin-ohara/logging   Blogging from the Bog. It is a great story about friendship between a man and his donkey. It tells of a deepening respect that was mutually beneficial as Kevin grew to appreciate his companion over the weeks and months of travel. I find it fascinating that this particular donkey will have a place on the carousel. It is not just a cute name, but there is a history behind this one. Having had an opportunity to work on this donkey has carved an image and a story deeply into my personal memory bank. I am going to get back to the blog soon, and also get the book, and maybe Missy's hoof print on it from the carousel.

And now, about Melinda. I do not yet know the story behind Melinda. I am sure that will come out.  Meanwhile, I write my own story of Melinda. The day I signed on as a volunteer, Phil, a man who knows his woodworking and carving introduced me to Melinda. It was a drawing on maybe 6 feet by 4 feet paper. We taped it to a viewing board in the shop, and Phil showed me some of the lines on the drawing and what they meant. There were red lines that denoted the sections of the horse that had to be made separately and then carved and put together before the artists go to work at the painting.

Honestly, although I was fascinated by the drawing, I had trouble understanding how the concept became a reality.

My first full day on the job, as I said in a previous blog, involved body work on Melinda. This was cutting boards, gluing them together to make the various parts of the horse- body, head, neck, tail, legs. I took a vacation from Melinda to work on Thunderbolt (still on the carving table). Pieces of Melinda appeared soon in the carving area. I was surprised at the size of her, although I knew she was going to occupy the outside ring of the carousel.

Suddenly, today, I got the call. Melinda needed me again. Because I was so skilled at drilling a straight hole, and thoroughly acquainted with dowel points, I was chosen to drill the holes and match the head to the neck with dowels  Now this requires way more expertise than I thought I had. I saw it done last week, once. And today, I did it pretty much on my own.

That wasn't all. I was then told to get some tracing paper and a pencil and trace Melinda's head, with eyes, teeth and harness adornments, from the large drawing of the complete Melinda. This traced image I then retraced onto the wooden block, labelled Melinda's head. I guess the stunning part of it was that the supervisors tipped in with suggestions, a small amount of instruction, and for the most part let me be. I was so involved that I had to complete that whole operation before I left. I really felt responsible to prepare Melinda's head for the carvers.

Like I said, the Berkshire Carousel sucks you in. The floor managers know their stuff (it is more than woodworking and carving), pass it on and the project becomes your own. I can hardly wait for the day when I take my grandson there for a ride on the great animals that are becoming part of me, and I hope to be able to tell him the story of the Berkshire Carousel.

Joys of a Cold Winter

Baby, it's cold outside. Depending on where you live in the great Northeast, there are wind chills of -24; temperatures ranging from -5 to +8 greet you in the morning. If you are lucky, the furnace is pumping out heat, almost keeping up with the outdoor wind and chill. Now that's rough!

I look around the house inside. Sun is beaming through the blinds in the kitchen, the sign of a clear day.The first joy of the day is doggie, prancing around, stretching, craving a good morning hug (ugh!), and of course ready to take you out into the morning chill. Why not? I grab my heavy coat, warm hat, and thermal gloves, kick off my slippers by the door, and don my bean boots. I slide open the rear patio door, and doggie bounds out, frantic to relieve himself. I carefully close the door, but not all the way. I have a fear of being locked out in the arctic cold, so I compromise with a partially open door, that allows a little of the cold into the back porch. I walk down the five steps to the snowy ground, and almost get mowed down by the dog, bounding back into the house. He is finished, and smart enough to know how cold it is. I tarry a bit to take in the late winter sunrise as it enriches the high clouds reflecting many different shades of red and yellow, so perfect in the stillness of the early morning. My day has begun with this gift that I would probably have missed were it not for the impetuous, playful dog.

He gets his food and fresh water, and then begs for a treat. Who can refuse? As the aroma of fresh Joe (that's coffee, not the dog), tickles my nostrils, I move to the living room, open the blinds, and read for a while, eventually sipping that black tonic that helps to open me up for the day, more so than the blast of cold air I received earlier.

I plan my day around a lunch appointment with a friend, schedule in some writing before lunch, and some exercise after. The rest of the day would be unscheduled reading, relaxing, playing with the dog, and writing some more.
But winter wonders never cease. Again the dog forgetting the temperature wants to go out. As we approach the patio door, we both catch sight of a magnificent flock of turkeys grazing in the field on the few seeds available, but generally soaking up the warm rays of the waning winter sun. As we moved closer, about forty of these awkward flying bowling balls roared into the air, soaring and vanishing into the high trees on the back edge our property, leaving only thousands of forked footprints in the snow.

The dog meanders around the edge of the property, does his duty, and again, and again, and then at his highest speed rushes to the door, and waits for me, trudging at my slower speed, to open it. He then blasts into the kitchen, and sits, waiting patiently to see what I have for him now. I pet him a lot, rub his back forever, kick a ball around with him, and he again returns to that sitting, waiting, anxious position, " where's my treat?" He gets a little chew, and settles down until dinner.

And now for the final escapade of today's winter fun. The sun has set, and darkness envelopes everything, and the dog has eaten, and again wants to go out. I bundle up in my warmest coat, hat and gloves. I turn on the porch light, and open the patio door. A brisk breeze passes through my body as the dog steps out into the cold, and I follow, but it's not darkness. Rather, the snow glowing in the light of the moon's great waxing gibbous. Millions of stars staring down at me, unobstructed by the canopy of leaves that block the array from May to October. The dog relieves himself. I let the dog in. I gaze star ward, and step into the snow, and then walk, warm, into the wind a bit, around the screen house, listening for the screech owls and other signs of winter life.

Only at wintertime in the great Northeast! But for the dog, I may have missed it.

Bodybuilding-My First Day at the Berkshire Carousel

Hi Ho! Hi Ho! It’s home from work we go! I smiled and had a good time all day. Bodybuilding. The body of “Melinda”.

Melinda is a horse that will occupy a place in the outer circle of the Berkshire Carousel. Today was my first day of volunteering at that project which has been going on for several years now. I felt like it was my first day in school, where the world was just opening up for me. It was an adventure that I had contemplated, but was unable to engage in when I first heard about the carousel project. It was supposed to end in December of 2012 with a magical Carousel preened, ready for fun and enjoyment for people of all ages. Apparently there were setbacks that prevented the timely conclusion of the project, so it goes on.

So I jumped into the thick of things today. My supervisor, Phil greeted me, showed me where to hang my coat, and immediately brought me to the work station in the back room. He quickly explained to me some gluing techniques, gave a demonstration, and put me to work next to him doing the same thing on another set of boards, pieces of Melinda's body. We then hustled out to the main work area for a stand up meeting in the middle of partially constructed horse bodies that were being chiseled and sanded by a number of volunteers. I was introduced as the newest volunteer "who was going to make a great difference in productivity", to which I responded that they should "lower their expectations, a lot."
Generally the meeting helped all, the volunteers and the permanent staff, get a view as to what was transpiring on the administrative front..."The lease for the space had to be renewed... The mechanical and structural portions of the carousel would be arriving in a couple of months..."; the production front "Leaving notes about progress for the next shift to continue work...tapes are available that describe aspects of the project... How do you turn on a tape?..", and general housekeeping..."Who should pick up the place? Who should empty the garbage?"

It seems that Phil's job, and therefore mine, is the key to moving the project forward. There can be no horses without our bodybuilding. So we hastily retreated to the back room. He showed me a saw, some boards, told me where to get a pencil and tape measure. He quickly figured out the number, length and width of the boards I was to cut, and let me handle it. He left for a few minutes to check on some details. There I was, saw in hand and what I could remember of the verbal instructions. I glanced at the drawing of Melinda, and noticed a list in the corner of needed pieces. Was this a head or a neck that I was working on. Hmmm! I decided it was the neck, and started to cut like a madman. I had three of them cut before Phil returned, and then ascertained that I had the correct dimensions. I was doing okay. He pointed out that knots in a board were not good, so, I should not use boards like that. Then, I finished sawing the total of seven boards needed to form the neck.

Now the real fun, gluing and clamping. Phil showed me the ends of the boards and how the grain curved. He marked the curve of the grain, and demonstrated that the grain should be reversed on alternating boards in a glued stack to prevent warping. I learned to mark the side of each board where the glue should be applied, mark the front of each stack with a  "V" to align the boards correctly, apply enough glue, but not too much, and also to write the name of the piece "Melinda's neck" on each piece. We then clamped the stacks of wood together, and let drying time do some work. The head, tail, and legs still will have to be done next week.

So Phil was teaching, I was learning, things were getting done, and in between all of this, we had a rambling conversation about teaching, guns, health care, long term care, people, sports and life. It was a good time.

Alan Alda came up as about ten of us bantered in the lunch area, partly because people think I look like him, but also act like him in his MASH role. I sat in a chair at the head of the table, and some one told me I had to run the meeting; what did I have on the agenda. I suggested that we draw up an agenda right there, and get on with the meeting. They all knew who I was because I was introduced to the group at the large meeting earlier in the day. So I made everybody tell me their name. And then I realized that nobody really knew each other’s name except the few people who were regular and important to the project. I then thanked everyone for a very successful meeting, as we finished lunch.

After lunch, I did a little more gluing with Phil. Then, I went into the main work area where I learned what happens to the bodies we were building in the back room. Jim draws on them some of the features that will be prominent as the squared off bodies of the horse become rounded. He then scribbles on areas that need to be removed with a chisel. He then demonstrated his chiseling technique, and handed me the mallet and chisel, and instructed me to take out as much as he had marked. This will be my job next time, making a square shaped body, round. I must admit I was worried about this, whacking away at something with a mallet and a chisel until someone says that's enough. I will get used to it.

Today, I was saved from doing too much of that because my mentor, Phil, wanted me to ride with him to a wood shop to plane down some of the work we had done... my first field trip.

Not only was this a fun day, but it was announced that there will be a party for workers sometime in May. What a way to welcome a new volunteer! What a wonderful world!

The Berkshire Carousel Revisited- Opportunity Knocks Twice

Today, I happened to be in the Berkshire Mall, and I realized that opportunity does knock more than once. The Berkshire Carousel project is continuing, and did not finish in 2012 as originally anticipated. I walked through the doors of the project again, and this time came out a volunteer. Time did not pass me by; the merry-go-round is still running; I hopped aboard. 

I signed on as an volunteer at the Berkshire Carousel. They are building a merry-go-round, carving horses, painting them, carving chariots, and other decor, etc. They have been doing this for a several years. I knew it was happening; wished I could help and learn something; I thought the project was over, but it goes on. So I told Phil (another Phil, also a PJ to distinguish him from his father, married to another PJ) that I would come and saw some boards for him on Thursday. So I will learn how to build these beauties from scratch, gluing pieces of wood together, chiseling, joining, maybe even some bas relief. They can only use hand tools, so it should be a good work out. I got the job.

Phil showed me a drawing of what he was working on, a large horse, a four foot long body, four legs, tail, neck and head joined on separately, all carved to match perfectly. I must admit that perfection has been a rather elusive goal of mine. Maybe I will come closer with this project.

He then brought me to the back work room where he had begun assembling one of the horse bodies. My job would be to hand saw some boards to certain lengths. I told him my grandfather taught me how to do that. Phil was a shop teacher before he became involved in this project.

I then helped him put the drawing up on a huge board in the back room, and a partnership was formed. We'll see. I am excited about this. Reprinted here is my original blog about the Berkshire Carousel.

www.berkshirecarousel.com

I have been thinking lately that I don’t get out much these days, and today was an experience that brought that home to me. Since I was a child, I always liked the carousel at the fairs and carnivals. I was afraid of the horses… they were a little too high, so I often rode in one of the chariots…very safe. I remember always being anxious about getting off in the right place so I wouldn’t get lost. I remember waving to my mother and father as I made the circle. they were always so encouraging, even in this little event. It was sort of like leaving home for 3-5 minutes and coming home again. the world was smaller than I thought, and safer, and the supportive people were always there, not far away.
Several years ago, I visited the old carousel at Caroga Lake. It was closed, but I could peer inside, and even walk into it a bit. It seemed sad to see such an important part of life on the verge of extinction. And a year or so after that, I visited the Sandwich heritage museum, where a working carousel allowed me to step back in time, ride the circle of life on a “pony”, wave to my wife as she patiently and supportively admired her knight, bravely going off into the world and safely returning.

This photo is from the Sandwich Heritage Museum.

But today, I was out and about. We visited the Berkshire Mall in Lanesboro, MA., and there was a real workshop called the Berkshire Carousel. I thought they might be selling the “ponies”, but on more careful observation, they were building them, actually carving them from chunks of basswood. A team of volunteers led by two master carvers were putting together, carving, sanding, finishing, and painting these beautiful, glossy horses for a carousel which is to be built in the city of Pittsfield. There will be chariots for the smaller people, the handicapped, and the timid. They will teach you how to carve. There is an effort underway to design the carousel with artwork from the Berkshires.

And as I read the brochure, I realized how little I have been out lately. The project has been going on for about five years, and is scheduled to be completed in 2012. It would have been fun to be involved in this project, but I look forward to the ride when it is completed, another trip around the world, and safely home. I love it.

Sizzling Apple Pie

That piece of plastic was burning a hole in my wallet. I had to get rid of it, so I ate it, and it was sooo good as Mr. food would say. I had received a $25 gift card to Applebees for Christmas, and I wasn't sure how to use it, so I decided to treat myself to lunch.

You know what, the bill was actually $25.01, but I was sort of good to myself. If I ate what I did today everyday for lunch, I would be close to 250 very quickly. New England fish and chips with plenty of tartar sauce. Very tasty. If MacDonalds fries are a 3 on the 1-10 scale, Applebees seemed to me at about 8 with maybe a tad more sugar. The cole slaw was only okay. I had to have a glass of merlot to accompany the meal. I know, it should have been white, but I didn't know I was having fish until after I ordered the wine. Besides, I don't believe it is wine unless it is red.

I loved it all, but midway through the chips, I realized that I would get the card back with about $8 on it, too much to leave for a tip. So I picked up the dessert menu, ordered coffee, and when Maureen served the coffee, she suggested the triple chocolate melt down. It sounded so sinful and unhealthy. Triple chocolate. I didn't even ask if it was dark chocolate. I simply said, "Isn't there something with apples?" To me apples are healthy no matter what you do to them. If there were apples in that triple chocolate melt down, the deal would have been sealed.
She responded: "Sizzling Apple Pie?" and I said yes. I knew I was on the road to good health. Then she brought out the sizzling apple pie, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream sizzling right next to it, and a small container of butter caramel syrup. This was really good! I felt so healthy rejecting the chocolate for the fruit dish, and I am sure it will pay off. It may have been 50  fewer calories.

I recommend to anyone who is not allergic to some of the ingredients (there is walnut streusel in it) to get this dessert. If some one asks me at the end of 2013, what food touched your soul this year, I think it will be hard to beat this. Maybe a rerun would be better if I skip the fish and chips, and go with a friend.

Sizzling Apple Pie! a monster dessert that touches your soul!

Putting away the tree

Today, I am taking the 300 or so ornaments off the Christmas tree, removing the lights, and eventually, this beautiful 12 foot eco-friendly tree will be put away for another year. It has served us faithfully for thirteen years. Phyllis was the inspiration that brought the tree to our porch those many years ago.

One of our favorite Christmas shops, the Silver Sleigh, in Lenox, MA. was going out of business. The owners decided it was time to have some fun and were moving to Florida, even though business was pretty good. When the store had opened probably ten years before, Phyllis saw the magical tree and loved it. It was worth a trip to the Silver Sleigh just to see the many ornaments and lights displayed on it. We stopped there often occasionally picking up an ornament, or a gift.  

Suddenly, our favorite shop was no longer going to be there. Phyllis, in bargain hunting mode, brought us to the Silver Sleigh with one item in mind, the tree. And there it stood, at the entrance as usual, practically denuded of ornaments and lights, but still splendid in its state of undress. She went straight to the owner. “We want the tree. How much?” The price was $350. “Sold!” and the tree became our tree. I was figuring that is ten years of short, cut trees at $35 per year, so it would equal out, and we had the space.

We panicked a bit when we realized the height and the number of lights and ornaments it would take to adorn the tree. We bought some fillers and garlands to round out our meager supply. Maybe at that time there were a hundred and fifty ornaments. Over the years we were blessed with ornaments from many quarters. Our nieces and nephews would give us a special ornament occasionally. My siblings added to the collection. And our daughter Meg picked about 15 vintage 1940-50 ornaments from the garbage in Boston. Our neighbors would bring us some fresh fragile ornaments each year at the annual Christmas party. And of course there were the ones we bought on our travels, from Newport, Cape Cod, Williamsburgh, North and South Carolina, Disneyland, Sacramento, Denver, and Wyoming.

Ten sets of lights assure that it is bright and cheerful. And of course there is nothing like the mountain of gifts that appear under and around it on Christmas morning.

The tree is the center of life for a number of weeks, from before Thanksgiving until well after New Year’s Day. If I understand the theme of one of our recent books tackled by our discussion group, “The Hoop and the Tree”, our Christmas tree is a perfect example, as should everyone’s. We form a hoop, community around the tree. The hoop includes family, friends, and neighbors. Our bands of community, often overlapping. And the tree represents our aspirations as individuals, to strive, to be better, to be the best person possible.

The longevity of this tree has years of community and aspirations linked to it, and so we are thankful for that as we look forward to putting it up again in November.

Run flat or donut?

Enough of those donut spare tires. They are too small. You can only drive a few miles on them, and then you have to get your other tire fixed or replaced if you have had a flat. You can't just drive around on a donut forever.

So some car manufacturers have heard the complaints of the rabble. No more donut spares. Despite the fact that they are smaller and conserve space; are lighter and save energy; the latest trend is to do away with the donut spare.

And what do they replace it with? A full sized tire that you can rotate regularly with the other four tires? No!

BMW is equipped with "run flat" tires. You can drive up to 150 miles on them while they are technically flat. There is no spare; there is no jack. A dream solution; a nightmare! You are supposed to believe that a flat will never happen as long as you own the car. However, you have those 150 miles in the event that it does. And you probably have to replace the tire after driving it "flat". Cost to the consumer... over $350. Now suppose you drive this magnificent machine 50,000 miles, which is still new for a BMW, and the tires are a little bald. You will need to find a tire dealer who has the tires, or who may order them for you, and who has the equipment to mount them. Four tires could be between $1400 and $2000! I don't want to be an alarmist, but this doesn't necessarily sound like an alternative to a donut tire.

Now, according to Consumer Reports, the new 2013 Chevy Malibu has no spare, but a huge trunk that can expand by folding the back seat down. And lucky you donut tire haters will have a neat 12 volt air inflator and a can of tire sealant to get you through the day or night.

I like progress. I think there are far fewer flats than ever before because all the tires are better, and so are the roads. I remember ads in the 1950s when Firestone or Goodyear began pushing the tubeless tire, the puncture proof tire, and other improvements. It was amazing. You could still drive a little ways on those, but had to resort to a spare eventually. Triple A (AAA) came on the scene, and offered speedy (sort of) roadside assistance if you couldn't change the tire yourself. Now dealers and manufacturers will provide similar services for customers with "run flat" tires, maybe.

The road of progress is fraught with more dangers than our highways. Maybe I am too concerned about the consequences of not having  spare. The donut that was nestled under the back side of my mini-van served me well. It was easy to get at, and I learned to change a tire in less than 2 minutes (practice makes perfect.) And then one day, I looked under there thinking I should add a little air to my donut, and it just wasn't there. It had apparently rusted off the car, probably bounced into another lane, or over a cliff, I hope. I had driven thousands of miles without a spare on regular all-weather tires. How long could I go without a spare? About 15 miles to the nearest junk yard to get a replacement for $15.

Holiday Greetings

Holidays are a special time of year. From September to August, there are hundreds of them. Some are particularly American, like Thanksgiving and Fourth of July. Many are religious like Ramadan (a whole month of serious fasting, from sun rise to sunset), Rash Hashanna, Yom Kippur, Christmas, Hannukka,  Kwansa, Passover and Easter. Even these holidays are difficult to characterize as purely religious since some have historical reference, and some have a more spiritual tone. Some of the Christian celebrations have been infused with more than a little of secularism.

And then something flashes on my Facebook page: It's not happy holidays, it's merry Christmas: Like, if you agree. This is so 'in your face'!

Such exclusivity does nothing to raise the spirit of love and kindness that the season is about. Yeah, it could be cute; there is definitely some chest thumping here; certainly a claim is struck for the Christian "side".

And also there is anger fomented, one way or the other. A division that should not exist. A chasm of spirituality among peoples who share the earth, must work together to improve and salvage what is left of it.

Disrespect is engendered in an area of life where there should be harmony: love of god and love of neighbor, ideas which transcend the limits of organized religion, and provide a common  ideal  for living together and sharing the planet, and indeed the universe.

As well-intentioned as the Face book posting may be, I think it is better to say Happy Holidays! Say it often. Say it year round as we all crawl out from our safe shells. There are risks, but in a fragile world, we should be happy to live and work and celebrate everything together.

So celebrate as you wish, in the humble quiet of the winter solstice, the family celebrations around the tree and dinner table (if you are lucky enough to have one), the lighting of candles, songs of life, cheer, and praise.  Just enjoy. Go to church if you want... say merry Christmas to your friends and  fellow worshippers  Be yourself and let people be. And you will have a great gift, and the strife of holiday greetings will end.

Long term forecast/future cast?

This map is from the AccuWeather website as of November 25, 2012.  
  

So this is what it looks like for the coming season. Most of that snow is supposed to come in late January and February. I think I can live with it. And then again, I am skeptical. Where is the ski season? Where are the snowmen? The white Christmas? The sleigh rides? We will have to wait and see.

It is important to note that above means above average amounts, not just above last year. To predict the latter does not take too much equipment or weather savvy.

As I look at the map and think of the Jan-Feb forecast, I will make sure I have a good supply of firewood, candles, kerosene, and food. I will get fresh gas for my snow blower, and add stabilizer to it. the snow shovel will be placed in my hall way. (My health insurance company sent out a newsletter a few years ago that suggested shoveling snow was excellent exercise. What the?)

And then I will get out some travel brochures? Will there be a sunny warm spot that is a better place to be than the great northeast. Probably sunny and warm, but better than here at home, with soup on the wood stove, curled up with a good book or face book? Better than the opportunity to walk for miles on snow shoes and experience the stillness of the winter woods? Better than sitting around with a cuppa'  Joe or hot chocolate waiting for the sting of the wind on your face to dissipate and the feeling to return to your toes? Dreaming of far away places with pleasures that only exist... in the ads and brochures.

And if the snow doesn't come? That's okay too. I will get my exercise another way. Wondering why suddenly weather people are using the term future cast instead of forecast. Perhaps it portends the simple fact that you never know what the future will bring... it is only a guess.

Black Friday Deals

So it's black Friday. I look at my in box and I am missing out on so many bargains. Maybe I should avoid this bright, sunny, relatively warm day; maybe I should vacate this quiet restful place. Maybe I should jump into the stress and clamor of the day, go into the poorly lighted stores with the annoying music (that isn't Sammy Davis, Jr.). I don't think so.

Blsck Fiday is the day the retail stores go from red ink losses to black ink profits. Sales increase immensely over the previous months' sales and profits begin to show, big time. The time between now and the 25th of December, over a month of shopping this year, is important to the bottom line.

But there are deals out there if you have the muscle and the stamina to go after them: a nexus tablet at Staples for $250 with 32 G; wait a minute there are 26 7" tablets online at Walmart for under $100 (sorry about the Gs though, only 4G in some and 8G in others). There is one with a 9" screen.  The first computer I ever owned was a Commodore with 4 k of Ram and I had to hook it up to a TV set so Dan could play pac man. So even these cheap things are way  better than that, and these cheap things cost about the same as that Commodore.

As I think about it, the second computer I ever owned was a Kaypro, and that had no internal memory. Everything was loaded via floppy disk and saved to a floppy disk. And then I graduated to a Radio Shack that actually had 30M of internal memory. It was miraculous. I think this served the family well until we retired from school teaching. For some reason, in retirement, we needed even more memory, so now I have a laptop with 750G, enough for thousands of albums, just as my picutre taking ambitions are fading. Where was this technology when I needed it. There are like 35 albums out there on the shelf. How many years will it take to scan those photos (even just the good ones to a computer) and why?

Sorry about the digression... back to blcak Friday. Some of the "deals" are available only online, and some have the latest software called "Ice Cream Sandwich". Perhaps they are edible. Actually, it is the latest version of Android operating system that just makes things more complicated, unless you are born with one of these implanted in your brain.

There is a 51" plasma TV at Walmart for $478. Wow! Wait, don't run out the door. Turn on 95.5, the "official" radio station for Christmas music, real loud. You have to have cacophony. And belly up to the computer. Load up your shopping cart there, and Santa will deliver.

I hope you read this before you went out. No stores this year. No crowds. Just music and the glow of the screen, and nimble fingers (no stamina, no muscles), oh, and a credit card with lots of credit available. Eventualy, though, you will have to pay for all this, either by mail or by jail.

Getting Back

Harvey mountain has been there forever, another 900 feet in altitude from where we live. The last time I was there was probably ten years ago on a mid fall day, a little cooler than today. Instead of the slight breeze of today, there was a chilling wind driving light snow flakes into our faces.

Unfortuantely, that episode seemed to indicate how life would be the next ten or so years. Only steps away from the rush of a great view, and usually pushed back by forces beyond our control. We carried on, and we come to the beauty of this moment, where we are able to be on top, see the forest, the trees, the clouds,  feel the sun warming us, and the gentle breeze on today's mountain.

It was through the woods on the way up. We always wanted to do that. Over a little stream. Balanced with a thin walking stick. And it would be considered a moderate trail, but doable for us.

We were exhilarated by the view, the accomplishment of standing so high and so close. We walked over the line into Massachsetts, and the trees with knees as Phylls called them, were still there, growing toward the sunlight. We saw the splendid blueberry bushes which define the great summer festival in Austerlitz. We paused and looked south toward the Catamount ski area in Hillsdale, and northwest where the Empire State Plaza appears as a sparkling pearl. We took the logging trail three miles down to the car, a much easier descent than through the woods.

And finally home where I sit with my feet up, after a hot shower. I didn't walk alone; she was with me, the sun, the breeze, the joy of my life.

Phyllis O'Shea Palladino

Phyllis O'Shea Palladino, died Wednesday,  October 10, at home in Austerlitz, NY after a long illness. Born in Ilion, NY on September 27, 1937 she was the daughter of the late Francis B. O'Shea and Edith A. Butler.

Phyllis taught English at Chatham High School from 1980 to 1998. She brought a creative and challenging experience to all the students whom she taught. Prior to that, she taught in Catholic schools at high school, middle school and elementary school levels for 12 years. She earned her BA in English from Siena and an MS in Guidance from SUNY Albany. She was a guidance counselor at Chatham Junior High School in 1972-73, and later, an adjunct professor at SUNY Albany. In 1992, she was awarded the New York State English Council (NYSEC) Teacher of Excellence medal. In addition to her school related work, Phyllis has been Vice President and a member of the Board of Trustees of the Austerlitz Historical Society. Autumn in Austerlitz, the School House Re-union, Dinners at old Austerlitz were among her significant ideas in her leadership role in AHS. She authored "The Adventures of Dan and Meg."

She is survived by her husband of forty years, Philip Palladino; her children, Daniel and Margaret-Mary; her sister, Patricia O'Shea; and grandson K. Hannibal Ben Chaabane. She was predeceased by her brother Francis J. O'Shea.

Burial will be in the Austerlitz Cemetery at the convenience of the family. A memorial reception for friends and neighbors will be held at the family residence, Phyllis' beloved home, at 11631 State Route 22, Austerlitz on Saturday, October 20  from 2 p.m. to 5 p.m.

In lieu of flowers, a contribution may be made in her memory to the Community Hospice of Columbia Greene, 47 Liberty Street, Catskill, NY 12414 or the Austerlitz Historical Society, PO Box 144, Austerlitz, NY 12017.

Ordinary Flying Manhole Covers

"This is nothing out of the ordinary". This was a reported quote on Channel 6 news tonight... not from a weatherman talking about rain in September... not a reporter reporting that there is a scummy election shaping up over the next month and half... nor even from a sports caster telling that the Yankees are close to being in the playoffs.

No, this ordinary thing is a manhole cover becoming airborne because of some bad wiring underground. It's sort of like saying it happens all the time. And Reportedly, a National Grid spokesperson calls this ordinary. It happened three or four times in the Albany-Troy area during the past week. Of course it's ordinary. Just like the leaves change in fall, the robins return in spring, and yes even a blue moon.

Now I go back in my mind and remember fondly all those other times in my life when we were treated to such a display of pyrotechnics from beneath the earth. Volcanoes come to mind, but no where near where I live. I can't think of a single incident where this "ordinary" phenomenon of a manhole cover hurtling through the air took place.

So I will try to think of the "ordinariness" of these incidents. Okay, sometimes wires get crossed. There are thousands of strands in some of the cables they lay. Maybe a pink one got switched to a light pink wire, and bam! the manhole blows.  Or red to black. It happens all the time! Right?

I guess I do wonder why it doesn't happen more often. There are lots of wires, lots of colors, and very few in my opinion, of flying manhole covers (I understand they weigh over 200 pounds each-falling to earth like the autumn leaves). I am thankful for a wonderful group of technicians who know how to do their job.

I hope National Grid does not take this as ordinary, and figure out what the heck is going on. If this is old infrastructure that is worn, or out dated, it probably will be ordinary, and we are in deep trouble without a real commitment to fix these things. And our rates will rise, problem solved or not... watch!

Blame the Referees!!!

Because the NFL professional refs are locked out, there has been a lot of blame put on the poor refs from other venues, non-professional part-timers, who have taken over temporarily. These guys and gals (that is important to note) step onto the field prowled by giants (literally) and are expected to keep order, forcing these often uncontrollable behemoths to play according to the rules. The refs do what they can under the circumstances, and the big guys are usually very respectful, despite, I am sure, many temptations to tell the refs where to get off, or simply tear them apart. Fortunately, there is some locus of control in the players who for the most part are accepting of the situation.

Then comes the hard part. A disputed call on the final play of the game, where two players from the opposing teems appear to have caught the same ball in the end zone, and it is either a winning touchdown or a game ending interception. Whatever happens here, it is the refs fault. The call is a touchdown, the review is a touchdown (or not conclusive evidence to overturn the call on the field.) And it is the refs fault that one team lost and the other team won. Some one said: "The Packers got screwed!"

Now I ask you, is that fair. These teams are good. But they play a somewhat mediocre game for almost three hours counting time outs and intermissions. (These are important because strategy is developed during these times, so what is a time out is actually important to the way the game is played.) If they really put a full effort into it throughout (maybe they did, and then I am mistaken when I call them good teams) it would not be the referee who makes the final judgment call. (It is hard to argue that a team put in its best effort when a franchise quarterback gets sacked 8 times, or when they give up the ball with 51 seconds remaining.)The winner would be apparent. The refs who are probably in it over their heads are not really the final arbiters on a field where all the players and coaches are raking in millions of dollars each. It is the players themselves who hold their own destiny, and who ultimately decide who wins and who loses.

Certainly, since they get paid enough, they can and should do their job, and lay off the substitute refs who are trying their best to do theirs.

Jesus Married?

The report today is that they have found a fragment of ancient writing indicating Jesus had a wife. Of course the question arises, "does this change anything for you?" as asked by one CNN newsroom personality. And my answer is, "You betcha!"

I should get a crowd to go to that University professor's house and we would picket, yell obscenities, yes, even crucify him and his colleagues over this disregard to our faith. We should find out the professor's ethnicity and smear his name and origins. We  should tear up his library, burn his car, and a few tires on the front lawn. The news would cover it and testify that thousands of us were there, and that all Christians around the world are furious over his little piece of parchment enshrined in a little glass slide. He will never get away with this kind of heresy. The outrage will spread.

The pope will speak for all Christendom as the pope spoke out in favor of the earth centered universe that was under attack by Galileo and his intellectual cohorts back in the 1600s. He spent the rest of his life under house arrest, and there is no reason why this hot shot Harvard guy shouldn't do the same for shattering my bliss and the millions of Christians.

Whoa! Isn't that a bit extreme? Not really when you consider we like to be extreme in our society. If you are not extreme, you are no where. A wuss. A middle of the road squirrel who will get run over. You have to stick to your guns, no matter what the scholars and men of reason might say. Science, archaeology, whatever, is only there to mess you up. They solve problems that are not there, and get us all upset.

Okay, okay! Let's look at this more objectively. We have a piece of writing from around the year 200 that refers to Jesus' wife. That's about the same time frame that the New Testament was deemed to have been completed with the book of the Apocalypse. There have been discoveries over the years of thousands of documents relating to Christianity dating from before that time which were not included in the Bible, but which tell history as it was lived at the time, and which have historical facts, or traditions that shed light on the Christian community and lived faith of the people of that time. (We should look for truth and embrace it wherever it may be.)

Did Jesus have a wife? The research on this one fragment indicates a yes answer. Before I agree, I would like to see some corroboration from another source. That may come. If there is further proof, then we may have to change some things. (Maybe they will change anyway.)

A no-brainer would be the idea of celibacy for priests. Perhaps also the place of marriage in the Christian culture, maybe elevate that higher than the priesthood. Maybe the place of women in society, since it would appear that Jesus is an egalitarian who actually, physically and emotionally, loved one.

Some discussion questions: What does it mean to have a person whom we call God actually marrying one of us earthlings? What would that say about his title? What is faith anyway that made Christians put Jesus so far beyond the human pale that we stopped seeing him as human at all? Why do some people think they have to solve God's problems by rioting and killing in his name? (As a note here: the actual number of people who protested outside American embassies around the world may have been a few thousand or less. Most of the 1.7 billion or so Muslims were carrying on their regular schedules of work, school, child care, etc. like we were doing here in America- except for Chicago.)

Long Haul Politics

I was born after the Great Depression which began in 1929 and ended in the early 1940s. That was a real bad time. Up to 25% unemployment. FDR did some things, early in his presidency, and nothing seemed to happen. About midway through his second term, the federal deficit turned into a surplus, and unemployment continued to be about 18%, and it wasn't until 1942 that the country returned to "full employment." http://eh.net/encyclopedia/article/Steindl.GD.Recovery

As I read through the above cited article, I realized one thing, how complicated it is to solve the problems of  a nation, that is in a world of other nations. And then I listen to the current arguments that presidential candidates,  representatives, and senators offer up to get our current economy moving again. Actually, there is very little out there that hasn't been tried. Except perhaps co-operation, patience, and time.

One solution offered today is to lower taxes, cut spending, get the deficit under control, and voila, all the problems will be solved. Full employment, great government (fewer employees, fire fighters, cops, teachers, etc.) but somehow there will be more jobs. I don't get this. Maybe it is too simple an answer to a complicated problem.

The other solution has to do with raising revenue, make government more efficient by enforcing rules and regulations that would stifle fraud, create jobs with a building program that would leave a viable infrastructure for our grandchildren (as opposed to reducing taxes on us now ignoring the infrastructure and leaving our grandchildren with a pile of rubble, and letting them build what they want to and pay for it themselves.) I am glad that someone thought about our generation and left us an interstate road system, some decent bridges, nice parks, and so on. They also made us a fairly safe and secure country with decent educational opportunities.

This was all done with bi-partisan support, over time.

I know if a politician says truthfully that it is complicated, and there is no definite solution, but some things can be (have been ) put in place, and it is necessary to hunker down for the long haul, that person would not be elected to anything, but maybe should be. I also know that anyone who offers a simple solution is naive, just like me, and that person is probably playing to my fears.

Empty the Swamp- Drain the Stress

Lately, I have made it my business to become an expert on stress, mostly handling all the factors that come my way, sort of stress from inside out; or how you can empty the swamp when you are up to your a#$ in alligators.

And that is exactly what is important, knowing the problem. Alligators really can put a crimp in your stride. Know this, and you can adjust. Not know this and you are severely hobbled, even dead.

Another important thing is to know your swamp. Parts of it are deeper than others, and instead of your a#$, you are in over your head. This can happen in an instant, or over time. Either way, it is bad.

So these are two lessons from the swamp that relate to stress. I could probably go on, and lamely link other swamp things like bugs and muskrats to the analogy, but I won't.

My best advice on dealing with stress, after you know you have a problem and are dealing with it satisfactorily, check again and make sure you are seeing it correctly, and dealing with the problem in a reasonable way. Friends, people who care about you all can be a big help in improving your perspective. Sometimes you want to reject any and all suggestions out of hand, but remember, people are trying to help. And you have to welcome the help or your stress level will rise, and panic can set in. Bottom line, after listening, you decide on the action to be taken, and you call up that old virtue of fortitude (the habit of making decisions with out regret) and move forward.

It is good to remember that you are never really alone as you face life's decisions, even though you are the only one who is responsible to make them. Talking with people helps to reinforce the decision, and in this reinforcement, there is a reduction in negative stress. It really works.

Reaching out to others is one of the best remedies to reduce stress. Often, we like to go it alone. (No one needs to help, no one needs to know the problems, I can handle it.) This may work for a while, but it will take its toll on you in many ways, emotionally, mentally and physically. Talk about the issues that confront you. Open the door for alternative thinking. Keep up a lively social life that can be a support in difficult times. (Sometimes it is not good to be too liberal with bad news. You can make a lot of other people unhappy by one trip to the supermarket.) It helps to be sure the network that you have built is strong and positive.

Most of all, in any stressful period (or better yet, all the time) remember that you are number one. Take care of yourself, eat well, and exercise. Walk. Go miles a day. Share the walk, add talk and conversation. Do a workout at a gym where there are people on different journeys through life, and have some fun.

And the swamp is drained and the alligators are gone!

Learning about art

On this beautiful late summer day with a light breeze and glaring sun, I walked the half mile to Old Austerlitz where an art workshop was taking place. five or six participants were deep into the second day of the program, adding oil paint color to the brownish hued base acrylic painting they had done the day before. The artists were deep into their work attempting to get the exact colors of the sun soaked landscapes and buildings, and the appropriate shadows. It was fascinating to see.

This was another of my "where has this been all my life" experiences. I went to catholic schools when I was young. Art was not on the daily agenda for most of us, unless making mother's day cards with a rosary as the border around it, or pasting construction paper together to make some strange silhouette of the nativity,  is considered art. My time in high school was spent on the important things like math, language, literature, history. There was no time for art. Some kids did manage to take some art classes, and I must say I admire that now.

Some aspects of it still confound me though. I remember going to the National Gallery of Art in the early 1960s to an exhibition of contemporary art. One piece that I will always remember was a totally black canvas entitled "Nine shades of black." As I gazed at this work which I thought took a lot of guts to hang up, I began to notice the different shades, and there were nine carefully drawn squares (3 X 3) with the nine different shades. I had to study it a long time before I could be sure there were nine different shades of black, and none of them were a dark shade of brown. It didn't grab me like some of the other paintings did at the time, but of all of them, this one I remember.

Abstract Painting contains three distinct shades of black, which become visible only after prolonged looking. Reinhardt was intensely sensitive to such subtle variations. He explained, “There is a black which is old and a black which is fresh. Lustrous black and dull black, black in sunlight and black in shadow.” When Reinhardt’s black paintings were first exhibited at MoMA, in 1963, their reductive imagery and stark palette shocked visitors, prompting at least one Museum membership cancellation in protest.

http://www.moma.org/collection/object.php?object_id=78976

And this painting brings me back to the workshop. When I went there on the first day, after the artists had done a lot of work in acrylics in the searing sun or buggy shade, they were discussing some of the points of painting which are probably elementary, but were news to me. They talked about paintings that were content rich, color rich, or line rich, and if you didn't have content, then the other two are very important. For some reason, the "Nine shades of black" didn't measure up in any of the three categories, at least in my view. Yet it made it to the National Gallery of art. My guess is the artist was famous and this was a curious study that he put into the collection.

I hope to take a course in art one of these years. Maybe even do the workshop if it is offered again. My grandchildren should be able to brag about the grandfather who started painting when he was very old, and not only will he have a lot of silly blogs on the library shelf, but some "art work" to store in the closet.

Once in a life time

"I can still feel the roar of the trucks. The monster tractors of past years were much better though."- Al.

Last night I had the opportunity of a lifetime. For the first time in my 70 years or so, I witnessed a "tractor"  pull at the Chatham Fair. Only they didn't use tractors, as indicated by Al's statement above. Retrofitted high powered pick up trucks with terrifying names painted on them like "Hell's Vengeance" or "Dragon Fire" replaced the magnificent tractors of yesteryear. It was not your father's pickup. These monsters must have had about 24 cylinders in them.

And they did roar. Deafening. And the ground shook. And I wanted to run. But there is something transfixing about the scene of one of these over sized, beefed up trucks pulling a huge apparatus the size of an 18 wheeler about the length of a football field in several seconds. The towed apparatus slowly applied pressure to its braking system until the pick up could no longer tow, usually because the front end of the truck was too high off the ground for the driver to manage the vehicle.

The trucks roared and so did the fans, and some one was declared a winner. I am not sure what constituted  a win- perhaps distance, with time an additional factor. I joined in the applause at the end. Someone did a good job.

All in all, you could smell the fuel burning up, rubber on the track, brakes heating up, transmissions being over worked. Between pulls, a grounds crew using rollers,  graders and other machines similar to a Zamboni, manicured the track.

The spectacle gives one huge macho jolt, enough for many years for me. Where has this sport been all my life, and why have I avoided it so assiduously? Well, I still have my hearing, and I still prefer baseball which "ain't over til it's over" (Yogi Berra), to any timed sport like football or basketball and of course soccer with its weird timing, or even the "tractor" pull with trucks on steroids. Call me a "citiot."

Note from Johnnie Carrier:
Johnnie wrote: "Phil I worked the tractor pulls at Schaghticoke Fair where my brother in law is fair president. My duties were to tow the monsters back back to the pits with a real tractor. Mostly they use Allison air craft engines. And the winner is the one who pulls the most weight the farthest. Nice piece for a ciitot ."

A Game for All Ages-Stone the Grate

From now on, when someone "Googles" "stone the grate" or "can the grate" their search will be productive. You will not get leads to "great stones" or "great beer in cans". You will get this blog and find that "stone or can the grate" is or was a game that kids played before there was Wii, Nintendo, even clue or monopoly. It is a game our great uncle Joe from Detroit taught us when he came to visit our grandmother when we were in grammar school.

Why now? Why talk about this? Well, I started thinking about the game today when my wife and I were having a soda in the screen house. We emptied the can, and for some crazy reason, I proceeded to demonstrate the idea of the game. I placed a soda can on a stone, drew a wide circle, and stood behind the circle to try to knock the can off the stone with a can that I had. I missed with the throw which meant that I had to retrieve my can and get back across the line without being tagged by the person who was it. There were no other participants today, so I had to play all roles, moving back and forth trying to be it and not it at the same time. I was able to cross into the circle, pick up my can, quickly knock the "it" person's can off the grate (large stone), and retreat behind the line before the it person could replace his can on the grate and tag me. If that can had been on the grate, then I could have been tagged while I was getting my can back over the line, so that's why I had to knock it off. I explained all this to my patient wife, and she knew one thing for sure... I was crazy.

It is a simple game that is virtually unknown today, yet it is something that can be played anywhere, especially after emptying a lot of cans at a picnic, and any time of the year.

When Uncle Joe from Detroit (I emphasize that he was from Detroit because we had two other uncles Joe) taught us this game, we used rocks instead of cans. After we had smashed our fingers enough times with the rocks, we ventured across the street to a greasy gas  station and picked up a bunch of empty oil cans. These were real tin cans, and they made the game really fun. They were lighter than rocks, less dangerous (except for minor oil fumes), and they made a lot of noise.

We played the game a lot in our backyard one summer. And then the neighbors started complaining, the noise, the happy sounds of us playing and shouting, arguing over whether the line was crossed or the can was on or off the grate. And mom decided to help us out by making bean bags from some old denim trousers, as a substitute for the cans. It eliminated the clanking, but not the fun, and the arguments to solve the problems of the great game where there were no umpires or referees.There were no tremendous skills involved.  and so a very level playing field.

Uncle Joe from Detroit was in his 60s when he showed us how to play, so probably he had played this in the late 1800s.

Thinking about these things gets us back to our roots, where we have come from as individuals, as families and as a consumer nation. We are glad  for where we have been, and like to pass on some of the fun to future generations. If the power goes off, and there is no Wii, then we can still have some fun. We should not forget the games of our youth.

We should also like to leave the future generations a land where there is clean air, a level playing field, and a decent infrastructure so the lights won't go out. These too are things that we have grown up with and we owe to the future generations.