The story about the dog reminds me of a little beagle dog I had once. He just showed up at my house, an older dog but still very active, he seemed healthy except that one ear had a missing piece that was shaped like another dog may have taken a bite out of it. We named him Stray Beagle.
He loved to hunt rabbits. I don’t hunt. He was a nice little house dog and liked the kids and all, but he got no hunting in my house. My father took him up to the Adirondacks to hunt snowshoe rabbits several times, and praised the dog’s abilities. Once the dog ran the rabbit far away from where my father was, and it got dark so he couldn’t be tracked through the woods. My father left a blanket along the road and went back late that night, and there was Stray, curled up waiting.
One day a neighbor who lived about a mile down the road but only a short distance ‘crosslots’ came to my door. “Can your little dog come out ’n’ go hunting?” he asked. The man did a lot of rabbit hunting, and walked from his house up into our old pasture land. Seems Stray had been out one day and they met up, and Stray ran him some rabbits. The man hunted them, and took them to New York City to sell. They met many times for a nice day hunting when George decided to make sure this was all right – I can’t recall his last name, nor do I know how he figured out where the dog lived, he may have checked some of the other neighbors and just narrowed it down. From then on, he would come park in our yard, and Stray would run out to meet him and off they would go.
On one of his trips back from New York, George was killed in an accident. For weeks, Stray sat on the porch, looking down the driveway and up into the fields. Sometimes he would trot up into the fields, be gone a while and then come back and keep looking for George to come along and take him hunting.
A while later, the dog disappeared. I’d like to think that he found someone who was rabbit hunting and just went on home with them.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
All I know is what I read in the papers . . . .
“Man dies saving best friend”
There’s a very sad story in the area news today about a man who died after being hit by a car. Details: one icy day last week, he slid off the highway into the ditch. He wasn’t hurt, but when he got out of his car to examine the damage, his constant companion, a black and white, medium size mix-breed dog named Babycakes jumped out and ran to the road. The owner followed it, and while trying to get his best friend off the highway, a car hit him. According to a relative, the dog now sits at the end of the driveway, waiting for him to come home.
How many of us would have done the same thing, ran after the pet with no thought to our own safety? Hopefully with not the same tragic results.
How many people would not leave their pets behind during Hurricane Katrina (and who knows how many other disasters)? The largest animal rescue effort ever, after Katrina, led to legislation mandating that people be allowed to take pets when being evacuated from a danger zone.
What would you do? Do you have a plan to take your best friends along if you have to suddenly leave your home? What if your house (God forbid) caught fire? Once again, people have been injured or worse when trying to rescue pets.
If you haven’t, start thinking about what to do in an emergency. In this fellow’s case, having the dog tethered in the car would have prevented it jumping out and running. Animals don’t understand things like a fender-bender, and their flight or fight reflex takes over.
Have carriers handy so if you have to get out quickly you have a place to put the pet – once you and the animal get outside, the noise, people, lights, and confusion will frighten the animal so much it might get loose and run off – or back into the building because it will not understand the danger there.
Have pet records where you can get them easily, have a travel kit made up if you live in an area where you might have to evacuate. If you travel with your animals, keep them secure in the vehicle. Think through a rescue plan so it’s in your mind if you need to use it.
And stop and think – rescuing your best friends is foremost, but at what peril to yourself? Don’t leave them sitting at the end of the driveway waiting for you to come home.
Our sympathies are with the man’s family – and with Babycakes.
There’s a very sad story in the area news today about a man who died after being hit by a car. Details: one icy day last week, he slid off the highway into the ditch. He wasn’t hurt, but when he got out of his car to examine the damage, his constant companion, a black and white, medium size mix-breed dog named Babycakes jumped out and ran to the road. The owner followed it, and while trying to get his best friend off the highway, a car hit him. According to a relative, the dog now sits at the end of the driveway, waiting for him to come home.
How many of us would have done the same thing, ran after the pet with no thought to our own safety? Hopefully with not the same tragic results.
How many people would not leave their pets behind during Hurricane Katrina (and who knows how many other disasters)? The largest animal rescue effort ever, after Katrina, led to legislation mandating that people be allowed to take pets when being evacuated from a danger zone.
What would you do? Do you have a plan to take your best friends along if you have to suddenly leave your home? What if your house (God forbid) caught fire? Once again, people have been injured or worse when trying to rescue pets.
If you haven’t, start thinking about what to do in an emergency. In this fellow’s case, having the dog tethered in the car would have prevented it jumping out and running. Animals don’t understand things like a fender-bender, and their flight or fight reflex takes over.
Have carriers handy so if you have to get out quickly you have a place to put the pet – once you and the animal get outside, the noise, people, lights, and confusion will frighten the animal so much it might get loose and run off – or back into the building because it will not understand the danger there.
Have pet records where you can get them easily, have a travel kit made up if you live in an area where you might have to evacuate. If you travel with your animals, keep them secure in the vehicle. Think through a rescue plan so it’s in your mind if you need to use it.
And stop and think – rescuing your best friends is foremost, but at what peril to yourself? Don’t leave them sitting at the end of the driveway waiting for you to come home.
Our sympathies are with the man’s family – and with Babycakes.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Chimp Attack Cartoon
What I read in the papers:
Okay, so the whole chimpanzee attacking a woman thing was bad enough. And the more I read about the owner and how she treated it - well, thinking on how I am with my pets, I guess I can't say anything. The victim has now been moved to a hospital that can do more reconstructive work, as I understand it. Whole thing gives me shivers.
But what gave me more than shivers was the cartoon in the New York Post the day following it. That was just about the most offensive thing I have ever seen published. I mean, yeah, the Second Amendment, Freedom of the Press and all that, but geez loweeze, folks, have some compassion, some just plain old common sense! That was just plain disgusting. Whole thing reeks of self-serving sensationalism. I see they have now offered 'explanations' and 'apologies'. I have yet to read those. Below is my letter to the editor.
To the Editor
New York Post
Your cartoon of February 18 is appalling, and an insult to people of sensitivity and sensibility everywhere.
Whether or not the intent was to show a racist theme, it does this. A responsible artist and newspaper needs to look not only at the content of the cartoon, but also at how it will be perceived by your readers. This was not done.
It also makes light of a horrible event that left physical and emotional scars on those involved in it as well as those reading of it who are caring people.
You have shown by printing this cartoon that you are not. It is an insult and an affront to animal lovers and to people of ethnic background.
An apology is due all. You were wrong and now need to have the integrity to stand up and say so. But, since you thrive on controversy and outrageousness, you won’t, you will consider this a circulation builder, and continue to exploit it. I would never spend a cent on your paper, and only know of this cartoon through sources other than yours. You are cowards and trouble-makers who live on the misfortunes of others. A sad commentary on what the press could really accomplish.
Barbara Peduzzi
1925 State Route 203
Chatham, NY 12037
518-392-4587
Okay, so the whole chimpanzee attacking a woman thing was bad enough. And the more I read about the owner and how she treated it - well, thinking on how I am with my pets, I guess I can't say anything. The victim has now been moved to a hospital that can do more reconstructive work, as I understand it. Whole thing gives me shivers.
But what gave me more than shivers was the cartoon in the New York Post the day following it. That was just about the most offensive thing I have ever seen published. I mean, yeah, the Second Amendment, Freedom of the Press and all that, but geez loweeze, folks, have some compassion, some just plain old common sense! That was just plain disgusting. Whole thing reeks of self-serving sensationalism. I see they have now offered 'explanations' and 'apologies'. I have yet to read those. Below is my letter to the editor.
To the Editor
New York Post
Your cartoon of February 18 is appalling, and an insult to people of sensitivity and sensibility everywhere.
Whether or not the intent was to show a racist theme, it does this. A responsible artist and newspaper needs to look not only at the content of the cartoon, but also at how it will be perceived by your readers. This was not done.
It also makes light of a horrible event that left physical and emotional scars on those involved in it as well as those reading of it who are caring people.
You have shown by printing this cartoon that you are not. It is an insult and an affront to animal lovers and to people of ethnic background.
An apology is due all. You were wrong and now need to have the integrity to stand up and say so. But, since you thrive on controversy and outrageousness, you won’t, you will consider this a circulation builder, and continue to exploit it. I would never spend a cent on your paper, and only know of this cartoon through sources other than yours. You are cowards and trouble-makers who live on the misfortunes of others. A sad commentary on what the press could really accomplish.
Barbara Peduzzi
1925 State Route 203
Chatham, NY 12037
518-392-4587
Which Mom Is My Mom?
I’ll do this one now while I have it in mind: the ‘which Mom is my Mom’ story.
Way back when Jeanie and I were both without husbands or other male companionship, and the kids were quite small, Penny was maybe 6 or 7 or so, Sara 3 or 4, Mary 2 or 3, somewhere along in there, we decided it would be fun to take them to The North Pole, a Santa Claus themed tourist trap up in Wilmington, NY, at the foot of Whiteface Mountain. So my folks went to Indian lake, and I guess the kids rode up with them, probably they left early in the day and Jeanie and I went up later, probably after we got off work. We think that was the trip where the guy ran into the side of the Saab, again another story and no one including the cars got hurt.
At any rate, this was before we had our own place up there, and we were staying at Margaret’s cabin down on the lake. We got up early Saturday morning and crammed all of us (as I remember) into the Saab – that’s four adults and three kids, mind you - and took off for the North Pole. It was fall, and cold. We made lunch to bring along and stopped at a rest area to eat. Well, my father decided he wanted some thing hot and so he built a fire and was trying to toast a cheese sandwich over it, holding it with two sticks. And then, because it was fall and cold and in the mountains it started to snow, so there we were in the snow, having a picnic, and my father was still trying to toast the cheese sandwich, without dropping it in the fire. I have pictures.
Continued on to the North Pole, met the elves and Santa Claus, had the pictures taken with Santa, the whole deal. Crammed back into the car and went back through Indian Lake, of course taking a different route to see more of the countryside.
When we got back, we had supper, visited for a while and then somehow my sister and I got together with some friends there and went out. We hit every tavern in and around Indian Lake – which is more than you might expect for a town that size – and ended up in somebody’s apartment after the taverns closed. (I was teasing ‘Uncle’ LeRoy when we visited him last Sunday that every place we went, he managed to end up there that night.) I think it was maybe around 4 a.m. when we finally made it home and fell into bed, pulled the covers over our heads and went to sleep.
Kids being kids, they got up at about 7, way before we were ready to be mothers. Sara toddled into the bedroom, and went back and forth between the beds staring at each of us. Nothing showed but the tops of our heads. After several minutes of staring, but not moving the covers, she went back to the other end of the house where my parents were sleeping and said, nice and loud: “Grammy- Grammy, which mom is my mom?”
PS, this is the same Sara who would invariably know when I had been out too late on a Saturday night and come in to my room early on Sunday mornings, and start patting me on the forehead and say “Mommy – Mommy, make me eggies!”
Way back when Jeanie and I were both without husbands or other male companionship, and the kids were quite small, Penny was maybe 6 or 7 or so, Sara 3 or 4, Mary 2 or 3, somewhere along in there, we decided it would be fun to take them to The North Pole, a Santa Claus themed tourist trap up in Wilmington, NY, at the foot of Whiteface Mountain. So my folks went to Indian lake, and I guess the kids rode up with them, probably they left early in the day and Jeanie and I went up later, probably after we got off work. We think that was the trip where the guy ran into the side of the Saab, again another story and no one including the cars got hurt.
At any rate, this was before we had our own place up there, and we were staying at Margaret’s cabin down on the lake. We got up early Saturday morning and crammed all of us (as I remember) into the Saab – that’s four adults and three kids, mind you - and took off for the North Pole. It was fall, and cold. We made lunch to bring along and stopped at a rest area to eat. Well, my father decided he wanted some thing hot and so he built a fire and was trying to toast a cheese sandwich over it, holding it with two sticks. And then, because it was fall and cold and in the mountains it started to snow, so there we were in the snow, having a picnic, and my father was still trying to toast the cheese sandwich, without dropping it in the fire. I have pictures.
Continued on to the North Pole, met the elves and Santa Claus, had the pictures taken with Santa, the whole deal. Crammed back into the car and went back through Indian Lake, of course taking a different route to see more of the countryside.
When we got back, we had supper, visited for a while and then somehow my sister and I got together with some friends there and went out. We hit every tavern in and around Indian Lake – which is more than you might expect for a town that size – and ended up in somebody’s apartment after the taverns closed. (I was teasing ‘Uncle’ LeRoy when we visited him last Sunday that every place we went, he managed to end up there that night.) I think it was maybe around 4 a.m. when we finally made it home and fell into bed, pulled the covers over our heads and went to sleep.
Kids being kids, they got up at about 7, way before we were ready to be mothers. Sara toddled into the bedroom, and went back and forth between the beds staring at each of us. Nothing showed but the tops of our heads. After several minutes of staring, but not moving the covers, she went back to the other end of the house where my parents were sleeping and said, nice and loud: “Grammy- Grammy, which mom is my mom?”
PS, this is the same Sara who would invariably know when I had been out too late on a Saturday night and come in to my room early on Sunday mornings, and start patting me on the forehead and say “Mommy – Mommy, make me eggies!”
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
All I Know Is What I Read In the Papers:
Police: Islamic TV station founder beheaded wife
In the Buffalo, NY area - a side story to this one leads me to believe it’s an ethnic (for want of a better word) thing. They were going through a messy divorce, and who knows what triggered it. He turned himself in after doing this. Charged with second-degree murder, how they figure those levels of charges I can’t figure out. Not that there hasn’t been a similar atrocity in a WASP setting, but this is another nail in the intolerance of other religion/culture/etc. lid. Ick!
02/16/09 05:31 PM
Fire in fire hall damages trucks, ambulances
Also in the Buffalo area, what’s going on out there? One truck burned up, the building was heavily damaged and other trucks and an ambulance suffered lesser damage. A small, rural company, I’m guessing, although the report did not say for sure. Whether that or a larger one, it’s a blow to the department and their coverage area. No doubt surrounding companies will step in to take up the slack, that’s what we do.
Woman's life in danger after chimp attack
Now this one just boggles my mind. The woman went to her friend’s house after the friend called to say she couldn’t get her pet chimp Travis (ok, who names a chimpanzee Travis?) in the house. Turns out the chimp had a history of aggressive actions. Oh, and not a cute little Tarzan movie size chimp, nope this guy was a 200-pounder. That’s past pet status. No matter how long you’ve had them, how sweet they are, they are a wild animal. Any animal can ‘turn’, no matter what kind, how tame, some thing can set them off. But chimps, the article says, are 3 times as strong as a human of comparable size and more unpredictable than many. So why would you have one for a pet? Who knows? Now the owner has lost the chimp (it was destroyed by the police who were called to the scene because it was going after them, and I know that some ‘animal people’ are probably outraged but, hey - - -) plus her friend will be permanently scarred both physically and mentally, if she lives through the attack. What are some people thinking? Who knows?
In the Buffalo, NY area - a side story to this one leads me to believe it’s an ethnic (for want of a better word) thing. They were going through a messy divorce, and who knows what triggered it. He turned himself in after doing this. Charged with second-degree murder, how they figure those levels of charges I can’t figure out. Not that there hasn’t been a similar atrocity in a WASP setting, but this is another nail in the intolerance of other religion/culture/etc. lid. Ick!
02/16/09 05:31 PM
Fire in fire hall damages trucks, ambulances
Also in the Buffalo area, what’s going on out there? One truck burned up, the building was heavily damaged and other trucks and an ambulance suffered lesser damage. A small, rural company, I’m guessing, although the report did not say for sure. Whether that or a larger one, it’s a blow to the department and their coverage area. No doubt surrounding companies will step in to take up the slack, that’s what we do.
Woman's life in danger after chimp attack
Now this one just boggles my mind. The woman went to her friend’s house after the friend called to say she couldn’t get her pet chimp Travis (ok, who names a chimpanzee Travis?) in the house. Turns out the chimp had a history of aggressive actions. Oh, and not a cute little Tarzan movie size chimp, nope this guy was a 200-pounder. That’s past pet status. No matter how long you’ve had them, how sweet they are, they are a wild animal. Any animal can ‘turn’, no matter what kind, how tame, some thing can set them off. But chimps, the article says, are 3 times as strong as a human of comparable size and more unpredictable than many. So why would you have one for a pet? Who knows? Now the owner has lost the chimp (it was destroyed by the police who were called to the scene because it was going after them, and I know that some ‘animal people’ are probably outraged but, hey - - -) plus her friend will be permanently scarred both physically and mentally, if she lives through the attack. What are some people thinking? Who knows?
Monday, February 16, 2009
A Memory A Day
My sister and I took a trip down memory lane this weekend. We went up to Indian Lake, a quiet little town in the Adirondack Mountains that our family has been going to for about 70 years. Well, that was one of the debates we had, was about what year we first went up there, because Jeanie said it was about 1945 or so and I said no, because my folks always told me I was the result of a warm afternoon during hunting season when no deer came past the lookout they were at. Which may explain why I love that area so much, and am definitely a ‘mountain person’ as opposed to an ‘ocean person’.
Anyway, in the course of our two + days of reminiscing, we agreed that the trouble with people getting old and leaving us is that then all of their stories are gone with them and that is a shame because the stories are such a nice part of them. So we both vowed to try to write down some of the stories we have and we remember. And, I thought since some are worth sharing, that this would be a nice place to do some of it.
So here goes. Well, no, not here goes, because I have to tell about the weekend. It was Indian Lake’s Winter Carnival. Indian Lake, as I said, is a small town, I’ll guess somewhere between 1,000 and 1,500 year-round population, which swells during the summer and hunting and snowmobiling seasons. It’s not a resort, not what I call ‘plastic tourist’, with tacky souvenir stands on every corner, although you can find a few of those in the area stores, along with the day-to-day merchandise the residents need. It’s a quiet little place where people can go and relax, swim, go boating, fishing, things like that – no amusement park, no ‘house of wax’, like Lake George, about 50 miles south. And the mountains all around: Snowy, Sawyer, Blue, Chimney, and so many more. And lakes and rivers and streams – the Hudson River starts a ways north, but there’s lovely little Cedar River, and of course man-made Indian Lake and the Indian River, Lake Adirondack, Abanakee, Blue, and again so many more.
Our family has a plot in the local cemetery, my parents are there and I will probably join them, and I can’t think of a nicer place to spend eternity, in the shadow of the trees, next Cedar River Road – and a little highway where a few trucks will go by to keep me company.
Anyway – this weekend, the carnival – nope, no big parades, although there was a torch run down the ski slope and fireworks there last night (we didn’t stay, it would have gotten us home quite late). But there was a snowmobile poker run and a snowshoe walk, and a book sale at the town hall, craft sale at the American Legion Hall, breakfast at the firehouse both days, pasta dinner at the high school, roast beef dinner at the Methodist church, and time to go sightseeing and visiting in between.
The high point of the weekend, though, seemed to be the Tricky Trays at the high school on Saturday night. If you’ve never done tricky trays: you buy an envelop of slips of paper with a number on them, 10 for $1.00 – of course you need more than one, you need at least 5 and probably more like 10 or 20. It’s all for the Junior Class. Then you join a long line of people winding around rows of tables set up on the gym floor, with things on trays set out on them (the assortment included several spaghetti dinners; pasta, sauce, cheese, a tool box, lots of shampoo and conditioner combos, lotions, fish poles, t-shirts, toys, and so on), pick the ones you’d like to win and put a slip with your number on in a cup or coffee can next to the those. Then you sit down and a couple of the school kids announce the winners and pass out the prizes. And you cheer and clap when someone in your group wins. I didn’t win a thing, but our group got several things including a tray filled with candy bars, an oil change (a door prize, won by a teenager who didn’t live there and doesn’t drive, never mind have a car, so she passed it to the strangers behind us, it’s that sort of an event), and a nice folding camp chair.
It seemed to be that a few people won quite a few things, but overall it was pretty much spread out. The kids doing the drawing were quite entertaining – there were several boxes of homemade cookies (yes, I did put a number in every one of those) and each time they’d announce ‘donated by ‘so-and-so’ – oh, yeah, she makes some goo-ood cookies, you're gonna like these!’
The next day, everyone we went to visit who hadn’t been there wanted to know if we won anything, so it is obviously a big event. Who would have thought. Yup, it’s as cornball as it gets, but it made the class about $2,500 as near as I can figure, and in a town that size, to make that much in one evening is a pretty good deal.
And I bet that some of the things will be back on the tables next year. I may have to go back to see.
As far as the stories go, we went down to the old farm our friends used to own, and sighed at the changes. The house has been remodeled, the big porch across the front is gone, as is the kitchen wing to one side. The old smoke house is still there, and a little chicken coop, but the big barn is gone, victim of a fire many years ago. The foundation is still there, and we had a lively debate about if that was where the barn was, because we remembered it being closer to the house, but turns out we were remembering a long gone garage. We both remembered playing in the barn, I remembered playing in a huge long tank of some sort, and my sister remembered having her first cigarette in the chicken coop. We remembered swimming in Griffin Brook, just down the road, and playing ‘Pooh Sticks’ (and if you don’t know how to play Pooh Sticks, just ask) on the bridge. The brook is grown in now and probably you couldn’t swim in it at all, but it was deep enough then to jump off the bridge and not hit bottom.
They had a collie dog who would go up on the mountain by the farm to get the sheep, and an old horse - who came to live on our farm, along with the remaining cow they had, when the family moved in to town. When I was little, I used to get terribly car sick on the ride up there, but my parents called it ‘horse fever’, they said it was because I was so excited ( was ‘crazy over horses’) that I would see the horse and get to ride him.
Yup, it was a memory lane trip for sure. We stopped a few places to look at the view and I got out and scrambled around on snow banks to take pictures and my sister sat in the car and sketched. Visited our friends there. Ate too much. Had a good time.
We also spotted the old bar that we went to the night before the ‘which mom is my mom’ morning, but that’s another story. And it may take a few days to get to another one, but I will keep them coming as much as I can.
Anyway, in the course of our two + days of reminiscing, we agreed that the trouble with people getting old and leaving us is that then all of their stories are gone with them and that is a shame because the stories are such a nice part of them. So we both vowed to try to write down some of the stories we have and we remember. And, I thought since some are worth sharing, that this would be a nice place to do some of it.
So here goes. Well, no, not here goes, because I have to tell about the weekend. It was Indian Lake’s Winter Carnival. Indian Lake, as I said, is a small town, I’ll guess somewhere between 1,000 and 1,500 year-round population, which swells during the summer and hunting and snowmobiling seasons. It’s not a resort, not what I call ‘plastic tourist’, with tacky souvenir stands on every corner, although you can find a few of those in the area stores, along with the day-to-day merchandise the residents need. It’s a quiet little place where people can go and relax, swim, go boating, fishing, things like that – no amusement park, no ‘house of wax’, like Lake George, about 50 miles south. And the mountains all around: Snowy, Sawyer, Blue, Chimney, and so many more. And lakes and rivers and streams – the Hudson River starts a ways north, but there’s lovely little Cedar River, and of course man-made Indian Lake and the Indian River, Lake Adirondack, Abanakee, Blue, and again so many more.
Our family has a plot in the local cemetery, my parents are there and I will probably join them, and I can’t think of a nicer place to spend eternity, in the shadow of the trees, next Cedar River Road – and a little highway where a few trucks will go by to keep me company.
Anyway – this weekend, the carnival – nope, no big parades, although there was a torch run down the ski slope and fireworks there last night (we didn’t stay, it would have gotten us home quite late). But there was a snowmobile poker run and a snowshoe walk, and a book sale at the town hall, craft sale at the American Legion Hall, breakfast at the firehouse both days, pasta dinner at the high school, roast beef dinner at the Methodist church, and time to go sightseeing and visiting in between.
The high point of the weekend, though, seemed to be the Tricky Trays at the high school on Saturday night. If you’ve never done tricky trays: you buy an envelop of slips of paper with a number on them, 10 for $1.00 – of course you need more than one, you need at least 5 and probably more like 10 or 20. It’s all for the Junior Class. Then you join a long line of people winding around rows of tables set up on the gym floor, with things on trays set out on them (the assortment included several spaghetti dinners; pasta, sauce, cheese, a tool box, lots of shampoo and conditioner combos, lotions, fish poles, t-shirts, toys, and so on), pick the ones you’d like to win and put a slip with your number on in a cup or coffee can next to the those. Then you sit down and a couple of the school kids announce the winners and pass out the prizes. And you cheer and clap when someone in your group wins. I didn’t win a thing, but our group got several things including a tray filled with candy bars, an oil change (a door prize, won by a teenager who didn’t live there and doesn’t drive, never mind have a car, so she passed it to the strangers behind us, it’s that sort of an event), and a nice folding camp chair.
It seemed to be that a few people won quite a few things, but overall it was pretty much spread out. The kids doing the drawing were quite entertaining – there were several boxes of homemade cookies (yes, I did put a number in every one of those) and each time they’d announce ‘donated by ‘so-and-so’ – oh, yeah, she makes some goo-ood cookies, you're gonna like these!’
The next day, everyone we went to visit who hadn’t been there wanted to know if we won anything, so it is obviously a big event. Who would have thought. Yup, it’s as cornball as it gets, but it made the class about $2,500 as near as I can figure, and in a town that size, to make that much in one evening is a pretty good deal.
And I bet that some of the things will be back on the tables next year. I may have to go back to see.
As far as the stories go, we went down to the old farm our friends used to own, and sighed at the changes. The house has been remodeled, the big porch across the front is gone, as is the kitchen wing to one side. The old smoke house is still there, and a little chicken coop, but the big barn is gone, victim of a fire many years ago. The foundation is still there, and we had a lively debate about if that was where the barn was, because we remembered it being closer to the house, but turns out we were remembering a long gone garage. We both remembered playing in the barn, I remembered playing in a huge long tank of some sort, and my sister remembered having her first cigarette in the chicken coop. We remembered swimming in Griffin Brook, just down the road, and playing ‘Pooh Sticks’ (and if you don’t know how to play Pooh Sticks, just ask) on the bridge. The brook is grown in now and probably you couldn’t swim in it at all, but it was deep enough then to jump off the bridge and not hit bottom.
They had a collie dog who would go up on the mountain by the farm to get the sheep, and an old horse - who came to live on our farm, along with the remaining cow they had, when the family moved in to town. When I was little, I used to get terribly car sick on the ride up there, but my parents called it ‘horse fever’, they said it was because I was so excited ( was ‘crazy over horses’) that I would see the horse and get to ride him.
Yup, it was a memory lane trip for sure. We stopped a few places to look at the view and I got out and scrambled around on snow banks to take pictures and my sister sat in the car and sketched. Visited our friends there. Ate too much. Had a good time.
We also spotted the old bar that we went to the night before the ‘which mom is my mom’ morning, but that’s another story. And it may take a few days to get to another one, but I will keep them coming as much as I can.
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