March 12th, 2013

Tags

aviation, food, nature, outdoors, restaurants, transportation

On another one of the many dreary, gray days in our neck of the woods the Old Men of the Mountain met on Tuesday, March 12th at the Hilltown Café in Rensselaerville where though it was gray outside, the inside seemed to be filled with sunshine, and the great typical diner aroma. Too many houses today have air scrubbers, or air purifiers, or burn aromatic candles to cover up the great smells of food cooking in kitchen.

An apple pie in the oven, bacon or sausage frying in the pan, bread or rolls warming on top of the stove, turkey roasting, a good steak sizzling on the fire…they don’t make fragrances like this. The OFs say all the scents are lady smells. Essence of lilacs, that smells no more like lilacs than that of the essence of roses, or essences of apple blossoms. They all smell alike, and hurt the nose.

Where is the essence of horse, or the essence of gasoline, or the essence of motor oil? The OFs say the real aromas are when the OF goes from the machinery shed after maintaining the tractor with the smell of the oil-soaked wood floor, into the wood shed and its smell of oak, and then into the kitchen with the wonderful smell of what’s cooking.

No wonder people today are so stressed out. The calming natural aromas have been removed and replaced with all the phony scents that are nothing but chemicals and everybody is breathing them in. “Well,” one OF said, “I do shower and shave and clean up before going out. I don’t want to go out smelling like what I had for breakfast.” Then one other OF responded, “We all do that; that is not what we mean. What we mean is trying to make nature something that she ain’t.”

A different OF suggested that some of nature’s smells are not that pleasant. Some examples would be: cooking fish, liquid manure, and essence of skunk is none too pleasant either, or a house that harbors one hundred cats and not enough litter boxes ─ and that list of aromas can go on and on. This OF said nature can be pretty nasty in the smell department when it wants to.

Then an OF alleged that smell is the most prominent of memories. This OF said we can remember smells longer than any of the other senses or emotions. Now how are the OFs going to check that one out? The OFs will have to be with another OF the minute he gets ready to kick the bucket and the final words he utters will be, “I remember the smell of my first diaper.” Then the OFs will know and we can report that it is true.

One OF brought in a history (which he had borrowed so he could return the document to another family member) of a cemetery which is located in the Hilltowns. This history was of the families who are buried there. Many cemeteries do not have a history of all that are buried there. The only history would be of the families that have relatives buried there, and maybe some good friends. It would be neat if in the beginning the caretakers, or those of the cemetery board, would get some kind of history of everyone buried in a particular cemetery starting with grave number one. It is too late now to go back two hundred years, but it would a fun job for someone to pick a cemetery and try to resurrect this information. Most cemeteries have information on prominent people interred there, but the obscure ones not so. The average Joe Smith, or Sam Jones, or Mary Whoever, are remembered mainly by family members, and when in some families the family members eventually die out the names become just that ─ names ─ on weather-beaten stones.

Sometimes the OFs wondered if being in a state of constant hurt put many of the OFs in the grave. One OF thought his grave marker should be, “Here I lie beneath this dirt, thanking God I no longer hurt.” One OF wondered if just being in constant pain affects our thinking. This OF thought that we do not do enough in this country with acupuncture because the way he understood the process it does eliminate pain for periods of time. Another OG said that is the first time he has even heard the word in years.

The OFs talked about early risers, and those that have a tendency to sleep in. It seems the OFs that are sleeper-inners, have no sympathy for those that rise early when they start complaining they are tired at two in the afternoon. The early risers grumble about those that sleep late by saying they are wasting the best part of the day by laying in bed. To the early riser there is nothing like the feel of a beautiful morning and sunrise, and the sleeper-inner says there is nothing like a beautiful sunset and the sounds of evening.

The early riser said that rising early in the day lets you get more done because when the heat of day comes you can take a nap until it starts to cool off again. When the guys that sleep in and get up late, the heat of the day is beginning to start, and then you have to work in this heat to get anything done. Who can do their best work with sweat running in their eyes?

Many of the OFs discussions seem to have no end ─ they just go round and round. However, for this day this little report has to come to an end, and it has.

Those OFs that made it to the Hilltown Café in Rensselaerville (regardless of when they got up) were: Bill Rice, Bill Krause, Roger Chapman, Robie Osterman, George Washburn, Frank Pauli, John Rossmann, Harold Guest, Otis Lawyer, Mark Traver, Glenn Patterson, Jim Heiser, Jack Norray, Gary Porter, Mace Porter, Dave Williams, Henry Whipple, Don Moser, Gerry Chartier, Mike Willsey, Ted Willsey, Jim Rissacher, Harold Grippen, and me.

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January 22nd, 2013

Tags

aviation, food, gaming, restaurants, transportation, videogames

On a rather cold Tuesday, the 22nd of January, the Old Men of the Mountain met at the Middleburgh Diner in Middleburgh. Most of the OFs said that they came through Schoharie (and not over the mountain) to get to Middleburgh. That is the long way around for most of the OFs but Cotton Hill can be a little tricky to navigate in the winter months.

As the OFs talked about maneuvering the hills they noted the beautiful vistas that come into view, especially the views that pop up when traveling some of the tertiary roads in the hills. Many are spectacular equal to any place in the country. What brought this about was the sun shinning on Vroman’s Nose early in the morning with a tad of snow on that outcrop of rock. The view was wasted on the OFs that had their backs to the windows of the Diner.

The OFs hope that they are right in the name of the hollow off to the left when going down Treadelmire road from Cotton Hill road toward Abrams road and Gallupville. (This road is not recommended for the squeamish.) The OFs think it is Rundy Cup. There is a Rundy Cup mountain. The OFs think a nice ride would be to have breakfast at the Middleburgh Diner, take a right out of the parking lot about eight hundred feet, maybe less, to Cotton Hill road. Make a right on Cotton Hill (you have to make a right, making a left will place you in a driveway going into an equipment shed). Then just past the top of the hill and a little bit on the way down towards Dutch Settlement, Treadelmire road is on the left. Good luck, and oh, bring jacks, towing cable, and a couple of sandwiches to go from the Diner (just in case you become hung up on one of the ledges that cross the road) and a camera.

The OFs began talking about expiration dates on food and how much food is thrown away that is still perfectly good. Milk was the first example. None of the OFs pay any attention to that, except one OF who said that either his daughter, or daughter-in-law…oh-oh (this scribe has a very tiny note book, and makes very tiny notes, and sometimes they are hard to translate when putting words on this white screen. When the notes are really bad this scribe skips them all together because everything that is in this report is real you know). Back to the milk, and the daughter (or daughter-in-law) who chucks it even if it is three-quarters full because of the expiration date printed on the package. The same goes for cereal. The OFs said that your nose, or the curdling in coffee, will let you know when milk is bad. If an egg is black or slimy, or has a blood spot, or smells rotten it probably is, then it is bad. When bread has spots of mold on it then it is bad.

The shelf life on peanut butter is pretty short according to what is on the label, but the OFs say that some of the peanut butter they have used is a year old and older. Syrup is another thing. One OF reported finding some syrup in the back of the cupboard and used it on pancakes then looked at the price sticker and it was nine years old but it was just as good as when they bought it.

Cheese is also another thing. Hard cheese that is. Just cut the mold off and go ahead put the rest on that piece of apple pie. The OFs asked how much good food is thrown away because some people pay too much attention to the use-by labels.

Most of the OFs are gregarious and giving people and this was pointed out this morning because from out of nowhere an OF started mentioning that he gave something away that he had no use for, and a friend of his knew someone who could use it. This OF knew the friend of course, but had no clue who the recipient was but gave it away anyway. The recipient went to use it and it didn’t work. The friend came and thanked the OF for letting his friend have the machine but it didn’t work. The friend wasn’t complaining nor was his friend it was just a point of information. The OF who had the machine in the first place did one of the standard hmmm….O.K…and then the OF went to the fellow who had the machine and the OF spent half a day getting it going, then took the time showing him how to operate it.

All this was done in the name of being a good neighbor and for no other reason…not money, not I am a good guy, not for bragging rights…the OF just did it because it was the right thing to do. This story came about by the OF asking a simple question of another OF at the breakfast if his fix was right. (Last sentences were this scribe’s thoughts).

Guns were still a topic, however, as one OF put it, “Now that we are all criminals, and have to fear the police knocking on the door the OF bond is tighter still, remember the Calico Indians.” Again, enough of that.

The Old Men of The Mountain offer their condolences to Ted Willsey, and his family in the passing of his wife Dottie. Dottie has been ill for quite awhile and is now at peace and in the hands of the Lord.

The OFs that made it to the Middleburgh Diner in Middleburgh and who noticed that cars today seem to start right up no matter how cold it is were: Roger Chapman, Roger Shafer, Harold Guest, Harold Grippen, John Rossmann, Frank Pauli, Robie Osterman, Glenn Patterson, Steve Kelly, Jim Heiser, Jim Rissacher, Bill Krause, Lou Schenck, Jack Norray, Mace Porter, Gary Porter, Mike Willsey, Elwood Vanderbilt, George Washburn, and me.

October 2nd, 2012

Tags

food, gaming, nature, restaurants, transportation, videogames

The Old Men of the Mountain by John R. Williams

Again those up early had a chance to catch a glimmer of sun, however, on this date October 2^nd, 2012, the sun quickly ran away to hide behind the clouds. Also on this date the Old Men of the Mountain met at the Blue Star restaurant in Schoharie. The OF’s straggled in and filled in the area the restaurant had already prepared for the OGs. The inside of the Blue Star was bright, warm, and dry as the OFs watched the grey skies roll in on the outside, but their spirits were not dampened…the OFs were comfortable and eating.

Some of the OFs noted that along the way to the Blue Star restaurant in Schoharie many groups of deer were encountered. One vehicle reported four groups of from four to six deer ― in each group ― in a six mile stretch of highway on the hill. Spotting these critters darting across the road from out of the hedgerows has many drivers slow their speed, and cuts the chatter in the vehicle as all eyes are focused on spotting the animals before they are splattered at too fast a speed, and there are dents and fur all over the front of the car. Leaving a dead animal of that size in the road is much more traumatic than leaving a squashed squirrel.

The OFs mentioned that our area is approaching the peak of the deer rutting season (the hill coordinates are about N 40-44 Longitude, and W 70 or so Latitude. At these coordinates the deer rutting season is about the middle of September to the middle of November) so when traveling on the hill during this time of year especially, it is eyes on the road at a prudent rate of speed which should keep the driver from a deer/car confrontation.

As the OF’s gather around the table in the various restaurants we attend, the waitress/waiter comes around and asks what we want to drink. At some restaurants they already have the cups up and ready, and a few know which OF gets the decaf and which gets the high test coffee. Many times at these places the waitress has a carafe of each at the ready. This is very important because some of the OFs show up with the coffee shakes and the hands do not stop wobbling until they have that first jolt of caffeine. Then after the caffeine kicks in, and the wobbling stops those particular OFs will join in the conversation.

It is almost a regular part of the OF’s tête-à-tête to compare what it was like way back when God was experimenting with dirt, and how to make it, and His plan to make the dirt perpetual so he didn’t have to mess with all the time. The OF’s were watching God figure this all out and they were offering their suggestions. They were comparing then to how “things” are done now.

As the OFs were at the Blue Star having breakfast the subject of breakfast came up and double-yolk eggs. One OF said that he has not seen one of those in years. The OFs around this OF at the table agreed and wondered why this was. There is nothing wrong with a double yolk egg other than it has more cholesterol in it than a regular egg because of the double yolks. One OF suggested that when the eggs are candled the double yolks are yanked so they don’t come to market. This OF mentioned how his mom would candle the eggs and take out the ones with blood spots, but not the double yolked ones. There was nothing the matter with those. The double yolked eggs were really good for swiping a well-buttered piece of toasted home-made bread by it folding in half and then eating (and cleaning the plate at the same time).

Now that the OFs had time-warped, they started talking about haying again and how different it is now than when they were doing this necessary farm chore. One OF told a story of when field balers first came on the scene and he was on the baler pushing wires, a girl from a couple of farms up the road came to help bale and she was doing the twisting, or hooking, on the other side of the baler. On this particular day things were going along normally when all of a sudden the girl jumped from her seat on the baler and ran screaming across the field. The OF’s father who was driving stopped the tractor and the OF who was pushing the wires got off the baler as the father ran to see what had happened to the girl. The OF ran around to the other side to see what was wrong with the baler that would make her take off like that. What the OF found was that the baler had picked up a snake, and about 4 or 5 inches of the snake was sticking out of the bale swinging its head back and forth with its forked tongue darting in and out all over the place. No wonder the young lady took off screaming; if this snake was on the OF’s side of the baler he might have taken of too.

Before we had hay balers we put hay in loose. The hay was picked up from the windrow with a hay elevator, and a couple of guys would mow it away on the wagon. Quite often the OFs (particularly if they were family members) would have a sibling rivalry as to who could get the most hay on the wagon before either they or the hay started falling off. Another OF told a story of almost the same as the snake story, where all of a sudden the two mowing the hay on the wagon from the hay elevator took off across the field flaying their hands about and yelling. This time it was obvious. The loader had gathered a large group of ground bees that were in the windrow and these bees were a little ticked off and took it out on the two who were on the wagon. The OF said that some of those bees got ‘em, too, as they ran.

Once balers came out that were automatic, and after that “kickers” were developed, the bales were kicked right into a wagon with high sides and back so only one farm-hand was needed. All that farmer had to do is drive the tractor, and know how to fix a “knotter”. This device was designed by Satan. It was what tied the baling twine together after a bale was completed, and it was continually forgetting how to tie a knot. The OF’s said, “who knew then what was baled up inside those bales, and with the newer round bales there could be anything wound up inside of one of those things.” Another OF said, “And how about silage? After field-chopping the corn and bringing it to the ensilage blower who knew what got blown into the silo?” “Good source of protein for the cows,” one OF said.

The OFs that made it through the mine-field of deer to the Blue Star restaurant in Schoharie were: Robie Osterman, George Washburn, Roger Shafer, Roger Chapman, Carl Slater, Miner Stevens, Jim Hauser, Glenn Patterson, Ted Willsey, Duane Wagenbaugh, Bob Ssome, Joe Loubier, Harold Guest, Frank Pauli, John Rossmann, Bill Bartholomew, Dave Williams, Henry Witt, Lou Schenck, Gary Porter, Mace Porter, Jack Norray, Dom Moser, Arnold Geraldsen, Don Wood, Mike Willsey, Harold Grippen, Jim Rissacher, and me.

If anyone is interested at fair time, the fair in Altamont has, in their old equipment shed, a hay loader that is generally rigged up to run.

 

September 18th, 2012

Tags

food, gaming, nature, plants, restaurants, videogames

The Old Men of the Mountain by John R. Williams

The Old Men of the Mountain’s marching orders were to Mrs. K’s Restaurant in Middleburg on Tuesday the 18^th of September and foul weather caught up with the OFs, but we need this weather. Not the OFs — they need a lot more than foul weather to catch up to them, but we need rain for the parched ground of our locality. The sages of the group say that if we get driving rains with the ground as hard as it is it will just run off. Anything will be of some benefit these same sages say, but it won’t be as good right now as three days of a slow drizzle. This, the OFs say, will soften the ground and the water will sink into where it is needed, including the wells that have gone dry. All the OFs nodded their heads in agreement and added their two cents because the conversation was a discussion on what most of the OFs (Old Farmers) knew.

The discussion continued on to not only how dry it is on the hill, but the OFs suppose in many other places…like half the country. Some OGs were talking about their gardens and digging down to harvest and/or plant trees, and they were getting dust at twenty to twenty-four inches down. That is dry.

The same conversation on weather and gardening turned to the specific planting of tomatoes. According to the OFs they either have them in abundance or not at all. One OF said that his are great and good size but seem to have scars on them, and another one said he can’t tell because the deer ate them all, and with another it was woodchucks. One OF said all his are volunteer tomatoes and another said he had fifty-fifty percent volunteer, and fifty percent were planted. (Volunteer tomatoes are the ones that come up by themselves from last year’s crop). It seems though, that by the OF reckoning there is enough tomatoes among them to go around.

Then what continued was a discussion on Farmers Markets and there are a few on the hill, and in the valley of Schoharie where according to the school song (history tells a tale). The Hilltown markets are basically home-grown produce and the OFs take advantage of these markets and in the fall make use of them to get their corn, squash, tomatoes, cucumbers, potatoes, beets, and items like that. Most are so fresh that they are still covered with dirt, and the corn might still have the morning dew on it.

Many OFs see people take a nice ear of corn and peel it back and if there is a corn borer at the top they put the ear back, or throw it away. That little worm does not affect the corn…just whack off the little piece on the top where the borer is and put the rest in the pot. When discarding that ear of corn (because of the corn borer) the OFs say that ear may be the best one of the lot. Some people cook the corn with the husk on in the microwave, which the OFs say is the best way to do it…that little borer will get cooked to a frazzle. The OFs say go ahead and eat the whole ear and get a little protein with your starch.

What fit in nicely, and followed this discussion on food and its preparation (you guessed it) the OFs started talking about buying clothes and how many of them are in a class called “portly”. The OFs are portly because just like glass we are not a solid and as the OFs age they settle. What once was a large manly chest is now a (well still in the male gender) gut. What used to be muscle on the arm has now got a little swing of flab to it so the OFs have to purchase clothes that are the same style but of a different cut. The OFs mature…really mature…figure requires this fuller cut. Slim is out, regular is out, portly is OK; thank goodness none of the OFs need the fat size. There are some OFs though, that are of the big and tall gents sizes.

At the breakfast the OFs start filing in anywhere from around eight a.m., to nine a.m. On this particular morning an OF showed up without his normal counterpart. After this OF sat and joined the group he was asked, “Where is your traveling buddy, is he OK?” The OF answered that his traveling buddy called and asked “Whose turn is it to drive?” The OF said, “It’s my turn.” Then the traveling buddy said “OK, then I’m not going!” Well now that should tell you a lot. Talk about taking the wind out of your sails. No one ever said the OFs are subtle.

Those OFs that made it to Mrs. K’s Restaurant in the middle of Middleburg and came no matter who was driving were: Harold Guest, Mark Traver, Glenn Patterson, Robie Osterman, John Rossmann, Miner Stevens, Steve Kelly, Bill Bartholomew, Art Frament, Bob Benac, Frank Pauli, Don Wood, Carl Slater, Dave Williams, and guest Bill Williams, Duane Wagenbaugh, Bob Ssome, Joe Loubier, Don Moser, Lou Schenck, Gary Porter, Mace Porter, Jack Norray, Carl Walls, Gerry Chartier, Mike Willsey, Harold Grippen, and me. At this breakfast a few more of the OFs said their goodbyes until next year as they flew the coop for warmer winter climes.

July 31st, 2012

Tags

cortisone shots, food, hot mustard, john r williams, miracle cure, restaurants

The Old Men of the Mountain by John R. Williams

Gather up the wagons partners. It is off to Middleburg we go to see what Mrs. K has cooked up. So the Old Men of the Mountain did just that on Tuesday the 31^st of July, and now we are into August. Mrs. K had whatever you wanted for breakfast; it wasn’t beans and franks ladled out of a metal garbage can over a wood fire with a big wooden paddle on a metal plate and a large plop of applesauce on one corner of the plate because that metal plate gets darn hot from hot food. No siree Bob! Not at any of the restaurants the OF’s trek to. We use real plates and cups, not plastic or Styrofoam, and real food not franks and beans. (Although many of the OFs say they like franks and beans with hot mustard.)

At the ages of most of the OFs our most common ailment is arthritis. The conclusion of many discussions that the OFs have had is that there are many remedies out there and most do not work at all, and only a few may give (and the operative word here is may) some relief. At this morning’s breakfast we had one OF report on the benefits of yellow raisins, fermented in vodka, or gin. The OF said he heard that vodka would work, but he used gin. This OF said that his fingers on both hands would click with the arthritis and he would have to get cortisone shots in his hands. (That did not sound like fun.) The shots would only last for a little while and then his fingers would start to click again.

Then the OF said, what the heck, he would try this raisin recipe. So the OF went to the store and purchased some golden raisins and mixed them with the gin and took nine a day and bingo the click was gone, and his hands now feel fine.

The scribe went home and checked it out on the internet and by golly there were tons of information from different sources on just what the OF was talking about. So here is the recipe for the Golden Raisin/Gin miracle cure for arthritis.

1 pint of Gin

1 box (15 oz) Golden Raisins (not the dark ones)

Place raisins in a quart jar and pour the entire pint of gin over the raisins. Cover and give a good swirl to insure all the raisins are covered.

Cover the jar and let set for 7 days. (DO NOT REFRIGERATE)!

Give jar another good swirl at the end of 7days.

Eat 9 raisins a day and watch the arthritis melt away.

Do not cheat and sip the gin — there is no benefit in that.

This is a report from one OF, and the rest of the OFs offer no guarantee that this will work but when you have arthritis there is one thing you want and that is relief.

This brought up the subject of bee stings for accomplishing the same thing…the relief or cure of arthritis. One OF said that there are doctors that do use the useful and beneficial insects in performing this treatment. It is one treatment only and the OFs said they know someone who has had this treatment and it worked for him. Apparently the bee venom stimulates the body’s own cortisol which is the natural version of synthetic cortisone. All the OFs have had a cortisone shot at one time or another. One OF said the gin thing sounds a lot better to him than going and get stung by a bunch of bees. The OF said he has been stung before and didn’t like it, and he wasn’t stung on purpose.

The OFs were in Middleburg, and the village is celebrating its 300^th anniversary on August 3^rd-4^th– and 5^th, and on the 4^th they will have a large parade. Unfortunately, this will be in the Enterprise after it happens, but many of the small towns in the Schoharie Valley are still in tough straits after the August they went through one year ago. The OFs hope all their plans work out, because many of these small towns are trying their best to come back after the one-two punch of Tropical Storms Irene and Lee. The OFs feel the towns have done a lot in one year, however, one year is not going to solve all the problems that they were left with.

Next topic discussed was how early is early? To some early is 4 a.m. and that is some of the OF’s rising time. To others it is “I am sleeping in until noon” and that makes 1 p.m. early to them. To still others it is whenever they decide to get dressed. Early rising may be one time, but their early ‘to do’ time is another. Many of the OFs who are retired say “What do you think I retired for — so I can rush around and do things? Heck no. I am retired and things will get done when they get done.” Other OFs are busy all the time. Retiring to these OFs is like leaving one job where they had to work as someone told them and then going to another job where no one tells them what to do (well there is a little exception to that, and it has a name, and it is wife) but themselves. Big difference! It seems these OFs work harder for the second boss than they did the first. (The wife bit was an alternate boss at both jobs.) So early is subject to many clarifications as to what it is and to whom it is. To some it is when the grass is still wet with dew, and to others the sun has already dried the grass out.

Those attending the breakfast at Mrs. K’s Restaurant in Middleburg and having to get there pretty early to get the cream chipped beef on toast before it runs out were: Dave Williams (with guests Bill Williams, son and Hugh A. Williams, otherwise known as Art, nephew), Bill Bartholomew, Robie Osterman, George Washburn, John Rossmann, Jim Watson, Joe Loubier, Duane Wagenbaugh, Steve Kelly, Roger Shafer, Henry Witt, Frank Pauli, Jim Hauser, Glenn Patterson, Carl Walls, Don Moser, Arnold Geraldsen, Mace Porter, Gary Porter, Don Wood, Jack Norray, Lou Schenck, Jay Taylor, Bob Benac, Al Dorey, Roger Fairchild, Carl Slater, Jim Rissacher, Harold Grippen, Harold Guest, Mike Willsey, Ted Willsey, Gerry Chartier, and me.

 

Tuesday March 6th 2012

Tags

food, nature, outdoors, restaurants, travel, vacation

Tuesday, March 6, the Old Men of the Mountain were still in Schoharie County at the Blue Star restaurant on Main Street, and of course the flood devastation which is still evident in the valley brought up a discussion of the same kind of destruction caused by the recent tornadoes in the Midwest. The OF’s started drawing parallels which was only natural.

As the OF’s talked it was apparent the only real parallel is the loss of homes. With the tornadoes many OF’s mentioned how swift and fast they came and people had nowhere to run, whereas the flood, in most cases, gave some time to get to higher ground. With the tornadoes the homes were completely flattened; with the flood many were washed away never to be found, and left others standing is one form or another but still uninhabitable.

The hardy tornado victims can, and one OF threw in if they have the financial wherewithal, start rebuilding right away, whereas the valley flood victims have to wait to be sure the mold is gone, the wiring is ok, and the house is not contaminated, and even then they have to get permission to build where the house stood because of its proximity to the flood plain.

So, as one OF put it, this is a case of similar, but by no means alike. Then another OG said, “Why is the planet so mad at us, the way nature is knocking us off, do we really have to worry about over population?” Then an OF said, “They have these population clocks based on birth — how about a death clock, so we all can see how it balances out.”

An OF brought up the thought that the birth clock can be reasonably projected, but the death clock would be tough because instead of going tick, tick, tick, it would have to go tick, tick, and then an earthquake or a tsunami could happen and thousands would perish. So therefore the clock would have to go tick, tick, and then tiiiicccckkk.

The OF’s thought a large math clock at Times Square would be slick. A clock that would record births and deaths and compute the difference; then when one of these natural disasters would happen a huge minus would appear and the clock would show the new difference with how many more births would have to happen to catch up.

(Scribe’s note: another segue on how one discussion just flows {no pun intended} from one to another.)

As spring approaches the OF’s are again watching birds as they return. The red-wing blackbirds are back, flickers are here, the robins never leave, and no OF has seen swallows yet, but the winter birds have had a great time of it so far this year. One OF who resides at Warner Lake says the lake has not frozen over; there has been open water all winter.

This chatter led us into sap and the tapping of trees. Some of the OF’s do this and produce their own maple syrup. These OFs say the sap is running quite early this year, and they have noticed buds on trees, and the early spring bugs running around, which one OF said would explain the flickers.

This brought up an interesting story from one of the OF’s who has family in Alaska, and he has also lived in Alaska. He reported that in that state they tap the white birch trees and as we have maple syrup, they have white birch syrup. The OF said it does taste different but it is not bad. Then one OF added that there is a new commercial out that touts corn sweetener as sugar, and says sugar is sugar…well, the OF’s say tain’t so. A cracker turns to sugar in your gut, but it tain’t sugar.

One OF said he sure wouldn’t put maple syrup in his coffee, or corn sweetener, or a cracker. They are all supposed to be sugar but don’t tell the coffee that.
Speaking of all that maple tree tapping brought up the Kiwanis maple festival breakfast at the Knox fire house, on Sunday, March 25^th, from 9 to 1:30, pancakes and all that good stuff. (Talk about a plug) Anyway, here is a chance to taste real maple syrup against Mrs. Butterworth’s.
Those OF’s that made it to the Blue Star restaurant in Schoharie, and some ordering pancakes and using syrup that wasn’t maple were: Miner Stevens, John Rossmann, Jim Heiser, Mark Traver, Glenn Patterson, Frank Pauli, Dave Williams, Gary Porter, (not Potter), Jack Norray, Robie Osterman, Roger Chapman, Roger Shafer, Steve Kelly, Harold Guest, Ted Willsey, Jim Rissacher, Willard Osterhout, Gerry Chartier, Mike Willsey, Harold Grippen, and me.