To HDTV or not to HDTV? Why is it a yearly Black Friday question?

Spouse and I were reminiscing about them good old days.  The good old days when you bought a TV set and the main decision was....19 inch?  or 25 inch?  And then you went to the store and saw which picture looked the best. You looked at the ads for the best price.  Maybe checked a magazine like Consumer Reports.

Fast forward a lot of years.  The last several Novembers, leading up to Black Friday, it has become a game to torment ourselves. 

When we were in our 20's we (for a variety of reasons) went through two periods of not having a television.  This may amaze anyone under the age of 40 who reads this blog.  I did miss it, especially because I couldn't watch my favorite show of the time (M*A*S*H).  But I really didn't miss it that much.  And as a result, a TV has not been a truly important part of my life for years.  (Now, on the other hand, they would have to pry my computer out of my cold, dead hand.).

Today, we had our yearly beat-ourselves-up session on the computer to research HDTV's.  Now, as we read, households with HDTV's are now the majority.  So should we take that plunge?

I feel pulled by seeing friends with HDTV's and how nice the picture looks.  So seductive.  But on the other hand, our Magnavox 19 inch "picture tube" TV has served us well, for many years, and that picture is nice too. Why get rid of something that still works?  And spend almost $1,000, to boot?  I don't want just any HDTV.  I want one that is internet-enabled, so I can stream Netflix movies.  And maybe watch You Tube videos on.  And....(see how the computer functions sneak in there?)  $1,000 is a lot of money.  We are grateful to have the money to spend but....wouldn't there be better uses?

Aren't we lucky to be in that position, a small voice tells me.  And, do you really need a TV?

And, will that set be reliable?  Or will it be like the glitchy refrigerator that keeps breaking down in the same way, or the washing machine (the one machine we bought new and not used) that we finally gave up on after about the 5th time the same component, a plastic piece of s**t, broke, and went back to buying used? (and not a front-loader either.)

While on the other hand, spouse (who hardly uses the computer except for checking his bank accounts), feels like he is being dragged into some kind of loathsome new age that he never wanted to be a part of.  He feels forced.  One day soon, our Magnavox will be obsolete, left in the dust.

So.. (oh, how I hate to say this)....stay tuned.

Dangerous Bargain Penguins

She was standing there by the end of an aisle, on her crutches.

There but for the grace of the timing of me hurting my ankle, that could have been me.

I had to admire her courage, braving the Penguin booksale earlier this year.  There were hundreds and hundreds of bargain hunters in the warehouse, intent on getting books for themselves, gifts for the holidays, books for libraries or daycares or homeschools, or day care centers. Or, for all I know, sale on eBay.  (It wouldn't surprise me.)

Over the years, a new element has entered the fray.  Wheeled suitcases.  Seemingly every one of them loaded with books.  At one point I tripped on a wheeled suitcase (hadn't seen it, in the crowd) and went flying.  Luckily I had my air cast on and I didn't resprain my ankle.

One thing I do have to mention is that people actually are somewhat polite, as hordes of bargain hunters go, at this annual sale.  There's no shoving, and people (usually) apologize.  But I really think they should ban the suitcases, at least the small ones that aren't easily visible in the fray.  I wonder how many people, over this week, actually did get injured.

And I hope that lady got out of the warehouse OK.

Would I have gone to this sale if I was still hobbling around on crutches?  Since I had a companion, possibly.  Which shows you how crazy people can be when it comes to a bargain.

Random Acts of Kindness

I saw something inspiring, as we get closer to the Thanksgiving season, this afternoon.

I had gotten out of work early for a couple of appointments.  After the appointments, spouse decided we should get our Thanksgiving turkey.  We did so, and then remembered that a nearby Aldi had good sales on fresh cranberries and also celery.

I don't know if you have an Aldi's where you live.  If you do, it is an interesting concept.  Aldi is actually a huge chain in Germany, with stores in various stores on the Continent and also in Great Britain.  In the United States, for some reason, they initially came in as a "bargain" store, with (in my opinion) dirty, ill lit stores.  I would not shop there for years.  You couldn't get a shopping cart without paying a deposit. You had to bag things yourself (and if you didn't bring bags, they would gladly sell them to you.)  The employees "did it all", the same people doing store cleanup, stocking, and cash register.

When my son took German in school, his teacher came in one day with an Aldi ad from Germany.  What a difference!  Aldi in Germany is almost like a combination grocery/department store.  But meanwhile, back in upstate NY...

Due to that ad, we gave them another shot.  'They had seriously upgraded the stores in the meantime, with better lighting and edible produce. So we do shop there on and off, depending on the sales. You can't beat their prices, although I don't think I would ever buy fresh meat there.  But they do have a number of really decent store brands (they sell very little national brands, if you care about that-I don't) and when they have specials on German food....well, they are German.

At one time, their target clientele, to be blunt, was lower income people.  But now with the economy, you find a lot of middle class people in there too.  Times are hard.  I'm grateful for the Johnson City Aldi.  (they've even opened a second store just to the north of Binghamton).

Anyway, there we were getting ready to check out.  We only had three items.  The line was long, although the lines there tend to move quickly.  The person at the back of the line had an overflowing cart. "Here, go ahead of me."  The next person also let us in, and also let go ahead of him a person right behind us who had two items.  His clothes were a little dirty and he walked like he had a stiff leg, with a limp.

We struck up a conversation with the man with the limp.  He had some extra money because he had sold two cars at auction today.  He had been up since 5 am.  It was a good day for him, because he was able to buy another car to fix up and sell.  Best of all, it was his birthday.  He couldn't see why he should spend $30. at Texas Roadhouse when he could buy some frozen steaks and cook him at home (we don't know if he had a loved one waiting for him.  I hope so).  He was so glad to be spared a few extra minutes on line, so he could get home and rest.

I hope this gentleman had a wonderful rest of the day, due to this random act of kindness.

Fun at the Penguin Book Sale

Books about penguins?  No, the Penguin USA book sale - the book event "of the year".

People come from hundreds of miles in order to shop.  It is sheer madness.

Years ago, the sales used to be held right at the Penguin (in those days, Penguin-Putnam) facility off I-81 in Kirkwood (right near the Pennsylvania border), and it was for only one weekend in November:  Saturdays and Sundays.  At those sales, there were books and other items around the perimeter of the warehouse, and people fought their way to the tables to get the goods.  And were they ever the goods:  Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew hardcovers for 50 cents each, childrens books by major authors for $1.00, bestsellers hardcovers for a song.  Some of these must have been "irregulars" but no one cared.

I bet a lot of people in upstate NY, if they got books for Christmas, got them from people who shopped those sales.

I think, with the last one or two years, they also had DK Books and some Readers Digest books.  As I recall, nothing was over $3.00.

This was pre-Internet so it was pre-eBay.  Ah, the good old days.

At that time I had a young child and I dove in for the bargains.  We only went on Sundays:  the Saturdays were impossible.  Fellow shoppers revealed themselves as we shopped together: teachers, parents, librarians, grandparents, daycare workers, employees of nonprofits, homeschoolers.  One person I spoke to once had driven from Albany,almost 3 hours away.  We were so lucky to have this right in our own backyard.  A perk of living in a burnt out industrial town....oh, here I go again.

Lucky even though we lined up for an hour or more outside to get in.  There was always snow on the ground. One year they gave out really neat inflatable globes.  My son loved the toy, but did he ever grow to hate the sales.

And then the sales stopped.

Several years passed, my son grew and became a teen.  Those Eric Carle and then Hardy Boys books were a memory.  Then, the sales began again. For a couple of years the sales were held, for a week only, in a former Ames building.  Prices were higher. The sales (I felt) were junk - a lot of obsolete "Idiots Guide" books and, well, things that were mostly boring to me.  Each aisle seemed to have the exact same books.

Then, two years ago, (I think) the sales moved to a vacant warehouse in Conklin.  More room, and this time more of the good old Penguin Putnam sale flavor.  We went one Saturday, and waited two hours on line to check out.  We know the secret now:  go on Monday (when the hours are 5 to 8).  Get there right around 4:50 or so.  You won't even wait to get in.

I didn't spend this much this year but I am pleased to report there were a lot of bestsellers once more.  And some really good children's books.  A lot of Taste of Home cookbooks (which my spouse, the cook, does not favor.)  Lots of gardening stuff, Readers Digest "how to" books.

Maybe one year (just not yet, please) I will be a proud grandparent getting my grandchildren books.  Until then....well, I didn't get gifts for anyone but it was nice being there.  I did pick up something for the Angel Tree event my employer will be participating in for disadvantaged children (Salvation Army).

Maybe next year they will do it again.

November Thunderstorms

We were awakened in the middle of the night by a huge BOOM!  In my sleep fogged mind I had no idea what had happened.  I didn't hear thunder previous to this and - anyway, in upstate NY, you don't get thunderstorms in November.

So what does this portend for our winter?

Beats me but we are not having the most pleasant weather pattern right now.  It was so windy at noontime that my walking companion and I gave up.  I'm not walking much due to my ankle, but I would have liked to walk a little bit at lunch.  Fortunately, it was not cold.

At least one school district had to close schools.  And, our lights flickered at work - there are other people without power right now.

My spouse, who loves to follow the weather, has a feeling something bad is going to happen (weather wise, that is) right around Thanksgiving.  I hope he is wrong.  But be it as it may, more evidence that the weather is....strange, and unpredictable.

Folding Up into Winter

The last ice cream stands are closing, their picnic tables stacked.  The golf driving range/nursery we get plants from has shut its doors, although it still is displaying "Sale!" signs from their "get rid of the last mums" effort.  Dried leaves blow from yard to yard.  The last trees with remnants of green leaves reach to the weakening light, soaking in the last warm rays of an "Indian" summer before they shut themselves off for the winter.  

The 2010 farmers market at Otsiningo Park is now history. 

We of the Triple Cities prepare for Thanksgiving, decorating in orange and brown and red, while we gird ourselves for the holiday season.  We who are fortunate enough to have jobs look forward to turkey and Black Friday, to local pumpkin pie and candy apples, to cider and warm donuts.

Those without jobs.....pray the food pantries will be full for them.

We remember the summer but know that the first snow flurries and sleet have fallen, and that the streets will soon turn white with snow.

Goodbye Matt Davies

From time to time, I have enjoyed the editorial cartoons of Matt Davies, a Putlizer prize award editorial cartoonist.  Our local newspaper (yes, I read the newspaper!) runs him from time to time.

Oops, I mean "ran".

Ran, because Matt Davies has lost his job.  And it would seem he's not the only one.  Editorial cartoonists are a dying breed.  Sometimes, literally.  Other times, they just are laid off and never replaced.

We as a country, a people, are diminished because of it.

Think about it.  Editorial cartoonists, in a way, are like political comedians.  They make us think.  They point out absurdities.  They are controversial.

Sometimes, I guess, they make us think too much.

But, why lay them off?  Seems that they make a lot of money.  Of course, so do movie stars, producers, and professional athletes.  But is anyone laying off Harrison Ford?  James Cameron?  Or Eli Manning?  Oh, wait.  Those are people in successful industries.

Newspapers, on the other hand are dying.

So what should a dying industry do?  That's right, get rid of their prize performers.  "Ditch" the remaining people that make you want to read a paper.  After all, some wag once said that all newspaper stories are good for is to keep the ads from bumping into each other.  So what do you need prize winning writers in a newspaper for?  Anything will do to fill up the space.

So newspapers continue their death spiral, with more layoffs, leading to less readers. 

One day we will wake up and the daily paper won't be at our doorstep.  Will we miss it then?

Andersonville and Veterans Day

Veterans Day.  Most of us know the symbolism linked to the end of  most hostilities in World War I:  the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of the year 1918. Originally called Armistice Day, various countries now use it to remember both World Wars and call it Remembrance Day.  Here in the United States, it is Veterans Day.  On this day we remember all veterans who served honorably in wartime or in peacetime.

There is a special group of veterans - those who were prisoners of war.

In Andersonville, Georgia, there is a special museum devoted to the POWs of all wars.  Best of all, it is free of charge.  We spent an afternoon there back in March.  Although I was attracted to Andersonville as part of my interest in the Civil War, the museum featured information from a number of wars.  I especially was drawn to the exhibits talking about POWs from World War II.

Many people, when they think of "Andersonville", think of the infamous Union prisoner of war camp, more properly known as Ft. Sumter.  (even today, the county is called Sumter County.) But there is a lot more to the Andersonville National Historic Site.  First, there is the National Cemetary.  The original graves are those of the dead of Andersonville, those who never had a chance to become veterans.  Some names are known, many are not.  This is a portion of that cemetery, which now holds about 20,000. graves of the dead of several wars:

Then, there is the "reconstruction" of Ft. Sumter.  33,000. men held captive on 26.5 acres.  Walking this land, you can almost feel the ghosts.  The "tents" (obviously not originals) in this picture were called shebangs, and the soldiers who owned them were rich, in the society of prisoners-at least they had some shelter from the elements.  During the 14 months of its existence, some 30% of the men confined there perished.  The very first casualty was a soldier from New York State.

These walls are not original, but are based both on photographs and archeological excavations done in the late 1980's.

The stream that watered the prisoners is still there today, along with markers for various "wells" that were dug by the prisoners.

Thanks to archeological digs, historians were able to reconstruct the "deadline", a line inside the walls-if a prisoner went over this line they were shot dead.  For many, doing this intentionally was the way they left the prison.

But...to paraphrase an old "M.A.S.H."...we were able to step in.  We were able to step out.

Sobering.

Walking those grounds was like walking a Civil War battlefield, but in a way even more special.

The final picture is of one of the monuments on the grounds.

One observation was made by the owner of the bed and breakfast in Americus where we stayed.  There were many Civil War prisoner of war sites both in the South and in the North. Both sides were guilty of atrocities towards their prisoners.  But Andersonville may exist as a memorial park because...well, after all, the North won.  And isn't it true, this owner asked me, that victors write the history?

The POW Museum does have a very large map showing the sites of these various camps.  One, which is well known to historians in our "Southern Tier" area of upstate NY, was the Elmira Prison. Sadly (so perhaps that B&B owner was correct) it is true there is no national park there.  There is a monument, but the prison site today is a residential area-and it is said that few people living there know the history of their neighborhood.

Remember your local veteran.

Somewhat Forgotten Roadside History in Georgia

While I am in back the mood for talking about history, and going through some of the photos from my March vacation:  we came across this marker on our trip to the Americus, Georgia area back in March, and our small detour was rewarded.

Off of Georgia 49 near Americus, lies the site of Charles Lindbergh's first solo flight.  Truly, something off the "beaten path" of tourism.  There is a a marker and a statue at this site, Souther Field.

Here is some history of the event.

The area around Americus is very rich in history.  I should spend some more time going through those photos.

Ramblin on Age

So many people my age are caretaking elderly parents.  I have my mother in law (neither of my parents lived to "old age") who we help out long distance.  (knock on wood, she is in relatively good health), my best friend has practically moved in with her 90 plus year old mother (another long distance situation), I have several other friends/acquaintances/co workers in the caretaking of parents situation.

I've also been blessed for the over 20 years we've lived in our house here in the Triple Cities to have the same couple living next door.  When we moved in, the man of the family was taking early retirement and the youngest son of his large family was getting close to college age.  They were enjoying life, their children and their grandchildren (I think they eventually had 23 grandchildren, unless I've lost count), had time for hobbies, their church, and more.

I've seen them age in the past 20 plus years and it hasn't always been a happy journey for them.

We spent some time with them today.  We don't see them as much as we should. I have to admit that sometimes it can be hard to see people that have been a caring part of our lives for so long...well, get old.  But that is no excuse.  They have been almost ideal neighbors.  Their youngest son and his family lived with them for a couple of years (while his wife battled cancer) and he in turn extended friendship to my son.  The son finally was able to buy a house locally and they are out.  My neighbors live alone with a housekeeper and, now, a cat. Both are now frail but still have a lot to offer.

I know my mother in law, who loves to be around people, can be lonely at times, too, because it is painful for her to drive and to get around.

I have to remind myself at times like these that I won't have these good people in my life forever.  And that, one day, I will be in their situation.  When that happens I so hope I will have loving people in my life.  Because old age can be a lonely, frustrating place.

Walking in Area Parking Lots is No Walk in the Park for People with Walking Issues

I had my first morning out since Tuesday morning, when I sprained my ankle.  Now crutch free (but still wearing my air cast) I set forth on my quest.

One thing I've suddenly been paying attention to is the quality of the area parking lots.  Or, should I say, abundance of crumbly asphalt and potholes in said parking lots.   There are a lot of elderly in this area and I think of my mother in  law, who uses a cane, having to negotiate some of these lots if she lived here (which she doesn't) to do her daily shopping.

My first parking lot experience was in downtown Johnson City, at Health Beat foods.  A wonderful locally-run health food store that is a staple of downtown Johnson City, I could only wish that whoever maintains their parking lots could fill in the potholes, some of which (only slight exaggeration) could probably swallow a baby whole.  Well....only exaggerating slightly.  I can only hope that whoever owns that lot never has to don a cast or use crutches to get around.  Luckily my spouse drove me, so he let me out in front of the store.  But I had to walk through that lot to get back to our car.

I find it hard to believe this business was certified "Elder Friendly" (a local certification) with the condition of the lot.  Anyone needing to use a cane or a walker would find it hard walking in that lot.Especially if they were also visually impaired.  Makes my ankle ache just thinking about it.

Yup, really makes people want to shop in downtown Johnson City.  Just think, in a couple of weeks there will probably be ice and snow on the ground to add to the general condition of that lot.   I don't like to get snarky, but I am far from the only one of your shoppers having a disability:  and mine is temporary.  Many folks' disabilities aren't temporary.  They deserve better.

(However, with that said:  thank you, Michelle Moelder, for "hanging in there" in downtown Johnson City all these years, and for running a very nice health food store.)

Then, there was Price Chopper, a supermarket in Binghamton.  A shout-out to Price Chopper, who built their first two Binghamton area stores on the sites of former Endicott-Johnson factories, thus getting rid of eyesores and benefiting our community.  But no shout out for the current quality of the parking lot.  Price Chopper is doing new construction in this shopping plaza and I hope this will include a re-do of the parking lot.

I could give out several more "dishonorable mentions" but I think you all get the general point.

Just because this is a "burnt out industrial town" doesn't mean landlords can't have a little pride in their properties, for the sake of the elderly and disabled.

Dotti Lou Meats

Dotti Lou Meats in Stevensville has been a staple of Bradford County, PA for...well, since we moved here in the middle 1980's. (I'm sorry, vegetarian friends, you can skip this entry, as can anyone who does not eat pork for any reason.)

I can't even remember why, on a trip to acquaint us with this area, we even stopped at this very nondescript roadside store.  I think it must have been the wonderful aroma of wood smoke.  It was a find that helped defined our journey through local food.

We've been coming back every year for...oh, over 20 years now.  We took our son there every year after he was born until he was a teenager and we could make the trip ourselves.  Maybe one day he will go there too, but right now he isn't much of a meat or sausage eater.

Basically Dottie Lou is a rural general store with about 80% of its space devoted to....meat.

Dotti Lou, according to their Facebook page (yes, they are on Facebook!): "We manufacture all of our own meats.  Lunchmeats,hotdogs, kielbassi,hams".   Over the years the place has been brightened, given a new look, but the quality remains the same. Rubs and sauces adorn the counter.  The bacon is first class.  The sausages are wonderful.  Smoked meats, including turkey and chicken, have joined the lineup.   There's a small deli selection including Lebanon bologna.  The prices are right.

But, change happens.  The news is, they have a second location, in Ransom, PA now.  The Ransom location is selling soups and sandwiches which makes me wonder if Stevensville will do this one day, too.

I am going to stick to the original location, as it is closer, but will wonder what will greet me the next time we come to Stevensville next year.  Kind of something to look forward to as we slide into winter.

Journey to the Maquasen and Sinnekens

A native of New York City and an almost-history major in college, I am astounded sometimes by what I never learned in my Bronx school education, and even more astounded when I don't find something utterly amazing until 2010:  and worse, I find it in the Young Adult section of the library.

Sometimes I think the Young Adult (YA) books are more timely and sometimes....I guess, less timely.

Until finding a certain book called "Journey into Mohawk Country" by Messrs. Van den Bogaert & O'Connor, I never knew that a certain Harmen Mayndertsz van den Bogaert had written a diary of his journey from New Amsterdam [New York City] to Ft.Orange [Albany] accompanied by two Dutch and five Maquasen Indians [Mohawk] taking approximately 5 weeks, during December of 1634 and January of 1635.  His mission?  To find out why the Mohawk were abandoning their beaver fur trade with the Dutch in favor of trading with the French.

Until I had traveled in September to Stillwater and Ft. Ticonderoga (and Lake George Village), I had not paid much attention to the history preceding the French and Indian War.  Now, I seem to be running into it everywhere.

The YA version of this book was actually a graphic novel.  But like the old Classics Illustrated comics, this graphic novel may lead readers to the original book.  For me, it was a good read while I was nursing my sprained ankle.


This was raw travel.   Van den Bogaert and his traveling companions would not have made it to Ft. Orange had it not been for the hospitality of the Maquasen and Sinnekens [a general word for Native Americans west of the Mohawk, but used here to describe the Oneida].   They traded tools and weapons for the Native hospitality. They slept in longhouses, tried a couple of times to heal sick Native Americans at their hosts' request, and unsuccessfully tried to purchase a "tame" bear as a traveling companion.  They feasted on bear, dried salmon, and hare cooked with chestnuts.

True adventure of a type that is hard to come by in the East today.  Thinking that Van den Bogaert wasn't much older than my son when he made this journey....this type of adventure is denied our young people.  I sometimes wonder if my son would have leapt at the chance to make this journey.  I suspect he would have.

Will I try to tackle the source document?  Not sure.  But I loved the graphic novel.  Maybe for my retirement....

Thank you, George O'Connor, and the other people involved in adapting this journal to the graphic novel format.

Things I've Learned About Daytime TV

The good news for me is, I don't have to use the crutches anymore if my ankle will support the weight.  But I'm still spending a lot of the day with my leg up.  Thank heavens for laptops.

Now I have to try to figure out how to exercise until I can get back to my 4 mile walks (have a feeling that will be a while). But in the meantime I have been doing one thing I rarely do, which is watch daytime TV.

I won't miss it any.  A sampling:

Dr. Phil:  young adult twins addicted to heroin, trying to raise their three children.  The family that takes drugs together.....  The brother, the father...well, it gave a new definition to "dysfunctional".    Dr. Phil sent them, and their father, off to separate drug rehab programs.

Jerry Springer:  several women seriously trying to hurt each other, never figured out the story line. 

Rachael Ray:  Yum-O.

The Price is Right:  Drew Carey looks great with all the weight he's lost!

Oprah:  Wasn't interesting.  Too bad, may be the last time I get to see her show.

Now I know why I never got addicted to daytime TV during my vacation time.

Voting on Crutches and on Facebook

I had a chance today to test out handicapped voting.  Unintentionally.

On the way to work this morning, I managed to sprain my ankle.  At this hour of blogging my ankle is taped up and I am icing it.  I'm using a clamshell support and walking with crutches. The last time I had to walk with crutches, I was 10 years old.  Lucky me.  At least I can put some weight on the foot.  Thank heavens, I can't complain.

So getting to the polling place, usually a pleasant walk from my house, suddenly turned into a logistical planning session.

Now, in saying this, I am well aware there are people who do this kind of thing each and every day, some of them doing it every day of my lives.  So I don't want to make a big deal out of this (as in "pity me!"-DON'T) but I wanted to tell you about my experience.   It's sobering in a way, because the tiny bit of trouble I went to due to my sprain is nothing compared to what people in some countries have to go through, including putting their lives at risk.



Spouse drove me, crutches in the back seat.

First obstacle:  the curb.  I haven't quite gotten the hang of going up stairs with my crutches, so I had to remember the mantra:  Good leg up, bad leg down.  In other words you lead with the good leg going up, and  the bad leg going down.  I got up the curb and slowly made my way to the front door.  So far, so good, except that my formerly fast walk has turned into a slow, deliberate crawl.

Spouse was good enough to hold the door.  At least in this point of my life I'm not as self conscious so I didn't expect, or care, if people stared at me.

I was fortunate that I only had to wait a couple of minutes.  I balanced on the crutches to sign the book you have to sign in New York State before you are allowed to vote.

Until last year, we had lever voting machines.  Now, we've joined the electronic age, but with paper ballots.  So I somehow, while grasping my crutches, transported a long paper ballot, the special marking pen, and the privacy screen, to the corral where you do your marking.

The poll worker asked "would it be easier for you to sit?"  I told him, yes.

So I got to see how the "handicapped" corral function worked.  A part of the corral swings up and locks, and you can push a wheelchair under the table part.  The worker then got a chair for me.  I sat, marked my ballot, inserted it into the privacy sleeve, then got up, then carried (grasping my crutches at the same time) the ballot and the pen to the scanning machine.  Thankfully, the scanning worked the first time. Then, reversing the process, spouse held the door, I went out to the parking lot, hurt my foot stepping off the curb because I haven't mastered "down" yet, hobbled into the car, and from there, home.

The neat part was yet to come.

When I signed onto Facebook there was a large "I voted" button Facebook asked members to click if they had voted.  I did so and I got to see which of my Facebook friends had already voted.  Some of them live in early voting states and at least one had voted early.   If I could have seen into the future, and if NY permitted, I would have voted early too.  But it was a good effort.  And I am glad to report that I had a good number of voting friends.

And, I hope you voted too.

The Bar Bakery

Every October spouse and I like to go down to Bradford County, PA to stock up on the food of that area.  This is a "mixed" population, somewhat rural/small town, with a sprinkling of Amish. In other words, a rural gem.  I don't want to come off sounding like a "foodie" so I'll just say I like the kind of food that Bradford County produces.  I won't call it "artisan".  It was artisan before that word became so overused.

I believe I blogged about this area last year, but there have been some changes.

We normally have three stops, one of them being a local bakery in the small town of Stevensville.  This bakery started out several years ago initially run by an Eastern European couple, and featured bread with the most wonderful crust imaginable.   There were all kinds of cookies.  There were chickens in the yard by the bakery.  They sold homemade pirogies. 

Then one year we showed up and they were gone.  The helpful people at Dotti Lou meats (another stop) told us they had sold their recipes to a gentleman and we could go just a few feet down the road and find the new bakery.  It was a place called the Apple Tree bakery.  Sure enough, there the bread was.  The chickens and pirogies were gone but well....change happens.  We were thrilled to have the bread.  The cookies were there but...I can only say this kindly, they were not good.

Well, this time, the Apple Tree bakery had morphed into a....bar.  A bar with a bakery.  The bar had no customers but after some confusion we did see where there was some bread for sale.  The cookies were gone.  I don't know about how long the bread is going to last though.  There were several signs, one talking about the fact that he was ceasing daily baking of bread due to slow weekday sales.  There were also several signs asking patrons to keep down the cursing and to be considerate of the Apple Tree's neighbors.  I wonder what type of clientele the bakery bar is attracting but he is trying to be a good neighbor.

We've eaten off two of the breads we bought so far and both were excellent.  But.....

I have a bad feeling this is the last we've seen of the Apple Tree bread.   Oh please tell me that I am wrong.

Virtual Halloween

I had promised you another post about FarmVille, and my analysis (such as it is) about why it is so wildly popular, especially among...well, women over 40.  Which I am.

I'm sorry, but I've been too busy decorating and playing over at FarmVille.

I've been playing a bit over a year now, so this is my second Halloween.  This one has been so much fun.  Besides building my Haunted House (you have to ask your FarmVille neighbors, fellow Facebook friends who play FarmVille, for building materials) and harvesting candy from it, I've been getting candy from other neighbors and filling up my pumpkin.  The Haunted House is really cool looking, with bats flying around it and ghosts oozing out of the building.

Each night when I visit neighbors to help with their farms I get a chance to put spider webs on five of their fences or trees. (Virtual teepeeing, sort of.)  I've also decorated my farm with a tombstone and pumpkin fences, and have purchased a Halloween costume for my avatar.  (Right now I'm dressed as a pirate but am thinking strongly of buying the dinosaur costume.)  Trust me, this is "nothing" compared to what some people do. (Oh yes, I grow virtual pumpkins now and then.)

I had some maple trees (yellow and red) from last year, and put them around my Haunted House, along with some mounds of leaves.

I've been trying to grow black roses.  You can only get 20 seeds (for 20 plots) at a time, and if you don't want to pay for them, you have to get from your friends.  It's challenging, but I hope to be able to master them.

Finally, I've been growing candy corn:  and if you never knew candy corn was a crop, well, it is on FarmVille.

The decorating aspect is important to a lot of FarmVille players.  Many of them spend real live cash on virtual decorations-I don't, personally.  The interacting with neighbors is the real attraction.  Most of my FarmVille neighbors are people I know, although one (living out in Arizona) I've only seen 3 or 4 times in my life.  She ended up "introducing" me to her best friend and now her friend is a valued FarmVille neighbor, too.

After Halloween is over, the Thanksgiving season will begin on FarmVille.  I have some turkeys from last year and rumor is FarmVille will be giving farmers turkey coops to build with a "little help from their friends."

So, about that analysis?  I'll get around to it....

Cataracts, Heart Attacks, and Scoliosis

I didn't want to turn my recent ramblings on the Ithaca Art Trail to turn into one of those "I did this I did that" things - zzzzz.  So instead, I will talk about an artist whose studio we visited on the Trail this year.

Her name is Felicia Poes and she runs a small mosaics studio in Interlaken, NY called We Be Tilin'. shared her love of mosaics with my spouse and I.  Outside her studio (which is now closed for the winter), were various clay pots with mosaics applied.  It was just the beginning of a marvelous collection.

We spent quite a while enjoying, in particular, her collection of mosaic guitars.  The guitars are works of art-not playable art but - the link above has a link to pictures of some of these guitars - and these pictures on her website don't even begin to do her justice.

My spouse, who majored in geology, enjoyed her collection of various stones, which she incorporates into her art.  Mosaics isn't just shattered glass and pots glued onto stuff.  It is so much more, especially for Felicia Poes.

Which is where the cataracts, heart attacks and scoliosis come in.

One of her mosaics incorporated a bicycle chain in a pattern that to me (I have scoliosis) resembles...well, scoliosis.  I forget what the work of art was called, but I joked with the artist that if she ever needed to see a chiropractor, perhaps she could barter the picture for chiropractor services.  This, though was the true beauty of her mosaics....the element of recycled material.  Other of her art pieces....well, they involved heart attacks and cataracts.  You will just have to use your imagination.

If you are interested in video of some of the various studios:  click here.

Red is the Color of The Season....So why not a festival?

Earlier this year I blogged about the Macon Cherry Blossom festival and how great it would be for the Binghamton area to have some kind of local spring blooming festival.  Well, maybe not.  My letter to the editor of the paper never got published and I've since read about the money Macon actually loses on the cherry blossom festival, when all is said and done. 

So....today spouse and I got to thinking about a fall foliage festival.  Not Vermont-style, where people crowd the roads to rubberneck.  Instead, something more in-town urban.  This could be combined with other fall festival staples to make something very nice.

Every year spouse and I rate which fall color has given the best show. This is so dependent on the weather but it seems every year one particular color shows out more than normal.  Some years it is yellow, some years orange, some years-red.

This year red wins.  Such brilliant Japanese maples and "burning bushes" caught our eyes walking on the West Side of Binghamton this evening, I wished for about the 280,000th time that I had a cell phone camera.

Meantime, spouse had a thought.....what if the streets of downtown Binghamton were lined with shrubs like Euonymus alatus?  Or other foliage trees?  (Sadly, probably now Japanese Maples-they can be as expensive as they are beautiful).   Timing would be uncertain but it already is for the DC and Macon Cherry Blossoms.   And, knock on wood, it hasn't snowed here in October in a while-in fact there hasn't been a killing frost yet in a lot of places in Binghamton.


Downtown Binghamton already has July Fest so an October Fest of Fall Foliage wouldn't be out of the question.  Combine it with some music (music, new this year to July Fest vastly increased attendance for July Fest over past years) and it would be another way to attract people back to downtown. And even without a festival, if we plant beautiful trees...well downtown ends up with beautiful trees - which we hope the vandals won't take to decorate their dor....I mean, apartments, with.

So how about it folks?  If you don't want a spring blossom festival, how about a fall foliage festival?  Or at least mass plantings of trees?

News Flash! Wal-Mart Saves Johnson City, New York!

Back in July, I talked about the grand opening of a Wal-Mart store on what had been the site of a long abandoned Endicott-Johnson factory.  Some people were saying that Wal-Mart might be the salvation of downtown Johnson City.  Unlike other communities who protested Wal-Mart coming to town, many people seemed optimistic about its coming.


It now appears these people were right about the revitalization of downtown Johnson City.  Let's all cross fingers because this village needs all the revitalization it can get.

Yes, we are talking about the same village that nearly dissolved itself last year (and this still may happen.)

Downtown Johnson City (Johnson City, fyi, is a small village of about 13,000. that saw its glory days end years ago)

There is definitely activity in those storefronts.  Some of the businesses have relocated from Binghamton or other areas.  One is a business that was on Main Street for years, moved to a side street, and is now returning to Main Street.  At least one, though, is a reflection of the changing nature of our population - a Middle Eastern restaurant.

No doubt, Johnson City still has problems.  Despite recent arrests, gangs are a constant presence.  However, this is the first activity other than people leaving in -well, years.

So why did Wal-Mart help?  No surprise there.  People are coming there to shop, and coming from certain directions they have to drive through downtown Johnson City.  It's as simple as that.  Businesses are hoping to pick up on this.

Look what Wal-Mart did for the Vestal Parkway in the nearby Town of Vestal.

It could happen to Johnson City.

How ironic that Wal-Mart, once accused of destroying downtowns, could possibly now revitalize them.  Are we the only community in this country to experience that?  (full disclosure, I do not live in the Village of Johnson City, but I have family members with roots in the Village.)

Keep fingers crossed.

Alice Cooper on the Golf Course and other Snipits of Triple Cities Life

Here, in no particular order, are some word snapshots of life here in the Southern Tier of Upstate NY during October, 2010.  I'd love to know how October was for those in other parts of the country.

The Circus Comes to Town:  Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus comes to town and we working in downtown Binghamton are treated to the circus unloading elephants and lions.


Alice Cooper Plays Golf:  seen on the golf course at En Joie, rocker Vincent Furnier, aka Alice Cooper, plays with the mother of someone involved with the Endicott Performing Arts Center (EPAC).  He ends up inviting two people involved with EPAC to meet with him backstage at his concert with Rob Zombie.  Wish I had some photos of that!

The Battle of the Marching Bands, (high schools, that is) a Binghamton Columbus Day tradition:  I took lunch early and enjoyed several of the bands, including Johnson City, Vestal, and Whitney Point, marching down Main Street.  After the parade, everyone mingles on Water Street for food and entertainment. (but not me, back to work I had to go....)

The Ithaca Art Trail: at a later date, I will post on that.  Yes, I know it isn't the Triple Cities, and maybe one of these days we will get our own Art Trail.   I didn't bring my camera this time like I did last year, so I'll have no photos this time.  Actually wish I had bought them, especially when I talk about the mosaic guitars.

Good news for Johnson City:  this one also deserves its own blog post.  Have my work cut out.


and, last but not least:

First Friday, featuring a new exhibit at our local museum on Trees....with one special tree, which I will try to write about.

Fall continues....and only a week to Halloween.  And only a week to November.

Muslims Wearing Things

Sometimes someone starts the right blog at the right time.

It was on BoingBoing, in case you are wondering how I discovered it.

My regular readers know I don't get excited about blogs I stumble upon too often.  This is an exception.

After the controversies of this week over the firing of one J. Williams (which I do have an opinion on, but the purpose of this blog is not to get political) this new blog answers the timely question:  exactly what is Muslim garb?  How can we easily tell a Muslim from a non-Muslim through their clothes?

So this new Muslins Wearing Things blog seeks to inform the public as to official and unofficial Muslim garb.  And make a few good points along the way.

I will be interested in seeing where this goes.  Will anyone learn what this blog is trying to educate us to?  Or will it drown in a sea of hatred?  Especially as the writer has a "ask me anything" link: wonder how long that will last.  Will he or she post the questions, with answers?  I can't wait to see.

I hope this blog lasts for a while because it is awesome.  But two comments....
1.would be nice to see more picture of females - because so much of the ignorant beliefs seem to center around women...
2.  How do we get the ignorant to read that blog in the first place?

Winter Closes In

Wet snow is in the forecast tonight.
It's 6:10 pm and it's getting dark.

Winter is closing in.

It isn't here yet. We've had one light frost at our house (although, where my son lives at a higher elevation, he's had several.)  The trees are turning in dribs and drabs.  I think the dry summer had something to do with it.  In between each burst of color, strong winds have been coming, and tearing off the leaves before their time.  In other words, we haven't had a good color season.

Pumpkins are plentiful.  The apple harvest is proceeding nicely.  Hot cider beckons.  Halloween is almost here.

But still.....

The strong winds have a chill.  The clouds are getting that "winter" look.  Soon enough, that wet snow will be sticking, making us slide and shiver.  (Kids have another view, but that's besides the point.)

We can't hold it back.  Winter is closing in.

RIP Panchos Pit

Just a small note...one of the long time restaurants in Johnson City, Panchos Pit, has closed.  Their contents were auctioned off yesterday.

Spouse and I have never eaten there.  But a relative ate there a lot over the years, both when he lived in Johnson City, and after.  Apparently there had been several owners and the most recent one wanted to retire - and couldn't find a buyer.  From what I've heard, it was no great loss - what had been an "institution" in Johnson City had become a restaurant featuring bad service and not so good food.  When my relative ate there, they weren't any gourmet eatery, but featured good, cheap food.

This is the second business this strip mall on Riverside Drive lost in recent months.  A long time local butcher business, Ralph's Meats, closed earlier this year.

It's a sad day when a small village loses long time businesses.

And meanwhile, the NYPENN Trade Center, which I've blogged about before, continues to teeter on the edge of closing forever.

The Blue Highways of Putnam County (Or, Historic Adventures with Google Maps)

I've been waffling between using Mapquest and Google Maps for my directions.  One thing I can say about our latest episode with Google Maps, it sure led us on a wild adventure.

For the high school reunion I blogged about a few days ago, we needed to get to a country club in Garrison, NY, on Route 9.  Rt 9 in NY is a very heavily traveled highway paralleling the Hudson River. The way you would normally get to Rt 9 from where we were starting our trip involves U.S. Highway 6, another very heavily traveled highway.

The reunion started at 5pm so we felt it was a good idea to find an alternate route.

We turned to Google Maps and it gave us 3 routes.  Two routes involved U.S. 6.   One was about 17 miles and one about 15 miles.   The third - well, on the map it actually looked like a straight line from "here" to "there" whereas the U.S. 6 options were not straight lines-and my dear spouse, when driving, loves straight lines.   And it was only about 12 miles.   Even if it involved getting on and off 9 different roads, the route sounded like just "the ticket".  Drive 2 miles on this road, .4 miles on that road, 1.6 miles on that road.....

A couple of the road names sounded familiar, too, one having an exit off the Taconic Parkway.

So the "alternate route" it was.

We started out.  The first road dear spouse was familiar with.  The second road was the road that you could get onto the Taconic on. Both were "regular", two lane roads.  Then things started to get interesting.

Keep in mind, during this drive, it was threatening to rain heavily and the wind was rather strong.

The third road was a bit narrow.  The fourth road (or maybe it was the 5th, I've lost count by now), was so steep our car (which is far from underpowered) started to labor.  The 6th road was barely the width of a driveway and we crawled around the very steep curves (curves we hadn't seen since our last trip to Colorado, so yes we know what steep curves are) at 15 mph.  The 7th road, well, I barely remember it.  I was too worried about getting lost in what literally had become the middle of nowhere. (and that's no mean trick, finding the middle of nowhere, when you are only about 45 miles from NYC.)

The 8th road?  It was unpaved.

But it was quite historic.  I would have even taken a picture if I was inclined to get out of the car at that point.

It is called the Old Albany Post Road.  And, thanks to Google Maps not warning us of the epic we were about to embark on, we stumbled upon a historic jem of a road, in fact, one of the oldest unpaved roads in the country still in use.

I'm glad I didn't know about the 4 foot wide craters that had decorated some of this road after a nor'easter in 2007, because a nor'easter was threatening as we made this drive.

The Wikipedia article I've linked to has me wanting to revisit this road.  Lots of historic stuff, which I could only begin to guess at during our little adventure.  Next time we come armed with knowledge, and we will make this drive in nicer weather.

The Loneliest Gas Station in the Northeast

Along I-84 West, approaching the last NY exit, there is a special intersection the average motorist does not know about.

The exit is for Port Jervis, NY.  Port Jervis is a small city in New York with a fascinating history.  To the traveler there is another significance.  Cheap gas....but not in Port Jervis.

NJ, NY and PA come together at Port Jervis.  The PA community is across the Delaware River and is called Matamoras. It is the easternmost spot in Pennsylvania. For NJ, the township of Montague (the northernmost spot in New Jersey) highlights one of the most bizzare aspects of differences in state law.

Getting off of I-84 you are still in NY.  Right off the interstate is a gas station.  Wise travelers ignore that station, knowing that a few hundred yards down the road is the New Jersey border.  Right past the NJ border cluster several gas stations.  Yesterday, when we stopped for gas, these stations were 30 cents a gallon less than the Port Jervis station....and featured the famous NJ full service gas pumping.

Yes....much cheaper gas....and you don't even have to pump it yourself.

NJ is one of two states that prohibit self service gas pumping (the other is Oregon).  The NJ law dates from 1949.  There have been several attempts (unsuccessful, obviously) to repeal this law.  As a result, the lucky teenagers of New Jersey can grow up without learning to pump their own gas.  Full service is the law.

It is so strange seeing this.  Each cluster of pumps has an attendant and they pump your gas and take your credit card, debit card or cash.  If you are lucky, they will even clean your windshield.

Just like in the old days.  You know, those old days that I grew up in.

Who would ever thought of how strange it felt?

As for the gas prices....we normally don't take this route for a trip we make several times a year but we may just rethink that.

Forever Young

The Dancing Queen.  No longer 17.

The administrator for a children's hospital on the West Coast.  The merger and acquisitions lawyer up from Washington DC.  The school psychologist practicing in Virginia.  The financial consultant.  The grandmother of three fresh from a trip to Hawaii.  The produce clerk.  The man taking constant phone calls because his father was in the hospital, a thousand miles away.

What did we all have in common?   6 hours of dancing, talking, sharing email addresses, and looking at old photos.

A 40th high school reunion.

Not mine, but my husband's.  One of his friends organized it.  Before last night I had only met one of these people, and to my amazement, I recognized him the minute I saw him.  My husband was already in college when I met him so this was a part of his life that I was never able to share.

Until now.

There was the woman who, surveying the room, said to me "This is surreal".  Yes it was and I bet everyone who goes to a reunion (especially the 30th, the 40th, and beyond) thinks the same thing.  When you age, the people you knew in your childhood (if you don't see them as adults) are frozen in time.  The people you went to high school with are, in your mind, forever 17 and 18.  Even if they are really 58 or 60.

Until you go to the reunion, that is, and this is the surreal part.  You walk into the room and see a bunch of middle aged people just like you.  Some look like their yearbook photos.  Many do not. Many of us grey, all of us wrinkled, some of us in shape, others not so much.  Some of us have achieved great things.  Some have lived the lives they had planned to live but for many of us our lives have taken many unexpected directions.  Some good, some not.

We are older, wiser.  We accept the class clown, we reminise about old antics,  we laugh with and hug the classmate who had too much to drink and is now trying to cry on everyone's shoulder.  We know this moment isn't going to be forever.  We know when we have the next reunion we will be near 70.  Maybe we should have these more often.

Will we do that?

Or will we be reabsorbed into our daily lives?  Only time will tell.

But for that one night we were....forever young.

The Pink Cartoons that Made Me See Red

With deep apologies to one of my dear regular readers, I have to speak out.

Since when is breast cancer more important than other cancers?  It is, if you have it.  But there are a lot of women suffering and dying right now, from other cancers that barely see the light of day.  The light of funding, that is.  Funding for their cure

Why does breast cancer rate a special fight, while other feminine cancers, such as uterine or ovarian, don't rate as high?  Do they not deserve our attention?  And our funds to "find a cure"?  Or at least a good test, which ovarian cancer needs desperately?

I am sorry, Pink Cartoonists, but I feel you have disrespected my Aunt Trudy, who died from pancreatic cancer.  You disrespected my Aunt Shirley, who died from stomach cancer.  You disrespected my late co worker Madeline, who died from melanoma.  You disrespected my late co worker Patricia who died from lung cancer.

You disrespect a co-worker for many years, whose grandmother and mother both died from colon cancer.  You disrespect the fear she faces every day that she will be next.

You disrespect a former neighbor who lived next door to me. Two years ago she was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer (she was way too young for a routine colonoscopy, in case you are wondering.)  You disrespect my late neighbor, a respected teacher in the Johnson City middle school, who succumbed to ovarian cancer and left her husband, also a teacher, to raise their two children.

Their cancer struggles deserve respect. Their cancers deserve walks and a special color and products whose sales help to fund the fight for "the cure".

All cancers deserve a cure.  Not just breast cancer.  I am sorry, I know women fighting breast cancer now and I do not disrespect what they are going through.  What I fight against is this "women united against breast cancer" -while people seem to turn a funding blind eye to those women who were unfortunate enough to come down with a different type.

Don't they deserve a fight for the cure?  A day of cartoon colors in their honor?

I think of the other friends and females relatives in my life.  The survivors (two survivors of thyroid cancer, a survivor of ovarian cancer and a number of breast cancer survivors) and those who did not survive.

Their struggle was heroic, each and every one.  The courage my friend Pat, who knew from the day she was diagnosed that she would not survive and prepared her family for that day without flinching, moved me in particular.  I remember the last time I visited her, when she was in a coma, mere days from death.  She lay there in her living room, with her favorite country music playing.  "She won't respond", her husband said, "but she hears everything you say."  It was so hard to say goodbye.  The words stuck in my throat.  I could swear she weakly squeezed my hand.

My co-worker Madeline struggled for nearly four years against melanoma.

My mother in law, who had two breast cancer diagnoses in one year, with a 10 year old daughter at home, faced her own struggle.

Don't women deserve a race to the "cure" against CANCER, no matter what type?

Don't all cancer fighters and survivors deserve this?

The Irony of the Most Hopeless Political Jingle in History

Spouse and I were watching a program talking about political ads in this year's campaign.  Some of them were pretty awful-there always are some that just stick in your mind in the wrong way.

Some will stick in people's minds forever, and not in the way their creators meant.  The most famous of those was the Lyndon Johnson "daisy girl" ad of 1964 (I fear people my son's age-young adult-will never feel the full impact of that ad) but there were many local ads.

Seeing this program both spouse and I burst into song, a song almost 30 years old, from our days in Arkansas.

"John Paul Hammerschmidt...", the ditty went, "doesn't deserve to be reelected.  John Paul Hammerschmidt, he doesn't work for you."  I think this was the chorus and here was more at the beginning, but I can't quite remember.

Pretty catchy...although the words on a blog page don't do much.  I tried to find the ad on You Tube: no luck.  You'll just have to take my word for it:  this was so annoying, we remember it 30 years later.

It didn't work.   It didn't have a chance. John Paul Hammerschmidt did deserve to be reelected, or at least, his constituents felt that way.

Congressman John Paul Hammerschmidt was elected 13 times.

One of these times (not the election of the jingle) was a victory won against a young University of Arkansas law professor by the name of William Jefferson Clinton.  (check out this tribute to Hammerschmidt for a picture of the young Clinton.)

We all know what happened to Clinton.  Meanwhile, Hammerschmidt is far from a household word, except in certain parts of Arkansas.  Long retired from Congress, he still comes to work every day at age 84, we are told.

So what about the man who wrote the jingle?  Amazingly, I was able to find information about him online.  His name was Jerry Russell, who died in 2003.  Although the tribute I found said his jingles worked about 70 percent of the time, his contribution to history was the preservation of Civil War battlefields-a pursuit which he devoted many years to.

Now, every time I visit a Civil War battlefield (and I've been to a number of them- including one in Arkansas) - I am going to be thinking of John Paul Hammerschmidt.

Politicians, choose your jingles well.

Pink October

Today was the annual breast cancer walk in Binghamton.  It had what I would consider a very good turnout.  Crowds of women and men dressed in pink, or in white shirts with the breast cancer symbol, or sporting pink boas, bubbled over from Rec Park through the streets of the West Side of Binghamton.  As I saw the flood of humanity this beautiful fall day (crisp and clear, beautiful blue skies) pour into the streets of Binghamton, conflicting emotions rose in me-like they always do when I think of breast cancer.

Why?

There are several reasons, and I think of them whenever I see that flood of pink, be it on the streets or in supermarkets, where sponsors use this powerful pink to sell soup, pretzels and many other items.  To be honest, I wince when I see the pink tsunami, and the pink merchandising.

Don't get me wrong.  I was quite alive and well in the "bad days" of breast cancer, being a witness to some of what my mother in law went through battling her two distinct breast cancers during the 1970's (more on that a little later).  So many people alive today do not know the horrors of breast cancer back then - how women were given no support, how women would be put under while a "frozen section" was run on their tumor...and women would not know, when they woke up, if they would have their entire body or not. If they didn't, well - cancer in those days was something you fought privately, with little or no support.

My mother in law, to be blunt about it, was butchered by a well meaning surgeon and has the scar to prove how men treated the removal of a breast in the bad old days.

And, in the course of full disclosure:  I have participated the last four years in Relay for Life (the "overall" cancer fundraiser of the Ameican Cancer Society) and I have never been diagnosed with cancer.  I'm just someone who has witnessed the cancer struggles of many people I know and-know what?  Some lived and some died.  So I am not an expert.  Just a lucky bystander who has seen some things second hand through the sufferings of those I like and love.

So what is my issue?

Several issues.

1.  I think the "pink" campaign trivializes breast cancer.  How many of you are aware, for example, that there is no such monolith as "breast cancer" but instead a whole spectrum of cancers affecting the breast?  My mother in law had two different types.  One was a tumor.  The other manifested itself as a discharge.  Her doctor "poo pooed" it but finally an instinct told my mother in law that she had a problem and had to seek help elsewhere.  Well, even after the cancer diagnosis, it was diagnosed incorrectly and fortunately Memorial Sloane Kettering made the correct diagnosis (so correct treatment could be given).  Know what, women?  This stuff still happens today!  There is nothing cute or pink about this killer.

2.  Not everyone survives.  And I truly think there is a tendency today to "blame the victim":  those with Stage IV, well, they didn't eat the right foods, or they didn't exercise enough, or they didn't do their self exam well enough, or they didn't get enough mammograms or...they didn't fight hard enough.  ???????  Some of this comes down to the old American attitude...we don't want to face death.  And that isolates the woman fighting cancer even more.  I saw this happen to a relative I loved very much and I was a little too inexperienced back then to understand.  Know what?   I know I still don't understand...and a part of me hopes I never have to understand.

Some say there are no cancer survivors....only cancer fighters.

3.  Men can get breast cancer too!  I worry about my dear husband - with his family history-mother had it twice, and four of her sisters had breast cancer also-is he at risk? .  So, women...did you know that men have breast tissue?  I read a statistic online saying that one out of every 100 breast cancers is diagnosed in a man.  And every one of those men is drowning in the pink tsumani of misunderstanding.

Don't believe me?  Well, go to the Web MD site and search up this "Man's Guide to Breast Cancer".  The same site that gave me some of my statistics considers a man's guide to breast cancer as being a guide to supporting his diagnosed wife.  So the man with breast cancer:  Is he a joke?   An asterisk?

No, he's real, and you may know him.

4.  I truly feel the pink tsunami funnels money from other cancers.  Maybe breast cancer gets the publicity because there is a test for it or because of the past history I touched on above.  Still....there are no reliable tests for a lot of other cancers.  Let's see, how about another dread women's cancer (and this is one only women get):  ovarian cancer?  Well women die every day from ovarian cancer - my next door neighbor did-and nothing cute about ovarian cancer either.    My neighbor left a 12 year daughter and a 6 year old son.  Where are all the ovarian cancer soups and cosmetics? 

Or let's think about pancreatic cancer.  This is my "sword" dangling over my head:  I've lost an aunt, an uncle and a great uncle to this killer that rarely gives a sign until it is too late-way too late. Or stomach cancer?  I lost an aunt to that and a co-worker just lost someone he knew to that.  The list can go on and on for a long time.

I've rambled on enough, but I want to make one more plea. 

Stop the pink.  We need to fight cancer.
Cancer.  Not one type of cancer.  All cancer.  Now.

Life as a Tapestry

Someone gave me a quote from a person by the name of Robin Ryan:

"If you want your life to be a magnificent story, realize you are the author.  Each day you have the opportunity to write a new page."

I've also read comparisons of life to a tapestry, where you are a weaver.

Either way....

I have enough of life now where I can feel (some days) an attempt to stay in a comfort zone, a rut, if you will.  That is why I blog, and sometimes force myself to go to places to learn, to experience.  But other days, the joy of discovery wakes me up and I see a blog post in every experience.

I've been trying to avoid the "I did this, I did that, nice thing coming up in Ithaca" type of entries recently.  So if I don't seem to be posting as much as I have sometimes in the past, forgive me. 

I want to keep writing my book.

And I promise to put in some of the posts I've promised to make recently.....in the near future.  How's that?

Rainy Days and Fridays

As dawn will come soon, I'll soon know what all the rain I heard coming down overnight has done.  Already I know from the internet that there is local flooding.

As of late afternoon, at our house, I know over 6 inches had come down.  We don't have a rain gauge anymore.  My son's mobile home has some water coming in.

When the sun rises, the full extent of damage will be visible.

NOW, rain, rain, will you go away?  But do come back one of these days.  Just not right away.

Rain Rain Go Away!

The northeast is about to get deluged in rain.  Seeing the red sky this morning (beautiful sunrise) made me wonder what was up.  You know the saying the sailors had....

Of course anyone living in Binghamton thinks back to the two floods of 2006.  I know several people who either lost houses, or property, or both. 
I can't imagine what they are thinking right now.

It will be an interesting (to say the least) next 24 hours.  Let's hope I can report on it tomorrow.

Fall.....Noooooooooo

The sun did the equinox thing.  I saw the superharvest moon glowing in the sky.  I went to sleep.  When I woke up the trees had started to turn, seemingly overnight.

"Sob", I cried, "summer is over. "


As I posted last year, I must be dragged kicking and screaming into fall.  Even when we have a summer when you KNOW we had a summer (hot, dry, hot....) I still don't want to let go.  My fingernails dig into the ripening pumpkins, the apple trees bowed under weight of a bumper crop.  They cling to the corn stalks of the last corn of the season (spouse will be cooking some soon.)  "Noooooooooo....." I scream, as the calendar turns.

Then, there it is.  The sourwood tree by our house announces fall, red coloring its leaves.  I look at both the valley and the hilltop, with red and yellow appearing out of nowhere.  The goldenrod, so distinctive two weeks ago, sheds its yellow.  The mums, open in red, orange and yellow, look like they belong.  Pumpkins appear on doorsteps.  The air is clear and crisp.

"It's almost time", the northern breeze whistles at me.  "It's almost time for harvest festivals.  You know you want go to the farmers market and see the apples glistening in their wooden baskets, don't tell me you don't.  It's time for cauliflower, which you love to eat in the "fake mashed potatoes" of the South Beach diet book. "  I sigh and admit the breeze is right.

"Soon", the breeze continues, "you'll be going to Ithaca for the fall book sale.  You'll look at the artists trail brochures, deciding which artists studios to visit this year.  It's fall.  Don't fight it any more.  Join in the celebration of fall.  Although the warm sun that warmed your arthritic knee will soon be a distant memory, you know why you live in upstate NY.  You want those four seasons.  Well, maybe not the winter so much.  But to have fall, you must have winter.  That's the law of nature."

So I gathered my canvas bags and my spouse and went to the farmers market.  I bought honeycrisp apples, several types of potatoes, a couple of ears of late white corn, and a big bag of organic salad greens picked fresh this morning.  And then I walked on the Vestal Rail Trail for 4 miles and went to an art festival in Binghamton.  Then I sat in the back yard and read, until I started to feel cold.

Tomorrow I'll think about putting up fall decorations.  Maybe I will.  Maybe I won't.

What do Rachael Ray and I have in Common?

We are both on line?  We are both women?  She likes to cook and I like to eat?

All of the above and one other:  We both love Oscar's Smokehouse in Warrensburg, NY.   So how did I get involved in this icon of the Adironacks?

I was researching bed and breakfasts in the Adironacks, and noticed where one was bragging of serving breakfasts made with "Oscar's Smokehouse Meats"

A local smokehouse....that's like dangling Godiva in front of a chocoholic.  Incidentally, I am a chocoholic too, in case you need hints for a holiday present.

I immediately planned my trip.

We ended up going there twice, and I didn't even know about the Rachael Ray connection.  Or about the fire last year that could have put them out of business but made them rebuild bigger and better.  All I know is...I walked in and I was in smokehouse heaven.  Smoked cheese.  Smoked cheese dips. Sausages. Smoked Turkey.  Smoked Chicken.  Chocolate covered bacon (yes, really).   Local bread and chocolate.   Landjaeger.  Elk sausage.  Duck sausage.  We had smoked turkey deli for lunch yesterday and smoked turkey breast with veggies for dinner.  I snacked on their cheese curd in the car.  Not only good local food, but reasonable prices too.  Definitely not a tourist trap.  I almost could have financed the trip on their food if I had prepared my budget (and my freezer) in advance.

We did treat my mother in law, brother in law and sister in law to lunch from their deli.  Yum-O...no, wait, Rachael has that one taken already.  Oops, sorry.

And if you do visit Oscar's here's ome of Rachael's recipes to get you started.  Too bad I didn't know about them either, because now I can't make them without going back.  Darn.
Bowties with Smoked Almond Sauce, Bacon, Lettuce and Tomatoes

Oh P.S. Bobby Flay eats their bacon.  Maybe next time I'll buy some.

9/11 in Stillwater, NY

Stillwater, NY doesn't get any respect.

The battle of Saratoga, which many historians believe was the turning point of of the Revolutionary War, was fought close to the village of Stillwater, NY, which back "when" was called.....Saratoga.  Not to be confused with the present day Saratoga, this small village is steeped in history and I highly recommend a visit.  From the French and Indian War, through the Revolutionary War, to.....9/11?

I have to tell one more 9/11 story.  Due to rain making us change our plans, we ended up in Stillwater, NY, visiting a structure called the Blockhouse.  We had a wonderful conversation with two women staffing the Blockhouse, one of them being the town historian of Stillwater.  The other explained what a Blockhouse was, the historical origins of all the wood used in the structure, and showed us exhibits: on one wall, the French and Indian War, on another war the Revolution, on the third wall the Civil War.  But what caught my eye was a large American flag.  On the stripes portion, many names were printed.

It was a flag displaying the name of everyone who died on 9/11.  Two names were highlighted with a tiny frame.  I asked, were these people local?

Yes.  One of them was a woman the staffer grew up with.  She briefly shared her "9/11" story and told me about the 9/11 commemoration the village had just celebrated., I sometimes wonder that people from all over the country (and, as we know, the world) died on that day. This special village indeed had absorbed the lessons of 9/11/01.

I will have some photos on my computer the next time I post, and will write more about the Saratoga area soon.

Damn Good Jerky-Damn Poor Wifi

Just back from a few days in Lake George, which is about a 3 hour drive from Binghamton in the northern part of NY State.  I have so much to blog about - I wish it was "on the spot" but the wi fi at my motel (otherwise very nice and a great location) was-like Lake George in the off season-mellow and slow.  Especially slow.

I realize a lot of people don't go to Lake George to use wi fi and blog so it was a small inconvenience (except when it interfered with my ability to play FarmVille).

We went for the scenery (not leaf turning time yet, but close) and the history.  We weren't disappointed.

We had two major surprises in our trip, both food related.

Going through the small hamlet of Stillwater on the way to the Saratoga battlefield (more on that battle in another post) we passed a small, unassuming storefront with a sign:  "Damn Good Jerky".  We decided not to stop, but went back a couple of days later.

In the store were a couple of young women, busting their "butts" packaging jerky.  Stacks of boxes filled one corner with addresses ranging from Connecticut to various towns in NY.   A small display asked customers to buy jerky for the troops, and contained various photos and letters from troops serving overseas.  (as I work with two women with brothers serving in Afghanistan, I'll definitely tell them about this store.). 

And then there was the wall of jerky.  One pound bags for $10 caught our eyes (note, they are a lot more expensive on the web site).  We ended up buying several bags as my son and my spouse both love hot and spicy jerky.  For me, a smaller bag of teriyaki.  I passed on the discounted jerky, which I assumed was older or somehow "off".

I am no jerky connoisseur, so I was surprised to find several websites rating jerky.  One gave it a rating of "good", rating it better for sucking than for chewing.  The other site had a more favorable rating.

Jerky was the last thing we would have thought of as "local food" but it was a surprising find.  Again, I don't know if it is a good value buying it mail order but the prices were certainly right in the tiny storefront.

This jerky company was started by someone who felt he could make the "better jerky".  From the busyness of the packing day we stumbled into, I think he succeeded.

Comments from a Survivor and a Tribute

A blog I followed asked readers to write about where they were on 9/11/01.  This particular blog writer is a college student which means she was probably the age of my son on that day.

One of the people who responded was a 9/11 survivor.  Her post is so understated, and so powerful, that I wanted to share it with my readers.

So many coincidences.

A cousin of my spouse worked on and off in the Trade Center but was not there that day.

A former co-worker, who worked 4 blocks from the Trade Center, had come in early for a meeting.  If he had come in his normal time, he would have been exiting his train station near the Trade Center at the moment the first plane hit.

The brother of someone else I know had worked in the Trade Center but had been recently transferred to another office and so was not there.

But others I am connected to through others-family, friends, co-workers....were there, and never returned home.

I can not name them all-I do not know all of their names. But here are some of them-a small roll of honor.



Brian Terrenzi (local)
Christian Regenhard
Joseph Holland
Ari Jacobs
Gopal Varadhan

Trinity Church, Bronx Science, and 9/11

9 long years.  September 11, 2010.  For some, not long enough.

On this grim date, there is so much I can blog about.   The hatred leading to threats of Koran burnings.  The "Ground Zero" mosque not far from where I had a summer job in my junior year of college.

I gave this a lot of thought- because this is not a blog of controversy I want to make Trinity Church  the subject of my 9/11 blog posting.

I remember a very special visit to Trinity Church and St. Paul's Chapel.  It was closed at the time, 11 months after 9/11.  It had been miraculously spared that horrible day when buildings tumbled a short distance away.  Outside there were all kinds of memorial artifacts.  Teddy Bears, T-Shirt, clothing impregnated with Ground Zero dust, all mingled together.  It was an unforgettable sight.  I have photos somewhere, but in a way I really don't want to post them.  However, Trinity Church has beaten me to the punch, with a wealth of 9/11 eyewitness material.

I can not begin to imagine what that day was like.  It took me 11 months, until August of 2002, until I could bring myself to travel to lower Manhattan.  I rode the R train through the still closed Cortlandt Street station where awoman I went to college with had to ride through daily.  I knew the area from working near City Hall some 28 years before, right when the World Trade Center was opening.  There was no way I could believe how the dust clouds and debris could have been cleared from the streets we walked.

But most of all...the reek.  It clung to all those teddy bears and T-Shirts piled against the church fence.  It was a reek you could not believe.  A reek that was 11 months old and still going strong.

What had it smelled like right after 9/11?

It was the smell of death.  A smell I could not imagine in large doses.  I know people who had to commute to work every day, going through the Cortlandt Street station on the subway, smelling that reek.

Sadly, NYC has not moved the way it should have to restore Ground Zero.  I've been back one other time since then.  I hope to go again before the 10th anniversary.

Trinity Church was spared for a reason - it was spared to bear the testimony of history.

But will we listen to its lessons?

The Clouds of Winter

We are in our third day of low hanging, cold clouds-the clouds of snow.  The clouds telling us that summer is over.  The clouds of cold breezes, of rapidly shrinking daylight plunging towards the winter sun, the clouds who tell us the best is over.

Normally that isn't our sky.  Normally in early and mid September we are blessed with clear blue skies.  That's why 9/11 happened on 9/11 and not, say, on 8/15.  The terrorists knew the weather and knew the skies would probably be clear all across the northeast U.S.  They were right. 

Those are my memories too, of a 9/11/01 lunchtime, going outside briefly at noon, with police swarming all over downtown  Binghamton (after all, we have a county courthouse, a Federal courthouse, and a State Office Building - and who know what would happen next?) and seeing that beautiful blue sky?  But my thoughts were 150 miles away in my native city, wondering how many people I knew or were connected to had died a couple of hours before.  I didn't stay to soak in that sun but went back to my office.

This year the clouds just hang, making the upcoming anniversary even more depressing.  I shiver, waiting the cold bite of fall.

Binghamton's Trinity Church

Some people who know me must be bemused by my love of a good artistic, historic church.  I am not a artist, I am not educated in art, and I do not find myself in churches too often. But when I do, there's a special reason.

There is a very special historic church in Lower Manhattan by the name of Trinity Church.  George Washington went to church at nearby St. Paul's Chapel.

That church was already old (the congregation having been founded in 1697) when Washington worshipped there.

There is a wonderful blog on Trinity Church's website that I hope one day I can just sit down with a glass of iced tea (or a cup of  hot chocolate, depending on when I get around of it) and read it, immersing myself in the sweetness of history.

As we get close to 9/11 I spend some time thinking of Trinity Church, which almost "bought it" that day.

When I think of Trinity Church, I also think of a church right here in Binghamton by the name of Christ Episcopal Church.

Its congregation is a little baby congregation in age next to Trinity Church, having been founded more recently. (1810 to be exact).  But in heart, I have to believe they have more in common than the man who designed both buildings.

This is a picture I took of the outside of the church back in July.

What I don't have a picture of is the view of the stained glass windows at sunset.  If the sun is at just the right angle, they light right up.

As we draw closer to 9/11 the thoughts of many of us turn spiritual.  So I can wonder why Trinity Church survived 9/11.  Was it just random?  Or was there something more involved?

Whatever the answer, we can be closer to Trinity Church here in Binghamton, every time we who spend time in downtown Binghamton pass Christ Episcopal.

One of the Little Rock Nine Dies-A Profile in Arkansas Courage

Having spent 4 years living in Arkansas (some of them in the years that Bill Clinton, the "education governor" was governor), the death of Jefferson Thomas from pancreatic cancer saddens me.

I grew up in NYC and my schools were always integrated - as was my neighborhood.  I can not even imagine growing up in segregation.

My father, during World War II, saw segregation first hand during his Army Air Force service in Biloxi, MS and Paragould, Arkansas.  It made a lifelong impression on me that he passed along to me.  I grew up during the civil rights movement and my Dad would tell me about the segregated swimming pools and drinking fountains, among other things he saw and experienced.

I can not imagine what these nine young people went to just for the privilege of obtaining a first class education.  I can not imagine trying to get an education in a school system which condemned a large part of a state to obtaining education in falling down schools with badly outdated, handed down textbooks from the "white" schools.  My educational life was beginning as these valient young men did what few of us would ever have to do-face hatred head-on.

The area of Arkansas I lived in (unlike Little Rock) did not have a large black population.  However, now, many Hispanics have moved into the area to work in their chicken industry (Tysons).  They may have been trapped in the same "person of color" system but thanks to the Little Rock Nine, they hopefully do not have a second class education in the Springdale schools.

We owe the Nine a debt of gratitude, no matter what race we are.  Those who stand up to hatred and not fold are true heroes and heroines.

Mathematics and Farming

I'm an addict.  I overplay FarmVille.

I admit it.

It's not my fault.  It's theirs.  The mathematicians and psychologists.

Conspiracy theory time?  Not quite.

Several years ago I read, in the NY Times Magazine, an article about slot machines.  At the time I found it fascinating because my job involved a non-mathematical job in a department that was occupied, other than me, by mathematicians.  I mean hard core mathematicians, the type of people who would describe their breakfast at Denny's and say "my plate was 37% pancakes."  These people wouldn't say goodbye at night because, after all, they would see you again tomorrow. (I'm sure the probability was in their favor.)  I think they never quite understood me, the writer and non-mathematician, but I did earn their respect.  The odds were with me.  I made good brownies.

There are a bunch of CPA jokes out there (some interchangeable with engineer jokes) but in reality, these mathematicians were (almost all) nice people, when you dug beneath the math/nerdiness.   There was the man who roasted his own coffee beans and made highly crafted furniture in his workshop on weekends.  There was the woman who was trying to make a go at it as a single mother and first time homeowner.  And there was the man who used to be a night orderly at a local hospital and still knew a lot of the street people who frequented downtown.


So I read with fascination how mathematicians are involved in the creation of slot machines.  Not the old fashioned three cherries type of slot machine, but the newer electronic slot machines who entertain while they take your money. Mathematicians developed these machines, honing them to a finely tuned point of "give people what they want but just enough to keep them playing and, oh by the way, make us a great profit." while people think all mathematicians do is argue over equations that looked like something Einstein wrote on a blackboard.

Later, I would read about massive multiple player games such as World of Warcraft.  Entire families playing together while their real lives fell apart.  No, not for me, I would never get sucked into one of those things.  I was above it all.  That addiction stuff, that spending 16 hours a day online, that was for other people.

Then along came FarmVille.

Obviously, this game was worked on by both mathematicians and psychologists because it sure does work its addictive magic.  The only thing saving humanity from spending 24/7 on online farming is....their glitchiness.  Better pray it remains glitchy.  Do not get lured into this little farming game, sounds like fun,you will interact with your friends and it's only a few minutes a day.  You will interact and interact and interact and interact and one day you will wake up at 3am and realize your wine is sitting ready for sale and oh, your friend out on the West Coast must have just played and if you sign on NOW you have a chance of getting 3 bushels of carrots from her to make Sake with and you maybe will get a brown chicken egg containing maybe fuel and maybe a wonderful prize but if you wait, her other friends will grab it first and besides, her pig just found a truffle on your farm and....

Goodbye sleep.

So why does FarmVille work?  I've given this a great deal of thought (and not at 3am either).  If I feel like it, one day I will write more.  It works on a number of levels and if you like psychology, you will love the insides of FarmVille.

The End of Johnson City High School?

The building, I mean.  And not the current building, but the historic Johnson City High School building on Main Street, which has been called the NYPENN Trade Center for many years.

I know at least one person who was in the last graduating class, which I think (don't quote me on this) was in 1973.

NYPENN has memories for us.  My son took karate lessons there for many years.

Now this building is in serious danger of being closed down.  I'm not sure of its exact age but I wouldn't be surprised if the building is at least 80 years old.  I am always sad about the passing of old buildings, especially ones that were kept in ill repair.  After its career as a high school, the Trade Center was a low-rent alternative for a lot of small businesses, some of which would never have succeeded without its shelter.  One was Gil's Book Loft, which used to reside in downtown Binghamton.  It ended up moving to NYPENN when Gil's closed its retail operations and went strictly internet.  The co owner of Gils is a retired Binghamton librarian, a wonderful person.  Where will they go?  Where will anyone go?

Now it will be just another vacant building on the fringes of downtown Johnson City.

Another, as they say, nail in the coffin of what used to be a thriving village.  Even the Johnson City Field Days, which start tonight and end with the traditional Labor Day fireworks on Monday night, won't be enough to brighten the village this weekend.