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.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Saturday, September 25, 2010
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.
"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.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
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
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?
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?
Friday, September 10, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, September 6, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, September 3, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Bicycles and Bluegrass
Such a wonderful thing that has arisen out of tragedy.
In 1983 a student by the name of Chris Thater, while cycling, was killed by a drunk driver near Harpursville, NY.
His friends would not let that senseless death rest. Rather, they have turned it into one heck of a memorial. The Chris Thater Memorial. A two day bicycle race held in a residential neighborhood in Binghamton bordering Binghamton's Recreation Park, made somewhat famous by several episodes of the Twilight Zone. (Rod Serling grew up nearby and spent a lot of time in that park), it celebrates "Stop DWI" and brings bicyclists from all over the world to our small city.
For the 27th year, bicyclists assembled from all over the world: Australia, Guyana and more (even Asheville, NC). The scene: surreal. Neighbors set up lemonade stands or sit on their lawns and watched the riders. Riders sped around blocked off streets (some posts protected with hay bales) at 30-35 mph with local residents cheering them on and ringing cowbells. In the park there was a mix of people listening to music, dancing, gyrating with a hula hoop, visiting the refreshment stands. Residents and racers rode bicycles through the park. ( I talked to a woman who came in with a tandem recumbant bicycle-more on that in another post (maybe).)
Mission in Motion was there, and I briefly was able to talk to the team member I know before her race started.
This year, an expanded music lineup entertained all. What a blast, hearing good music while watching the riders going around and around. Every 2 1/2 minutes or so the pace car came by, followed by the pack, speeding in back of the stage.
They say upwards of 10,000. people come each year.
Here are some of the bands we enjoyed:
One Click Culture
The Terry Walker Project (sadly, the sound system never quite worked for them - but if you love Blood, Sweat and Tears you'd love them. And, they did an unbelieveable cover of James Brown's Living in America;
Dirt Farm
Both spouse and I were somewhat overcome by the sun and never got to see another highly regarded band from Rochester, the Boogiemen.
This year, not a cloud in the sky, and I have a sunburned neck to testify to that. That's not usual weather for Binghamton. One could almost think Chris Thater was smiling down on us, knowing his untimely death was not in vain.
In 1983 a student by the name of Chris Thater, while cycling, was killed by a drunk driver near Harpursville, NY.
His friends would not let that senseless death rest. Rather, they have turned it into one heck of a memorial. The Chris Thater Memorial. A two day bicycle race held in a residential neighborhood in Binghamton bordering Binghamton's Recreation Park, made somewhat famous by several episodes of the Twilight Zone. (Rod Serling grew up nearby and spent a lot of time in that park), it celebrates "Stop DWI" and brings bicyclists from all over the world to our small city.
For the 27th year, bicyclists assembled from all over the world: Australia, Guyana and more (even Asheville, NC). The scene: surreal. Neighbors set up lemonade stands or sit on their lawns and watched the riders. Riders sped around blocked off streets (some posts protected with hay bales) at 30-35 mph with local residents cheering them on and ringing cowbells. In the park there was a mix of people listening to music, dancing, gyrating with a hula hoop, visiting the refreshment stands. Residents and racers rode bicycles through the park. ( I talked to a woman who came in with a tandem recumbant bicycle-more on that in another post (maybe).)
Mission in Motion was there, and I briefly was able to talk to the team member I know before her race started.
This year, an expanded music lineup entertained all. What a blast, hearing good music while watching the riders going around and around. Every 2 1/2 minutes or so the pace car came by, followed by the pack, speeding in back of the stage.
They say upwards of 10,000. people come each year.
Here are some of the bands we enjoyed:
One Click Culture
The Terry Walker Project (sadly, the sound system never quite worked for them - but if you love Blood, Sweat and Tears you'd love them. And, they did an unbelieveable cover of James Brown's Living in America;
Dirt Farm
Both spouse and I were somewhat overcome by the sun and never got to see another highly regarded band from Rochester, the Boogiemen.
This year, not a cloud in the sky, and I have a sunburned neck to testify to that. That's not usual weather for Binghamton. One could almost think Chris Thater was smiling down on us, knowing his untimely death was not in vain.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Heritage Farming on FarmVille
For all my complaints against FarmVille (and I can't complain - it is tree after all, unless you WANT to pay for it) I will say that FarmVille is paying a lot more attention to heritage farming issues lately.
Here are some nice recent touches:
1. Adding the opportunity to run farmstead wineries, "spas" and bakeries, using goods you grow on your farm to make products. You then sell products to your neighbors, and some of your goods can also be "sold" in return for fuel. I understand a "pig pen" feature will be added in the near future, where pigs can be fed from the bushels of certain crops the FarmVille farmer grows. That will be interesting to see.
2. More and more "heritage animals" and unusual breeds: Scots Grey chickens (I never owned them in my years of chicken ownership but they are an old time breed, similar in looks to Barred Rocks (which I have owned), and date from about the 16th century), Boer Goats (this website is a hoot)-and I understand more are to come-and many more. When you get one, go online and read about them.
3. Crops: besides the recent short term organic blueberries, there are purple podded peas and purple carrots. Yes, I've grown both! Many people don't realize that the original cultivated carrots were not orange.
Why should I care? Because FarmVille is probably the closest that many Americans (and maybe others) will ever get to a true small farm. Granted, true small farms don't have tiki bars, miniature Eiffel Towers and Tuscan Wedding Tents. But what they do have is very hard working family oriented people who care about the food they grow.
Yes, FarmVille, way to go. Keep up the good work-but not too fast, we don't want any more glitches. Even if they are organic glitches.
Here are some nice recent touches:
1. Adding the opportunity to run farmstead wineries, "spas" and bakeries, using goods you grow on your farm to make products. You then sell products to your neighbors, and some of your goods can also be "sold" in return for fuel. I understand a "pig pen" feature will be added in the near future, where pigs can be fed from the bushels of certain crops the FarmVille farmer grows. That will be interesting to see.
2. More and more "heritage animals" and unusual breeds: Scots Grey chickens (I never owned them in my years of chicken ownership but they are an old time breed, similar in looks to Barred Rocks (which I have owned), and date from about the 16th century), Boer Goats (this website is a hoot)-and I understand more are to come-and many more. When you get one, go online and read about them.
3. Crops: besides the recent short term organic blueberries, there are purple podded peas and purple carrots. Yes, I've grown both! Many people don't realize that the original cultivated carrots were not orange.
Why should I care? Because FarmVille is probably the closest that many Americans (and maybe others) will ever get to a true small farm. Granted, true small farms don't have tiki bars, miniature Eiffel Towers and Tuscan Wedding Tents. But what they do have is very hard working family oriented people who care about the food they grow.
Yes, FarmVille, way to go. Keep up the good work-but not too fast, we don't want any more glitches. Even if they are organic glitches.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
OMG-My MIL is on Facebook
I hope I am as up to date when I am in my 80's.
Actually, I've been (along with some of her friends) encouraging my mother in law to get on Facebook for a while. To me it is easier than email and it has wonderful photo sharing tools. She had a lot of misgivings, although she is very social. I couldn't blame her for some of her misgivings, especially about online safety.
But today, a niece from way out of town visited and - voila-she was on. She joined about 4 hours ago and already has 9 friends. I hope this niece set her up for maximum privacy settings.
It was a pleasant surprise when I came home tonight and found the friend request.
Way to go.
So far the friends are all younger relatives, ranging from their 60's to their 20's. I hope she can make contact with "true" friends. Wouldn't it be something?
Now (hee hee) if I can interest her in FarmVille.....
Actually, I've been (along with some of her friends) encouraging my mother in law to get on Facebook for a while. To me it is easier than email and it has wonderful photo sharing tools. She had a lot of misgivings, although she is very social. I couldn't blame her for some of her misgivings, especially about online safety.
But today, a niece from way out of town visited and - voila-she was on. She joined about 4 hours ago and already has 9 friends. I hope this niece set her up for maximum privacy settings.
It was a pleasant surprise when I came home tonight and found the friend request.
Way to go.
So far the friends are all younger relatives, ranging from their 60's to their 20's. I hope she can make contact with "true" friends. Wouldn't it be something?
Now (hee hee) if I can interest her in FarmVille.....
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Urban Eggs
Grow your own eggs!
Urban chicken farming. What? Who, me? Well, it is a time honored tradition. You would be surprised to know the cities that allow keeping of chickens. I'd love to know your experiences - please feel welcome to post.
Isn't it illegal? Well, that depends on where you live. If it is illegal, don't try it at home. But do lobby for having the law changed. Various communities have changed their laws in recent years. After this "egg scandal" I bet more will. Be sure to do your research so you don't learn "the hard way".
Again, this isn't a political blog so I will keep to my area of expertise - I do love chickens, and I used to keep them. But be aware: it is work! (but maybe no more than owning a couple of dogs.)
We haven't tried urban chicken farming. Yet. But the latest scare, the famous Iowa egg scare, may have a lot of people thinking about trying it.
I'm not going to give you a lot of advice, having only raised and kept chickens in rural settings. Instead, if you are lucky and your local laws allow, here are some tips from my store of experience:
1. Stick to the ladies. You probably will have to, anyway, as urban laws generally ban roosters (for very good reasons). But chickens will lay eggs quite happily without a rooster. I doubt they miss the males anyway. You won't miss roosters either. They can be very aggressive and they have spurs on their legs. (Ouch!) They don't crow once at dawn and shut up for the day. Oh no. It's more like every few minutes and they only stop at night. They will wear your ladies out. Again, stick to the ladies unless you want to eat chicken, also.
2. Socialize your ladies. If you get the chicks young, spend time with them. Handle them. They do make good pets, if you don't mind pets who can dig up your garden in seconds flat. Fence well. They can fly, especially the smaller breeds and your neighbors won't want chickens in their flowers any more than they want your cats in their flowers.
3. Get the right breed for your needs. Decide if you want the chickens for both meat and eggs or just meat, or just eggs. If you want meat well...is there a place or person who will do the deed or will you have to? Are you up to it? It's not pretty. But some will say you should do this from beginning to end. Be sure to choose a breed with a name. Some "all purpose" breeds will give both good meat and nice, brown eggs.
You won't be able to do the mail order of my last post, as you have to get 25 at a time (to keep each other warm). If you are lucky you have access to a farm store. Otherwise, you will have to find some friends and split an order.
4. But if you do eat your chickens be aware these are not your supermarket chickens. They will have lots of flavor-and lots of toughness. There are some very nice recipes out there for "free range" chickens and there is a reason for those recipes. They make wonderful soup, by the way. Wonderful, golden, tasty true chicken soup. They say it is great for colds. My son sure swears by chicken soup for colds.
5. But back to eggs....one thing you also need to be aware of is that egg production is photo sensitive. In other words, if you want eggs in the winter you are (unless you live in a place like Florida) going to have to put lights on them to artifically extend their day. If you don't, you aren't going to get many eggs. Be sure you make provision for that.
Feed? If you don't have a local farm store you can mail order the food. They will need a mix of grains, or layer pellets if you want to simplify their feeding. Great supplements include weeds from your garden and bugs from your garden. (Squeamish alert) we used to feed our chickens grasshoppers and weeds. They love both.
6. Finally, chickens....well, um, that food you feed them comes out the other end. Don't use it on your garden without aging it, and make sure your neighbors are OK with it. Otherwise, dispose of in an "organic" manner. I guarantee it if you offer the used bedding for free you will have some very eager gardeners ready to haul it away for you. (maybe you could sell them some eggs, too.....) Be considerate of your neighbors, always. If you tick them off you aren't going to be successful - period.
Sorry for the ramble but I just couldn't resist sharing what little I know. Good luck, and take my advice for what it is worth-I hope it is worth something to you. Maybe one day we will take the urban plunge-although I don't think so, we want to travel too much!
Urban chicken farming. What? Who, me? Well, it is a time honored tradition. You would be surprised to know the cities that allow keeping of chickens. I'd love to know your experiences - please feel welcome to post.
Isn't it illegal? Well, that depends on where you live. If it is illegal, don't try it at home. But do lobby for having the law changed. Various communities have changed their laws in recent years. After this "egg scandal" I bet more will. Be sure to do your research so you don't learn "the hard way".
Again, this isn't a political blog so I will keep to my area of expertise - I do love chickens, and I used to keep them. But be aware: it is work! (but maybe no more than owning a couple of dogs.)
We haven't tried urban chicken farming. Yet. But the latest scare, the famous Iowa egg scare, may have a lot of people thinking about trying it.
I'm not going to give you a lot of advice, having only raised and kept chickens in rural settings. Instead, if you are lucky and your local laws allow, here are some tips from my store of experience:
1. Stick to the ladies. You probably will have to, anyway, as urban laws generally ban roosters (for very good reasons). But chickens will lay eggs quite happily without a rooster. I doubt they miss the males anyway. You won't miss roosters either. They can be very aggressive and they have spurs on their legs. (Ouch!) They don't crow once at dawn and shut up for the day. Oh no. It's more like every few minutes and they only stop at night. They will wear your ladies out. Again, stick to the ladies unless you want to eat chicken, also.
2. Socialize your ladies. If you get the chicks young, spend time with them. Handle them. They do make good pets, if you don't mind pets who can dig up your garden in seconds flat. Fence well. They can fly, especially the smaller breeds and your neighbors won't want chickens in their flowers any more than they want your cats in their flowers.
3. Get the right breed for your needs. Decide if you want the chickens for both meat and eggs or just meat, or just eggs. If you want meat well...is there a place or person who will do the deed or will you have to? Are you up to it? It's not pretty. But some will say you should do this from beginning to end. Be sure to choose a breed with a name. Some "all purpose" breeds will give both good meat and nice, brown eggs.
You won't be able to do the mail order of my last post, as you have to get 25 at a time (to keep each other warm). If you are lucky you have access to a farm store. Otherwise, you will have to find some friends and split an order.
4. But if you do eat your chickens be aware these are not your supermarket chickens. They will have lots of flavor-and lots of toughness. There are some very nice recipes out there for "free range" chickens and there is a reason for those recipes. They make wonderful soup, by the way. Wonderful, golden, tasty true chicken soup. They say it is great for colds. My son sure swears by chicken soup for colds.
5. But back to eggs....one thing you also need to be aware of is that egg production is photo sensitive. In other words, if you want eggs in the winter you are (unless you live in a place like Florida) going to have to put lights on them to artifically extend their day. If you don't, you aren't going to get many eggs. Be sure you make provision for that.
Feed? If you don't have a local farm store you can mail order the food. They will need a mix of grains, or layer pellets if you want to simplify their feeding. Great supplements include weeds from your garden and bugs from your garden. (Squeamish alert) we used to feed our chickens grasshoppers and weeds. They love both.
6. Finally, chickens....well, um, that food you feed them comes out the other end. Don't use it on your garden without aging it, and make sure your neighbors are OK with it. Otherwise, dispose of in an "organic" manner. I guarantee it if you offer the used bedding for free you will have some very eager gardeners ready to haul it away for you. (maybe you could sell them some eggs, too.....) Be considerate of your neighbors, always. If you tick them off you aren't going to be successful - period.
Sorry for the ramble but I just couldn't resist sharing what little I know. Good luck, and take my advice for what it is worth-I hope it is worth something to you. Maybe one day we will take the urban plunge-although I don't think so, we want to travel too much!
Monday, August 23, 2010
Mail Order Chicken Memories
I never realized that Iowa is the #1 egg producer in the country. I wonder when that happened. (I could research that, but....)
I lived briefly in Iowa in the 1970's and have been back many times since. When I think of Iowa, I think of (not necessarily in this order): Pork, soybeans, corn. In fact, if you ask my son (who has been to Iowa several times) his memories, they are of miles and miles of very boring cornfields. I don't think I saw many chicken houses there (and yes, I have been in them, when I lived in Arkansas-a former neighbor bought a chicken farm and we visited him.)
When I think of Iowa, I also think of local food, of heritage breeds, of farmers who still care. Iowa does have at least one heritage breed poultry breeder, who we bought from several times when we lived in Arkansas: the incomparable Murray McMurray Hatchery.
Iowa also has wonderful, friendly people and a wonderful place we have never been to-the headquarters of the Seed Savers Exchange in Decorah, Iowa and its Heritage Farm..
Exactly the opposite of the current egg scandal farm owners, the folks at Seed Savers work to keep genetic diversity in our seeds, and also seek to keep heritage breeds of certain animals alive. Their work deserves to be well publicized. Please visit their website and read their blog.
Too bad Iowa right now is in the news for something totally different-tainted eggs. Half a billion eggs recalled. And, thanks to factory farming, shipped to 22 states. It would seem these farms have had many violations-the "same old same old". I will not go into a rant about food safety regulations-this is not a political blog. So instead I would like to share some memories of when Iowa farming goes right.
I have fond memories of visiting the Iowa City Farmers Market. Iowa City is a college town so, as you could expect, they had their share of organic booths. Of course, everything was locally grown and made.
Yes, in Iowa the small farmer still exists, marketing the most delicious pork and beef (sorry, vegetarian readers), plus all the usual veggies. In a climate hotter than ours in the northeast, one even saw okra and some other southern favorites for sale.
But I promised to speak about mail order chicken memories. I want to share something about raising chickens and "growing" our own eggs-from Iowa chickens.
Back in the 1980's, when we kept chickens, we would spend the New Year perusing the Murray McMurray catalog, with its brightly colored pictures of what was even then called "rare" chickens. These are the chickens with names, not numbers: Barred Rocks, Rhode Island Reds, Black Australorps, Buff Orpingtons, New Hampshire...and on and one-about 130 breeds total.
We would make our selection and place our order (in the mail, of course). No internet, no fascinating website giving pictures of their operations, no instant update of stock on hand. Rather, we placed our order and waited for the day we specified. We did it the "old fashioned" way which, in those days, was the only way.
On the appointed day, there would be a phone call from our local rural post office. We had to come and get them; they would not deliver. The box, cheeping away, was rushed home. In a miracle that we could never get tired of, the living chicks survived the trip. Just imagine opening a box and being greeted by 25 cheeping 2 day old chicks! We would take each one out gently, dip its beak in water, and put each precious chick in a little pen under a warm light. The waterer and feeder were made from mason jars screwed into special "lips". We fed them commercial but unmedicated chick starter. After a day or so, they would be ready for supplementation with the occasional June Bug attracted by the light.
This next part is not for the squeamish. The chicks would get hold of the unfortunate bug and chase each other, trying to snatch what was left of the large bug (it didn't last very long) in a game of chick free-for-all. The whole while, they would be screaming in delight.
Don't ever say baby chicks are cute. Not unless you've seen one of those feedings.
You have to love chickens to know them. And you have to accept their nature. Chickens are omnivores, and they lust for blood. If one of those chicks accidentally got cut, it would have suffered the same fate as that bug.
Well, those chicks would grow, and about 6 months later the female (pullets) would start to lay their small beginner eggs. The males? Well, that part isn't for the squeamish either. (I'll leave the part out about how roosters treat the hens also.) Now, that's living. Nothing like a wonderful, thick shelled, fresh egg. Except if you want to hard boil, in which case you want a slightly aged egg.
Know what? We never worried about salmonella. We ate raw (from scratch) cake batter. We even made (gasp!) real eggnog!
We moved back to urban life in 1986, and our chicken life was over. Well, maybe not so fast.
But what about Iowa, land of Seed Savers and rare chicken flocks? (yes, Murray McMurray uses local farmers to produce their eggs for hatching.)
I hope that the reputation of Iowa isn't tainted by this nightmare example of factory farming and inadequate food safety regulation. Instead, think of seed saving. Think of heritage chickens.
Support your local farmer. Know who produces your food. Know HOW it is produced. Ask questions. Ask lots of questions.
That's one way to protect yourself.
I lived briefly in Iowa in the 1970's and have been back many times since. When I think of Iowa, I think of (not necessarily in this order): Pork, soybeans, corn. In fact, if you ask my son (who has been to Iowa several times) his memories, they are of miles and miles of very boring cornfields. I don't think I saw many chicken houses there (and yes, I have been in them, when I lived in Arkansas-a former neighbor bought a chicken farm and we visited him.)
When I think of Iowa, I also think of local food, of heritage breeds, of farmers who still care. Iowa does have at least one heritage breed poultry breeder, who we bought from several times when we lived in Arkansas: the incomparable Murray McMurray Hatchery.
Iowa also has wonderful, friendly people and a wonderful place we have never been to-the headquarters of the Seed Savers Exchange in Decorah, Iowa and its Heritage Farm..
Exactly the opposite of the current egg scandal farm owners, the folks at Seed Savers work to keep genetic diversity in our seeds, and also seek to keep heritage breeds of certain animals alive. Their work deserves to be well publicized. Please visit their website and read their blog.
Too bad Iowa right now is in the news for something totally different-tainted eggs. Half a billion eggs recalled. And, thanks to factory farming, shipped to 22 states. It would seem these farms have had many violations-the "same old same old". I will not go into a rant about food safety regulations-this is not a political blog. So instead I would like to share some memories of when Iowa farming goes right.
I have fond memories of visiting the Iowa City Farmers Market. Iowa City is a college town so, as you could expect, they had their share of organic booths. Of course, everything was locally grown and made.
Yes, in Iowa the small farmer still exists, marketing the most delicious pork and beef (sorry, vegetarian readers), plus all the usual veggies. In a climate hotter than ours in the northeast, one even saw okra and some other southern favorites for sale.
But I promised to speak about mail order chicken memories. I want to share something about raising chickens and "growing" our own eggs-from Iowa chickens.
Back in the 1980's, when we kept chickens, we would spend the New Year perusing the Murray McMurray catalog, with its brightly colored pictures of what was even then called "rare" chickens. These are the chickens with names, not numbers: Barred Rocks, Rhode Island Reds, Black Australorps, Buff Orpingtons, New Hampshire...and on and one-about 130 breeds total.
We would make our selection and place our order (in the mail, of course). No internet, no fascinating website giving pictures of their operations, no instant update of stock on hand. Rather, we placed our order and waited for the day we specified. We did it the "old fashioned" way which, in those days, was the only way.
On the appointed day, there would be a phone call from our local rural post office. We had to come and get them; they would not deliver. The box, cheeping away, was rushed home. In a miracle that we could never get tired of, the living chicks survived the trip. Just imagine opening a box and being greeted by 25 cheeping 2 day old chicks! We would take each one out gently, dip its beak in water, and put each precious chick in a little pen under a warm light. The waterer and feeder were made from mason jars screwed into special "lips". We fed them commercial but unmedicated chick starter. After a day or so, they would be ready for supplementation with the occasional June Bug attracted by the light.
This next part is not for the squeamish. The chicks would get hold of the unfortunate bug and chase each other, trying to snatch what was left of the large bug (it didn't last very long) in a game of chick free-for-all. The whole while, they would be screaming in delight.
Don't ever say baby chicks are cute. Not unless you've seen one of those feedings.
You have to love chickens to know them. And you have to accept their nature. Chickens are omnivores, and they lust for blood. If one of those chicks accidentally got cut, it would have suffered the same fate as that bug.
Well, those chicks would grow, and about 6 months later the female (pullets) would start to lay their small beginner eggs. The males? Well, that part isn't for the squeamish either. (I'll leave the part out about how roosters treat the hens also.) Now, that's living. Nothing like a wonderful, thick shelled, fresh egg. Except if you want to hard boil, in which case you want a slightly aged egg.
Know what? We never worried about salmonella. We ate raw (from scratch) cake batter. We even made (gasp!) real eggnog!
We moved back to urban life in 1986, and our chicken life was over. Well, maybe not so fast.
But what about Iowa, land of Seed Savers and rare chicken flocks? (yes, Murray McMurray uses local farmers to produce their eggs for hatching.)
I hope that the reputation of Iowa isn't tainted by this nightmare example of factory farming and inadequate food safety regulation. Instead, think of seed saving. Think of heritage chickens.
Support your local farmer. Know who produces your food. Know HOW it is produced. Ask questions. Ask lots of questions.
That's one way to protect yourself.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Healing Wounds One Garlic Plant at a Time
No, this post isn't about the medicinal uses of the garlic plant. But if you came here by mistake, please stay and read anyway.
I'm talking about a totally different type of healing, healing psychic wounds of a community.
Yesterday we went to the ACA's Garlic Festival on the edge of downtown Binghamton.
After a one year hiatus due to the horrendous shooting of April 3, 2009, we welcome the festival back.
We weren't going to go until today, but the weather report, combined with a one hour postponement in an event we were supposed to go to yesterday afternoon, combined in us making the trip yesterday. We didn't have too long to say, so didn't go inside to purchase garlic food. There were lines and we didn't have time to wait.
Just think, going inside, into a building that some might say was haunted. But how fitting that laughter filled that space yesterday.
Outside, the mood was just as festive. A number of booths were selling...well, what else, but garic. Spanish Roja, White German, Music, Elephant, and many more, hung braided, sat in bags, or loose, next to plates with pieces cut up for pre-purchase sampling. We bought a couple of bags of spouses' favorite, Music. Another booth had local pestos- spinach, sun dried tomato, red pepper, and more. Still another booth had pesto made from garlic scapes. (Garlic scapes are the top of the garlic plant, just as the seed area starts to form. They are delicious but you have to get the plant at just the right time or they become tough.)
Still another vendor, reminiscent of the New York soup man Jerry Seinfeld modeled his "Soup Nazi" after, sold his genuine Pennsylvania smoked sausage. If you looked at him wrong, he told you to "Go to the back of the line!" (No Garlic for You!) But it was all in good fun, the crowds gathered to enjoy his banter and we bought some sausage from him, too.
Local food, local garlic, even garlic ice cream (which I would never dare to try). A good time was had by all.
I'm talking about a totally different type of healing, healing psychic wounds of a community.
Yesterday we went to the ACA's Garlic Festival on the edge of downtown Binghamton.
After a one year hiatus due to the horrendous shooting of April 3, 2009, we welcome the festival back.
We weren't going to go until today, but the weather report, combined with a one hour postponement in an event we were supposed to go to yesterday afternoon, combined in us making the trip yesterday. We didn't have too long to say, so didn't go inside to purchase garlic food. There were lines and we didn't have time to wait.
Just think, going inside, into a building that some might say was haunted. But how fitting that laughter filled that space yesterday.
Outside, the mood was just as festive. A number of booths were selling...well, what else, but garic. Spanish Roja, White German, Music, Elephant, and many more, hung braided, sat in bags, or loose, next to plates with pieces cut up for pre-purchase sampling. We bought a couple of bags of spouses' favorite, Music. Another booth had local pestos- spinach, sun dried tomato, red pepper, and more. Still another booth had pesto made from garlic scapes. (Garlic scapes are the top of the garlic plant, just as the seed area starts to form. They are delicious but you have to get the plant at just the right time or they become tough.)
Still another vendor, reminiscent of the New York soup man Jerry Seinfeld modeled his "Soup Nazi" after, sold his genuine Pennsylvania smoked sausage. If you looked at him wrong, he told you to "Go to the back of the line!" (No Garlic for You!) But it was all in good fun, the crowds gathered to enjoy his banter and we bought some sausage from him, too.
Local food, local garlic, even garlic ice cream (which I would never dare to try). A good time was had by all.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Arverne By the Sea
I've talked about growing up in what became a slum neighborhood of the Bronx, but I am actually from Queens.
I have only a few childhood memories of tales of the place that was my home back when I was a little baby, from where my parents moved from when I was five months old. I was never to return...at least so I thought.
Stories my Dad told me as a child, so distant in my memory, flooded back recently.
I was born in the Rockaways, an area of Queens (part of NYC). We lived on Beach 56th Street, in a neighborhood called Arverne.
Arverne had become a slum, too, by the time I was a teenager. My two childhood homes, both slums. No wonder I escaped New York City all together.
My Dad told me he would wheel my baby carriage on the Boardwalk. I was a baby during the winter. When it snowed, the snow would melt in the salt air. I love the ocean, although I don't see it often. The ocean is in my blood.
The other day, I picked up an old New York magazine where I exercise. People discard magazines and books. Sometimes I find something interesting. This magazine caught my eye. I brought it home.
The magazine talked about various New York City neighborhoods. One made me totally stop and gasp.
Arverne by the Sea. The magazine called it an "urbanist experiment".
It's urban renewal as you've never seen it. A social experiment. To be blunt, a lot of the area is high crime, and the commute to Manhattan is quite long. But on the bay side, Arverne by the Sea rises, challenging a hurricane to destroy it.
New York City does get hurricanes, you know.
I found something else online..the word Edgemere Houses. It's not the housing project where my parents lived-I wish I could remember the name but I know Edgemere wasn't it. But- I looked Edgemere up on the Internet and found a treasure trove of photos....including that boardwalk where I was wheeled in a baby carriage. Part of it is called Ocean Promenade and all together it's the largest boardwalk on the East Coast.
But much of what it winds through is....vacant. Abandoned. Such sad photos. Arverne by the Sea seeks to change that.
Arverne by the Sea. I will continue to follow the development with interest, and wish it much success. One day I will remember the name of the housing project where I lived as a baby, and perhaps the Internet will allow me to solve another puzzle of my childhood. And maybe one day both Arverne and my Bronx neighborhood will rise again from their ashes.
I have only a few childhood memories of tales of the place that was my home back when I was a little baby, from where my parents moved from when I was five months old. I was never to return...at least so I thought.
Stories my Dad told me as a child, so distant in my memory, flooded back recently.
I was born in the Rockaways, an area of Queens (part of NYC). We lived on Beach 56th Street, in a neighborhood called Arverne.
Arverne had become a slum, too, by the time I was a teenager. My two childhood homes, both slums. No wonder I escaped New York City all together.
My Dad told me he would wheel my baby carriage on the Boardwalk. I was a baby during the winter. When it snowed, the snow would melt in the salt air. I love the ocean, although I don't see it often. The ocean is in my blood.
The other day, I picked up an old New York magazine where I exercise. People discard magazines and books. Sometimes I find something interesting. This magazine caught my eye. I brought it home.
The magazine talked about various New York City neighborhoods. One made me totally stop and gasp.
Arverne by the Sea. The magazine called it an "urbanist experiment".
It's urban renewal as you've never seen it. A social experiment. To be blunt, a lot of the area is high crime, and the commute to Manhattan is quite long. But on the bay side, Arverne by the Sea rises, challenging a hurricane to destroy it.
New York City does get hurricanes, you know.
I found something else online..the word Edgemere Houses. It's not the housing project where my parents lived-I wish I could remember the name but I know Edgemere wasn't it. But- I looked Edgemere up on the Internet and found a treasure trove of photos....including that boardwalk where I was wheeled in a baby carriage. Part of it is called Ocean Promenade and all together it's the largest boardwalk on the East Coast.
But much of what it winds through is....vacant. Abandoned. Such sad photos. Arverne by the Sea seeks to change that.
Arverne by the Sea. I will continue to follow the development with interest, and wish it much success. One day I will remember the name of the housing project where I lived as a baby, and perhaps the Internet will allow me to solve another puzzle of my childhood. And maybe one day both Arverne and my Bronx neighborhood will rise again from their ashes.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
The Garlic of Hope
Another sign that the American Civic Association is returning to normal, whatever normal can be, after the horrible day of April 3, 2009 when life for the families of the 14 dead (including the murderer of 13 innocents) changed forever.
A couple of weeks ago a banner was strung across Court Street, announcing the return of the Multi-Ethnic Garlic Festival this weekend. A yearly event, it was cancelled last August due to the shootings.
We've gone to this festival several times. A lot of fun, you get to sample various garlics and garlic products. Spouse fell in love with one particular garlic variety called Music. He plans to buy some at the festival.
My walking companion said to me "how can you go back into that building after what happened?" We never spent much time in the building-the garlic vendors were outside, although inside the building you could get various cooked and raw garlic delicacies, including ice cream.
I don't know how they would handle it but I wouldn't be surprised if the building is closed to the public. As for me-yes, I think it would be spooky and sad. If I went inside, I might just break into tears, feeling the vibes of the dead. After all, I do know someone whose church friend was the woman who switched places with another teacher so she could get away for her wedding anniversary-and her friend died. But we will see. In a way, if they have the building open, I should go in. And not just as a curiosity seeker.
In the meantime, we are so happy the festival is resuming. Indeed this is the garlic of hope, a hope of healing.
A couple of weeks ago a banner was strung across Court Street, announcing the return of the Multi-Ethnic Garlic Festival this weekend. A yearly event, it was cancelled last August due to the shootings.
We've gone to this festival several times. A lot of fun, you get to sample various garlics and garlic products. Spouse fell in love with one particular garlic variety called Music. He plans to buy some at the festival.
My walking companion said to me "how can you go back into that building after what happened?" We never spent much time in the building-the garlic vendors were outside, although inside the building you could get various cooked and raw garlic delicacies, including ice cream.
I don't know how they would handle it but I wouldn't be surprised if the building is closed to the public. As for me-yes, I think it would be spooky and sad. If I went inside, I might just break into tears, feeling the vibes of the dead. After all, I do know someone whose church friend was the woman who switched places with another teacher so she could get away for her wedding anniversary-and her friend died. But we will see. In a way, if they have the building open, I should go in. And not just as a curiosity seeker.
In the meantime, we are so happy the festival is resuming. Indeed this is the garlic of hope, a hope of healing.
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