The Stories They Could Tell

All of our parents and senior citizens have wonderful stories to tell. I put those in two different categories because our parents certainly can’t be considered senior citizens. That would be aging me in a way I am not yet prepared to be labeled. Heck, even in my few years on this green and blue planet, I have seen a lot of changes. But for now, the stories of the ages go to our parents. Oh, if we could just record everything they know, everything they have experienced. How much more enlightened and entertained and wise would we be?

During our recent trip to Jann’s folks I was reminded of this treasure as we packed their things and reminisced along the way over the once thought trivial artifacts that mark baby steps and milestones in a family’s life. We must do a better job in recording these stories. If only we could talk everyone in to writing their own biography, like my Aunt and Uncle Clifford and Anna Sawyer have.

Jann’s folks, Herb and Iris, are veterans, having served in WWII in the Pacific Theater. I won’t pretend to provide all the details here because surely I will make mistakes. And if I do, please jump in with your comments and correct and add to the story. Herb was in what was then the Army Air Corps (Air Force) and flew P51 Mustangs. Iris and her sister Oral (Scottie) served as nurses. They met while in the service and married. One of Herb’s many experiences included a stint as a commander of a Japanese POW camp. After the war, they were stationed in Japan for a while and were there when Jann was born. Yep, Jann was born in Japan.

Here are a couple of the treasures we brought home that mark these memories. A cedar lined, veneer surfaced clothes chest, complete with the years of marks and chips and peeling veneer that make it family. Iris and her sister bought this chest new to store their clothes in when they left for the service.

And then there’s this box. A metal reinforced wooden equipment box complete with some Japanese labeling inside that Herb used as a shipping crate to send some artifacts home from Japan when he first returned to the States.

On the Road

The Densten's have left New Jersey! Jann flew down last night and they are now driving across Pennsylvania to their new home in Madison, IN. It's been quite an adventure so far and I am sure there is more to come.

UPDATE: An hour and a half into the trip, they had a flat tire. Unlike the Clampett family who's spare tire was on top of the pile, their spare is at the bottom of the loaded down car. All things considered, they are waiting for a couple of hours for AAA. So, to the tune of the theme song to the Beverly Hillbillies.....

Come and listen to a story ‘bout a couple named Densten
Veterans both, they served their country well
After living many years in a South Jersey cabin
They put it up for sale and sold it handily

Mulla, greenbacks, ka ching.

Well the next thing you know they’re rolling in the dough,
Kinfolk said, folks move away from there
Said Indiany is the place you ought to be
So they loaded up the truck and moved to Madison.
Indiana, that is.

new golf courses, stores, go explore.

Well now its time to say hello to Herb and Iris too.
In their new mansion on a Madison avenue
You’re all invited soon to that locality
To have a heapin helpin of their hospitality.

Ice tea that is. Set a spell. Take your shoes off. Y'all come soon now, y'hear?

Spring House

The red winged black birds are back too. Usually they are one of the first songbirds that return in the spring.

In the poem about crab apple jelly, you learned that the tree was down by the spring, the old milkhouse spring. That’s about a half-mile down the road from the house and seems to be one of those landmarks that everyone knows. It’s a destination. Not because it holds any magic of its own. But just because it’s always been there: never changing. As in, let’s walk down to the spring. Everyone knows.

It was actually a spring that was originally developed to cool milk. The vestige of the old foundation remains and in my minds eye, it seems I can remember the little shack covering it. The pipe runs cold, clean, water year round and plenty of it. And back in the day, prior to mechanical refrigeration, the milk from my grandfather’s (and great grandfather’s) small herd of hand-milked cows was placed in cans and hauled by horse down to the “springhouse” before it was later taken to various cheese plants in the area.

We no longer own the property the spring is on, but it remains a part of our history. And it remains a destination not just for us, but for many in the area, who come to the spring with their bottles and jugs, and carry home with them the best tasting drinking water to be found, Biscuit Hollow brand.

About 15 years ago, a neighbor, Bernard Payne, who used to have a milk bottling plant, approached me about NY regulations about bottling water and thought it would be a good idea if we looked into bottling this water commercially. I provided him the contact information but nothing ever came of it. If we only knew what a hit bottled water was going to become…..I can see it now: bottles of Biscuit Hollow Babbling spring water on the top shelf in supermarkets across America, right above that inferior Dasani. Now that makes your mouth water!

Mom

My mom is sick. She had a light stroke several weeks ago. She is now hospitalized with severe abdominal pain. They are conducting a battery of tests to find out, as Mom would say, what ails her. Please keep her in your prayers.

In the spirit of honoring her strength and influence as we pray for her speedy recovery, I share this poem I wrote several years ago for Mom on the occassion of Mother's Day. As you read the poem, it may help you to know that my mother's maiden name was Cook.

CRAB APPLE JELLY

Down by the spring
an apple tree grew
an ugly tree
and ugly fruit.

Fed by the pure waters
of the old milkhouse spring
we watched it blossom
in it we watched the birds sing.

It’s beauty has grown
through all these years
not the tree
but the master it knows

That old fruit I recall
was sour to taste
fun to put on a stick
Dad taught us to whip it away.

But the tree held magic
a friendly thing
we watched it and smelled it
the blossoms smelled sweet.

Each year as it did
it’s thing by itself
no prunning, no care
just a harvest time wish.

We climbed up it’s branches
we threw stones at it too
we picked up the drops
and plucked some of the fruit.

For what reason you say
did we ignore the tree in this way
‘cause we knew some one special
would bring hope to our sway.


We carried them home
and after a taste
a sour look on our face
we gave them away.

We gave them to the Master
a Cook, it was she
she could turn anything
in to a treat.

Alas, the old tree
it is gone now for sure
we will miss climbing its branches
we will miss tossing its fruit.

But we still enjoy the blessing
of that wonderful magic
the skills of that lady
that lady a Cook.

Crab apple jelly
so tasty and sweet
red and delicious
from that ugly old fruit.

I still have a few jars
from the Master’s kitchen
rescued last summer
from the last bit of juice.

Let us gather together
sometime real soon
and honor the Cook
who’s delights made us swoon.

I’ll bring a jar
of Crab apple jelly
you make the toast
we’ll slap on the jelly.


We’ll talk and laugh
we’ll have a great time
we’ll honor the Master
the cook sublime.

What a blessing she is
she taught us to cook
she taught us to love
and how we should look.

She taught us to care
and how we should pray
she taught us to behave
and how we should say.

I thank you Lord
everyday of my life
for the blessings I have
and the Grace that you gave.

And I thank you Lord
for the Mother I have
the cook sublime
the master cook.

On this Mother’s day
that’s why I say
Mom thank you again
for your special tune.

Your music, your piano,
your accordian too
the hope that you gave
the valuable lessons too.

This special day
I hold dear everyday
for you are our teacher
our guide and our friend.


That old tree is gone
but the memories are dear
how Your love reflects
such hope every year.

My life reflects
what’s impossible to say
how you’ve turned an ugly old fruit
into Crab Apple Jelly.

Tractor project

Here’s a picture of the pond and the old ice I was talking about yesterday. Today’s mission in Biscuit Hollow was to put in some new glass in a window on the front porch that had blown out during a big windstorm. And then, replace the gas tank on the 1953 Ford NAA Golden Jubilee. I had the tractor engine rebuilt last winter and the tractor painted, but the gas tank had been leaking as well. We thought we had it fixed, but half way through the brush hogging season last year, it started to leak again. So I found a new tank on the internet. I got the hood off today and the old tank removed. I need to paint the new tank before I put it in and put everything back together again.

Pussy Willows

I am in Biscuit Hollow for a day or so and am pleased to report that spring is finding it’s way here. I went for a walk tonight after I arrived and saw my first robin. And a few deer. The brooks are babbling with the spring thaw and snow melt. The ice has not yet gone off the pond but it’s not firm enough to walk on. I tried. One wet foot was the only casualty. The pond is now full (It was just built last fall.)and running over the outlet just like it’s supposed to. And the pussy willows are in bloom.

Every Man's Dream

This is a must have. Especially during March Madness. Mine would be filled with Diet Pepsi. Anybody need a Father's Day gift idea?

New Jersey Trip

We made the trip down to New Jersey this weekend after the storm with nary a problem. Upon arriving at Jann’s folks house, we dove right in to cleaning them out of house and home, I mean, helping them pack.

In the midst of selling their house of 48 years and moving to Madison, Indiana, there was a lot to do and a lot of stories to hear. Jann’s sister Starr from LA (http://www.lastarrcakes.com/index.html) had her flight cancelled so was still there. We felt really lucky to see her and she plans on staying through the week.
Sister Robin (Not a Nun) came in today from San Francisco to help out for the week, and Jann will drive her folks, Herb and Iris, to Indiana at the end of the month. They have purchased a new home near sister Nancy and her husband Benny.

There was a lot of reminiscing as we explored the artifacts and one last taste of South Jersey cheese steak sandwiches and cream donuts.

Rattlesnakes

We were going to go to Jann’s folks in New Jersey this afternoon. But this coastal storm has changed our plans. Maybe tomorrow. I really didn’t look forward to snaking through the Poconos on snow covered roads. I guess you could say, regarding our plans, we were snake-bitten.

Terribly forced segue, but let’s talk snakes. Rattlesnakes. The photos you see were taken last summer at a rest area on I86 just a stones throw from Painted Post. The area is known to have rattlesnake dens and occasionally, rattlesnakes are even found here in the village, generally when they have been flooded from their dens in the hills. The State went to quite an expense to improve the rest area much to our surprise considering the problem And shortly thereafter, voila, a snake was spotted. They closed the rest area for several months after the sighting, then apparently decided that putting up signs along the parking area was enough to minimize their liability.

Growing up in Biscuit Hollow, it was not uncommon for us to see several timber rattlesnakes a year. As I remember, some years we killed 4 or 5. That was before they became a “threatened” species. Maybe that is why they are threatened. We didn't go looking for them. Just in the course of our everyday lives, if they crossed our paths. It was a matter of safety. For the children, if you will. While we were hiking, harvesting hay, picking strawberries, or even playing in our yard or driveway! My mother was even known to dispatch one or two. For the children. It has been several decades since we have seen any rattlesnakes in Biscuit Hollow.

There was quite a local lore behind rattle snakes. They never came down off the mountain to our house area unless it was very dry and the theory was that they were coming to the creek behind the house for water. We never saw any on the opposite side of the creek. They always traveled in pairs. So if we found one, we started looking for the mate, and often found it. If you killed one, you had to cut off the head and bury the head separate from the body. Thus to absolutely insure that the devil never struck again. Rattlesnakes would even strike at you without their head. That I witnessed. It was said that their body didn’t “die” until sundown. We were taught that you didn’t step over a log or rock, you stepped on and out from it, lest a snake was lying under the object. It was always fun to take the rattles in to school to show everyone and the measure of a snake was the number of “buttons” on the rattles. And of course, the length of the snake in inches was an important bragging point. The largest I remember was 54”. But this all makes me sound like a really big redneck, so I’ll deny every bit of it if asked.

Oh. I don’t know if it really tastes like chicken.

Sugar Snow

Today we received what the old timers called a sugar snow. It harkens back to the days of old when we would help my Dad and Grandpa boil maple sap. Fond memories resurface of the wood fired boiler warming us on a cold late winter’s night, huddled in the sugar shack as we watched the sap boil, smelling the smoke of the fire and the boiling sap, immersed in the sweet steam of the soon to be maple syrup. Occasionally skimming the foam from the surface, checking the temperature, stoking the fire, and for a real treat, putting some eggs in the boiling sap for a hard-boiled egg snack. And then the next day, Grandma would send us kids out to gather some snow in a big pan and she would drizzle a specially prepared maple confection over the cold snow. It made a delightful taffy-like maple candy that we called jack wax, also known as sugar-on-snow.
http://www.massmaple.org/sos.html
My favorite description of sugar snow is from the book Sugar Snow(My First Little House) by Laura Ingles Wilder.
“No,” Pa said. “It’s called a sugar snow, because a snow this time of year means that men can make more sugar. You see, this little cold spell and the snow will hold back the leafing of the trees, and that makes a longer run of sap.
“When there’s a long run of sap, it means that Grandpa can make enough maple sugar to last all the year, for common every day. When he takes his furs to town, he will not need to trade for much store sugar. He will get only a little store sugar, to have on the table when company comes.”
“Grandpa must be glad there’s a sugar snow,” said Laura.
“Yes,” said Pa, “he’s very glad. He’s going to sugar off again next Monday, and he says we must all come.”
Pa’s blue eyes twinkled; he had been saving the best for the last, and he said to Ma:“Hey, Caroline! There’ll be a dance!”
For a sorta technical definition of sugar snow, check this link: http://www.goshen.edu/merrylea/sugar/meterol.htm

Magic Carpet Ride

That's what I think of when I look at this photo. Loren created it by taking the aerial photo of Biscuit Hollow posted several days ago and mapping it in to Google Earth. To really do it justice, you have to look at it full screen. But then even better, if you have Google Earth installed on your computer, by clicking on the following link that Loren created, it's absolutely amazing to be able to look at it from many different angles. Thanks Loren.

http://bbs.keyhole.com/ubb/download.php?Number=831163

Hockey

Jeff has just finished his hockey season. He played on two hockey teams. The combined Corning high school team pictured above, and an area wide youth hockey team.

High Honor Roll

Jeff made High Honor roll for the second time this year!

Biscuit Hollow from the Air

I love aerial photography. It's a good thing since I use them in my job everyday. They are a great tool. This is the latest aerial photography that I am aware of for this area. Biscuit Hollow. It was taken mid July, 2006.

Biscuit Hollow

I don't know where this blog will take us exactly, but I can guess that a lot of it will be about my family homestead, where I was born and raised. So let me get some preliminaries out of the way for those of you who haven't been exposed to this before. We were fortunate to be able to buy the house and remaining 120 acres several years ago and enjoy a lot of time there in the country. Our "farm" is located in the Southwest corner of Woodhull, NY, and actually borders on Pennsylvania. My father always referred to it has Biscuit Hollow. We thought that was a made up name, a little too quaint for us sophisticated young people, even a little corny.

Several years ago I was looking at some USGS topography maps of the area. Usually I look at the NY quadrangles but this time I looked at the Knoxville, PA, quadrangle and voila! There was "Biscuit Hollow". So now that it's official, that's the name I most often use to describe our little piece of heaven.





You can click on the map above and see it full size. Or you can click on the link below and see the original.


TopoZone - USGS Knoxville (PA,NY) Topo Map: "UTM 18 296511E 4652478N (NAD27)
"

Kindergarten

Have you seen the new game show "Are You Smarter than a Fifth Grader" hosted by Jeff Foxworthy? It's funny. They make a point of poking fun of people for not remembering elementary education. Today I was reminded of the following article. I don't care so much if people don't remember what they learned in grammar school. But I sure wish more people could remember what they learned in kindergarten. And actually practice it!


ALL I REALLY NEED TO KNOW I LEARNED IN KINDERGARTEN

All I really need to know about how to live and what to do and how to be I learned in kindergarten. Wisdom was not at the top of the graduate school mountain, but there in the sand pile at school.

These are the things I learned:
Share everything.
Play fair.
Don't hit people.
Put things back where you found them.
Clean up your own mess.
Don't take things that aren't yours.
Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody.
Wash your hands before you eat.
Flush.
Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.
Live a balanced life - learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some.
Take a nap every afternoon.
When you go out in the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands and stick together.
Be aware of wonder. Remember the little seed in the Styrofoam cup: the roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.
Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup - they all die. So do we.
And then remember the Dick-and-Jane books and the first word you learned - the biggest word of all - LOOK.
Everything you need to know is in there somewhere. The Golden Rule and love and basic sanitation. Ecology and politics and equality and sane living.
Take any one of those items and extrapolate it into sophisticated adult terms and apply it to your family life or your work or government or your world and it holds true and clear and firm. Think what a better world it would be if we all - the whole world - had cookies and milk at about 3 o'clock in the afternoon and then lay down with our blankies for a nap. Or if all governments had as a basic policy to always put things back where they found them and to clean up their own mess.
And it is still true, no matter how old you are, when you go out in the world, it is best to hold hands and stick together.[Source: "ALL I REALLY NEED TO KNOW I LEARNED IN KINDERGARTEN" by Robert Fulghum. See his web site at http://www.robertfulghum.com/ ]

Note to Self

Maybe a little TOO close to home. I wonder what other things might "creep" up on me during this aging process. Although I seem to have more of a problem with sagging. I guess I should conduct a personal inventory of habits, phrases, and wardrobe. I am pretty sure I won't ask Jeff for his opinion.

A Picture of Sermons, Metaphorically Speaking

This was just one of those things that made you think. Or, you can just admire the pretty flower and leave it at that. But if you knew the back story, maybe it would be more inspirational.

This was our stone patio between the deck and the garage last summer. Above this barren spot on the corner of the garage there was a hanging basket the year before. Apparently, a seed dropped into the crack in the concrete below. A year later, late summer, after several applications of weed killer to eliminate the weeds in the area, and hundreds of footfalls, this bloom appeared. No fertilizer, watering, or protection from sun. No encouragement, not planned, not wanted.

Rather than pulling it out, we walked around it for the next several months, expecting to find it dead each day. Noticing it daily, admiring it's strength, endurance, and simple beauty. The first frost came and other flowers received protection, this one surviving regardless. And then many frosts, and this lone survivor brightened each day late into the fall.

You can take it from here. Phil. 4. 8.

Thank You

Thank you everyone for your birthday greetings. It was a wonderful birthday with many highlights. Here is Jeff enthusiastically serving me my Boston Cream Pie birthday cake. McKenna gave me a birthday hug yesterday. And here's a shout out to Lucas who left a message about our restaurant visit yesterday saying he wished he was there. We wish you were all there too, Lucas. Jeff and Andrew gave me a John Denver Essentials CD and Jann gave me a gift certificate for a high altitude wildlife observation platform (otherwise known as a tree stand). Each greeting was very special and I am greatful for my family and friends.

Birthday

So it's my birthday. I'm old. But not senior citizen old!?!? I like the world according to Jann that asserts that middle age is 50 - 65. It's bad enough that AARP signs you up while you are still so young, but Jann says it is particularly sad that not only do they think you are older than you possibly could be, they give you an "expiration" date. I'm sorry, but I'll expire when I'm good and ready, thank you very much!

Jann gets a membership simply because she's married to what they consider an old guy. She finds absolutely no humor in that and even less consolation that she might be able to use it for discounts. She refuses to even put it in her purse. The implication is just too horrible for her to accept.

On the other hand, every year I am reminded of Adam's sage observation. "Just because you're over the hill doesn't mean you can't have fun on the way down!"

The Sap is Running

Lynn, Gail, and McKenna met Jann, Jeff, and me halfway this morning, in Portville, at Sprague's Maple Farm Restaurant, http://www.spraguesmaplefarms.com/ where Lynn describes the food as simply, "The best restaurant food I've ever eaten." It was really great seeing them, but the visit was just too short. McKenna posed for this beautiful picture. Lynn and I were visiting with the owner after our brunch. He told us they had their first sap run of 4,000 to 5,000 gallons from their 17,000 taps yesterday.