A New Generation at Kelly's

This past Saturday Melany and I met up with Rob, Sheila, and baby Liam at their home in Amherst for a special adventure--a trip to Kelly's Country Store (on Facebook) on Grand Island! This was an exciting event on several levels.

Kelly's isn't your typical small-town gift shop. In addition to crafts, candles, knickknacks, novelty items, small toys, home decorations, tableware, etc., there are always antique items, old tools, and other memorabilia lining the front porch, aisles, walls, and even the ceiling, which give the place a distinctly homey, throwback ambiance. They even have a "cigar-store Indian"--the same one, I think, that's been there for decades!

And then there's the old-fashioned "penny" candy, a long counter holding jar upon jar of it: horehound, sassafras, clove, root beer barrels, licorice, lemon drops, "boston baked beans," chocolate-covered peanuts and raisins--if you remember it, they have it! And lots of homemade fudge, of course (especially my favorite, maple).

What makes this place really unique is the way it's transformed into a wonderland at holiday-time, especially Christmas. A back room is opened; the approach-way is filled with every imaginable Christmas-tree ornament and wall- or table-decoration (just how many versions of Santa Claus are there?); another short aisle takes you past a moving diorama of the Holy Family.

And then you reach it: darkened but for one of those rotating "disco" lights (I hate to call it that because it conveys the impression that the room is cheesy and modern, which it isn't in the slightest), "Santa's room" is covered floor-to-ceiling, and all over the ceiling, with antique toys, sleds, and children's whatnot. At the far end of the room sits Santa himself in a big chair--and he's about the most "real" Santa you'll ever encounter! Children and their families wait in line for a few minutes with the jolly old fellow, and hardly mind the wait, being surrounded with so much magical stuff!

What makes Kelly's so special to our family is that we're now into the fourth generation of Flemings who love to visit there! My memory is a bit hazy, but I'm sure my parents took me and my siblings there now and then over the years since the store opened in 1962 (what other small-town country store do you know of that's been around almost 50 years?) I do distinctly remember riding my bicycle there as a teenager--our house was only 2 or 3 miles away--to buy some candy and play the old coin-operated music box they used to have. I liked to visit there during Christmas break from college and law school, too. Then I got married and had kids of my own, and we'd take them to Kelly's on our annual Thanksgiving weekend visit to Grandma and Grandpa Moran's--I don't think Grandpa ever accompanied us, but Grandma did as long as she was physically able!

Here's Grandma with Donna and Robert at Kelly's on Thanksgiving weekend 1988 (sorry I cut off your head, Grandma!)

Getting pictures taken with Santa was a yearly ritual!

Here's Donna, Colin and Robert with Santa at Kelly's on Thanksgiving weekend in 1989.

Now our kids are grown up, and Rob and Sheila have started taking theirs to Kelly's!

Here are the proud parents with Liam on a bench just outside the store.

Apparently Liam had decided to rest up (on Rob's shoulder) for the momentous occasion of his first meeting with Santa Claus himself!

Because Liam wasn't in a position (yet) to actually talk with Santa, we were allowed to go to the head of the line and have his picture taken with the Jolly Old Elf. Liam was so overawed that he slept through the entire event!

He even slept through Sheila's attempt to load him into Santa's sleigh!

I got to hold the young fellow during most of the rest of our visit (after conning Melany into letting me hold him--I feel guilty now!), and he was awake for much of that time, just looking around and taking in all the sights and sounds. I didn't feel his weight at all until I handed him back to Melany--and then the soreness and stiffness hit! But it's a good pain!

Here are Grandma and Grandpa Fleming holding Liam in Santa's Room at Kelly's (we weren't really as shell-shocked as we look here).

We had a delightful time, and look forward to many more visits with Liam (and other grandchildren?) to Kelly's Country Store!

Moments to Remember

It's been a week since I returned from my visit to Florida and my nephew Jonathan's high school graduation--and I'm still reliving that delightful time in my mind! So many wonderful memories an event like that brings to mind, and creates for the future! We remember our time in high school and our own Graduation Days, and realize what an exciting future lies ahead for one of us who, seemingly, just barely arrived in this world!

The Thursday evening I arrived in Jacksonville, Mom and Dad and I took a stroll along the pier in Jacksonville Beach. It was very relaxing to watch the vast ocean caressing the shore as the sun dipped low, and spy on the young couples--perhaps, just graduating themselves--walking arm in arm along the sand below.


Friday morning we attended a Mass for the graduates of Jonathan's school, Bishop Kenny High School. What a marvelous group of young people! I think it was a great blessing for Jonathan to be able to attend a school where personal and academic standards are high, but the demands are leavened with faith and the shared love of Christ. He owes so much to his parents' wisdom and sacrifices--and I'm sure he'd agree with me completely! Friday evening Mom, Dad and I met with Patti, Jason, and Jonathan for some great chicken wings at the Mudville Grille in Jacksonville.

The Big Event was on Saturday morning, with the graduation ceremony held in the arena at the University of North Florida. It was impressive and exciting, and so refreshing to see so many outstanding young people take their first step into a bright future. Even Jonathan's cousin Lena, who has just a few years to go before graduation, shared the experience with us!

Saturday evening we attended a delightful graduation party at the Sloans', with friends of Jonathan as well as many wonderful friends of Jason and Patti. I wish Melany and I lived closer so we could visit with them all more often!

On Sunday we attended early Mass with Patti and Jason at Assumption Church. Later, when Patti came by Mom and Dad's to take me back to her house, we were stopped in the road by a family of ducks trying to cross. "Dad" got to the other side, but "Mom" and "The Kids" were a little slower and decided to hang back until the traffic cleared!


At Patti's we lounged in and around the pool for most of the afternoon, reveling in each other's company. It was delightful to get into the pool and splash about--I hadn't done that in years! The conversation was full of good-natured fun and reminiscing, and dinner (Jason's famous sausages and hamburgers from the grill, plus Mom's Calico Beans and other delectables) was excellent!

On Monday Mom and Dad and I visited the Jacksonville Museum of Science and History (MOSH), where they had displayed some artifacts recovered from the sunken Civil War troop transport Maple Leaf. On our way we stopped at Patti's house to pick her up, and just what greeted our eyes when we arrived?

That's right, it was Jonathan pulling a prank on his parents, one he'd been cooking up for a long time! The new "do," though decidedly handsome, lasted only that day!

After MOSH, Patti and I made a brief visit to the nearby Jacksonville Maritime Museum, outside which Patti graciously posed for this wonderful picture with the downtown Jacksonville skyline in the background:

On Tuesday, I had a mercifully uneventful flight home. All the way back to Rochester, and ever since the trip, I've thought about how blessed I am to have the wonderful family that I do--stretching from Florida through Virginia and Pennsylvania to New York, and even out to Idaho--and what marvelous memories we've made together!

Speaking of memories, high school, graduation, and such, I thought I'd share with you a music video that captures that experience very well--the song is "Moments to Remember," recorded in 1955 (a very good year) by the Four Lads. Jonathan might not be able to relate to it so well, but I think a few of us older folks might. Thanks again for the memories!

High Flight

Many of you are probably too young to remember when television programming ceased at 1 o'clock in the morning (on some stations, midnight), and didn't resume till 6 a.m. or later. That was way back in the mid-1960s before cable television, when there were only three broadcast networks rather than hundreds of 24-hour channels, and programming was (or at least seemed to be) dominated by local stations and their markets. People who worked at TV stations in those days actually quit work at night and went home to bed! A few minutes before the screen and sound went to plain static, you'd see a short film clip of a Boy Scout or soldier lowering the flag while the Star Spangled Banner played in the background. And in many local areas, one more thing: a sonorous voice reading the beautiful poem High Flight, as a sleek fighter aircraft banked and soared through the clouds. The few times I saw this as a lad, having stayed up late babysitting when my parents were out or snuck back to the living room to watch TV after everyone else had gone to bed (OK, I confess), I was always awestruck by it.

I hadn't seen or thought about that in many, many years, until I stumbled upon a copy of the film clip on YouTube the other night while looking for something else. And it touch me deeply again. Just reading the poem is a moving experience:

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of—wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air....

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark nor even eagle flew—
And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

There is a sad, moving story behind the poem, too. It was written by John Gillespie Magee, Jr., who was born in Shanghai, China in 1922 to an American father and a British mother who worked as Anglican missionaries. His father came from a wealthy Pittsburgh family and his mother from Suffolk, England. John, Jr.'s early years were spent in China with his parents; from age 9 through 17 he attended school in England, graduating from the Rugby School in 1939. He earned a scholarship to Yale University—where his father was then a chaplain—in July 1940, but did not enroll, choosing instead to enlist in the Royal Canadian Air Force in October of that year, with England the the German Luftwaffe then being locked in the Battle of Britain. Shortly after being awarded his wings in June 1941 and being promoted to Pilot Officer, Magee was sent to Britain and to train on one of the most famous aircraft of WWII, the Supermarine Spitfire. It was while in that training that Magee wrote High Flight, while making his seventh flight in a Spitfire to an altitude of 33,000 feet. He completed the poem soon after landing and sent it home to his parents with a letter dated September 3rd, 1941.

Only three months later, while flying a Spitfire on a training mission, John was involved in a mid-air collision with another aircraft over the village of Roxholm, Lincolnshire, and died on impact with the ground. On his grave in England are inscribed the first and last lines from his poem: Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth -- Put out my hand and touched the Face of God. John had written several other beautiful poems during his brief military career, which he sent home to his parents.

Supermarine Spitfire

Today High Flight serves as the official poem of the Canadian Forces Air Command and the Royal Air Force, and it is required to be recited by memory by fourth class cadets (freshmen) at the United States Air Force Academy, where it is also depicted in its Field House. An excellent web site devoted to Magee and High Flight can be found here.

And now what you've all been waiting for: the High Flight film clip that closed the broadcasting day for television stations across America back in the 1960s! This film features the Lockheed F-104 Starfighter interceptor, one of the most beautiful aircraft ever produced (in my humble opinion), and one of my all-time favorites!



But wait--there's more! I didn't realize that later versions of High Flight were made with more advanced aircraft, also used at signoff until TV stations stopped signing off altogether. Here's one featuring another of my favorite aircraft, the Northrop F-5E/F Tiger -- simple and graceful!



Wouldn't it be wonderful if one could again watch television, go to the movies, or otherwise regularly see things in the media that acknowledged and honored God? These films, and the fact that they were once aired to all viewers every day as a matter of course, reflect a little bit of what our country used to be. And what of John Magee, Jr.? Do we still have young people like him who could fly a fast aircraft, defend our country, and write immortal poetry all at the same time? I'm sure there are more than a few, in our service academies and in the field. God bless and protect them, and bring forth their poetry in time to inspire the rest of us to soar as high as did Pilot Officer Magee.

Standing Together in 2010

Here's a New Year's treat for everyone: the marvelous old Ben E. King tune Stand by Me as performed by a host of the best artists from around the world--literally--that you never heard of, until now. If only all of humanity could be brought together for good, this simply and joyfully (it will be, in the Lord's good time). For now, let's just revel in the wonderful spirit that this performance inspires! HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Holiday Fun: Dominick the Donkey

So what do you post to your blog when you haven't had time to write anything in-depth or serious? Something silly, of course! And since it's the "holiday" season (I don't know if it's right to dignify silliness with the Lord's name), what better than a goofy novelty song? Not that execrable ditty about a fatal collision between a reindeer and a grandmother, but one that's really fun, and celebrates ethnicity in a gentle and rib-tickling way. I'm referring, of course, to Dominick the Italian Christmas Donkey, recorded in 1960 by the incomparable Lou Monte (who gave us such other unforgettable classics as Shaddap You Face and Who Stole My Provolone?). It's all about a donkey who helps Santa Claus bring presents to children in sunny Italy. Can you imagine a reindeer in Italy? Of course not--so there you go.

There are a number of videos that have been put to this song, but the one below is the most entertaining and authentically "Italian" of them, by far. I have no idea who these guys are, but they look like they had a blast making the video.

I had never heard this song until it came up on an ethnic radio show I happened to catch a couple of days before Christmas in 2008. I thought it was hilarious, but no one else I mentioned it to had ever heard of it, either (few of my friends and none of my family are Italian). So, in order to preserve this cultural treasure forever and for all non-Italian mankind, I hereby present you with Dominick the Italian Christmas Donkey (words--can something so unlyrical have "lyrics"?--are below the video).

Buon Natale!



Hey! Chingedy ching,
(hee-haw, hee-haw)
It's Dominick the donkey.
Chingedy ching,
(hee-haw, hee-haw)
The Italian Christmas donkey.
(la la la-la la-la la la la la)
(la la la-la la-la la-ee-oh-da)

Santa's got a little friend,
His name is Dominick.
The cutest little donkey,
You never see him kick.
When Santa visits his paisons,
With Dominick he'll be.
Because the reindeer cannot,
Climb the hills of Italy.

Hey! Chingedy ching,
(hee-haw, hee-haw)
It's Dominick the donkey.
Chingedy ching,
(hee-haw, hee-haw)
The Italian Christmas donkey.
(la la la-la la-la la la la la)
(la la la-la la-la la-ee-oh-da)

Jingle bells around his feet,
And presents on the sled.
Hey! Look at the mayor's derby,
On top of Dominick's head.
A pair of shoes for Louie,
And a dress for Josephine.
The labels on the inside says,
They're made in Brooklyn.

Hey! Chingedy ching,
(hee-haw, hee-haw)
It's Dominick the donkey.
Chingedy ching,
(hee-haw, hee-haw)
The Italian Christmas donkey.
(la la la-la la-la la la la la)
(la la la-la la-la la-ee-oh-da)

Children sing, and clap their hands,
And Dominick starts to dance.
They talk Italian to him,
And he even understands.
Cumpare sing,
Cumpare su,
And dance 'sta tarantel.
When jusamagora comes to town,
And brings du ciuccianello.

Hey! Chingedy ching,
(hee-haw, hee-haw)
It's Dominick the donkey.
Chingedy ching,
(hee-haw, hee-haw)
The Italian Christmas donkey.
(la la la-la la-la la la la la)
(la la la-la la-la la-ee-oh-da)

Hey! Dominick! Buon Natale!
(hee-haw, hee-haw)
(hee-haw, hee-haw)
(hee-haw, hee-haw)
(hee-haw, hee-haw)
(hee-haw, hee-haw)
(hee-haw, hee-haw)

Thanksgiving: We Gather Together

Here it is, Thanksgiving again--and here I am blogging about it again (my very first substantive post was about Thanksgiving)!

As a child, Thanksgiving was my second-favorite holiday, just behind Christmas (of course). First on the agenda, as it was every weekday that I wasn't in school, was Captain Kangaroo. That day's show always had a Thanksgiving theme, as you might expect. What was really memorable about it, though, was that at the end of the program the usual kids' set was replaced with a large dining table, which the cast would set, cover with traditional food, and then sit and PRAY (or at least pretend to pray) over--on national network television! (where was the FCC? where was the ACLU?) While that scene was unfolding, you'd hear a choir singing the beautiful hymn "We Gather Together" (more on that below). Ever after, whenever I hear that hymn, I think of the Captain and that moving scene, and it's become synonymous with Thanksgiving for me (and I'm not the only one who remembers this).

After that, it was several hours of televised Thanksgiving Day parades--Macy's from New York--with the big balloons!--the J.L. Hudson's Parade from Detroit, and the Santa Claus Parade from Toronto. On CBS you got some of all three, winding up with Santa at the end of the Toronto parade. For several years in the mid-1960s, Captain Kangaroo and crew hosted the Macy's Parade. And back then, they were real parades with marching bands and floats, instead of the static stage numbers and remote studio drivel you (not me, as I don't watch it any more) see today. Ah, for the good old days!

And then, in the afternoon, it was off to Grandma and Grandpa's for the Big Event--dinner! Not only our six with them, of course, but you had to add my uncles/aunts and their children, as well as Grandma's sisters and a cousin or two. So, you'd generally have anywhere from 18 to two dozen people there. With extra tables and chairs the "board" stretched all the way across the dining room and well into the living room! I don't think I graduated all the way to the "adult" table in the dining room until the last couple of Thanksgiving dinners there, in the mid-1970s. The turkey, stuffing, squash, and pies (that's a VERY abbreviated list) were always perfect! I can still smell it all in my mind's, ah, "nose."

<Here insert repeated-ad-nauseum story of how I dropped onto the sidewalk Mom's painstakingly-wrought layered jello dessert on our way into Grandma's house one year, while trying to hang onto a stack of books with the other hand.>

Grandma and Grandpa, and a few others of our wonderful old extended family, are passed on now. And we children and grandchildren are now scattered to widely to meet very often at holidays. But we all still gather together, here or from afar, in person or in our hearts, on Thanksgiving.

*****

Speaking of gathering, I wanted to share a little bit about that ultimate Thanksgiving hymn, We Gather Together. It has a rich and compelling history all its own, as related in this Wikipedia article:

We Gather Together is a Christian hymn of Netherlands origin written in 1597 by Adrianus Valerius (pka François Valéry) as Wilt Heden Nu Treden to celebrate the Dutch victory over Spanish forces in the Battle of Turnhout. It was originally set to a Dutch folk tune. In the United States, it is popularly associated with Thanksgiving Day and is often sung at family meals and at religious services on that day.

At the time the hymn was written, the Dutch were engaged in a war of national liberation against the Catholic King Philip II of Spain. "Wilt heden nu treden," "We gather together" resonated because under the Spanish King, Dutch Protestants were forbidden to gather for worship. The hymn first appeared in print in a 1626 collection of Dutch patriotic songs, "Nederlandtsch Gedencklanck."

The hymn is customarily performed to a tune known as "Kremser", from Eduard Kremser's 1877 score arrangement and lyric translation of Wilt Heden Nu Treden into Latin and German. The modern English text was written by Theodore Baker in 1894.

According to the Hymn Society in the United States and Canada, "We Gather Together's" first appearance in an American hymnal was in 1903. It had retained popularity among the Dutch, and when the Dutch Reformed Church in North America decided in 1937 to abandon the policy that they had brought with them to the New World in the 1600s of singing only psalms and add hymns to the church service, "We Gather Together" was chosen as the first hymn in the first hymnal.

The hymn steadily gained popularity, especially in services of Thanksgiving on such occasions as town and college centennial celebrations. According to Carl Daw, executive director of the Hymn Society, the "big break" came in 1935 when it was included in the national hymnal of the Methodist-Episcopal Church.

According to Michael Hawn, professor of sacred music at Southern Methodist University's Perkins School of Theology, "by World War I, we started to see ourselves in this hymn," and the popularity increased during World War II, when "the wicked oppressing" were understood to include Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan.

This hymn is generally sung at American churches the day before Thanksgiving.

This hymn was sung at the Opening of the Funeral Mass for Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis.

Here for your listening pleasure (the "video" is static, but this was the best choral performance I could find on YouTube) is "We Gather Together." The text appears below the video--and let's remember to recite in our prayers that last, stirring line, "O Lord, make us free!"



We gather together to ask the Lord’s blessing;
He chastens and hastens His will to make known.
The wicked oppressing now cease from distressing.
Sing praises to His Name; He forgets not His own.

Beside us to guide us, our God with us joining,
Ordaining, maintaining His kingdom divine;
So from the beginning the fight we were winning;
Thou, Lord, were at our side, all glory be Thine!

We all do extol Thee, Thou Leader triumphant,
And pray that Thou still our Defender will be.
Let Thy congregation escape tribulation;
Thy Name be ever praised! O Lord, make us free!

Nostalgia Time: Have Gun, Will Travel

Sometimes it's refreshing to turn from great themes and momentous events to things less weighty, yet more entertaining. One of my favorite pastimes is collecting and sharing nostalgia--anything that helps me relive the glorious days of childhood, when every day was full of discovery and devoid of the cares that burden us as we grow older.

My parents would wax nostalgiac about classic radio programs and Saturday afternoon serials at the movie theater. But those things predated me and my generation. We look back on, among other things, the early years of television. And one of the best things on the tube back in the late 50s and early 60s was the western series Have Gun, Will Travel, starring Richard Boone as the soldier of fortune "Paladin." His trademark was a chess knight, emblazoned on his holster and on his "business" card, along with the slogan, "Have Gun, Will Travel."

The web site TV.com provides a good summary of Paladin's character:

Paladin was not your normal gunfighter. He was an educated and a traveled man. A West Point graduate, he served as a Union officer during the Civil War. After the war, he went west and became a high-priced 'gun for hire.' He was based at the Hotel Carlton in San Francisco and enjoyed the finer things in life. He dressed in fancy clothes, enjoyed fine wine, gourmet food, opera, expensive cigars and he could play the piano. When working, he dressed completely in black including a black hat with a band of silver conchos and a custom holster with a silver chess knight on it. He carried a custom made pistol which was perfectly balanced and had a rifled barrel. He preferred to settle problems without violence whenever possible, but if forced to fight, he excelled.

A Wikipedia article about the show also notes that Paladin "had a thorough knowledge of ancient history and classical literature, and he exhibited a strong passion for legal principles and the rule of law."

I like to think I have some of those things in common with Paladin, although of course I don't have his cojones. Our society would be in much better shape if we had a few more people around like him--cultured and thoughtful, but willing to fight for what's right, when necessary, and win. Those qualities are exceedingly rare among our "leaders" right now, but I think there are hosts of otherwise "ordinary" people who exhibit them. They'll be our salvation by and by.

Amazingly, you can watch all 34 full-lenghth, uninterrupted episodes from the show's first season here. It's great fun!

The character of Paladin is perfectly captured in the magnificent song "Ballad of Paladin," sung by by Johnny Western (something tells me that wasn't his real name). They sure don't make 'em like that any more!

When the Frost is on the Punkin

Yep, it's that time of year! Crisp, spicy air; expanses of red and gold leaves everywhere; Indian corn, squash, and pumpkins abounding; the pungent aroma and sweet taste of apple cider. Even the sun shines occasionally here in western New York! Nothing better captures the sights, sounds, and spirit of the fall season than the poem When the Frost is on the Punkin by American folk poet James Whitcomb Riley (1849-1912). So, to brighten your day, here's the next best thing to visiting a farm in harvest!

WHEN the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock,
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock,
And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens,
And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;
O, it's then's the times a feller is a-feelin' at his best,
With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,
As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

They's something kindo' harty-like about the atmusfere
When the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is here--
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees,
And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the bees;
But the air's so appetizin'; and the landscape through the haze
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days
Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock--
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,
And the raspin' of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn;
The stubble in the furries--kindo' lonesome-like, but still
A-preachin' sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill;
The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;
The hosses in theyr stalls below--the clover over-head!--
O, it sets my hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock!

Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps
Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps;
And your cider-makin' 's over, and your wimmern-folks is through
With their mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and saussage, too! ...
I don't know how to tell it--but ef sich a thing could be
As the Angels wantin' boardin', and they'd call around on me--
I'd want to 'commodate 'em--all the whole-indurin' flock--
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock!

Autumn in New York

One of the finest things about living in upstate New York (I know you were thinking, "I didn't imagine there were any.") is Autumn--or Fall, if you prefer. If you ask people who live around here what their favorite season is, this will be the answer 8 of 10 times. In many ways it's mine, too, except for the knowledge that Autumn--which is all too brief here, functionally running from mid-September to about mid-November, when the snowflakes usually start falling--is inevitably followed by interminable Winter. So, one feels a need to savor the season and wring from it every last particle of Fall-ness, before the brilliant colors and that spicy nip in the air turn suddenly to gray-brown and just plain icy. There are a host of ways to do that around here, from the Oktoberfest in Irondequoit that begins in mid-September (you read that right; no one knows why it isn't "Septemberfest") through umpteen fall/apple/pumpkin festivals, corn mazes, and cider presses, to the haunted/scary houses that abound locally around Halloween (we scrupulously avoid those--too scary).

This past Saturday Melany and I kicked off our observance of "Autumn in New York 2009" by attending the annual AppleUmpkin Festival in Wyoming, New York. That's a small village in the hill country southwest of Rochester, about a 45-minute drive from our home in Brockport. The trip itself is breathtaking this time of year, and yields vistas like the one below.

"Downtown" Wyoming (only 513 people live the whole community) is well known as "Gaslight Village," a quaint area lit by old-fashioned gas street lamps that are fueled by deposits of natural gas directly underground. The one-weekend festival attracts thousands of visitors to the hosts of craft, food, and other vendors whose booths crowd the main street and nearby fields, as well as to the local shops. Some of the vendors' booths are quite cleverly named!

Needless to say, there are apples and pumpkins in profusion--hence the name "AppleUmpkin."

Also noteworthy in the area are lovely gingerbread houses,


stately inns,

and churches dating from the early and mid-19th century.

We spent most of our time in Wyoming just strolling around, watching the other festival goers (there were almost as many dogs being pushed in strollers as babies!), and poking our heads into booths now and then. The one thought that occurred to me again and again: how blessed we all are to live in America! Where else could so many different people from so many places congregate peacefully and happily with their families and friends, in such a beautiful spot, just to enjoy their little corner of life and to share that fleeting magic time we call Autumn?

We did pick up several books for a dollar each at the local public library's used book booth (two history books for me--natch, and some craft and gardening books for Melany). I resisted the temptation to shell out $8.50 for a grape pie (the signature confection of the Finger Lakes region this time of year), which left us just enough cash to buy a beautiful fall garland for hanging in the dining room. All tuckered out, we headed back home through the countryside once again. A perfect Autumn excursion!

We hope to sally forth for more Fall adventures in the coming month, and we'll share them with you if and when we do. Till then, here's the "other" Autumn in New York--Vernon Duke’s marvelous jazz composition written for the 1934 show Thumbs Up! This version is by the incomparable Billie Holiday. I acknowledge that Lady Day (as she was called) is an acquired taste, but if you listen to her enough, you'll come to appreciate that her voice and singing style were tailor-made for jazz. Besides, this was the only rendition I could find paired with a good video of seasonal scenes in the Empire State! So sit back and enjoy all the facets of Autumn in New York!

I Like My Bike!

After failing to persuade one of our college-student boys to use the second-hand bicycle we had bought him through craigslist, Melany was struck with the idea of getting a bike for herself. She hadn't ridden one in many years, but I thought it was a capital idea. I'd been trying to get her to go out riding with me for as long as I could remember, but I think the idea never came to fruition because of other commitments, lack of opportunity, and perhaps under-confidence on Melany's part. I was thrilled when she found one she liked --we drove into Rochester together to pick it up--and since that mid-August day, we've been going out a couple of times a week to ride along the Erie Canal towpath (which runs by just a few hundred feet from our house), or around the village of Brockport.

I love to feel the breeze on my face as I ride along, and the rest of me appreciates the workout--I'm always more relaxed and sleep better afterwards. And having my sweet spouse along for company makes it seem like a little romantic adventure!

My mount is very special--a single-speed, coaster-brake, Schwinn American that I bought with money I received at my First Communion party back in 1963. That's right--I'm 54, and my bike is 46! I've never owned any other bike. Why should I? It runs as well today as it did the day I brought it home--better in fact, as I wasn't quite big enough to actually ride it then, and had to wait most of the next year before I had grown enough and could start learning. This sweetheart is as solid as a tank, has no extra gears, hand brakes or cables to get fouled up, and gathers very little rust, which I clean off along with the winter's dust every spring. It's surprisingly easy to pedal when the tires are fully inflated. The kids made fun of it for years because its various little creaks and squeaks made me audible for some distance as I approached or rode away. Well, I finally fixed that--WD-40 in a few strategic places, and now she's quiet too! True, the fenders and frame have some dents and scratches from several senseless acts of vandalism when I had the bike with me in college and at our second apartment in Chattanooga. Her original brilliant red paint is now a faded coppery color. The handgrips are more brownish than the snow white they started as (and, of course, are devoid of the multi-colored plastic streamers that I removed for maleness' sake soon after the bike came home) . Thousands of miles under my butt have worn down the once nicely-padded seat to a thin layer of vinyl over the coils. But I've never replaced anything on the bike except tires and once, after a nasty fall, the rear rim. And all I've added are a rear carrier and a bell.

I can't begin to number the miles my bike has carried me--in a pack with my brothers and pals in the mid-60s around Grand Island, NY; between home and the Little League ball fields, the public library, and several summer jobs; around campus at Michigan State University; between my apartment and work (for several months) in Chattanooga; and through our various neighborhoods with the kids to playgrounds, the library, and school. Her history is a cherished part of my own half-century-plus, and connects me with the "golden age" of the 60s in America before drugs, politics, and war spoiled the end of that decade--the age of baseball cards, transistor radios, grape Nehi, scouting and Boys' Life, the Beach Boys and Herman's Hermits, Corvettes and Camaros. Who from that era would want to discard something that went through it with him, and made it possible for him to live those days to the hilt?

I'm afraid that when I pass on, they'll have to inter my bike with me. I don't know how I'll do without her on the other side.

Fourth of July on the Eighth of May!

So I'm sitting here at the computer about 9:30 this evening, balancing my checking account, when the air outside is suddenly split by two tremendous explosions! It took me a few moments to realize that they weren't from bombs or an industrial accident, but probably fireworks--and then, after a couple of more, smaller bursts, it dawned on me: tomorrow is Graduation Day at the SUNY College at Brockport just half a mile down the street! I dashed out into the backyard and stood there in the darkness, with one of the longest and best fireworks displays I've ever seen igniting the sky right above the trees fringing our property! The finale was unforgettable!

I LOVE fireworks, the more and bigger the better! I've loved them ever since my childhood, when Mom and Dad packed us four kids into our pajamas and then into the car, every Independence Day evening, and drove out to East River Road on Grand Island, NY, where we (and everyone else on the Island) would sit on the bank, munching popcorn that we brought in big paper shopping bags, and watched a tremendous fireworks display shot over the Niagara River. I've relived those wonderful times every Fourth of July, when the Town of Sweden puts on an excellent show above an open field a couple of miles from here.

But in recent years, the College has put on an even bigger, better show every Homecoming Weekend in the fall. Now, maybe they've added Graduation Day to the tradition. How blessed can a kid-at-heart be than to see big-time fireworks three times a year, with two of the shows right over top of his own backyard?! God Bless America!