Mrs. Q Goes to Herkimer

A friend suggested I write a about how I came to the area. I seem to recall referring to that as a long story, not very interesting, but let’s see if I can make is short and amusing.

The year was 2003 (oh dear, that is a long time ago!) and I was on terminal leave from the army, staying at my parents’ house in Rome, NY. Now I have not been unemployed since I left college in 1987, so I went right down to Working Solutions to see what I could find. One job opening was in Herkimer.

“Where’s Herkimer?” I asked my Mom. I had heard of Herkimer. Other classes in my elementary school had gone to the Diamond Mines for field trips.

Herkimer, it turned out, was my kind of town. Steven remarked that it was reminiscent of Potsdam in its heyday. By Potsdam’s heyday, of course, he meant Potsdam when he was a college student there in the ’70s. Or perhaps when we were newlyweds there in the ’90s. Anyways, a fun little college town, with a lot to offer not just to college students.

Here’s where I’ll make the long story short. I took the job in Herkimer. Steven found a job in Herkimer. We took an apartment in a farmhouse on Rt. 5 in Schuyler below the Frankfort Bridge. Eventually we bought a house in Herkimer.

I really like Herkimer. For the most part people are friendly. Just this morning I ran up to Herkimer County Community College and encountered two nice people with nice dogs. I only got to pet one, but that was OK. There is a lot of green, lots of trees and nice lawns to run by. I take notes of what other people are doing with flowers and steal their ideas. I’ve mentioned before what a good walking/running village it is, and that is something I appreciate almost every day.

Herkimer is also an active place with lots of community events. This afternoon we plan to check out the St. Anthony’s Festival at his Church and a fundraiser at Silverado’s. I’m happy to look back and see that I have been a Herkimer resident for almost six years. Does that mean I can count as a Local?

One response »

  1. Tracy L. Robertson's avatar Tracy L. Robertson

    I think it takes at least a generation of living anywhere to be a local. (Maybe 20 years)

    Then, only the people who have been there the same amount of time think you are a local. One of the indicators is when you meet newcomers to the area and can say, “Oh, you live in the old Smith (or Jones, or VanDeusen….) place!” Or “Remember when that (location) was the Such and Such Diner?” and it’s been closed for 20ish years!

    Good luck, you’re getting there! We’ll have been here for 13 years in August! That’s a year longer than Norwood… who woulda thought?

    Reply

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