Category Archives: Community Events

Strike Talk

Last fall I was in a readers’ theatre play called Strike Story, written by Little Falls, NY, resident Angela Harris. It told the story of the 1912 strike by Little Falls textile workers. Last Thursday Harris gave a lecture on the history of the strike at the Herkimer County Historical Society.

I had learned a lot about the strike by being in the play. However, I was sure there was more to learn. I was certain I had forgotten a lot from the play as well.

A small but interested crowd had gathered at 406 N. Main St. in Herkimer. Steven and I greeted some friends and found seats. A slide show accompanied the talk, showing many photographs of the period.

I guess I’d better not try to re-tell the whole talk as Harris gave it. For one thing, I would probably get some stuff wrong and embarrass myself. I would like to give a few highlights, however.

As in the play, Harris started her story before the workers actually walked off the job and the strike began. Little Falls was a manufacturing hub that was growing too fast for its own good. Soon Little Falls could beat New York City for bad tenements.

The people in the tenements were not complaining, but some attention was being paid. The Fortnightly Club, a group of civic-minded ladies further up the economic ladder, hired a contagion nurse to try to address the growing epidemic of tuberculosis. That was my part in the play.

Harris also talked about the Bread and Roses Strike in Lawrence, MA, which was remembered for its violence. That strike came before the one in Little Falls, and some of the Little Falls organizers tried to do some of the same things those strikers did.

Another new thing I learned was that there were Shoddy Mills, which got the cast offs from the other mills. That was where we get the term “shoddy workmanship.” I always like to hear about word origins.

We really enjoyed the talk. I asked Angela if she was writing any more plays. I should have asked if she intended to write a book about the strike. I’d buy that book. Maybe she could have a book signing at the Historical Society.

Jail Visit

I left the Herkimer County Historical Society and went to the opposite of the Historic Four Corners, the 1834 Jail. The Jail is not open for tours on a regular basis, so one must seize the opportunity when it is available.

I joined a tour already in progress, but I had not missed much. Jim Greiner was the guide. He wrote the book Last Woman Hanged: Roxalana Druse, about one of the Jail’s most famous inmates. I’ve read the book and heard Greiner speak about it. It’s an excellent book, and he is a dynamic speaker. He is an entertaining tour guide as well, knowledgeable and enthusiastic.

I toured the Jail last year on Museum Day (and wrote a blog post about it). There was not a huge difference in restoration from last year, although the Friends of the 1834 Jail have accomplished a lot since the time they started. Money, as always, is the problem. They are not eligible for many grants, because the Jail can never be fully handicap accessible.

I enjoyed seeing once again the cell which held Chester Gilette, the Jail’s other famous inmate. I was once again sorry we could not go up to the third floor, where Roxalana Druse was housed.

Everybody on the tour seemed to enjoy it as much as I did. One fellow mentioned a murderer from the 1960s who had probably stayed in the Jail. Apparently the guy shot a girl in the Frankfort Police Station. I hope somebody writes a book about that one, if nobody has already. I highly recommended Last Woman Hanged to a lady, but I did not see whether she purchased it.

I don’t know when the 1834 Jail will hold another event, but I certainly intend to watch for it. I may even join Friends of the 1834 Jail and try to help them raise funds. Maybe eventually I’ll get a look at that mysterious third floor.

Surrounded by History

The Herkimer County Historical Society held an Open House on Saturday in honor of Museum Day in New York State. I remember attending their open house last year (I believe I wrote a blog post about it). I was delighted at the chance to repeat the experience.

The museum is about a ten minute walk from my house, but my husband, Steven, was able to drop me off on North Main Street on his way back to work (he had an early lunch). When I walked in the front door a tour was in progress. I felt like wandering, so I sneaked upstairs.

I had seen the display of dollhouses before, but, goodness, that was a year ago. These things are often worth a second viewing. I also looked once again at the portraits on the wall, making special note of Margaret Tugor, a local educator of note. I would love to write a biography of Tugor, if only I had any idea how to research such a thing.

Back downstairs the tour had reached the Remington typewriter. I have a minor collection of typewriters myself, but nothing truly antique. I wandered over to the gift shop. I didn’t see any post cards I haven’t purchased previously, and I didn’t see anything good for a Father’s Day gift (for my father at least; I’m sure there were many things of interest to other fathers).

The third floor was open in honor of the day. This is where they house items not currently on display as well as archives. I walked along shelves of books and collections of papers. I felt surrounded by history. Some volunteers were around, but I did not have any questions.

I did chat up a volunteer and another patron about a bicycle on the second floor. It was one with the giant front wheel and tiny back wheel. A card said somebody local had ridden it all the way to the west coast. We marveled at the feat. Not only no chain and no gears on the bike. No highways. No Motel 6 or KOA Kampgrounds. What an adventure!

As always I enjoyed my visit to the museum. Wherever I’ve lived, I’ve always enjoyed checking out local history. I continued my Museum Day wanderings across the street (kitty corner, actually) at the 1834 Jail. That will form the topic of tomorrow’s post (barring accident). Stay tuned!

Hair Today

Well, today is the day. This afternoon, I get shaved as part of a St. Baldrick’s Day event to raise money for children’s cancer research. I begged for donations and got quite a few. Now I’d like to take a few words to honor my hair while it’s still on my head.

I have almost always disliked my hair. That’s pretty typical, I think. Most of us wish we looked different from what we do. People with curly hair want straight and vice versa. Tall people long to be petite, while us shorties envy the statuesque. Oh dear, now I’m getting into half-baked philosophy and it isn’t Lame Post Friday. I’ll stop now.

As a child I had blond hair, very straight. I remember once when my hair was freshly washed and dry, my mother said, “Cindy has hair like an angel.” My dad replied, “Too bad she doesn’t have disposition to match.” The sad thing was, even my hair was not angelic on a regular basis, but let’s not continue with that memory.

In the ’80s (the 1980s, wise guy) (you know who you are), I discovered the miracle of permanents. I went curly. Recently a high school friend posted an old yearbook picture on Facebook. Look at all that hair! I’m a little sorry I don’t know how to add the picture here, but only a little. Why would I want to remind everybody that I used to be much skinnier and cuter than I am now?

I think my favorite way to wear my hair is short and spiky, which look I rocked from the late ’90s till about a year ago. For the past 10 months or so I’ve been growing it out in anticipation of the shave. I’m quite excited to finally have it done.

If anybody wants to make a last minute contribution in honor of my bald pate, here once again is my participant website: http://www.stbaldricks.org/participants/mypage/642777/2013.

I Love a Parade

I may have used that headline before.

One reason we were happy Steven had Monday off was that we could attend the Herkimer, NY Memorial Day Parade. We went last year and enjoyed it very much. I do love a parade.

The parade was at one. I spent a short time doing yard work then the rest of the morning trying to get over my latest bout of lightheadedness (allergies? the last bit of my stomach bug? Who knows). I was feeling OK by 12:45 and we set out.

The parade was to end at Meyers Park, a mere ten minute walk from our house. That was where we caught it last year. It was a beautiful day, sunny and bright. Perhaps not as warm as one might like on Memorial Day (depending on who one is), but I thought it good parade weather.

We could hear the band warming up in the pavilion. The parade was to be followed by a ceremony in the park, but we did not plan to stay for that. For one thing, I had neglected to bring a bottle of water and I was thirsty.

At first we stood under the same tree we had stood under last year. The shade had been much appreciated then. This year not so much. Eventually we moved down to a sunny spot on Park Avenue.

A lot of people and a few dogs (including ours) had turned out to watch the parade. We especially admired a Great Dane-looking hound in a yard across the street. He was big.

At last the parade started. The American Legion and the Elks were represented, as were Herkimer Now and the Girl Scouts. Herkimer County Community College’s mascot, the General was there.

“We took a picture of him last year,” Steven remembered. I waved at him and got the two finger point in return.

My favorite part was the classic cars, most notably a Cadillac convertible. It was long and white and I said, “It’s not just sweet; it’s suh-weet.” My other favorite was a group of young men playing drums.

“Dig that rhythm section,” I said, quite unable to keep myself from dancing a little.

The parade was short but very fun. I love hometown stuff like that. Perhaps they’ll do another parade for the Herkimer Days later this summer. And there’s always Ilion’s Doodah Parade. All kinds of stuff to look forward to.

About the Bald

Just a brief update on my soon to be bald head, and my ongoing efforts to make it more about children’s cancer research and less about me getting a haircut.

Oh, who am I kidding, this is a personal blog. It’s about me getting a haircut. I don’t really know much about what’s being done in the field of cancer research. I haven’t even read in great detail the links of “where the money goes” on the St. Baldrick’s Day website. I’m just trusting that it is a nationally known organization and they know what they’re doing.

People have been very generous. I’ve had contributions through the website as well as checks and cash given to me. No donation too small! Actually they’ve ranged from two to fifty dollars, although I’ve still never gotten over that uncomfortable feeling that I don’t like to ask people for money.

Yesterday at work, a young man hollered at me as he went by, “Eight more days!” He’s practically bald himself right now, but he’s thinking of growing his hair out just to get it shaved for St. Baldrick’s. Isn’t that delightful? I’ve inspired the younger generation (or do I flatter myself?).

In the meantime, I’m also feeling a little bit guilty about how much I’m looking forward to the shave. My hair is driving me crazy! The longer it gets, the harder it is to manage. I can’t wear it down and it won’t stay up. As it gets hotter, a ponytail isn’t good enough; I want it off my neck. All those little wispy things around my face make me want to SCREAM!

So I guess I am not a very good cancer research fundraiser. I don’t like asking people for money, and I want my head shaved for my own petty comfort and convenience. When you look at it that way, I’m a pretty low creature. Nevertheless, if any of you lovely blog readers would like to make a donation to fight children’s cancer, here is a website: http://www.stbaldricks.org/participants/mypage/642777/2013.

I’m still wondering how I can post a picture of the bald me after June 2.

Books and Blooms

On Saturday Steven only worked till two, so we were both able to check out the Books and Blooms fundraiser at the Herkimer County Humane Society. Knowing we would encounter dog lovers there, we took our schnoodle Tabby.

The first things we saw were some lovely hanging baskets, but I was more interested in another perennial. Two years ago I had purchased a Black-eyed Susan at the Humane Society. It has been blooming ever since. Of course I love my container garden, but how delightful it is to have things come up every year.

A nice lady told us all about the various plants they had: what needed more sunlight, what did well in partial shade. We debated a little, but then I wanted to pick out books before I decided which bloom.

You know me and books. It didn’t take long for me to gather an armful. Then I picked the plant I liked best. Its name escapes me as I write this, but I’ll be able to check before I type it into the computer. It wasn’t one I was familiar with, and it wasn’t in bloom so that will be a nice surprise for me when it does.

Steven and I are always happy to support the Humane Society. When it also enhances my garden and my library, what’s not to like? For more information on the Herkimer County Humane Society, you can visit their website at http://www.herkhumane.org/ or you can like them on Facebook. They post lots of cool animal pictures.

NOTE: The plant I purchased was Coreopsis Route 66. I know I only could have edited the above paragraph to include that, but I thought it was kind of funny that I couldn’t remember what I bought.

“Dirty Work” for a Good Cause

I would like to use today’s post to give a brief shout-out to Habitat for Humanity

Habitat bills itself as a hand up not a hand out. They build homes for deserving, needy families. The families work on the homes as well.

I first encountered the group up north, many years ago when I was in Kiwanis. A member of a neighboring Kiwanis Club also worked with Habitat and saw first hand what a different it makes in the lives of recipients.

At the request of another friend, I participated in a Raquette Valley Habitat for Humanity fundraiser. All I had to do was go bowling. The money I paid to bowl went to Habitat. I know with these bowl-a-thons (not that we bowled that many games), participants usually go around and get people to sponsor them per pin. With my bowling average (if you can call it an average as seldom as I bowl), that could hardly have raised much. Also, my circle of acquaintance at the time was very limited. Anybody I could have asked had probably already been asked or was bowling themselves.

The other knowledge I have of Habitat is that there is a Habitat home near a relative I see one or two times a year. The home has been there for a number of years now and looks just as beautiful as when it was brand new. I see real pride of ownership in such a well kept property.

I write about Habitat for Humanity, because last night they held a fundraiser in conjunction with Ilion Little Theatre (ILT). We put on our play Dirty Work at the Crossroads. They paid our group a set amount to cover our royalties and expenses, then sold tickets to their supporters.

It is a definite win/win situation. Win for ILT because those Habitat people are the BEST audience! They are ready to be pleased. They laughed at all the jokes. They applauded long and loud at the end. They all told us how much they enjoyed the show.

I may try to get more involved with Habitat for Humanity. I think that would be a very good project for Mohawk Valley Girl.

Bald-Faced Begging

I believe I mentioned my intention to shave my head at a St. Baldrick’s Day event June 2 in Richfield Springs, NY. I thought I’d better start doing something about raising some money for it, or else it might look as if I was just trying to sleaze a free haircut.

I’ve gotten a few donations on my donor web page through StBaldricks.org. I shared it on Facebook, and friends and family helped. Next I decided to hit up some of my work buddies and acquaintances. Armed with my donation envelope the St. Baldrick’s people had sent me, I steeled myself to beg.

In an earlier post I talked about how I HATE asking people for money. I must say, I hate it even more than I remember hating it. It’s not the sort of thing that once I start doing it I feel better about it and keep going. I find that it is just as embarrassing as I had feared it would be and feel even more hesitant to approach the next person.

It isn’t that people are rude. Most people are very nice. It turns out, though, that Monday was the wrong day to pick to start. See, payday at my workplace is Thursday. By Monday most people are broke. My main problem now is to determine when “Ask me again on payday” means just that and when it means “I don’t want to give you any money but don’t feel I can just say no.”

Some people reached into their pockets and gave me a couple of bucks. Others caught me later and handed me a donation. One fellow reminded me to ask him again Friday morning.

In short, I am slowly gaining enough donations so I won’t look foolish in front of the other bald people on June 2. If any of you lovely readers would like to help the cause (um, the cause is actually children’s cancer research, not Cindy not being embarrassed), here is a link to my donor page: http://www.stbaldricks.org/participants/mypage/642777/2013. Perhaps by the time I’m actually bald, I will have learned how to post a picture. Stay tuned!

The Boxy Purse

One of my stops on Saturday was a rummage sale at Christ Episcopal Church in Herkimer, NY. This is where I go to when I attend church, so I knew the ladies working. It’s always a pleasure to do business with friends.

I was ostensibly looking for one or two more items needed for the play we’re doing, but I got kind of absorbed in looking at the books. I found a few I wouldn’t mind reading.

My other purchase was an extremely silly one: a purse shaped like a box. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with buying an unusual purse, especially as I have a minor collection. But I laughed at my reason.

You see, many years ago, when the Seaway Valley Footlighters, our community theatre group up north, did Harvey, one actress was searching high and low for a “boxy” purse, such as the one carried by Grace Kelly in Rear Window. It was not really a big deal, and the character made do with the purse we found. Still, all involved agreed that a boxy purse would have been ideal.

“So what?” you might say. “Maybe you’ll do Harvey again sometime. Now you have the boxy purse.”

In fact, Ilion Little Theatre did do Harvey last year (I believe I may have written a blog post or two about it). Now that I think about it, I don’t believe the term “boxy purse” ever arose. The character in question certainly did not carry one.

Well, I suppose one never knows when an unusual purse might come in handy. Besides, it was dollar a bag day. I helped the rummage sale ladies get rid of some stuff.