Category Archives: personal

Another Visit to the Historical Society

Last Saturday I got to introduce some friends to a couple of my favorite places, the Herkimer County Historical Society and the 1834 Jail in Herkimer, NY.  I know I have mentioned  both places before, but I think they rate numerous shout-outs.

My sister Cheryl and some friends had long been interested in visiting the jail, which is not open for tours on a regular basis. I suggested we watch for when the Historical Society holds its Open House in June, because the jail has been open that day at least for the last couple of years, when I have made it to the Open House.

We arrived at the Jail, on Herkimer’s Historic Four Corners on Main and Church streets,shortly after eleven, only to find out that the tours did not start as early as we had thought.  I suggested we check out the Historical Society, which is right across the way.

Of course I had to show off my knowledge and explain that the house had belonged to Dr. A Walter Suiter, although he had only used it for his office. Dr. Suiter provided medical testimony for two of Herkimer County’s most famous murder trials, of Chester Gilette and Roxalana Druse.

As we walked into the Queen Anne style brick mansion, we saw a display about the Gilette  case. We talked about the case and about how Hollywood did not get it right in A Place in the Sun (although that is a highly entertaining movie). I said that Chester Gilette was a player. I’ve read several books about the case.

As we walked around downstairs I pointed out the ornate Remington typewriter. I have a less fancy Remington typewriter myself.. We all admired the doctor’s study with its built-in bookcases and large fireplace. The woodwork throughout the house is beautiful.

Upstairs we noted the old bicycle with the huge front and tiny rear wheels. We marveled over the fact that a man rode it right across the country.

“And that was in the days before highways and Motel 6,” I said.

We also enjoyed looking at the dollhouses and the portraits of local people of note. I pointed out Margaret Tugor, because Cheryl had noticed a picture of the South Side School in a display about immigrants downstairs. Miss Tugor had been principal of that school, which was later named after her.

The third floor, which is not open on a regular basis, holds many artifacts and archives. We especially noted many typewriters, some chairs in need of repair, and a rather delightful baby carriage.

I suggested we go down the back staircase from the second back to the first floor, and that was another experience. The stairs are steep, narrow and curved. I think it is good to know what the servants put up with back in the day.

In the gift shop, I chatted up Caryl Hopson about the play Roxy, which the society is presenting at Ilion Little Theatre (I’ll be writing a lot about that as time goes on). I also ate a couple of cookies, which were from the Heidelberg Bakery. Who could resist?

Caryl suggested we walk a couple of doors down, where another archaeological dig was going on. I had pointed out in the society’s yard where a dig had been going on last year. A glass case in the gift shop displayed many of the artifacts that had been found. Included are a surprising number of intact glass pharmaceutical bottles.

At this year’s dig, a guy was down a well on a safety harness, sending up buckets of dirt and stones. Four people were sifting through them. They explained that they were hoping to find the exact location of Fort Dayton. The house they were digging behind belongs to a member of the Historical Society. She invited them to dig in her back yard, because she knew it was a likely spot.

Making our way back to Main Street, we saw people in front of the jail. We discovered that they were waiting for Jim Greiner to come give the tours. I was pleased to hear that. Greiner wrote the book Last Woman Hanged: Roxalana Druse. He is very knowledgeable about the jail and local history. I’ve taken the jail tour with him and enjoyed it very much.

While we waited we were allowed into the basement and on the first floor. I shared a few of the things I remembered. The lady who let us in told us more, particularly about a house-shaped clock made by a prisoner out of cigar boxes.

I left when Jim arrived, because I did not have time to take the tour. After the jail, my sister and friends were off to Utica to tour the Rutgers Mansions. That’s something I’d love to do next time.

 

Better Luck Next Tired

Full disclosure:  I did not intend to do a running commentary today.  I wrote a blog post while on breaks at work.  Unfortunately, it is too long for me to type in tonight.  Give me a break, it’s Tired Tuesday!  Could it be I am tired because I ran?  No!  I was tired to begin with.  I invite you to read on…

I spent the last couple of  hours at work telling myself that it was a VERY GOOD IDEA that I go running.  Actually, I was thinking things like, “I must, I positively must run”  and “I have to run tonight, I HAVE to.”  I re-phrased it to “very good idea” in order to short circuit my naturally rebellious nature.  Still, when it poured rain for a short time, I had a moment of hope that I would be off the hook. Only a moment, though.  In the first place, I figured it would stop raining.  In the second place, I have a mini-tramp on which I can run in place during inclement weather.

The rain stopped after a very short time.  It was sunny and breezy by the time I headed home.  Steven was already there.

“A  twenty minute  run will be sufficient for my purposes today,” I said.  I had hopes that I would run for longer once I got going, but it is difficult to predict these things.

To begin with the run was not much fun.  The sun was hot, I knew that going in.  The cooling breeze blew up into a strong wind that was dead against me.  What was that all about? Never mind, I told myself.  It will just take me longer to get from point A to point B. I wondered if it was going to rain again.  It seemed there was not a cloud in the sky, except for a few fluffy, harmless-looking white puffs. No sudden storm was going to let me off the hook ten minutes in.  That was all right too.  Just keep going.

I had a vague thought to run up the hill to Herkimer College.  I wondered if I would make it.  I have previously stated that once I start up a hill it is almost a foregone conclusion that I will make it to the top.  The question was, would I start?  I  turned at Lou Ambers Drive.  I considered stopping at the spring for a quick sip, but it wasn’t that long  into the run.  Besides, I had been drinking water all day.  Surely I was hydrated (I’ll call you Shirley if I feel like it).

The road has a bit of an upslope, then goes level, then goes steeply up, around a curve and up some more.  I was still on the gentle upslope when the wind against me got even stronger.  It cost a great effort to move even at my middle-aged shuffle.  I decided I would NOT go all the way up the hill.  After all, I did not intend to write a blog post about the run.  I would not have to embarrassedly confess to my readers that I started up a hill and turned off.  I would turn off into the residential area (which I like to call the suburbs) and perhaps run a hill or two there.

The  wind got stronger yet.  I was not all the way up the upslope when I said, “To Hell with this!” and turned around.  The wind almost immediately died down rather than give me a nice push. I have to wonder about that.  Was it all psychological? Or maybe a ghost?  I ask these questions now as I write this. At the time I merely felt a grim  satisfaction at having said, “To hell with it.”

I went through the parking lot of Salvatore’s, because there was some nice shade. I spent a good part of the rest of the run looking at my watch to make sure I at least ran twenty minutes.   It looked as if I would just make it. My body was not feeling any happier with me. I knew I could keep going, but it was not going to get fun.  I thought, “If I’m not into it by now, I am not going to be into it today.”

When I got back to my street, my run unexpectedly lengthened. I had crossed the street, which put me on the same side as a little dog.  I  did not want to disturb the dog, so I continued down the  block and ran up the street parallel to mine.  I felt vaguely pleased with myself over this.  The run still wasn’t fun, but I knew I could keep going.  Many of us, I reflected, can keep going for longer than we think  we can.

I ended up running for 28 minutes.  It would have been nice to make it at least a half hour, but I felt happy that I had gone over my self-mandated twenty.  As I walked my cool-down, I complimented some neighbors on a beautiful new porch they are putting up.  They said thank you. Perhaps now I can go  sit on my own perfectly attractive old porch.   Like I said, I’m tired.

 

A Walk Without a Dog

This evening Steven and I took our first walk together since we lost our beloved schnoodle, Tabby.  I love to take walks.  I took many walks before I ever got a dog and knew I would take walks after I lost her.  In fact I have taken cool-down walks after runs and walked to the Historic Four Corners for historical adventure purposes on Saturday (I’ll write a blog post about that later).  This was the first walk Steven and I have taken together.

I had two letters to mail, so we walked to the post office.  It was a lovely evening for a walk. The temperature was a little warm for me, but it was comfortable in the shade and an occasional breeze cooled us off.  It felt good to my legs to walk.

One does make better time without a cute little dog stopping to sniff every few feet (yes, I know, a big, handsome dog would have the same effect) (did you think I was going to say “big ugly dog”?).  We were soon at the post office.  Mission accomplished. We crossed the street to the shady side and headed up Main Street.

A fence blocked off where Glory Days used to stand. The building had started to collapse over the winter, and the village finally took it all the way down last week.  It was the former Waverly Hotel, a site of some historical interest in the village.  For example, the jurors in the Roxalana Druse trial stayed there.  That trial, along with the murder it concerned, is the subject of a play to be presented by the Herkimer County Historical Society at Ilion Little Theatre (just thought I’d throw that in there).

We continued  on up Main Street, admiring houses and  the flowers in front of them.  I pointed out to Steven where the Historical Society is doing another archeological dig (more about that later, too).  We saw an old building that looked historical for sale. I told Steven to be sure to buy a lottery ticket.  If we won several million dollars we could buy it.

It was a pleasant if uneventful walk.  I was happy to exercise my legs, since I did not run today.  It would be a good idea to go running tomorrow.  After all, it is almost time for this blog to go All Boilermaker All The Time.

 

Two Long Runs, One Short Post

I went for an awesome run yesterday (Saturday).   I ran for an hour and twenty minutes including several hills, some of them quite steep.  I was very impressed with myself.  Then I  went to Liverpool and partied heartily with my sister.  That is an ’80s expression, and I find that appropriate, because we used to party about that heartily in the ’80s.  The result was I woke up this morning feeling as if I was in my 80s.

I went running anyways.  I thought the sweat would do me good.  Then, too, I knew I would be in no mood to run on Monday.  This way I could feel less guilty about it.  I could go for a  short run, twenty or thirty minutes.

It was a good plan, but I  reckoned without my uncanny ability to get lost.  In my defense,  these residential developments are often laid out in a far from straightforward fashion.  I often think they use a plate of spaghetti as their model (and I may have said so in this space; sorry to repeat myself).  I ended up running for 52 minutes.  It would have been 51:27, but I ran by my sister’s house  to make it an even number.  Additionally, I like the number 52, because it means I am playing with a full deck (get it?).

I know, this is not my usual Running Commentary.  In my defense, I’m tired. But I may go running tomorrow.  As the late, great Fats Waller often said, One never knows, do one?

 

Also, I Have a Headache

Well, this sucks.  And by “this,” I’m afraid I mean me.  Or perhaps, less globally, this post.  Let me explain…

Friday (yesterday) I thought I was going to have to work Saturday morning, meaning I had very little time to accomplish  all I had to do before heading to Syracuse on Saturday, which, incidentally,  I plan on doing (um, I mean, I’m not leaving my house,  I’m here with  my gun, my guard dogs and my best friend the Chief of Police) (and there’s nothing here to steal,  anyways) (but if you disregard the preceding two parenthetical comments and come over to rob me anyways, please clean the bathroom while you’re here).

Where was I?  Ah yes, planning in my head all I had to get done and in fact coming up with an awesome plan whereby I got it all taken care of.  The plan was not implemented, however, when my Saturday overtime got  cancelled.  Guess how many things on my list got accomplished?  NOT MANY!!!

I bet you thought I was going to say “none.”  However, I did paint  my toenails (hey, it was important to ME), go running (an hour and twenty minutes with lots of hills!),  got my shopping done, packed most of our stuff, and visited  the Herkimer County Historical
Society and 1834 Jail with my sister and some friends.

One thing I did not do was make my blog post.  Waaaaaait a minute.

 

By the Way, I Didn’t Run Either

This is Writer’s Blank.  I cannot think of a thing to say beyond lamenting the fact that I cannot think of a thing to say.

Do I really intend to post ANOTHER entry about Not Writing?  Oh, you knew I was going to get around to it sooner or later. My actual plan today is to write this right now so at least I am writing something, then put it in my Save Draft section for use in an emergency.  Of course, I have tried this plan before only to publish it right away, because I did not have anything else.

I wrote the above last September, never finished it, never put it in Save Drafts.  I  wish to heaven I had, because I’ve got a busy weekend ahead and no blog posts in sight.

At least, I wrote a post earlier this week and I had another Mohawk Valley adventure last night.  Additionally, I plan to go running after work, which is usually good for a few hundred words.  Moreover, it is Lame Post Friday.  There is no need whatsoever to stress about what to write for my blog post.  By my own self-imposed rules, I am off the proverbial hook (remember that:  if you ever want to use a cliche, just insert the word “proverbial” and you’re being self-aware and self-deprecating.  Maybe even post-ironic, my favorite).

Full disclosure: I’m not even having Writer’s Blank today.  I wrote another scene in my novel which actually — dare I hope? — advanced the plot.  But you know how it is, you get to the end of a scene and you’re done, unless you can think of another scene, which I could not.

Further disclosure:  My weekend got a little less stressed after I wrote the fourth paragraph when Saturday overtime got cancelled.  I would even have time to think of a real, non-lame Friday post, if I felt so inclined.

Obviously I do not.  Now I’m only sitting here trying to think of a good Lame headline.  So far nothing is coming.

 

Found It

It never fails that when you think of that one perfect earring to complement the outfit at hand, you cannot find it. I know, I know, if I would organize my jewelry and put my things away when I was done with them, I would not have these problems.  Then perhaps I could think of better leads for my blog posts.

Then again, my disorganized readers are sighing with relief, “I’m not the only one!”  My organized readers are shaking their heads, enjoying that frisson of smug superiority that they probably feel eighty-seven times a day.  Do I have any readers like that?  If I do, you’re welcome.

I have limited time to make this post and not just because I was harrumphing around the house looking for the earring.  I was also harrumphing around my bedroom figuring out something to wear.  We’re going to the theatre tonight (I say it with a la-di-dah, sophisticated tone) (I’d also make a gesture, but I’m typing).

The Players of  Utica are presenting One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.  This is the second weekend.  We tried to go the first weekend, but they were sold out.  You snooze, you lose.  We must leave early, to allow get lost time and find a parking place  time. I feel certain it will be an enjoyable evening.

But I guess my blog post, not so much.  Oh well, what do you want from me on Non-Sequitur Thursday?  Hope to see you on Lame Post Friday.

 

It Was Fun, Eventually

I seem to remember my Mom telling me that my Aunt Mary said she admired me, because I would work a ten-hour day, go home and run, then write a blog post about it. I worked a ten-hour day today, so I thought I would try the run and write part as well. The run went pretty well.

I decided I was going to run up the hill to Herkimer College (previously HCCC) the front way. This, for non-local readers, is a formidable hill. I try to run it at least once a week, once I get in enough shape to run it at all.

I was a little worried about my run, because I knew it was supposed to be quite warm today. However, it didn’t feel too bad as I left the house, so I started out with high hopes.

Then I put my hopes on hold, because to begin with my body was none too pleased with me. Well, I can’t help it if I haven’t been running for two days; I’ve had things to do. There are only 24 hours in a day, after all, and I insist on sleeping for as close to eight of them as I can manage. No matter. I knew if I kept running there was a good chance my body would relax into it and be fine.

First, however, it was very slow. It was taking me forever to get down German Street! Then I thought, why should that bother me? I run for a certain length of time, not a certain distance. I can run as slow as I want. As George Thorogood once said, it don’t confront me.

Soon I was running up the hill. Yes, I still call it running, even as slow and shuffly as I was going. Don’t judge. It wasn’t much fun, but I was building up my running muscles. Or perhaps merely my ability to keep going till it gets fun.

It did get fun. All along I had the certainty that I could and would keep going. You know, as opposed to my body screaming at me, “Let’s stop! Let’s walk! I want ice cream!” Then I felt reasonably content to be moving. Then I was at the “I can rock this” stage. Yes!

A woman at work was talking about all the stuff she had to do at home. I said that work was probably more rewarding than work at, you know, work. She saw my point but said running on a treadmill was not particularly rewarding. I did not tell her I never run on a treadmill, but I thought about it as I ran down Reservoir Road, admiring the scenery.

I wondered what she might say if I had told her that. Probably that she had bad knees and couldn’t run on pavement. I thought, sure, it’s bad for my knees, my feet, my back, and I don’t care! I’m going to run till something gives out! Fortunately, nothing has so far.

Then I thought, that woman was probably speaking figuratively. Her work at home is never done, so it is like running on a treadmill. What a discouraging thought, although I suppose some people like to run on a treadmill. To each his own, as the old lady said when she kissed the cow.

I ended up running for 55 minutes. I’m thinking the Boilermaker 15K might take me an hour and fifty minutes to run, assuming I take a few minutes more than the last time I ran it (after all, I was under 50 then). So I ran about half what I will run in less than a month.

I walked a full ten minutes for my cool-down. My cool-down walk has been taking less time since I lost my beloved dog. After all, I don’t need to stop and sniff anything. I’m afraid I’ll always miss my Tabby during those ten minutes. However, it does feel good for my legs to walk after running, and I can think of Tabby up in Heaven, doing cool-down walks with the angels. Do you suppose any angels run?

 

Only Tuesday?

I wrote a post while at work today (yes, Boss, while on a break) (oh yeah, like my boss reads my blog; I don’t think he even knows I write one).  And I just can’t post it.  It may be all right as stands, it may need editing, I may not use it.  I just can’t work with these things right now.  Yes, my dears, it is Tired Tuesday.

How is it only Tuesday, anyways?  When I look at all the things I have to and want to get done this week, it seems such a ridiculously short period of time.  Then I see how far away Friday and my fun weekend seem and I say, damn.  Of course one must fight the prevailing attitude to despise the week and only enjoy the weekend.  What’s that all about anyways?  We have seven days a week.  Why would anybody choose to be happy for two of them and miserable for five?

Oh dear, now we are getting into some half-baked philosophy, which I usually reserve for Lame Post Friday.  The subject of “choosing” happiness is a sore  spot for me anyways.  We can’t always choose how we feel.  Sometimes, I say, you just have to feel that way until you don’t feel that way any more.  For example, right now I feel tired.

However, I would like to write something other than “I’m tired” in this blog post.  I can give you a brief update on the novel.  It is not going well.  I’ve written a couple of scenes and partial scenes.  They are all very well, but they do not seem to lead anywhere.  I think I need a little more “because of this, then that,” if you see what I mean.

There, how’s that?  Three paragraphs about how tired I am, then four sentences about my novel, which tell you absolutely nothing about it.  I really gotta love writing a blog. Hope to see you all on Wuss-out Wednesday.

 

And in Theatre News…

There is good news for local theatre goers.  My husband, the handsome, talented Steven, may be returning to the Ilion Little Theatre stage.

Perhaps my elation is premature.  After all, the cast list has not been announced, and there are two more days of auditions.  Still, chances are good that Steven will get a part.

My own public (and by “public,” of course I mean my parents) (Hi, Mom and Dad!) may be pleased to know that I auditioned as well. My hopes for myself are not as high.  There are not as many female parts, and competition is stiff.  There are some highly talented female actors in this area.  However, I don’t need a part in order to take part, if you see what I mean.  There are sets, costumes, and props to worry about. I’m sure the director will find something for me to do.

The play is actually being presented  by the Herkimer  County Historical Society, and it is a drama of great local, historical interest.  Roxy tells the story of Roxalana Druse, who murdered her husband in1885 in the Town of Warren.  She was tried in the  Herkimer County Courthouse.  She was incarcerated and subsequently executed in the 1834 Jail.  Both structures still stand on Herkimer’s Historic Four Corners.  I know a bit about Roxalana Druse from visiting the 1834 Jail and from reading the book Last Woman Hanged: Roxalana Druse by James M. Greiner.

The play Roxy was written by local author Jack Sherman and will be directed by ILT veteran David Stritmater.  Production dates are Sept. 11 to 13 and 18 to 20.  I expect to write more blog posts about it. Perhaps by September this blog will become All Roxy All The Time.