You know, it’s almost
like paging through
a photo album. Every
New Year’s I pull out the
last year’s file and rifle back
through them, recalling the
columns and enjoying again
the pleasure I had writing
them for you. OK, let me be
honest: I wrote them for me,
too. It was fun, even if steadily
harder work.
Let me share a couple of
great memories raised by last
year’s columns, and then add
a final 2009 note, not from
any column but from Christmas
just past. It hasn’t been
in print, but it will stay in my
heart, surely.
A year ago this time
brought a great new feature
to Fly Creek and a new
distinction to our household.
Fly Creek got back a barbershop
of its very own when
Reid Nagelschmitt opened for
business at the Four Corners.
Ried, at six foot eight is a
towering figure among the
world’s barbers, runs a grand
old-fashioned shop, complete
with
back-issue
magazines
and wilted
potted
plants. It’s
just like the
old days;
and when
you drive
by, many of
the gents
you see sitting
inside,
purportedly
waiting for
haircuts, are
really just
enjoying the
ambiance
and busting one another’s
chops. Reid, bless him, has
given Fly Creek a small-scale
Mohican Club.
The big event at our
house last winter was Blue’s
receiving his official papers
as a therapy dog. He’s now
welcome at hospitals, nursing
and retirement homes, and
schools. Last month I tagged
along at Bassett while Blue
did his rounds.
Anne walked him
into the surgical
waiting room
full of silent,
frightened relatives.
She quietly
introduced Blue
as a therapy dog
and said that, as
she walked him
around the room,
anyone was
welcome to pet
him and scratch
his ears. Everyone
did, relieved at
a chance to take
their minds off
their fears.
With Blue’s head resting on
their knees, they told Anne
why they were there, waiting
for a loved one who, in several
cases, had hours more left
in surgery. Anne visited, and
Blue communed, his mismatched
eyes fixed on the
person’s. I have no question
that he was reading their
pain.
I watched in awe, proud
as can be of my wife and
our dog. And when the two
headed off to another waiting
room, I was touched to see
that many who had been
sitting in silent fear were now
talking to one another. Dogs
are instruments of grace.
Another instrument of
grace, begun early in 2009,
is our Parkinson’s support
group. Eight men, who to that
time had been dealing with
their illness largely with the
sole support of their wives,
suddenly had one another.
The result was amazing,
moving; and not just for the
men. For the care partners,
often housebound by their
loved ones’ illness, suddenly
had company that knew
exactly what they were going
through. Everyone has been
strengthened.
I’ll write more about my
own 2009 experiences with
Parkinson’s in a few weeks.
For now, let me again express
Anne’s and my thanks to
the support group men and
women who are now sharing
our pilgrimage with us.
They feel like family.
The added treasured
memory, the one that
hasn’t been in print, follows
on Anne’’s and my annual
custom: With our fellow Fly
Creekers, we join in the
candlelight service at our
hamlet’s United Methodist
Church. For as long as I’ve
known it, this handsome
little church has never been
limited to its own congregation.
It's Fly Creek’s metropolitan
cathedral.
The Christmas Eve service
there always involves
candlelight and wonderful
music, and this past year it
did so in aces. Pastor Tom
Pullyblank had banked the
communion table with
dozens of unlit candles,
seemingly of random colors
and sizes. But they weren’t
random at all. As the short
scripture readings followed
one another, candles were lit
to represent the Christmas
story’s principals. First a pair
of candles was lit to symbolize
Mary and Joseph, heading
for Bethlehem. Then a
short, stolid-looking candle
took flame to stand for the
innkeeper who first refused
and then relented and let
them camp in his stable.
A clutch of homely
candles, lighted in turn,
stood for those poor hillside
shepherds who were
dazzled by heavenly light.
And behind them, a couple
dozen ivory tapers, tall
and graceful, stood for the
angels who raised such a
heavenly ruckus.
Then, of course, three
more candles appeared
toward the front, these
for Casper, Melchior, and
Balthazar.
When the readings were
done, the communion table
was an island of light in the
darkened church. It was
then that a final candle was
lit, representing the Child
new born. And from it, light
spread down the aisles and
along the pews as each of us
touched that candle’s flame
to our own tapers. ``Silent
Night,’’ sung softly just then,
moved us all deeply.
That turned out not to
be service’s closing hymn.
Instead, we stood and sang
carol after carol, accompanied
by the church’s organ
now handsomely restored.
That service was a feast of
music and light.
Thanks, Pastor Tom, for a
wondrous Christmas gift.
What a blessed end to the
year.
READ ABOUT Jim Atwell’s book, From
Fly Creek--Celebrating Life in
Leatherstocking Country, at JimAtwell.
com
Columns
Jim Atwell: Light shining in the darkness
- Columns
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From Fly Creek: Passing fronts and settled weather
(I owe the first part of this column to an informal writers’ workshop sponsored by the Smithy Pioneer Gallery. The small group, led by Gallery Director Danielle Newell, meets Sunday afternoons and is open to anyone interested in the writing craft. As a warmup exercise on that very rainy afternoon, we each wrote a few paragraphs on the weather and emotions. Here’s what that keen group prompted me to scribble down) The dour old Scotsman, the one featured in jokes without number about buying lottery tickets, pinching pennies, scorning worldly ways, etc., once silenced a friend who was praising the beautiful weather.
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In These Otsego Hills: We're back from Michigan ...
Unfortunately, we once again find ourselves stuck in a time warp. When we look at the calendar, we realize that Labor Day is fast approaching. Yet, we seem to be operating under the misconception that it is still early July due in large part to the fact that we spent the almost five weeks from July 15 to August 17 in Grand Rapids, Michigan. We feel the summer has sailed by and we, unfortunately, have not kept pace.
Continued ... -
Otsego Herald: Censorship?
All those indebted to John Lawrence, Post-rider, and do not settle the same IMMEDIATELY may rely upon having to pay cost!! Otego, Aug. 24.
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In These Otsego Hills: 1984 comes to a close ... finally
As we continue traipsing through 1984, we realize that even though we were supposed to be covering the comings and goings of Cooperstown, we actually were able, even then, to touch on a number of pressing community, as well as personal, issues. Of course, much to the relief of the powers that were at CCS, the school was not among them. The he-we ran for the school board in 1984 and was elected. Thus the school was deemed off limits by the powers that were at the paper. But we discovered there was still a wide range of issues upon which we could write.
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Otsego Herald: New school book
From the Otsego Herald for Saturday, Aug. 18, 1810
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Book Notes: Books offer tennis insights
Professional tennis sometimes seems to be the ultimate life. Where else could you travel the world, earn gobs of money, get in great shape, and have groupies from the opposite sex chasing you all the time? And you get all your equipment free to boot (which may explain why players smash racquets without remorse). Quite a glamorous life, isn’t it?
Continued ... -
In These Otsego Hills: Continuing our 1984 musings
Now that we have undertaken the beginnings of this column, we fear we find ourselves unable to stop our review of the early writings. In fact, we seem to be completely addicted to the project. And thus, we will continue to explore the very foundations on which this column has been built.
Continued ... -
Book Notes: Burnett's book recalls 'Golden Age'
It’s a shame that today’s young generation missed the golden age of television from the 1960s and 70s. The fact that Hollywood studios with their ``original’’ ideas of constantly remaking hit TV shows from that era into new movies and reunion specials is quite telling. Even Fox with its ``That 70’s Show’’ is a reminder of that whimsical time.
Continued ... -
Home Notes: A place to cherish
As we enter into the middle of summer, let us pause and relish in the fact that we have been blessed with such lovely weather.
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From Fly Creek: Hurray for Mother Bassett!
Just back from my annual week at Lake George’s Silver Bay, in company with about 600 other Quakers. As always, it was a great time: Friends shared silence in the early morning by the lake and during the day in the big brown-shingled tabernacle. (Silver Bay is an old YMCA camp.)
Continued ...
Plenty of fine stringed music and singing in the evenings; lots of daytime rocking-chair stints on the deep veranda, facing across rolling lawns and lake to green mountains and skies of startling blue. -
In These Otsego Hills: In the beginning
Our remembering Jerry in last week’s column has now lead us to muse about our early days of writing a weekly newspaper column.
Continued ... -
Book Notes: Prohibition should not be ignored
I was an American history major in college and one topic that my professors never discussed was prohibition.
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Otsego Herald: Elopement
From the Otsego Herald for Saturday, July 21, 1810 Compiled, with comments BY HUGH C. MACDOUGALL
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Home Notes: Personal Care is a rewarding occupation
When I was a young girl in the early 50’s my family would often take rides through Cooperstown and the Cherry Valley area.
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In These Otsego Hills: Remembering Jerry ...
Difficult as it is to believe, we have been a widow for eleven years this week. And yet it seems as if our late husband Jerry just died yesterday. The memory of it remains most vivid in our mind. We suppose there is much that we don’t remember about July 20, 1999. But we do remember just how much that day changed our life forever. We lost not only our spouse of 28 years, but also our best friend.
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Otsego Herald: Celebrating the 4th
From the Otsego Herald for Saturday, July 14, 1810 Compiled, with comments by
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Our Opinion: What’s good for the goose...
The board of trustees has decided to hire an engineer to review the work of CLA Site, the firm hired to do the site assessment and design work for the Village Gateway Project _ now known as the Cooperstown Intermodal Transit Project. That review will cost up to $12,000.
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From Fly Creek: ‘Thump-thump, dum-lum’
Since I last wrote to you I’ve been several times embraced to Mother Bassett’s bosom.
Continued ...
(Oh dear, I hope that’s not a disrespectful metaphor. But if you’ve seen photos, you know she was a handsome, dignified woman with an ample superstructure.) This time, for variety, the hospital visits at first seemed to have little to do with Parkinsonism. But a new problem had turned up that had me tested in every part of the hospital except obstetrics. -
In These Otsego Hills: Travels with The Widge...
We have decided that the role of grandmother is quite to our liking. As we have been told any number of times, as a grandparent it is perfectly acceptable to hold, play with and fawn over the grandchild until such time as said grandchild becomes fussy. And then, and this is the best part, it is completely within the purview of the grandparent to return the fussy grandchild to the parents. We love it.
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Otsego Herald: Shocking accident, American arrested
On Wednesday last, as Joseph Faulkner, esq. of Middlefield, was returning home from Cherry-Valley, a gust of wind arose up suddenly, a large Elm was blown across the road, directly on Mr. Faulkner, who, together with his horse was instantly killed.
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From Fly Creek: Passing fronts and settled weather
