Jim Atwell
You know the truism: You
really can’t lay claim to your
own house till you’ve owned
it at least a half century.
That’s how it is in the country
— not just around here,
but in any rural area. If
you’ve only owned a place for
20 or thirty years, others will
still call it by the former owners’
name.
I do it myself. If I’m trying
to explain where Anne and I
live, I can joke and say we’re
at the dead end of Cemetery
Road. But if I want to clinch
the matter, I have only to
say, “We’re in Stanley Stucin’s
place.”
“Oh, sure,” people will
say. “Nice people, Stan and
Frances.”
I’m sure they were. Frances,
we’re told, was a warm,
energetic woman who raised
chickens and a big garden,
and pretty much kept up the
place herself.
Stan evidently lived life
at a more measured pace.
About my present age when I
met him, he was a lonely
widower anxious to get out
from under “Stone Mill
Acres” and carry on with the
rest of his years. These, it
turned out, were sadly few.
Anyway, if Anne and I
manage to hang on here for a
few more decades, the eventual
new owners will get
more than house, deed, and
Anne’s richly composted garden
plot. They’ll get the need
to explain that they’re living
in “the old Atwell place.” I
like that.
Meanwhile, we two are
making a move to establish a
permanent place in Fly
Creek. We’re planting our
flag, as it were, by buying a
plot in the graveyard that’s
in sight from our driveway.
That seems apt, too.
Judy Cook, superintendent
of The Fly Creek Valley
Cemetery, is searching the
maps for us, looking for a vacant
single plot up in the old
section, beneath the big evergreens
and hemlocks. (We
both plan to be cremated, so
a single plot will do just
fine.)
“I’ll turn up a nice one,”
said Judy, “dry, and without
a lot of roots.” For no rational
reason, I like the idea of
“dry,” but a root-free plot
seems more of an advantage
to the hole-digger. Maybe
that’s what Judy was thinking,
too.
I first explored that
sprawling old cemetery in
1977, just after my late first
wife Gwen and I struck a
deal with old Stanley for his
house. One autumn morning
I was wandering around far
back among the graves when,
emerging from the mists, appeared
a big granite stone
inscribed ATWELL. I looked
closer and saw similar inscriptions.
A whole passel of
Atwells lay resting there. I
went back to the house and
told Gwen we’d picked the
right place to buy. We were
expected.
I asked Judy Cook to look
for a plot at least a little distance
from those Atwells to
avoid confusing any future
genealogists.
A Maryland Atwell, I’m
separated from the local distant
kin by at least six generations.
I found that out
with Mabel Atwell, who
taught a couple of Cooperstown
generations herself,
drilling in the old subject
complements and subjunctive
clauses. (Mabel, bless
her, is part of that passel
herself now.) We researched
it together in census rosters.
It was the redoubtable
Mabel who made the definitive
judgment. She clapped
shut the book of rosters,
planted her fist on it, and declared
me a shirttail cousin
to her late husband. And
that was that.
If Judy can swing it, I
wouldn’t mind a plot near
one of Fly Creek’s Civil War
casualties, since a couple of
them actually died in my native
state.
A tall obilisque just above
the winter vault records a
young man killed at Sharpsburg.
Another has a Fly
Creeker dying right four
miles from my own home. In
an exchange of ill prisoners,
he’d been brought by steamboat
up the Chesapeake to
recover at Annapolis before
being shipped north to home.
But he worsened and died.
In my boyhood, that place
was still called “Camp Parole.”
The most moving Civil
War markers, though, are on
the graves of two brothers,
killed in battle within a year
of each other.
Side by side, the stones
can bring tears almost a century
and a half later, for their
carvings must have been
chosen by a desolate father.
On the earlier stone, a hand
extends down, holding the
handle of a hook. From the
hook dangles a single link,
for a second link had broken
free from the first and is falling
away.
On the later stone, the
second link has also broken
free; the hook hangs empty.
The second link has fallen to
the earth. It lies rejoined to
the first.
I hope our old house
stands for another 200 years.
I hope eight or nine more human
generations shelter under
its sturdy roof.
Lots more, I hope, will feel
pride of ownership, though,
like us, they’ll really only
have a short-term lease. But
meanwhile, Anne and I have
made plans to stay in Fly
Creek, just up the road, under
those handsome tall
trees.
This hamlet is home and
always will be.
Find out about Jim Atwell’s
book, “From Fly Creek
— Celebrating Life in Leatherstocking
Country” at www.
JimAtwell.com.
Columns
In for the long haul ...
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From Fly Creek: Cheers for the Blue Rabbit!
My handwriting’s always been an embarrassment. Way back in elementary school, while most of the others were developing a clear, sometimes graceful hand (especially the girls), my penmanship showed no improvement.
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In These Otsego Hills: This and that ...
We have found the weather so far this year to be on the unusual side. And while we have no problem with the fact that we have received very little snow, we are of the opinion that what we have had instead is not particularly to our liking either. In fact, we are very hesitant to venture out much as we live in fear that the rain will turn to mixed precipitation which will freeze into a sheet of ice. And we are definitely opposed to encountering a sheet of ice underfoot. In fact, we are so hesitant that we now have taken to canceling our participation in events based on what just might be a dubious forecast.
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Book Notes: Feinstein’s latest is sheer enjoyment
Most people who follow sports have probably heard of John Feinstein. As a nationally known author, sportswriter, pundit and broadcaster, he has brought a unique angle to sports journalism. His groundbreaking book on Bobby Knight’s 1986-87 Indiana University basketball team, “A Season on the Brink,” still resonates today as an all-time classic.
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Book Notes: No Trekkie should miss Shatner’s books
It would be hard to find a television phenomenon as popular as “Star Trek.” Even though it was only on television for three seasons and 79 episodes (1966-69) it attracted viewers and devotees that still follow it passionately 45 years later. The fanatical supportspawned several movies and television spinoffs. Star Trek conventions continue to this day. There has never been anything like it.
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Up on Hawthorn Hill: Making sense of things
A book I have been reading investigates the various ways over time that we have made sense of the world. It carries the reader through to the present via several seminal classical texts and ultimately aims to suggest a strategy for “ finding meaning in a secular age.”
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In These Otsego Hills: ‘Property must be secured or liberty cannot exist.’ − John Adams
Last week we were asked if we would be interested in previewing a documentary, “The Empire State Divide,”produced by the Foundation for Land & Liberty. And we were more than happy to do so as we understood the documentary dealt with the problems that continue to face family farms.
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From Fly Creek: Now wait a minute!
On the ninth day of Christmas, driving down Cooperstown’s Eagle Street, I saw something astounding! No, not “nineladies dancing, eight maids a-milking, seven swans” etc. I saw one jogger jogging. And puffing on a cigarette.
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In These Otsego Hills: Goals of the past and goals of the future
We have long subscribed to the concept that we are always more successful if we, number one, set a goal and then, number two, meet it. And this was our thinking when we decided before Christmas to watch at least part of every college football bowl game. It was perhaps an odd, if not completely nonsensical, goal.
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In These Otsego Hills: Not to our liking ...
It is with sadness that we note the recent death of Steve Nagel. The son-inlaw of our late husband’s cousins, Alice and Harvey Eckler of Fly Creek, Steve was married to the Ecklers’ oldest daughter, Gail. We had the pleasure of spending Christmas Eve with the Nagels and the Ecklers in Fly Creek, greatly enjoying the delicious food and delightful conversation.
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Up on Hawthorn Hill: Of birds and faith
I watch birds quite a bit. Every five days or so I send in a report to Cornell as partof its annual Project Feeder Watch program. The data, collected from volunteers from all over the country, enables scientists to track population trends. I would spend quite a bit of time checking out the visitors to our feeders anyway. Participating in the feeder program makes a personal pleasure that much more meaningful. It is rare that aesthetical and scientific endeavors work in tandem.
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Book Notes: Biography captures the real Stephen Colbert
It would be hard to find a comedian as unique as Stephen Colbert. As the host of “The Colbert Report” on Comedy Central he hasmanaged to leave his mark on the nation’s consciousness in both a serious and humorous sort of way. His unusual wit has allowed him to become American icon. It would be difficult to find another entertainer quite like him.
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From Fly Creek: Christmas and varied blessings
I’m still astounded! The last farmers’ market before Christmas, I was sitting up front, directly under the ceiling heater, shmoozing with the hoi-polloi. (That’s an awkward linguistic mix,but let’s let it go.) As I sipped my hot coffee, a gloved hand came to rest on my shoulder and a warm voice said, “Merry Christmas, Jim.” I looked to my left—it was Santa Claus!
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In These Otsego Hills: Always a learning experience ...
We must admit that we thoroughly enjoyed our 2011 Christmas celebration. We partook of Christmas Eve dinner at the home of Alice and Harvey Eckler of Fly Creek and Christmas Day dinner at the home of Sandy and Al Bullard of Milford. We had our usual Christmas Day brunch at home on Pioneer Street, although we must admit it was a tad bit later than usual as, what we enjoyed most about Christmas, namely our granddaughter Abby, took a great deal of time opening her Christmas presents.
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In These Otsego Hills: Coming up ... 2012
Difficult as it seems, 2011 is fast coming to an end. And it is always our hope that as a year draws to a close, the issues which have been in the forefront during the year will be resolved. Unfortunately, we suspect that will not be the case this year. Instead, we are fairly certain that many of the issues that plagued this year, will continue to plague next year. Thus we will find ourselves still musing about the same issues we have spent time with already. And while we have not come toany conclusions about many of the issues, we do think they would all likely benefit from both sides thinking critically about perspective, risk assessment and possible solutions.
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Up on Hawthorn Hill: Circularity
When she was a puppy my dog Gabby would run in what I described then as “circles of joy.” She celebrated her15th birthday a few weeks ago and despite the inevitable frailties that old age imposes upon all of us, she is doing pretty well.
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Book Notes: Grisham doesn’t disappoint
John Grisham is one of this country’s most popular authors. Every time he publishes a book it’s an instant best-seller. He appeared on the scene about 20 years ago with his tense legal thrillers, “A Time to Kill” and “The Firm,”and hasn’t stopped producing top-notch novels since.
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From Fly Creek: Still singing, beyond our hearing
This column from Christmas 2001 still speaks deeply to me, and perhaps will to you, too. Take it, please, as my Christmas gift.
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In These Otsego Hills: The 2011 Cooperstown Carol
Since 1984, with the exception of one year, 1999, we have looked forward at the end of the year to going through all the issues of the paper in order to glean those news items which have been worthy of note throughout the year and which should make their way into our annual Cooperstown Carol.
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In These Otsego Hills: Dear Santa ...
Although we tend to think Christmas is for children and thus rarely think about what we might like to have, this year we have decided to let Santa know what might be left under the tree with our name on it. Of course, we fully understand if our list is a bit long, a bit expensive and a bitlate. However, we have just finished reading our November issue of Health and so have just realized what we need that we do not currently have.
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Up on Hawthorn Hill: Irony abounds
These are querulous times. Dissent and disagreement, as uncomfortable as they sometimes are, are essential components of a viable democracy. Democracies are always messy because everyone has a right to speak his mind and because whenever a majority is able to gain the numerical upper hand it pretty much runs the show. Several political philosophers have written quite persuasively of what they characterize as the “tyranny of the majority.” Get enough people on your side and you have the opportunity to get your way so long as you are able to maintain power. I suspect that most thoughtful people would agree that wisdom is hard to come by.
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From Fly Creek: Cheers for the Blue Rabbit!
