Happy New Year

Let's squeeze in one more look at Christmas before we leave 2013.  Let's take one more visit to Fairfield (Walk with Ghosts 2013 - The First).  The effect is much nicer at night time, even if the photos were shot in a rainstorm, and at great peril to life and limb.  What a marvelous home, right in the middle of so much sprawl.  A comforting reminder indeed.  Elegance, in the face of so many impostors.

Fairfield - Christmas 2013

Fairfield - seen from Rt. 5

Happy NewYear to all my readers, from the U.S. to Germany, Poland, China, Malaysia, Romania, Israel, Spain, and the list goes on….honest!  Bummer:  an IT guy recently told me some of these foreign hits may just be computers searching for certain key words….for who knows what purpose … but think clandestine, think spy, think nefarious.   So, with that picture in mind, a special Happy New Year to all you nice folks at the NSA.  Hope you enjoy the  blog and if they let you, leave a comment now and then. Or just read, if you have the time.

Mark Twain Quote:  On making New Year's resolutions …  "I'm going to live within my income this year even if I have to borrow money to do it."

The One…..

As sure as no two stars are exactly alike, people who fall in love believe theirs is special, unique, unlike any other in the whole of the universe past, present, or future.  And you know what, in rare and precious cases, that is just about right.  Those who love may even search and wonder, what rune for all time chaperones this love, defines it?

They know instantly, the first time it is encountered.  It comes to them unannounced, without invitation. It is not the lovers to seek. It … must find them ("the wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter.  It is not always clear why").

I speak simply, of a song.  That one song. The song. A musical potion of word and notes arrayed such that it enriches the deepest of  human emotions. It explains who you are as a couple, how you are, why you are.  Whenever heard, wherever  heard, the sound that reaches chosen ears places within the soul a perfect contentment.

At about 97 million and counting, there are certainly enough songs to seek out couples deserving of them.  Every generation has a choice all their own, and this list is long and historical.  For years, I always thought Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” was the anthem of such music.  For me, it is the gold standard by which all other such songs should be measured.

Recently, I heard a new song by the Goo Goo Dolls -  “Come to Me.” A quick trip to YouTube found me mesmerized by the lyrics, the sound, and the outstanding video, which plays such a significant part in communicating the essence of the music. I must believe "Come to Me" will take its rightful place as  another anthem, and will bless many couples for a long time to come.  In my alter universe where everything ends like a Hallmark Christmas movie, I think every story should have one.  Perhaps one day the song will find you. Your song.  It might even be this song.

You can find it at:  www.youtube.com/watch?v=U8VMYLniuDk

Trivia:  The Goo Goo Dolls started their long career in Buffalo, NY,  in 1986!

Mark Twain Quote:  “All of us contain Music & Truth, but most of us can’t get it out.”

Christmas Classics

There are tons of them, and that’s not counting the annual Hallmark assembly line of one theme offerings. The list is almost impossible to wade through.  I’m speaking of Christmas movies.  We all love them. And we all have our favorites.  Some of us religiously watch those favorites each and every year….we would consider our holiday season totally incomplete if we didn’t enjoy them at least once.

I’ve got a few of those, just like you.  And at this season, I want to share with you some of my all time favorites.  They are listed here, not necessarily in order of devotion.  Fact is, at Christmas, depending on the state of things, one may be preferred over another.  And they all have what I deem necessary for a Christmas favorite….a take away lesson of love, sharing, and caring, no matter how delivered, for all the little humans hanging out on our tiny planet.

Miracle on 34^th St. (1947)

The original please.  The 1994 version just doesn’t match up.  Come to think of it, few “remakes” ever measure up to their parent. Witness:  this version was nominated for Best Picture.  The 1994 version, not so much. With Maureen O’Hara and Natalie Wood (as Susie) and a perfect ending, it’s a classic through and through.  And if you’re really astute, you can see a young Robert Shaw as the taxi driver.

 The Christmas Story (1983)

It’s the 30^th anniversary for this instant classic.  Never gets old.  I’ve been to Cleveland and visited the house where some scenes were filmed. Come to find out, they were the exterior scenes…the inside doesn’t come close to looking like the real thing. There’s a separate house where a museum/gift shop is located.  One of the fellows who played the delivery guy of  “the” leg lamp was there offering his autograph for $20!  What a country.

Christmas Vacation (1989)

And it’s anniversary number 24 for this gem. It has to be a classic because I watch it every year.  And I just figured out it is really not for “little” children.  Just too many questions!  But funny.  Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye never had such a funny "cameo!"

The Polar Express (2004)

I actually liked the book better, but this one is….different, and sometimes different is welcome.  And it has Tom Hanks.  Works for me.  It has a lump in your throat ending. 

 

The Best Christmas Pageant Ever (1983)

Thirty years and counting. Originally a book, this is just an hour long tv movie.  It too, besides being very funny and entertaining, reaches into our humanity and deposits a life lesson on how to think of the poor among us. But the really funny actions of the “ Herdmans,” on a lighter note, beg us all to ask….do we have Herdmans in our family!  I’ll bet you do.

White Christmas (1954)

I dunno.  Every time I see Bing Crosby I wonder just how he made it, and how he got  that reputation of his (velvet voice aside).  With the goofy way he wears hats at an odd angle, he looks like a cross between a little smurf and one of the 7 dwarfs, with a touch of Shrek thrown in.  But this movie hits on so many human levels, a la 1947 style, that it never ceases to warm my little heart.

It’s A Wonderful Life (1946)

Talk about hitting so many human emotions, this movie is it in spades.  A story of warmth and perspective, love and redemption, it has lessons on the far reach of love for us all.  And it all could have happened right down the road from Syracuse. At least we’d like to believe that.  And we do.  :)

A Charlie Brown Christmas (1965)

Just plain fun, with some of the same lessons found in the previously mentioned movies, this one pleases young and…..not so young, alike. And in this one, the kids get the message just as clearly as the adults.  Of course, Linus steals the show.

Note: In the internet news arena this week, there appears a list of the top 10 Christmas movie classics, whipped up by "those who should know." Four of them appeared on my list!  Christmas Vacation (5), Miracle on 34th St. (4), A Christmas Story (2), and of course, It's A Wonderful Life (1). Cool, and the top ones too!

On the list was Elf. Even though I watch Elf every year (usually with little munchkins), I can't make my fingers type it on to the "list."  I dunno, I just can't do it.  Too many trips through the Candy Cane forest I guess.

This time of year is the most special "season" of the year.  It means many things to many people.  It is a season that is a sentient contradiction of its advertised theme.  Conflict and contention live beside peace and  harmony.  The fragile truce lasts only hours before the world returns to its divergent posture. How to make sense of it all?  Perhaps the best way to make sense is to use common sense.  Make it simple - keep is local.

So, whatever guides your boat through these seasonal waters, may you look with open heart and mind.  Consider, if you will. May you be blessed with a glass of your favorite wine, a fire in the fireplace (if you be so lucky to have one), the unfiltered laughter of children, and the unconditional love of a good pet. And it wouldn't hurt if you know someone who loves you, one whom you love in return.  All the rest ... just extras on the plate.   

Spoiler alert:  next blog post, which won't be long in coming, will feature Fairfield again.

Mark Twain Quote: “The xmas holidays have this high value; that they remind Forgetters of the Forgotten, & repair damaged relationships.”

Better Than Sex????

Now that I have your undivided attention, for at least the next 30 seconds anyway, allow me to introduce the word massage into this conversation. When we talk about massage, we are discussing something that has been around for ever.  See, fact is, if you mention the country China as the origin of anything, you are automatically talking thousands of years.  Oh, still there huh, thinking, ok, this could take a good turn.  Well, put a lid on it buckaroo.  But what I am about to tell you just might interest you very much, so hang in there.

I had my first massage about 10 years ago. Certainly apprehensive, ready to bolt in a heartbeat, I walked through that door and in an hour, my life changed.  I had no idea what to expect, but certainly didn’t think filling out “paperwork” was the first thing I would do. In addition to the usual personal data and pertinent medical information, there were two forms I had to read and sign.  They quickly brought a huge smile to my otherwise anxious face. 

The first basically stated that if I went toes up on the table, the massage therapist wasn’t responsible or liable but would call someone to come claim my body.  The second was, I thought, hilarious.  I’ll bet everyone who thinks massage wonders about, you know, what might happen, you know, during all that gentle, rhythmic stroking and rubbing, with that warm oil, well, you know, humans, being human and all, doing what nature programmed them to do. Oh hell, if you don’t get the gist of this by now, check your pulse.  Alas, not to worry, the form was brief, and right to the point.  It shouted from the roof top for all to hear….if you even think about it, you’re outta here!

That safety feature dialed in, I received my instruction as to how the session would proceed.  With those forms I just seconds ago signed still fresh in my mind, I was thrown a confusing curve when the therapist offered me the choice of lying on the table with nothing on, or keeping my Jockeys right where they were when I came in.  Hmm, I pondered, let me get this straight.  I’m going to lie on a table (ok - covered with a sheet, save for the exposed body part being worked on), and someone I just met 5 minutes ago and obviously do not know from the proverbial hill of beans, is going to cover 90% of my body with oil over the course of the next hour, and she tells me I can choose to be naked.  Crack me up.  I don’t think so.  My Jockeys and I would not part company that day.

Once initiated by this baptism of fire, I must tell you that massages became for me one of life’s greatest treats. And into the bargain, they are good for us. In addition to all the mental and emotional benefits, I believe they have physical rewards by helping clean out some of the junk in your body.  But even if they didn’t, the feeling of relaxation, calmness, and renewal you get are more than worth it. I’ve come to regard them as something essential to one’s well being, and I believe nothing could produce the same positive feelings that a good massage always does. Or so I thought.

Then someone whispered the word reflexology in my ear. Seems this is a system of massage that targets the feet, hands, and head, with the theory that there are reflex points on them that are linked to every part of the body.  By targeting these spots, a therapist can positively affect a part of the body far removed from the point of massage – aka, the therapy can heal.  

But, in realistic terms, when we say reflexology, we invariably talk about massage of the feet.  I know what you’re thinking here.  Rubbing smelly feet, how awful and unappealing is that? Looking at bunions, cracked heels, weird toenails, how could that possibly be good, for the therapist anyway? We're all self conscoius about out little piggies. You and I have even joked about people with “foot fetishes,” and not in the kindest of terms.  All in all, feet aren't perceived to be neat, or a treat.  OK, that was lame….but true.

Well folks, I’m here to tell ya, don’t dismiss this until you’ve gotten up the gumption to try it. I attended a seminar at Natur-Tyme in Dewitt, and was very impressed when a reflexologist, during a demonstration, rubbed a spot on a patient’s foot, and produced a very sharp pain in that person’s neck! I was hooked….I had to have one.

So, I signed up, and, with modest expectation, stumbled into one of the most intense and pleasurable experiences of my life.  I can’t even begin to convey to you (I’ll have to hurry, my editor is losing interest right about now) all the nuances of a good session.  Just believe that it is more intense than a massage ever thought of being, and there will be some surprises awaiting you.  During one session, I literally jumped when the therapist rubbed a spot on my foot.  It was a brief, yet sharp, stabbing jolt in my upper abdomen, precisely the body location on my foot that the therapist was working on. 

Let’s put it this way, if I were faced with the dilemma of having to choose one therapy for the rest of my life, either a full body massage or reflexology – I would choose reflexology hands down (hey, I could have said feet, but I didn’t).   No hesitation, no question.  So, massage … reflexology - better than sex?  Wadda ya think?   Well, you’re just going to have to try ‘em all, then decide!  Have fun.  :)

Mark Twain Quote:  “We all do no end of feeling, and we mistake it for thinking." 

Walk With Ghosts 2013 - (The Last)

Just in time for your Thanksgiving reading!  And now, the final three, so to speak.  They've been waiting for us.  But why not, they've nowhere to go anyway!

John Wilkinson

John Wilkinson took up residence in 1952, rather recently I’d say. Born in 1868, his family was already connected with Syracuse. Years previous, his grandfather gave Syracuse its name.  He was a smart, inventive guy, a tinkerer.  Good enough to graduate Cornell (engineering), and good enough to play on its first football team. 

He had a love of bicycles, and bicycle racing.  He competed far and wide, and became a Champion racer. He was, early on, the chief designer for the Syracuse Bicycle Co., and is credited with designing the first bicycle built for two. He married…who else?  Why, one Edith Belden, of course.  God, these Beldens were everywhere! Their bicycle ride lasted some 55 years, their only tragedy the loss of a son, also buried in Oakwood.

His best known success occurred while he was at the Franklin Mfgr. Co. There,  he invented the air-cooled engine that was the automobile rage for years. The first car with this new technology debuted in 1921, at a cost of $7,100, quite a sum in those days.  It was the first car with 4 cylinders and got 29 miles a gallon, an excellent result for that era.  He ended up as a V-P with that firm.  At one time, the Franklin Mfgr. Co. consisted of 18 buildings on 30 acres of land.  As you drive Geddes St. past Fowler High School, look closely at the football field and imagine a bustling car manufacturer of long ago, with cars rolling off the assembly line, cars that put little old Syracuse on the map.

Later in life, he worked with Dodge to develop a water cooled V-6 Auto, then in WWII he worked on the Liberty V-12 engine for aircraft.  His interests led him to try to develop a wooden car, believing that less weight meant lower costs and more gas mileage. He correctly believed that the future of the automobile depended on more good roads. He was ahead of his time, for sure!  With Henry Ford, he helped found the Society of Automotive Engineers.  And into the mix of all that he accomplished, he was an excellent golfer. Golf seems to be a minor theme this year.

And when he reached his 84^th year, he took his last bicycle ride, right into Oakwood Cemetery, where we met him, swinging a golf club. Heaven.

Milton Price - the Merchant Prince of Syracuse

Milton Price is this year’s human interest story! Born in New Woodstock in 1825, he made his way to Syracuse with a stop along the way in Chittenango to work at a dry goods store -  and a tavern.  It was there he developed an affinity for retail business – and drink. 

When he got to Syracuse, he opened up a dry goods store in the Washington Block on Salina St.  The store prospered, thanks to Milton’s business acumen, and his (many would say) eccentric approach to the “promotion” (modern day translation – advertising) of his store. Examples:  he would walk down the street, knock the top hat off someone’s head and crush it.  He would then direct that person to his store where they could pick out a new one, for free.  Promotion!  He rode horses into his store and trampled on the carpets, to show how durable they were.  Promotion! He used to throw kids into the nearby Erie Canal, fish them out, and send them to the store for a new set of clothes, then instruct them to go home and tell their parents where they got the new outfits (try that today and see where you end up!).  Promotion!  This offbeat approach to business earned him the title of  “Merchant Prince of Syracuse.”

In no small part, his creativity was, many said, fueled by alcohol.  He did love a good drink.  Imagine this.  Way back in the 1850s - 70s,  Milton lived in a mansion he built directly across from his store on Salina St.  Milton loved to ride his horse all the way to Cicero, there to spend some time in his favorite tavern, the King’s Hotel.  On more than one occasion, he rode his horse into that Hotel.  Would you ride a horse from downtown Syracuse to Cicero just for a drink?

He was labeled everything form a genius to a drunk.  He was something in between all that.  But he did have a knack for, and a love of, business.  He made a lot of money, and he did love Syracuse!  His generosity and many acts of charity were legendary.  Perhaps the loss of his son at the age of 7 played a part in how he acted.  No, surely that was a factor. At the age of 64, Milton died and went to his final residence, which is now in need of some serious maintenance.

 

Dr. George Greeley - in the Oakwood Chapel

Dr. George Greeley.  If there is a sad story among this year’s ghosts, this one is it.  Horace Greeley’s younger brother was born in 1844 and died in 1912.  He lived, most people believed, a tragic life for most of his 68 years. 

He had a young sister who died at the age of three.  He vowed to fight disease so future parents would not have to lose their children like this.  He saw the horrors of the Civil War, and there he witnessed the emergence of narcotics to treat disease.  During the war, they alleviated the pain of amputation and other wounds.  After the war, they became a dope fiend’s paradise.  Soldiers, hooked on them, were the conduit for the use of opium in mainstream medicine. There was widespread misuse of opium for sleeping, teething, etc., in addition to pain therapy.

He did not approve of this approach to medicine.  Thus, George Greeley became Dr. George Greeley…a doctor of homeopathic medicine.  This, he thought, was the path to curing the ills of mankind.  He opened his first office in Baldwinsville, where one of his first customers was Ann Aurelia Stone.  They married a few years later and had a daughter Jennie, named after George’s deceased sister.

They moved to Syracuse where he opened a homeopathic drug store with a small medical office next door.  They then moved to a larger location on Warren St.  Business was good.  Then, the unspeakable.  Daughter Jennie died, and George was plunged into deep depression as he was unable to save her….his medicine could not cure her illness. Life became unbearable. The marriage was harmed. 

Then, one day, Mabel Rice walked through his door, and the rest, as they say…..

She was young, blonde, beautiful, and shy.  He was instantly smitten, and found reason to live again.  They had a 3 year affair, which was hardly a secret around small town Syracuse.  George divorced his wife, something that rarely, rarely happened in that era.  He and Mabel eloped.  Due to the social norms of the day, his medical practice suffered because of this “scandal.” My my, how times they have changed!

Life spun him around another corner. He began to forge checks, falsify records, and the like, all to procure money to pay his many expenses.  He was trapped in a downward spiral.

Then, the unspeakable, again.  Mabel got sick, and died, at the age of 39.  Dr. Greeley broke down completely.  Unable to cope with life, and beset with even more money troubles, he longed to be with his Mabel.  So, one day, he came to where she was.  He came to Oakwood, and on the steps of the Chapel, he ingested enough morphine to grant his wish.  He is now buried next to his beloved Mabel, forever.

Note:  How many times have I walked by that spot, not knowing.  As you can see from the picture, we did not meet at George’s grave, but rather inside the old Chapel, which is where he often went. So, this was the reason for the distant check in tent.  The inside of the Chapel was dark and dank, and suffered from years of abuse.  It was cruelly stripped of everything, but you could get a partial glimpse of what it used to be, and it honestly made me mad that it has been allowed to fall into disrepair.  My mind’s eye saw what could be an elegant edifice that could welcome visitors even today.  It triggered in me a wild idea that Oakwood’s old buildings and prominent grave monuments should be restored to their original beauty.  Some day.  Some way?

Have a Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

The Chapel at Oakwood

Mark Twain Quote:  “In order to know a community, one must observe the style of its funerals and know what manner of men they bury with most ceremony.”