Cooperstown (sigh… again!)

                        One of the Negatives of going to the same places each year that we come back to New Jersey is that it may be difficult to find new aspects of said place to write about.

                        That is my problem, not yours.

                        Your problem comes when you have to decide if I was successful or not when that writing occurs!

                        So…… you have an assignment coming up!

                        No worries, there will not be any grading, no ‘handing it in’, or even discussions surrounding this issue.

                        Just a New Post on a familiar subject, hopefully with a fresh twist on it! So, here goes…….

            We visited Barb up in Cooperstown the past few days. The weather was incredible, which made the drive up there (about three hours) really, really nice. We spend about 90% of the time on country roads winding through the little old towns of upstate New York which is about as far away as anything could be from their big cousin downstate, New York City.

                        Monticello, Liberty, Livingston Manor, these towns all mark our progress and get us to where we turn off of “Old Route 17” a highway with the same credentials (in my opinion, and with apologies to those of you that haven’t resided in New Jersey for eons) as old Rt. 46, Rt. 23, RT. 9, and even the revered RT. 66. These are all venerable old highways that served us well, way before the Interstate System was proposed by President Eisenhower in the late ‘50’s. If you are lucky, you can still spy the evidence of their past in the occasional old signs and buildings of classic Americana when you drive them.

                        Roscoe is the town where we turn off of RT. 17 (yes, the Roscoe Diner is still there!) and really get into the country.  Downsville, Walton, Franklin (more on Franklin later), big Oneonta, Colliersville, Milford, and finally Cooperstown.

                                    Have you ever been to Cooperstown? To the Baseball Hall of Fame? If you have, then all of this will be familiar. If you haven’t, then I am going to hopefully tease you just enough to plan a visit to there. And this is where I need to be careful as the minutiae surrounding the why’s and wherefores of the location of the Baseball Hall of Fame, the origins of that sport, and the back history of Cooperstown itself is staggering. I will do my best to balance this so you hopefully will not be bored to tears and cancel your ‘subscription’! Maybe I’ll just put together a separate Post on that subject, it’s crazily convoluted….. anyone interested?

                        Anyway, all the times that I’ve been up there before, I never made the time to visit the H.O.F. but this time we spent three days there so that I did have some time. Now please note that I am not an avid fan of baseball, I like it when my Home Team (Mets) win, but I’m probably more like the casual type of fan. But I do have to admit that I have incredibly fond memories of the 1969 Mets and their march to win the World Series. I adored Tom Seaver and was actually present at the old Shea Stadium when he pitched a near perfect game against the Chicago Cubs, allowing only a bloop single in the ninth inning ☹.  They didn’t call him Tom Terrific for nothing!

My point being that you do not have to be a baseball junkie in order to enjoy this experience! These players have become household names and just the mention of them brings back those memories that maybe weren’t actually yours, but you do remember how your Dad, (or in my case my Mom!) Grandfather, Uncle, etc. would live or die by their team’s or player’s actions.

Classic quotes from some classic guys!

                        There is a video presentation that is worth the price of admission alone. It is quite moving and really pours the history and myriads of stories together in the context of the Hall of Fame. I am not ashamed to admit that a tissue or two would have been nice to have had in my pocket!

                        When I was there my fellow attendees included several hundred Little Leaguers from teams from around the USA, especially the South and West where school is out already. They are here in Cooperstown for some incredible Round-Robin tournaments that go on for about a week and are played either at Doubleday Field (1920) or the newer  Dreams Field (1996 and not the one from the movie, that’s in Iowa). The teams fundraise all year to get the honor to play here. They also get to visit the Hall of Fame. I’m quite sure that many a kid left that shrine with a desire to achieve that level of ability and greatness!

            Me? All I wanted was to see Tom Seaver’s bronze plaque!

            The other place that I visited (and you’ve been there too over the years) is the Fenimore Art Museum. This establishment is more intricately entwined with the aforementioned story of the history of baseball and its supposed beginnings than one would normally imagine. (Maybe I’ll throw that in the possible new Post too!)

I am constantly amazed at the quality of the exhibits that are there. Like all museums, they obviously rotate these, some with other museums and galleries, and some are making their way across the country and set a spell in many an art museum. The “In-House” collection of American Artists, especially from the Hudson River School (mid 1800’s) is extremely satisfying.

These offerings rotate in and out of that “in house” collection, always keeping things “fresh’ for the frequent visitor. But if that’s not your cup of tea, then how about a collection of mostly 20^th century photography collected and curated by Peter Fetterman, the owner of the Fetterman Gallery in Santa Monica, California. If you like looking at images that literally take your breath away (and I mean it!) then you too can see them if only in a book, The Power of Photography by Peter Fetterman. All of the images that I saw are contained in it and it obviously includes incredible comments and insights from the most influential and famous photographers of this era. I saw these photos in the exhibit, in person, and then HAD to get the book! You all know how much I like photography; I hope that you can get that from the photo’s that accompany most of the Blog Posts!

(No photography was allowed in that exhibit so I cannot show you any examples, you’ll just have to take my word for it!)

                        My advice would be to beat a path to Cooperstown, NY and just see for yourself!

                        In the beginning of this Post, when you were on your way to Cooperstown, you had to pass through the small village/town of Franklin. The main drag there is the only way to get through that area and causes some issues when the Town wants to have a parade. Paula can tell you all about it as one year she traveled home on the 4^th of July and got stuck until the Parade started and finished. That tale gave me an idea for a Short Story!  With your permission, below you will find that short story. (I’ve written tons of them!)

I hope that you enjoy it!

            +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A Parade

            I hit the brakes as the Fire Department person stepped off the curb and halted traffic. Actually, there wasn’t any traffic, I was the only one on the street, but there I was, stopped anyway. I rolled down my window and leaned my head out, trying to catch the Traffic Stoppers attention.

            I called out, “Good Morning! What seems to be the delay?”

            The Traffic Stopper just shouted over her shoulder, “Town 4^th of July Parade.”

            Fuming a bit and looking at my watch, I asked the obvious next question. “How long?”

            “Probably at least a half-hour…. or so.”

            “Half-hour? Any chance you can sneak me through now?”

            “No can-do sir, I’ve got my orders” she said patting the radio mic mounted on her shoulder. “If I let one more car through now the Captain will tan my hide and I don’t need that! I’m the FNG in the department and I get enough rookie grief as it is!”

            “FNG?”

            “Yeah, you know, ‘F’ing New Guy….. or Girl.”

            “Oh…. right… I get it.”

            I rolled up my window and just sat there waiting for whatever. I probably looked at my watch a dozen times or more before the parade even started. A couple of minutes later the FNG Traffic Stopper walked over to my window and indicated for me to roll it down.

            “What now?” I asked.

            “You don’t have to get so testy sir; I’m only doing my job here.”

            “I know, but why me?”

            “Because, Sir, you were not the last one that I was allowed to let through. You were the first one that I was ordered to stop. Besides, what’s the rush? Got someplace really important to be that a little delay is going to mess it all up?”

            That kind of hit home. I really had nowhere that I had to be, I was just driving back home and was hoping to avoid any kind of traffic issues later in the day. But there I found myself, sitting on Main Street of Franklin, in upstate New York waiting for their 4th of July Parade to start.

            “Actually no.” I responded, “Just hoping to beat some later day traffic on the way home.”

            Miss FNG Traffic Stopper smiled back and explained, “We’re just a small town here and this road is our “main” street even though it’s the only way to get through these parts. So, once a year we get to march down our Main Street. All the organizations from the surrounding area get involved. Little League, Scouts, 4-H Clubs, Rotary, and you know, everybody. And when it’s all over we have our town picnic and BBQ down at the ballfield. Everyone comes, it’s all free and we all have a great time.”

            “Got it,” I replied, trying to smile sincerely but probably failing at that.

            “Watch for the float at the end of the Parade with the Town Queen on it. She’s our candidate for County Queen at the Fair, you can’t miss her. That’ll be your signal that the parade is ended. You can fall in behind that float and be on your way.”

            I looked in my rearview mirror and saw the long line of cars now backed up behind me. I nodded that I understood.

            “Just don’t crowd her in your haste to get wherever it is that you don’t have to be.”

            I nodded again somewhat guiltily.

            “I’ve got to go join the Department now. By the way, you’re free to join us at the ballfield later if you get hungry just sitting here.”

            Then she turned and went down the street to join her already lined up comrades.

            I had no choice but to just wait there and watch as the parade passed in front of me. It was your typical small-town parade, with all of the obvious participants, just as she described. You could tell when the Queen finally made her appearance because the crowds on both sides of the street stood and cheered the loudest.

            That was my signal. I tried my best not to crowd the end of the parade. I left what I thought was a decent amount of room at the end of the parade and started my motor and slowly drove down Main Street, followed by my own parade dragging along behind me.

            I’m not sure why, but at the intersection where Main Street continued towards civilization, I turned left and followed the townsfolk towards the ballfield. I parked along a fence line where there were some other cars already and got out and walked towards the festivities.  Grabbing a burger and a Coke I walked around a bit. I got a few looks because I was definitely not a local, but they all smiled at me anyway.

            Over by the ring-toss I saw some Fire Department folks and I recognized the Traffic Stopper amongst them.

            “Hey! FNG!”

            She whirled around, it took a second or two, but she smiled at me.

            “Hey yourself, Mr. ‘Gotta-Get-Going’, glad you stopped by!”

            And that was it.

            “That’s how you met Grandma?”

            “Yup! Sure was! Isn’t that right Sweetie?

            My FNG Traffic-Stopper just smiled and nodded her head.