Mom's Sixteenth Birthday Party

Mom's Sixteenth Birthday Party


Middleburg News, October 27th, 1929

Miss Frances Barber Given Birthday Surprise

A birthday surprise party was given by Mr. and Mrs. Clarence Barber at their home last Friday evening in honor of the sixteenth birthday of their daughter, Frances.

She had been away for the afternoon so was very much surprised on returning to find about thirty guests there to greet her.

However, she entered into the fun at once. Everyone had a very enjoyable time during the evening due to the hospitality of the Barber family.

Most of the time was spent in playing games, singing and dancing. Toward the latter part of the evening Frances took time to open the many lovely and useful gifts which she received.,

A lovely lunch was then served which carried out an orange and black color scheme, as did the attractive decorations throughout the house, which were very appropriate because of the nearness of Halloween.

Soon after the guests departed wishing her many more such happy birthdays.

Those present were: Emma George, Beatrice George, Leah Brayman, Elizabeth Thorington, Dorothy Rivenburg, Dorothy Engle, Ethel Reed, Belle Haskins, Maude Bailey, Evelyn Hubbard, Emma Tenblad, Marian Van Tassel, Neva Becker, Ruth MacDonald, Marguerite Meier, Julia Kane, Sara Gibbons, Ralph Cooke, Roland Shepard, Victor George, Clarence Earls, Raymond Earls, Clifton Hubbard, Almon Haskins, Alton Thorington, Maynard Laraway, Myron Stanley, Norman Van Tassel, Franz Rosenburg, Mrs. Grant Laraway, Mildred Laraway, Frances Barber, Mr. and Mrs. Clarence Barber.

Notes:

Attendee Maude Bailey married attendee Almon Haskins. Also, about this time, Bessie Laraway & Clarence Barber (Mr. & Mrs Clarence Barber) went to Reno for a divorce. Bessie then married party attendee Norman Van Tassel and Clarence married Bessie's sister, party attendee Mildred Laraway. Clarence and "Billy" also went to Reno with Bessie & Norm.

When she was eighteen, Frances married party attendee Clifton Hubbard. If anyone knows of more connections among the party attendees, please add them in the available "Comments" section. Gerry Hubbard

Grandma by Marna Suzann Ford

Grandma...
On Hubbard Hill
Catskill Mountains hazy blue green
Sittin' on the porch
Smoke in the fresh air, cut grass
Scary well cover,
Uncles singing with guitars
Family talking
Cousins together
Musty smell of the house
Crooked floors, hand hewn beams
Cold root cellar, cuckoo clock
Family meal always with dessert

Grandma….
In the kitchen
Making fresh fruit cobblers
Pies in ten minutes
Busily planning the next meal
Working in the garden
Sweet corn, cucumbers and tomatoes
Laughing with the grand kids
Religiously attending Flat Creek Baptist
White steeple with hymns leaking out
Dry preachers, friendly people

Grandma….
Brushing out her long hair at night
Wearing short dresses with skinny legs
Farmer's wife, married 53 years
Hardworking
Her children born at home
Sending $2 for every birthday
Making my wedding dress

Grandma…..
Traditional woman's role
Center of family in Gilboa
Strong Christian Warrior
Quoting God's word
Passing on her Christian Legacy
Through generations
To her daughter
To me

Susan's Memories Of Her Mother

The Life of Frances Marietta Barber Hubbard, as seen through the eyes of her youngest daughter, Susan Frances Hubbard (Reynolds) Ciacci – June, 2005.

Frances Marietta Barber Hubbard, born at home in the Pine Grove area of Huntersland - on October 27, 1913, the Town of Middleburgh, Schoharie County, New York, died in the hospital at Banning, California, on Wednesday, June 1, 2005.

Frances grew up as an only child until her mid 20’s. Her Uncle Maynard Laraway, her mother’s brother, called her “fluffy” because her hair was just that, fluffy.

Her childhood was somewhat privileged, as her father who was an only child himself inherited the family farm, which was prosperous for the times and the area.

Frances attended and had birthday parties, and spent lots of time with her cousins, Emma and Marion. Summer weekends were spent with her parents, aunts and uncles and family friends at Crystal Lake, picnicking.

She attended school in Middleburgh, where she would spend her weekdays with her “Grandma Barber” (her father’s mother), whom she loved and whom she described as having everything “just so”, right down to her starched dresses and collars. She was not the academic student that her cousin Emma was, but she loved geography, to draw and sketch, and later in life spent many hours reading.

Mom’s parents divorced when she was 16 – a scandal it was – her father Clarence marrying her mother Bessie’s younger sister Mildred Laraway, and her mother Bessie Claressa Laraway marrying Norman VanTassel, another farmer and friend of the family, who had once been married to Bessie’s cousin. All four persons accompanied each other to Las Vegas for the divorce and remarriage of the new couples.

In later years, after Mom had a child or two of her own, along came a half-sister, Judith Barber, whom Mom also loved, but with whom never established a close relationship, as she had her own family to tend to.

The Laraway sisters kept a close bind with each other despite the scandal, and with the rest of their brothers and sisters, and their friendships and relationships continued the rest of their lives. Their lives had changed, but they still were accepted by each other.

But, for Mom, although she visited with her family back and forth as though all was well, she was wounded from the shame and embarrassment it had caused her at the tender age of 16, and I don’t believe she ever really recovered from that fully.

Frances loved to dance and at about that time, it was at a dance in Livingstonville, New York, that she met Clifton John Hubbard, and soon they married, Clifton being 25 years old, Frances being18 years old . They moved to a little home in Gilboa, New York, which was recently the Gilboa Post Office, just across from the Gilboa Dam.

The Hubbards said Frances brought life to the family. Indeed she did. She was the mother of 8 children, had 28 grandchildren, and 23 great-grandchildren at the time of her death, June 1, 2005.

Eventually she and Dad decided to move to one of the houses on the old Hubbard homestead on Hubbard Hill, the house Grandma Anna Christianna Hubbard lived in, where Anna raised her two sons, Grandpa Elmer and Uncle John. Frances and Clifton moved there when their family was still small.

At that time the house had no running water, indoor plumbing, and no electricity. When asked how she felt about that move, Mom replied that it didn’t bother her one bit. She said she had all of the strength and courage in the world.

Her life on Hubbard Hill was simple, yet busy and complex: Being married to Dad, and raising eight children, (all healthy and well, for which she as always so thankful, the boys running wild in the woods, “little devil-catchers” she would call them, with a hint of fun in her voice, and a spark in her eyes), was not an easy task, but was one for which she had tons of strength and which became most of her world.

Blessed with long arms that stretched out to her many children and grandchildren, and large hands to do the endless duties of a housewife and mother in the early 1900’s.

At times carrying water from the barn in milk pails, hoeing a rock-hard garden, roaming through the fields and woods with her children, picking wild blueberries, blackberries, and wild strawberries to make cobblers and pies, and hulling those tiny field strawberries and making an old fashioned strawberry shortcake for her family.

Her pies were plentiful and delicious, and sometimes a little unique, creating sour cream pies and sweet apple pies and current pies. In the earlier years, she would make a cake daily, to top off our supper meal she served to her large hungry bunch.

She kept a good, attractive house on meager finances, doing spring cleaning each year, wallpapering at least one room each year, and sometimes many, painting, washing, cooking and sewing for her children, dresses and skirts for the girls, embroidering dresser scarves, crocheting afghans for each child’s household, quilting blankets for grandchildren; canning vegetables, tomatoes, corn, fruits such as peaches and pears, preparing jams and jellies, relish, pickles, beet relish, homemade chili sauce, and French kraut, all stored in the cellar, some in large crocks, or in the old jelly cabinet that Grandma Anna used, and on the shelves in the cellar way.

She was always afraid when company came, that she would not have enough food to eat, which was never the case, as she always had an excess of food for her occasional guests and family.

In the winter she would stoke the fire, and make sure the heating cable was plugged in so the water wouldn’t freeze.

She worked on the farm with Dad, milking cows, tending the chickens, replacing endless numbers of window panes broken by thrown baseballs and maybe a rock or two here and there, and gathering eggs.

She would patch the house and porch with her hammer and nails, grow tall red Hollyhocks, drive fast to neighboring towns to shop, and told of the beautiful Nippon China set she once owned – it being broken as one of her children climbed up on top of the china cabinet for some candy, and tipping over the cabinet, breaking all of the contents – including her Nippon China!

On Saturday morning she would be busy making her pies or cakes, rolls and cinnamon buns for her family to devour on the weekends, and in earlier years grabbing a chicken, chopping off it’s head, and dressing it for dinner the next day, as Sunday morning would be spent in church, Flat Creek Baptist, hearing the Word of God.

Washing she did on Mondays, as most efficient homemakers did in those days, with an old wringer washer, loads and loads, first the whites, then colors, then darks, tee shirts and jeans hanging on the yards and yards of clothesline. Modest she was: When she hung up the underwear, she’d hang a washcloth with them to cover them up from the sight of any neighbors that might happen by. (All of two neighbors, the bus driver and the mailman!)

Truly, some days the only people she saw with the exception of her beloved children’s faces, would be the mailman – Wally Stryker, and the school bus driver, Claude Castle, who drove each one of her eight children to Gilboa Conesville Central School, where we all attended kindergarten through 12th grade.

Burning the trash was sometimes a memorable event, as on at least two occasions, Mom “set the field up back on fire”. While burning the trash the wind picked up an ember from the burn barrel and carried it into the huge field behind the house. Brooms and shovels, and daughter Sue, among others helped beat out the fire, which one time burned acres of field, which necessitated calling the Conesville Fire Department to assist. But, by the time they arrived (15 minutes later) the fire-fighting Hubbards had it all under control!

Mom’s religious experience as a child and teen was at the Dutch Reformed Church in Middleburgh, which, she would say in later life, “didn’t amount to anything”. As she raised her family she had a longing for something in her life and soul, and began reading “The Sword of the Lord” newspaper and attending Flat Creek Baptist Church and finally found the longing of her heart – her Lord Jesus Christ.

Her faith grew and she became an active member at Flat Creek, teaching Sunday School, active with the ladies Missionary Meetings, Donation Suppers, and Vacation Bible School, teaming up with Lavilla Kingsley or Evelyn Bailey to teach. She was faithful at Sunday Night services and mid week Prayer Meetings as well. Her purpose on Earth was being fulfilled.

She told us that in her younger years she could “swear up a storm”, but that all changed as her heart was touched by the transforming love shown to her by her Savior.

She played the piano some and would accompany Carol and me as we practiced to sing at church services on Sundays, or when the rest of the family would gather around an old piano with missing ivories, and out-of-tune keys, and sing old hymns or old songs from sheet music she stumbled through at the keyboard.

I had the privilege of witnessing one Sunday Evening Church Service, when sophisticated Pastor Hiltsley giving his sermon said something about egg yolks and Mom gagged, and her close somewhat impish friend Lavilla Kingsley sitting with her in the pew, gave out a snicker, and the two Flat Creek Baptist women in their mid-fifties, got to laughing so hard, that the sophisticated preacher had to stop his sermon!

Mom was very attractive and slender, 5’3”, small to medium framed, with long dark brown hair she pinned up on her head and striking bright blue eyes. Except for her persistent migraine headaches and undiagnosed scoliosis, she possessed good health.

She was somewhat proud, and always conscious about her looks and her hair, and would whip up a dress or apron for herself (in earlier years from feed sack cloth) in no time. I used to call her a fabric addict. She loved going to the fabric store to buy cloth.

When meeting others, she would seem aloof, but not because she thought herself better than others, but that she was a little unsure of herself. But, as her few select true friends got to know her, they saw the rich quality of this selfless person.

She was embarrassed sometimes though, I believe, around the Barber side of the family of the disheveled shape the farm became during the 40’s and 50’s, and dreaded telling her mother (who had only one child) that “she was pregnant again”.

She wasn’t one to have long labored conversations with the neighbors or anyone really, pouring out her heart. She would just say what she had to, and then get on back to work – doing something – getting something accomplished. One saying of hers, among many, was “never put off ‘til tomorrow what you can do today”. She loved to work. It defined who she was – her accomplishments.

And she told me once, “never tell anyone what you don’t want the whole world to know”. She was also discrete.

But Mom secretly wished to be a man, (Go figure! Can you imagine that?!! With all of the demands as a wife, mother, and woman with a large family and her migraine racked head), and to be a carpenter. She loved a hammer and nails. I’m sure the nails that were driven in her Savior’s hands and feet were especially meaningful to her.

Of all of her prayers that went up to heaven every day for her family, the most important one to her was that they would all be “saved”. She became very concerned and grieved at times over certain couples of her family, as marriages failed and divorces became final, but would always accept a new spouse as one of us.

She “preached and harped” as my brothers would say, at her family of her convictions and the things she thought were wrong with our lives. She would have her little scripture verse, or religious saying posted on the wall next to the door, so that when members of her beloved family went by the doorway, they couldn’t help but glance at it. Right there, staring us in the face – warning, pleading, encouraging, inspiring.

She had very few luxuries in her life compared to a lot of other women, and certainly nothing in comparison to what we have today, including leisure time. And some days her migraine headaches would rage, and leave her sick in bed for hours and recovering for days.

But I only know of one time when she didn’t/couldn’t get out of bed in the morning when Dad did to fix him breakfast, and send him off work and start her day.

Frances grew to hate the consumption of alcohol of any kind, by any one. She left Dad a time or two as well, as his disposition from drinking was too much to bear.
But you know, she returned and fulfilled her commitment to her husband.

I’m told at the beginning of their marriage they loved each other, and I have to say in the last years they found comfort with one another. But I think they had several years when their relationship was a struggle, and displays of affection toward each other are absent from my recollection growing up, but that wasn’t the custom of that day anyway. This would have been a topic never discussed back then.

Her luxuries were trips across country to California, Ohio, Niagara Falls and Florida to see her children and grandchildren; the Sundays after church, as she prepared huge, delicious meals for her family as we would all gather upon the farm with our spouses and our children, and the joy of her heart was that (with the exception of Dear Roberta) we were all well , and that we were there to spend some time with her and each other - these were her blessings.

Mom loved each one of her grandchildren, step grandchildren, and great-grandchildren –each one being naughty, and unique. She would “baby sit” the ones near by and the bond between grandmother and grandchild was great.

Among the multitude of things Mom taught me, she taught me to drive, and to sew. She sang nursery rhymes to me as a child when I was lonely or sad, and when I was eight years old, while tucking me into bed one night, told me that Jesus died on the cross for me, so that I could be forgiven of my sins, and someday to go Heaven to be with Him.

She was lots of times my best friend, and some times the last person in the world I wanted to know something.

Frances’ mother, Bessie Clarissa Laraway Barber VanTassel, whom Mom loved dearly and was devoted to, lived the remaining five or so years of her life with Mom and Dad, Mom “seeing to” her aging Mother.

During that time Dad had a stroke and for 10 years was a partial invalid himself.

Grandma Bessie died, Dad died, and Mom remained on the Hill ((some say the God-Forsaken Hill), but to her it wasn’t God forsaken.

She found God there, while sitting on the porch, looking at the majestic view of the mountains and valley, watching and feeding the birds, peering out the back windows at the deer and wild turkeys, seeing the autumn colors of the woods, watching the weather move in from the West: snow storms, howling winds, pouring rain, and dark sunless days, seeing rainbows and so often a breathtaking sunset.

It was her home – where she found consolation from her hard work, rest, comfort, sometimes loneliness, but mostly contentment and peace. She also renewed her friendship with Aunt Ella & Maude Haskin to the point where they were called the "Three Musketeers" by some of locals.

Until she could not be alone any more, and the same courage and spirit that took her to Hubbard Hill, took her to California to live with her daughter Marilyn where she lived five more years. And the sense of contentment she learned on Hubbard Hill saw her through to the end of her life.

She lived the last three years in a nursing home, her little body increasingly weakening, in California, far away from New York, still contented at her existence even though she became a total invalid in her last months from osteoporosis, an immensely enlarged heart, lungs laboring often with pneumonia and finally failed kidneys.

She died on Wednesday, June 1, 2005, at age 91.

Oh, I will never be the strong woman my mother was. I can never tell of the positive influences she had on me, her family, her neighborhood and the world.

This world will be less of a place – Hubbard Hill will never be the same – after having women like Grandma Anna Christianna Hubbard, Grandma Agnes Haskins, and Frances Marietta Barber Hubbard walk those fields and hills, and now, having them absent from it.

But Heaven is richer. God has another of his Chosen with Him now.

The Passing

Frances Marietta Barber Hubbard, October 27, 1913-June 1, 2005

The tide recedes but leaves behind bright seashells in the sand

The sun goes down but gentle warmth still lingers on the land

The music stops and yet it echoes on in sweet refrain

For every thing that passes, something beautiful remains

......unknown

He Was A Friend Of Mine....

He Was A Friend Of Mine

"Sam The Man” we called him in those Catskill rolling hills

And though its fifty years ago, I picture him at will

A long and lean and lanky kid, fair skinned, blue eyes, blond hair
Raising hell and having fun, he’d take on any dare

As kids, we prowled those hills and towns in both our father’s cars
We “parked” and went to swimming holes, under-aged, we’d hit the bars

We’d go pick up “The Prattsville Girls”, we’d smoke and buy them shakes
Like devils, drive the fire roads in the hills behind Earl’s lake

His Dad had bought a ‘52, pale green, cool Pontiac
And I flipped a butt and burned a hole right through the seat in back.

We both played sports in high school, though he a year behind
Both dirt poor and scraggly, but we didn’t seem to mind

When he went in the Navy, I saw him just once more
On Haskin Hill, while both on leave, we swapped our service lore

But I often thought about him and the crazy times we had
From what I know it seems he had more good times than the bad

Then I look back and have regrets as everybody can,
I knew him only as a boy I never knew the man…..

Haskin, Leonard William "Sam"

23-Year Navy Veteran Retired From City Of Chattanooga

Leonard William "Sam" Haskin, 67, died on Thursday, Oct. 12, 2006, at his home.

He served 23 years in the U.S. Navy before retiring to Chattanooga.

He worked for the city of Chattanooga for the past 13 years.

He is survived by his loving wife of 45 years, Fay Henderson Haskin, of Chattanooga; daughter and son-in-law, Jacqueline and Kevin Smith, of Chattanooga; sons and daughters-in-law, Peter and Annette Haskin, of Ooltewah, Brent Haskin, of Chattanooga, Keith and Jeanne Haskin, of Dalton, Ga.; three grandchildren, Alex Smith, Zach Smith and Katie Haskin; brothers and sisters-in-law, Neil and Ruth Haskin, of Duanesburg, N.Y., Michael and Ruthy Haskin, of Southwick, Ma.; sisters, Charlotte Carlton, of Chattanooga, Joan Tiger, of Lexington Park, Md., and Peggy Harper, of Syracuse, N.Y.; and many nieces and nephews.

Graveside services will be at 10 a.m. Friday at Chattanooga National Cemetery with the Rev. Art Jones officiating and with full military honors. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to Hospice of Chattanooga, 4355 Highway 58, Chattanooga, TN 37416.

Condolences may be sent at www.heritagefh.com.

Arrangements are by Heritage Funeral Home & Cremation Services,

7454 East Brainerd Road, Chattanooga, TN 37421.

Captain Jim

One Of Our First Cousins

Guess Who?

September 3rd, 2006, Tara Hubbard & Kevin Newell

Tara's Wedding

50 Years Ago: The Class Of 1956 Senior Picture

Row 1: Lucy Roe, Bonnie Brown, Joan Marquit, Bill Drebitko,
Camilla Acello, Rose Brainerd
Row 2: David Kishpaugh, Carol Parliman, Elizabeth Proudman,
Margie Kohler, Betsy Snyder, Shirley Mueller, Mrs. Alice Edwards
Row 3: Gerald Hubbard, Donald Tompkins, Walt Micha, Pete Hughes, Charlie Wyckoff, Forest Ballard

Photographs remind us of what we now think we once were
As the days and weeks and months and years all speed by in a blur.
Gilboa Central Senior picture, 1956
Central means that we all came from way out in the sticks.

Duck & cover, polio, "The Diary of Anne Frank "
Hungarian rebellion suppressed by Russian tanks.
With Elvis on the radio, James Dean at the drive-in
Young Peoples Meetings, roller skating, necking was a sin.

Then Camelot and brothers John & Bobby met their fate
Then "The Pill" and Vietnam, and then there's Watergate.
We lived and loved and failed and won and somehow made it through
Now here's some pictures black and white that look a lot like you.

Most of these folks lived through life's strange mists and lights and fog
And are on my distribution list for this looking backwards blog.
And as the weeks and months and years all speed by in a blur
Photographs remind us of what we now think we once were.

Fifty years ago, in 1956, Dwight D. Eisenhower, signed legislation that inserted the words "Under God" in the Pledge Of Allegiance, made "In God We Trust" our national motto and signed a bill for the Interstate Highway system.
Elvis Presley hit the charts for the first time with "Heartbreak" Hotel, played in his first movie, "Love Me Tender”, “Payton Place” was the best selling book and videotape was introduced by Ampex. The first hydrogen bomb was dropped on the Bikini Atoll, General Electric introduced the “Snooze Alarm”, Fidel Castro landed in Cuba with 82 followers, Yul Brunner was best actor, Ingrid Bergman best actress, and “Around The World In Eighty Days was the best picture. Mel Gibson, Paula Zahn, Olga Korbut, Bjorn Borg, Tom Hanks, Martina Navratilova, Larry Bird, Steve Harvey, Bill Maher, and Johnny Rotten were born. Connie Mack, Alfred Kinsey, and Bela Lugosi died.

In Gilboa, New York, 18 kids, mostly without a clue, graduated from high school and I was one of them, graduating last in my class with an average of 64.49, just enough to round up to a passing 65.

Class Of '56 In The 7th Grade

Photographs Remind Us Of What We Now Think We Once Were

Row 1: Pete Hughes, Don Cornell, Gerald Hubbard, Bill Drebitko, Bobby Pickett, Walt Micha, Dick Buel.
Row 2: Joan Marquit, Mercedes Valdez, Rose Brainerd, Cosmo DiSalvo, Margie Kohler, Camilla Acello, Betsy Snyder, Lucy Roe.
Row 3: Bonnie Brown, Rose Mattice, Roslyn Ormsbee, Mr. Eric Dahlberg, Carol Parliman, Shirley Mueller, Lois Andrus, Elizabeth Proudman.
Row 4: Hayward Newcomb, Burton Rogers, Richard Moore, E. Speanburg, Oliver Mattice, Richard German, David Kishpaugh, Donald Tompkins.

Dad & Mom, David, Wayne & Doug; About 1947

The Youngest Three Boys: 1947

From Left To Right:

Clifton John, David John, Frances Marietta, Wayne Morris, Douglas Maynard.

At The House In Gilboa When Dad Was The Gilboa Town Superintendent

Doug & I Hunting Woodchucks

Hunting Woodchucks


Doug & I
Hunting Woodchucks

Doug and I took Dad’s old car out hunting one spring day
To hunt woodchucks with a .22 on the road toward Conesville way
Me fourteen and Doug was ten in a Buick ‘38
An old pump action .22 with the feed tube not quite straight

No air bags, seat belts, padded dash, soft steering wheels back then
Just a metal box and rigid steel, cast iron and plated tin
We started over the “cross” road, the day was bright and still
Turned right by Raymond Goodfellows then on down Fancher’s hill

Doug was fooling with the gun trying to load some shells
As we came up to Bob Cammer’s place, that farm he kept so well
As I looked over toward the gun and turned my head to see
I drove that damned old Buick straight into a big Oak tree

The horn popped out and hit my face, the steering wheel jammed my chest
And Doug bounced off that metal dash, then all just came to rest
Smoke and steam poured from the hood, the motor screaming, rough
Then I reached down and found the key and turned that damned thing off

Alton Brand was driving by and stopped and pulled us out
He said, “ It was the damndest thing I’d seen or thought about.”
“That car was going down the road as straight as straight can be
“It didn’t brake or make a curve, just drove into that tree”

The State Police came out that night to make out their report
Dad had to say I stole that car to keep us out of court
The trooper took me to the porch and said his terse, brusque talk
“The next time you go hunting things, I think you’d better walk”

So at aged 14 I’d wrecked a car and hurt my brother’s eyes
And I guess the thing I think about as years & months fly by
Malaria, bike accidents, close calls in cars and trucks
Living long and getting old takes lots and lots of luck

Hayden's First Wedding & Tuxedo: 7.1.06

Hayden's First Wedding & Tuxedo

The Oneonta Daily Star, December 20, 1955

GILBOA--"Off The Track," a comedy in three acts by Felicia Metcalf, was given by the class of 1956.

The cast included David Kispaugh, Gerald Hubbard, Mary Clark, Betty Snyder, Lucy Roe, Camilla Acello, Cosma DeSalvo, Charles Wyckoff, William Drebitko, Walter Micha, Rose Brainard, Bonnie Brown and Joan Marquit.

Here is a synopsis of the play I got off the Internet: I play Silas Dobbins.

A fascinating group of people are thrown together when a passenger train is derailed and the passengers wait inside for a relief train. The group includes three peppy college girls, a young male law student, a good-natured Italian woman and her two children, and the wealthy, extremely haughty Mrs. Reginald Vanderventer. There is also a nosy old maid, Miss Pidgie McDougal, a peculiar deaf man who has a mysterious old suitcase which he never lets out of his sight (tickling Miss Pidgie’s ever-present curiosity), and an engaged couple. The crowd is thrown into pandemonium when Mrs. Vanderventer discovers that her $10,000 string of pearls is missing, later discovered in Mrs. Guarino’s bag. Bill Lindsay, the prospective lawyer, announces that he is going to hold a preliminary trial and appoints a judge and jury. He will defend Mrs. Guarino. Cleverly, he clears her name and exposes the guilty party just in time for Miss Pidgie to learn about the contents of the mysterious suitcase! One interior set.

OFF THE TRACK
CAST OF CHARACTERS
(5 men, 8 women, extras if desired)

MR. JOHN MORGAN
Station agent, aged about forty works at his desk in his shirt sleeves and vest, wears a
green visor to shade his eyes. He is rather surly at times. Slightly gray, a few lines on
his forehead and at eyes, no rouge.

SILAS DOBBINS Gerry Hubbard
Handy man around the station keeps up the fire, sweeps out, and fills the water
cooler. Aged twenty-five wears old blue overalls and a blue shirt, a railroad cap with
a visor, heavy muddy boots. Hair needs cutting and he needs a shave, lines on
forehead and at eyes, florid complexion.

FLICKIE NELSON
Attractive and peppy college girl aged eighteen. Wears a pretty suit and blouse, long
bob, plenty of lipstick, very little rouge.

BETTY PHILLIPS
Also a college girl, aged eighteen. Clothes, make-up, and hair-do similar to those for
Flickie.

JOAN PARKER
College girl aged eighteen. Clothes, make-up, and hair-do same as for other girls.

MRS. GUARINO Camilla Acello
An Italian woman aged forty good-natured and generous, very fat. Wears a red scarf
over her head, her dress doesn't fit very well, her skirt is gathered all around her
waist, she wears large clumsy looking shoes, and a black coat. Her hair is black and
is combed straight back from her face to a knot on the back of her neck. Her
complexion is sallow-no rouge or lipstick.

ANTONIA GUARINO
Her daughter aged twelve. She has a dirty face and her hair needs combing wears a
plain cotton dress, rusty looking shoes, black hair, sallow complexion, no lipstick or
rouge.

BILL LINDSAY
Attractive and good-looking college student aged twenty, wears a nice looking suit
with sweater, no hat, full of fun a little rouge on cheeks.

MR. OSCAR POZENBY
Aged fifty, hair is gray and becoming bald. He is deaf. He is wearing a badly fitting
suit of clothes. He is quite unsociable heavy lines on forehead and around eyes.

WILLIE WOODSON Billy Drebitkl, I think.
Thin, pale, slight in stature, aged twenty-two wears a nice suit, collar, and tie, very
little rouge.

Many Thanks To Maude Haskins For The News Clipping

Tapping Trees

Tapping Trees

Merel Jr. chopped my finger off when I was eight years old
Betty said her parents almost died when they were told
We thought we’d make some maple syrup that day in early spring
We gathered spigots, augers, hammers, pans, & pails to bring

Out to the woods across the road where lots of maples were
With tag alders and large beech trees, White pine and Douglas fir
Folks used to tap a lot of trees out there when we were young
The biggest sugar bush I knew was Bessie Cleveland’s farm

Ernel Briggs would boil the sap o’er smoky crackling fires
To get that wondrous maple syrup to fulfill our desires
For tastes and smells to make our lives a little bit more sweet
We’d drown our eggs and pancakes in it ‘n make ’em “fit to eat”.

So we gathered some old siding for the fire to boil the sap
The other kids took all the tools to find some trees to tap
Merel Jr. had the axe to swing and I would hold the wood
And move my hand before he hit as quickly as I could

About the second chop or so, all things just went to hell
The axe came down on my right hand and blood began to swell
My right hand middle finger tip hung by a slender strip
The bright white bone was shining through as blood began to drip

Merel Jr screamed and horrified, he grabbed me by the arm
And dragged my through the barn yard crick and up behind the barn
My mother, hearing screams, came out an met us on the lawn
Took Wayne’s clean diaper from the line and wrapped my hand & arm

They took me to Doc Persons, a doc in Lexington
A mustached red faced kind old man, much rumpled and rotund
He took that flopping finger tip and stood it up real straight
And with a splint just wrapped it up with white adhesive tape

Two days later we went back to see that plump old doc
To bar lockjaw, each scrawny arm received 8 tetnus shots
That finger used to throb and ache in weather wet or cold
But all of that evolved away as I got grey and old

Lots of kids got hurt back then on farms their families owned
The most dangerous place for a kid back then was the place that they called home
At Mackey’s Corners, Bobby Mace lost a thumb one day
He got it caught in block and tackle used to draw off hay

I remember him one handed shooting fouls from the line
While the rest of us threw underhand, like Mikan at the time

Now all that’s 60 years ago and if you haven't seen it
When I flip you the finger, you can see I really mean it.

Notes From The Internet:

Tree Tapping - Where It All Begins

Did you know that although Europeans knew how to tap trees, it was the American Indian who discovered how to make maple syrup?

Indians from New England to Canada were producing maple syrup from 1664. The Indians made a sloping cut, or gash, two inches deep and 2-1/2 inches long, in the side of a tree. A knife or wood chip was put into the bottom of the cut so the sap flowed down the cut, onto the knife and into a receptacle on the ground.

The receptacles were made either of bark caulked with pitch or hollowed out logs. By 1765, the settlers changed the Indians' tapping to tree boxing. They trimmed off the bark and chopped a 1/2-inch deep square or rectangular hole into the tree trunk. A sloping trough was put into the tree trunk to take the sap from the hole, or box, to a spout or spile, which led the sap from the trough to a receptacle.

Boring holes in a tree started around 1774.By 1950, the present day tapping was accepted. Spiles are used to direct the flow of sap from the trunk. Originally they were wooden, then the Eureka sap spout, made of galvanized cast iron, took over. It was replaced by metal spiles and buckets and also plastic spiles for plastic or polyethylene tubing.

The Indians used a basket or tub from hollowed out tree bark as a collecting receptacle. They were placed on the snow or ground at the base of the tree. Troughs were used by the colonists until the late 1840's.

Wooden buckets or pails were introduced as early as 1748, but weren't common until much later. Wooden buckets were still used in 1935; then they were replaced by tin-plated buckets because the wooden buckets dried out and leaked if they weren't painted every year.

Bucket covers have been used since 1870 to keep leaves and debris out. Plastic tubing, used since 1965, takes sap directly to a gathering vat or storage tank.

Memorial Day, 2006

In Memory Of The Love And The Lost

The Boys, Their Dad & Their Cars About 1954: Rebuilding The Garage

Top: Clifton LaVerne, David John, Wayne Maurice, Douglas Maynard, Gerald Elmer, Clifton John
Bottom Left: 1952 Studebaker Champion & 1951 Ford, David & Wayne In The Background
Bottom Right: 1952 Studebaker Champion, Gerald In The Background

LaVerne owned the Studebaker, Dad owned the Ford.

One time, Laverne let me use the Studebaker to go to a drive-in movie and when I left, I forgot about the speaker and drove away breaking the driver side window.

The fender skirts and the fins on the Ford were supposed to be cool.......

Carp Diem

Carp Diem

Eugene Carman

Rhodes’s slave! Selling shoes and gingham,
Flour and bacon, overalls, clothing, all day
long
For fourteen hours a day for three hundred and
thirteen days
For more than twenty years,
Saying “Yes’m” and “Yes Sir” and Thank
you”
A thousand times a day, and all for fifty dollars a
month.
Living in this stinking room in the rattle-trap
“Commercial.”
And compelled to go to Sunday School and to
listen
To the Rev. Abner Peet one hundred and four times
a year
For more than an hour at a time,
Because Thomas Rhodes ran the church
As well as the store and the bank.
So while I was tying my neck-tie that morning
I suddenly saw myself in the glass:
My hair all gray, my face like a sodden pie.
So I cursed and cursed: You damned old thing!
You cowardly dog! You rotten pauper!
You Rhode’s slave! Till Roger Baughman
Thought I was having a fight with some one,
And looked over the transom just in time
To see me fall on the floor in a heap
From a broken vein in my head.


From "The Spoon River Anthology", Edgar Lee Masters, 1915

The Peddler

The Peddler

The Peddler

The peddler, an old Jewish man, drove up from New York
He went to church on Saturdays and stayed away from pork.
His dull green Chevy paneled truck was built in ‘32
And he dressed in denim overalls, faded, worn and blue

A real life old time peddler, his route was long and rough
And he drove the Catskill Mountain roads selling all his stuff
Straw hats and jeans and sewing thread, his truck was crammed with goods
And he’d start out high and end up low just like we knew he would

He had a scraggly unkempt beard all sprinkled through with gray
His deep set eyes held a guarded look that never went away
His manners were impeccable, old world genteel and fine
His voice, accented, rumbled low, but always warm and kind

A rolling-dry-goods-hardware-store, he’d show up close to noon
And to keep his faith, for lunch he ate potatoes with a spoon
That old green truck was loaded with his memories and his dreams
As well as kaki shirts and pants and gingham by the ream

He’d always block the tires so his old truck wouldn’t roll
And I bet he had the shadows of old pogroms on his soul
Of all the many millions he knew of one a least
An uncle, brother, nephew, a neighbor or a niece

I heard his wife took her own life in a very painful way
By drinking lye or DDT on a bleak, besotted day
Other’s lives are mysteries we cannot fathom well
I guess she changed a hell to heaven or heaven into hell

We don’t know where he came from and we don’t know where he went
But he still lives in our memories as strange and old and bent
And when I think about him now, I’d really like to know
Would he be surprised we remember him from 60 years ago?

Getting The Cows

Co' Boss

“Co’ Bos, Cooo’ Bos”, we used to call when the cows weren’t at the gate
At the hilltop just below our house, when we were running late
If they weren’t there, we’d walk and run by the “crik” bed up the hill
Through sparkling dew, wet wild flowers and the song bird’s morning trill

Getting up at six o’clock in the morning sun or rain
We had to get the cows and milk before the school bus came
Our cow dog Prince, would bark and swing his broken leg around
As we worked the cows out through the trees and brought them slowly down

The old cow path’s were there before first mule and wagon tracks
And settlers planted buckwheat all through the hills out back
Began by Indians hunting game all through those rolling hills
And I bet in just a little while, I could find them for you still

But we never thought of that back then as we strived to get chores done
Just tried to get those damned cows milked, then school and have some fun
Because the girls were miles away except for those in school
So village kids thought school a drag but rural kids thought it cool

Johnny Goodmonk rode for hours on an old gray Ford farm tractor
To court the girls out in the hills and get what he was after
And so the spring and summer days rolled smoothly into fall
And every day we brought the cows inside and milked them all

One time in school, a teacher said, trying to wound my pride
“Whoever smells like cow manure, I wish you’d go outside.”
I left the class and slowly said, “It’s true I’ve stepped in shit,”
But it’s only on the outside, but you, you’re full of it.”

Prof bounced me from the school again and this time not for smoking
To say teachers were full of it was pretty much verboten
So I got a school vacation for two late springtime days
When I got up each morning, guess what I had to say

You guessed it, “Co Bos, Co Bos” to get the cows to come
And then I worked for two full days hard labor on that farm
But I guess I learned a lesson as I stayed from school those days
Nothing’s often good to do, and always good to say.

The Milk Check

The Milk Check Came Today

Brought up on a dairy farm in the Catskills in New York
We always had enough to eat with beef and veal and pork
With veggies from the garden and milk from Jersey cows
I guess we lived a life style that’s called subsistence now.

But always short of money, we couldn’t buy most things for cash
And there always were a lot more days than dollars in our stash
The milk checks came out twice a month, the fifteenth and the first
And sometimes weeks were not too bad but sometimes weeks were worse

When we needed clothes for senior trips, we usually sold a cow
Which seems so self-defeating when I think about it now
By trading in the future for what we needed right away
The money just got smaller when it came to milk-check day

So we charged some things at Bailey’s Store, then across the road at Cook’s
And we charged our gas at Raymond Brown’s and got by hook or crook
Until our mother softly said, “I guess we now can pay.
“Wally Stryker brought the mail, the milk check came today.”

“The weights are off, the price is wrong, the butter fats too low”
Our Dad would say ‘bout every time in words both loud and slow
So Mom would firmly tell us kids, “Better go outside and play.”
“Your Dad has got to pay the bills, the milk check came today.”

At his battered home-made desk, I still hear and see my Dad
As he pulled old bills from pigeon holes and paid with what he had
The checks he wrote left handed, as he shooed us kids away
Sustained the farm and family when the milk check came that day.

So we milked the cows each morning and we milked the cows each night
In the winter time we shoveled shit, baled hay in summers bright
I think I started planning then so I ‘d never have to say
“I guess we now can pay the bills, the milk check came today.”

So I grubbed my way through college, driving truck and digging ditch
With luck, I got some real good jobs, some folks would call us rich
But I guess I’m only richer now in quite a different way
When long ago I heard these words, “The milk check came today.”

That damned old farm has branded me with thoughts I can’t dispel
And leaves me with these tales & lies I always have to tell
Sometimes at night before I sleep old sounds and words hold sway
Like “fit to eat” & “co’ bos’” & “the milk check came today”……………...

Hayden Clark Hubbard's First Haircut, April, 2006

First Haircut April, 2006, Portland, Oregon.

Siblings With Cousins: 1945

1945 Maryilyn Ann, Douglas Maynard, Paul Ellis, Barry Taylor Gerald Elmer

A Life Time Ago...Mine..

. The Horses: Dick & Dan. The Dog: Vicki. The Kids: Gerald Elmer & Marilyn Ann. Our Father: Clifton John. About 65 Years Ago On Hubbard Hill. Dirt Road, No Electricity, No Bathroom, The Car In The Garage Was Broken Down, In The Middle Of World War II.

Cutting Corn 1940

From left to right: Our father, Clifton J, is on the tractor. Marilyn Ann and I are standing in front of the steel wheel. Uncle Johnny Haskin is in the white shirt and Albert Reed is to the right. My father was 32, younger at the time than both my sons now.

In 1940: Only a third of American farms had electricity. Our's did not. The U.S population was 131.6 million. Only 4.2% of Americans could not read. Fanklin Delano Roosevelt was elected to a third term. The Selective Service System was created by Congress, requiring all American men between the ages of 21 and 36 to register for military service. Walt Disney released Fantasia. Color televison, Jeeps and Bugs Bunny were new. Vermont widow Ida May Fuller received the first Social Security check for $22.14.

At noon on October 1 the Pennsylvania Turnpike, the first modern highway in the United States, opened; local feed-and-tallow dealer Homer D. Romberger takes the first ticket. By October 6 the highway has its first traffic jam.

Ringo Star, Tom Brokaw, Ted Koppel, Peter Fonda, Mario Andretti, Chuck Norris, Anita Bryant, Al Pacino, Ricky Nelson, Mary Jo Kopechne, Martin Sheen, Raquel Welch, John Lennon, Cliff Richards, Bobby Knight, Bruce Lee, Richard Pryor, Gary Gilmore, Dionne Warwick and Frank Zappa were born in 1940.

Leon Trotsky, founder of communism, Robert Pershin Wadlow, the tallest man in the world at the time, and F. Scott Fitzgerald died....and I was two years old.

Click On The Picture For A Larger View.

Frances Marietta Hubbard and Her Three Oldest: Marilyn Ann, Gerald Elmer, & Clifton LaVerne. Probably about 1939 or 1940. 

Last Game At Gilboa Central Talking Blues

Last Game At Gilboa Central Talking Blues

I played four years of basketball for Gilboa Central High

Though surely not a super-star, I pretty much got by
By playing heavy “d” full court press and man to man
My speed and fundamentals made our coach one of my fans

Behind the back with passes, both hands could dribble well
But every time the game got tight, my shots would go to hell
But still I started every game and did outscore my man
But never really hit the “groove” like better players can

Walt Micha was our sixth man who worked hard to excel
Had all the fundamentals, a good “set” shot as well
He always played consistently if games were lost or won
He always was a real nice guy, gentle, kind and fun.

The home game that was next to last, I played my usual time
Then walked my girl friend to her bus, then I walked back to mine.
And then to be about as dumb as dumb young men can get
As I sauntered to my bus, I lit  a cigarette

And just before I climbed aboard I did my best James Dean
And toward the school, I snapped that butt, the flip was high and clean
The fiery sparks lit up the night, “Man”, I thought, “That’s neat!”
Until that cigarette hit down an inch from Coach Hub’s feet

Hub came storming to the bus: “I think you burned my pants.”
“You can’t play basketball and smoke.” “There is no second chance.”
“On Monday, turn your gear in, right now, you’re off the squad.”
So the last game of my senior year, Walt Micha got the nod.

In the bleachers with my girl, I watched the game ensue
As Walter threw up lots of shots and most of them went through
He played the game he knew he could, did everything just right
And most agreed was MVP in the last game on that night

And there I sat a spectator, my senior year’s last game
James Dean, the dark, and the evil weed were all I had to blame
And here’s a thought I can’t put down, no matter how I reason
If Walt had started in my place? We’d have had a better season….

Siblings 1949 Or 50

Gerald Elmer & Marilyn Ann Ready For Marilyn's 8th Grade Graduation. I hated those damned pants.......