January 30, 1963
Cloudy, I did a big wash and hung some outside. Gerald and Roger went back to Albany for an apartment. David and Clifton went to Grand Gorge with Gerald's car. We didn’t hear anything from Doug so he must have gone to Great Lakes Naval Training Station. Gerald and Roger (Cohn) found a place to live in Latham.
Comment: Doug apparently left for the Navy for four years without Twittering, emailing, Facebooking, cell phoning, Blackberrying or even pay-phoning. Probably did not have access to a phone or the deal was if they did not hear from him, he was gone. A far cry from today's instantaneous communication.
Below, Doug and David in a home-made cart with casters. This must be in the early fifities. They used to push each other all over with this. Kinda yesterday's version of skateboards or Big Wheels.
In the background, a 1934 Ford that my father bought From Pinder's in Grand Gorge. It sat there wrecked for a long time. It was parked on the dirt road in front of the house and for some reason, ran away down the hill and crashed into a massive tree in the corner of the lot below the barn. It was totaled and we kids played in it all the time pretending to drive.
In the background is the "cross road" that leads to Conesville. All the empty hay fields and pastures are now grown up with trees. The lot directly beyond the car is "The Spring Lot" that I've blogged about. See below. I remember shooting at deer crossing the spring lot from the front porch of the house with a Savage bolt-action 30-30 with 150 grain bullets.
The foundation to the right of the car is where the two-story "wagon house" stood before we tore it down before it collapsed and, is where we re-assembled the "chicken house" as a garage.
Take a listen to "The Spring Lot" by clicking this link....Hubbard Music Mountain: The Spring Lot by Gerry Hubbard, David Hubbard Per...:
Take a listen to "The Spring Lot" by clicking this link....Hubbard Music Mountain: The Spring Lot by Gerry Hubbard, David Hubbard Per...:
The Spring Lot
The “Spring Lot” was three acres out southeast across the road
Beyond the “crik” with minnows, frogs, the barnyard with its loads
Some years we’d plant Sudan Grass, tall, billows, green, in waves
In other years, we planted corn. Between the rows, dark caves
Lairs, from which we’d “hide n’ seek” and hunt for dangerous game
The rustling winds and dank dark earth held fears we couldn’t name
The lot was close and in full view of folks from our front porch
And through the trembling grass or corn, light flickered, as a torch
One day I lay beside the spring in warm and tender sun
And overturned a rock to watch the insects’ frantic run
I pondered their perceptions in a world I couldn’t see
And wondered if their eyes and minds could see that it was “ME”
The “ME” who made the calls about their right to live or die
I thought that this was how we were when looked at through God’s eyes
And then I saw wild strawberries, a sweet and acrid taste
And left that rock turned over, the insects to their fate
I often think if there be gods, they must be like a child
Playing in a “Spring Lot” while we skitter, scared and wild
They’ll never know the why, the what, the wonder of our days
'Cause all they see are strawberries and blithely move away....
Beyond the “crik” with minnows, frogs, the barnyard with its loads
Some years we’d plant Sudan Grass, tall, billows, green, in waves
In other years, we planted corn. Between the rows, dark caves
Lairs, from which we’d “hide n’ seek” and hunt for dangerous game
The rustling winds and dank dark earth held fears we couldn’t name
The lot was close and in full view of folks from our front porch
And through the trembling grass or corn, light flickered, as a torch
One day I lay beside the spring in warm and tender sun
And overturned a rock to watch the insects’ frantic run
I pondered their perceptions in a world I couldn’t see
And wondered if their eyes and minds could see that it was “ME”
The “ME” who made the calls about their right to live or die
I thought that this was how we were when looked at through God’s eyes
And then I saw wild strawberries, a sweet and acrid taste
And left that rock turned over, the insects to their fate
I often think if there be gods, they must be like a child
Playing in a “Spring Lot” while we skitter, scared and wild
They’ll never know the why, the what, the wonder of our days
'Cause all they see are strawberries and blithely move away....
No comments:
Post a Comment