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Praetorium Honoris

Saturday, October 27, 2018

Time Travel


The Missus Herself and I had the occasion to head north for my Mom's birthday a couple of weeks ago. At the time I was still monocular of vision so m'lady was handling the driving chores. Gave me the chance to see more of the countryside than I normally do when making that trip. Through necessity, while driving I tend to pay more attention to the traffic and the road itself than I do the scenery.

This year the foliage, for which so many leaf peepers flood the northern parts of New England at this time of year, wasn't as nice as it sometimes is in mid-October. For instance, there are three to five big maples at this one bend of the road as one travels up Route 12 towards Bellows Falls, town of my birth, which turn a magnificent gold color in some years. This year, they were a faded green. They may not change much at all this year. It happens like that.

Growing up on a hillside in Vermont, with numerous hills and a distant mountain on view outside my window, I have to admit, there were years I took the magnificent display of autumn colors for granted.


That's the ancestral dwelling of my clan. I was raised in that house which my brother, The Olde Vermonter, now calls home. My Dad built that stonewall, our cat Tommy, black as night, would sit on that corner of the wall in the foreground to the left of the telephone pole and wait for us to come home on those days we visited my grandparents.


As we'd come onto our street (at the bottom of the hill in the photo above, typically at night), we could see Tommy's eyes glowing from the headlights of Dad's car. He'd wait until we drove by and into the driveway before he would run to greet us. That cat was dog-like, some would say, in his devotion to his human family. While I'll be the first to admit that not all cats exhibit that sort of behavior, the ones I've lived with always seemed to.

But as you can see, I grew up surrounded by trees. As I said, some years the magnificence of the view from our front window was taken for granted. But every now and then, you'd just stop, look out over the hills and it would take your breath away. The golds, the deep reds, the lighter shades of red, contrasted with the dark green of the fir trees and pines, made a young lad feel good to be alive.

Some years it would be like this...
...and some years the colors were more muted.
The opening photo, taken in Winchendon, Massachusetts, is a town about 100 miles north of where I live now. We always pass through there going to Mom's and returning home again. I remember going through Winchendon as a child, probably when we would head to Massachusetts to visit friends of my parents who lived in Sudbury. The first time I went through Winchendon after retiring from the Air Force, I noted that the rocking horse was still there. But it seemed different. Through the magic of the Internet, I found this -
Morton E. Converse started his business career in Converseville, New Hampshire, manufacturing acids. In 1873, he purchased a nearby mill to make wooden products. Apparently he started making toys there, but soon teamed with Orland Mason of Winchendon to form the Mason & Converse Company, which lasted until 1883. Converse then partnered with his uncle, Alfred C. Converse, and Converse Toy & Woodenware Company was formed. In 1887, the company changed its name to Morton E. Converse & Company. It remained in business until 1934.

Converse made a great variety of toys, including Noah's Arks, doll furniture, kiddie riding racers, hobby horses, floor whirligigs, drums, wagon blocks, building blocks, pianos, trunks, ten pins, farm houses, and musical roller chimes. Such a large number of toys were made in Winchendon that it became known as Toy Town.

The original Giant Rocking Horse was built in 1912 by Morton Converse. The 12-foot grey hobby horse was named Clyde, and made from nine pine trees. It was a copy of the company’s #12 rocking horse. In 1914, Clyde entered the local parade to celebrate the town’s 150th anniversary. Clyde was moved to the railroad station for about 20 years. Then in 1934, he moved to the edge of the Toy Town Tavern for about 30 years. After that, he was put in storage and fell into disrepair. A replica, Clyde II, was sculpted in 1988 using the original as a model. He is now on display in a covered pavilion. (Source)
Never knew his name was Clyde.

Heading up north to visit the family is a lot like time travel. In Winchendon there is a McDonald's where we always stop for a break on the trek north. One year, when heading home for Christmas, we brought our cat Pat along. He rode in his carrier in the back with the girls and was content. He'd always protest for the first few miles, but then he'd settle down and enjoy himself.

When we stopped at that McDonald's that Christmastime, I went in to acquire some beverages for the tribe. I remember that there was fresh snow on the ground, it was cloudy and cold. There was a hint of more snow to come, perhaps later that day. As I walked out to the car, I could see that the girls had let Pat out of his carrier and he was sitting in the back window of our little Hyundai, just watching the world go by.

Now every time we stop there, I look to the spot where we parked that day, and in my mind's eye I can still see Pat in the back window, with the girls behind him, laughing with the joy of it all.

That had to be sixteen years ago. That was also Pat's very last Christmas. He was born in Germany and came home with us to New England. He only lived ten short years, but gave us all an entire lifetime of cherished memories. I can't believe he's been gone fifteen years now. Time, it flies. (I daresay I've mentioned that before.)

So going home, it's like time travel. There are shades of the people, pets, and things that once were, but are no longer. They live on though, in my mind, and in my heart. Like the river which flows to the sea, that which was is no more, yet lingers. It's different water, but it's the same river.

The Connecticut River from Route 12 in New Hampshire, that's Vermont on the other side.

No matter the changes, no matter the time which has passed, I will always remember those who have gone before, and the way things once were.

Memories, I cherish them. With my family, my wife, my children and grandchildren, we make more everyday. I am truly blessed. That, I never take for granted...



34 comments:

  1. Took a drive Up North on Monday to visit the cemetery that my parents are buried in, the town where I grew up. Colors are mostly past now going up, lots of bare trees and the color is mostly yellow. Dad's marker from the VA was in, spelled correctly for which I gave thanks, and visited the old homestead. First time there since the parents left town to come live with me. The current owners knocked down the old garage and put up a new one bigger than the old one and house together. The house was remodeled, one end is twice as large as what I grew up in. Ya, the heart remembers what was and the eyes see what is. For all that's happened so far I give thanks every day. A thoughtful post Sarge, nicely done sir.....and good choice of photos..... :)

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  2. I went to new England for the first time this summer & stayed until the leaves changed then took Hwy 2 back towards the west. There are a lot of rocks in up that way!

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    1. Sort of a local specialty, growing rocks. About the only place you can dig more than a couple of inches and not hit rock is along the rivers.

      The glaciers brought them down from Canada. I've asked, our friends to the North said we can keep 'em.

      Hope you enjoyed your stay Rob.

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    2. By the way, I forgot to write that when you get out this way, you must stop by to see us. It might work out that we could show you some of the Oregon coast.

      PLQ

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    3. Drove through New England twice, or rather my father did. Late fall was nice, early (heavy) winter was not. Though after leaving Newfoundland (CAF/USN/NSA site at Gander) during heavy, heavy snowfalls after a a couple of years of snowfalls not seen since the 60's, even winter new England was fairly nice except that the heater in the guest single-wide trailer at Winter Harbor, Maine went out and left us glad for sleeping bags. For the life of me, I can't remember why we didn't spend the night in our own camping trailer, except maybe it was already run out of LP and goofball blue laws in Maine wouldn't let us fill it until Monday? I can't imagine why RI when New Hampshire not far away? It's going the way of Oregon thanks to deep blue state refugees that can't connect cause and effect (reminds me of parts of Oregon, BTW), but RI, VT, and MA are hopelessly fare gone, aren't they?

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    4. I can't believe I missed a bunch of comments on this post! I've been asleep at the switch.

      Little Rhody hasn't gone completely off the rails yet. Even though our Congressional delegation is rather pathetic. One outright leftist, a sanctuary city goon, and...

      We're still not as bad as Connecticut.

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  3. Some of those photos look as though they could have been taken in the part of the world where I now live.

    I've had cats who behaved much like your Tommy; even had one named Tom. Miss them ( and the dogs too ), I do.

    Thanks for the post.
    Paul L. Quandt

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    1. I've seen pictures of the Oregon coast, beautiful. I need to get up there one of these days.

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    2. Relooking at your photos, our trees have the yellow leaves but no red leaves that I saw on our trip into the big town to do shopping today.

      Paul

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    3. Not many reds here either, very spotty this year. Some trees are still green but with some bright red spots where the sun hits them. But not many.

      Ah well, next year.

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    4. My impression, based on a sample size of one, is that the Northeast this year falls in to the “muted” category. Could have been all the gray skies and rain though.

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    5. That's a fair assessment, muted. I think we'll have to wait another year for the really spectacular foliage.

      Have been a lot of gray skies and rain too.

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  4. Read a quote just now:
    "It's funny how life is lived forward -- and understood backward."

    Cats like you mention are pretty special.
    I’ve known a couple.

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    1. I like that quote, very true.

      Cats like you, I sense that.

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  5. My first cat, Christoper, an orange tabby, used to follow me to the end of the block when I went to school. And he'd meet me at the end of the block, lots of days, and walk me home. Not close, just keeping an eye out for me.

    He wasn't the first cat in my life, but he was my first cat. He set a mark not reached by many afterwards.

    We've got the stupid sweetgums changing colors and dropping leaves all over the place, along with their little spiked balls of death. And the ornamental ginger at the corner is melting and browning, something they do when the temp gets below 60 or so.

    Winter is coming...

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    1. What a fine name for a cat! A special cat as well.

      I'd never heard of the sweetgum until today, you can keep 'em down there.

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    2. Sweetgums are a soft hardwood and are one of the stupidest trees ever. They'll grow taller than their trunk can support, survive hurricane force winds and then crack in half when a squirrel farts three feet away. Punky wood even sucks for firewood. It'll burn, but that's about all you can say for it.

      'Stopher was an unusual cat. Bit of a pisser, he enjoyed thrashing the neighborhood dogs. A grumpy old man even in his younger days, his attitude was much improved when my mom used his chin as a wheel-chock for her Datsun (because Stopher wouldn't get out of the way.) Having his jaw wired shut and being handfed for a week sure tamed his pissy-ness.

      Watching him and Stupid II gang up on mockingbirds was fun. Stupid II would lay out where the mockingbirds would dive bomb him, and Stopher would go all Red Baron and pounce on their aggressive little butts. (Mockingbirds are like smaller even more annoying versions of crow-annoyances.)

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    3. I am familiar with mockingbirds, they are aggressive. I liked the cats teamed up on them. Heh.

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    4. My brother got a black cat on Adak, AK, that was more dog than cat in some ways. He would follow you at heel (and even complete strangers walking down the road between our house and the beach, usually recognizable by the heavy coats or parkas they were wearing while most were wearing flannel shirts or the younger ones polo shirts). He would drape himself over your arm like a leopard on a tree limb and let himself be promenaded. The first time I took him down through the dunes to the (black sand) Kuluk Beach, the moment he saw the ocean, he got very, very nervous. I headed back to the house and his little legs were trotting a mile a minute in thin air, while he hung off my arm. A silly cat, he was. Had to rescue him once from a (murder?) of ravens once, who had him cornered in the snow against the dumpster. They'd pecked a bit of flesh out of him since he was surrounded on 180 degrees, and someone could always get him from the rear. They'd have had him eventually. Luckily it wasn't a bald eagle, who were as common as sparrows most other places. There'd have been kitty prints, spots of blood, a flurry of snow, and nothing. They took cats and chihuahas and miniature Yorkies, etc., in winter.

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    5. Another comment I missed, apologies Larry...

      I would not want to let small animals roam about outside with bald eagles on the loose!

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  6. You can go back to the old place, but not the same old place. Memories make it seem like yesterday, the present makes it seem like a million years ago.

    I may have mentioned that I grew up on a ranch. At one time, our cat herd numbered 26. All kinds of personalities. One particularly friendly male was all black with yellow eyes. When he was a wee sprog, I tied a piece of string to a small bell from an old baby's shoe to make a chase toy. It was his favorite. Named him Twinkle Toes.

    Another friendly gray male we named George. I hopped into the driver's seat of our surplus jeep one day, and George happened to wander over and hop in to check things out. He decided that the first class section was in my lap. So I gave him a little scratch, said to him "Well, gotta go" and fired up the jeep, figuring he would bail out. Nope. Just a little surprised at the noise. Without fail, jeep start up brought our two dogs on the run for a ride. George's eyes got a little wide when they piled in, but the dogs and cats were in mixed company every day, so OK, whatever.

    I put the jeep in gear and started to move, and George just sat there like he had been riding all his life. So for a time, we had this routine at jeep start up of the dogs coming on the run, and George hot on their heels. All in their places and off we'd go. The ranch was only 250 acres, so we were never that far from home. If I stopped somewhere to perform some chore, everybody bailed and wandered off to do animal things. The return trip never got much interest. A dog trot home was no big deal, but bit more of a hike for George. After a time, the jeep rides seem to lose their appeal.

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    1. Great tale RHT447.

      Seems our old Pat always made out that he couldn't stand riding in the car, he'd tolerate it but that was it. The one day one of my daughters told me that they used to take Pat out driving around the neighborhood, not in his kennel.

      Seems he liked sitting in the back window watching the world go by. He enjoyed his forays with the girls. Of course, they never took him to the vet, maybe that's why he didn't like riding with The Missus Herself and I.

      Jeep rides, how could those ever get old?

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    2. My brother's black cat loved car rides. He'd stand on the front bench with front feet on the dash looking forward, on the back seat with his head out the window like a dog, or in a sedan, curled up in the rear window. Our other cats dreaded car rides. My wife and mines cats dreaded car rides with the exception of their first ride home. After that, it was mournful, to say the least. Except for their very last ride to the vets. All three took exceptional interest in the scenery. Even the one that had been mostly blind for over a year had no interest in hiding in my wife's lap under a towel. All three truly seemed to know this was their last trip, and as much as I hate to anthropomorphize them without any objective evidence, they seemed to be not only okay with it (it was time), but deeply interested in taking a last look at the world when they had previously hid (once getting away and crawling under the passenger seat). You cannot tell me nor my wife (who is a self-professed atheist, while I am agnostic -- I don't pretend to have the physical senses nor intelligence nor wisdom to know for sure -- I know my limits) that those cats didn't know something (within the limits of a cat's knowing). There were other things that happened that were too odd to even mention. We've had some special cats, even the prototypical wildcat that others might have shot, but who completely fell in love with me after 4 tremulous, arm-scarring years.

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    3. For me cats are a very special animal. There is much they see which we cannot. I know this from experience.

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  7. Pretty doggone poetic there, Sarge!

    This being our first Fall in Colorado, I reveled at watching the trees turn, remembering my youth in Illinois, even though it means we'll have leaves to rake.

    And I just got back from another 1st Birthday Party in the family. Quite enjoyable to watch the kids play with their grandparents, and in this case, some GREAT grandparents.

    Cycle of life, I guess.

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    1. It's all good drjim. Colorado in the fall is lovely as I recall. Enjoy the time with family!

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  8. Katz is cool, Lazarus will have been gone 19 years next February. I still grieve. He was quite the critter.

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    1. You have spoken of him often, we never stop missing them.

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  9. Very good post Sarge,
    I explained to my wife that the leaves turned gold in the fall and got heavier, so naturally that's what causes them to fall to earth. Home was never really a place. It was wherever my folks lived at the time. So, many places were home but the two longest were in Carlisle (mother's parents) and Arlington. I had hoped to make one but I chose poorly.
    Here in the midwest the leaves didn't really changed. Those that fell off were green one day, brown the next and on the ground the following day. Trees are still mostly green.

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    1. Sorry I missed this earlier. Like I told Larry above, I've been asleep at the switch for a couple of days.

      Home is a pretty deep concept. I get what you mean about choices in life, I (somehow) chose very well. Been blessed in that respect. Kids are awesome too, I feel at home in many places.

      I remember times in Colorado and Nebraska where we went from green leaves, to brown, then none. All in the space of a week.

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  10. Enjoyed the pic of the Toy Town horse—saw it just last week while on pilgrimage to wife’s ancestral places. As a child, she spent summers there and on Laurel Lake, just across the border in Fitzwilliam. Bill the Shoe

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    1. Small world, Bill!

      Fitzwilliam, it's my "Welcome back to New Hampshire" place. Just seeing the name takes me there.

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