Grammar Groans, grins, giggles, and nearly a broken toe
By Chuck Wiser, I write the words to share what my eyes see and my heart feels
On my return from one of my many recent Olean shopping expeditions, basically so I could visit Walmart, I started my typical mental excursions recalling when or how I happened to remember many of the roadside East to West or West to East ventures. I now realize that very likely, readers of this “blog” might not be old enough to have seen, or traveled, those roads as they existed before this day and age. Those thoughts triggered the idea of me adding a recurring feature of my Wramblings to add to my repertoire that includes my Grammar Groans. In a way, my title is already halfway there as it alludes to Wrambling.
Each week I might toss in a “used to be’ (or usta be) fact or feature. For example: Rte. 417 between Wellsville and Bolivar used to be an even more windy (wine-dee) road but was straightened out under a major road construction project. Road with bends into the hillside area long since changed and now have “side roads” such as the Homestead Road right across from Baldwin Lumber on Rte. 417. Following is a “historical” noting of former road construction as stolen from my Google Search source. “…Therefore, the work to eliminate winding curves and create a straighter NY 417 mainly occurred in the late 1920s and 1930s. Further changes and extensions of NY 417 along the former NY 17 route took place in the 1960s, 1970s, and early 1990s as sections of the Southern Tier Expressway opened.
In the early 1960’s I was doing some “office work” and a little writing for the Friendship Volunteer under the tutelage of Friendship’s Marilyn Lester its Editor. On one occasion I was asked to ride along with a person who did some “pick-up – delivery” for the local paper. (more on that in a bit). Rte. 417 underwent some of the construction that took place to take out many of the curves built into the road in the 20’s or 30’s as the road wound around the hills and stream running through them. Oil well building and utilization as well likely played a role in the road development and physical signs of that industry abound as there are still many abandoned oil storage tanks and piping still visible hidden (mostly) by the hilly foliage. When I was blessed to be driving my ’79 Jeep “soft top” my buddy LJ Muscato (RIP) and I would ride around those hills in my jeep with the top removed.
As a side note…that Jeep – purchased on a Jeep looking excursion to the south lands accompanied by another now deceased friend John Green, had oversized 33” tires and though not having the greatest traction on some terrain, especially snow covered, they lifted the jeep far enough off the ground to clear obstructions. I loved “off-roading” in that jeep and especially following winding creek paths such as Knights Creek between Allentown and Scio, and even the Genesee River North of Rte. 9 (Knights Creek Road) between Belmont and Scio’s Back River Road, not close, but behind my house.
Grammar Groans, Grins or Giggles: In the sentences above I used two words that one must interpret their usage as they are spelled identically but pronounced and mean two different things.
The words were wound (injury or wrapped) and windy (with the wind versus twisting around).
Had I the opportunity I would teach “English with a grin” for my occupation. OK “class”- onward.
Keeping with the grammar theme, I have noticed a different symbolic method of punctuation recently. The comma, likely the most powerful and underrated piece of punctuation, is used for many things, and, as I did here, it is a pause or slight break. In musical composition the comma is used to indicate the possibility of “taking a breath”… usually. In other written publications I have recently noticed that a dash (-) mark is used to do pretty much what the comma does, in that it shows a separation of terms in a written phrase. I have been somewhat chastised previously for over use of the comma, and along with that the use of quote marks “-“. Why do I? Not only because “I can” but it is an effort to try and make my writings seem “conversational” rather than just script. I try to write, as I would speak. Conversationally you will, or can, pause, or wink and nod, or use gestures to add emphasis or separate thoughts. If we were speaking to each other and I said something parenthetically I might raise my arms and wiggle my fingers to indicate quote marks around what I said. I guess there may be one of those little icon type keystroke combinations like this 🙋♂️or these 🤷🤟to do just that. You “gotta” love those little emoticons. Writing conversationally is the antithesis of journalism that thwarts the intention of spell check or as I refer to it as auto-defect.
Referring to my earlier notation that I would add more to the conversation about delivering for the Friendship Volunteer, my pickup-delivery trip to Bolivar one summer was a courtesy ride from my eventual, wife’s father – who shall remain unnamed out of respect for my wife’s dislike of my use of anything of a personal nature which she is adamantly opposed to.
As I sit here, already becoming too warm as the sun reaches and warms the Sun-Bird Room, I keep getting distracted by Chaser’s antics at the Hummingbird feeder. In last weeks Wrambling, I gave the apparent guardian (or glutton) Hummingbird a name as he chases other birds away from the feeder. There used to be a ring attached to the pole that supports the sweet-water nectar feeder that was the favorite resting/guard duty spot for him. We removed that and it slowed him down a little but not for long. He now sits on the perch built into the sweet water feeder and is very active and diligent (greedy) in his chasing.
We have taken the Jelly feeders down already as the bees had overwhelmed them. I also destroyed the large hive they had built suspended at the right-angle corner of the eavestrough. In a Facebook conversation the other day many others mentioned bees having been a problem with them as well this year. I didn’t knowingly kill any (or many) bees out of my realization that they perform a significant nature’s function by their existence. We can co-exist as long as they leave my feeders, and me, alone. Typically, in the past the bees would build a hive/nest under the deck boards of our “pool deck.” The Brown Thrashers, newly-birds to us have re-populated but now have no jelly.
This year has been a boon for pool swimmers given our hot but not unbearable sunny days. I had a string of about 40 days or so getting into the pool for a quick, cooling dip, until yesterday. I was active and occupied attempting to resolve some added pain issues as I gave in and went to Jones Memorial Hospital for x-rays of a “toe jam” incident. Once again, I bobbed when I should have weaved when walking past our Deacons Bench, whose legs don’t go straight down but which are angled slightly outward. I “kicked” one of the legs one day last week whilst making the corner trip to head down the hallway to my “facility.” It remained very painful and swollen. Off to JMH.
The staff at the Jones Memorial (JMH) Urgent Care Center, which I finally found after having mistakenly gone to the Loder Street facility where I thought it was, was excellent. Service was very timely, and efficient, and including the time on the cold x-ray table I was in and out in less than two hours. No fractures, just internal tissue damage and I was instructed to rest, elevate, and ice-pack the toe.I had previously made an appointment with a local podiatrist but couldn’t get office visit time until next week. Upon my return home I called Dr. Gilfert’s office to advise that I was cancelling my appointment despite my visitation summary notes suggesting that I keep the appointment. Within minutes Dr. Gilfert called me personally and said he had reviewed my X-Rays and agreed that no office visit was required at this time but to let him know if there were any future complications. I was very amazed and pleased that he took the time to call me personally. We may be a small out of the way group of communities in this area, but we certainly have Big League medical support personnel and facilities.
One by one, hopefully, I am adding to the readership of the Wellsville Sun, from wherein you are reading this, or perhaps from the Facebook sharing of an article. I have mentioned my hometown Nile and Friendship many times in my Wramblings. I am proud to do so. Once again, I was reached out to, and this time by a resident, or former resident, of Friendship. Bill Doerler, recently having read one of my Wramblings, sent me a message regarding one such mention of the town(s). We struck up a conversation by exchanging notes back and forth over the past couple of days. Bill was the son of Karl Doerler whom I was familiar with as he used to own and run a vegetable stand on the Nile end of Pennsylvania Avenue. Karl was a farmer and along with his livestock he raised not only vegetables but a couple of fine children along the way. I knew most of them either directly or indirectly via marriage relationships of people that I did know. Bills sister Hilda married one of my Friendship Central School (FCS) teachers and track coach Bob Whitney. While the Doerler name isn’t quite as well known as that of Whitney is, there are many descendants of both, still in the area.
My “conlineversation” (my new word of the week) with Bill has been a rare and purely nostalgic flashback to my Nile days as we share many, many, mutually friended people. I don’t recall Bill specifically, but we actually rode the same bus, driven by Rodney Ruckle whose favorite name for me was “Rube.” I would ride the bus standing in the front with the duty of opening and closing the door to facilitate loading and unloading of the many Pennsylvania Avenue and Nile residents.
I owe a recent debt of thanks to Bill, and I foresee a long future of memory sharing and it is doubtful that either of us will run out of mutually remembered details to share. In a way, our recent “conlineversation” has helped to fuel my idea for a future on-going topic of writing about memories triggered by traveling certain roads or areas as I continue my Wrandom Alle-Catt Wramblings.
If you have any comments, questions or concerns email me at IM.Wiserdad@gmail.com. I thoroughly enjoy hearing “your story” which my story may have triggered or opened a memory of. I owe Andrew Harris, and all of you, for the pleasure and honor of writing for you.
PS: “conlineversation” is writing online, conversationally, as I like to do. PPS: I am attaching a Nile poem as a reach out and thanks to the Doerler family.
Reach out anytime with questions or curiosities anytime, chuckwiser@roadrunner.com
