Memories of Nile NY, golfing for Jason Dunham, and a poem
By Chuck Wiser, I write the words to share what my eyes see and my heart feels
If you happen to have a pool or have access to one, this summer has been an exceptional year to take advantage of that pool. Rain has been minimal, and sunlight has been maximum. I cannot swear to the number or longevity but I’m thinking, or imagining, that I have been in the pool on consecutive days well over 40 or 50 days, and still counting. I don’t always stay in the pool very long but at least a dive in, take a couple of laps then back out would be a normal routine.
I cannot float. I’ve tried. People have tried to explain how to do it, but I cannot. When I lay on my back and stretch out in an attempt to float, my feet, followed by my legs sink to the bottom. My wife is as buoyant as a fishing bobber. She can float for hours it seems. It looks so relaxing and enjoyable that I want to mimic it. I can’t.
Because of that shortcoming, or maybe the cause of it is my need to actively be doing something to make me want to extend my time in the pool. When growing up in Nile, NY we had a stream at the back edge of our residence and though it feeds eventually into VanCampen Creek, which then continues into Friendship, then Belmont and finally the Genesee River, and beyond it doesn’t appear to have a name. In research to continue with this topic I downloaded a map showing the creeks in the Allegany County area. While prominently displayed on the map as it feeds into Van Campen Creek, it does not show a name. Taking “poetic license” I guess I will call it Nile Creek.
I could just as well have named it “Wiser’s Summer Playground” as I spent many, many days in that creek when growing up in Nile. In my earliest Nile youth, the creek used to feed a business, which now escapes my memory, but it was behind “Miner Green’s” house. It was made to “pond up” with a water supply to an old water turbine at a grist mill. Road construction or build up of some kind took the pond away leaving us with just the creek. I, and many other “Nile kids” would be in or around that all day long. Jumping and diving was my thing, and I was in and out of the water incessantly. Jumping into a creek between tree branches, or off the top of the “Trestle Bridge” was how I occupied my time. Shown here is a photo of the old bridge that was replaced in the late 50’s. This bridge connects to the old “Main Street” in Nile adjacent to Times Square. In the background is the old church that eventually became our home before our taking over ownership and moving into the Nile Store. Memories abound even now as I gaze upon that old bridge. The top of that bridge was also a launch point for jumping into the creek.
Part of what also triggered the thoughts and writings about my childhood in Nile was the recent obituary of another former Nile resident.
Lawrence Higby Obituary
ALLEGANY – Lawrence Arthur Higby, of Allegany, passed away Monday (July 14, 2025) at the VA Medical Center of Buffalo, unexpectedly, after a long illness. Larry was born in Olean on May 19, 1947, the son of the late Vernon and Elizabeth Little Higby. Larry was a graduate of Cuba Rushford High School. Upon graduation, he joined and served two and a half years in the U.S. Army and was deployed to Vietnam during that time.
“Larry” was an early Nile resident whose family owned and ran the Nile Store. His older brother Mark was a friend and former classmate. Mark was tragically taken way too early in life as his death, while serving in the Military, shocked us all. The details and, or cause of death, was never shared to us, but this early death of a friend was the first real heartbreak blemish on my soul. RIP Larry and Mark.
Changing to more lighthearted topics having already mourned once again, reveals the motive for the “grocery deals” hinted in todays Wrambling title. Serving my chauffer time earlier this week taking my oldest son Todd on a shopping trip to Olean, I dropped him off at Tops in Olean whilst I ventured into the CVS store to pick-up my/our first ever CVS prescription. I’ll come back to that, but continue on, with the grocery shopping story. Todd, at my request bought me a couple of 8 Packs of Coke. Forgetting that my flavor choice was Caffeine Free Diet Coke, he bought me a couple of the 8 packs of just regular Coke. Later when I made a trip to the Wellsville Tops with the intent of exchanging them for the ones I wanted, I stopped at the customer service desk to begin the exchange. I put my two 8 packs on the counter and the service “rep” told me to just grab a couple of replacements. As I did so I noticed a B2G1 sign on the shelf. Back at the desk I told the “rep” about the sign and explained that these were bought in the Olen store and asked if perhaps they had the same deal. He said to wait while he checked, and he went down the pop aisle. When he returned, he had another (the third) 8 pack in hand. He said it was a B2G1 deal and so I was entitled to the extra 8 pack. I told him that my son may have failed to give me the other if he had it but he said it didn’t matter, and I was “good to go” with all three.
Speaking of CVS above, when the Rite Aid store in Olean closed down finally (sadly) they had automagically transferred all our prescription information to the CVS store there in Olean. I’m not sure we got a vote in that deal, but I had the opportunity to visit the store to pick up a prescription. My first dealing and encounter with that store and its personnel was very positive. I am hopeful that the “great service” that we experienced at Rite Aid would continue. I will sorely miss Cheryl and Christy from the old Rite Aid store.
Grammar Groans. Again, I visit the topic of Grammar as I noted a significant spelling “Whoops” in my laptop reading yesterday. There was a poster advertising an upcoming event which I will not identify, but on which a significant word thereupon was “mis-spelt.” If you are going to publish it, or worse, pay someone to produce your sign, then either assure you that they have checked, or check yourself before or as soon as you discover the error. I realize that an error of that sort doesn’t bother some, or maybe most others, but to let it go without change shows some kind of disregard. Two examples of signage woes have been written about previously and one involved a “lettering” on the side of a commercial vehicle that contained a significant error, and another which was a mis-lettering of a sign displayed prominently in front of a Wellsville business establishment, which they begrudgingly replaced, but with their expressed displeasure at my commenting on it publicly. The only reason I did that, within an early Sun Wrambling, was the humor that it gave me. On public display for thousands to read daily isn’t as bad as my writing about it, I guess.
Tis the season for golf tournaments and I will be participating in the Jason Dunham tournament at the Wellsville Country club this weekend. I live for these summer golf tournaments and get into every one that I can afford or get sponsorship for. Why do I love these so much? Because it allows me to play in a competitive sports environment where my own lack of expertise is picked up and carried by three other teammates. My golf game is very erratic (a mis-spelling of that would be erotic). I am capable of the worst of the worst tee shots or dubbed fairway shots imaginable. But then. Perhaps even on the very next hole, I can pull off a shot that would make even a “Pro” proud. Examples of that would be hitting the drive on a par four-hole, downhill almost 400 yards (because of the hill and the ball rolling) and putting it about four feet from the hole. My son sank the putt for the Eagle BTW. A memory of a shot even better than that was an “Ace” shot by departed friend Clark Perry when the Six S course in Belfast was still in existence.
Clark hit a good drive right down the middle of the fairway on a 400-yard hole, but the green was not visible as it was down over a little knoll. As we reached the brim of the knoll and looked over to see where the ball might be we couldn’t see it. There was a pond on one side, so we continued to look. One of the team members. Perhaps Rod, Clark’s son, suggested that we look in the hole. Sure enough, there it was. A hole in one is rare on a “par 4” hole. But then again Clark and his memory is in and of itself, a rare pleasure to recall.
Smell Check…err, I mean Spell Check, doesn’t like the term par 4 so I had to place it in “”””’s.
My wife recently found a unique digital “Corner Clock,” that looked pretty good. It displayed the time on each side of the corner. I loved it and suggested (strongly) that she buy it. “She would”; she replied, but pointed out that we didn’t have any corners that it would fit on. Unbelieving, foolish me, I started looking around for a corner. She (as usual) was correct. The only “external” corners that were available had corner “moulding” strips (another Smell Check disfavor).
I guess I’ve Wrambled enough to put you all to sleep so will sign off for this week leaving you with one of my favorite poems, mainly because it brings back so many memories. Friendship Homecomers (Old Timers wasn’t acceptable to some) is approaching at the end of the month and so I may be able to see some old friends.
I will leave you now with a poem and picture straight from my heart.
You can contact Chuck Wiser to wramble on yourself, or talk about the old days anytime, IM.Wiserdad@gmail.com
