Saturday - March 13, 2010

A link from Vilmar

Oh sure, they called it something else. Something all fancy, named after some toff Lord So and So. But where the Susquehanna met the Chenango there was water and dirt. And above them in the sky is the pivot point for nearly every weather system that comes across the northeast. Which means double the usual amount of precip almost always. It’s also the only decent sized bit of flat valley for miles and miles, surrounded by mountains on all sides; it’s uphill in all directions, so all the water came to us.

They told us the official school colors were green and white, but we knew better. The real colors were grey and brown, reflecting the clouds above and the mud below. Freshmen were quickly introduced to an odd variety of high topped footwear called “duck shoes”. And urged to buy a golf-sized windproof umbrella and a stadium length parka, woolly mittens and the biggest Champion sweatshirt they could find. Nobody listened. You know how upperclassmen are, always trying to play a fast one on the noobs. Besides, they’d all been up to campus in the summer, and it was lovely. It was still green and mild in August when their parents dropped them off, and only the slightest hints of early fall were showing a few weeks later at the first school holiday of “Rusha-Home-a”. Even on the bus trip back after that weekend, 200 miles upstate from The City, and you hardly even needed a light jacket.

And then Monday came, and the sunlight went away, the clouds arrived, and the weather began. Every year. And it never stopped.

The first year I was up there we had 11” of snow on October 8th. I have a whole series of pictures of Halloween snowmen. One year, living off campus, when the snow started to melt away in late April, we saw this lump out by the street. What on earth? It turned out to be the Christmas tree we’d put out for pickup in January. It had been buried the whole time. Winter snows were followed by rain. Never ending rain. One year is rained for 44 days in a row. All day, all night, never ending cold hard rain and wind. Six solid weeks.

At some point in April, when the never ending wet, dim, cold started to cause depression and thoughts of suicide, there was the annual campus event called the Stomping Of The Coat. A short festival, and excuse to pass a bottle around outside. Sort of a reverse rain dance, a tantrum against the sky. Enough! We can’t take it any more!! I’ve lived in this damn parka since October and I’m sick of it!! The festival often had to be held indoors because of the weather.

“Spring” was this concept that only existed on the calendars. I’ve seen it snow as late as the 3rd week in June up there. But almost always the snow would melt, and the rains would cease, and the sun would come out and let the grass rush to green up and the flowers rocket out of the ground ... just in time for finals week. So that nobody had a chance to enjoy the brief nice weather. And when the parents came up that 3rd Sunday in May, it was always warm and lovely. Just like that drop-off weekend in August had been. They never believed their kid’s tales; this is a lovely campus and a fabulous climate!

Next fall, those returning for their Sophomore year would try and tell the incoming freshmen what they were in for, and to introduce them to an odd variety of footwear called “duck shoes”. They didn’t listen. They never did.




And we had our Casey, a bit of a local legend. And supposedly one of those farm teams back in the long ago had gone by that famous soggy name. Not officially of course. Likely they were called the Triplets or somesuch.

Local legends? Probably. What the heck, people need something to believe in, and sometimes even cartoon dinosaurs and cavemen on everything isn’t enough. Fun, but not enough.

Gosh, I haven’t had a good pile of halupkies in ages. Or those great pork spiedies that had marinated for days and then got flash burned on the grill.

Posted by Drew458     on 03/13/2010 at 10:37 PM   
Filed Under: • Fun-Stuff •  
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Not that very many people ever read this far down, but this blog was the creation of Allan Kelly and his friend Vilmar. Vilmar moved on to his own blog some time ago, and Allan ran this place alone until his sudden and unexpected death partway through 2006. We all miss him. A lot. Even though he is gone this site will always still be more than a little bit his. We who are left to carry on the BMEWS tradition owe him a great debt of gratitude, and we hope to be able to pay that back by following his last advice to us all:

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It's been a long strange trip without you Skipper, but thanks for pointing us in the right direction and giving us a swift kick in the behind to get us going. Keep lookin' down on us, will ya? Thanks.

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