Life Sketches Saying goodbye to Bert, man’s best friend Bert always watched me, even though he didn’t let on. He was an Irish setter and thought his only purpose was to hunt birds. I’d come home from work and peek through the fence to see him lounging upside down in the grass. Then I’d enter the yard and as soon as he’d see me he’d jump to his feet, his old bones grinding and start hunting up the mourning doves…
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Life Sketches Vivid memories were made working on the farm Of all the farms I worked on as a boy, the most memorable was the old Borden Farm, which was on the east side of Canadarago Lake outside of Richfield Springs. By the time I came along, it had recently been sold to Bill and Shirley Weingates. Back then, they were milking about 200 cows on one of the biggest operations in the area. The first job I had was…
Life Sketches ‘Impetuous 30s’ led to Richfield Springs farm In what my dad later referred to as his “impetuous 30s,” we left Brooklyn one summer and headed for Richfield Springs to stay with my father’s older brother William and his wife Ruta. One afternoon, Dad returned to Uncle William’s house, his car steaming after a long trip. “I’m buying a farm,” he announced as we all sat at a big round oak dinner table. “A farm?” Uncle William said. He…
Life Sketches The amazing mind-reading machine claims a victim Sometimes my father would sit in his chair, lost in thought, for hours. I’d often wonder what he was thinking about. Maybe it was about my mother who had a nervous breakdown several years before and was still in the hospital. He used to take me in his yellow taxi to country auctions, where he’d buy things that we would need on the farm he would buy some day. Even as…
Life Sketches Whistling with my fingers, thinking of songs By TERRY BERKSON • Special to www.AllOTSEGO.com These days, much more than ever, there seems to be music playing in the background of almost every dramatic television program. Years ago an experimental show called Cop Rock was aired for a while. It blended the drama with musical numbers. The songs were about what was happening in the story. I thought it was a great idea but at that time it didn’t…
Life Sketches Raccoon in the hen house starts raucous battle The other day I finished weeding the garden and walked out to the chicken coop to water and feed my birds and collect their eggs. Disappointment hit me when I opened the door and found a dead chicken sprawled out on the floor with a leg half chewed off. I had left the chute leading to the yard open overnight as I had been doing for the last several days.…
Life Sketches Pen pal letters brought good news from France For several years my friend Charlie ran an international pen pal business that he had inherited from his father. When I expressed some interest in the many countries people were writing from Charlie asked if I’d like a free subscription for my daughter and I accepted. “You pick out the country and the pen pal,” Charlie said. I’ve always been a Francophile so I chose France and a girl named…
LIFE SKETCHES by TERRY BERKSON In search of pigeons just like Marlon Brando’s birds The other night I watched a rerun of “On the Waterfront,” starring Marlin Brando. I had forgotten that the character he played was named Terry, like me. When I was about 13 and saw the movie for the first time, I was so impressed with Brando that I had to own pigeons, like the character he played. His coop was on a flat roof. Mine had…
LETTER from TERRY BERKSON Otsego Lawman, Cunningham, Served Otsego County With ‘Sleuth-Like’ Attention John L. Cunningham became a New York State Trooper in 1917. He was among the 232 selected men who made up the first wave of the newly formed organization that would serve to uphold the law in rural areas under the leadership of Major George Fletcher Chandler. Up until that time Cunningham, who was originally from Glens Falls, worked as a shirt cutter for 18 years. No…
LETTER from TERRY BERKSON For Want Of A Rack… I had it all planned. We’d fly to Florida on a Saturday, settle into the motel and then head for the flea market where, if lucky, I’d find a used bike to ride for the rest of our vacation. “What are you going to do when it’s time to go home?” my wife, Alice, asked. “I don’t care,” I said, “as long as I have use of a bike while we’re…