Have you ever noticed that when the wind is blowing a certain way, a train whistle sound a whole lot different?
In the old days, someone would say “there will be rain before morning.” Others would point to other signs that would foretell rain. This was in the days before Doppler radar.
If their forecast turned out to be wrong, then they would have an answer for that, too. I still believe that our old timers who could predict the weather were generally on course. Now, with our global warming and other disturbances in the sky I sometimes wonder if anyone really knows what the weather will do.
When asked to my grandfather how he knew the rain would come he would reply that the train whistle had a different “shrill” to it.
Perhaps so, but the other evening while we were sitting on the porch and we heard a train approaching in the far distance it sounded faraway and lonesome the closer it got to our village, it was really loud and I recalled what my grandfather had told me. It was right. That night we had rain. The trains don’t blow their alarm near our house now that they are elevated, so a warning isn’t needed; we only hear them when they are approaching a crossing that hasn’t been elevated, which is a few miles from Canastota.
When we were babies, mothers would put us in our carriages after our morning feeding and bath and set us on the porch outside where we could nap and get fresh air. The mothers would complain about the train whistles until the babies would get used to the noise. Relatives who came for a visit or new residents who purchased a home near the railroad tracks soon had to become familiar with the noise and be able to sleep through it.
Back in those days peddlers came around with their vegetables and fruits calling out what they had to sell that day, letting those people at home know what they could purchase for their evening meal. Talk about freshness. The ice man who came before refrigeration, the meter man, dry cleaner who came for your clothes that needed to be cleaned. I can remember when the insurance man came to collect your monthly or weekly premium towards your life insurance. These people all came to your home while baby napped on the porch.
Think about it. When did you last see a baby carriage on a front porch or for that matter any place on a street? Babies ride in car carriers today. You see strollers, but hardly ever a carriage. And, in this day would you feel comfortable leaving a baby outside without an adult in attendance?
Are you old enough to remember when others while going into a grocery store or other store, left the baby outside the store in the carriage without anyone watching over the baby? Times have changed. There are not that many mothers who stay at home and care for the children, they have to work to make ends meet. Those that do are privileged.
Children are now fingerprinted, given instructions at home, take special classes in school on how to stay safe at playgrounds, or in public places.
My, how the world has changed.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
I remember horses on the streets of Canastota
Last month’s Lorenzo Driving Competition put me in mind of horses and how few there are in our local area. Perhaps on farms, but not in our village. To see a horse go down Canastota streets would certainly be a sight and an attraction for our young folks. The only time that happens is when we have a parade and horses are included in it.
But there are some of us who can still remember that there were horses living in our confines of the village. Namely on West Lewis Street, Roberts Street off from Mill Street and Barlow Street. As a small girl seeing these horses go past our home was still a curiosity and if we saw one coming we would run and tell the other kids in the neighborhood that it was coming by our houses. We do however remember the story of an aunt of ours who came to live in Canastota in horse driving days and was married to a blacksmith who was kept busy shoeing the animals. One time as she was driving her buggy across the Erie Canal lift bridge the horse got startled and ran away with her giving her a fright before finally getting it under control. My uncle decided the horse had to be “put down” because it wasn’t the first time that the horse had become violent and he felt it wasn’t safe for my aunt to handle him.
I happened to be a friend of the little girl that lived on Barlow Street with the horse. Every summer at least once that I knew of, the farm on the end of James Street located on Stroud Street had fields of hay. The gentleman who lived there would cut it and the man on Barlow Street would take his team and wagon and go and get a load for his animals. One vivid memory from my childhood was the thrill of being able to ride on the back of the wagon to get a load of hay with my friend. It was an experience I will never forget lumbering along with the team going for the hay and riding on the top of the load returning home right in the village waving to the people we passed along the way who were out doing chores around their houses or something. I don’t remember the names of the horses, but they were a gentle team and we helped water them when we got home and unloaded the hay.
All the horses I remember were for transportation or for working. The one on Roberts Street was owned by Angelo Canino. He was a produce man who went from street to street selling his cabbage, celery, tomatoes, oranges, bananas, potatoes or whatever he had fresh that day. In those days women were home and would hear him coming and go out to meet him with their change purses in hand to purchase fresh veggies and fruit for that night’s supper. He would make the rounds every day I think, but perhaps I don’t remember that accurately, because we were still little kids. We would only be interested in the ice man and chips we could beg from him on hot summer days. He was a welcome sight back in those days.
The other two horses I remember were mainly for transportation and family business. The one off of Mill Street had a rather long wagon and when the family went out there would be mom and dad on the seat and the rest of the family would sit on the sides or the back of the wagon with their feet dangling.
When and why the family moved from Mill Street I don’t know, but I wonder if it was because they were asked to by the village fathers. It would have to be a suggestion, however; the grandfather’s law protected them from being forced to move.
The gentleman who lived on West Lewis Street had his horse as an only means of transportation. He was in his late 60s or 70s and as we were told did not have the means to purchase a car, nor would he have had a driving license. His conveyance was a single- seated wagon.
He might have seemed eccentric because he was often seen riding with a stovepipe hat, either rubber farm boots or felt leggings and short rubber boots. No one ever questioned his attire and accepted it as normal for him. He attended church every Sunday and could quote the Bible by chapter and verse without any hesitation. I often sat in the congregation with my family and listened as the minister would ask him to tell the Scripture that was referred to on the bulletin. His neighbors thought dearly of him and often saw that he had a cooked meal and fresh vegetables, bread and other foodstuffs. His horse was not a problem for them as in those days it was accepted if you had a horse in your barn.
I know that there were quite a few residents in our village who enjoyed horseback riding, but their animals were stabled on farms outside of the village.
When Vernon Downs came into being, interest in horses returned . A few stables were built near our village and folks began traveling to Vernon nightly to see if they could win a race.
But there are some of us who can still remember that there were horses living in our confines of the village. Namely on West Lewis Street, Roberts Street off from Mill Street and Barlow Street. As a small girl seeing these horses go past our home was still a curiosity and if we saw one coming we would run and tell the other kids in the neighborhood that it was coming by our houses. We do however remember the story of an aunt of ours who came to live in Canastota in horse driving days and was married to a blacksmith who was kept busy shoeing the animals. One time as she was driving her buggy across the Erie Canal lift bridge the horse got startled and ran away with her giving her a fright before finally getting it under control. My uncle decided the horse had to be “put down” because it wasn’t the first time that the horse had become violent and he felt it wasn’t safe for my aunt to handle him.
I happened to be a friend of the little girl that lived on Barlow Street with the horse. Every summer at least once that I knew of, the farm on the end of James Street located on Stroud Street had fields of hay. The gentleman who lived there would cut it and the man on Barlow Street would take his team and wagon and go and get a load for his animals. One vivid memory from my childhood was the thrill of being able to ride on the back of the wagon to get a load of hay with my friend. It was an experience I will never forget lumbering along with the team going for the hay and riding on the top of the load returning home right in the village waving to the people we passed along the way who were out doing chores around their houses or something. I don’t remember the names of the horses, but they were a gentle team and we helped water them when we got home and unloaded the hay.
All the horses I remember were for transportation or for working. The one on Roberts Street was owned by Angelo Canino. He was a produce man who went from street to street selling his cabbage, celery, tomatoes, oranges, bananas, potatoes or whatever he had fresh that day. In those days women were home and would hear him coming and go out to meet him with their change purses in hand to purchase fresh veggies and fruit for that night’s supper. He would make the rounds every day I think, but perhaps I don’t remember that accurately, because we were still little kids. We would only be interested in the ice man and chips we could beg from him on hot summer days. He was a welcome sight back in those days.
The other two horses I remember were mainly for transportation and family business. The one off of Mill Street had a rather long wagon and when the family went out there would be mom and dad on the seat and the rest of the family would sit on the sides or the back of the wagon with their feet dangling.
When and why the family moved from Mill Street I don’t know, but I wonder if it was because they were asked to by the village fathers. It would have to be a suggestion, however; the grandfather’s law protected them from being forced to move.
The gentleman who lived on West Lewis Street had his horse as an only means of transportation. He was in his late 60s or 70s and as we were told did not have the means to purchase a car, nor would he have had a driving license. His conveyance was a single- seated wagon.
He might have seemed eccentric because he was often seen riding with a stovepipe hat, either rubber farm boots or felt leggings and short rubber boots. No one ever questioned his attire and accepted it as normal for him. He attended church every Sunday and could quote the Bible by chapter and verse without any hesitation. I often sat in the congregation with my family and listened as the minister would ask him to tell the Scripture that was referred to on the bulletin. His neighbors thought dearly of him and often saw that he had a cooked meal and fresh vegetables, bread and other foodstuffs. His horse was not a problem for them as in those days it was accepted if you had a horse in your barn.
I know that there were quite a few residents in our village who enjoyed horseback riding, but their animals were stabled on farms outside of the village.
When Vernon Downs came into being, interest in horses returned . A few stables were built near our village and folks began traveling to Vernon nightly to see if they could win a race.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
I love to hang out
As I came in from the back porch with my basket of fresh laundry, mostly bedding, I heard my cousin coming in from the front door asking “are you still hanging your clothes outside?”
Of course I am, and I’m not the only one who does. I have always done so when the weather would allow me
There is nothing sweeter than the scent of clothes that have been dried by the sun. When you go to bed at night and slip into those sweet-smelling sheets and covers you know and appreciate it and you can sleep like a baby. My cousin had to admit the aroma coming from the sheets broght back good memories.
Every year (as most folks don’t know) on April 19 Project Laundry List joins with organizations around the country to educate people about energy savings. National Hanging Out Day was created to demonstrate how it is possible to save money and energy using a clothesline. Project Laundry List was founded in 1995 in Vermont after Dr. Helen Caldicott gave a speech at Middlebury College in which she said: “If we all did things like hand out our clothes, we could shut down the nuclear industry.”
She aid the top reasons to line dry are:
1. Save as much as $25 a month on energy costs.
2. Clothes will last longer.
3. Line dried clothes smell better.
4. Hanging clothes is good exercise.
5. Sunlight bleaches and disinfects.
The fifth reason is one that was taught to me both by my grandmother and one of my dear friends’ mothers who was of the Italian descent. When she had a stain on something rather than bleaching it (back in those days they didn’t have bleach in the bottle) you spread the item out on the lawn and let the sun do the bleaching and it always worked for them.
Back in the old days days wooden bushel baskets lined with cloth or eventually plastic were used for the wash. Clothespin bags would hang on the line ready for use. At one time a few years ago, clothespin bags were almost a thing of the past because “no one used them any longer” well duh, I did and so one of my friends who sews made me two as mine were getting pretty worn out.
I have neighbors and friends that have often asked me if we don’t have a dryer as I think they are feeling so sorry for me. I tell them that I do but I prefer my solar-powered one.
Hanging the clothes helps my waistline, saves electricity and I gain satisfaction at seeing them all hung up dancing in the breeze and getting that wonderful smell.
One thing about hanging your laundry on the line is that you have to be sure of the weather. Try to have an “at-home” day that time so that if showers should show up you can get your clothes off the line and in the house before it starts. I don’t plan on going too far away from home should that be the case and at one time you would hear, should you be in a grocery store or other place, and a shower was pending one would say “oh dear, I better get home, I have clothes hanging out,” and off they would go.
In the winter months, mind you, everything goes into the dryer .
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Retirement is a full-time job
If you see me hanging from a ladder on our front porch don’t be surprised. Old house had to have a coat of paint. Our house is painted with oil-based paint and at one time, with lead still in the mix, the paint lasted many more years than it does now.
Our painter is a handyman who acquires many painting jobs during the summer. This year had to be one of them and inasmuch as our house is a large one it often takes a lot longer to finish, especially when it is done with a brush and not a roller. So, I told him not to worry about the ceiling on the front porch, I could do it as I love painting anyway.
So if you see me hanging from a ladder, just drive on by and say to yourself, “she’s at it again.” Folks who know me know I am quite an independent person and don’t like to ask for help unless it’s absolutely necessary so they are not surprised when they see me with a bucket of concrete fixing steps or the porch foundation. It’s the kind of concrete that is already mixed so it isn’t hard to fix a small job instead of trying to get someone who’s do it. That isn’t easy these days. Contractors don’t want small jobs.
You might, if you are a senior citizen, get someone for small tasks through the Madison County Office for the Aging. They have retirees that will help you.
So far, I have been able to do my own fixings; I had an advantage. My dad was a builder and I would watch him as he worked and I learned from that.
Ceilings aren’t the easiest to paint. Especially when they are ribbed. Painting in those cracks is time consuming, so it will take me several days to complete as the porch goes across the whole front of the house. Not to worry; eventually we can get it done.
Notice I said “we” will get it done. If one of my relatives who gets disgusted with me will come and finish it when I’m away, something I’d never allow if I were home.
When I retired, I thought of all the time I would have and how much I would enjoy not having to be dressed and at work at a certain time.
Chores, when I worked depended on weekends, and evenings and were often delayed by weather. I would have all the time I needed.
It doesn’t work that way, I found out. For one thing, with extra time, you do more than you planned. This increases both the work and the necessary shopping for materials.
You volunteer for a charity organization because you thought you would have plenty of time, but you find that volunteering takes up a lot more time than you thought and you don’t have the heart to say “no” when they call.
You planted a huge garden so you would have freezing, canning and preserving all those veggies. The huge garden is taking more time than you anticipated and yielded more than you thought so you find yourself in the kitchen all late summer and fall taking care with your wife/husband of all the preserving.
Beware of retiring and don’t fall into a trap. Plan your retirement and stick to it and don’t let your time get out of hand.
Our painter is a handyman who acquires many painting jobs during the summer. This year had to be one of them and inasmuch as our house is a large one it often takes a lot longer to finish, especially when it is done with a brush and not a roller. So, I told him not to worry about the ceiling on the front porch, I could do it as I love painting anyway.
So if you see me hanging from a ladder, just drive on by and say to yourself, “she’s at it again.” Folks who know me know I am quite an independent person and don’t like to ask for help unless it’s absolutely necessary so they are not surprised when they see me with a bucket of concrete fixing steps or the porch foundation. It’s the kind of concrete that is already mixed so it isn’t hard to fix a small job instead of trying to get someone who’s do it. That isn’t easy these days. Contractors don’t want small jobs.
You might, if you are a senior citizen, get someone for small tasks through the Madison County Office for the Aging. They have retirees that will help you.
So far, I have been able to do my own fixings; I had an advantage. My dad was a builder and I would watch him as he worked and I learned from that.
Ceilings aren’t the easiest to paint. Especially when they are ribbed. Painting in those cracks is time consuming, so it will take me several days to complete as the porch goes across the whole front of the house. Not to worry; eventually we can get it done.
Notice I said “we” will get it done. If one of my relatives who gets disgusted with me will come and finish it when I’m away, something I’d never allow if I were home.
When I retired, I thought of all the time I would have and how much I would enjoy not having to be dressed and at work at a certain time.
Chores, when I worked depended on weekends, and evenings and were often delayed by weather. I would have all the time I needed.
It doesn’t work that way, I found out. For one thing, with extra time, you do more than you planned. This increases both the work and the necessary shopping for materials.
You volunteer for a charity organization because you thought you would have plenty of time, but you find that volunteering takes up a lot more time than you thought and you don’t have the heart to say “no” when they call.
You planted a huge garden so you would have freezing, canning and preserving all those veggies. The huge garden is taking more time than you anticipated and yielded more than you thought so you find yourself in the kitchen all late summer and fall taking care with your wife/husband of all the preserving.
Beware of retiring and don’t fall into a trap. Plan your retirement and stick to it and don’t let your time get out of hand.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Muck life was good
Those who lived here in the 1930s and 1940s remember well the mucklands, the fertile swamp land that was drained around Canastota. Even now there is still muckland worked, but very little.
Some residents who own muck have vegetable gardens there now. I have written about the days when my dad had two huge vegetable gardens on the muckland after he retired because he said, “I like to see the things grow” and grow they did. There is no better soil to grow almost anything in, but there would be nurserymen and farmers who would perhaps disagree.
When my dad had his gardens we traveled those roads almost every night, after supper to go and help harvest what was ready so I knew those roads like the back of my hand. Today I almost got lost. It has been too many years since I have driven along those roads and while my memory helped it didn’t help enough. I got mixed up on one crossroad and as I sat at the four corners trying to figure out where I was, fortunately an old friend pulled up behind me and wondering what my hesitation was, got out and came to my window to ask.
He told me where I was and where I would go if I turned left; then I knew exactly where I was.
Why didn’t I recognize it? You can hardly recognize the houses or shacks. Buildings have fallen down and are hidden by weeds, grasses and all growing matter. It’s sad. As I mentioned the earth is good soil there.
Such happy days they were, even though at the time we thought it was hot, dry, tedious work. But, even though we didn’t realize it at the time, they were fun days when we kids would spend our time weeding in the springtime or topping onions in the summer. The trucks would come into town and pick up all the kids waiting in front of their homes early in the morning and with our cutting knives or shears, our brown bags for lunch and our work clothes together with brimmed hat for shade we would be off for a day on the “black beach” as we called it because that was our summer beach. The going and coming was fun as we talked and sang along the roads and even as we worked on the fields trying to outdo each other as to how many crates of onions you could top that day.
Some romances did begin those summer days and eventually they would be married and soon have a muck farm of their own, perhaps small, but a start.
Some onions are still grown on the large farms as well as other crops such as soybeans and lettuce. In the days when onions were fading, there were carrots, corn, beans and potatoes, but along the years they, too, have passed and the fields have grown up to weeds.
Sunday afternoon was the time for the families to enjoy leisure time. In the evenings the kids who lived in the houses would gather together to play games and have fun time and the adults would finish up chores that needed to be done once they were out of the fields. Women would get their wash done and hung out, they would set bread to be baked in the morning before they went to the fields and it was work until dark but they would sometimes have a neighbor or two come over for a visit and catch up on the day’s happenings.
It was a wonderful way of life, but just memories now.
Some residents who own muck have vegetable gardens there now. I have written about the days when my dad had two huge vegetable gardens on the muckland after he retired because he said, “I like to see the things grow” and grow they did. There is no better soil to grow almost anything in, but there would be nurserymen and farmers who would perhaps disagree.
When my dad had his gardens we traveled those roads almost every night, after supper to go and help harvest what was ready so I knew those roads like the back of my hand. Today I almost got lost. It has been too many years since I have driven along those roads and while my memory helped it didn’t help enough. I got mixed up on one crossroad and as I sat at the four corners trying to figure out where I was, fortunately an old friend pulled up behind me and wondering what my hesitation was, got out and came to my window to ask.
He told me where I was and where I would go if I turned left; then I knew exactly where I was.
Why didn’t I recognize it? You can hardly recognize the houses or shacks. Buildings have fallen down and are hidden by weeds, grasses and all growing matter. It’s sad. As I mentioned the earth is good soil there.
Such happy days they were, even though at the time we thought it was hot, dry, tedious work. But, even though we didn’t realize it at the time, they were fun days when we kids would spend our time weeding in the springtime or topping onions in the summer. The trucks would come into town and pick up all the kids waiting in front of their homes early in the morning and with our cutting knives or shears, our brown bags for lunch and our work clothes together with brimmed hat for shade we would be off for a day on the “black beach” as we called it because that was our summer beach. The going and coming was fun as we talked and sang along the roads and even as we worked on the fields trying to outdo each other as to how many crates of onions you could top that day.
Some romances did begin those summer days and eventually they would be married and soon have a muck farm of their own, perhaps small, but a start.
Some onions are still grown on the large farms as well as other crops such as soybeans and lettuce. In the days when onions were fading, there were carrots, corn, beans and potatoes, but along the years they, too, have passed and the fields have grown up to weeds.
Sunday afternoon was the time for the families to enjoy leisure time. In the evenings the kids who lived in the houses would gather together to play games and have fun time and the adults would finish up chores that needed to be done once they were out of the fields. Women would get their wash done and hung out, they would set bread to be baked in the morning before they went to the fields and it was work until dark but they would sometimes have a neighbor or two come over for a visit and catch up on the day’s happenings.
It was a wonderful way of life, but just memories now.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Summer finally arrives
We’ve waited for months and months, but finally summer is here.
You can smell the charcoal burning as he cooks steaks, burgers, chicken, hot dogs, sausage, peppers, onions and shish kabobs and all of that good stuff. When you are hungry and working outside and your neighbor has his grill going with all of that fine food you want to go over for a visit and perhaps he will offer you something. For that matter during the winter months you sometimes catch the scent of food if your neighbor had the garage door up and was cooking on the grill. Some folks don’t ever give up on grilled food.
But, most of us have waited all of those long winter months for this beautiful summer. When it there was sleet, snow, blizzards and cold wet slop, we kept telling ourselves it’s all going to change – summer will return. Well, it’s here!
Don’t you love going to farmers’ markets and fruit stands? The other day I went bonkers. The homegrown peas were in. Don’t you just love boiled new potatoes and homegrown peas? There were also green onions, homegrown radishes and sweet corn (not homegrown yet- but soon). There are plenty of melons, cantaloupe, string beans, cherries, peaches, apricots, nectarines and strawberries. We have had out-of-state strawberries practically all winter, but homegrown strawberries are the sweetest and the best.
You take a basket of homegrown strawberries, wash and hull them. Take a whole berry, dip it in sugar and pop it in your mouth. Yum!
We have a recipe for shortbread biscuits in which you put an egg and a pinch of sugar in the batter which we like to use. They are just great eaten warm with strawberries spooned all over the top and real butter and strawberries together with real whipped cream all those long winter days are forgotten and you just enjoy.
Did you attend a Fourth of July picnic? Isn’t all of that packing, running back and forth to the house to be sure you have everything and the frazzle on the nerves, getting the kids organized in order to get to the pool or swimming park worth it? Be sure you have everything including the catsup, mustard, salt, pepper and all the extras that sometimes get forgotten when you are sure you have the main foodstuffs.
I’m not a water person, but I do love to go and sit and watch the people. Are you a people watcher? I can spend hours in that pastime. They come in all shapes, size, color and type, you know. Myself included. Sunday at the beach can give you pure relaxation, visiting with whomever is sitting next to you and just watching the styles, color coordinations and especially the variety of hats.
And is there anything like having a game of bocce ball, Frisbee, tennis or going 18 holes of golf and coming to the clubhouse for a long, tall, cool drink?
It’s summer – enjoy it and bottle up some of this fun for those months when we can only discuss all of the fun we are having now! Bless it all and you all.
You can smell the charcoal burning as he cooks steaks, burgers, chicken, hot dogs, sausage, peppers, onions and shish kabobs and all of that good stuff. When you are hungry and working outside and your neighbor has his grill going with all of that fine food you want to go over for a visit and perhaps he will offer you something. For that matter during the winter months you sometimes catch the scent of food if your neighbor had the garage door up and was cooking on the grill. Some folks don’t ever give up on grilled food.
But, most of us have waited all of those long winter months for this beautiful summer. When it there was sleet, snow, blizzards and cold wet slop, we kept telling ourselves it’s all going to change – summer will return. Well, it’s here!
Don’t you love going to farmers’ markets and fruit stands? The other day I went bonkers. The homegrown peas were in. Don’t you just love boiled new potatoes and homegrown peas? There were also green onions, homegrown radishes and sweet corn (not homegrown yet- but soon). There are plenty of melons, cantaloupe, string beans, cherries, peaches, apricots, nectarines and strawberries. We have had out-of-state strawberries practically all winter, but homegrown strawberries are the sweetest and the best.
You take a basket of homegrown strawberries, wash and hull them. Take a whole berry, dip it in sugar and pop it in your mouth. Yum!
We have a recipe for shortbread biscuits in which you put an egg and a pinch of sugar in the batter which we like to use. They are just great eaten warm with strawberries spooned all over the top and real butter and strawberries together with real whipped cream all those long winter days are forgotten and you just enjoy.
Did you attend a Fourth of July picnic? Isn’t all of that packing, running back and forth to the house to be sure you have everything and the frazzle on the nerves, getting the kids organized in order to get to the pool or swimming park worth it? Be sure you have everything including the catsup, mustard, salt, pepper and all the extras that sometimes get forgotten when you are sure you have the main foodstuffs.
I’m not a water person, but I do love to go and sit and watch the people. Are you a people watcher? I can spend hours in that pastime. They come in all shapes, size, color and type, you know. Myself included. Sunday at the beach can give you pure relaxation, visiting with whomever is sitting next to you and just watching the styles, color coordinations and especially the variety of hats.
And is there anything like having a game of bocce ball, Frisbee, tennis or going 18 holes of golf and coming to the clubhouse for a long, tall, cool drink?
It’s summer – enjoy it and bottle up some of this fun for those months when we can only discuss all of the fun we are having now! Bless it all and you all.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Freedom rings, but bell doesn't
Imagine it’s July 2, 1776; it’s a beautiful day and the Liberty Bell is rung to announce the adoption of the Declaration of Independence.
You wouldn’t know it then, but down the years there’s always been a thrill to hear it ring. Several days ago we celebrated the ringing of that bell in 1776 and we today realize how important it was.
We all know because of the crack in the bell it was decided it couldn’t be rung many years later, but while reading an article in a periodical it listed the time it was registered when it was. I believe we at one time in our school days learned this but how many remember?
On July 2, 1776 the Liberty Bell was rung to announce the adoption of the Declaration of Independence.
On Oct. 14, 1781, it was rung to celebrate the surrender of Lord Cornwallis of the English forces, and the virtual close of the Revolutionary War.
April 6, 1783, it announced the proclamation of peace with Great Britain.
Sept. 29, 1824 it was rung to welcome Lafayette, the famous French general who had assisted Washington, to Independence Hall.
July 4, 1826, it tolled to announce the death of Thomas Jefferson, principal author of the Declaration of Independence.
July 14, 1826, it ushered in “The Year of Jubilee,” the 50th anniversary of the American Republic.
July 4, 1831, the famous bell ran for the last time on Independence Day.
Feb. 22, 1832, the bell was rung to commemorate the birth of George Washington. Later in the same year it tolled to announce the death of the last surviving signer of the Declaration of Independence – Charles Carroll of Carrollton, Ga.
July 21, 1834, it tolled again for the death of the Marquis de Lafayette.
July 8, 1835, while it was being tolled for the death of Chief Justice John Marshall, a crack developed.
On Feb. 22, 1843, when an attempt was being made to ring the bell on Washington’s birthday, the fracture increased to such an extent that no effort was made to ring it for decades.
But on June 6, 1944 the Bell was struck to commemorate the ending of World War II. In January 1976, the Bell was moved to the Pavilion in Philadelphia where it has remained.
Other little-known facts that I find interesting was the fact that the bell became widely famous after an 1847 short story claimed that an aged bell-ringer rang it on July 4, 1776 upon hearing of the Second Continental Congress’ vote for Independence. While the bell could not have been rung on that Fourth of July, as no announcement of the Declaration was made that day, the tale was widely accepted as fact, even by some historians.
Beginning in 1885 the City of Philadelphia, which owns the bell, allowed it to go to various expositions and patriotic gatherings. The bell attracted huge crowds wherever it went; additional cracking occurred and pieces were chipped away by souvenir hunters. The last such journey occurred in 1915, after which the city refused further requests. After World War II, the city allowed the National Park Service to take custody of the bell, while retaining ownership.
You wouldn’t know it then, but down the years there’s always been a thrill to hear it ring. Several days ago we celebrated the ringing of that bell in 1776 and we today realize how important it was.
We all know because of the crack in the bell it was decided it couldn’t be rung many years later, but while reading an article in a periodical it listed the time it was registered when it was. I believe we at one time in our school days learned this but how many remember?
On July 2, 1776 the Liberty Bell was rung to announce the adoption of the Declaration of Independence.
On Oct. 14, 1781, it was rung to celebrate the surrender of Lord Cornwallis of the English forces, and the virtual close of the Revolutionary War.
April 6, 1783, it announced the proclamation of peace with Great Britain.
Sept. 29, 1824 it was rung to welcome Lafayette, the famous French general who had assisted Washington, to Independence Hall.
July 4, 1826, it tolled to announce the death of Thomas Jefferson, principal author of the Declaration of Independence.
July 14, 1826, it ushered in “The Year of Jubilee,” the 50th anniversary of the American Republic.
July 4, 1831, the famous bell ran for the last time on Independence Day.
Feb. 22, 1832, the bell was rung to commemorate the birth of George Washington. Later in the same year it tolled to announce the death of the last surviving signer of the Declaration of Independence – Charles Carroll of Carrollton, Ga.
July 21, 1834, it tolled again for the death of the Marquis de Lafayette.
July 8, 1835, while it was being tolled for the death of Chief Justice John Marshall, a crack developed.
On Feb. 22, 1843, when an attempt was being made to ring the bell on Washington’s birthday, the fracture increased to such an extent that no effort was made to ring it for decades.
But on June 6, 1944 the Bell was struck to commemorate the ending of World War II. In January 1976, the Bell was moved to the Pavilion in Philadelphia where it has remained.
Other little-known facts that I find interesting was the fact that the bell became widely famous after an 1847 short story claimed that an aged bell-ringer rang it on July 4, 1776 upon hearing of the Second Continental Congress’ vote for Independence. While the bell could not have been rung on that Fourth of July, as no announcement of the Declaration was made that day, the tale was widely accepted as fact, even by some historians.
Beginning in 1885 the City of Philadelphia, which owns the bell, allowed it to go to various expositions and patriotic gatherings. The bell attracted huge crowds wherever it went; additional cracking occurred and pieces were chipped away by souvenir hunters. The last such journey occurred in 1915, after which the city refused further requests. After World War II, the city allowed the National Park Service to take custody of the bell, while retaining ownership.
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