The apples are ready!

We resurrected an old tradition on Friday. Maybe resurrected is not the right word; maybe relived or revived or revisited would be better. Whatever, my best friend and mother-figure Dorothy and my best friend and sibling Jessie (who is visiting from the vast expanse of the west coast) joined me in an upstate-New York drive of approximately an hour-and-a-half to Masker pick-it-yourself Orchards. In the past this tradition has also included a pre-orchard breakfast at a joint called the Orange Top Inn in Tuxedo Junction and a post-picking stop at a roadside stand called Auntie El’s. It’s been quite a while since I’ve made this trek so there was no guarantee that these “remembered” establishments are still functioning, but there they were, none the worse for wear. But Masker itself is the main attraction and remains the same as nostalgia waxes and wanes.

This time I had the Net as an information resource. Masker was founded as a very successful-from-the-get-go commercial apple farm in 1913 on a steep 200+ acre hillside in Warwick, NY. The pick-it-yourself tradition had its origins from the beginning when the owners allowed local residents to come and glean what was left after the commercial enterprise harvested the crop. It became a very popular destination for urban travelers and in 1976 the entire farm (under new ownership) was turned into a pick-it-yourself enterprise and subsequent years proved it a tremendous success and each year the attendance has grown almost to capacity, especially on weekends. Since there are 14 varieties of apples growing on abundant trees (there are about 20,000, some dating from the original planting) and since they ripen at different times from early September to early November there are always fresh apples to pick. And they are all just flat-out delicious! You can drive right up to the trees and, if you are cautiously cagey, you can even reach out your car window and reap the harvest. But that’s no fun and it’s a terrific experience to wander the groves and reach as high as possible for what one perceives as the perfect fruit just out of easy reach.

Since we went on a weekday we didn’t have to buck any crowds and it being an extra hot day (from which we suffered, with beads of sweat dripping off our various noses) the apples seemed to be ripening before our eyes. Since we didn’t take a camera the accompanying photos stolen from the Net do not do justice to the cascade(s) of fruit that overload the branches. Actually the overload is to the picker’s advantage since it puts the apples within reach and I don’t think climbing up and into the trees is a great idea in the best of circumstances, although I’ve done so in the past. Great views of the valley from up there, you know.

We brought home way too many apples but, thanks to said sibling, we've already almost polished off a terrific apple crisp and, just today, there's an apple pie cooling on the rack. Also, we are sharing the fresh, crisp fruit with whoever passes by, friend and foe alike. If you fall into one (or both) of those categories feel free to drop by; you’ll go away with unbelievably fresh apples to nosh on; to bake with, to shine up, to visually admire and to gush over.

Oh, that Archie!

I know, I know...this is just so much spam and it's probably all over Facebook already but my smut-driven brain can't resist perpetuating the crime.

Candy Man

These are Red Dollars. Aside from corn syrup this candy is basically made up entirely of chemicals, including its color. It’s chewy (although “gummy” might be a better word); it’s a slightly bilious color; and it tastes like some kind of faux berry. The appearance of the thick quarter-inch disc is unpleasant to the eye, being the manufacturers’ name, Heide, arching over a weirdly designed dollar sign. It is also, unfortunately, super-addictive. I can’t seem to stop throwing them down my gaping gullet like a voracious buzzard chick gulping down road kill from the beak of its scavenging parent. Even after only two days I know this habit will be hard to break but my vow is to do so forthwith. Just as soon as I finish up every morsel out of the unattractive clear- plastic carton and can brush my teeth with something clinical and abrasive. A major flossing is also indicated.

superhero ME

I’m not sure if this is an ego-booster or not. On the one hand the figure is definitely a superhero (you can tell by the outfit and, hey, he’s flying) and, on the other, this particular SH has obvious drawbacks not usually associated with the profession but, in reality, pretty much represents the physical truth of the matter. This work of comic art was done by a young friend named Jeff Lassiter whose style of artwork is currently all over the map, which is most refreshing in this day and age where the pressure is so great to concentrate on one type of production and, thus, gain a reputation for just that. Jeff can actually draw…meaning he can capture a likeness with apparent ease but he still has a wild sense of color and imagination and knows the meaning of practical compromise when it comes to commissioned art. His heroes are Andy Warhol, Jean-Michel Basquiat and Keith Haring so, if you know the art of those three icons, you know from where Jeff’s imagination springs. Whatever; I’m really tickled by Jeff’s rendering of my superhero side and flattered he thought me worthy.

Twitter Solidarity

I am a long-term, dues-paying member of a labor union. And, I might add, proud of it!

As usual I expected to be contacted by the union regarding what was planned to celebrate this year’s Labor Day and, sure enough, on September 4th I received an e-mail with advice on how to participate in the celebration and show solidarity within the union movement. Sounds really righteous and cool, doesn’t it?

As I’ve stated before, I’ve never been one to march or carry placards for causes good or causes misguided; it’s just not my nature. I pay my dues; I vote in my union elections and sometimes buy stuff from the company store. For the purposes of this rant it is not necessary for you to know which union it is.

Here’s my union’s e-mail, verbatim:

“This Labor Day, we can all do our part to help send a positive message about the value of unions – and we’re encouraging you to join other union members in doing so through Twitter. We’re joining with…(here they list a bunch of the usual suspects, including the Major League Baseball Players Association…which was interesting and different this year)…about the advantages of being a union member. Labor Day is not just a day to commemorate the protections, rights, and opportunities that labor unions and workers’ rights advocates have achieved in years past. It’s a day to broadcast the critical role unions’ play today for all workers in every industry.

Simply send one or more Tweets over Labor Day weekend – Sept. 3 through Sept. 6 -- with the unions’ hash tag number to showcase the strength, solidarity and diversity of our unions. To see just how many union members are Tweeting, check out (the) union hash (number) in Twitter. Happy Labor Day.”

Say what? What is an old, flatulent union member supposed to do? What the hell is a hash number? Who the hell cares? Whatever happened to shouting obscenities on street corners and waving misspelled placards on sticks? Solidarity; Solidarity; Solidarity!

Update September 21, 2010: I spoke too soon. On Friday, 9/24, there’s a massive gathering at the Great Hall of Cooper Union in NYC for “a conversation on the issues and viewpoints of working men and women at the tipping point and what can be done to shift the balance.” And (how could I forget?) there’s a “One Nation Working Together” March on Washington scheduled for Saturday, Oct. 2. Buses will depart NYC at 6 a.m. and depart D.C. at 4 p.m. The buses are scheduled to go to RFK stadium and participants will then take the D.C. Metro to the mall. So, thank goodness, the Labor Movement is not all about Twitter and solidarity through Tweets!

Don’t Tread On My Flag!

When I was a kid I used to love this flag. I didn’t know what the hell it meant really but it had a snake on it and, at the time, I really liked snakes and was always grabbing up the garter snakes that were native to my little home town in California. Even at a fairly early age I was able to draw (as I recall I specialized in roosters) and could make reasonable facsimiles of a lot of stuff I liked, including snakes. Consequently I drew pictures of this flag over and over again, including its sentiment. For some reason it vexed everybody that I did this and, to this day, I’m not really sure why. Either they didn’t like some sassy kid telling them to buzz-off or they were jealous I could do a pretty good job of drawing it. Well, just look at it. What kid wouldn’t like this snake? It has everything, including a certain cuteness along with its incipient, and venomous, danger. Whatever the reason I caught grief for it; I still feel a certain ownership of the memory.

The current use of the flag by that lippy Tea Party has tweaked a certain amount of resentment somewhere in my psyche that I was not aware could be dredged up. Tread on somebody else’s flag you demon spawn!