Kissing Tom Jones

Kissing Tom Jones 

Once again I woke up at 3 AM last night experiencing the usual aches and pains and a neck pull from lifting an awkward shaped box containing Christmas wrap.  

I decided that if I didn’t get up at all - not even to pee -  ( our Ladies allowed to say “pee” ) that, maybe, possibly,  I’d fall back to sleep without medicating myself. No Tylenol, no Advil with a side of cereal ( can’t tolerate Advil at all on an empty stomach), no Lorazepam (Ativan), no gas pills or 

Tums - nothing. So I finally fall back to sleep “cold turkey”.   In the ensuing dream I was at a bar/pick up joint.  There were three or four guys standing at the bar and a guy sitting by himself on a high stool not too far away from the bar.   I walked over to him and we started talking. The guys nearby observed us as they talked among themselves. Eventually, the guy on the stool opened his legs and pulled me closer to him. I worried a bit for a minute or two not wanting to get too close to his manhood.  When we were face to face and eye to eye, I realized it was none other than Tom Jones! You remember, he is the guy who sang, “ It’s not unusual to be loved by anyone”.  So after a little while, he kisses me on the lips a couple of times and I think, “ It isn’t a horrible kiss, but nothing to write home about either.”   Then I question myself, “Why am I kissing this guy?”  I was never a very big Tom Jones fan ( Now if it was Elvis it would have been a totally different story ).  It doesn’t take me long to realize I am probably kissing him simply because he is “Tom Jones”.  I am influenced in my decision making by the fact that he is a famous singer.  Even in my dream I’m disappointed in myself!  So before much time passes I have to use the Ladies Room ( remember I never peed when I woke up at 3 AM), but the toilet is out of order with tape across the seat ( you know just like what you see at a crime scene). I have to go so badly that I contemplate pulling back the tape and using it anyway ( naughty, right? ).  I decide against this option and look quickly for another restroom but the other two are in use. “I guess I’ll just have to leave and go home”, I think.  In order to get home I have to travel through a rather “bad” neighborhood and I’m all alone.  I go back to “good old” Tom Jones  and explain my situation to him and ask if he minds driving me me home.  The Bum gives me some lame excuse which pisses me off and makes me feel used. After all he was just kissing me and acting like he cared about me! Besides, he probably has a chauffeur and limousine, he could have employed.  

The guys at the bar step up to the plate and say they are getting ready to leave anyway and I can hop in the SUV with one of them and they’ll drop me at home.  For some reason there are several SUVs and the guys jump in and get ready to leave when I announce that I can’t possibly “ hold it in” until I get home to use the bathroom and would they please be so kind as to wait a minute while I run back in the joint to pee.  They say “ yes”, but when I get back out to the street they are gone and I am left there all alone.   Next time, I’ll get out of bed. 

Mom

                        Rita Mary Agnes O’Donnell Fries

March 25, 1917 - November 19, 1998

It is amazing how fast time passes.  Can it really be 20 years since my mother’s spirit left her body?  I know for certain that she left because I was lying in bed next to her at that very moment when she was no longer in the physical structure that had held her since March 25^th 1917. 

Believe me dead is dead.  Her body was vacant, empty; there was no question about it, she was not there anymore.   When the hospice nurse asked me to check for her pulse, I said “no”.  I knew without any doubt she was dead and more importantly I refused to feel my dearly beloved Mother without a heartbeat.   Since I was close beside her, I actually saw her take her very last breath.  I imagine if this could be viewed without any emotion, it could be an interesting phenomenon.   People breathe in and breathe out so many times over their lifetimes that we hardly notice this small physical activity. All of a sudden after slowing down and coming in spurts, there is a moment when a specific simple breath is the very last one. 

 My parents had shared a bed together since October 19, 1940 and on this particular day, my Dad stood at the foot of their bed anxiously willing his wife to continue breathing.  When he saw that she exhaled and did not inhale again, he basically screamed at me to shake her.   He had been stimulating her breaths like this for the last day or so and he felt if I shook her really hard, I could keep her alive.   I remember saying, “Daddy, I can’t do that.”  The cyanosis had already worked itself half way up her body and it seemed cruel to insist she keep breathing now.  

So my mother died.  But honestly it is not her death, but her life that I want to remember today.

I want people to know who Rita Mary Agnes (Agnes was the name she chose for her Confirmation although I am not sure why – I think she told me but I no longer remember) O’Donnell Fries was.

I especially want her great-grandchildren to know a little bit about their Great- Grandmother since this type of thing was always very important to my Mother.  

So here are some things that I remember and want to share about my Mom:

• she smiled a lot 
• she cried a bit too. 
• she made the best apple pie I ever ate.
• she had a crush on Johnny Ryan and took him to her High School Prom where she met her husband, my father, Charles A. Fries. (Charlie escorted his sister, Rosemary Fries, to the Prom and Rosemary was my Mom’s good friend so they sat together at the same table).
• my mother always let her kids build forts and other interesting things under the dining room table and in other places throughout the house.  There would be sheets and blankets and pillows and upside down chairs all over the place. It would make a mess but our imaginations could run wild.
• she also allowed us to paint the windows with snow scenes at Christmas time.  Was that white shoe polish we used?
• my mother didn’t care for housework, but she enjoyed cooking and entertaining. 
• she always had room for one more at her table- always!
• she researched family history better than anyone else I ever knew.
• after High School my mother went to work at the Mohegan Company but once her firstborn son was born in 1943, she became a full time Stay-at -Home Mom.  
• my Mother’s lost her fifth-born child, Joseph O’Donnell Fries, several hours after he was born ( December 11, 1956 ).  She carried her baby for a full nine months and was never given the chance to see her son which only added to her horrendous heartbreak. 
• she took some college courses later in life and I was amazed how brilliant she was when I read her research paper on Peyote.
• the parish priest once told us that my mother was more Catholic than the Pope.   She held an office with the Christian Mother’s Association.
• luckily, my mother sang the praises of conjugal love. Otherwise, after the negative perceptions of sexuality absorbed during my years in Catholic School, I might never have gotten married. Thanks Mom for explaining things in a positive light.
• my Mother loved books and started a library at St. Michael the Archangel Church on Jerome Street in Brooklyn, NY.
• she loved the fact that her husband had a college education and worked in the Physics Department at Queens College and that they were exposed to highly educated, stimulating people.  
• my mother wanted to go to Ireland but sadly, never got there. 
• she wanted to drive but never took lessons.
• she loved being an O’Donnell and was disappointed that she had to give up her maiden name when she got married. 
• She would get mad at my father but told me on several occasions that she looked at other women's husbands and quickly decided she liked the one she had the best.   She said she wouldn’t trade her husband for any of the others.  
• my mother loved children. 
• she loved to sleep
• she loved ice cream and it was the last thing she ate before she died.  
• she took art classes in her later years and wasn’t a bad artist.
• she has wrote realms of journals and copybooks filled with her thoughts and feelings and what she ate for dinner. I can’t throw them out. 
• she was always planning outings and activities rather than planning for her death. 
• she left this earth 20 years ago but somehow she isn’t really gone. 
• when I am out shopping and I hear a woman say, “Mom”, I get jealous.  I have the urge to go over to the younger woman and tell her how lucky she is, but I restrain myself. 

Thank You Sergeant Bailey for holding “ Our Joe”

                          

HEADQUARTERS 

38TH INFANTRY REGIMENT

APO 248 c/o POSTMASTER 

SAN Francisco, California 

                                 January 31st, 1952 

Mrs. Marie O’Donnell 

73 Linden S. 

Brooklyn 21, New York 

Dear Marie:

Though I did not see your husband at the moment he was killed, - - - I usually stay at the aid or collecting Station because otherwise it would not be possible to see all the wounded - - - I talked to a Sergeant who was there, and who did see him.  His full name is Sergeant Fred E. Tillison, NG 33 915 816, also of Company A, and whose home address is: 311 9th Street, Columbus, Ga.  I will give you the information as the Sergeant told it to me. 

“ Lieutenant O’Donnell was leading the platoon in the attack on Hill 1100.  While in the attack the platoon was pinned down by hand-grenades ( thrown by the enemy ) and, smaller arms fire.  In order to neutralize this fire the Lieutenant led two machine gun squads around the left side of Hill 1100; and after a 45 minute fire fight there, he started to pull his men back. After the

Men started back, Lieutenant O’Donnell followed along the ridge.  While following along this ridge an enemy mortar round came in, wounding him fatally.  He did not regain consciousness.  Sergeant Wright and Private First Class May carried him behind a big rock and the medic, Sergeant Bailey went to him immediately.  He held the Lieutenant in his lap as he died. 

Marie, if you wish to correspond with these men, simply address their letters to Company A, 38th Infantry Regiment, APO 248 c/o Postmaster, San Francisco California. Sergeant Wright the medic, however, belongs to the 38th Medical Company, APO 248 Postmaster, San Francisco, California, and any correspondence to him should carry that address. On a separate piece of paper, I will give the home addresses of all of them, so that you may still contact them, even if they should be rotated or transferred. 

Our Lord has laid a heavy cross upon you, Marie, but I am sure that with God’s help, you will be able to rear your children successfully.  Always keep alive in them the memory of their good and brave father.  Remind them frequently how loving and kind he was to you and them, and how he prayed the rosary daily to honor Our Blessed Mother.  And finally how he went to mass and received Holy Communion before going into battle and to his death.  The knowledge of all these things will have a great influence upon their lives for good.  And so, they will beat with them not just the flesh and blood which their good father helped to give them, but also qualities of mind and heart that reflect his devotion to aGod and his family.

I hope some day to pay you and the children a visit. In the meantime, may God bless you all. 

                               Sincerely,

                               James R. Meder

                                Catholic Chaplain

Sergeant William G. Wright, US 55 102 008

R.R. #3 Columbus, Wisconsin 

Private First Class Bernie R. May

US 53 032 068

Route # 1,  Union Springs, Alabama 

Sergeant Robert L. Bailey, US 53 082 709

c/o Mr. H. C. Bailey 

Union Mills, Route # 2 North Carolina 

The Summer of 1962 - 43 years later

About 4 decades and a few years after last having a summer romance at Lake Oquaga, in 2005 my husband and I went for a weekend with friends to the newly renovated Chestnut Inn (previously known as the Chestnut Lodge). We had a marvelous time and before we headed back home to Latham, N.Y., we decided to grab an early dinner in Deposit, N.Y. , the little town down the hill from Lake Oquaga.  There are not many restaurants in Deposit but I thought I remembered a place that I had gone to in 1962.  I had no idea if it still existed but my sense of direction was accurate and we found a down-home place named Crane’s restaurant.  When I walked in, I knew it was the same place that RA took me me to way back in the summer of  '62. In case you’ve forgotten RA was the guy I had met at the Chestnut Lodge all those many years ago.
Bob and I sat at a booth and I opened up the "Memory Lane" scrapbook that I had brought with me to share with our friends during our nostalgic Chestnut Inn weekend.   The owner of the restaurant came over to our booth and I told him that I thought I had been to this place in the summer of 1962 with a local guy by the name of RA ( I used his real, full name when asking the owner of Crane's restaurant about him).  To my surprise he knew exactly who I was talking about.   I mentioned that all those years ago there had been a bit of a commotion at the bar and and I had wondered if the young woman involved could have been a girlfriend of his, and I was being brought there to make her jealous.     But I mentioned that I had kind of dismissed that possibility.  When that thought crossed my mind that summer night all those years ago, I thought, "how would he even have known that she was going to at this particular place on this particular night".  I told the current owner what I had thought and he surprised me when he answered "well, it's not surprising that she would be there, since her parents owned the place!   So, I had been naive and a bit stupid and even all these years later I felt rather foolish. I had been paraded under this young woman's nose purposely to make her jealous.  I felt like I had certainly been "used".     It was  later that same night on the way back to the Farmhouse summer vacation rental that RA abruptly stopped the car and forcefully attempted to grope me.

Before we left to go back home, Crane's current owner also told me that that particular woman ended up marrying RA but he had gotten the better part of the twosome and she had gotten the raw end of the deal.  Apparently, and I might add, from his perspective, RA was no prize and hadn't aged very well but he felt like his wife was quite a nice lady.   I was surprised to see from some research on Facebook (It is amazing what one can discover through Facebook), that RA was married in September 1963.  That surprises me a little because if I remember correctly it was the next summer ( 1963) that I was up to  Lake Oquaga for a short time and was walking with my Dad on the road in front of the Farmhouse when RA drove by in his car and stopped and called me over to the car.  I didn't know how he knew I was up to the Lake.  Since my father was at my side, I walked a few feet to the side of the car.  RA grabbed a small box out of the glove compartment and opened it up to show me an engagement ring.  I don't remember what he said or why he did this, all I remember is he did this.  I often wonder if he gave his girl the ring and married her the next month.   

If his wife's postings are any indication, she appears to have loved him dearly.  He died at 67 years of age and his wife seems to miss him terribly.  I am not sure what I meant to him or if he cared for me at all.  I hate to think he was completely “ using me” to make her jealous. 

I remember my 1961 summer sweetheart, Lyle Decker, with a lot more affection. 

I believe that the above photo was taken in 1963 when my father and I drove my cousin, Karen O'Donnell to get the train back to NYC.  I know the photo was definitely taken in Deposit, N.Y.  by my father.  I am aslo wearing a St. Vincent's Hospital School of Nursing Sweatshirt and I started Nursing School in September 1962.  ( I could have brought the shirt prior to starting school?).   

These summer romance stories do make me think of my Aunt Anne O'Donnell who never married.  I believe it is partly because the love of her life, Eddie Moran, was a country farmer, and she was already establised as a NYC business woman.  The change in lifestyles would have been just too much to overcome.   Can a city girl marry a country boy and find happiness?

Sent from my iPhone

Newspaper Clipping ( No date) " Many Are Rescued in Dash of Runaway"

The following is a clipping from an old newspaper.  It is about my maternal grandfather who grew up on a farm in St. Joseph's Pa.  I guess his experience as a "country boy" came in handy in the Big Apple.   I am proud of you Grandpa O'Donnell!!

Bravery of patrolman Thomas J. O'Donnell Saves Lives of Woman and Child.
OFFICER HIMSELF INJURED
Grasps Horse and Succeeds in Throwing It to Ground

A woman, her five year old son and a policeman narrowly escaped serious injury yesterday afternoon when a horse ran wild in Fulton street, between Albany and Tompkins avenues, and imperiled the safety of scores of pedestrians, who ran to safety in hallways or stores.

The woman, Mrs. Bertha O. Floyd, 25 years old, of 1490 Atlantic avenue, and her son, Frank, Jr., sustained bruises of the face and body when they were hurled from the path of the onrushing animal by Patrolman Thomas J. O'Donnell, of Atlantic avenue station, who grasped the horse around the neck.

The patrolman was dragged about a block before he managed to turn the animal into Kingston avenue, where he headed it toward a stonewall. As the animal reared at the wall, the wagon turned over and the horse fell on its side.  The policeman, bruised, and his uniform badly torn, climbed on the horse and sat on its head until people came to his rescue and helped him hold it.

Mrs. Floyd and her son were attended by Dr. Marcus of Jewish Hospital, who had been summoned by Patrolman O'Donnell. The patrolman had escaped serious injury and refused medical attention to bruises.

The horse, owned by Morris Levine, of 293 Ellery street, a painter, was attached to a wagon and had been left in Fulton street near Albany avenue by the driver, Isadore Lowenthal, of 494 East 139th street, the Bronx.  It was reported the horse might have been frightened by the whistle of an elevated train overhead, which caused it to start on a mad rampage down the street.

Patrolman O'Donnell had heard the cries of women and children as they rushed to safety.  He saw the animal dashing down the street, with the wagon swaying from one side to the other of the street. Directly in the path of the animal was Mrs. Floyd and her son.

The patrolman ran across the street and bolted over the woamn and boy just in time to prevent them from being run down. At the same time he reached up and clasped his arms about the neck of the animal, and by turning the horse's head, directed it toward the stone wall. 

A Postcard dated August 30,1909

Once again, in my endless endeavor to preserve out family's history for future generations, I share a postcard written by Margaret Mary Coleman to Mr. T. J. O'Donnell.  The postcard is stamped Aug 30, 3P.M. 1909, Binghamton, N. Y.
It is addressed to T. J. O'Donnell, State Hospital, Binghamton, N. Y. 
It says, " Just reached town today. Am going on Stage this P. M. Hope to see you at Fair. I expect to take it in. Margaret "
My grandfather ( T.J. O'Donnell ) left the family farm where he grew up in St. Joseph, PA to take a job as an orderly at Binghamton State Hospital and my grandmother ( Margaret Mary Coleman ) was a teacher in a one room schoolhouse.  Having been born on Feb 16, 1887, Margaret was 22 years old at the time.  T. J. was having been born on March 22, 1885, was 2 years older.
It seems obvious that Margaret was interested in T. J. at that point in her life, although they did not marry until many years later on January 19 , 1916 ( St. Patrick's Church in Middletown Center, Pa).
Margaret was just shy of her 30th birthday.  No wonder she dismissed her students for the rest of the day when the mailman delivered her engagement ring to her schoolhouse! seems she waited a long time to marry her man. 

The Summer of 1962 - Prevalent theories regarding Sexuality in the early 60’s

For the younger women out there:

This is how the Sexual Mores was back in the day, ( I was born on March 9, 1945 and came of age just before the sexual revolution). This is my perspective, and others of my era may have different viewpoints. I learned that women were basically responsible for the behavior of men - i.e., by their nature men were the sexual aggressors and it was the woman’s responsibility to draw the line and keep them under control.  Therefore any sexual improprieties were basically presumed to be the woman’s fault.  Certainly if a woman got pregnant it was her fault!  Typically the baby would be primarily the responsibility of the woman. 

My father as I got older said I should “let the rope out slowly” . (I think that maybe he was afraid I’d never get married otherwise). He also jokingly said that the woman was the flower pot whereas the man was the master gardener.  I am sure you  have heard the statement that a lot of serious things are said in jest. 

It was expected that a woman would be a virgin when she got married but it was okay if a man had some sexual experience prior to marriage. In fact, it was almost better if he had some experience before his wedding night! How exactly can that happen unless certain women are “used”. 

Since I shared my own story of an aggressive sexual attack, I have been surprised by the number of friends who have had similar experiences of forceful sexual advances. It was pretty prevalent and not much became of it.  After all, unless you could present some sperm as “hard evidence” you were basically a voice crying out in the wilderness!  As they say in Brooklyn, “Forgetaboutit!” 

I felt that my basic understanding of human sexuality was detrimentally influenced by Catholic teachings and underlying philosophies concerning sexuality and virginity. But this could be an entire book in and of itself so I won’t elaborate anymore on it here. 

The Summer of 1962 - What happened that last night

The Summer of 62 - so this is what happened that last night with RA. Since Sharon and her family had already left for their home in Freeport, L. I., I was alone on this date with RA. Since we had gone out a few times already with Sharon and Fergie , I felt completely safe being alone with him. He and Fergie were a bit more pushy with their advances than the Decker Brothers had been, and when I finally shared a kiss with RA in the back seat of Fergie’s car, he jumped up from his seat rather dramatically and gave a fist pump into the air, yelling, something like “Hallelujah! “ I remember we all laughed at his antics that night.
On the way back to the Farmhouse, RA took a back road (from Scott’s Family Recreation building past the outdoor shuffle board court) and all of a sudden he abruptly stopped his car. Before I had a second to question him, he grabbed my arm and roughly pinned it tightly behind his back. He held back my other arm with his hand, leaving me completely defenseless and terrified. If you remember from my earlier blog entry, RA worked road construction, and he was no lightweight!
With both my arms held tightly in place, he was free to do whatever he wanted with his free arm and hand. “What do you think you are doing? “, I screamed. With an angry, aggressive smirk, he began to grope. We were on a pitch black, deserted country road, still too far from the Farmhouse for anyone to hear my screaming but I screamed anyway and as loud as I had ever screamed before in all my 17 years of living. I began to squirm and kick and maybe I even tried to bite him. I probably pleaded.
He stopped and then started laughing as if it had all been a joke. This was no joke to me. He was nasty and rough and aggressive and I was terrified. He was abusive and I was being abused. He started the car up and drove me to the Farmhouse and I jumped out of the car and quickly went to the safety of my family. I never mentioned a thing to my parents or to anyone else for that matter.
I am not sure why. Maybe I felt it was somehow my fault or I was making too much of it. After all I hadn’t been raped. Maybe it was just a joke. I had no witnesses. No other human being was there when it happened and I hadn’t told another living soul. 
Approximately four decades later, after a weekend with friends at the newly renovated Chestnut Inn, and before heading back to Albany, Bob and I stopped for an early dinner at a place named Crane’s Restaurant in Deposit. What I found out that day, helped me to piece together the truth about RA.


Sent from my iPhone

The Summer of 1962.... continued

I will spare you every last detail of our "1962 summer romance adventure" since you were kind enough to listen to me rattle on about our wonderful times with Golden, Lyle and Stanley Decker.
As promised, RA and Fergie, arrived the next evening at the cottage and took us out for a date.  I believe we may have gone to Hansen's Resort or the Aqua Lodge for music and a drink.
The next night we were driven rather rapidly down the steep and winding mountain lake road in RA's car ( I think it was a station wagon) to a bar called the Solitude Inn on Route 17.  It appeared to be a place frequented mostly by some rough-and-ready cowboy types and very few women.   I can still remember the smokey, stale beer smell that hit you in the face when you walked in and the way the guys at the bar turned around and stared.   We didn't sit at the bar but at a tiny, rather junkie little table off to the side.  I never felt threatened as RA and Fergie knew some of the guys at the bar and chatted with them briefly when we arrived.  Although it was an interesting place to see, there wasn't much to do there and I don't remember staying very long.   For years afterwards Sharon and I would sing-song, "Say Howdy Dowdy to Solitudy" whenever we drove past the Solitude Inn on our way to and from "the country"
 (A brief aside to explain what I mean by " the country":   I have always called the area around Binghamton, NY and Friendsville, PA and St. Joseph, PA.  "the country".   My Grandpa T. J. O'Donnell always referred to the farm where he grew up in St. Joseph's PA as " The Garden Spot of America" and "God's Country".  It is a beautiful spot that in recent times is referred to in all the tour books, as the Endless Mountains of Pennsylvania.  A lot of Irish Immigrants settled in the area (one of the roads is actually called Irish Hill) because it reminded them so much of home.  But, as usual, I digress.)
I believe it was the 2nd or 3rd date night when RA told me that something important had come up and he wasn't available for the next evening's planned trip to Owego or Oswego ( I always get them mixed up) with Sharon and Fergie and me.  He told me he had arranged to have have his friend escort me that evening instead. I can only imagine that this arrangement had a lot to do with Fergie not wanting to give up his planned date with Sharon.  Having met my Aunt Marie, he knew full well that Sharon would not have been allowed to go alone with him to Owego.     I remember being disappointed that I wouldn't be seeing RA.  I also remember that this guy he sent in his place was about the most boring date I ever had in my enter life.  He was totally uninterested in me and I was not in any way interested in him.  The next night, RA was back on the scene, raring to go.  I was happy and it appeared to me that he was happy too.
One night the four of us went down into Deposit and sat in a booth at a local bar and had a hamburger and fries.  It was on Main Street in town across the street from the Movie Theater and the Super M Market.  Back in the summer of 62, RA and Fergie seemed to know everyone in the place.  I guess that's what it's like if you are born and breed in a town the size of Deposit, NY.  I don't remember being introduced to any of their friends, though.  Each night when we went out, RA spoke about himself a lot.  He talked about his "good Daddy" and his "bad Daddy"(i.e., his step dad).  He spoke about his job in road construction.  He was a bit sarcastic, but he seemed reasonable enough and had a decent sense of humor.  I don't remember him asking much about me or my life.
That summer Sharon left to go back to the city (rather, Freeport, Long Island)  before my parents' rental at the Farmhouse was finished so I went to stay with my family at the Farmhouse for a few nights before our vacation was over.   The night before my family and I were scheduled to go back to Brooklyn, RA, took me out for dinner at a restaurant in Town called Crane's.  It was a little more upscale than the hamburger joint on Main Street and I remember dressing a little fancier, albeit very modestly, and spending a little more time on my hair and makeup.  I was feeling confident when we sat down at a table in the dining section.  RA went to the bar to get us drinks and he took longer than necessary to complete this simple transaction.  I could see from where I was sitting ( a half wall separated the bar area from the dining area )that it appeared to me that he was in a bit of a confrontational verbal interaction with some people near the bar.  When he arrived back at the table, I asked if everything was okay and he he said, yes, but I could feel the tension all around us.  We finished our meal and left.   I will finish the rest of this story tomorrow because it as a bit emotional for me and I am too tired tonight.

The Summer of 1962

Summer of 1962

The next summer Sharon and I were 17.  We were older and wiser, or so we thought. This year we were staying in a really tiny cottage on the other side of the Lake.  The occupants were Sharon’s Mother, my Aunt Marie O’Donnell, Sharon and me and Sharon’s younger sister, Diane, and her good friend, Renee.  We were packed into the place, but we didn't mind the cozy feeling. My "cousin of the heart", and Stanley Decker’s sweetheart, was not with us that summer.  I’m guessing it may had had something to do with the fact that her mother didn’t want to risk sending her away on vacation again with the Fries Family and company. 

My family and my Aunt Margie and Uncle Bill and their family and my Grandpa O’Donnell and Aunt Anne were all staying in Scott’s farmhouse where we had stayed the year before. 

We failed to find the Decker Brothers even after our Uncle Bill Foulkes had given it his best shot.  Instead, that first evening at the Lake, Sharon and I went with my Aunt Marie, my Aunt Anne, my Aunt Margie and my Mom to the Chestnut Lodge for a drink and a little socialization.  I guess the men stayed back at the Farmhouse to oversee the younger family members. Although technically below the legal drinking age of 18, Sharon and I sat at a table in the main dining room of the Lodge and ordered a drink (probably a soda but possibly a rum and coke or Tom Collinsn). They weren’t as particular about checking Identification back at that time in history and we may have had fake birth certificates anyway, like most of the kids of the era. Besides we were less than a year away from the legal drinking age of 18.  

There was an Masters-of Ceremony at the Chestnut Lodge who was doing his best to bring people together. He was using some silly ice breaker games as a means of introduction.  I remember being coaxed into joining an activity that involved unraveling toilet paper.  Before we knew it the MC had very smoothly moved us to a table where these two guys were sitting alone.    This was how Sharon and I met our next set of country men ( Notice I didn’t use that prejudiced terminology, “Hillbillies”. )

 I want to mention that for the purpose of this story I will be using pseudo-names.  As the story progresses I believe the reasons for anonymity will become clear. So let’s just call these country men RA and Fergie.   Sharon was paired up with Fergie and I was paired up with a fellow named RA.   Back in 1962 the thing to do to show chivalry and interest was to offer to buy a lady a drink and so RA did just that.  And, since I knew very little about alcohol beverages at that point in my life, RA suggested that I could take a sip of his Gin and Tonic to see if I wanted one of those. I took a tiny swallow and thought it was a most horrifying taste - more like bitter medicine than anything one would drink for pleasure.  No wonder it is called tonic I thought.  Not wanting to look like a mere child I probably quickly ordered something like a rum and coke which was the one mixed drink I could tolerate.  Since I wasn’t much of a drinker, I sipped on that one drink for the rest of the evening.  I remember having quite a bit of fun and when it was getting time to leave, these “older men” (probably 4 or 5 years older than us with real jobs - RA worked road construction which I thought was cool) asked to drive us back to the cottage.  They told us they wanted to pick us up for a date the following evening and needed to see where we were staying.  We went into the bar area where my Aunts and my Mom were sitting at a table, chatting. They obviously were not leaving while we were sitting in the next room having drinks with two total strangers.  “No way in hell are we leaving you here” was written all over their faces.  When we told them that our new found male friends wanted to drive us back to the cottage, they initially said “no”.  Of course Sharon and I began to beg and promised that they were responsible young men and that we would go immediately to our cottage.  We even brought RA and Fergie into the bar area to introduce them to the ladies. The men were very polite and promised they would drive slowly and carefully directly back to our cottage. After exhibiting their best behavior my Aunts and Mom finally consented to let the guys drive us around to the other side of the Lake.  We walked hastily to the parking lot and got into the car with RA and Fergie.  As soon as we pulled away from the Chestnut Lodge we realized that our older, wiser female protectors were practically glued to the back of Fergie’s car.  Till this day, I don’t know how those four Ladies paid the bill and got out to their vehicle so quickly.  They followed close behind us all the way back to the cottage.  Not sure what exactly they would have done should our country men made the decision to take off down the road in the opposite direction.  Knowing my Aunt Marie, she probably would have followed in hot pursuit! She was a feisty little woman, that Marie Murphy O’Donnell. 

The 1st photo above is the cottage we stayed at with Aunt Marie Murphy O'Donnell in the summer of 1962 (The photo where the cottage looks really dilapidated was taken somewhere between 1962 and before the cottage photo was taken in 2018 - as you will notice someone updated the cottage, painted it brown and gave it a new life) and the two mermaids photo was taken on July 7, 1962 at the Afton Fair in Afton, NY when our Grandpa TJ O'Donnell took us there. My younger brother, Marty, also had a funny photo taken that day at the fair.  He was in a salon, sitting next to TJ and he was holding a bottle of whiskey.  Both TJ and Marty had Bowler type hats on.  I don't know exactly where that picture is right now.  If I come across it I will add it to this blog entry. 

The Decker Brothers - A Glimpse into 1961

If you want to take a step back in time, why not plan a trip to Scott's Casino and Lake House on beautiful Lake Oquaga in Deposit, NY.   You'll probably need to wait until next Spring or early Summer because I don't think there are any rooms available in the Winter.  Besides, even in the best of weather, there is not much in the line of overnight accommodations in or around Deposit, NY.  It is a rustic, economically depressed area.  But, and this is an important "but", I doubt you'll find such an experience anyplace else.  It is truly like entering a time machine and exiting into the 1950's!.  Stop in at Scott's Lake House  and walk up to the Glass Candy Case and order yourself an Ice Cream Cone
(at a very reasonable price) or possibly play some shuffleboard.  It is exactly the same shuffleboard I played a game or two on back in August 1961.  Maybe you'll want to try your hand at bowling.  Just make sure there is someone available to pick up the pins as there is absolutely no automation at this four lane bowling alley.

Some contact information : Scott's Lake House - call Patty and Gary @ 607- 298-6083 to inquire about hours, etc.  Once in awhile they have dinners offered in the Lakeside Room and, if they are not already booked, you can join them.  Once again, things are rustic and informal.  Gary is the bar tender ( wine and beer only) before dinner and plays piano and sings after dinner.  My husband had a ball singing along to the Karaoke that followed.  Gary is also the guy who captains the showboat around the pristine waters and takes guests out to water ski and do some tubing around the Lake.
We rented a cottage for one week through a guy named Billy Maine.  He and his wife have a cottage on the Lake and not too many years ago renovated and operated the absolutely gorgeous Chestnut Inn. Sadly, although it is still in very excellent condition, it sits lifeless overlooking the Lake.  I was wondering if we got a group together, if we could convince him to open the place up for a week or possibly a long weekend.  I had the opportunity to walk through the Inn this past summer and it looks like all you'd need to do is put sheets on the beds and you'd be ready to go.  Billy Maine is a really nice guy.  Maybe we could persuade him!  The number I have for Maine's is 607-779-1203 and the e-mail address is karen.chier@maines.net - Just don't try to book the third week in July.  That's mine!

Why not look on a New York State map for this little town named Deposit.  There is one supermarket ( I think it is called Super M Market)  on the main street right next to the Movie Theater.  Once again, both these places have not changed in appearance (they just look a little more run down) since we spent our vacation at Lake Oquaga in July 1961.  The Lake is a little spring fed " beauty " up the hill from there. (It is off Route 17, approximately a 4 hour ride from New York City).

Now don't loose heart if you can't get there in person    As a second best option, check out Season II of the Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.   This year during the entire month of June, and without much effort, Scott's was transformed into the Steiner's Mountain House in the Catskill Mountains (1960's era),  and episodes 4, 5 and 6 were filmed on location.   A great many of the 240 extras utilized during the filming were from the local countryside.  I hear it was the most exciting thing to happen in Deposit in many years, except of course for the annual Lumberjack Festival/Carnival held the 3rd weekend in July.   The Scott Family decided to allow "Hollywood" to descend on them for the month since the owners admit to having made an error in judgment years ago when they were approached about using their resort for the filming of a little movie called Dirty Dancing!! Being the nice guys they were then and are now, the Scott Family turned down the offer not wanting to turn their faithful guests away for an entire summer.  Besides, no one expected this movie to become the huge success it turned out to be.