Where freedom still rings
And her beauty still sings
Subconsciously, I think I’ve always been on a quest to find my own true feelings, which are decidedly mixed, and still exist when it comes to the characterization of my hometown, Dolgeville, New York (link). Novels, poems, and other literary works about American rural communities reveal the many diverse ways our nation has viewed small towns, and the people like me who lived in them — all while playing out their lives on a small stage.
Perhaps, for that reason, their eccentricities, dreams, and daily concerns, stand out more than their big city counterparts. Otherwise, they are probably no different or less complex than the rest of the human race.
This is what I once penned about my hometown;
Take any picture of an upstate village in the 1940s, color it with a golden glow, shade it with elms, frame it with woods and water, and you have Dolgeville, New York. It remains one of those quintessential hamlets in “Leatherstocking” country, cradled in the hands of God, and gently laid down in a peaceful valley at the foothills of the Adirondack mountains — appearing as though idealistically illustrated by the gifted hands of Norman Rockwell.
In the ’40s and ’50s, America woke up every day to a republic replete with peace, hope, and harmony — not a perfect time, but one in which our country’s goal was to foster an idealistic world. We were a nation that believed in God, strong relationships, patriotism, optimism, idealism, and good-natured fun. It felt like all was well with the world, and we were one with the day. You will meet some very determined and personable people who still believe that some of the greatest treasures are often found in small, out-of-the-way places. No matter what the season, there is always a reason to take a drive there, and return home with a full cup of cozy and drink in the magical splendor of what it means to be a part of Central New York Leatherstocking Country.
Like most people who grew up in small villages back then, I cherish the times and memories we are more than eager to share with anyone who will just sit and listen.
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That’s it for now from the wired woodshed.
Blessings, my dear friends,