Plymouth Rocks

Plymouth does rock but the post title refers to two significant rocks located in Plymouth, Massachusetts. One is very famous, the other not so much.

The first time I set eyes upon Plymouth Rock I was a bit surprised. Okay, maybe very surprised. This large Roman-like structure was impressive as we drove by, parked, and walked past the sign announcing the Rock's presence.

This picture is not from my first trip to see Plymouth Rock, that was with my mom many years ago. But the structure was the same back then. It sits aside Plymouth Harbor, and is even more impressive at night under an almost full moon.

If you spend enough time in Plymouth you'll probably hear it referred to as "Plymouth Pebble". Not so respectful of such a beloved landmark, but if you've been there you know why. Here is a view of the Rock from the top of the structure that houses it, and a view of the harbor from the top.

 

We all know the story of the Pilgrims' landing at Plymouth Rock in 1620. Some of us may be aware that the Rock may not actually be where the Pilgrims landed. What most of us probably don't learn in school is the actual story of the Rock and its changes throughout history. When you see it in person, you'll wonder how the Pilgrims managed to land on such a small rock. Maybe 392 years of sand washing up on the beach has taken a toll on its magnificence.

Not sand, but hands.

In 1774 the Rock was split in two pieces. The top half was moved to the Plymouth meeting house and the bottom left in the sand. In 1834 it was moved to Pilgrim Hall. In 1859 the structure you see below (courtesy of Wikipedia) was begun to house the portion of the Rock still in the sand, and when it was completed in 1867 the top was brought back. Gates were eventually added to deter souvenir hunters. The structure pictured above replaced the original structure in 1920. 

The hands come in prior to the gates. Numerous pieces of the Rock were taken as souvenirs. A piece was sent to the Smithsonian, some still remain in Pilgrim Hall (now a museum), and another in the Plymouth Church of the Pilgrims.

The other rock is not housed in a grand canopy on the edge of Plymouth Harbor. Nor has it been chipped down to size by souvenir hunters over the years. It sits on the side of a road that is only partially paved, surrounded by trees and brush.

It took us awhile to find this rock, which sits on the side of Old Sandwich Road and even has a number (394). By the time we did the sun was interfering with the pictures. But we were only in the area for a day, so we had to make do. This rock is known as Sacrifice Rock. From the Plymouth Antiquarian Society: 

Everyone knows Plymouth Rock, but how many have visited Plymouth's other historic rock? Sacrifice Rock on Old Sandwich Road is the Antiquarian Society's oldest and perhaps least known historic site. Centuries before the arrival of English settlers to the area, this ancient landmark was an important stop for wayfarers. Travelers left small branches or stones atop the rock perhaps as a gesture of sacrifice, or to receive the blessing of safe passage -- the full meaning of the custom is shrouded by time.

Generations of Pokanoket and other native people en route between Plymouth and points south and west placed their offerings on Sacrifice Rock and over time created a great stick formation. Plymoutheans in the 19th century were familiar with the ancient accumulation, although it was later destroyed by fire. Local historian William T. Davis discussed Sacrifice Rock and other examples of this type of ritual site in Ancient Landmarks of Plymouth:

These rocks, still covered with small branches, etc., remain as monuments of aboriginal religious rites. Like the Manittoo Asseinah or Spirit Rocks of the Western Indians, they have always received homage of branches from the natives, who passed them reverently as the abodes of the Great Spirit, as they went on in silence.

There is a plaque on top that reads: 

Sacrifice Rock

Manittoo Asseinah

Indian Name Meaning

God's Rock

Not everyone has forgotten about Sacrifice Rock. Even with the shadows you can see the coins and small rocks people have left behind.

There is a quiet beauty about the place, as if you can still feel the spirit of the travelers that left offerings to God. 

In my car I've kept a rock for many years, given to me by a dear friend. It's a long story, but connected with some very personal things in my life. During our day in the Plymouth area, I took a pilgrimage to a store that my mom loved, and while I was there I found a head's up penny on the ground. I put the penny in my car, and almost forgot about it. Before we left Sacrifice Rock, I decided to place the rock my friend had given me on top with the others, and added the penny for my mom. My husband said that he thought the rock was special to me, and I replied that I guess that was the point.

Around the corner is a street named for this little piece of the world:

The development that sits off this road looks new and expensive. I felt a little twinge of sadness that this ancient site was being swallowed up, but when I returned home and read the Antiquarian Society's piece about Sacrifice Rock, it ended with this:

Few of today's travelers stop at Sacrifice Rock, which is located right on the edge of the road with no convenient parking at hand. A plan proposed by The Pinehills, an extensive residential development that abuts the site, may allow improved access to Sacrifice Rock while honoring its historic character. The plan includes an extended buffer area with a walking trail and a pocket park for Sacrifice Rock. If implemented, the improvements may put Plymouth's other Rock back on the map, and help to highlight an ancient part of the region's diverse history. 

I hope that I will have the opportunity to revisit the area when this plan is put in place. It will be nice to see it given the honor it deserves.

 

   

Free Advice to Those Who Freely Employ a Certain Finger While Driving

Road work has caused hellish weekends locally for those folks traveling up the Northway. A recent 10 minute trip took us an hour, but my husband was dozing and I had an Elton John CD in the player so we were good. We were on our way to a wedding rehearsal and had plenty of time.

Eventually we got stuck in bumper to bumper traffic going north on the alternate suggested route (of course), sitting about four or five cars back from a red light. There is a median here, large enough for a car to fit comfortably without issue for merging and turning.

The light changed, and shortly thereafter I took my foot off the brake and began accelerating. Not very fast, but still moving forward.

Suddenly a truck flew out from somewhere on the left, into the median, and without hesitation into the lane I was moving forward in. Luckily I saw him in time and slammed on my brakes. I missed him by inches. Also luckily for me the car behind me saw him as well and narrowly missed rear-ending me.

I know some of you will accuse me of having road rage, but I freely admit to honking my horn. I didn't lay on it until everyone's ears bled, just honked it. It was a knee-jerk reaction.

His response, naturally, was to hang his arm out of his window and give me the finger.

Now, having driven for many many years, I am almost used to the rudeness and stupidity of drivers of this type. This time, however, the stupidity level of the driver made me laugh out loud.

He has his own business cleaning and maintaining pools, and his name and number are plastered all over his truck. Yes it was a local number, yes I wrote it down, and no I will not provide it here. The only clue I'll give is that he uses his first name in the ad on the back of his truck.

Will I ever use him if needed? Nope. If given the opportunity will I relate the story to family and friends? Yup. Did this local small business person just shoot himself in the foot with a whole bunch of potential customers who also have family and friends? Most certainly.

So maybe next time you want to be the cause of a potential accident and cannot take responsibility for your carelessness and/or blame the person you narrowly victimized, make sure you're not driving your company vehicle.

Be careful driving out there friends!

And watch out for the pool guy who advertises on his truck using his own name.

I'm Such a Girl

Last night my husband and I attended a rehearsal dinner for the wedding of an old high school buddy of hubby's (he's in the wedding). The groom handed out gifts to all the groomsmen, and half of the larger gifts were wrapped in Sesame Street paper. The guys are all old friends of the groom and/or high school pals like my husband. I turned to one of the high school friends, whom I happen to know well, and asked him what the significance of the Sesame Street paper was.

He laughed and said, "You're such a girl."

I asked why.

He answered, "All it means is that he ran of the other kind of paper and used what he had on hand so he didn't have to go shopping again."

Off to celebrate, enjoy your Sunday!

A Certain Genetic Look

I am not a supermodel, nor have I ever played one on t.v. And you wouldn't catch me dead on a reality show. Not that I'd ever qualify, according to a certain movie blogger. Up to this point in my life, mothers haven't pulled their children away from me, so I think I'm good. (I've been to many a big city and the same applies, just noting that up front.)

Lots of people live where I live, beautiful Upstate New York, close to so many equally beautiful places like the Catskills, Lake George, Saratoga, the Adirondack Mountains, Thousand Islands, the Finger Lakes, Niagara Falls.

One of the things these places have in common is that they all could be located in Upstate New York. I use 'could' because the exact location of 'Upstate New York' is not an officially agreed upon location except for one thing. It does not include New York City and the surrounding area, including Long Island. There's an explanation here if you're so inclined.

And apparently, most of the people who live in Upstate New York, or as the author of this gem called it, Upper New York State, have a definite disadvantage when it comes to the looks department:

"There's a certain genetic look to the men and women of Upper New York State, and they aren't the kind of people who pose for magazine covers or star in reality shows."

My parents didn't know each other before they met, and in fact came from different areas of the state. It is well documented in a family tree that there is no possibility they were blood relations. So perhaps I shouldn't take personally this blogger's implication that we're all inbred or worse around these here parts. Even so, I wouldn't pass his magazine cover or reality show star test. 

Oh well, such is life I suppose.

But I do take exception to this blogger's comments. 

I understand there are people out there who thrive on shock and insults and saying mean things. I usually feel sorry for them. If they are doing it deliberately to draw attention to themselves then they're pitiable. Getting ahead on the backs of others is sad. If they are truly that miserable that they have to spew nastiness at every opportunity then I feel sorry for them. Life is way too short to spend it spreading misery everywhere you go. There's enough misery out of our control already.  

I don't know why Derek Cianfrance chose to make his movie "Place Beyond the Pines" in Schenectady, New York. He discusses his idea for the movie here, and from what I read it sounds as if the story was developed for the movie as opposed to being based on a book. In any case, the title of the movie roughly equates to the English translation of 'Schenectady', a Mohawk Indian word that refers to a place beyond the pine plains.

It was quite an event to have a movie filmed in our neck of the woods. It's fun to watch the movie when it is out and try to figure out which parts were filmed in places you would recognize. Not that it hasn't happened before. Scenes for Ghost Story were filmed in Saratoga, as were Saratoga, The Way We Were, and many others. Albany has seen its fair share, including Salt and Ironweed. Schenectady was also used for location shoots in The Way We Were. 

I haven't seen the movie yet. I might, I might not. You know how that goes. And there's always Netflix if you miss the theatre release. Regardless, my decision to see it or not will be based on many factors, none of which are movie reviews or the opinions of bloggers. Not everyone has the same taste, so I prefer to judge for myself. 

One thing I certainly wouldn't do, assuming that I didn't like the movie, is decide to bash an entire population of people during a negative review of said movie. This particular blogger  did not seem to like the movie very much. If you've followed the link and read the entire review, you know what I mean. If you haven't, here's the part that is pretty offensive, not only to me but to anyone who lives in 'Upper New York State':

"I also felt that Mendes and Byrne are too hot to live in Schenectady. Beauty almost always migrates to the big cities where the power and the security lie, and in my experience the women who reside in blue-collar hell holes like Schenectady are far less attractive as a rule. There's a certain genetic look to the men and women of Upper New York State, and they aren't the kind of people who pose for magazine covers or star in reality shows."

He is referring to Eva Mendes and Rose Byrne. 

Granted, they are both attractive women. And having lived in the Capital District all of my life, I can say with absolute certainty that there are women (and men too) living here equally as attractive. I doubt that this person will take my word for it though. He bases his assertion on the fact that he's been here:

"...the general malaise that comes from living in the pure hell and suffocation of Schenectady and those Siberian environs...I've been up there and it's awful so don't tell me."

I also haven't see the devil hanging around anywhere, and I have no problems breathing either, unless the allergy season is in full swing. And this has to be the first time I've heard our area referred to as "Siberian". I wonder what he thinks of Canada? 

Having read additional musings by this person, there is probably no point in arguing any facts with him. I doubt that his visits to Schenectady (assuming there were more than one) constituted more than a drive-through. There are many areas of Schenectady besides downtown, some good, some not so good, which is no different than any other area, big or small, including big cities like New York or L.A. As with the inhabitants, some good, some not so good, in any capacity whether it be looks, smarts, money. And I may be wrong. It could be that he has spent some time in Schenectady but it was hard to see through the dark-tinted windows of his limo so he just assumed it was bad because Schenectady is located in 'Upper New York State.' Or maybe he stayed at a Schenectady hotel and had trouble with the wireless connection in his room.

Sorry, I let a little snark slip out.

A local newspaper blogger had something to say about the review. He of course had a rebuttal. I read more of his reviews and other articles by and about him, and I am not all all surprised by his attitude and opinions. And as with any other person who posts deliberately demeaning things he has a flock of defenders who jump on his bandwagon and share in the delight of putting down the residents here. Sadly, some of the folks in this case seem to live in the area. Makes me wonder why they haven't moved yet. But for the most part I roll my eyes and shake my head. This is the Internet folks, and if this blogger feels he is entitled to make sweeping generalizations then so do I. I am sure that 90% of the people who cheer him on are sad little people who spend all day on the Internet taking up the cause of the vitriol-spewers, hiding behind the anonymity of their computer screens.

At the end of his second post re the 'certain genetic look' of we Upper New York Staters, crafted I am sure to make certain we get his message, he writes : "And this is pretty much true -- face it, rurals."

So now I live in a rural area. Does this mean I have to turn in my indoor plumbing and get an outhouse? Or maybe my street should be dug up and reset with dirt? Better yet, how about we tear down the two large shopping malls nearby and replace them with cow pastures. Someone should suggest to Governor Cuomo that we bulldoze the South Mall and use the space to plant corn. It would be nice if we could keep the State Capitol though. It's a lovely building and would certainly complement the corn fields.

I get that this blogger feels he has to suspend belief because he thinks the actors are too good-looking to live in our area. He is certainly entitled to his opinion. And while I do agree that the folks who aspire to be actors or models migrate to the bigger cities to take advantage of the opportunities there, the fact remains that they were still born where they were born. Not only that, but many folks blessed with movie star looks don't have a desire to appear in front of a camera and are perfectly content to spend their lives in their hometown.

What I don't get is why he feels compelled to insult not only the folks who live in Schenectady, but depending on your definition, any New York State residents who do not live Downstate? How does that constitute a valid movie review? And by that methodology, how does this blogger manage to sit through any film that has beautiful people actors but is not set in a big city full of beautiful people? 

Just for the record, I don't live in Schenectady. I do live in the Capital District, and most likely in Upstate New York. I love my hometown and the surrounding communities. And I love New York City.    

Not only that, I am happy to have that certain genetic look. It comes from my ancestors, many of whom were pretty darn attractive. Lucky for me they didn't migrate to the Big City to appear on a magazine cover or star in a reality show. 

I wouldn't have the great life I do then, would I?

Even with my 'certain genetic look'.

Reasons Why I Love to Drive

I'm taking a poll.

How many of you think that most drivers don't remember what a red yield sign means?










(hint)

A Day at the Races Part 2

This week saw the end of the Saratoga Racing season and the beginning of school for most kids in these parts. So much trauma in one short week!

Here are more sights of Saratoga to ease you through.

An awesome artist, Celeste Susany. (And my mom's favorite Saratoga artist!)

Watching the action from the picnic tables.

Even the New York Times made an appearance!

The Paddock area.

 

 

 

Saratoga is known for her mineral springs. These naturally carbonated springs have been raved about for hundreds of years. The Mohawk tribe (of whom Kateri Tekakwitha was a member. She is the first American Indian to be canonized, which will happen this year on October 21st.) and Iroquois tribe believed that the springs had healing powers and both bathed in the waters and drank from the springs. Early American settlers to the area took the same advantage of the springs as did people throughout the decades, and today there are 17 public springs still located in the area.

The Race Course is no exception to the spring frenzy. The track has its own, located near the paddock area. The Big Red Spring is named after two famous chestnut race horses nicknamed 'Big Red' by racing fans. Man O'War and Secretariat were champion race horses who ran at Saratoga and are considered #1 and #2 respectively in the list of top 100 race horses of the twentieth century.  

Just be sure to bring your own bottle!

 

 

As long-time fans of New York City's Shake Shack, we were delighted when they opened up shop at the track a few years ago in the Post area.

 

In case you were wondering what Santa does during his summer vacation, here's a hint.

The Saratoga Arts Council commissioned life-sized fiberglass horses that have been displayed throughout Saratoga in years past. Here, here, here and here are some pictures others have captured of them. I'll end with a picture of the painted pony that stands outside the main gates of the track.

Until next year!