An automated car wash is coming to town.
RJ Photography

By Bob Gaydos

In the category of trying to find something to write about today other than the election, I found myself thinking about riding through town the other day and talking to myself in my head about all the new developments happening at the same time.

    I realized I sounded like Garrison Keillor on Prairie Home Companion giving the weekly news from Lake Wobegon. I also realized that, in the absence of anything resembling a daily local newspaper, a lot of folks might not be aware of these new developments. So, in lieu of politics and to satisfy my urge to write, with a tip of the hat to Prairie Home Companion, here’s the news this week from Lake … I mean, Pine Bush, New York.

    Well, for starters, that new Dunkin’ finally opened as a drive-through with a couple of outdoor tables. People noticed. The lines were long. The old Dunkin’ had to be knocked down and rebuilt after someone drove into it, literally drove into it, in the middle of the night causing considerable structural damage. I believe alcohol was involved.

    Just up the road, only a few hundred feet, the promised automated car wash was finally taking shape on a formerly vacant lot between two financial institutions. And, in the very same neighborhood, within only a few hundred feet of each other, two new haircutting establishments had opened, bringing to three the number in that same small neighborhood.

     And the kicker, for me anyway, driving out the other end of town on Main Street there’s a big sign in the window of what was formerly the Oriental House restaurant. To my unhappy surprise, The Korean/Japanese restaurant closed — “PERMANENTLY” — a few weeks ago as it said on my phone when I Googled for a takeout order. Apparently, Mr. and Mrs. Oh, who were pretty much a two-person team for 30 years in the middle of downtown Pine Bush, had finally decided to retire. At least that’s my assumption. But I was crestfallen. What to do?

      Well, that sign in the front window says, “Coming Soon. Korean Kitchen. New Ownership. Mrs. Bulgogi.” Be still my heart. Thank you and be well, Mr. and Mrs. Oh.

      I look forward to soon being able to ride into town and grab a coffee at Dunkin’, get a haircut at the establishment of my choice, get the truck squeaky clean and grab a delicious Korean dinner (and maybe some sushi) on the way home. A perfect day.

   Anyway, that’s the non-election news from downtown Pine Bush, New York, where aliens sometimes land and Halloween is a really big deal and the local daily newspaper has virtually disappeared. Until next time, be safe.

    And don’t forget to vote.

An automated car wash is coming to town.
RJ Photography

By Bob Gaydos

In the category of trying to find something to write about today other than the election, I found myself thinking about riding through town the other day and talking to myself in my head about all the new developments happening at the same time.

    I realized I sounded like Garrison Keillor on Prairie Home Companion giving the weekly news from Lake Wobegon. I also realized that, in the absence of anything resembling a daily local newspaper, a lot of folks might not be aware of these new developments. So, in lieu of politics and to satisfy my urge to write, with a tip of the hat to Prairie Home Companion, here’s the news this week from Lake … I mean, Pine Bush, New York.

    Well, for starters, that new Dunkin’ finally opened as a drive-through with a couple of outdoor tables. People noticed. The lines were long. The old Dunkin’ had to be knocked down and rebuilt after someone drove into it, literally drove into it, in the middle of the night causing considerable structural damage. I believe alcohol was involved.

    Just up the road, only a few hundred feet, the promised automated car wash was finally taking shape on a formerly vacant lot between two financial institutions. And, in the very same neighborhood, within only a few hundred feet of each other, two new haircutting establishments had opened, bringing to three the number in that same small neighborhood.

     And the kicker, for me anyway, driving out the other end of town on Main Street there’s a big sign in the window of what was formerly the Oriental House restaurant. To my unhappy surprise, The Korean/Japanese restaurant closed — “PERMANENTLY” — a few weeks ago as it said on my phone when I Googled for a takeout order. Apparently, Mr. and Mrs. Oh, who were pretty much a two-person team for 30 years in the middle of downtown Pine Bush, had finally decided to retire. At least that’s my assumption. But I was crestfallen. What to do?

      Well, that sign in the front window says, “Coming Soon. Korean Kitchen. New Ownership. Mrs. Bulgogi.” Be still my heart. Thank you and be well, Mr. and Mrs. Oh.

      I look forward to soon being able to ride into town and grab a coffee at Dunkin’, get a haircut at the establishment of my choice, get the truck squeaky clean and grab a delicious Korean dinner (and maybe some sushi) on the way home. A perfect day.

   Anyway, that’s the non-election news from downtown Pine Bush, New York, where aliens sometimes land and Halloween is a really big deal and the local daily newspaper has virtually disappeared. Until next time, be safe.

    And don’t forget to vote.

Oh, for a cup of hot coffee.

By Bob Gaydos

    When you spend much of your grown life sharing your  opinions on topics ranging from presidential politics to the marvels of watermelon, it kind of becomes a habit. Sometimes, as you grow older, fewer people are interested in your opinions, on politics or anything else. Also, sometimes as you grow older, you tend to voice your opinion on those watermelon topics out loud a bit more frequently. That’s when the ‘C’ Word sometimes enters the conversation.

    Curmudgeon.

    Translation: Old guy with opinions. This is not to be confused with senior political pundit, who occasionally might be an old guy with opinions.

    In any event, I embraced the curmudgeon label 18 years ago when I retired from daily newspapers. Had to. The heart-warming retirement tribute published for the occasion called me one. Me and Andy Rooney, I figured. Good company. (If you don’t know who Andy Rooney was, you’re too young to read this column.)

    So when the word popped up in conversations a couple of times recently, good-heartedly I should add, it didn’t bother me. Rather, it reminded me. There’s a place for curmudgeons in society. A need in fact. Else, how would people ever be aware of some of the little annoyances most people are just too polite to point out?

     For starters, I think every business that serves the public needs a resident curmudgeon to point out things that leave customers shaking their heads.

    For example, if you’re a legendary “fast-food” place with drive-through windows and arches and everything, shouldn’t you be able to pour two cups of hot coffee, any size, any time, to a customer without asking them to “please pull over to the waiting area while we put another pot of coffee on”? Isn’t that what you’re selling? Speed and convenience? Doesn’t anybody know how to say, “Hey, put another pot on”? And is there any reason other than lack of attention for this practice to become an acceptable routine? Just asking.

   While we’re on the subject of coffee, if you open a new, (very) small dining establishment, hoping to attract customers for breakfast, brunch or lunch, why would you serve your customers coffee in a paper cup? They can get that at the local drive-through if they’re willing to wait. Sitting down to eat should guarantee a real cup with a real handle. And honestly, is it too much to expect someone to taste the coffee to make sure it’s more than lukewarm?

   And, not to be picky, but if you happen to own a really busy dining establishment, with lots of satisfied customers coming and going, shouldn’t someone on the payroll notice that the front door, every time it’s opened, always closes with a loud slam. Always. Slam! It could make someone sitting too close to the door spill his coffee. It’s not … quaint.

   But then, maybe no one noticed … the waiting, the paper cup, the cold coffee, the slam. People are busy trying to do their jobs, maybe too busy. That’s why I think every business needs a resident curmudgeon to ask the annoying questions.

   And obviously, I could really use a good cup of coffee before I go back to politics.

        (Dedicated to Sean and Ernie.)

By Jeffrey Page

The Fake President

In late 1963, I was working a go-nowhere job for an airport shipping firm when I got an important phone call from George Trow, the night managing editor of the New York Post, telling me that the copyboy’s position I’d applied for was available.

Was I still interested, he inquired.

“When should I report,” I asked. Easy answer, my having been raised in a newspaper-reading family and believing that newspaper reporters and editors were important people.

Thus, a career began in those hazy distant days.

And oh yes, Mr. Trow said as he cleared his throat, the shift began at 1 a.m., and the pay was $48 a week. I was getting $65 at the airport. I took the job at the Post. One a.m.? $48? My father was aghast.

This was two months after the JFK assassination. The work at the Post was menial: I re-filled paste pots, I took coffee and sandwich orders from the night staff, I kept the reporters well-supplied with copy paper for their stories and the copy editors well-supplied with sharp pencils to edit stories and write headlines. I ran galley proofs and page proofs back and forth between the composing room and the copy desk.

Menial yes, but, it turned out, the start of a 42-year adventure. I worked for several dailies. At each of them we delivered to readers the information they needed, the scores of the sports events they had bet on, the features they enjoyed, some columnists they admired and others they loathed.

In my newspaper decades I covered some presidential campaigns. I wrote a great deal about transportation. Late in career, I got a general column. I interviewed the great Cesar Chavez. I went to Normandy for the 50th anniversary of the D-Day invasion.

Once, I found myself sitting across from Ray Charles who was in town to publicize a singing jingle promoting a new game in the New Jersey Lottery. Charles looked miserable and I had no idea what to ask this genius now reduced to singing commercials late in his career. I filed four dull paragraphs; it was enough.

There were thousands of other stories about politics, about people with interesting careers, about crime. I even found the abandoned creamery in the Catskills where Patricia Hearst spent a year in hiding.

Nowadays the voice in the Oval Office refers to what he has determined to be “Fake News,” which, if I understand it, means any news our Fake President doesn’t care for. An example: He really doesn’t like to be reminded that he drew nearly 3 million fewer votes than Hillary Clinton in last year’s election.

In addition to slandering the press as a purveyor of “fake news,” Trump maligns the entire news industry by labeling the press “enemies of the American people,” which is a lie.

By attacking American news gathering this way Trump forgets where he gets the right to speak his own fake mind in any newspaper he might someday choose to publish. He seems to forget a lot, such as the fact that the press is one of only two occupations specifically protected in the Bill of Rights: Congress shall make no law abridging the freedom of speech or of the press, it says in the First Amendment. (The clergy has such protection as well.)

The need for a vibrant First Amendment has become more and more apparent in the months since Trump took office. Perhaps more than ever it has become clear that our democracy’s survival depends on a free and unfettered press.

A lot of people have fought to defend the United States Constitution. The Fake President was not one of them.

Would Trump dismiss Jefferson as a fake revolutionary? After all, it was Jefferson who uttered the familiar line that if forced to choose between government without newspapers or newspapers without a government he would prefer the latter.