This Week in Lincolnville: A Dream Come True
..the day they didn’t need me
Diane O’Brien Mon, 01/25/2021 - 11:30am
The Bean Supper assembly line saw that everyone got what they ordered: vegetarian or not, gluten or not, and plenty of coleslaw and cookies.
Photo by Diane O’Brien
As I drove away from the Historical Society the other day, even as cars were arriving, one after another to drop off food, it felt like a dream come true. The downstairs dining room, home of the Improvement Association for the past 50 or so years, was bustling with activity, as huge pans of beans and mountains of coleslaw were laid out, assembly-line fashion. The biscuits I’d just taken out of the oven, my one contribution to the effort, waited their place in the line, along with those of the other biscuit-makers. Cookies, cookies, cookies – gluten-free and gluten-full – completed the menu.
Once again, it’s the paper, the documents that hold the town’s history that are the backbone of our collection. And because we’ve collected so much of it over the LHS’ 45-year history (Jackie Watts founded the Historical Society at a 1975 meeting in her living room) much of it has never even been read.
The other day, I went rummaging through our collection – no, not literally through boxes and boxes of random stuff – but searching our database for the original deed to the property. Both Connie Parker and I remember there was a deed. Connie, by the way, has been the other half, with me, the duo who catalogued literally a couple of thousand items since about 2003.
Today’s obituaries: J. Russel Masters was highway super, refuse officer for Skaneateles
Updated Jan 14, 2021;
Posted Jan 14, 2021
A file photo of J. Russel Masters, right, and John Angyal, Skaneateles town supervisor, at Skaneateles Landfill and Recycling Center in February 1995.
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He was a 1945 graduate of Marcellus High School and attended Clarkson University.
He was a farmer for most of his life but also served as highway superintendent and refuse officer for the town of Skaneateles. He was a member of the United Christian Church of Marietta, according to his obituary.
Yes, we 2,000 plus citizens of Lincolnville have differing political views, views that run from one extreme to the other. But in the end, when we’re up against some seemingly overwhelming problem, we ignore those differences, get out the pots and pans, whip up some food and have a supper. A public supper.
When Jackie and Maurice Watts were both facing cancer diagnoses at the same time, the fire department pulled out all the stops and put on an unforgettable supper for them, raising thousands of dollars along with raising their spirits. It was a collective “thank you” card from the whole town to a couple who had themselves contributed greatly to our community over the years.
Dave found the kitchen empty; from the bottom of the stairs, he heard the murmurs of the women’s voices in the bedroom with Mary, so he went out back to pace and wait. How funny life can be, he thought. Here he was, fifty years old and about to become a father again. He’d been sure that part of his life was over when he and Lura divorced many years ago. A certain hardness sets in when a man loses his family life, to say nothing of the house he built, a house that held his heart, soul and bank account. Still, he could hold his head up; he’d done right by his oldest daughter, Leila, and her mother. That house, perched on top of Rankin’s Hill [380 Camden Road