My Valley
To an earlier generation belongs the name of Solomon Peck, Bethel boy who became a noted physician practicing in Ithaca, N.Y., at the same time taking under his care and teaching, the future Dr. Herman Biggs of Trumansburg, N.Y., Bacteriologist working with the further, development of I the tubercular germ. A large State Hospital overlooking Cayuga Lake for the care and cure of tubercular patients has been named for him.
I must include one more who had no part in Mongaup Valley but who is Sullivan County born and bred near Livingston Manor- John R. Mott of Y.M.C.A. fame, and world wide in religious national affairs.
This, then, is the story of my Valley of the Dancing Feather. It is not meant to be too matter-of-fact, but rather to picture some of my important memories, that bridge over seventy-five years, of the lives, customs and moral standards of the Valley when I, as a child and early teen-age girl, lived with Uncle Howard and Aunt Mary.
Advancing age entitles one to moralize somewhat, in making evaluations and comparisons of one's own childhood as against the modern opportunities of grandchildren and great grandchildren. In contrast with the radio of soap opera and crime drama that tend to distort youthful imagination, I recall the story hours of Uncle Howard and the memory verses of poem and Bible that have ever been a comfort and solace under turmoil of social order and controversy in religion. With the movies that provide thrills and entertainment for today's children, I compare the excitement of the log jams in the mill pond when the boom broke, or the fun of amateur theatricals in old Eureka Hall. Amid the noise and speed of automobiles driven by my grandchildren, I remember kindly the pleasure of driving with Aunt Mary with gentle old Kit pulling the high-wheeled buggy at three or four miles an hour.
From the ox-team and horse and buggy days of yester-year comes much to benefit our thinking today. Likely my early teen-age had its shortcomings but I can't recall that I was particularly unhappy over them. I had a happy childhood, under an environment quite different from that of my children and grandchildren. With but few contacts with the outside world, our lives were still well rounded. As many of us went over the turnpike, to live without, the collective influences of the Valley proved true to the cultural standards of American living.
I do not wish to imply that people of the present time should return to the so-called "Good old days". The present day is full of interest to those who will meet its challenge in the proper spirit.
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