September
2008
“Hello, hello! Welcome
back! Here we are, all of us right
here at the end of our happy, restful summer vacation.”
“The sun is bright. The sky
is a cloudless blue. The meadows
flourished with all of the rain we had this summer and they now look like
luscious, expensive green carpets. Now,
let me look at all of you.”
“My goodness, what a crowd! I
notice that many of you are holding signs identifying your grade level.
What an excellent idea! Say,
there’s a big group of fourth graders over there and an even bigger group of
fifth and six graders. Oh look!
There are twenty-nine third graders and forty-one second graders. (Yes, I
did count them) Right over here, by
the tall maple are, (let’s see, I’m counting) sixteen first graders and
eleven from kindergarten, who whispered in my ear that each month, when a new
chapter appears, they really enjoy going into the room where the large chair
with the soft, cozy pillows. They
sit on the big arm of the chair while their Mom or Dad, and sometimes Grandpa or
Grandma, read each new chapter to them. There’s
another group who explained to me that they read the chapter each month because
they occasionally get homework assignments which require that they must write a
paper about their hometown. Yes,
they most certainly do live in
We started walking slowly down the hill toward the place where we thought
the sound originated, down behind those maples and oaks. Our eyes are as alert
now as our ears.
“Look! Look!
Some of those large pine branches have parted.
Something is moving down there, but it is so far away it’s hard to tell
just what is happening. Well, it’s
probably just that stiff breeze which is pushing those branches around.”
More of the larger pine branches moved.
Something seems to be pushing them aside.
There was a quick flash of red. A
very tall, slender man stepped out from between the branches.
His long, white hair, topped by a small black leather cap, blew
vigorously in the wind. His big read
jacket was easy to spot above worn looking, scrubby trousers and high, equally
worn boots. Even though we thought
he was old, judging by the bushy, white hair, he stepped briskly along up the
broad expanse of meadow grass and came right toward us. He pulled his right hand
out of the jacket pocket, extended it and shook hands with every, single one of
us, smiling broadly as he moved along. After
he shook hands with Ned, who stood toward the back of the group, he pivoted
around so he was face to face with us. Not
a word was spoken. Silence
surrounded us like a soft, woolen comforter.
He bent over to shoo away a horsefly that was buzzing around his left
boot. As he stood up, he shouted,
“What a great reception I’m getting here.
I never in this world expected to see a crowd of young people like
this.”
Somebody in the group began to clap.
Immediately, everyone joined in. All
the while he was looking at us with an enigmatic smile on his ruddy, worn face.
The clapping stopped. He
spoke.
“What brings all of you way out to this spot on the southern edge of
Ernie, sitting out in front of the group said, “We heard something like
a loud whistling sound and we were curious.
We wanted to see where it came from.”
“Well…..I must say you have keen ears.
You came to the right spot.”
George asked, “Where did the sound come from?
What made that sound?”
The white hair blew down, almost over both eyes, as he raised his left
hand and motioned for us to follow him. We
did. Down through the broad meadow,
through the pines and oaks, and behind that thicket of trees, he took us.
Some of the younger members of the group were beginning to look tired and
sort of straggled along that the back of the group.
Even some of the older girls looked weary and had slowed their steps
considerably.
“Where on earth is he taking us asked Matilda?
Seems like we’ve walked miles. The
man in the red jacket heard her words.”
“We’ve walked almost to Ballston Spa.”
“Ballston Spa! Ballston
Spa! How’d we get way down
here?” Jared asked what we all
wanted to know.
The man in the red jacket stopped quickly and turned toward us.
“Yes, we are right on the edge of Ballston Spa” he said.
“Why” asked Emmett?
“Well, you wanted to see what the sound was which you heard…and where
it came from, didn’t you?”
Everyone nodded yes. We were
too tired to talk.
“All right. Just a bit more
walking.”
We followed him quietly, as he turned right and went straight ahead,
turned right and crossed a wide field, past a grove of trees, and down a small
incline. Behind more large trees he
stopped, and we bunched up behind him.
“Look”
He didn’t have to tell us to look.
We were already looking, but we had absolutely no idea what we were
seeing.
He motioned for us to spread out in a long line because what was in front
of us was in a long line.
“This is it”, he said.
“This is it! This is it!
These words bounced around in our heads.
What on earth is he talking about?
We were puzzled. It seemed to
us that we had walked almost down to Ballston Spa but, as we glanced around,
everything looked so different.
“Where are we?” asked Jeremiah. “Everything
looks so different.”
The rest of us nodded our heads. Why
was the sun shining with such a strange, yellowish light?
Why did the grass in the meadow look more like a new, green carpet?
Even the clouds floating above us had an artificial, pasted on look.
The man in the red jacket must have been a mind reader.
“My name is John B. Jervis and we have not only walked almost to
Ballston Spa, but we have traveled back to the 19th century.”
Now we were completely bewildered. What
was he talking about? And who is
John B. Jervis?
He saw the vacant stares on our faces.
The tone of his voice changed as he began to speak again.
“You see, I got a job, the best job in the world for me.
All my life I have tinkered around with pipes and nails and screws.
My Pa was ambitious and creative and was always thinking up new ideas to
change and to improve the lives of our family members.
I worked right along with him, went to college and became an engineer.
But it was May 7, 1831 which was to change my life forever and make me
one of the happiest men on earth. Well,
perhaps not on earth, but most certainly in my family and my Town.”
“Why?”
“Well…..on that day, May 7, 1831 a publication called the Commercial
Advertiser in New York City, presented an article which was “apparently
the first recorded sale of stock and on August 10 and 11 of that same year,
contracts were made for materials to be used in construction.
On August 20, in accordance with custom, the “ceremony” of breaking
ground was performed by Honorable C. C. Cambreling, the President of the
company” *
“I, John B. Jervis was right there.
And what was constructed? Come
back in October and we’ll have a nice talk about it.
I’ll see you on October 1st.
So long until then.”
*
A Century of Progress, History of the