Nobody will be accusing Republican gubernatorial candidate Martha Dean of pandering to the news media after she announced her candidacy last week by calling the reporters who will cover the campaign “vermin.” This is seen as a departure from the usual announcement of the intention to run for governor — in Connecticut, at least.It was one of several applause lines at Dean’s formal announcement that drew literally dozens, counting some print and TV vermin, to the Old State House in Hartford last week. By vermin, we can assume the candidate was referring to the secondary definition of the word, which is “very unpleasant and offensive people,” although the principal definition, “objectionable animals (as lice or fleas) that are difficult to control or to get rid of,” presumably fits the Dean view as well. Dean’s antipathy toward journalists is strange because they made her what she is today. This was accomplished by merely recording the outrageous things she has actually said in her unsuccessful career as an office seeker. True, what she says sometimes requires interpretation and that’s where vermin who write editorials or opinion columns come in.Last week, for example, she offered the following observations that cry out for additional reflection:Her candidacy is further evidence that she was put here to be God’s blessing on Connecticut.If elected, she would work to repeal the state income tax, she would seek the elimination of public employee unions and she would repeal the post-Newtown gun control measures. The latter is her most important promise, as she is the darling of the gun law resisters.u u uDean is known for making two losing runs for attorney general against Richard Blumenthal in 2002 and George Jepsen in 2010, but she became even better known, notorious even, for posting a video on her Facebook page soon after the Newtown massacre that claimed it was all a hoax perpetrated by anti-gun and anti-Second Amendment forces of evil. I wrote in this newspaper at the time that she claimed the video was posted “only because she’s a believer in sharing ideas.” These particular ideas ranged from the incredibly bizarre — the killings never happened, what you saw on television was a movie — to the incredibly hurtful — parents lying about their children being dead.She questioned why the killer was able to kill everyone and not wound some, whether people stopped in the vicinity were accomplices and whether the government of the United States had a role, which, she conceded, was highly unlikely, though “theoretically possible.” She did disown those saying a smiling parent seen on the video was evidence the killings didn’t happen, but suggested the smile could be “a red flag” to investigators.u u uCandidate Dean’s gun nuttiness was also on exhibition in her last campaign against Jepsen when she promised, if elected, to see to it that all school children, Boy and Girl Scouts and little campers be trained to use guns.“We teach sex education in school, yet we omit the most basic skill needed to exercise fundamental constitutional rights,” she said and still got 480,000 votes. In the Old State House last week, Dean also spoke of once having Ronald Reagan, bearing a caged canary, no less, come to her in a dream. (Even news vermin don’t make this stuff up.)Now, here was a statement by a candidate for high office that surely required amplification. A supporter in the audience suggested Dean’s seeing Reagan in her dreams indicates the late president was handing down his legacy to Martha but she got a bit confused as to why the Reagan legacy came equipped with a bird in a gilded cage.The woman observed that real life, caged canaries once accompanied miners into unventilated coal mines to determine if the veins contained deadly gases. As long as the canary kept singing, the mine was safe. But Dean wouldn’t go along with the supporter’s theory, saying she didn’t know why she dreamt of Reagan and his caged bird but the dream did inspire her to read Reagan’s books. Dean probably peaked with the announcement, God’s blessing and Reagan’s canary, but she may prove to be an inconvenience for the Republican campaign, the pre-primary debates and candidate Tom Foley, who has not appeased the gun nuts completely. Simsbury resident Dick Ahles is a retired journalist. Email him at dahles@hotmail.com.
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Dick Hermans in the Oblong Bookstore on Millerton\u2019s Main Street in 1985.
Provided
For Hermans, the award has prompted some reflection about why he has spent so much of his life involved in community projects.
“I was thinking about it this morning: Why do I do what I do?” he said. “And I think no matter what I’ve done, whether it’s been school board or rail trail, I’m trying to be useful to the communities I’m associated with.”
Hermans is perhaps best known as the longtime co-founder and steward of Oblong Books in Millerton, a business that began almost by accident. He and his former partner, Holly Nelson, were living in Millerton and looking for something to do during the winter. They had been painting houses, including the Grange Hall in Millerton, a job Hermans got through his aunt, who belonged to the Grange.
At the time, Hermans was also working in insurance for his father, doing collections.
“It was fine except I was doing collections, and it really kind of left me cold,” he said.
He and Nelson began thinking about what they might do together. Nelson was an avid reader, while Hermans had studied journalism and had worked in a record store. They noticed a chain of book and record stores operating elsewhere in the Hudson Valley and decided to follow that model.
And so Oblong was born.
Dick Hermans in the Oblong Bookstore on Millerton’s Main Street in 1985.Provided
“We really learned it by the seat of our pants,” Hermans said.
The business would eventually become a beloved and integral part of Millerton’s commercial life. But although Hermans may have learned the book business as he went, his affinity for retail — and for the connections that happen across a counter — had begun much earlier.
As a child, his second-grade teacher operated a little cardboard pencil shop in the classroom, and Hermans still remembers the satisfaction of selling a pencil for a nickel.
“I really liked selling somebody a pencil for a nickel,” he recalled. “I can remember that experience, and it was so pleasant.”
Later, while living in Arizona, he helped establish a food co-op and worked at the counter.
“I kind of knew that I liked doing that kind of thing,” he said. “It’s a nice way to be pleasant with people, but without making too much commitment to them.”
His relationship with Millerton also predates Oblong. His grandparents lived in the village, and he first came to Millerton as a baby. Over the years, he has watched the town change through several generations.
He remembers a Millerton with a much broader array of businesses, when stores such as Delson’s, the Main Street department store that stood for nearly 40 years in what is now Millerton’s Antiques Center, seemed to carry almost everything a resident might need.
“You could find everything from a set of dishes to a shotgun,” he recalled.
The rise of shopping malls changed that kind of downtown retail, he said, but Millerton has remained a lively commercial village.
“For us, it’s been a great place to have business,” Hermans said. “It’s a busy village.”
For Hermans, running a store was never simply about selling books and records. It was a way of being part of a place.
Music has remained another constant. Hermans continues to sell music at Oblong and hosts the radio program “New Harmony” on WKZE. The business of selling music has changed dramatically over the years, particularly with the rise of streaming, but Hermans has adapted.
He was initially reluctant to bring vinyl records back into the store because of their expense. But about four or five years ago, he began stocking LPs again, and they have become the main form of music the store sells.
He finds that many of the customers buying them are reconnecting with music they loved years ago.
“I do best with classic albums that people may have had when they were young,” he said. “And now that they’re retired, they want to hear it again.”
Hermans still reviews between 700 and 1,200 new music releases each week through the store’s distributor, Alliance Entertainment, carefully deciding what belongs on Oblong’s shelves.
That same commitment to place has led Hermans into a wide range of community projects. His work with the Harlem Valley Rail Trail is among the efforts he mentions when reflecting on his years of civic involvement. He has also served on the school board and has been involved with the Millerton Business Alliance and the Irondale Schoolhouse. He is now involved with The New Pine Plains Herald, which he sees as complementary to the work of The Millerton News and The Lakeville Journal.
“I really think that the important thing about this award is that people understand what a newspaper does to connect them to their community,” he said. “And if that means anything to their lives, they gotta support it.”
Hermans knew Mary Lou and Robert Estabrook and remembers them as people who were deeply conscious of their responsibilities to the community.
“They were really nice folks,” he said. “They were very conscious of what their role in the community was.”
There is, in fact, still plenty on his plate. Hermans admits he needs to scale back because he has taken on more than his current abilities can comfortably accommodate.
“To be given this award is very special,” he added. “But I don’t feel like I’m done.”
This article has been changed to reflect that Hermans and Nelson were partners. A prior version states that they were married.
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Adamah Farm crew members planning out the day’s tasks on a late September day.
Janna Siller
Over my 15 years of growing vegetables in Falls Village, I’ve exerted my will over all kinds of conditions, from drought to humidity to crows with a taste for cantaloupe. That’s what farming is all about. You zip around the field, hopping on and off tractors, moving hoses and chasing weeds, all in an effort to arrange conditions in favor of your crops. It is the crops’ job to gulp up sunlight and move water through their stems, to transform solar energy into your next pesto or ratatouille or butternut squash soup. It is the job of the farmer to irrigate just enough but not too much, to slice dandelion leaves without damaging delicate cabbage roots, to pander and pamper and stay in tune with what plants need to thrive.
The easy part of farming is trusting plants’ resilience. I have seen bright green shoots barrel ahead out of a plant torn to shreds by hail. I’ve watched wilty, heat-stressed seedlings turn rigid overnight and greet the next morning with vigor. The hard part is letting go of what you can’t control. As our crops lapped up Friday’s gentle sunshine and I considered the weekend forecast, I imagined roots holding tight to wet earth and branches supporting each other in sideways, pelting rain. I made sure all of our storage crops were already harvested and tucked away. I battened down the sides of our greenhouses and wished the remaining field crops good luck.
The nor’easter didn’t materialize too dramatically in our corner of New England. A few broken branches and debris blown about, nothing like the July Fourth storm that sent half a tree crashing onto the deer fence and left crates of fresh veggies in coolers without power.
Fall storage crop harvests amid soil building cover crops at Adamah Farm in Falls Village. Janna Siller
Farming is an exercise in acceptance. To do it well and return year after year, you have to balance hubris and humility. The prize can often be a certain equanimity, a training in the art of moving into the next day even when the last one scrambled all your plans.
Epic change is not always about the unexpected. It also comes like clockwork on the seasonal calendar. As I type, the last of summer’s watermelons wait naively on the vine for a few hot days to finish ripening. Broccoli are holding their leaves wide as they did in June and July, only to find that the hours of sunlight decrease with each earlier sunset. Plants can’t pick up and go south or call the manager to order a bonus round of sunshine. Their growth slows and they get a resigned look to the hue of their leaves, so different from the frenzied growth of summer.
The release of fall is not tragic or gloomy. It is not an ending because so many fall tasks are about setting up for the new beginnings in spring.
We turn the vines that yielded thousands of pounds of fruit into the soil, where healthy microbes feast on their rotting stems. Then we plant cover crops — a mix of cereal grains like rye and oats and legumes like peas, vetch and clover. Cover crops hold the soil and its nutrients in place over winter, feeding the soil food web and adding organic matter that next season’s crops will need to grow.
We sort sprinklers and repair hoses. We inventory tarps. We take notes about which plants did well where and how we might try a new approach for this or that. We stack crates of cured garlic and onions and winter squash in a cool, dark room.
We save seeds from tomatoes and beans and lettuce, carefully labeling each variety for next season’s long, sunny days.
Janna Siller is the farm director at Adamah, a community farm in Falls Village offering CSA shares, educational programs and a food access program.
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