To the editor:
A recent trip through my Central New York bearings took me to Syracuse, were I grew up, and then on to Cazenovia for a stay at Brae Loch Inn, where my wedding party had dined 52 years before. I then drove over to New Woodstock, where my maternal grandparents Herbert and Mary Judd had settled. I had spent some halcyon summers there as a boy staying with my uncle and aunt Elwyn and Gladys Judd. I drove by their house and although the railroad no longer passes behind, I could still sense its rumblings in those days.
So many memories floated back all through the day. One that came to me, out of the blue, was the New Woodstock High School cheer: “Strawberry shortcake, huckleberry pie, V-I-C-T-O-R-Y, are we in it, well I guess, New Woodstock High School, yes, yes, yes.” I had heard my mother sing that song when I was I boy 65 years ago but had not remembered it until that day in New Woodstock this past summer.
After a visit to family gravesites I had the highlight of my visit- the New Woodstock Historical Society museum, where I was warmly hosted by one of its docents, Rachel Hunt. I found photos of my family and also learned so much about New Woodstock in the 19th and early 20th century. Anyone with roots in the area, or with a New York State historical ken, will find this museum a gem.
Just as I was leaving I asked my host about “Juddville”. This was a place rather vague in my memory, having heard of it only after all the Judds had moved down into New Woodstock proper. Ms. Hunt gave me directions and I drove up to the place, seeing the water that my great grandparents had damned to run their saw mill, and the site of the school my mother and her brothers had attended.
My uncle Elwyn Judd was a gregarious man and a leader of New Woodstock, also writing a weekly column in this paper. His sister Ruth, my mother, always spoke of her early years in New Woodstock with great passion. Many Sunday afternoons as a young boy I sat in the back seat as my parents drove around Cazenovia (where my father had lived) and my mother’s places in and around New Woodstock. I listened to them speak of their memories- a time gone by even then and more so now.
I had the good fortune to relive these memories on this recent visit and felt the presence of my family. Wherever we are from, it is always good to take the time to go back.
Thoru Judd Pederson
Worcester, Mass.
