This is the Otesaga Hotel, a beautiful resort, where we ate lunch our first day in town. See the white umbrella on the far left on the terrace. That's us eating. Or, rather, it's Bill eating. I'm taking the picture. It sits right on the edge of Lake Otesgo, a small, shining lake with a tiny marina and harbor. The lake features prominantly in the Leatherstocking Tales of James Fenimore Cooper and is called Glimmerglass Lake in his stories. Cooperstown was founded by James's father and he grew up in the woods and countryside around here.
Here's the view from our table, overlooking the eighteenth hole of the hotel's golf course and the lake.
Most of the things we do on our jaunts are things I want to do, like visit gardens and museums, take in a few shops, and maybe see an historic site or two (although I think I'm safe saying we both like to do this). But rarely does Bill ever express a specific desire to see a particular thing; once in a while, but rarely. So on this trip to Vermont and then winding around New York State, he mentioned that he'd like to go to Cooperstown and see the Baseball Hall of Fame. Okay; we're there. I didn't really know what to expect, but I just figured it was best not to think about it too much ahead of time. Of course, I did think about it some and thought I'd probably be bored. Boy, was I surprised. Let me tell you--Cooperstown is a delight! There's the Hall of Fame, of course, but there's lots more to do that we both enjoyed.
First we just walked through the village which is tiny with one Main St. All the shops, and I mean all, are for baseball lovers.
I have to admit I found it all rather cute, because the town itself was charming (in a baseball sort of way).
Then it was time for the Hall of Fame.
Of course, who's the first person you meet right inside the door? Guess.
The first thing you see is a short film about baseball and its history, and then you wind through the exhibits and displays of all the teams and players. There is a tribute to "Baseball in the Movies," that reminds you of all the movies that feature baseball from Pride of the Yankees to The Natural to A League of Their Own. Fun to be reminded of some of these classic films.
Lucy and Ethel up to their antics.
They even have a place where you can sit and watch videos of famous comedians like Bob Newhart and George Karlin doing their routines on baseball as well as Abbott and Costello's Who's on First.
Bill was looking at everything, but after a few minutes, I just wanted to find Phillies' stuff. We have been following them closely this summer and, of course, you know that they just clinched the National League East Championship.
Sunday, October 1, 1950, the Whiz Kids, as they were affectionately known by their fans, clinched the National League flag on the season's final day by defeating the Brooklyn Dodgers, 4-1.
A bank of grandstand seats they saved from the old Connie Mack Stadium when it was torn down.
There were exhibits on everything from World Series rings to baseball cards. But the real heart of the place is the actual Hall of Fame where plaques of all the members are displayed.
Here are our guys.
Connie Mack
The beloved Richie Ashburn
Steve Carlton
Robin Roberts
Jim Bunning
And, of course, Mike Schmidt.
So, all in all, it was a fun experience and now it's over. It really is.
3 comments:
I'm glad you guys had fun and that you liked the baseball hall of fame!
That hotel looks amazing! I love old places like that. And what a view. That's my kind of place to chill.
The Baseball Hall of Fame looked like fun! I loved baseball as a kid. One of my favorite old photographs is of me and my brother in baseball caps watching the Reds play at Riverfront Stadium when we were little. -Julia
Thanks Mom, I've never made it to The Hall but your pictography touched on some of the things I'd most want to see and encourages me to journey northward. You seem to have a knack for finding the "right spots" to focus on for your beloved audience.
Bring your camera next week I've got something to show you that I think you'll enjoy as a photo project.
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