Stephen   Richard Lindsay

Stephen

• General Notes
  • Gankin'
    Added by Stephen Lindsay on 20 Mar 2007
    Here's a little story about my high school days that I'm not too proud of, but it's pretty funny. I always had the reputation as the good kid who never got into trouble. Well, I can tell you all that it's only because I was lucky, and I never got caught.
    
    We used to have this little game we would play called gankin', which is a slang term for stealing, as in, "Yo man, my wallet was ganked!" Well, for us, (myself, my best friends Pooh, Ray, and Doof) gankin' meant getting 2 cars (Pooh and I in one, Ray and Doof in the other) and driving around track-neighborhoods late at night. We would then proceed to park the car, run up to someone's lawn, and take whatever lawn ornaments they had. (flamingos, ceramic gnomes, donkeys, etc.) We had a time limit (usually 2 hours) and then we would meet at the Perkins on Ridge Road. Prior to the gankin' session, we would make an elaborate point system for various items one might find in a person's lawn. Staying out of you car for more than one lawn was not allowed, and if you could successfully transfer say, a donkey and cart about 2 lawns over, well, that was a bonus. (that way it looked like the donkey had migrated) The points changed from night to night because some things proved easy to get, so their points had to be lowered accordingly. No big points without big risks.
    
    One night we were in the back parking lot of Perkins, comparing our loot and tallying the points, when a cop drove up. He cruised by us very slowly, checking us out. Luckily for us, we had our trunks closed at that point and we were adding up the point totals, so it didn't look that bad. It only took him about 2 seconds to drive by and go about his business, but it seemed like an ETERNITY.
    
    You know, it's amazing the STUPID lies teenagers will tell. It's amazing because to you, it seems perfectly logical. It's only when I look back now that it was the most obvious lie I'd ever told. You see, my favorite gankin' prize were pink flamingos. I hated them. I thought they looked tacky and awful, so if I found a lawn with flamingos, they were mine. And I would KEEP my flamingos as trophies. The problem was, I kept them in my room. One day, my mother asked me why I had a collecting of flamingos in my room. With a STRAIGHT FACE, I told her that someone had thrown them out, so I picked them up in case SHE WANTED TO USE THEM. Hey, it sounded good to me at the time, but she gave me that knowing look and let it go.
    
    As I said, it's not one of the proudest moments of my past, but teenagers will be teenagers. It's amazing we were never caught. This happened at least 2 - 3 times a month from Junior year through graduation. Occassionally we'd get more people involved, but with that, the risk increased, so we usually kept it to the 4 of us.
    
    Even now, if I'm driving at night and I see a house with a lot of lawn ornaments, I catch myself adding up the point totals.
    
    Changing Leaves
    Added by Stephen Lindsay on 20 Mar 2007
    It was several years ago that I learned why the "Sunday Drive" has become as extinct as the dinosaurs.
    
    I was in middle school, maybe high school at the time. My parents decided that, on this particularly nice Fall day, that they wanted to take a drive East to see the leaves changing. I personally had no stock in seeing the leaves changing, but I was young, and as often happens when you're young, my opinion didn't count for much. If only parents would listen....
    
    The trip started out innocently enough. We drove for a while, then stopped at a little diner in Oswego for breakfast. Spirits were high at that point. The breakfast was good, and with full bellies, we pressed on. We talked and laughed. Oldies were jumping out of the car stereo. I must admit, even I was having a good time at this point. I still had no interest in changing leaves, but it was some real quality time with my parents, and throughout my entire life, that has always been fun.
    
    Well, we kept on driving. Before long, it was time for lunch. We stopped at Tupper Lake and had a picnic lunch. That was actually a very pretty area. After lunch, we quickly debated heading home, or pressing on. As has happened so many times throughout history, lives are won or lost in an instant with on decision, fates are written, people are changed... The decision was made to press on.
    
    From there we drove... and drove... and drove. Finally we ended up in the Lake Placid area. We got out of the car for a little while and walked around the town. By now, we'd been on the road for a little over 4 hours, and it was beginning to show. I was being a pain in the ass. My parents were getting testy. Everyone was getting hungry again. It was time to go. We'd spotted a steak house along the road into town, and the debate was on as to where we wanted to eat. Nobody could agree. We argued... and argued... and argued. My mother was pushing for the steak house, but for some reason, we passed it. At that point, anyone who knows my father understands that there was to be NO turning around. We would find something on the way. The funny thing was, we never found anything. So after a while, the hunt for food was over. We ingored the rumblings in our stomachs and resolved ourselves to the fact that dinner would not be coming that night. Everyone just wanted to get home. 5 straight house we bombed down the road. Leaves be damned. If they were pretty, they just flew by the windows of the car in a multi-colored blur of oranges, reds, browns, and greens. I can honestly say that I don't remember seeing any beautiful changings of the season that day.
    
    When all was said and done, and we rolled back into our driveway, 10 hours had passed. The car doors flung open, and we all exited our roving prison, limping like Igor from a silent Frankenstien film. Our butts were numb, our legs were cramped, and our stomachs had inverted themselves with hunger. There was complete silence that night as we entered the house. My mother immediately when to bed. My father made himself something to eat. I went to my room and layed in bed, still feeling the vibrations from the car throughout my body.
    
    From that day forth, I vowed NEVER to take my own family on a "Sunday Drive to see the leaves changing". Take it from me: the leaves around here are plenty beautiful during the fall.
    There's no need to travel to see them.
    
    Sledding With Dad
    Added by Stephen & Richard Lindsay on 20 Mar 2007
    One of my earliest memories is of a wonderful winter day with my father. It was one of those picture perfect winter days; the sun was shining, it was a brisk cold, but not biting, and there was a nice, thick layer of snow on the ground. My father decided it was the perfect day to take me sledding!
    
    I believe we went to Durand Eastman Park (not Suicide Hill... I was just a youngster!). The park was full of parents and kids, all enjoying the same idea my father had. I was bundled from head to toe in snow pants, boots, hat, gloves... you name it. When I think back to how much I was wearing, I realize it prevented me from incuring serious injury... but wait, I'm getting ahead of myself.
    
    After a few mediocre runs, my father spotted a nice hill that was completely unoccupied. We trooped our way over to it, climbed to the top, and looked out over the park.
    
    "This is a good one!", my father proclaimed.
    
    I looked down with a little less enthusiasm than my father. "But how will I stop?", I asked meekly.
    
    My father bent down to my height and pointed a finger to a smaller hill across from where we were standing. "That hill there...see? When you get to it, it'll stop you."
    
    Completely trusting of my father, I agreed. So, I sat on my sled, tightened down my hat, pulled my gloves on just a little further, and gave him the thumbs up. It was time! With a push from his strong arms, I was off. The beginning decent was fairly mild, but then the sled began picking up speed! I was off, and it was great! The sled was screaming down the hill, the cold air stinging my cheeks. It was exhilarating!! Before I knew it, I was at the bottom of the hill, heading straight for the smaller hill that was supposed to stop me. But I was moving fast. My decent had ended, and my ascent of the smaller hill had begun! Up, up, up I went, with no signs of stopping.
    
    The sled hesitated a moment as I reached the top of the smaller hill, but as elementary physics teaches us; objects in motion tend to stay in motion. And stay in motion I did. Once again I was heading down, but now it was down the side of the smaller hill. Again my speed picked up and the cold air licked my cheeks. I didn't know if I should laugh or cry. All I knew was that I was getting farther and farther from my father.
    
    I tried to turn around to see if he was in persuit of me, but my bundling wouldn't allow that much mobility. So I kept my eyes forward, watching as a wall of trees quickly dominated my line of site. For a split second I remember debating just tipping the sled and wiping out, but I was going too fast! Closer and closer the tress grew... until finally they were all I could see! Before I could even think to panic, I was engulf in a giant bush! My sled had finally stopped, but I couldn't move... I was trapped! I sat there, swallowed by this bush, with branches poking into me, for what seemed like an eternity. In reality it was only the better part of a minute because as soon as I didn't slow down going up the smaller hill, my father began running toward me. He dragged me out of the bush, stood me up, brushed me off, and we went home.
    
    I look back on it now, and I don't wonder why I'm not a winter person. I don't like skiing, I've never had an urge to learn snowboarding, and I'm not one to get involved in snowball fights. If there's snow outside, you'll find me inside. It's just too dangerous. You can never count on that smaller hill to slow you down.
    Stephen Lindsay
    
    
    Okay here is my recollection of the infamous sledding incident. The incident took place in Mendon Ponds Park. It was a crisp sunny day and the snow was ideal for sledding. The main hills were all crowed and kids were going down them with little regard for anyone and I wasn’t about to put my little boy into a dangerous situation like that. I found a gentle hill that was isolated. It went down gradually and then ran out into a flat area that was at least ¾ of a football field long. At the end of the flat was another hill about half the size of the first hill. Beyond the second hill was another flat area about the size of half a football field. At the end of this second flat area was a cross country ski trail about 20 feet wide and beyond that a grove of trees. Those tree were at least 200 yards way. Stephen got ready just as he describes it. I gave him a mighty shove and off he went. Oh how I wished I was young enough to go on a ride like that. I knew he would slow down across the flat and probably never make it to the second hill. I stood there watching him go down that hill, picking up speed as he went. Across the flat he goes, getting further away and looking smaller and smaller. Now he is heading up the second hill. I starting to think I may have miscalculated the physics involved here. Up and over the second hill he goes. He looked like an a small bug gliding across the ice. I took off in a full run after him. When I get to the top of the second hill I see him going across the cross county trail and almost wiping out some skiers. Then he abruptly stopped when he met these bushes at the edge of the grove of trees. When I finally get to him, which seemed like an eternity, he was sitting on his sled all tangled up in the bush. I pulled him out, by this time I knew he was not hurt, and said, “ WOW what a ride! Do you want to do it again!” The answer came swift and certain and we were soon in the car heading home.
    Richard Lindsay