Sixteen Tons, Whaddaya Get?

Deb in the City here, another day older and deeper in debt.

OK, I know I am starting to sound like a broken record here and if you are too young to know what a record is and how a record player operates just consult the Wikipedia. It’s an old-fashioned way of saying that I am repeating myself.

But seriously Troy manufactured so much it is staggering.

The ink to print all the money in the US.

Fire hydrants and the valves for the locks on the Panama Canal.

However, there are more important present day matters to attend to than the glories of local industry past. Like, for instance, how to make peace with Sam. If we were really living in the past life of Troy, she’d probably be working over at the nail factory like every other able-bodied 19th century child.

Alas, I cannot send her to hard labor everyday and must find another way to raise her.

I searched around Troy for what I hoped would make her happy but Troy did not have what I needed.

So I hopped on the bus and headed for Albany, the big city. After asking the locals for Latino products, I was sent to this place.

Now the name Frank and Giovanni’s did not really inspire confidence since those are Italian names, the last time I looked. But once I got inside this bustling store, my prayers were answered.

Yes friends, cactus from Mexico comes in a jar and I purchased some. I can’t take Sam to her dad in Guadalajara but maybe I can bring a little of Guadalajara to her. She’s just a little kid with a deadbeat dad and I’m a desperate nanny.

When I was in the store I asked a clerk with a Bluetooth in his ear if Frank or Giovanni were there, sort of as a joke, since from the Latino product line, it was clearly not possible to buy anything Italian in the store. Bluetooth guy pointed me in the direction of Frank, however.

Frank owns the store and bought it with financing help from the Italian former owners and he has a good business feeding the surrounding community with yucca, plantains, and all Goya products. Everyone in the busy store cheerfully chatted with one another in high-octane Spanish and Frank went effortlessly back and forth between them and me in English.

There was a Puerto Rican flag above the register and I asked Frank where he was from and he said “I’m from the Bronx”. I didn’t ask him if his name was Frank back home. But I’ll have to next time I go for tortillas

This is Deb in the City, shifting through the diasporas, saying ciao, adios and farewell.

Horseshoes, Shirts and Other Marvels of Troy

The other thing about Troy, NY that is not like ancient Troy is that so far I have not seen Brad Pitt anywhere.

I have been hoping to catch a glimpse of him in his superhot Trojan outfit from that documentary movie he was in but so far, no Brad.

Meanwhile, I have discovered a whole other side of the tracks of Troy, that’s not all Hollywood and epic wars. This small city was a giant of manufacturing during the Industrial Revolution and starting in the mid 1800’s, the town just could not make enough stuff for the rest of the world to use.



First, iron! This is what remains of the Burden Iron Works, which was once a huge complex of buildings devoted to iron and its products that was worthy of Vulcan himself. Mister Burden was a sort of genius of metal and invented a machine that made one horseshoe a second for about fifty years. Not to brag, but Troy, New York basically made all of the horseshoes for the Civil War! For the winning side, just to clarify.

Next, shirts! This building was once the home of the Cluett-Peabody Company, which any Trojan over the age of 40 can tell you, made collars, cuffs and entire shirts as part of the pervasive shirt empire marketed under the Arrow name. Troy was once called "Collar City" because at one point this powerful town produced 90% of all the removable shirt collars and cuffs in the world.



Next, inventors! This is the Rennselaer Polytechnic Institute, which has been a kind of factory for geniuses since 1820 something and Troy has kicked out hundreds of the world’s craftiest minds. The inventors of the Ferris Wheel, sunscreen, fire sprinklers and the guy who invented the Brooklyn Bridge all went to RPI.

I went wandering around the campus and I got to talking to this lady, Barbara Dean who works at the school. She told me her father Christy Morris, an English immigrant to Troy, had gotten a sneak-degree from RPI by figuring out what courses he needed in engineering and then quietly sitting in the back row of all the classes. He could not afford to pay for the education, but he got it anyway and went on to work for the shirt empire and then across the river at the arsenal.

Barbara said her father had a precise and inventive mind and he was always looking at things and figuring out how to improve them. He used this gift at the arsenal for many years, saving our government and all of us that employ the government lots and lots of money.

Oh, Mister Christy Morris, how we could use you now!

This is Deb in the City, leaving plenty of room for improvement, saying so long from the former shirt capitol of the known universe.

Modern Troy

Hello internet! You have clicked on Deb in the City, the official blog of me, Deb.

Deb in the City is my desperate-cry-for-help coping mechanism. I have recently moved to a new place and I’m trying not to freak out (too late). Thanks for tuning in to my cheerful display of adjustment.

OK, can’t say I saw this one coming but I now live in Troy. No, not ancient Troy over in modern Turkey but modern Troy over in upstate New York. I can’t believe I am here. First of all, I get to live in this incredible house.

Look at the tree in the front yard. Isn't it brave?

OK, to be honest, this house is not in Troy proper. It’s a little north of the city in a beautiful community with a name all its own.



Yes, Sheldon Hills at Halfmoon is where I really live. It has an incredible clubhouse and basically, you get a whole lifestyle when you buy a house at Sheldon Hills at Halfmoon. It’s gated community living, minus the actual gates.

Troy is what the guidebooks like to call a gem of a Victorian city. But, where is Troy’s ancient past? Where are they hiding the horse full of sneaky Greeks? I poked around town but found nothing but a few Grecian columns here and there. Then, I stumbled upon the Parthenon, over at the Russell Sage College.

And in much better shape than the ancient one plus, it has air conditioning and central heat. The modern Trojans are an industrious people and I’m thinking of capitalizing on the name myself and starting "Trojan Nanny: child distraction services".

Give a call and a giant My Lil’ Pony appears on your lawn and once the children are mesmerized, I am deployed from within to wreak nanny calm within your walled citadel.

This is Deb in the City, saying so long from inside the belly of a horse. But a horse with very, very pretty hair.