Above: Oneonta, New York, home to Hartwick College and this years Europeanists Conference
Well folks, it has been an eventful conference trip. As with most components of academic life, there are always memorable things. My flight was set to leave Bush Airport at 6:30 am Friday; however, while waiting and reading the New Yorker before boarding the plane, a host of TSA security escorted three dogs on to the plane. One hour later, we were informed that it was cool to load up. I did in a very hesitant way. Because of the delay, which was caused by someone’s immaturity in toying with aircraft devices, the flight was delayed in reaching Philly, thus other flights were forced to taxi causing a traffic jam on the runway. And of course, this means that my flight too taxied for an hour. I finally arrived in a town just east of Cornell and south of my destination: Oneonta, New York.
The opening of the Europeanists Scholars Conference for Historians started with a very formal dinner. While attending this event in my rag attire (airport lost my luggage), I discovered that I am not the only person who sports bow ties. On Saturday, I attended a number of paper presentations from a number of academics, primarily European History professors from the New England and New York region.
I presented my paper towards the end of the conference along with Patricia Rosof, who was invited to join the panel just a couple of months ago, and Paul Borysewicz, an ETS consultant. Rosof replaced my friend and colleague Celia Applegate, a Professor of History at the University of Rochester. Applegate needed to attend a German Conference at Cornell.
I have decided that I am going to move to Oneonta next year. It must be one of the most incredible small towns I have visited – – just look at the picture above, as seen from the campus of Hartwick College, this years host to the Europeanists Conference. The coolest thing about the trip was my encounter with a guy who appeared to be homeless, but I do believe he resides in a special shelter. I was walking down the scenic main street, with all of its shops and restaurants, when this particular person stated to me that I am not from Oneonta. We spoke for a while before grabbing a bite to eat. It was this experience that makes me proud to be a proletarian. I am looking forward to my 60-mile drive back to the airport in my cool rental car.