I only wanted to travel to Afghanistan because one night, in a cafe in southern France, my husband unfurled from his back pocket a map of the world. He asked me to pick another country. I saw land-locked Afghanistan, lonely and remote and I decided in my 23rd year that I might, someday, have a story to tell about a place few people in my circle would have ever visited.
Like most old houses, the bathroom was probably created out of what was a closet. A wall was moved to make it a little bigger, creating a weird jog in the upstairs hall to access the bathroom and the nearby bedroom.
Delaware County’s northern border is less than two hours from Kingston via Route 28. There are lots of opportunity to wind down and connect with nature. Maybe that sounds good to you, too. Here are a few suggestions along a circular route easily done in a day, and tailored to a world still somewhat pandemic-restricted.
Phil Warish became a local business owner. In 2007 he hauled his 19th-century floorstanding Chandler Price platen press out of storage, where it had been for fifteen years. He arranged an eclectic collection of vintage items, put up a sign, and opened Blue Farm Antiques and Letterpress Printing. He’s been in his current location for six years.
The Hudson Valley in general, and recently Ulster County in particular, have gotten national attention for the precipitous rise of the cost of housing. But the mass exodus of buyers from the New York City area to upstate covers a lot more ground than that. Delaware County, the forgotten, sleepy area the size of Rhode Island, has been white-hot, too.
My family had a soft spot for trains. It started in Ulster County.
My son’s childhood was a long span of baseball games in the summer and basketball in the winter. He loved sports, and he was a good athlete. He played as soon as he was old enough to join a team. Always two or three heads taller than his classmates, he became a lanky, imposing presence on the pitcher’s mound, at shortstop, or playing center or forward on the basketball court.
In Connecticut, there aren’t a lot of signs, but everyone was wearing a mask. It I didn’t see anyone who slipped the mask beneath their nose. They covered their mouths and noses, and no one seemed to be too put out about it.
I’ve been looking for Brigadoon most of my life. I first became aware of the legend in that old MGM musical by the same name. It’s about an enchanted Scots village that disappeared and travelled through time when everyone in town went to sleep. They’d wake up, and a hundred years had gone by. They hadn’t changed a bit, and no one ever found them. Until Gene Kelly showed up. It’s romantic and it’s ridiculous. I wanted to live there.
When I can lift my head out of my stress fog, I’m reminded of a time when my entire life was swept out to sea by an undertow of grief. Feeling so intensely wounded made me suddenly understand that everyone is wounded, in some way or another. And despite what felt like the end of my life as I knew it, I never felt closer to humanity as a whole, never more connected.