Our Old House - An Afternoon Visit

"Our Old House"

Our Old House - An Afternoon Visit 
By John R. Greenwood

I was nine years old when we moved from the house in the picture above. I still live and work within a few miles and I like to pass by when I can. I was doing one of my, reminiscing about the good old days drive-by’s recently and decided to stop in to see how the Blodgett’s were doing. Charlie and Beverly Blodgett have lived here since buying the house from my parents in 1964. It’s a good feeling to know such nice people live in the home you grew up in. Charlie came to the back door when I knocked and without hesitation invited me in for a visit. Charlie and Beverly are deep into their retirement but both appeared in good health and good spirits. The Blodgett’s have always been quiet content folks and live simply, within their means. In many ways the home remained as it was when I was a child. There were no major remodels or expensive upgrades. The home was welcome and familiar. It was a wonderful gift to be able to absorb the sights and sounds of my past as we sat and caught each other up on what had transpired over the last several decades. We spoke about my children and grandchildren, my job and the changes in the neighborhood. I thanked Charlie for calling recently when he noticed an article of mine in The Conservationist Magazine. I told them about my love of writing and some projects on the horizon. Their lab-mix Marisa was a pleasant host as well and invited me to join her and Charlie for their afternoon walk out back. Since out back was the center of my universe for the first nine years of my life this invitation was as welcome as a trip to Disney. As we walked through the living room and out through the attached back shed my gray topped head was swiveling like a bobble-head toy trying to soak in the remnants of my youth. 

Marisa the Lab and my old backyard

The second floor window on the far right was my first window to the world. I loved the view of the back yard from that vantage point. The pines where my tree climbing skills were honed lay a couple hundred yards away. A joyful memory for sure. The grass on this property was always plush and full like an expensive grade of carpeting; old farmland deep below I'm sure the reason. Charlie's vegetable garden is in the same spot where ours was. There as been a vegetable garden on that same spot for at least 58 years, probably many more than that. 

The pine grove wonderland where I played as a boy. 

The field where we once rode minibikes and drove beat up old field cars was now a forest of pine, maple, and poplar trees. On one hand it was unrecognizable, on the other the vision as clear as yesterday. 

As we approached the back of the lot I noticed an old cement block fireplace. In front of it was a cement pad. In the cement was the date 1958. I was overcome by a vision. I was a three year old toddler standing there watching my father and his friend and neighbor John Atwell constructing this fireplace. I could smell freshly mixed mortar. I could feel the warmth of a sunny August day. It may even have been this very day 54 years ago. I would like to think that anyway. 

I can't thank my hosts the Blodgett's and Marisa the Lab enough for their hospitality. This simple little visit brought mom and dad back for an afternoon visit too. It was a good day. 

Charlie and Marisa the Lab

A Quiet Little Bedlam

A Quiet Little Bedlam
By John R. Greenwood

This past Sunday as August began to fade and September was fueling its tank, I headed off to Bedlam Farm for a meeting of our Hubbard Hall Writing Group. We were the pampered lunch guests of Jon Katz and Maria Wulf. Jon is our trail guide and mentor. Maria, along with being a gracious host is support and inspiration galore. It was a beautiful afternoon and Bedlam Farm was the center piece. The property envelopes you in a magical country trance. I arrived a tad early (on purpose) so that I might sneak a photograph or two. I backed my pickup truck off the edge of the driveway so the back was facing the empty field where the old sheep spent their last precious summer. I did this on purpose. There is one joy in a country boys life that is a bit hard to replicate. The simple joy of sitting on the tailgate of a pickup truck, feet swinging, with the sun shining, and the view of a tree-lined field in the distance. I had it all planned out and my plan came together perfectly. I had my little Canon S100 and a fully charged battery. For some reason at this moment, it seemed more important to simply sit there and close my eyes. I breathed in deep and opened my ears to the sounds surrounding me. The grasshoppers and crickets were singing away. The sound of a passing car as it grumbled up the dirt road below was a nostalgic symphony. The soft and easy rustle of the dry poplar leaves waving goodbye to summers end slowed my pulse and eased my worries. The sound of children playing on a backyard swing in the valley far below brought back wave upon wave of youthful reflection of my own. It takes just seconds on a day like this to be transported back decades. We hadn't even begun our meeting yet and my mind was a schools-out-for-summer-free-for-all of excitement. I may sound like I'm padding the bill here a little bit but for anyone who longs for the sights, sounds, and smells of a simpler time I think you will agree with me. There is something about that country magic that keeps you yearning for a repeat performance. Today deserved a standing ovation. As the others arrived Jon came to to top of the drive. He spotted my truck and suddenly realized I had been there awhile and shouted down, "Come on up, you didn't need to wait down there!" I opened my eyes slowly back to the present moment and whispered to myself, "Yes, yes I did." 

Beauty Or The Beast?

Beauty or the Beast? 

You can get caught up in the ugliness of the world if you allow yourself to. It's a choice. I choose not to. There has never been a time when life was entirely bouquets and butterflies. For example: it's hard to embrace a dredging barge. Even the word dredge is dreadful but the process is here and its here to stay. The best thing we can do now is look beyond our grandchildren and hope that one day their grandchildren can enjoy the beautiful Hudson completely. This post is not a debate on dredging. It's about how we look at things around us. Do we really need to change the world? Maybe we should start by changing ourselves. Look beyond the mirror. Look down the road, around the corner, up the rise, and over the mountain. Sometimes it's best to take a deep breath and quit bitchin'. We have hot water, three-way bulbs, 90 second cheeseburgers, and sugarfree gum. When was the last time you had to go outside in the dark to use the restroom? Are you hungry or thirsty right now or did you just finish your sixth meal of the day and have a 64 ounce cup of something sitting next to you? We have a good life. We simply got inconvenienced over the last few years because the piper showed up with a bill and he padded it with a few extra zeroes. I am better off now than I was when gas was in the double digits. I am warmer in the winter. My cars (two of them) start without having to pump the gas pedals, and I have more music on my iPod than the local FM station has played in the last 50 years. We no longer have a clothesline. I can buy groceries at a gas station and I can buy oil at the grocery store; all without any cash in my pocket. Shall I continue? I would but Sunday Night Football just came on and I want to go click on a remote and watch a guy making twenty million dollars a year throw football to a guy only making seven million dollars a year. 

Spaghetti Night

"Classic Italian" 

There are some things should never change; places that you hope will be around forever. But change will come and so will corporate plates of imitation Italian dinners and bread sticks from the freezer. Here is a classic much as it was decades ago. The decor is living proof.

"A sign of good things to come..."

A long hall of newspaper clippings, old photographs and a vintage coat rack lead you back to two separate dining rooms. On one side is the main restaurant filled with linen covered tables and a full menu. To the left and one step up is a room lined with saggy booths, green-checkered tablecloths, and an a la carte menu. 

"Ambiance on a budget"

Design on a dime must have been here but I like it that way. The sauce tastes better when you sit in a tilted, sagging, spring-weary naugahyde booth. The beer is always colder too. 

"Seeburg Wall-O-Matic 200"

The buttons on this Seeburg tell the tale of a bygone era. Grease soaked and history full this unit has seen it's share of spaghetti stained shirts. An itunes dinosaur whose days are numbered. 

"Get your nose off the screen!" 

You can keep your French cuisine, prime rib, and lobster tails, this meal beats them all. The garlic bread  alone gives them a run for the money. Let's get twirlin'.

Mint? 

 Thanks for stopping in. Come again soon! 

Time in a Bottle

"If I could save time in a bottle"

A June Wedding