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October 03, 2007

Northeastern Exposure

On the heels of my visit to Texas, I needed some cool, clear air, and so we packed up the car and drove north to Lake George, New York. Robbi's dad and his sister, Robbi's Aunt Mimi, spent their childhood summers in Silver Bay, NY, and Robbi's grandfather built a little cottage there years ago. Here it is:

We drove up on Friday. Saturday we set out for a bit of a drive along the lake. We lunched in Ticonderoga.

Robbi talked me into buying her a caramel apple.

After lunch, we picked raspberries.

Rather, Robbi picked raspberries while I kept a lookout for trouble.

Eventually I found these strange little bugs.

On the way back to the cottage, we stopped in the cemetery where Robbi's grandparents are buried.

Theirs is one of the most beautiful headstones I've ever seen.

The day was glorious, and we were near a lake, and so we decided to do some kayaking.

The water was incredibly clear.

There was one short, low-end kayak with a heavy handle and one long, high-end kayak with a light paddle.

Guess who got the nice kayak...

...and was subsequently much faster?

Things were going well, when suddenly we came upon some danger.

Sitting as I was in the low-end, slow, cumbersome kayak, I was nearly overcome by the danger.

But then I dug deep and found the courage to confront my fears, and found, to my surprise, that I love danger. A lot.

We continued on and eventually came upon an island.

Robbi, in the faster, better, sleeker, more virtuous kayak got there first, and declared herself the discoverer, and therefore president, of the island.

I could tell right away that she was going to be a tyrant.

And so I opted to remain neutral, floating, unallied.

Eventually I remembered that while Robbi might be faster and more dexterous on water, that I was still bigger and likely to hold my own against her on solid ground. And so I decided to attempt a landing.

It was with great trepidation that I stepped on the virgin shores, unspoiled by the white man's footfall, wondering what marvels awaited me as I explored the untouched acres.

I found myself on some outer peninsula of the island and was uncertain how to make it to the mainland.

Eventually I found a path, treacherous, but navigable.

I explored the indigenous flora.

And found surprisingly little in terms of fauna.

Within 15 minutes, we considered the island officially "conquered."

There were no peoples to subdue, no minerals to extract, no acres to ruin with agriculture, not even room enough to build a mini-mart. And so we left, disgusted.

And headed back to the dock for a swim.

It seemed like an excellent opportunity to practice my jumping.

At first I was tentative.

Then slightly less tentative.

Then really not very tentative.

Then, frankly, downright untentative.

It was the best jump of my life. I may never jump again.

Later that night, back at the cottage, we played Rummicub with Mimi and her friend Carol.

I wish I could say that the cottage was as warm and cozy-looking as it appears in these pictures. It is warm and cozy, don't get me wrong, but the camera was doing something unreal with the light in these.

I don't know if you've every played Rummicub, but it is a lot like gin rummy, but with tiles instead of cards. Success in the game is entirely dependent on being good with numbers and recognizing patterns, etc., things that do not come naturally to me or Robbi. Mimi was being very patient and helpful, though, pointing out moves we were neglecting to make, thus keeping us from losing horribly each hand. In fact, Robbi was doing very well and was in a position to win the whole shebang. Until I got a really good hand and sent her packing (with lots of help from Mimi, I must admit).

I don't think Iggy appreciated having her picture taken a few minutes later as we went walking in the dark along the road outside the cottage. She was so thoroughly blinded by the flash that she ran into things for a few minutes. I felt bad.

The next morning we went hiking up to Jabe's Pond, a hike that Robbi remembers from childhood Augusts at the local YMCA camp. Apparently, the Jabe's Pond hike was the hike of choice for the "woozles," the particular level of the YMCA camp hierarchy that Robbi inhabited during the summers in question. She had graduated from "wee-woozles" but had not yet attained the rank of "chippy." She is still brimming with woozle pride, apparently, and even sang the woozle song for me.

We encountered impressive fungi.

And a large rock.

Two years ago, when Iggy was just a pup, she had been unwilling to try scaling the same rock.

Eventually we made it to the lake.

But the lake was not the point. The point was the day, the blue sky, the clear light, the perfect temperature. I enjoy living on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, but my heart is in the northeast, and the day affirmed this.

The next day, we drove to Williamstown.

On the way, we stopped by the roadside for apples.

Robbi enjoys untraditional routes to obtaining produce (picking, buying from roadside, etc, and one of my duties as husband is remembering this).

We purposefully took back roads so that we could drive through Hoosac Falls, NY, the town where we'd love to live someday, in part because of this great big building, which has been for sale for years.

Our plan is to start a school with our friends as teachers and administrators. So far we have the following subjects covered: theatre, writing, art, music, math, history, psychology, religion, and probably some others. And we have a great head of school in Dahna Goldstein. And the school would have lots of brilliant attorneys, so we'd be fine when we got sued for not doing enough to prep our students for the SAT.

So if you like this idea and you'd like to get the ball rolling, please buy us the building and we'll get started.

We also drove by this patch of road to wistfully remember the day I hit a telephone, a possum, and got a flat tire in the course of five minutes.

The unexpected twist: I got the flat tire before I hit the telephone and the possum. I kid you not.

In Williamstown, we stopped at Water Street Books, to talk about doing a reading in January, when we'll be in town to teach our Winter Study Course.

We were very honored and gratified to see For the Love of God book shelved next to Love and Hydrogen, a book by Jim Shepard, our personal hero and mentor. It's kind of like a minor misshapen asteroid being shelved next to the sun.

Here is Jim, in a recent photograph.

Jim has just released a new book of stories called Like You'd Understand, Anyway. I encourage you to buy it and read it. For those of you who are more moved by New York Times reviews than by my recommendation, the folks at the Times liked it quite a bit.

We were in Williamstown not to admire the shelving of our books, but to see a performance of a traditional Japanese artform, part of a national tour of one of Japan's living national treasures organized by Maiko. But the performance was really interesting and wonderful and deserves its own entry. Which will be forthcoming.

That night we drove home to Chestertown. For those of you who have not had the pleasure, this is what the Delaware Memorial Bridge looks like at 3:00am.


Posted by bogenamp at October 3, 2007 01:17 PM