My "happy place" has always been the northwestern portion of CT. as I've mentioned (ad nauseum)…read moreseveral times, but that "happy" space encompasses much of NY State too, and I've had a history with at least portions of the state since earliest memory. We traveled to NYC often, but upstate as well, at least occasionally, as a family.
One of my earliest memories is visiting the "North Pole" in the Adirondacks. My clearest memory of that visit? Staying in a motel and watching "The Green Hornet" on TV (with a pre-fame Bruce Lee as the Hornet's sidekick). We also visited John Brown's farm in Lake Placid. Portions of that visit stayed with me all my life, even though at that point I had little idea of who Brown had been or what he had done, and Brown later became 1 of my heroes, along with Nat Turner (I recommend the John Brown biography "To Purge This Land with Blood," by the late Stephen Oates, who also wrote a book on Turner).
West Point was another treasured visitation spot for my family. As I've written elsewhere, my father desperately wanted me to "inherit" his love for football and often brought me to West Point to watch Army games. I came to sustain a lifelong love for the historic campus at West Point and the beauty of the Hudson Valley and bonding-time with Dad, but...alas...I'm as bored with football now as I was as a callow child.
As a young man, I began visiting historic cemeteries up and down the Hudson River, including Oak Hill Cemetery in Nyack (supposedly haunted) with a breath-taking view of the Tappan Zee Bridge. On the other side of the Hudson, there was the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery in Tarrytown.
As I grew older, I explored some of the towns and villages going up the Hudson. Cold Spring (a wonderful place, with exquisite restaurants and fascinating antique shops), Newburgh, Beacon, New Paltz, Poughkeepsie, Hyde Park, Catskill, Hudson (a center of prostitution in the 1950s), Saugerties, Kingston. Some of the towns had a bleak, run-down appearance; I often referred to them as "Twilight Zone" towns. However, even the most depressing of them had a charm and the beauty of the Hudson River and the Catskill Mountains as a backdrop.
In Acra, I found the home of my childhood hero, mobster Jack "Legs" Diamond. The house looked almost exactly as it did in 1931 (the guest house across the street for Legs' gunmen had become an Elks Club), and it was for sale! My old friend called the real estate agent, and we were given a tour of the house, which my friend was able to record (before we entered the house, the agent said, "I have to tell you beforehand that this house once belonged to Legs Diamond."). It was surreal, and exhilarating! Legs Diamond once walked through these very hallways, maybe with Lucky Luciano or Dutch Schultz (when they weren't shooting at each other) as an occasional guest. In an upstairs bedroom, my friend said, "This must be where Legs slept." With his wife Alice or his mistress Kiki, or perhaps another paramour (in addition to being a dangerous bootlegger and killer, Legs was a dapper "ladies' man.")? The agent declined to speculate. This agent was patient and kind, but we must have come across as 2 kooks-- not to make too much of it, but I felt like a Revolutionary War fanatic being given a personalized tour of George Washington's boyhood domicile. God knows, my friend has annoyed and exasperated me over the years with his drunken antics, but I've always said, "Arranging that visit is your 'Get Out of Jail' card with me."
I visited Buffalo once with my parents. My aunt and uncle lived there. I enjoyed the visit but wasn't overly impressed with Buffalo. But Niagara Falls did make a distinct, indelible impression. I also vividly remember traveling through the Thousand Islands area with some friends on our way to fish in Canada.
I've never been to Albany or Syracuse or Rochester or Plattsburgh. But NY State is a BIG, sprawling state. A lot to see, and not enough hours in a lifetime to see all of it.
In a recent conversation with my oldest friend, I mentioned that, if I had my "dream life," I'd live somewhere in Vermont, a state I've never been to, but have "visited" in my fantasy life while looking through photo books. My friend said, "What would you do up there? You think the college kids in Bennington want to hang out with an old man like you? You'd sit on the porch and stare at the trees. No, if you ever get your wish, you should go to the Hudson Valley. That's your 'happy place.' Take photos of the pristine mountains and the river. Or the lovely old cemeteries. Visit the shops and bookstores. Sit in the restaurants. Find a place where local musicians are playing. That's where you should wind up, not Vermont!"
I can't think of any argument to counter that. I think if I can die while watching the flow of the Hudson River in the shimmering moonlight with the towering mountains rising majestically beyond, and the stars twinkling brightly above, I'll die a happy, contented man.
