Rambles in Bedford, NY and A Piece of Unsolicited Advice

On a visit to my nearby parents, I walked and jogged about 10 miles over the past 24 hours, up and down Middle Patent Road in Bedford Village, New York. Now the site of million-dollar homes, this forested neighborhood was a flashpoint  during the American Revolution when British burned the entire village of Bedford to the ground.  

On the Feast of the Holy Family: Reality Check

This is the Feast of the Holy Family, a celebration I never liked growing up because I felt the annual homily by the pastor at my hometown parish idealized Jesus and his parents and left me feeling my profoundly imperfect family could never measure up.

Now that I am quite a bit older and a bit wiser, I understand that families come in every shape and size. All of them are imperfect, and all of them can be the place where, for the rest of our lives, we learn to grow in mercy, compassion and patience. Today, an almost-forgotten voice from my childhood that helped me understand that.

Near the World Trade Center: Contemplating an Open Heart

I had not been to the World Trade Center site in about five years, hadn't taken that big escalator up to ground level, hadn't seen World Trade One or Four or seen the memorial site. 

My friend M. and I on Saturday took the PATH train to the World Trade Center. Our final destination was about a fifteen-minute walk away and this was the quickest way there from New Jersey.

During this journey, my heart was full, remembering: how I used to take the double stroller here with our two boys to visit my husband at work up on the 68th floor of Tower One and to have lunch at the Stage Door Deli, how one sunny fall day we lost friends who risked their lives in the buildings so that others could escape, how my husband managed to survive even though he waited and made sure everyone on his floor was accounted for before he headed down the stairwell. 

In Manhattan: Sunny Day, Everything's A-OK

I decided not to bring my camera or my cell phone today into Manhattan, where our family spent a spectacular day celebrating our older son's 17th birthday. I wanted to fully engage my eyes and ears in what we were doing and experiencing and not have the filter of my electronics. I'm glad I did. 

This Moment: Farmstand Tomatoes, New Paltz, New York

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Walking Over the Hudson River

Once upon a time, the Poughkeepsie railroad bridge was the first bridge of any kind to span New York State's Hudson River from the Atlantic Ocean to Albany. Opened in 1889, its promoters claimed it was the longest bridge in the world.

Now the  Hudson, which flows from upstate New York to New York City, is spanned by many bridges. and the old Poughkeepsie railroad bridge is the world's longest pedestrian bridge.

On an overcast afternoon earlier this month, my husband and I walked that bridge, dubbed the Walkway Over the Hudson. This project is an excellent example of how preserving historic sites can save money and revitalize an area. It would have cost $50 million to tear the bridge down; transforming the bridge into a state park cost $38.8 million.

At Mohonk: Thinking About Fitness and the Inexhaustibility of Human Desire

This summer, I've been determined to get fit. Given my excess weight, I see my battle as a life-or-death struggle to stay healthy for my husband and our sons. In addition to swimming 30 minutes a day, I've been strength training with the help of a personal trainer and spending an hour a day on the treadmill, trying my best to increase the pace and incline of  the treadmill. This morning, on a hike in New Paltz, New York, I was reminded, once again, that whatever endeavor we humans undertake, nothing but the Infinite will satisfy us. 

This Moment: Mohonk Mountain House

To celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary, Greg and I are spending time at Mohonk Mountain House., a resort in the Hudson Valley of New York State that dates from the late 19th century. Here, Greg checks out the view from our room as we arrive.

And, in case you are wondering, here is our view...

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Missing Our Son, Thankful for Facebook!

Our 13-year-old is spending the week at his grandparents, where five other cousins are visiting. I didn't expect to miss him.  I miss him terribly.

This Moment: Congress Park Carousel, Saratoga Springs

Their little girl, who sits between them, tried to ride on the carousel. But she had a bloody nose. So the family of three sat, quite contentedly, watching.

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National Shrine of the North American Martyrs: Blessings Amid Brutality

I'm a half-century old and have been a practicing Catholic most of those years. And yet, until yesterday, I had never visited a shrine.  I never really understood the point. As a Christian, I believe that Mystery entered human history and settled among us. As a result, Christ is our constant companion. He is with us in every moment, in the circumstances of every person we encounter. So what's the point, my thinking went, of traveling many miles to a shrine of people who lived out their destinies with an eye on the One who made them?

This was my thinking until I discovered the Jesuit Martyrs of North America, until I read and reflected on their lives, and until our son chose one of them as his Confirmation companion. Then I wanted to go to the places these brave, gentle men had lived and died. I wanted to be better inspired by their example by seeing their lived experiences. This is how Lucas and I found ourselves yesterday morning in rural Auriesville, New York, at the National Shrine of the North American Martyrs.

In Which We Discover a Gem at a Gas Station

 "We're having breakfast as a gas station?" asked our younger son yesterday morning. Before we headed inside I shot this photo of him, where he offered me the fakest of smiles.

We two had left Saratoga in the early morning to head to Auriesville, New York, where we planned to visit the Shrine of Our Lady of Martyrs.  I didn't want to fuss with the $9.95 Marriott breakfast buffet so we left our hotel on empty stomachs. I figured we'd find something along the way.

We rode along New York State Route 67, an east-west highway ("This is a highway?" Lucas asked me). Recalling my many days a quarter-century ago cycling these roads, I figured I'd find us some kind of mom-and-pop greasy spoon with linoleum tables, fried eggs and white bread. When we pulled into the gas station, I decided the Route 67 Country Store and Cafe fit the bill. Boy, was I mistaken.

A Stroll Through Saratoga Springs: Pointe Shoes and Fiberglass Horses

 Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.
― Pablo Picasso

The last time I visited Saratoga Springs, New York, our nearly 17-year-old son was  two. So I was surprised last night during an amble through this city of 26,000 souls to discover massive pointe shoes and life-sized fiberglass horses. The public artwork celebrates two big draws of this tourist town along the Adirondack Northway: dance and horse racing.