Tag: #travel

  • Thoughts While Disc Golfing (Unedited)

    Early this past Saturday morning, I got in the car and I drove north to go disc golf at Beacon Glades, which just so happens to be in Beacon, NY. It’s a free course, volunteer supported, and the place is designed around an abandoned summer camp. There is a slight “Friday the 13th” vibe, especially around the hole that are in the abandoned cabins and bunks. It’s a great place, I’ve shot it twice, and the people out there, players and volunteers, are friendly and supportive. I plan on going back again this Fall if not more often.

    Normally the kid and the wife go with me, but this weekend they wanted to stay in The City, so I went out on my own. I was a little disappointed that I was going alone, as I had looked forward to some company, but I didn’t let that hold me back. Heading out on my own did mean that I was going to be able to listen to my music in the car, and to also play it loud, and to sing off key with it.

    Depending on how you look at it, it was either wonderful late summer morning, or a crisp early Autumn day. WAZE told me it would be best to cross the George Washington Bridge and take a Palisades Parkway up to the Bear Mountain Bridge to cross back over the Hudson. The Palisades is a great drive because, even though you are cutting through northern Jersey and heavily suburban Rockland County, NY, the parkway is lined and covered with trees which makes you believe that you are cutting through the middle of the woods. Everything is still green and bright here, but if you were to look at the tops of the trees, every now and then you could make out the tiniest splash of red, orange and yellow. Autumn isn’t too far away.

    Once I crossed over the Bear Mountain Bridge, I was to take state route 9D north to Beacon. This is one of my favorite drives, as the route runs parallel to the Hudson River, and gives you a clear understanding why the Valley has been an inspiration to people for hundreds of years. It’s a pleasant drive, several curves, a tunnel and lots of hikers. The drive isn’t too long, and on the out skirts of Beacon is the disc golf course.

    Like I said, I had played Beacon Glades before, and it looked exactly the same. I had an arrived at a good time, not many people playing, and I was welcomed by two guys sitting near the first hole. Not sure if they were volunteers, or just nice guys, but they pointed me to the first hole, and let me know that the conditions were good today.

    Even when I do a little warm up, stretching and throwing some practices discs, it does take me three holes to feel like I know what I’m doing. I say that because I do shank everything to the left, and cannot throwing anything straight to save my life. I am aware that there are techniques I could follow, and other tips, but to be honest, I don’t care that much. If I shot even on the course, I’d be happy; a birdy or two would be cool, but I can honestly say that’s not why I am there. Beacon Glades is the type of disc golf course that I love because it is like hiking-lite. After the fourth hole, the course heads into the woods, going up and down the side of a hill. There is a ruggedness to this place, and I’m not implying that it’s unkept, as what I mean is that the holes work with the land, and don’t feel like they were carved out.

    For the record, I shot awful; +22. Though I did par hole 10 with one of the best putts in my life that no one saw.

    It took me a little less than two hours to complete the course, and I discovered that if I am alone throwing, I talk to myself. Not that I was having a conversation with myself, just saying things out loud, like “That was awful,” “Not bad,” and “Where did that go?” I did just enough talking to only seem a little crazy.

    Walking around the woods on that Saturday, I realized that it had been years since I had gone out and done something for myself, by myself. I think it’s been over five years, when I headed out to the beach at Bodega Bay, going to the secret parking lot that a local told me about, and just watched the surf rolling in under the slightly gray sky. Since the Pandemic, I pretty much spend every day with someone. That isn’t a complaint, I love being with my family. But I give my time to them. And when I am alone, there is always something that I need to do that occupies my time.

    Heading home, I went back the way I came. I thought about heading home in a different way – maybe drive through Sleepy Hollow. But I knew the kid would be upset if I did that without her. Maybe next weekend.

  • Good Ol’ Vermont

    We got away for one last Summer trip over Labor Day Weekend, and this is something that we never do – travel over Labor Day that is. In fact, this might be the first trip I ever did on this weekend. Most of the time, we are in the City, and do something in Central Park, or most often, we don’t do anything.

    This year, we got an invitation from friends in Vermont to come and visit them, and it was hard to pass it up. I love New York City, but there is also something great about leaving New York City, especially when it’s hot out.

    We made the most of our short amount of time. Got on the road early to beat the crowds, and really, once you get past Springfield, MA, it’s like you are just driving in the woods. And the further north we went, obviously, the cool it got. This allowed me to do my most favorite thing in the whole wide world, which is wear a sweater in August. I might have been sweating a little, but it was in the 60’s and that was good enough for me.

    But in all honesty, it was nice to be in a place where it was cool at night, with crickets chirping, and the stars all above. It was fun to have the kids playing and the adults talking in the next room. There was morning disc golf and an afternoon hike to a hidden waterfall. Even got some swimming in, which the kid liked.

    And as we drove home, we noticed that the very tops of the tress had started to change color. Little specks of red, yellow and orange were beginning to show up. As if right on cue. As one season ended, we could see the other one about to enter.

  • ODDS and ENDS: End of Summer, Banana Ball, and Monday

    (Nothing really matters, anyone can see…)

    Well, I know the season of Summer isn’t over, but the kid starts school on Monday, so that means that this is the last weekend of Summer Vacation for the kid, and hr family as a whole. It did go by fast, and I do think all of us were ready for it to come to an end. This was the first Summer that we all chaffed at leaving our routine. I think in a large way, we had all come to enjoy the order that the school year brought us. It was like we had too much freedom. That really isn’t fully true, as we did enjoy going to to community pool, and the kid did love going to camp. The short vacation to West Virginia was relaxing, and calm and very enjoyable. It gave the wife and I a chance to recharge, and like all truly good vacations, it was over too soon. And though we still have at least another four weeks of heat and humidity in the City before we will notice a season change, it is time that we say farewell to Summer 2025. Goodbye, Summer… Goodbye, Summer…

    Okay, I get it; Banana Ball is a whole lotta fun. I will also say this; Banana Ball respects its fans, which is way more than I can same for MLB, the NFL, or NHL, and I’ll throw the NBA on that pile, too. Perhaps Banana Balls success is because it leans more in towards entertainment rather than athleticism, which is not to say the players are not athletes, for they are. Or perhaps Banana’s success is because the fan comes first in this equation. No flex priced tickets, no televised games stuck behind paywalls, no paying to reserve the right to buy season tickets, and basically not treating fans like they’re a mark who needs to have as much money squeezed out of them as possible.

    Speaking of the end of Summer, and stuff starting on Monday. I gotta get back into my writing routine…

  • Good Gawd, It’s Hot Today

    It’s pretty hot in New York today; 93. Tomorrow it’s going to be even hotter; possibly over 100 degrees. And don’t get me started on the humidity and the dew point! It’s hot, sticky, and swampy outside. And though July and August can feel pretty oppressive around here, the temperature rarely gets close to 100. So, when it does that hot and awful, it can be dangerous for people who aren’t used to it.

    This morning, as the wife and I were having our coffee and watching the local news, and the weatherman was telling us again at how awful and dangerous it was going to be today, I pointed out that back in Texas, where we grew up, 93 degrees with a 70% dew point in late June wouldn’t cause anyone any concern. But 93 in New York is like 103 in Texas, the wife pointed out.

    True.

    Writing on this blog, I haven’t hidden how much I hate hot weather. That I completely blame on growing up in Texas. But I will say this; that I know how to handle the heat. First of all, you just don’t go outside. If you do go outside, make sure you get in your car, preferable parked in the shade, crank up the air conditioning in the car, and drive some place that will also have air conditioning. The worst part will be parking, and then crossing the parking lot to get to that building that has air conditioning. And make sure you have a hat, and light clothes. But if you have to wear jeans, it’ll be fine, you won’t be outdoors that long.

    I’m not joking when I say this; you just don’t go outside during the hottest part of the day. That’s why there are siestas. You do stuff in the morning, and you do stuff at night; both are times of day when it not THAT hot out.

    See, it’s not that hard. Provided that you have air conditioning.

    If you don’t have an A/C, then it’s very dangerous and you need to be careful and hydrated.

  • The Age of Dinner Parties

    The Age of Dinner Parties

    The other day, the kid was asking me and the wife lots of questions of what our life was like before she was born. It’s a fair and very good question, or more accurately, questions that she was asking us. The wife and I were together for nine years before the kid was born, so we had a good amount of time of being a couple before we became a family.

    As I reminisced about our past life, it dawned on me that we had a very unique period of about two years, where we host other couples at our place for dinner parties. And on the flip of that, we were invited over to several couples dinner parties. It was a very specific time of us and all of our friends, as we were entering our thirties, beginning to be established in careers, all in committed relationships, but we weren’t married yet and didn’t have kids. I mean, as soon as people started getting married, kids weren’t far behind, and then some started moving out of the City.

    I still have a Spotify playlist for one of our dinner parties from long ago.

    It was a fun time. Usually we hosted on a Saturday night. The wife, at the time the girlfriend, would come up with the menu and I would shop for it over the week. We’d do some prep on Friday night, and most of that would be the making of the desert. The wife was the chef and I the assistant. My strength was in cutting veggies, and making drinks. The wife did the heavy lifting for the rest of the food. We made a really good team in the kitchen, and by the time the other couple arrived, I only had the entertain for maybe 30 minutes and then we were eating.

    The other side that I miss was the conversation. Most of the time, it always started off the same way. When the guests would arrive, we’d talk about what trains they took to get to our place, and transit in general. Next we’d sit for the meal, and the conversation would move to food; either on cooking or places we’d eaten at recently. By the time desert came around, people had a drink or two, then things got really fun. People would tell stories, or experiences they had, or a friendly debate would occur. It was the moment when we started really getting to know people, who they were, and how they worked.

    I remember that after one particular fun and engaging dinner party, me and the wife high-fived after the guests left because we were so excited and proud of ourselves for hosting such a good evening.

    But things changed, and having an adult evening over at someone’s place, only adults, is a pretty rare thing now. I’m not complaining, because it was a moment of our lives that existed for a very specific time, and place.

    Just hadn’t thought about it in a while.