I take for granted in this suburb/urban environment that there is a whole other world out there. It’s something we all need to experience once in a while to remember how glorious this world is. We get so wrapped up in every day affairs, the simple is neglected, the grounding we may have once experienced as children seems forever gone. It’s the inevidible return to nature.
It amazes me to know there are city people who have never experienced the beauty of a natural environment. Every day they hit the streets and live amongst the mechanization of human kind, amongst the cars, trains, telephones, car alarms, traffic lights and perhaps if they’re lucky they can find a little oasis amongst the streets. I had one once in Herald Square, a glorious little place taken care of by landscapers. Inside the honking horns, and miscellaneous talks came this natural place with benches, a bronze statue, plant pots- all shrunk to the size of less than a city block- BUT it was an oasis.
I spent the last few days in the Catskills in New York, roughly 2 hours from New York City, and the polar opposite. It made me wonder how people actually survived out there, along one main highway with a couple of general stores and some mechanic shop. There was a giant snow shovel, the ones fixed to the front of a huge truck off to the side of the road labelled Cairo, NY. It was odd, almost like the representation of industrial America- the Sphinx of small town America. The question crept up several times, why would someone from a suburb or urban environment, pack up and move out to this small place in the mountains. How could they maintain themselves, if not tending a farm?
Part of the attraction of this area is the large concentration of Irish. When you cruise down the main street, there are Shamrocks, O’Malleys, Ryans, Gavins, Milligans, and even an Irish shop which sells everything from Cardigans to Gold Claddaghs. It’s as if this small haven had been dropped from the very banks of Killarney. Another real nice thing is the hotels are more like family run bed and breakfasts. There are several which are owned by generations of family, who welcome you as their own. One price includes three full family cooked meals, a tea station, a pool, a beautiful view, a FAMILY pub (like straight out of Ireland), and plenty of hiking trails. In the one we stayed there were stone walls which lined the property. They could have been a couple of weeks old or centuries old. A beautiful waterfall within walking distance and water which cascaded through stone carved channels, with some of the best skipping stones EVER. I’d even took one the size of a boulder and was able to skip the thing throwing it with two hands!
There’s a peacefulness to running water. It opens the senses. If you take an early morning hike up these steep ridges, you’d be amazed at all the wonderful sounds, scents, and visuals which come to you. I had such joy walking alone next to this creek, following the old stone wall, tredging through the decayed leaves and the new sapplings, looking at the woodpecker holes lining a dead stump, and bouncing from a still flexible fallen tree a few inches above the ground. I found some rusted old cans, some broken pottery, even a lone mandible of some animal, still the water rushed down the mountainside- beneath a bridge on which an occasional car would go.
I think another thing I enjoyed most, which I hadn’t done since I was a kid was a Marshmellow roast over a camp fire. The thought of putting one on a stick and lighting it on fire, blowing it out and eating it, was to me the highlight of our trip. Kids everywhere crowding around this massive fire, shielding their faces from the smoke and the wind blown flame. Giggling and jumping with excitement. Something about the smell of an open fire, when it permeats your clothes… brings the cromagnon man out I think.
When I was a kid, my father allowed us to build small bonfires in a controlled wooded space behind our home. We didn’t exactly live in a large open area. The neighbors were close, but it was largely wooded and we’d cleared out an area of dirt- got some old stumps to sit on, and dug a pit in which we’d invite our friends over to “bonfire”. I’m sure the neighbors knew, but everyone seemed to be ok with it. The police never broke up our sharade.
One night my father came out and walked across the deck (which was elevated, and hid our little fire pit). We hadn’t told him we were going to set a fire, but just went ahead and did it. We thought he’d be furious, but to our surprize when he saw us, he joined us. I remember his excitement when he explained about cooking SPUDS on the fire. “Let me go get some….” He ran into the house and reappeared with 4-5 potatos wrapped in foil. He threw them into the hot embers and over the course of 15-20 minutes they cooked. Tasted pretty fine too, from what I remember.
The whole bonfire thing brings back those kind of things, as does the hiking and being in the outdoors. Once again, I get back to saying every so often it’s important to GET AWAY. To realize there is another world outside the computer and our attachments to cellular phones, televisions, cars, vcr’s, dvd players, direct tv, satellite phones. To become a hermit, on the land of Oz, where we rediscover our brain and our heart… which brings me to a song this writing just inspired. A song by the great Nipsey Russell as seen in the Wiz… “What Would I do if I could feel”.
I leave you with this beautiful thought and beg you to go check this out on youtube:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=clnSp8-FNCw
I don’t think there’s a better way to end this blog… so until next time my wonderful readers. Your faithful servant of the written word- Steve