No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds – November!
-Thomas Hood- “No!”
“My mom used to say that Greek Easter was later because then you get stuff cheaper.”
Keep your paws off of other people’s jelly beans.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost (1923)
Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound’s the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
I like surprises.
The best part of Christmas beyond the presents no doubt are the little treats in the stockings left for holiday morning.
Normally if you’re not a few tatters short of a bushel you have developed the skills needed to determine the quality of a gift between three layers of wrapping and the cardboard box by age seven.
The stockings however are much more difficult to secure the identity of their treasures, most from the local dollar store; in the day it was called the five-and-dime.
After our visit to the hamlet of Woodstock, New York and its trendy tie-dye shops clumped together with CIA quality restaurants jammed with shoulder-to-shoulder visitors it was time to look for a holiday surprise and we made the loop back to State Route 28 through the Catskill State Park.
Blinking is forbidden as you near the town of West Hurley so you don’t miss the small sign pointing the way to “The Reservoir Inn” located on Basin Road at the Dike Road split.
The Inn is like a brand new shinny Western Flyer two-wheeler with silver bell only wrapped in a 1905 rustic; in need of paint; two story structure that houses some of the finest food this side of Hyde Park.
Having just come off a three thousand mile road trip from California to New York I am a self-proclaimed expert in Drive-ins, Diners, and Dives.
The interior is early 1900’s backwoods lodge comfort with a small bar that makes you want to start your breakfast on the corner stool.
The chalkboard menu is just about as tall as the hard working waitress and offered everything from seafood to a wonderful 8oz. burger and ham and cheese melt sandwich that could not have been prepared with more care or flavor.
Several other reviewers have likened the restaurant to the show “Cheers” where everyone knows your name. Given the number of local’s at the tables, it makes this a plausible thought.
As a former resident of Redlands, CA where the creators of “Cheers”, Glen and Les Charles attended the University of Redlands and would take up space at “Jerseys” a local pizza joint just blocks from the college…I say, roll me in beer batter and fry me a golden brown if this isn’t the real deal!
The story behind chef-owner, Shawn Keiser and his partner Edward Henry borders on disbelief.
The two boys, both fourteen years-old, lived a short distance from the restaurant and walked down for a bit of chess one afternoon. Overhead the clouds formed into a typical New York thunder buster and the lighting took out a transformer along the route.
Then owner and good soul, Tony Russo drove the boy’s home. On the way he offered both kids jobs as dishwashers.
Shawn worked at the restaurant off and on over the years perfecting Tony’s style both in and out of the kitchen but had a love for the weather and ended up working as a meteorologist for the Weather Channel in Atlanta.
Missing his home in the Catskill he honed his people skills as a circulation manager for local newspaper. This is a damned if you do, and damned if you don’t type of job that will either kill you or make you stronger, but you learn to take care of the customer.
When it was time for Tony to retire there was only one person he could think of that was worthy to watch over his life’s work and that was the boy’s of thunder.
Shawn’s sister, who is just one of many in the area that have San Diego connections, returned home to help out on the floor and produces a smile wider than the ocean worthy fish mounted on the wall. When hearing of the up-scale quality of her brother’s food from customers she touches on gitty.
I can only suggest that you leave the cuisine in Woodstock to those who just think they know food and rock music and drive back towards State Route 28 to nurture your palette.
Think about a drink and music on a Saturday night and if you need a close place to stay, it’s the “Roosevelt Inn” in Hyde Park where Karen Rudowski, also a student from San Diego, returned to her roots to help carry on the family’s thirty plus year-old lodging business.
Presents? You can’t eat the wrapping; the best part of the holiday is the food.
Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn’t learn a lot today, at least we learned a little, and if we didn’t learn a little, at least we didn’t get sick, and if we got sick, at least we didn’t die; so, let us all be thankful.
Just thirty minutes had passed while sitting in the waiting room but with every push of the front door the heavy steps moved to the glass window of the receptionist.
The stories were strung by the same thread…the need for quality medical care and a way to pay for it.
The Chinese couple who brought in grandma with son and daughter glued to their legs with their own needs. Speaking both Mandarin and fluent English her son interpreted both for the nurse and his mother.
“No insurance?” asked the health care provider.
“It will cost about $140 to $160.00 for the visit with additional cost of tests as needed.” Without hesitation he opened his billfold. No translation needed, this was his mom and he would do what it would take for the medical service.
The tall thin woman in jeans and black t-shirt, her skin was a pale white. It was the type of pale that made you worry, and suggested pain. You could only hear the muffled request of cost from the window and with her head lowered she shuffled out to the parking lot.
She was standing a flat five feet if you counted the carpet; thin and scrappy. You could only guess that the middle-aged daughter hanging on to her arm had her hands full.
“Fifty dollars co-pay! Hell, I’m not paying it! I’m on Medicare young lady.
I’ll just wait until next week and see my own doctor!”
“But mom you really should see_”
Little more than wrinkled skin and fluttering blue cotton material was all that you could see as she hit the door.
“Not good, not good.” he noted with each shake of his head.
“Have people been scaring you with stories of Lime Disease?” doctor Yee asked.
“No sir, you’ll be the first.” I responded.
He smiled a warm smile and stared at what now had become a very impressive bread plate sized; rock-hard; red-to-blue; blue-to-black infection high on my leg.
He covered the mass with the palm of his hand to feel the heat and that head started to shake once again.
“Well it’s not Lime Disease, definitely not Lime Disease. But, we may have to lance it (place heart dropping pause here) but it won’t be today.” Damn that smile!
“Are you allergic to anything?” the nurse asked.
“I’ve had problems with penicillin in the past.” I answered.
“Well I guess we better not give you any in the future.” she said with a hint of glee.
“That will be $50.00!” said the women at the window.
As I limped into the parking lot I was again struck by the need of quality medical care and blessed that I’ve been able to make those monthly cobra payments.