Letter from Claverack 09 03 2016 Celebrating unexpected relationships…

Since 2005, I have had help on weekends from someone in Hudson.  First it was Christopher and we worked together for two or three years and then it was Christopher and Eddie.  But when Christopher started waiting tables on weekends at the Dot, he fell away and then Eddie got another job and Eddie’s younger brother, Nick, took over.

About that time, Nick Stuart, came into my life and our friendship blossomed.  So when differentiating the various Nicks in my life, I started calling the Nick who helped me “Young Nick.”

He has loyally stayed with me since he started.  One year I thought I had lost him to the Carnival circuit when he left town with the people who do the rides at County Fairs after he had worked the Columbia County Fair.  Somewhere in Connecticut, he tired of the Carnie life and came back home.

He is twenty-three now, has two daughters and is no longer “Young Nick” though I still call him that sometimes.  He has two daughters.  I was at the christening of his first daughter, Alicia, and he has asked me to be the godfather to his second daughter, Lettie.  His father helps me out too and I’ve become friendly with his family.  When one of his brothers got married, they asked me to the wedding.  Martin, his father, has even given me a hug.  I’ve been told that just doesn’t happen.  But it did last Christmas.

Today, “Young Nick” was here with his friend Giovanni, freshly back from Florida, straightening up and bringing the cottage back to “tickety boo” as my other friend Nick would say.  “Young Nick” has been absent for two weeks, dealing with other jobs that were more demanding than my needs so things were getting rough.  Now they’re not.

When I was sick in February, it was Nick who came and took me to the hospital, getting to my house in half the time it usually takes.  At Christmas, when I am doing my Christmas quiches for the neighbors, Nick acts as my sous chef.  He has helped at my parties. Now regular guests expect to see him here and ask regularly about how he is doing.

He is much more than a person who helps out.  He is part of that extended “family of choice” as we go through life.  I feel very avuncular toward him.  He has grown up in front of me, week after week.  It has been quite amazing to watch.  It has, indeed, been a privilege.

Right now my house glistens; my yard, such as it is, is perfect.   He and his father, Martin, redecorated my bathroom, installed my new appliances, have fixed a plethora of broken objects in my home.  He repainted my living and dining room, in one week, while I was in the city.  When I returned, it was done to perfection and everything was back exactly where it had been.

When I started writing tonight, I didn’t mean to make a paean to “Young Nick” but sitting in the freshly fluffed house and yard, I have been overcome by my gratitude to have this person in my life.

Since 2005, I have had help on weekends from someone in Hudson.  First it was Christopher and we worked together for two or three years and then it was Christopher and Eddie.  But when Christopher started waiting tables on weekends at the Dot, he fell away and then Eddie got another job and Eddie’s younger brother, Nick, took over.

About that time, Nick Stuart, came into my life and our friendship blossomed.  So when differentiating the various Nicks in my life, I started calling the Nick who helped me “Young Nick.”

He has loyally stayed with me since he started.  One year I thought I had lost him to the Carnival circuit when he left town with the people who do the rides at County Fairs after he had worked the Columbia County Fair.  Somewhere in Connecticut, he tired of the Carnie life and came back home.

He is twenty-three now, has two daughters and is no longer “Young Nick” though I still call him that sometimes.  He has two daughters.  I was at the christening of his first daughter, Alicia, and he has asked me to be the godfather to his second daughter, Lettie.  His father helps me out too and I’ve become friendly with his family.  When one of his brothers got married, they asked me to the wedding.  Martin, his father, has even given me a hug.  I’ve been told that just doesn’t happen.  But it did last Christmas.

Today, “Young Nick” was here with his friend Giovanni, freshly back from Florida, straightening up and bringing the cottage back to “tickety boo” as my other friend Nick would say.  “Young Nick” has been absent for two weeks, dealing with other jobs that were more demanding than my needs so things were getting rough.  Now they’re not.

When I was sick in February, it was Nick who came and took me to the hospital, getting to my house in half the time it usually takes.  At Christmas, when I am doing my Christmas quiches for the neighbors, Nick acts as my sous chef.  He has helped at my parties. Now regular guests expect to see him here and ask regularly about how he is doing.

He is much more than a person who helps out.  He is part of that extended “family of choice” as we go through life.  I feel very avuncular toward him.  He has grown up in front of me, week after week.  It has been quite amazing to watch.  It has, indeed, been a privilege.

Right now my house glistens; my yard, such as it is, is perfect.   He and his father, Martin, redecorated my bathroom, installed my new appliances, have fixed a plethora of broken objects in my home.  He repainted my living and dining rooms, in one week, while I was in the city.  When I returned, it was done to perfection and everything was back exactly where it had been.

When I started writing tonight, I didn’t mean to make a paean to “Young Nick” but sitting in the freshly fluffed house and yard, I have been overcome by my gratitude to have this person in my life.

 

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