It has been a grey and gloomy sort of day here in Claverack; at one point the skies opened and torrents of rain slashed down. Mostly, I have curled into my cottage and put nose to grindstone on some volunteer work I am doing for the local community radio station, WGXC. It serves Columbia and Greene Counties and is, I have discovered, always unique, always surprising. It is the voice of this part of the Hudson Valley and I have gone in some months from not even knowing of it to realizing I can’t fathom not having its voice.
Over a hundred volunteers keep it afloat, programming by “civilians,” which cannot help being eclectic. From health and wellness to Broadway tunes to vinyl cuts with programmers from 13 years old to 83 years old, you have quite a mix.
So I am working to help them out and, like a good Catholic, realizing I wasn’t as good over the summer as I should have been, I am working extra hard now.
For fifteen years, I have always been a member of Amtrak Select Plus, which gives me access to their lounges. I am in serious jeopardy of losing it this year and am plotting how to make the points to keep it. And then I think, I am not traveling as much as I was. Should I even worry about this? I probably will find a way. The Acela Club in Penn Station is my “home away from home.”
So it is a Tuesday night. I have made myself a martini and Beatrice, my rapidly growing banana plant, and I are in the dining room, looking over the creek, a scene of grey mixed with incredible green. Classical music plays in the background, moving from the delightful to dirge like.
All this pitter patter about my life is a way of saying I have retreated from the news a bit. These are the dog days of August; the fall is coming upon us. It has been special here at the cottage this week and I have not wanted to disturb the week, the peace. I have gathered friends for get togethers. We have all avoided politics because we are worn out by the never ending campaign of 2016, which has been going on, it seems, since before I was born.
Rudy Giuliani, who was Mayor of New York, when 9/11 happened, said in a speech today that before Obama there were no attacks by terrorists on US soil. He has claimed it was a mistake; he MEANT to say NOT another until Obama. But it has come out badly for him. Excuse me, he lived through it, with me. I was there, listening to him tell us it was going to be devastating. How do you screw up so much, you, Mr. Giuliani, who lived through it with me?
For several minutes, I liked you. Now I don’t. Especially after today. The kind of speech making mistake today makes me wonder if you are holding the thread together, Rudy.
Trump is touting that if he loses the election, it will be because it is rigged. I fear that if he does lose, which I sincerely hope he does, there will be violence in the streets because that is what he is setting his followers up for. And they are not pleasant people, these Trump supporters. They seem nasty, angry [not without reason, which Hillary should speak to] and prone to violence.
I receive emails from my brother-in-law, who is definitely not a Democrat. They are a stultifying drone on how bad Obama is. He has not been all I hoped he’d be but no President ever is and I do believe a hundred years from now, history will be far kinder to him than my brother-in-law.
He was the first man elected President who was not “white.” And that has elicited furor from those who never thought that could happen. I hope he is a bridge to the future because soon, the US will no longer be “white.” It will be the mélange of immigrants of the 20th Century, the Hmong, the Vietnamese [who were vilified in places because they were so hard working], the Asians of all stripes who outstrip “Americans” who don’t want to work harder.
We are an immigrant nation. Hopefully, we always will be. I am a second generation American. I was lucky in my life, being born here, getting the education I did. I was lucky being born in America, the son of people who had been born here because their parents had come here.
Immigration is the story of the US.
Letter from the Vineyard 
Letter from Claverack 09 03 2016 Celebrating unexpected relationships…
September 3, 2016Since 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.
Tags:Claverack, Hudson, Mat Tombers, Mathew Tombers, New York, Nick Dier, Red Dot
Posted in Claverack, Columbia County, Hudson New York, Mat Tombers, Mathew Tombers, Social Commentary, Uncategorized | Leave a Comment »