vacation Archives - Page 4 of 6 - Ramblin' with Roger

Circular question answering New York Erratic

Let me say that while Thanksgiving and Christmas are wonderful and all, there seems to be a lot of sense of obligation.

And in an act that defies logic, I am now answering questions that New York Erratic answered for me, even though I gave them to her, based on questions Lisa posted, and which Dustbury also answered… Oh never mind.

1. What is your dream vacation spot and why?

It would be a place by the water, preferably running water, like a river or waterfalls, because I love water; maybe it’s the Pisces in me. It would be neither too hot nor too cold. MaybeVictoria Falls, in September.

2. Where did you come up with the name of your blog?

There was a long-running radio talk show called Rambling with Gambling, from which I got the Ramblin’ part. The Roger part, I have no idea.

3. How do you define blogging success?

It really does vary. While I don’t especially care, when my Times Union blog is trending, or when Chuck Miller declares it one of the week’s 10 best, I enjoy that.

But the real success is that I find people with whom to have reasonable, usually rational, dialogue. Such as with New York Erratic.

4. What is your favorite type of “going out” entertainment?

I like going to the movies because I like seeing movies in the theater. Watching videos often creates the temptation to pause it and do something else. That’s OK with something I’ve seen before, but not the first time. That’s why I ultimately canceled Netflix; I had The Hurt Locker for four or five months, and never found two solid hours to watch it without The Daughter around, or being too tired, or too busy.

5. How many states (name them) have you lived in?

North Carolina (for four months). New York (the rest of my life.)

6. What is your favorite holiday and why?

Ash Wednesday. Let me say that while Thanksgiving and Christmas are wonderful and all, there seems to be a lot of sense of obligation. The beginning of Lent is a time of quiet reflection. When I was a kid, it was only the Catholics I knew that got the ashes on the forehead, but lots of Protestant churches, including the last two I’ve belong to, participate, and I think it’s an easy, but symbolic, way for religious rapprochement.

7. What’s your favorite number and why?

I really do like zero. It’s nothing, yet it’s massive in combination. It’s that dividing line between the positive and the negative. What’s not to like?

8. What would be your dream vehicle to own?

Some motorized bicycle that I’d turn on for hills, and pedal otherwise.

9. What is your favorite hobby?

I suppose it’s singing, though, until you brought it up, I never thought of singing as a hobby, but rather just WHAT I DO, WHO I AM. Or blogging.

10. How do you try and keep your blog fresh?

I change the blog filter every 3,000 miles. Cereally, I actually plotted out 2014, or parts of it. I decided on my ABC Wednesday topics for every week in Round 14, back in October; didn’t write them, of course, but knowing what I was going to write about gets the brain working. Then I found the half dozen people who turn 70 I want to write about. Then there are holidays and observances. And anything I find interesting I don’t have anything to write about, I link to at the end of the month. This leaves the rest of the time for movie reviews and life experiences. In other words, I throw the blog against the wall and see what sticks.

11. Where do you do your best thinking?

In the shower, or riding the stationary bike. Or when I first wake up, which is why I like to blog when I first wake up (and don’t particularly like to blog at night).

Cherry Valley and the Limestone Inn 2014

The Limestone Mansion is a happening place.

Back in October 2001, the Wife and I went to Cherry Valley, NY, about an hour west of Albany. It was, of course, a month after 9/11, and I wanted to get away. She had contended then that we could do what is now known as a staycation. As I have noted, she rather sucks at staycation; she now acknowledges this to be true.

And the Limestone Mansion in 2001 was a pretty good place to be: no TV, no Internet, just nice rooms. The owners, Wolfgang and Loretta, also made breakfast, but they had arranged some chef to do dinners, and they were, I must say, fabulous.

It was probably some desire to recreate that time that when we arranged to revisit the Limestone for Memorial Day weekend, that The Wife asked me to leave all of my devices, save for the cellphone, home. Though I found it odd, I did, and not only did I regret it, eventually so did she.

It was a trip that almost didn’t happen at all. The car, in that past week, had an irritating habit of starting only occasionally, having SOMETHING to do with the ignition doohickey. That Friday, the Wife left before 7 a.m., drove from Albany to Sharon Hill (which is near Sharon Springs) to drop off the car, get the rental, drive back to her schools near Albany, and teach. After I left work early – really tired (more on that eventually, probably) – and we packed., we went to Oneonta (pretty much the junction of I-88 and 28), eat dinner at my in-law’s house (my father-in-law’s birthday), leave the Daughter there, and finally get to Cherry Valley at 9 p.m.

This time, we were not in the mansion itself, but in the carriage house behind it. Interestingly, it had Internet connectivity – because the NYC visitors become verklempt without being in touch – but the main house still did not.

Saturday morning, we went down for breakfast in the main building. Wolfgang cooked and Loretta served the breakfast. There was a split of champagne for us to have a mimosa if we wanted. The Wife was, as she put it, a mimosa virgin, and indeed did not know what one was. I poured some of her orange juice into the flute glass, added the bubbly, and we both had a lovely addition to the meal.

Wolfie and Loretta told us great stories about moving from New York City. They’d purchased other properties. One of the two fights they ever had in their marriage was when, in 1995, he purchased the Limestone. There was over $450,000 due on the mortgage, but he bought it for a third of that. Still, it needed a lot of work, and they didn’t take their first reservation until 1997.

They are currently open only between Memorial Day weekend and mid-September. They were open later in the season, but it can snow there in mid-October, and too often travelers would cancel out because of the weather. Given that they have to go all the way to Oneonta, 45 minutes away, for supplies, that would be onerous.

No longer does the Mansion serve dinner. They had a series of chefs, some from the famed Culinary Institute, who were great cooks, but lousy businesspeople. Loretta noted that one was spending twice as much for the same eggs as she did. A few of them had a taste for the booze.

It’s a happening place. There have been baseball stars, current and retired, there for the Hall of Fame events. (Sidebar: President Obama was in Cooperstown the Thursday before, promoting tourism; ironically, his presence made it impossible for a couple from Sweden, staying at the inn, from visiting the Hall.) The location also draws the opera crowd from Glimmerglass, near Cooperstown. People from the TV show Castle, I believe the writer Andrew Marlowe, have stayed. As luck would have it, that weekend, I got to talk with a commissioner from the Public Service Commission, which was to be holding hearings about the proposed (dreadful) merger of Time Warner Cable with Comcast that following Wednesday.

More soon.

Q is for Q&A about FDR

Eleanor Roosevelt was a distant cousin of FDR. She was “given away” by her uncle, Theodore Roosevelt.

The family was in the Mid-Hudson area of New York State back in August. We were on the west side of the river, when we crossed the Mid-Hudson Bridge from Highland to Poughkeepsie.
Q: Wait, it’s now the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Mid-Hudson Bridge. When did THAT happen?
A: The bridge was renamed… in 1994 though the span is rarely referred to by its official name.
Q: And why is it named for him anyway?
A: “Governor and local resident [FDR] and his wife Eleanor attended the opening ceremony on August 25, 1930.”
Q: And I mention this all because…
A: We needed to cross the bridge to visit Hyde Park, the location of the longtime home of the 32nd President of the US. It’s just five miles north of Poughkeepsie.
Q: So is the town or the FDR estate called Hyde Park?
A: Well, the town is, but the estate was.

“Dr. John Bard had called his estate ‘Hyde Park’ in honor of Edward Hyde, who was Lord Cornbury and Governor of New York.” A tavern owner named his business ‘Hyde Park Inn’, then “applied for a post office to be located at his Inn, which was nothing unusual. The request was granted as the ‘Hyde Park Post office’… the Post Office’s name was ‘Hyde Park’, and thus residents’ mailing address was ‘Hyde Park’…the settlement’s name [was changed] from Stoutenburgh to Hyde Park officially in 1812.”
Q: And the estate of FDR.
A: Springwood is the site of the Home of Franklin D. Roosevelt National Historic Site maintained by the National Park Service.
Q: What else is there?
A: Usually, the Presidential library – the first one designed by a sitting President – and a museum. The bad news is when we were there, they were under renovation. The good news is if we go back after June 2013, we can visit the refurbished buildings for free with our already purchased tickets.
Q: Why was the place so special to him?
A: It was his boyhood home, and it had (has) a spectacular view of the Hudson River and beyond.

Q: He got married to his cousin?
A: Eleanor Roosevelt was a distant cousin. She was “given away” by her uncle, Theodore Roosevelt on March 17, 1905, after which he went to attend a St. Patrick’s Day parade, taking about a third of the guests with him.
Q: Did Eleanor like Hyde Park?
A: Springwood was still her mother-in-law Sara’s home. And Franklin was very devoted to his mother. She preferred her own place, Val Kill, a couple miles away.
Q: Franklin had an affair with Lucy Mercer, and Eleanor offered Franklin a divorce. Why didn’t they split?
A: From here: “Sara… said that if he left his wife she would cut him off without a cent. Louis Howe, Franklin’s trusted adviser, said that a divorce would mean the end of his political career. So Franklin agreed to stay in the marriage under two conditions set down by Eleanor: he had to break off with Lucy Mercer immediately and for good, and he could never again share his wife’s bed. Franklin observed the second part of the agreement. How long he kept the first has been a matter of some scholarly debate.”
Q: When did FDR develop polio?
From here: “In 1921, when he was 39 years of age, [FDR] contracted an illness…. The symptoms gradually resolved except for paralysis of the lower extremities. The diagnosis at the onset of the illness and thereafter was paralytic poliomyelitis. Yet his age and many features of the illness are more consistent with a diagnosis of Guillain–Barre´ syndrome, an autoimmune polyneuritis.”
Q: How did he able to hide his ailment?
A: When he had to stand, he would, literally, lean on his son. He used leg braces to try to strengthen his legs. But mostly, he hid the fact that he could not walk, with collusion by politicians and the news media. It was said that his affliction made him a much more compassionate man.

Learn more about FDR HERE and HERE, among other places.

ABC Wednesday – Round 11

The Vacation in Newport

He says, “My name is Peter.” I say, “Hi, Peter. Would you like me to call 9-1-1 for you?”

I recently mentioned visiting the mansions in Newport, Rhode Island, but not much else. It was school vacation week, and the Wife suggested that we could go to a timeshare of my parents-in-law there. The Wife, the Daughter, and I had been to visit a friend of mine in another part of the state some five years earlier, and we briefly visited Newport as well.

What she didn’t tell me until the morning we were leaving was that her brother, his wife, and their twin 11-year-old daughters were ALSO going on the trip, staying at a different resort. Not that I minded; I just didn’t know.

We got to Newport in reasonably short order. As you enter the city, the first major street is called Farewell Street. Can you guess what dominates the road?

That’s right, a cemetery; someone with a grim sense of humor. Then we found the wrong part of Thames Street. The street, BTW, is pronounced as though it rhymes with ‘tames’, not like the river in England. The part of Thames we lived on was very narrow, streets like one might find in older parts of Europe. We eventually found our way, via a street called America’s Cup. But it took a while because of the number of one-way streets.

This explains why we saw at least four of the scooters pictured here. We also saw EIGHT Segways in a row; I’d never seen more than two at a time.

On the second night, I was awakened at 12:34 a.m. by someone clearly trying the electronic key in the door at least a half dozen times; my wife, a much more sound sleeper, was oblivious to this. I looked out the peephole, and I see some guy in an orange jumpsuit – not prison garb, just loud colors – lying on the floor. I open the door tentatively, and he slowly staggers to his feet; even from a distance, I could tell he’s been drinking.

He sees me and says, “Is this your room?” I reply, “Yes. Would you like me to call 9-1-1 for you?” He says, “My name is Peter.” I say, “Hi, Peter. Would you like me to call 9-1-1 for you?” He says, “Nah. I must be in the next room.” I had the sense if I hadn’t spoken to him, he might have slept there all night since the resort desk was closed from 11 p.m. to 7 a.m. I went back to sleep, but my wife, overhearing my conversation with Peter, was awake for the next several hours.

The great thing about the in-laws on the trip was that we were only about five minutes away from each other, by foot. One night, they watched The Daughter so that The Wife and I could go out to dinner. Another night, we watched the girls while their parents went out. And the final night, we made dinner together, at their place, since they had an oven (we had just a stovetop and a microwave). Their place also had a swimming pool, so the girls all swam together thrice. We also played a card game called Apples to Apples Junior, which was great fun. And we went to three mansions together, which made it easier for the grownups to switch off watching the three girls.

Of course, the worst part of vacation is coming back. This was literally true; we spent an hour stuck on the Berkshire spur portion of I-90, evidently as a result of an auto accident up ahead. But the vehicle looked awful, and sitting on an interstate is not the worst outcome at the end of a trip.

The Lydster, Part 91: So Close

One could only get up to the loft by using a 10-foot ladder. And it wasn’t a straight ladder designed to get up to such a place; it was an A-framed ladder, the instructions – or more correctly, the WARNING – for which SPECIFICALLY states that it should NOT be used as a straight ladder.

I have very little recollection of being in hotels or motels with my parents growing up. When we weren’t at home, we either tended to stay at friends’ or relatives’ homes, or in a tent on our regular camping trips. Did I ever mention that I HATED our camping trips?

My wife and I, though, have been on a number of trips in hotels and motels with Lydia. When she was a baby or a toddler, it was easy enough to get her to go to bed, and we could stay up watching TV or reading. Not so with a seven-year-old, or at least our seven-year-old. She wouldn’t go to bed until we went to bed; it was partly the light bothering her, she said, but it was more her not wanting to be left out of anything.

So for 10 days – two in Niagara Falls, four in Toronto, two in Peterborough, and two in Canton – the three of us shared a room where the parents went to bed a little earlier than they might have been inclined to do so otherwise.

When we got to the cabin in the Adirondacks, Lydia, and eventually her cousins, got to sleep in a place of their own, up on this loft. You would think this would have made me happy, and it would have, but for one tiny detail: one could only get up there by using a 10- or 12-foot ladder. And it wasn’t a straight ladder designed to get up to such a place; it was an A-framed ladder, the instructions – or more correctly, the WARNING – for which SPECIFICALLY states that it should NOT be used as a straight ladder. Going up was fine, but I was afraid that she might fall if she had to climb down going to the loo in the middle of the night.

I went to bed in a room with my wife. But I woke up in the middle of the night, and half-slept in a cot just below the ladder. In the end, she was fine. Her cousins, who showed up a couple of nights later, were fine, though I was glad to be available to hold the ladder for them early in their first morning. And, finally, on the last night there, I actually slept the whole night through, quite possibly out of sheer exhaustion.