Not too long before the pandemic a friend and I traveled to New York City in mid August for a few days. I never experienced such oppressing heat in my life. All eight million residents swarmed around me wherever I went. It was like being dropped into a snake pit. It was a near fatal mistake which I vowed to never repeat. A few days later we rented a car and drove to the Catskills to stay at a friend's house in Calicoon Center, New York. The temperature dropped by maybe thirty degrees and the million of people diminished to a couple of dozen.
We had planned to stay four days in our friend from Key West's bungalow and then drive to Boston. However, upon arrival we discovered another woman friend of the owner had moved into the house along with her aged father. She apparently arrived first and then and called the owner to advise she popped into Callicoon Center and needed a place to stay. They had just completed a cross continent journey in their travel trailer staying with friends along the way. When she learned of our pending arrival she agreed to move back into the travel trailer until we left.
The bungalow was furnished like a vignette in a Ralph Lauren Home Furnishings store except the furniture and decor were purchased at yard sales and thrift stores. Everything was perfectly imperfect. I don't think we had television or air conditioning - not that we need either.
The owner's friend showed up at the house several times while we there. Each time on one pretext or another. I think she was making sure we were not taking in too much of the essence of the place. She would walk right inside without knocking to check on our well being. One morning she brought in a chair that was taking up too much space in the travel trailer. She said the chair once belonged to Debra Winger - they were friends in Arizona, I think. She felt sorry for Debra having to work with Ashton Kutcher in The Ranch. She (the vagabond friend) despised Ashton Kutcher. The chair fit right into the decorating scheme of mix-matched decor. This place was filled with little treasures that once belonged to other people. They, perhaps, found their final home in Callicoon Center across the street with no name overlooking a green field. This is how second homes should be furnished. Simply and cheaply and comfortably.
The morning of our second day was totally unlike the preceding
torrid days in the city. A light rain followed us as we drove the little
roads from town to town. We drove to Bethel Woods to see the Woodstock
site. It was the 47th Anniversary of Woodstock. We discussed the legend
of how the hippies made their way to this field out in middle of nowhere
and how crazy it must have been to be there. Other old and gray people
were taking selfies there that day. It made me smile and remember being
young. But I got over it. We left Calicoon Center a day ahead schedule.
Debra Winger's chair fit right into that house. Perfectly fit in.
