Yet another weblog by Thom Forbes, this one with no boundaries — like recovery, animals, obituaries, poker, softball, Hastings trailways or prostate cancer — and no fear of the occasional flummadiddle.
Deirdre and I had a great day kayaking on the Hudson and catching up with Bob Bearnot and Sherry Katz Bearnot Sunday during Mountain Valley Guides Little Stony Point trip out of Cornwall.
Yesterday was as near a perfect Father’s Day as I can imagine: two games of softball in the morning sunshine, a hike with Deirdre, Carrick, Duncan and Lili Simone along the Hudson in Manhattan in the afternoon, and then dinner together in the backyard patio in Hastings for the first time in more than a decade, I think. Duncan grilled the chicken and made a pasta dish, Carrick made a great salad, Deirdre made some wild rice and Lili Simone made us all laugh, as is her wont.
As I wrote about this morning, the Weather Channel and the tabloids are calling it Nemo. Whatever your feelings about the matter, it's beginning to look like the hype might just live up to its advance notice, as it did with Sandy. In any event, I visited my favorite haunts down by the river a couple of hours ago and, sure as ducks quack, I’ll be back tomorrow (barring something unforeseen, such as throwing out my back while shoveling).
It's the day after The Great American Smokeout. In my experience, Day Twos are always more difficult that Day Ones, and so I offer this bit of experential encouragement for anyone out there who is mired in the struggle. I just happened upon the blog post below this morning as I searched my computer for anything that would give me the year that I got lost in Baxter State Park. But that's a story for another story…
I initially wrote the piece for my "Elephant on Main Street" blog sometime in 2005. …
Out and about in the neighborhood with my Canon Sure Shot (#5) and Deirdre's Nikon D300s over the last couple of days, with a few pictures from the past for perspective.
With amiable companions—Kerry-Jane King, Stuart Cadenhead and Peter Swiderski—Deirdre and I hiked a section of the Palisades yesterday that is directly across the Hudson River from our home.
In the process, we crossed a field of boulders that had peeled off the cliff one Saturday evening in May with an ominous and mysterious grumble. Stu Cadenhead aptly dubbed it The Crumble. An article in The Record calls it a "a 10,000-ton pile of rubble and dust."
The Hudson is about a mile wide at Hastings. …
Last Saturday morning around this time while driving to my usual Saturday racquetball game, I started thinking about where we were 22 years before to the day. Deirdre, Carrick and I were in Bogota, where we'd met Duncan for the first time a few days before at CRAN (Foundation Center for Reintegration and Child Care), and now we were now all celebrating his first birthday in an apartment owned by our lovely and extraordinary Colombian facilitator, Clara Toro, where we were staying. As I drove up Saw Mill River Road, I felt tears streaming down my face as I considered our good fortune with our two children, and now our grandchild.
It was Duncan's 23rd birthday yesterday but by the time I returned from racquetball he was in the city for the parade. We'll catch up for dinner at Harvest on Hudson Monday evening. Meanwhile, we're enjoying the lake.
Bruce, Paco, Oliver and I took a 6.7-mile hike around the perimeter of Blue Mountain Reserve in Peekskill on an unseasonably warm day Monday. The Westchester park is known as one of the premier mountain biking areas in the region but we only saw one cyclist on this weekday morning jaunt.
So what exactly do we do as we trek through the woods? Well, if we were expending any money, it would certainly be as legitimately deductible as a lunch at the Four Seasons, I submit, and offer this video as proof…
Bronx Zoo, of course. The ladies had to work the day after Thanksgiving, and Lili Simone's day care provider, Lynda, took the day off. I decided to call upon our four-legged friends to help me keep LS entertained; she was, perhaps, even more taken by the hordes of people milling about on a very nice, late autumn day. I do know this: It is a day I shall never forget.
I can't resist a morning walk around town, and a hot chai at The Station Cafe, after a snowfall like last night's. It had stopped when I got up at 5:15 but I figure about 8 - 10 inches fell on top of yesterday morning's storm. All these shots were taken in Fulton Park, a.k.a The Library Park, on Maple Ave.
I would have loved to have shot the sunrise bouncing off the Palisades this morning but I was on a deadline as the day crawled in. After I'd dug Deirdre out of the driveway and shoveled the sidewalk, however, I headed down to my favorite haunts on the river. Only one set of footprints had preceded me in into MacEachron Park about 8:30. It was glorious, as it always is, whether it's pack with people or there's nothing but light and wind.
Prompted to upgrade my Facebook profile this morning, I did so, and found myself in a section that asked things like what sports I played, what teams I followed, and who my heroes are. I filled out what I played and skipped the rest, except for heroes. There's really only one. Harmon Killebrew.
How a boy living in the Bronx got so enamored of an Idaho farm boy playing for the Washington Senators and Minnesota Twins is no doubt an essay in itself. But I was very sorry to see this story about Harmon's esophageal cancer…
The bad news: Cortland failed to advance in the regional club rugby playoffs after beating RPI last week to take the Division II New York State Championship. The good news: No need to travel to Bowdoin, Somewhere, Maine, USA, for the next round.
Cortland came back from a 15 - 5 deficit in the waning minutes of the game but failed on a very tough conversion that would have given them a one-point victory instead of a one-point defeat. It was an incredible year -- a 9 - 1 record for a team that was coached entirely by students this season.
Forbes to Jumanji
Preparing to Engage
You Can't Do This in Soccer
Okay, it's not Cousy to Russell, Magic to Kareem, Frazier to Reed, West to Chamberlain, Parker to Duncan, MJ to MJ or, as the ageless Robert "Solid" Gold would have it, Gold to Roth. But Forbes to Jumanji has a nice ring to it, no?
Keep your eye on No. 8, Duncan Forbes (left and in larger format here), as he picks up a loose ball, deviously sprawls to the ground and squirts it out to Jumanji, who scores en route to Cortland's 50 - 9 thrashing of the Le Moyne Koonducks (you can't make this stuff up) last Saturday.
Right Here, Right Now
Geese and Goslings; Tug and Barge
An express train
raced through today
with the names
of dead luminaries
painted on the sides
of its passenger cars.
was hitched to
It's not that nothing has happened since my last post in January. I did earn my certification as a personal trainer from NASM. I am in the process of building Recovering Your Body as a website, a business with a mission (or is it a mission as a business?), and a column for a new magazine for people in recovery, Renew. I am talking with some extraordinary people — partners and colleagues and people who are just helping me out — in the process of doing so. I'll be writing more about all this as things develop over the summer. …