Nothing’s Ever Really On Hold
In my younger and more philosophical years, I was caught up by one particular question that would not let go: “What is Time?” To find an answer, I took courses in philosophy. I read...
Author: John P. O'Grady
The Earle Farm
His name would have been forgotten by history, had not history shown up at his door. Moses Earle was a laconic farmer in the town of Andes, New York. He was born around 1781...
Following Stones
A long walk out old Barnum Road in East Jewett takes you nowhere in particular. It begins as a trail where the maintained town road ends but soon fades into little more than a...
Weeding the Woods
Paradise Hill. Late spring. Everywhere the garlic mustard “invasive.” I wander eye-entangled woods. Bend pluck toss. Every step is a step, lively. No way to eradicate this stuff—greed hate delusion—best hope “get it to...
Elevator Music
Yesterday we made an excursion to a museum in Saratoga Springs. They told us at the door, “We have no art today.” But isn’t this a museum? “Yes, but the exhibitions are being swapped...
The End of Broadway
Broadway is a famous street that begins at a famous address in lower Manhattan: One Broadway. George Washington’s headquarters once stood there. The End of Broadway is more obscure. It lies thirty-three miles to...
The Brief, Adventurous Life of Nelson J. Scribner
The literary remains of writer Nelson J. Scribner (1899-1926) are not extensive. His published work consists of one story—“The Luck of Lucky Joe”—which appeared posthumously in a pulp fiction magazine in 1927. Copies of...
On Catskill Creek
On certain days, Catskill Creek—when seen from Jefferson Heights above the village—seems to be flowing directly from the Delectable Mountains themselves. Or so it appeared to the artist Thomas Cole (1801-1848) when he first...
Boot Jack Rock
A rock is just a rock until its secret is known—or as they used to say in olden times, until its guardian spirit is teased out. The ancient Romans had a term for it—genius...
An Artist’s Privy
Cedar Grove was the home of Thomas Cole from 1836, when he married the proprietor’s niece, until 1848, when the artist unexpectedly died of a lung ailment. Of the original structures that adorned the...