Trip Down Memory Lane(s)...

Small creekbed in Byrdcliffe

Sunday was our 35th Wedding Anniversary. Jim and I decided to start our day at one of our favorite breakfast places Dolce in downtown Kingston.

Then we headed up to the Byrdcliffe Art Colony in Woodstock. We walked through the trails amidst many of the old artist studios, theater and barn. It was an interesting part of history. However the brochure was a tad misleading as all the "studios" or "houses" are now owned by private citizens with very unwelcoming signage that detracted from the experience.

From there we drove over the mountain to Mt. Tremper and then on to West Shokan where I grew up. We went to check out my old homestead. My brother Rick bought the house from the rest of us last year and is making some improvements.

He's had a new deck built and cut down some of the old pine trees that were dying from blight and he put in some new plantings and trimmed a few trees.

I was driving so I took on a little tour of my old hang outs. We drove up Moonhaw Road to our old swimming hole, Red Rocks. The dam has washed away and with no one to rebuild it the water isn't creating the deep 'hole' we used to swim in. The rocks we used to sunbathe and dry ourselves on have been overtaken by the shrubs, but it's still a beautiful place.

Red Rocks

Falls above Red Rocks

We drove up a little bit farther to see several places my dad used to maintain for the NYC "Summer People" when I was a kid. My favorite was a place called, "Lily of the Valley" probably for the tons of those particular flowers that grew there. When our son Bryan was a young boy, I took him there to fish. The pond was heavily stocked and as soon as we put our line in we caught one. I really wanted him to experience the actual "catching" of a fish and boy did we. The experience took all of 15 minutes. I think it took me that long to put the poor worm on the hook! But he was so excited to catch a fish. For years after that we fished all over NY and never caught a 'keeper' like that day!

As we drove back down Moonhaw, I reminisced about the various "neighbors" that I had visited as a kid. The Brockingtons became good friends of ours after I had moved from home and they helped keep my mom busy with caring for their home in her later years. It was their way of giving her extra spending money and a reason to have her stop by so they could make sure she was doing okay. The Jamesons lived across the road from Red Rocks and I remember the son who was my age and an older sister. They swam with us a few times, but they weren't around during the cooler months. Raymond Bell was a good friend of my dad's, little did I know I would eventually marry into their family -- though distant cousins, we are related.

Lily of the Valley

The Hydes moved in during our later years and I believe were related to Charlie North who lived down the road from them. Charlie was unique in that he was an elderly man who offered us kids a drink of water as we tromped back and forth from swimming. We loved to watch him pump the artisan well and fill a pot, then ladle out the water in aluminum cups that sweated in the heat. No water has ever tasted as good as Charlie's water.

At one point Moonhaw meets Druykill (Dry Brook Road) -- this name never made sense to me because Dry Brook never ever went dry -- and Manitou house is on the corner. Manitou house had quite a history. It was an inn and restaurant when I was a little. My sister Lynn used to waitress there and possibly did chambermaid work. I remember one year my mom left us in the care of my dad while she went to visit her sister in Michigan. I was probably in my early teen years and tried my hand at cooking dinner for my dad and my younger brother. I seem to remember tasting my boiled potatoes -- a favorite of my dad's -- and finding them a tad salty. My dad was said the meal was soooo good that he thought the chef deserved the next day off and he took us to Manitou House for dinner once if not two or three times the week mom was gone. Gotta love my dad.

Molloy's Chicken Coop Apt.

Across from Manitou is the Molloys property, where deer ate the apples under their multiple trees and kids gathered to play basketball and baseball. It's also where I worked one of my first cleaning jobs for their grandmother in her house in the converted chicken coop!

We continue down Moohaw as I relayed to Jim where the Hesleys and Finkens, the Burghers, Grovers, Reitmeiers, Maugs and Monacos and Wilsons all lived. The famous bus stop...."I walked all the way from my house to here to catch the bus!"

Then we headed down past flat rock, split rock, the Steens house, Asam's Hill (great for sledding.) The old Schneider home that had flooded in "the '57 flood." The Johansens, then Scanlans, and the new "Private Road" where Carol Robin works and lives. Finally to Donovans where one of my earliest memories of being at a Christmas party was at their house. From there my brother Jim's friends the Fugels lived but I am not sure which house. From there on we drive up Peekamoose Mountain Road. My little Ford Focus strains to climb the steep hills and I recall Ann Roser and I making the daring attempt to ride our bikes up this mountain! We did make to the lake at the top. The ride back down was terrifying!

On our way we pass the "Ice Box" an opening to an underground cave where there is ice almost all summer. We can't stop because we have two cars behind us and no place to pull over. We make it to the top and once again drive along the edge of the lake and property of the Packs. Jim's dad used to work on their vehicles. Jim remembers the barn with the equipment to maintain their personal ski lifts on the mountain. It's just after the 'caretakers cottage' a pretty nice house at the end of the lake.

At this point, I remember the strange phenomenon that happens at this point on the mountain. When we started to see the lake it was flowing down the east side of the mountain. Now as we pass the house and the bridge over the creek on the other side of the lake the water flows down the west side. How come the lake NEVER empties? I always wondered how this was to be.

Soon we are driving down the other side and we start to see the falls on the right side of the road. We stop and climb the first one and take a few photos. Then we climb back in the car and go on until we come to another falls, this one larger than the other, but so many people clogging up the lot and both sides of the road we drive on vowing to come back another time.

We search for the Blue Hole and see many areas we thought was it but so much has changed with the flooding over the years, we are not sure if any of the camping areas along the creek are there anymore. Farther down the road, where the creek meanders on the right side of the road, we see sign for NY State campgrounds. These are the "official" camping areas that the locals rarely stay at.

We drive on and come out once again at the Rondout Reservoir. We were here early last spring and today we drive down the other side. Amazing construction similar to our own Ashokan Reservoir. Both were built to maintain water for all the people in NYC. These reservoirs were surrounded by giant pine trees that have been there for years. But this year with the blight and the pine beetles the trees are dying faster than they can be replaced. It will be interesting to see what happens in the next 3-5 years.

After driving down Route 55 to Ellenville we seek out the restaurant we plan to eat our dinner at. Aroma Thyme is a new found eclectic place with "The Chef on a Mission" Marcus Guiliano. I have been reading/listening to his blogs over the past few months and he sent us a coupon for our anniversary. Check out his blog(s), he really has some great healthful information there.

We did have some time to kill so I took us up on Route 52 which climbs the mountain on the east side of Ellenville and stopped at several overlooks. It was a beautiful sight to look down on the old Nevele hotel and the valley.

We headed on in search of a little country store I discovered while on a work assignment. Alas we never found the store but ended up in Gardiner. By then we had enough time to make it back to Aroma Thyme for our dinner.

I had the shrimp curry and Jim had the chicken breast with vegetables. Everything from the bread, bean dip, cheese plate, dinners were all natural or organic and mostly from our neck of the woods. What a nice change to know someone cares about your food like you do.


As Chef Marcus states on his blog,"don't come to my restaurant if you want a cheap meal. I buy the best and healthiest ingredients to give you the best!" That was evident. The meals were delicious and I really expected them to be on the smaller portion size side. They were not...I brought home plenty for lunch the next day.




A great way to celebrate 35 years of marriage...only wish the kids could have been here.

Peaceful Places

 In every issue of Oprah's monthly magazine are two pages she labels "Breathing Space". These are photographs of scenic places. When you look at them they make you want to fall back onto your fluffy pillows and say "Aaah..." and relax. Someone suggested long ago that she make the pages a tear-out so we could put them in an area where we would be more inclined to recline and look at them. She never took up the suggestion. Dumb mistake.

Looking up Dry Brook that ran along our property.

 In my years growing up in West Shokan, we were lucky enough to have several "breathing spaces." One was a stream running along the property. On many occasions, I would go down to the creek to play. In my later years whether I was 10, 15 or 18, I would climb down on those rocks and let my cares be washed away with the water as it ran downstream.

The foundation of the barn is barely visible in this photo.

 We lived on a old farm that had a large two-story farmhouse and three barns. The largest barn housed our cows, sheep, goats, a bull and chickens at one time or another. Eventually it started to collapse, so someone from town helped my dad take it down. We were left with the foundation of the barn and the round silo platform. When we were little, my brother, Rick, and I would play here and pretend that foundation was our home, our land, our church, or our battleground. All that was there was cement with ruts, where I guess walls had been, and troughs where the milk cans were kept in cold storage. It is amazing when I think back on what we created out of that old cement remnant and how it became a breathing space of sorts where we could practice life.

Looking down Dry Brook Road toward South Mountain

We walked roughly a quarter mile to and from the bus stop everyday during the school year and this was our view in winter. We had plenty of time to think as we walked. The first segment going to school we walked alone. Then we met up with the Molloys and Burghers and Finkens to head down to Monaco's at the end of Moonhaw. Here we would wait to catch the bus. Rarely did we get rides unless it was raining or frigid. But I do remember plenty of times having frozen feet before I made it home. Those walks were priceless times of thought.

One other space of respite you can't see here, is up on the mountain side where I would lie down on my back and watch the clouds sail by. It was there I planned my wedding, dreamed of my family, and planned for the future.

The quiet peacefulness was all around us whether we appreciated it or not. These were our own private breathing spaces. Spaces in time, space away from everyone else, spaces to think, create and dream. My hope is that the generation growing up today has their own breathing spaces, because that's where a lot of creative ideas bloom and problems are worked out. I guess I took for granted the breathing spaces I had growing up. I crave and appreciate the ones I have now even if I have to create them myself as I learned from reading the book, Simple Abundance. I recommend it!

(Photos courtesy of Shep Siegel.)

Friends from West Shokan past....

A childhood friend, Debbie Burgher, posted an old picture from the 70's (that's 1970) of her brother on Facebook. What memories were stirred as I perused the photos that were attached.

I grew up with the Burghers, my siblings even babysat some of them. As I went through the photos, I discovered some of my own family, other friends and places I had been to in my youth. It was very weird to see my memories through someone's eyes other than my own.

Mathew

This picture of Mathew is a typical one. Burgher's always had dogs. One great dog they had while we were young, was a German Shepherd named 'Shep'. Shep was very protective of all of the kids, but he was especially protective of the Burgher kids. Shep's only 'flaw' was that he chased cars. That too was probably a way of protecting us.
 

Eddie

The Burghers were an active family of five kids and Bob, the Surveyor (dad), and Rosie, the Reader (mom). Everyone loved Rosie, she was always smiling and chuckling. To say she loved to read is an understatement. Books were everywhere in their house, on their tables, the back of the couch, under her arm or in a bag. Rosie wore a path to the local library.

Debbie was their eldest daughter, Eddie their eldest son. Debbie and Eddie were older by enough years that I looked up to them and respected them when they were around, but they weren't around much because they were mostly away at college. They were instrumental in organizing our summer outings as they were our 'chauffers'. They also took on the role of protectors for all of us. I remember one particular outing to my first play. It was Fiddler on the Roof at the Woodstock Playhouse. I will always be grateful to Debbie for including me.

Patty

The siblings next in line were Patty, Mathew and Andy. Patty was a couple years older than me and had great hair and a beautiful smile. She was always fair and inclusive. She took on the role of "mom" in a good way for the group. She'd yell at her brothers when they picked on others or would run to the aid of the underdog. The Mullers always knew she would grow up to be a great mom.

Mathew, was the tease. He probably was also the closest to being the bully of the town. He just liked to control what he could -- like all the boys who were younger than him. I remember him commanding my brother, his brother, and the Molloy boys to line up and "march" in military fashion to the bus stop. Then he would line them up in the order he thought appropriate to get on the bus. Of course he always stepped in front of the line before the bus stopped so he would get on first.

Shep

I do remember in later years, one new kid that was kinda "Woodstocky" (he had long hair) who refused to follow Mathew's commands. Shep (odd coincidence he had the same name as the dog), though being the shortest of all the boys, always stood up to Mathew. Mathew seemed in a quandary as to what to do with him. Once he may have tried to "command" his army of boys to beat him up, because I do remember some chasing going on, but Shep never let himself be bullied by Mathew, that I can remember. Many times Shep walked home alone, because the other boys were too frightened to befriend him and go against Mathew. Shep was also brilliant and articulate - kind of nerdie to us country folk. I don't think the other boys quite knew what to make of him. He could often be seen with a camera in his hand, which also made him different from us. In later years all the boys seemed to become good friends. He and my brother, Rick, still maintain a friendship. (BTW, Shep's photos are posted throughout this blog.)

Andy

Another title for Mathew Burgher, was that he was the local heartthrob. I don't know any girl that didn't "love" Mathew for a part of her life. He hooked up with Sue Henderson either late in high school or after and they had three beautiful boys together. The last I saw him he still was a tease but I don't think he commands anyone anymore.

Andy, the youngest of the Burgher brood, was just a cute little kid. Very shy and to himself, he was always quietly smiling and observing.


Growing up in a small town, the kids got to know each other well. Boys and girls usually played together in the early years. Then we divided into groups of boys and girls. Upon entering High School, we all made new friends, but would come together in the summer time for special outings. We would go to the county fair, camping, tubing on the Esopus or catch a play in Woodstock. Our age differences didn't seem to matter. The older naturally watched out for the younger. Many of the families were related, but that didn't cause a problem either. It was like we were all one HUGE family. Fathers and mothers from different families had no problem correcting those that were not theirs. Most of the time everyone respected each other. Though I do remember someone calling Mrs. Maug (Maugs were stern Germans with heavy accents) "Mrs. Maugie Daugie" because she sent her husband to yell at us for having a snowball fight in front of their home and leaving the snow in the road!

Kevin

Molloys were our closest year-round neighbors. West Shokan was also home to many NYC "summer people". Chris Molloy and I became friends because we were in the same Kindergarten class and that started a great friendship that went on for years. I will never forget his offer to come in and warm up after our trek from the bus stop. He had an older sister, MaryPat; and younger brothers Kevin and Terry and later, sister, Meghan, came along.
 
Their yard became our early playground along with Burghers' because they had so much open land. Burghers had play equipment and sheds and cabins to entertain us.

Before we had organized recreation activities and a park, we played basketball in Molloy's driveway. We always managed to pull together enough kids to play baseball behind the Molloy's chicken coop (it never had chickens in it as far as I can remember, only lots of newspapers) or we went swimming at one of the local swimming holes.

Ingrid

Ingrid Opsis was our unofficial lifeguard and swimming teacher. She became our official lifeguard, swim coach, and trainer once the town pool opened.

Patty & Cathy

As the years passed, West Shokan had some new families move into town. The Finkens, lived next door to the Burghers and had at least three girls. Kay, Mary and Clare. Clare and I became friends, but they must have moved in the later years of high school because I don't remember seeing them much. I ran into Mary at church in Poughkeepsie last year, she said Kay and Clare were in the New England area.

The Shields brought a bunch of girls of who we got to know -- Holly, Cathy and Patty.  Ann Roser and I had some great times at their houses (three!) in the small plot at the bottom of High Point Mountain Road.

Marjorie

The Hydes moved in up on Moonhaw Road. Marjorie and Jimmy. Marjorie was wild and a smoker. Jimmy was quiet and young.

The Giuliano's lived in Boiceville first and then moved to West Shokan. They were related to the Hendersons. Dino, the dad, was known for his sales pitches. Mary, Janette, Michael and Gina were great looking kids. I can only remember once getting together with a whole gang to go Trick or Treating all over West Shokan...kids today have no idea how to walk miles like we did for candy. The goal was to make it to DeSannas where a bowl of goodies awaited us on the front porch. That same year a man gave us wax bottles filled with juice and Janette was afraid it was alcohol, so she wouldn't let us younger kids drink it.

Ann Roser and her brother Chris lived down past the library. Ann and I became close friends and remained so through just about all our school years and early 20's. We try to stay in touch to this day. She, Susan and I were a pack in the elementary years. Karen Dunn occasionally joined us at Susan's. Susan was the only daughter of Bob and Jean and lived with her brothers Robert, Ricky and Jimmy. Many nights I ate dinner at their home or watched Captain Kangaroo on their t.v. on Saturday mornings. Susan's bedroom was the coolest with a closet that went through to another room. For some reason they only lived in the upstairs of their house while the basement was above ground on the first floor. That was always strange to me.

The Steens lived down the road from us too. Vanessa, Carl, Robert and Adam moved in sometime in the elementary years. One swimming hole was across the road from their house and a popular sledding hill was just behind it. We swam, skied, skated and hung out at their home in between. They had a porch too. The older homes had porches and many times we sat and talked on those porches.

So many people, I can't recall them all. People who touched my life in so many ways throughout my impressionable years. I am happy that so many had a positive impact on my life.


As we reconnect through Facebook and emails, it is astounding to me to hear from those who were just in West Shokan for a small period of time say how much they loved being there. Of course if you asked me in my teen years what we thought we would have said we couldn't wait to get out. Thirty minutes to shopping, jobs; at least 15 minutes to the high school (not stopping). And for a girl trying to get dates from boys she met in high school it was torturous, especially when they would ask "could you meet me....???" (and that was when gas was .59 a gallon!)

Local store & Post Office

Only a local store combined with the Post Office for treats, the paper or some cold cuts and ice cream was local hangout for some of us. The Town Park came later and brought outsiders in. Not that we didn't want them, but they sure diluted our friendship pool (no pun intended.)

I think most of us look back on our years in West Shokan with a passion for calmer, quieter, slower times. Many lessons were learned without electronic gadgets and even t.v. for some. Everyone watched out for each other; included each other; and no one was fearful (too much) of anything. It was a time of unlocked front doors and keys left in cars. Sure there were disagreements and hurt feelings and we had our share of social problems, but all in all we were a family inter-related through the situations we experienced together. It was a great place to grow up...not perfect, but great.

Photo Credit to Shep Siegel fo all the photos on this page.

Bridges and Brew

Crashing through the wooden bridge.

I have many memories of growing up in the house in West Shokan. I spent 18 years there before I moved out. I will share more of them in later blogs. However my older siblings and parents told stories for years of the exciting adventures of living in the country. Some of these were before Rick and I came along or were just too young at the time to know what was going on. One of those stories was of the oil truck that collapsed the bridge.

You see, there was a stream that separated Dry Brook Road from our driveway. When my family first moved in and for many years afterward (even I can remember this) the bridge was made of lumber. I think the only things supporting the planks were beams that connected the two sides (picture a ladder placed across the stream). I do seem to recall wooden beams under the bridge when we played in the stream.

I assume the bridge was originally made so crudely for the sole purpose of getting vehicles to the house and that was all the materials that were on hand and it worked, for a while. However, if I remember correctly, the oil deliveryman was leery of the bridge and didn't want to cross it, but someone convinced him to do it. Oil deliveries had been made many times before, so they knew it could be done. However, someone may not have taken into consideration how much oil was in each truck. Anyway the driver eventually was convinced. (Never doubt your instincts, people!) and he drove over the bridge. The picture tells the rest of the story.

Because the planks were placed on top of huge beams that connected the two banks of the stream. A loud noise was made every time you drove over the planks. This was a clue to us that we had company coming! This proved very handy when the Still was in operation.

The Still? You ask. Oh, I haven't told the story of how the biggest barn on the property was used as a distillery for, yes, you guessed it -- Moonshine! The Giuliano Family purchased the property and then rented it out to a group from NYC. These folks built a huge vat in the barn and had pipes running all through the property to run off the mash and operate the Still. In 1950, it was raided, the men arrested and the Still shut down. Click on the title above for the newspaper article. The story goes that a pilot working for the NYC Reservoir was patrolling the area for the security purposes when he noticed the roof on the barn had no snow on it. They sent officers to investigate and jackpot!

It made for a very exciting history of the house. In the house itself was a trap door to the basement. As kids Rick and I used to dream up stories of how the trap door was used. Once I learned of a second attic in the house, I used to wondered if there was hidden treasure up there. I also wondered if money was hidden in the ground somewhere on the property. Years later when I would put in gardens in various parts of the yard I would come across the pipes that were buried in the ground, but no treasures.

Across the creek I discovered an area where old bottles were dumped. It was fascinating finding all those bottles and wondering what they had held and who put them there. (Makes one wonder what future generations will think of all the garbage and appliances we have in land fills.)

Relatives of the Giuliano's still live in the area and shared a few more details of the Still with me. Thank you Florence! As stated above, I will share more on later blogs.