Life
Life moves faster than the leaves on my maple trees dance to the ground.
And I can't keep up.
Hence, no newsy posts today.
Hot Dog Shacks and Covid 2019: Weathering the Storm
When I was two years old, my parents moved from Cortland, NY, to Stony Creek, a tiny little town that literally dead ended into the Adirondack Mountains . This was a homecoming of sorts: Done with college and a brief career as a USAF officer, my dad was moving his little family back to the east coast, to the sprawling but tiny hamlet in upstate New York where his family had spent vacations when he was a teenager growing up in New Jersey. My parents arrived in Stony Creek with few possessions; they were mostly packed into an old, green Ford van. Actually, my boys would probably nickname any van like it the “pedo van”, meaning it probably looked like a van someone would use if they were kidnapping kids. I don’t really remember when or where we got the van or how long we had it. I also don’t remember how we came to live in a hot dog stand. Maybe this is the time to say that we didn’t truly live in a hot dog stand, but we did convert one into a little one room home...
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