Continual Joy on National Holidays

For three years in a row, I spent my July 4th weekend in the Adirondacks. A friend’s family had a house there, with room for everyone and their dogs to roam around the grounds.

For fun, we hiked, swam in ponds, and watched the dogs sniff at things and chomp at mosquitoes. We drank many cups of coffee on the porch, staring out at the High Peaks, not wondering what the time was. Something about that view and the hiking I did there was part of why I moved west. I loved the mountains, and I wanted them in my life in a more casual way.

We went to the Ausable Club for fireworks, which opened its golf course to the public and put on a show. As could be expected from a country club in a mountainous vacation region, there was a certain Waspiness to the place. On the khakis of the teenage boys, there were embroidered lobsters. On the walls of the main hall, where guests were politely discouraged from using the restroom, there were antlers. Still, the club invited the whole town to run barefoot up and down the 14th hole of its golf course and play bocce ball on the putting green. It was a nice thing the club did, letting us all sneak in to enjoy a summer dusk on its golf course and then giving us fireworks. 

The last time I was there, I chatted with an older woman from Boston who said this had been her 23rd time at the fireworks. I wanted to have a number like that, proof of some joyful continuity in my life. I believe we left the conversation saying we would see each other next year.

Like New Year’s, July 4th is a day where you don’t need to be anywhere, but are still aware of where you end up. I didn’t see that woman the following year; I haven’t been to the Adirondacks since I moved to Colorado. This year, for the second July 4th in a row, I’ll be doing a 14er, which is a mountain above 14,000 feet in Colorado. I’d like to do a 14er next year, but I’m aware that July 4th is a holiday where traditions are easy to start and hard to maintain. Joyful continuity is a lot to ask for, and if I had to choose between the two, I’d pick joy.

Dateline: Sofia

Hey Team Internet,

So I’m in Bulgaria right now, visiting my BFF since middle school, exploring the city and drinking lots of fresh mineral water. This European interlude comes after a ten-day vacation in the Adirondacks, where I did a lot of hiking and eating of cheese.

There's a thing in the Adirondacks about doing all 46 peaks over 4000 feet. Last summer, I stayed at Johns Brook Lodge, a full service cabin 3.5 miles into the woods, to better approach the Saddleback and Basin peaks. There was this teenager who was also staying at the lodge and also doing Saddleback and Basin. Every time he reached the top, he would scream out the number of peaks he had done. So when he got to Saddleback, he yelled out  “37!" triumphantly only to get to Basin and do the same thing with the number 38. I did four High Peaks on this trip, and when I got to the top of each one, I yelled out my number ironically. I have a feeling this is the kind of joke which will get less ironic and more obnoxious over time. Other highlights of the trip included taking a nap on Hough and going trail running on my friend’s property with two unleashed dogs and then swimming in a pond with my running clothes on.

Coming back to New Rochelle, I had a brief bout of anxiety over all the travel (and I suppose glamour) my summer includes, but once I was on my way to Heathrow, I gave into the momentum of the plane and all of my summer plans. I slept the whole way on the second flight from London to Sofia, while the couple next to me was having a romantic meet cute. Now I’m a towel and about to go to a Roma neighborhood with my friend.

PS This computer doesn’t have a spell check, so no judgment.