Hyde Park

July 21, 2009.

Hyde Park.

Sandy and I leave for our long anticipated Niagara Falls vacation on July 21, 2009. As always, small crises loom in the horizon! It is Tuesday and therefore garbage pickup day, and we anguish about whether we should stay long enough to bring the recycling bin back home before leaving. They usually pick up the recycling material relatively early in the day, but when we check around 10 AM, it still hasn't been emptied out. We are in a dither and fervently hope that it gets done soon. The intensity of our concern is out of proportion to the reality of the stimulus. Luckily for our mental health, it does get emptied by 11, and thankfully we bring the container back up to our garage and head out by noon as we had hoped.

It is, of course, raining. This is been the story of the summer of 2009. We are not to know this yet for another week or so, but it turns out that the combined rainfall in June and July of 2009 is about 18 inches, making them the most rainy June/July on record. I don't particularly enjoy driving in the pouring rain, but compulsive as I always am, I have set myself the task of getting to Hyde Park by 2 or so and this is not a task that I'm willing to forgo.

We do in fact reach Hyde Park by 2 and check in to our Bed and Breakfast. We have decided to split our lodgings half-and-half between traditional hotels and B&B's. By the time we get to Le Petite Château in Hyde Park it is pouring so hard that we have no clear inkling of the setting. The next day, just before we check out, it would clear just enough for us to see that it is beautifully set on a man-made lake.

We are greeted by Eric, the resident chef who is a recent graduate of the Culinary Institute of America. Philistine that I am, I had never before heard of the Culinary Institute of America and did not realize that this is an institution of considerable renown. Just before we leave, Judge Evelyn Daley, the probate judge in Farmington, had told us that we needed to reserve seating at one of the restaurants at the Institute a month or so ahead if we had any hope of dining there. As it turns out, the Institute is closed for renovations through the month of July and we would not have had a chance to eat there in any case. But we do get a taste of its potential, since Eric turns out to be a spectacular cook. When we arrive, we have some homemade cookies and cheese crackers that are absolutely delicious. The next day, for breakfast, he makes the best grits (with black pepper and cheese) we have ever had. The main course for breakfast is a breakfast burrito. Now, I have had breakfast burritos in many Mexican restaurants. Maybe this is an unfair thing to say, but I've come to the conclusion that Mexican food is not the most sophisticated in the world. At least the version that is available in the United States is almost unbearably heavy on the melted cheese that sits like a slab of lard on almost all the dishes, threatening to clog the coronary and carotid arteries of anyone who dares to consume it. Add to that the tomato sauce the drenches and overpowers most dishes, I for one am left with a heart-felt desire for antacids after a meal in a Mexican restaurant. Eric's breakfast burrito was to be standard Tex- Mex restaurant's version is as Itzak Perlman to a four year old learning to play the violin. It was delicate, almost fluffy, with just a hint of sun-dried tomatoes and none of the slabs of congealed melted cheese that alarm me so much. It was the best breakfast we were to have through our vacation.

We headed out after checking in to our first destination in Hyde Park, Franklin Delano Roosevelt's home. The first thing we did was to buy something called the Interagency Pass for Senior Citizens. This is a one-time ticket costing $10 that allows us free access to all historic properties owned by the National Parks Service. Sandy and I are delighted by this, because nothing makes us more happy than the sense that we are getting something for nothing!

We go on a guided tour through the mansion. It pours relentlessly and my rain-slicker that barely reaches my knee acts as a conduit for the water pouring down on the rest of my body onto my pants at mid-thigh. I am soaked through and through by the time we finish. We decided to go back to the B&B to dry off a little bit before going elsewhere. Eric is extremely helpful and allows me to use the dryer in the kitchen.

We head off to the Eleanor Roosevelt cottage. Thanks to our Interagency Pass, we have free admission. Now, I have some vague knowledge of Eleanor Roosevelt, some awareness that she is a liberal icon. But to be honest, this knowledge is more received wisdom than any first-hand awareness of what she actually accomplished. This visit to her cottage leaves me stunned at the range of her activities, the consistency of her progressive views at a time when women were probably meant more to be seen than heard, and her unflinching bravery. I am deeply impressed and humbled. I cannot help but feel that more people, at least more Americans, should be forced to come here and confront what is possible for a human being to accomplish in one's life, in a noble and disinterested fashion. More than anything else, I am touched by the simplicity of her dwelling -- here is a woman who could have afforded something much larger and more ostentatious but chose to spend most of her widowhood in a small relatively modest residence. I am intrigued that her best friends through this part of her life were a couple women who appear to have been lesbians, even though this goes unstated through all of the material that is presented at the cottage.

We have to scrounge around for dinner. The Culinary Institute of America is out of the question because it is closed. We ask Eric for some suggestions, and he tells us that there is a restaurant called Twist in a neighboring village also run by a graduate of the Institute. We drive over and find a very crowded, tiny place that looks quite unpretentious. The food that we get is delicious and sophisticated. We are getting an interesting impression of the Institute.

After that delicious breakfast that I mentioned before, we had off to our final planned destination at Hyde Park -- the Vanderbilt mansion. We are impressed even before we see the building. The grounds are extensive, lush, beautifully maintained. The acres and acres of rolling beautifully manicured lawns are broken up tastefully by clumps of strategically positioned trees. When we drive through the seemingly interminable approach and finally catch a glimpse of the mansion, is a breathtaking experience. It is set on a hilltop that overlooks the Hudson River, and across the river from the Palisades. The view is stunning. As with the Eleanor Roosevelt house, admission to the Vanderbilt mansion is free thanks to the Interagency Pass. Everything about the house inside is emblematic of the roaring 20s. This seems to be a case of opulence for the sake of opulence, rooms and rooms and rooms over decorated, overstuffed, almost stultifyingly so. The contrast between ostentation of the Vanderbilt mansion and the spare, understated simplicity of Eleanor Roosevelt's house is poignant. The main entrance alone has enough floor space to house a modest apartment. There are marble staircases sweeping grandly to the first floor, from which one can look down, over marble balustrades, on to the foyer. There are sculptures and paintings galore and antique furniture to fill many shops. The basement level has a spectacular, spacious kitchen and myriad rooms for servants. After the tour of the house, we wander around the acres and acres of gardens around the house. Apparently, there were eight greenhouses during the heyday. None of them is now operational, and most have been torn down. There is, however, still a large flower garden maintained by volunteers from the local community. It is about the size of many public gardens in medium-sized cities.

The entire experience is a little overwhelming. Someone once said, behind every great fortune lies a great crime. I don't know enough about the Vanderbilt's to know what great crime lay behind that great fortune, but I am torn between envy for someone who could generate so much wealth that he could build and maintain something as lavish and grand as this and at the same time the sense that this is all really, in the ultimate analysis, needless.

It is mid-day and we head off for Saratoga Springs, the next stop on our vacation.