June 5 to 8—Walker Farm, Cooperstown, NY
Nothing has made me aware of how long I have been kicking around as returning to this place where I spent part of my 15th summer, my cousin (my mother’s sister’s daughter) Carol’s dairy farm. I had a great time as a kid working (hard) for Merk and exploring the area. It is a 280 acre spread at the top of a mountain, 2,000 feet in elevation. Hidden in the valley below is Lake Otsego and just a few miles north is the upper edge of the Chesapeake Bay watershed. Strange, though, for me, to come to a place where almost half-a-century has passed since I last visited. Whole buildings have been built and demolished in the intervening period. A neighboring farmer that I helped with a hay harvest (hardest worker I ever did) has passed away as has his son.
We had a fantastic stay here—a beautiful site and every minute with Carol and Merk was a pleasure. They don’t raise cows anymore but farm hay. For every house being restored between here in Cooperstown there is one for sale. For every barn that is in use as a barn there are three in disprepair. But it is idyllic country—plentiful wildflowers and wildlife along rolling roads that go through fields greener even than those of southern Maryland and perfectly-formed trees like larch and birch. During my summer internship here in 1969 Merk and I had strong differences of opinion about the state of the nation—vietnam war, civil rights, etc. We are still at opposite ends of the political spectrum but manage to enjoy our differences and find some common ground. I had spent time en-route to the farm crafting a gag line for him and couldn’t wait to deliver it: “You know, Merk, they say people grow more conservative as they grow older and I guess it’s true cause I find myself starting to like Bernie Sanders.”
Sad to leave. We had visited the Fenimore House art museum during our stay, hiked the roads and fields, brunched at the luxurious Hotel Otesaga. Our future campsites will have a hard time meeting the standard set by my dear cousins.
