Country Oasis

 

Our annual vacation took us from the hot streets of Brooklyn to our green oasis in the Catskill mountains. Our family rented a stone cabin in Fort Montgomery about ten miles south of West Point, New York.

We had no electricity or running water. Kerosene lanterns gave us light in the evening. Our drinking water came from a well and a rain barrel caught run off from the roof for washing. An outhouse sat about fifty feet from the cabin and chamber pots sat under each bed for night time emergencies.

The small front yard had a three-seat swing. I can still hear the creak of that metal swing on its hinges. 

             L to R Me, cousin Margie, mom Ann Fahey 

Mom cooked our meals on a wood burning stove. I remember I sat at the kitchen table, rolled newspaper and tied them into knots to augment the wood fire. A stove top toaster with four sides needed supervision or else the bread would burn black. Mom never wasted food. She used a butter knife to scrape the burnt areas and slathered peanut butter and jam on it to hide the scraped areas. We didn’t care\. Everything tasted better in the pristine mountain air.

Some of my best early memories center around summers in Fort Montgomery. I never felt at a loss for something to do. Although I had playmates, I enjoyed exploring on my own. I loved the surrounding woods and spent a lot of time alone in fantasy in the quiet of the forest. I got to know my way around pretty well and had a play area set up in a small clearing. I erected a teepee with scattered branches and put large stones around it for seats. I loved the smells and sounds. I loved the way the sunlight filtered through the trees and created patterns of light and dark across the ground. Fascinated by the woodland life, I marveled at all kinds of insects, salamanders, birds and an occasional snake. I once became frightened when I came upon a rattler - or it came upon me as I played. I heard the rattle before I saw the snake and beat it out of the woods fast.

Another time I found a small garden snake and wanted to keep it as a pet. I knew that I wouldn't be allowed to, so I hid it in my mother's teapot. When she went to make tea, the snake coiled out of the spout and sure gave her a fright.

 In retrospect, I realize that my penchant for being alone might be rooted in those happy childhood times. I've never felt lonely.

Yes, we didn’t enjoy modern conveniences and had to endure primitive accommodations but this was our country oasis from an otherwise sweltering city summer.

L to R Aunt Josie, cousin Eddie, cousin Delores, cousin Margie, Uncle Jack
Front kneeling, brother Andy, me in front of Uncle Jack
Rear: father Andrew Fahey

We Are One

 



As I drove along Orcutt Rd. in San Luis Obispo, I thought I saw a bundle of clothes in the gutter. When I got closer, I realized the clothing contained a person. I quickly parked my car and approached.

            “Are you all right?”

            She opened her eyes and nodded yes. Her brown, leathery face suggested many hours spent in the sun. Wisps of black hair mixed with gray peeked out from her wool cap. Surprisingly, for a homeless person, she wore a warm jacket and ski pants; her feet encased in running shoes. Silver and turquoise rings adorned her fingers.

            “Are you in pain?”

            She said “No.”

            I whipped out my cell phone and dialed 911.

            A crisp voice answered “911. What’s your emergency?”

            “There’s a person lying in the street.”

            “On Orcutt Rd?” the operator interrupted.

            “Yes.”

            “You’re the third call we received. The police have already checked her. She’s fine.”

            “She’s not fine. She’s lying in the street.” I insisted.

            “Ma’am, she’s fine.”

            “I can’t leave her here. I’m afraid she’ll get run over.”

            “I’ll send the police again” the operator assured me.

            I tried to coax the woman up so I could get her out of the gutter. She wouldn’t let me help her up..

            “I’m tired. I didn’t sleep last night,” she said.

            Another car stopped and a man came to the rescue. His strength got her to her feet and with the woman between us, we got her to the sidewalk. Her legs wobbled and we needed to hold her from falling. The man tried to get her to sit on some nearby bushes.

            “No!... dogs pee on that,” she said. Meanwhile urine ran down the legs of her trousers onto her shoes and sidewalk. She smelled dreadful.

            “Let’s get her to those steps,” I said and we half walked, half dragged her to some wide steps. The man plopped her down and left.

            “What’s your name?” I asked.

            “Gilly”

            “Do you have somewhere to go tonight, Gilly?”

            “No.”

            “The homeless shelter is less than a block away. I’ll take you there.”

            “I don’t want to go there.” She seemed adamant.

            “Why?”

            She mumbled something about “a hundred and twenty nine days probation.”

            “I don’t understand. What does that mean?”  She dismissed my question with a wave of her hand. I wondered what kept the police so long. They should have arrived by now.

            I felt helpless. I didn’t know what to do for this poor woman. All I could think of was prayer.

            “Gilly, will you pray with me?” A nod yes.

            So I took her hand and prayed aloud and promised her I’d continue to pray for her. She nodded. I had to leave her sitting on the step and it brought tears to my eyes. The police never came.
No Matter her condition, she's a fellow human being.

I am she and she is me. We are one.