Clinton

I arrived in this small town in upstate NY after an instructive hour-long ride with a local driver who was roughly the age and temperament of my older brother. We talked about politics (bad), the economy (worse), and education (terrible), as well as the aptitude of the people responsible for everything (disastrously poor). Along the way, we narrowly missed hitting one of the largest does I had personally ever seen. She was standing in shadow on the other lane of a two-lane highway, and only the quick reactions of the driver saved us from a messy and complicated interaction that the deer herself seemed to be interested in producing. When I told people about it subsequently, they explained that the area is heavily populated with deer, so that you often see them in or around your yard.

Poetry Slam
I had never been to a spoken word event before, and it was a lively and somehow cathartic experience. I have sometimes wondered if poetry is a dead art form, but it is alive and well with these young people, who were full of loud music, mutual encouragement, and charming conceits. Some people read their poems, some recited them from heart, and a few sang songs. At times I felt that I had been transported to a beatnik gathering from the 1950s, I think in part because to avoid applauding so loudly as to drown out the performer, the convention is to snap your fingers to make a sound like rain. Crying out encouragement or commentary was also not uncommon. One of my favourites was the single word “preach.”

A King-Sized Bed
I know it seems a somewhat trivial reason, but I generally avoid the bed and breakfast as though it were vexed, because I have never been in one where the picturesque and antique qualities that are so admired in the genre accommodate the fact that I am six foot two and two hundred pounds. I also do like a bit of sleep when I can get it, and I enjoy eating breakfast when I do manage to get up. Both are mitigated against in their various ways in the typical B&B, the one by the charming tiny beds, no bigger than your thumb, and the other by the tendency to serve breakfast between the hours of 6:15 and 6:17, after my hosts have been up and doing for hours, usually on the other side of the paper screen that serves as my bedroom wall. All of which to say that none of these restrictions applied to the B&B I stayed at in Clinton, where there was an unprecedented king-sized bed, a separate building containing my room, and breakfast at 9:30.