Saratoga
I’m headed home to Upstate NY today, to meet some of my high school and college friends for our annual reunion in Saratoga. This year marks the 27th time in the last 28 years we’ve done it, 2020 being our only miss. Thanks a lot, COVID.
Here’s my old Substack post on the majesty of Saratoga.
It’s a very strange feeling being on Caroline Street at night now that I’m in my late 40s. Saratoga is very timeless place. The details change, but the basic contours and rhythms of the town really are no different than when I was 17. Sometimes when I’m back there, it’s hard to even perceive that any time has passed, much less a generation.
I have a very distinctive memory of playing foosball at Desperate Anne’s for beers late one night in the 90s when I was a teenager, and one of my middle-aged opponents telling me “I’ve got skid marks in my underwear older than you, kid.”
I’ve now been the middle-aged guy in that story, multiple times. Full circle. When it happened a few years ago, I glanced over at the bar and saw two guys in their late 60s smoking cigars and laughing. A new terrifying circle. Yikes.