A snow day. February 2017. Cold with a storm at large. Snow coming and it dropped a load on Fort Greene.
Eight inches and more of the heavy stuff.
Monday, February 2, 2026
2017 February
Everyone in New York City took a snow day. Everyone. Only exception, except as always the Department of Sanitation were hard at work along with the rest of the city workers serving and protecting New Yorkers. Also hard at work the food delivery people. Ever vigilant to the needs of the city.
The white deep snow covered all of Fort Greene. Mid-thigh depth.
New York. A snow day. Maybe two. I traveled north on Amtrak to Catskill on the Hudson.
Every mile the train transported me further into the grasp of winter. North of Peekskill another weather zone. More wintry. The Hudson gathering ice from shore to shore.
The Hudson River flowed white in the light of the setting sun.
Charlotta met me at the station and we drove across the Rip Van Winkle Bride to the town of Catskill and her house.
The sun shone bright in the morning.
Especially at Thomas Cole's Studio.
The view from his porch is timeless.
Charlotta's house needed a little work.
I needed work too.
I love listening to the trains heading south along the Hudson, until I realized they were carrying fracked oil.
Still in the quiet of the night I pretended it was 1969.
I stayed like the snow.
A week.
Two weeks.
Happy to be out of the city, but all good things come to an end even in the cold.
And I took the train back to New York.
No one from New York had called.
No one there had noticed my absence.
The city only exists on the living.
And I have lived.
And outlived others.
Sadly.
Back in New York at the Lex Line platform. A train. A garbage train loaded with snow. I go on. Only few can ride the trash train.
Not the dead, Only the living like me.
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