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Showing posts from April, 2015

Onward to The Vineyard

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Wednesday saw us traveling from Saratoga to Martha’s Vineyard. Didn’t take many images, but once we were on the ferry, I could not resist a few snaps. This place is amazing! More Thursday.

Saratoga!

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 I append the exclamation point because our stay in this lovely city  was a bit of pure serendipity aided by a healthy dose of ignorance. When Sharon asked me where we might stay in the Hudson River Valley, I tossed off the name Saratoga for no good reason and not realizing that it is actually above the valley and some hundred miles distant from Hyde Park. However, my mistake gave us the chance to drive up and down the various iterations of Highway 9 (9, 9W, 9L, 9P, etc. What is that about anyways? There are other numbers available for roads, aren’t there?) and to get to know this gorgeous area. But this logistical error also gave us some time to explore the city of Saratoga Springs. We might not have done so were it not for our determination to slow things down after a hectic chase across the Chesapeake and the fact that Sharon, our Logistics Manager, found the Inn at Saratoga. The hotel, designated as one of the Historic Hotels of America, was an abso

Down Memory Lane with Franklin and Eleanor

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 We spent Monday in the Hudson River Valley. In 1978, I spent a few weeks at the Franklin D. Roosevelt Library under a grant from the Eleanor Roosevelt Association, doing research on the State Department and Soviet policy. As soon as we decided to make this trip, I knew that I wanted to return to this beautiful valley which had helped to shape my professional life. Nothing is ever the same, of course, and much had changed, but now, older and no longer a scholar of American foreign policy, I spent the day with Sharon touring my own back pages. The Franklin D. Roosevelt Library and Museum, much as I remember them, at least on the outside Springbrook, the family home, where FDR was born and where he returned as often as he could The sitting room. Note the wheelchairs. What Roosevelt sought to obscure, his disability, the birthplace and museum deal with quite openly. Roosevelt as a young man, "the squire of Hyde Park"