Jersey Cows

That summer we believed enough in ourselves to reclaim our souls.

I wish I’d written more that summer. It’s my only regret. Somehow, although not surprisingly, between the two-a-day runs and hours spent knee deep sorting through dusty, wrinkled papers I could never really find the time, or maybe the energy to write. There was nothing substantial anyway. Besides, that summer Garage Band was open more than Word.

‘Oh Andy, I’m having your baby and I think that the baby’s ugly.’

I remember the first couple of weeks we were on the farm the two of us were always (it seemed) absolutely famished. This was before my heart and mind was cruelly crushed upon hearing that granola is actually bad for you. Pre-disenchantment with the edible world, we somehow, by the grace of god found a Taco Bell/TCBY combo in a shopping mall about 20 minutes away. We tried to devise a plan, knowing we couldn’t just come right out and say where we were going. I’m not sure what we made up; come to think of it we might have waited until Davey went into the city for a gig to sneak out. Anyway, seeing her eat those three, hard shell tacos was the happiest I’d seen her in weeks. It seems so funny now thinking back to the end of that summer and how eating half an avocado seemed like a splurge. Obviously things change and change they did that summer.

We drove everywhere in that wretched car. God, it was so foul but we didn’t care, it seemed like freedom cruising down the Taconic with the windows down. Of course, the windows were down because a small (or large) rodent had died and been left to rot for months. Still, we didn’t mind.

Even the simplicity of everyday became something meaningful. Trips to the old A&P for tuna and tomatoes (every, nearly-runorexic’s staples), jogging down to Tompkin’s Corner or a girls outing to the mall to find the perfect jean jacket-it was all so simple and so perfect. Even the tense times I look back on now with a soft smile. We were so angry and fed up that afternoon as we walked down the drive way with Tony bumping at our legs. Auds gave us this big speech, “Just quit then,” she said. “But we don’t want to quit, that’s not fair,” we replied. She gave us a whole hoop-la of a speech and then smiled, “You girls really need to see The Devil Wears Prada.”

Speaking of movies, the four of us went and saw Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest. It was meant to be our grandiose foursome outing but it was so fucking bad I could hardly sit still. Avaughan and Davey had their eyes glued to the screen while Auds and I were absolutely beside ourselves with how terrible it was. Mind you I haven’t seen the godforsaken movie since then but I do recall some octopus called the Crackin or something equally stupid. I kept saying it wrong and Avaughan and Davey kept “shushing” me throughout the whole movie. It was so ridiculous but such a quintessential night for the four of us in Putnam Valley. Afterwards I think we went and ate Greek salads at a diner. I think it was that night, at least.

Those months were such a perfect interjection in all of our lives. I often think of the farm and I can’t help but wonder how it looks covered in snow or how the front drive would feel with wheels rolling on crunching leaves. Of all the places I have ever been and will ever go– that summer, nestled in the Hudson, will always be the time that I remembered or maybe discovered that I was meant to do and be so much more than anything I had ever been told before.

So here’s to Tony, one great end-all BBQ, fireworks on an old Brooklyn rooftop, screen doors, Polaroid cameras, long driveways, one bug-infested Indian headdress, mystery stew, ugly babies, jean jackets, 4-H fairs, the Taconic, A&P, my coke blanket, dumbecks, a skull fan, yellow painted walls and the best summer of my life.

I wish I’d written more that summer. It’s my only regret.