Dateline July 24, 2018, Saratoga and the Road Home

Ellen's folks, and a cat named Hobo. Steve and Ellen drove us around to see the rest of Cooperstown and then brought us by the home of Ellen's parents, Ellen and Dave Morris. They met us on the front porch, along with a cat named Hobo, who had simply wandered up one day and stayed, and so earned his name. We sat a good while and let them regale us with their own stories of a lifetime in the town. The night before we came, a small twister of some kind had blown through and left a few trees down in the yard, but they had come through it just fine.

We said our goodbyes to Steve and Ellen over a last glass of wine and went off to a nearby campsite for the night. We pulled in beside a cluster of families settled into their spots, and noticed their vehicle belonged to the Utica Fire Department.

John got to talking with one of the men, and it came out that they were there with family and friends, and that three of the children along with them were their foster children. That, right there, is the heart and soul of this country.

Janice's father's course. Janice had carried her memories of golf at Otsego all these years, of playing it with her brother and her mother and her dad, of her father driving up from New Jersey every weekend, and for two weeks of vacation besides, for the water skiing and the golf. So the first thing the next morning we went over and played the little nine, and what a joy it was.

It was a fitting close to two wonderful days in Cooperstown, and to as fine an interpretive tour as anyone ever gave us, courtesy of Steve and Ellen. We are hoping we can talk them into coming down to see us in Flagler Beach one day soon.

Saratoga. From there we drove the few hours over to Saratoga, where Janice had once played some tournament golf at the state park course, the Saratoga Spa. We had a tee time set for the next morning, but with rain forecast for two days running we asked about getting out that afternoon instead, found an opening, and went.

The course was a beauty, and we finished comfortably before the first drops fell. Then we drove around the town a little and went to find our spot for the night, which turned out, of all things, to be a fire station again.

The big racing season was still a week off, so the place was quiet. America at its best.

The road home. We thought about a stop or two more, then decided the wiser course was to head straight on to Janice's sister Connie and her husband Lee, up in New Hampshire, and we were glad we did, for the rain caught up with us as we drove. From New Hampshire it would be the long, happy road south, a visit here with old friends and there with family, all the way back down to Flagler Beach. It had been a glorious summer, the whole sweep of it from the Florida coast out to the Pacific and home again across the top of the country, and we counted ourselves blessed, as we always do, for the miles, the people, and the good road home.