St John’s Episcopal Church and Rectory, Barrytown, NY.

I am finishing a review of the Mary McCarthy memoir, How I Grew “A Memoir Of The Early Years”. It is a fine book by the author of The Group who taught at Bard briefly and was a student and professor down the road a piece at Vassar. It reminds me of home for 35 years and brings on nostalgia. The post on Blogcritics.org is found HERE.

St. John’s was the parish church for many of the estate owners in Barrytown along River Road. There was the Delano Estate, Italianate, dark and gloomy pile of red brick; Rokeby, the strange home of the Rockefeller related, land-poor Aldrich’s where we once went to a schizoid party. One half of the beautiful manor house had a party by one of the brothers who played farmer. There was a country music band who borrowed from a friend of ours (a classical musician of great beauty well into her 80’s) a Stradivarius to fiddle on. A plane landed in the “front yard”. At some point I went around the corner to the other side of the house and sat comfortably at a silver tea service with some proper looking people. I was curtly told that I belonged at the “other” party to which I fled. This had been a stuffy, high level New York bureaucrat brother and Mother. It was a trip as the two parties slowly merged and farmers and musicians and the passing hip wandered through those great rooms filled with centuries of treasures, many molding, more exquisite.

Today take time, if you happen to be driving through the Hudson Valley to visit Scenic Hudson’s sliver of land between Rokeby and the old Chanler estate and visit what is called “Poets’ Walk” which we photographed for the architect who added gazebos and paths and left the seclusion and beauty of an avenue to the Hudson and an overlook of the River, the Amtrak (Old New York Central) train and the Kingston bridge.

Reading the memoir also reminds me of the Steely Dan song My Old School where he vows never to return to “my old school” which is Bard (our alma mater) and is about a girl from Barrytown who spurns him. Many years later we shot him on assignment at Bard to accept an honorary degree. We all change. Memories and perceptions are one thing at 20 and another at 50.

More reminiscences after I re read Henderson The Rain King and old friend and Saul Bellow masterpiece which, since we lived for a time in the same terrible apartment on the same estate of Chanler Chapman (more later) where Saul Bellow had also unhappily lived and decided to use Chanler as his model for the unforgettable character, “Henderson”.

“Clermont”, the Robert R. Livingston house and estate north of Barrytown but once the seat of a 160,000 acre fiefdom that was only brought down in the 1840’s during the “Anti-Rent Wars” of New York.

I am finishing a fine memoir — whether or not I am a great fan of McCarthy’s. I plan a short piece for it on Blogcritics later this week. Today I scanned a photo of her taken at Vassar in the 1920’s. Plus ça change; plus ça meme chose. The more things change; the more they remain the same. It is more than 70 years ago but she looks so modern and, obviously, did not suffer from a lack of attractiveness. There is also a bit of rebelliousness (but only a bit) in the look and an amazing amount of intelligence.

The book is How I Grew “A Memoir Of The Early Years” ©Mary McCarthy, 1986 from Harcourt Books. See harcourtbooks.com.

More later when I have digested it better.

A number of posts went missing from what appears to be a hacking job with some malicious code. Nothing, however, of any import and it was nice to change from the black template which I did find a bit intimidating. I preferred iBlog on .Mac and may return but the $100 a year is an annoyance.