Ralph Gardner Jr.

A major celestial event occurred at our house this week. It’s not the one you’re thinking of. Indeed, the total eclipse of the sun turned out to be a partial bust. Thick clouds rolled in approximately half an hour before totality – or the ninety-five percent of it we were granted in our part of the Hudson Valley – and didn’t part for a good sixty minutes.

I don’t feel depressed. I’m actually sleeping more soundly than normal. My appetite remains robust. I’m able to focus. Energy is good. My self-esteem is relatively sturdy.

The recent closing of Kozel’s, a Columbia County restaurant that had been around since 1936, felt like a death in the family. Maybe not an immediate family member, but a family member nonetheless.

I owe David Becker, a Columbia County artist and a friend, a debt of gratitude. David gave me something far more important than a hot stock tip or the name of a physical therapist that works wonders. He introduced me to a dependable diner.

The village of Kinderhook, NY has undergone a remarkable renaissance over the last few years. The revival has been anchored by a complex of shops and restaurants, an art gallery and a yoga studio, together known as the Knitting Mill. The Old Dutch Inn, overlooking the storybook village square, has been transformed into a boutique hotel. And lest anybody think I’m exaggerating, Taylor Swift was spotted at one of the yoga classes and rumored to be house hunting.

Once you reach a certain age, whether retired or still gainfully employed, it seems to me that one responsibility dwarfs all others. That’s to stay healthy, to the extent that exalted state remains under our control.

As you age you become something of a connoisseur of friendship. Perhaps it’s because the arc of your life becomes more distinct; you can stand back and examine the people that have come and gone, and those who remain. The exercise provides something of the satisfaction of viewing a rainbow after a downpour and taking in the whole dazzling thing, from one end to the other; though I’d like to think that the contours of my own journey remain incomplete.

We recently had dinner with friends at the Aviary, an excellent restaurant in Kinderhook, NY, when the husband beat me to the best seat at the table. In other words, my seat. Being a gracious person I didn’t protest, mostly because the second best seat wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t as good as his seat. But it sufficed.

If things had gone according to National Weather Service predictions – starting several days out and continuing until they changed at almost the last minute – I should currently be looking out upon a vista of pristine white snow.

It wasn’t my idea, but we’re getting a puppy. Don’t get me wrong. I love dogs. A home without one is just a house. Especially our house. It’s large and rambling and buried deep in the woods. If ever a domicile and its residents were crying out for canine companionship this is the place.