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Ralph Gardner Jr.

  • 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.
  • Apparently they’ve given a name, or names, to that time of life when you’ve hit your late fifties, sixties or seventies and you’ve retained use of your motor skills, most of your marbles and cling to the belief that fame and fortune remain within reach.
  • My father used to describe himself as a “fun dad." He probably cribbed the expression from some Sixties TV commercial involving a father doing stereotypical things with his child like playing catch or frolicking in their backyard pool.
  • Who should I find sitting in the Moynihan Train Hall at Penn Station recently but my urologist. This isn’t some set-up for a Rodney Dangerfield or Henny Youngman joke. For those who visit the spanking newish facility and fear its architects forgot to include seating – a Google search comes up with lots of Reddit posts in often colorful language decrying the absence of benches -- there’s a ticketed waiting area adjoining the main concourse on the east side of the station.
  • We’re a spoiled, pampered people. If you disagree with me I ask you to consider a felicitous feature of daily life that most of us take for granted -- our refrigerator’s ice maker. So did I until we recently acquired a new fridge without one.