He Would Be in Beacon Today

Beacon had a bad reputation when I was young.  So did Poughkeepsie.  But Poughkeepsie was tied to my family and I heard all the stories of how it used to be and I knew the drama of its ups and downs since the day it was a wailing port.  Beacon however, was two stops down river on the train, off from Route 9, hidden from the train stop, I never really saw anything of the town.  And when I was a day student in a boarding school in Poughkeepsie, the Beacon kids were tended to occupy the aggressive, dim, burnout side section of the aquarium.

I rang a friend down in D.C. to see if perhaps we could find a way to meet while I was home.  Remarkably, he would be in Beacon today, which is a hell of a lot closer than Philly.  Sure.  I’ll be there.  My mom suggested one restaurant that was closed. So was a second.  But it was clear that there were many, many choices. 

The main street that runs up from the river is fascinating.  Lots’ of evocative nineteenth century brick facades.  Rising up is that hill which one passes as one goes east on 84, from Route 9 towards the Taconic Parkway.  It was framed beautifully from the town.  More beautifully than I've ever seen it from the highway.  Someone noticed that a long time ago. Turning left towards where our restaurant surely must be according to the numbers, we came upon a waterfall.  "Oh yeah.  Beacon has a waterfall." I recalled.  

My friend looked great and we picked it all up as though we’d seen each other just the other day.  After a lunch we went across the road to the churning water.  Before long my friend's son and he were seeing who could throw the stone the furthest.  And it was the young man who bested the dad,  Pop had a respectable toss himself, mind you.  But soon the daughter said: “Let’s change the game” and she pushed us to see who could land a stone on a ledge, which required less muscle and more finesse.  And in that moment she reminded so clearly of her mother, who had recently passed.