It’s a strange phenomenon to leave one far away state in the early morning and find yourself sitting in a familiar chapel in the early evening, looking out the windows at Adirondack pine and listening to voices who are taking you “through the year” in song.
That was my experience a few weeks ago when I pulled into Old Forge, ready for what would be a short week in my Adirondack home.
Before I even had a chance to get to camp after a full day of driving, I saw a notice about a concert at Niccolls Presbyterian Church. I decided to take advantage of a night of music, while also having the opportunity to contribute to the purchase of a new sound system at the church.
Mountains and music are two of my favorite m-words, so I parked the car and quickly went in to find a seat.
Although I am a summer Adirondacker, I like to think that since I have been coming up here all my life, I am bound to know a few faces in the crowd.
I found a perfect seat at the end of a pew next to a window where I was able to sit, breathe and realize that I had made it to my favorite place on earth and was thankful for the days ahead.
I perused the crowd, however I didn’t find a face I knew. So my eyes of course looked hard at the chorus before me, sure that there must either be a voice or face that would remind me of a chapter in my Adirondack story.
Sure enough, my eyes seemed to land on someone who I had just been talking about back in Ohio just a few days earlier. Her hair had grayed since I had last seen her, however, her sweet face reminded me of the kindness she shared with me 30 years ago when she had been the soloist at my wedding.
Not only had she been my soloist but she had also stepped in to help with my reception at Covewood because her good friend, Diane, was sick.
My eyes traveled further down the row and there was the minister who married my children’s father and me. The last I saw of him was from a photograph of him and his wife vacationing somewhere farther away. There he was, taking us all through a year of secular songs.
I happened to think of all of the faces in time that are woven through my Adirondack years. Many were relatives who we shared camp with; others were neighbors up and down the lake.
And, of course, there were the shopkeepers and owners of places we frequented. Ever-changing faces—some having more paragraphs in each chapter than others—yet all a part of over 60 years of “Adirondack Time.”
New faces become part of my continuing life in these North Woods, and as life changes from day to day and year to year, I find myself thankful for all of the gifts these faces bring to my memories.
Perhaps you are one of them!
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Ann Mulford Kent of Yellow Springs, OH is a fifth generation, seasonal Adirondacker who enjoys vacationing on Fourth Lake whenever she gets the chance. During her stays she is inspired to write down a few of her notable experiences.