Saturday, July 5, 2014

Holiday with the Hillbillies

Evan's hand out the car window

Living in the part of the county I do, New Jersey, the Fourth of July usually means it’s time to head south for the beach. This year however we decided to go in the opposite direction, Upstate New York! The Catskill Mountains are just what this man and his family needed.

If you have never been in the area, this part of New York is as far opposite of Manhattan as you can get. To put it into perspective I am currently sitting an hour away from the “local” Wal*Mart! The nearest town has A stop light and the grocery store is the bakery, pharmacy, beer store, and gathering center.

I was unsure what it would be like celebrating a holiday that thrives on sun, salt water, and grilling in the middle of woods, but I was pleasantly surprised, and you might be too!

First off, having a proper BBQ requires 3 things; a grill (preferably charcoal), good company (preferably family and close friends), and a place to rest your head (preferably not a sidewalk). My toes do not require sand to feel relaxed. My nose does not need to smell coconut scented sun screen for me to feel patriotic. My eyes certainly don’t need to see overweight men in undersized bathing suits to celebrate our Nations birthday.

In this world of Social Media updates we tend to be more consumed with posting grand pictures of popular places then enjoying time with those who matter most. There might not be any MTV shows filmed here or pop songs written about it but that is what makes it what it is, peaceful.

For a good portion of our drives into the towns here we had no cell service. No ability to check Twitter (@erush520), hop on Facebook, or text our friends. Guess what? We all survived. In fact, we actually spent the time talking to each other and singing! What a novel idea, engaging in meaningful dialogue with those around you.

We went to a carnival, ate greasy food, drove high into the mountains, and saw some of Mother Nature’s most amazing work. While the smell of cow manure in the air is not the same as the smell of a good boardwalk pizza parlor, it is not necessarily worse.

Turns out I didn't even miss the obnoxious beach-goers, besides I had a whole new breed of people to stare at, hillbillies.

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