A few weekends back Betsy, Emily, and I ventured up to Bouckville, NY, the town adjacent to Hamilton, home to our alma mater, Colgate. Famous for its yearly antique show (the rest of the 51 weeks it is a ghost town), thousands of people flock each year in early August to gather, sell, and buy. We've always wanted to go, ever since Betsy wrote her honors thesis about the town. She explored (brilliantly, I might add) how collecting- systematically seeking and acquiring- is a basic human impulse and about the inexplicable forces that draw individuals to certain objects. Between the countless tents of knick knacks, people watching, and fried food, it was a delirious day of adventure, and a nice change of pace.
The weather was strange and moody per usual, the upstate air and rolling hills still oozing with the sense they're keeping a secret. B + E are the best travel buddies, and during the long ride back to New York, in the dark early morning hours on open road, between the handfuls of M&Ms, laughs, and talks of aspirations and uncertainties, we drove with the feeling that we'd figured out- although all too fleetingly- just what it meant to be twenty something.