Photo by Devin Leary
Last Sunday, my daughter Devin and I spent the afternoon in Sleepy Hollow. The town of Sleepy Hollow was originally part of Tarrytown – a lovely village on the Hudson River, just about a half-hour north of Manhattan in Westchester County, NY. Sleepy Hollow was made famous by Washington Irving who wrote the story of poor Ichabod Crane and his terrifying flight from the ghost of the Headless Horseman in The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, first published in 1820. The story begins with this description of the town:
“In the bosom of one of those spacious coves which indent the eastern shore of the Hudson, at that broad expansion of the river denominated by the ancient Dutch navigators of the Tappan Zee, and where they always prudently shortened sail and implored the protection of St. Nicholas when they crossed, there lies a small market town or rural port which by some is called Greenburgh, but which is more generally and properly known by the name of Tarry Town. This name was given, we are told, in former days, by the good housewives of the adjacent county, from the inveterate propensity of their husbands to linger about the village tavern on market days.”
Dev is a photographer for her college newspaper and was sent there on assignment. I went along. You know, because I hadn’t seen her in over a week. We spent the afternoon poking around the village and then we wandered into the town’s famous cemetery.
The Sleepy Hollow Cemetery is enormous and old and is spread along a series of grassy hills that offer magnificent views of the unique landscape of that area. It was late in the afternoon when we found the place and started wandering amidst the tombstones and statues and house-like crypts that cast their long parallel shadows across the wide, quiet paths. At first we just quickly glanced at the headstones as we walked along, the way you would look at the windows and doors of stranger’s homes while strolling through a quaint, historic town. You don’t really stop and stare because, though you’re curious, you don’t want the occupants to think you’re snooping. It took us a little while before we felt comfortable enough to really look at the epitaphs and the lovely carvings and statues that, we reminded ourselves, were designed to be admired. By people like us.
There are so many species of trees planted there that it feels almost like a delightful arboretum strewn with headstones. The leaves of the trees were all just starting to brighten from that dull, flat wall of green (I’m not really a summer person) into all into their various brilliant tones of autumn. It had been hot that week, but now it was growing chilly. The light was that thin, yellow October light that makes you think of your childhood and pumpkins and crispy piles of dead leaves, ghosts, leggings and mittens. It smelled like somebody was actually burning leaves – a practice that I thought had been outlawed everywhere. It smelled like a home where I had never lived, but always imagined, like a childhood neighbor’s home that you used to drive past and see all lit up in the dusk – the dad out burning leaves, the mom, you imagined, baking pies. Fall is a very nostalgic time for me, it fills me with vague happy memories of strangers’ imaginary childhoods. And my own childhood, my own rubber boots, pumpkins, mittens, my own young parents and my little sister and big brother. The piles of leaves, our sweet tabby cat who now seemed bewitched and conniving. Our hot costumes and trick-or-treat bags that were actually old pillowcases. Trying to breathe through a tiny mouth hole in a Halloween mask from Woolworth’s; trying to see through the crooked eyes. It was so hard to breathe and see when we were out trick-or-treating on Halloween, we were just so utterly thrilled with fright and greed.
Anyway, it wasn’t spooky at all, that cemetery, but rather, it was serene. Peaceful and quiet. The sun was setting at such an angle that it lit the western faces of all the tombstones and when we touched their surfaces, they warmed our hands like stones that had been heated in an oven. It was an inviting place. I know it sounds odd – who wants to feel welcome or invited to a cemetery – but it felt like a really lovely place to retire. For eternity.
I’ve blogged about the Writer’s Almanac before but wanted to mention that there’s a lovely poem posted there today. It’s about older people. I’ve been out on a few ambulance calls recently, calls involving “seniors,” and I’ve been thinking a lot about the way people’s lives come to an end. For some of us, it might be after a ride in the back of an ambulance, which is really sort of a warm nice place, at least ours is. The heat is usually on because the patient is in shock or not able to be warmly clothed due to various intravenous lines, etc., so it’s warm, and there is only a small window in the back, so when you’re speeding along the highway, you really feel a sense of flight. You could be in a jet or a rocket – only the jostling and occasional sharp turns remind us of the ground we’re covering, and that we’re touching it (sometimes, it seems, just barely). The ambulance, just a few months ago, was a little scary to me, but now, much less so. I don’t really notice all the lights and equipment now. It’s just the patients. They’re afraid. It’s scary for them and we try to make it a little better. We joke about the bad driving of the chief and tell them their ride home from the hospital will be a lot more comfortable. You always want to make sure the patients know that they’ll be going home. That this isn’t their last ride. That our strange, sleepy, unwashed faces aren’t the last faces they’ll ever see, but just in case they are, we try to look like we’re not afraid for them. That there’s nothing to worry about. That we’re almost there.
I have been to Sleepy Hollow and, yes, the cemetery is beautifully serene and inviting.
This post was beautiful. And brought tears. A family member had to ride to the hospital in an ambulance unexpectedly. Though, isn’t it always unexpected when an ambulance needs to show up.
Grateful to know that the people sitting with him in the back gave him comfort and allayed his fears.
I love beautiful details of fall you’ve reminded me about, details from a child’s perspective, especially this line: “The light was that thin, yellow October light that makes you think of your childhood and pumpkins and crispy piles of dead leaves, ghosts, leggings and mittens.” It makes me long to live in New England so I can finally experience the autumn of my dreams.
Ann, I’ve been interested in how your emt work was going, so was pleased to read some of your thoughts on the subject. I’ve had a couple of those rides and yes my attendants were fretting about the speed of the ride, I wasn’t aware that we were speeding and was wondering what is the matter with these girls? Actually, I just didn’t want to be there and kept closing my eyes hoping everything would just go away, they kept bugging me to stay alert asking me all those silly questions, like the day of the week etc. You people do a great service to those in a time of need, thank you!
Thanks also for a beautifully written post.
Ann, You are a lovely, kind woman and this post just confirmed that…Happy (Canadian) Thanksgiving to you, yours, and all of my fellow Ann fans…
Have a great week, everyone!
how is it possible that i’ve never thought of what one might feel riding in an ambulance? beautifully said. what a gift to be able to be there for the patients to make them even a little less afraid.
p.s. will look forward to the exciting, new, consolidated Facebook page.
This lovely post made me all teary today. Dad died in April. Another New England fall is upon us and its cool beauty soothes us as we mourn the loss of all that was green and sweet and ripe and we harden up for the cold winter ahead. Very hard not to get nostalgic. Glad I’m not the only one.
Funny, I’ve been planning a trip to Sleepy Hollow myself this October, Ann. Now you’ve got me all revved up!
Ann–Thank you for this lovely post about a place just a few minutes from where we live.
After September 11, my brother (who escaped from the WTC that day) quit his job, trained as an EMT, and worked an ambulance in the Bronx and Manhattan for five years. He sometimes spoke of his experiences in ways that your post reminds me of…I’ll share this with him.
Ann, this was beautiful. You captured the serenity of old graveyards perfectly. They are wonderful old repositories of stone work and words we know no longer use (or spell that way anymore). They’re also teeming with life – plant and otherwise. You wrote this so marvelously I can almost see and smell the leaves burning, or hear the sound of a siren.
Thank you for a wonderful start to a very sunny and 80′s temp Sunday in SoCal. Fall is sort of a non-event here!
“The light was that thin, yellow October light that makes you think of your childhood and pumpkins and crispy piles of dead leaves, ghosts, leggings and mittens.”
Absolutely lovely sentence, and I know exactly what you mean. Nice post.
This post is absolutely beautiful! It is our family tradition to go to Sleepy Hollow every October. The main attraction we go there for is The Great Jack O’ Lantern Blaze. Have you been? It’s amazing. This year we’re going the Friday before Halloween. Of course, we always go to Sleepy Hollow cemterey and the Old Dutch Church. A few years ago my son actually fell, running in the rain, and sliced the area around his eye open on an old 18th century gravestone. So, we came to know the Sleepy Hollow emergency room that night as well! He turned out fine so it is just added to our family lore.
Anyway, it was a delight to read this post! And if you ever get a chance to go to Washington Irving’s home, Sunnyside, you must go!
Ann – you might believe that your biggest fan lives in Miami, but it’s been true since I bought “Outtakes” in hardcover and got furious with the girls from The View for fawning all over Denis at your book appearance on the show — instead of really letting you talk about the book. So I’m most grateful for your blog and tweets and all the beautiful peeds and insights into the life of a horse/dog lover/writer/woman-of-our-times.
Bless you and Julie Klam for all the attention you bring to dogs.
Twelve of my 13 pooches (from the time I was born) appear at http://www.lauracerwinske.com/pages/portraits.html.
Maybe some day I’ll have the opportunity to paint you and yours.
All the best and big slobbery dog/horse (and I guess Denis, too) kisses.
Laura
Ann, that was a beautiful post, and was perfect reading after my day with the vacuum cleaner.
I never really thought about how a patient feels in an ambulance until now.
The part about trick or treating with your pillowcases hit home too. I remember rushing home with mine, bursting with excitement at the thought of spreading out the candy on the floor.
Great post.
Ann- I forget that you are an EMT. What a fantastic article. I love your writing and I might just have to buy your book. I’m not really a summer person either:), but I do love to go to Mexico with my hubby. Does that count as summer?? Happy Fall!
“…it fills me with vague happy memories of strangers’ imaginary childhoods” — very annlearyesque, that. Transporting post! And I am not just referring to the ambulance ride.
Thank you all for the kind comments and many thanks to you Phil, for helping me with my latest New Yorker Critterati entry:
http://www.newyorker.com/online/photocontests/critterati_2010/gallery
I am sitting here just amazed at your description of Halloween and your Woolworth’s mask and pillowcase. I can close my eyes and see my brother and I in my minds’ eye on our Halloween adventures in Chicago so clearly. Man, did you ever nail it. I live one block from a very large cemetery. I walk or ride my bike in there daily. I find it very calming inside the gates of the cemetery and love the statues of the Angels especially. Many are masterpieces. They appear to be watching over all us walkers, joggers, and bike riders who file in everyday. And the many young kids who are learning to drive too. Many days I think to myself that they like all the company that descends into their gates in mass everyday, welcoming us to their heavenly world.
OMG…Mark is just too funny. There are no words for that one.
Ann – You are a great writer! What a beautiful, descriptive post!
I LOVED this post since one of my passions is research, documentation and preservation of old cemeteries. A cemetery really is a history of a people and their community. A look into their past and a sanctuary of peace and quiet for the living.
And I loved your description of the ambulance ride…..how rewarding that type of work must be.
I loved this post, especially the last few lines. You are such a gifted writer.
I agree with everyone’s assessment of today’s blog. Beautiful.
But mostly, I agree with Candy. There just are no words for Mark’s getup in the Critterati contest. Not sure if it’s getup or get-up, or get up. But, oh my!
The photo of Mark is brilliant.
Oh, and the photo of the graveyard is beautiful.
You know–we all have had unique childhoods, and yet a post like this one can remind us that, despite our differences ( ages, family situations, parts of the country) we all have so much in common. Childhood Halloween memories….your story touched a chord in lots of us !! In order to avoid the mask problems, one of my brothers always dressed as an old lady; complete with hat with a flower, makeup, the whole nine yards. And we have the family pictures to prove it !!Thank you for bringing back such fun times…….
And your story of some ambulance rides truly brought me to tears….I’ve been in one or two rides where I was afraid; thank you for your wonderful kindness to those who are in your care and are afraid.
Mark is just precious !!!!
great, thought provoking post.
growing up, the gumpy old couple on our street used to turn their lights off every halloween and hang ‘wet paint’ signs on their porch. i think it might’ve cause them to get egged a few years. there is a chance that i was part of the egging parade.
one year i decided to get creative and dress up as a box of tide detergent. i neglected to realize that the box should not come below my knees in case i fell in the middle of a major, dark street. i think we all know what happened. karma.
Lisa, I loved the “grumpy couple” story. Wet paint – ingenious!
Beautiful picture! And thank you for sharing the ambulance story. Kind of sad, but so nice to know how encouraging and comforting you guys make it for the patients.
Ann as my parents get older I think about their mortality more and more. I’ve never thought about one of them taking an ambulance ride. My how I hope if they ever do they are lucky to have someone as caring and thoughtful as you with them.
Your description of fall made my heart ache. I have lived in SoCal for 31 years and still miss the vividly colorful change of seasons of the midwest and back east. I used to love walking in cemeteries and reading the tombstones. Out here we don’t have tombstones, we have markers. How generic. When I walked in the summer I always came home with souvenirs I DID NOT like – chigger bites.
I used to be so impressed by Denis and his comedy, until I met Ann and her writing.
I got a new job today, I start next Monday. Everyone keep your fingers crossed for me. I was so unhappy in my last job, I know the only way to go is up. Happy Monday, xoxo.
Ann, beautiful post. I especially loved this line:
It smelled like a home where I had never lived, but always imagined, like a childhood neighbor’s home that you used to drive past and see all lit up in the dusk – the dad out burning leaves, the mom, you imagined, baking pies.
When I was so far away from home in college, I used to look up into the hills above my dorm and see houses all lit up with nightly activity. It made me feel better (and worse), especially in October, as I marked my birthday on my own.
P.S. Mark should win the Critterati contest. That costume is pure genius!
Oh dear, just saw the Daphne and Lulu entries. Fabulous! This competition is heating up!
Hi Candy,
Good luck in your new job.. I am envious,, wish I had the courage to make the leap. Enjoy the beautiful weather in Chi-town this week as you get ready for next Monday.
Hey Candy,
Just saw that you have gotten a new job, and wanted to wish you luck. In my experience, every time I’ve left a job it was a good move, although it didn’t always feel that way at first. I am sure you will bloom!
beautiful- thank you-
I have just visited my 93 year old Grandma in her nursing home, a trip I’d been afraid to make because the last time I was in a nursing home was when my great grandmother was dying, and I was about 8 ( I’m 43 ) it was a scary place, filled with odd smells and elderly people calling out for their mothers (! so terrifying to my young self!) but, I love my Grandma, and I went to visit her at her nursing home in downstate Illinois last weekend. It was lovely, cozy and sunny. her room had a view of trees and bird feeders. The nurses were friendly and caring. Her bed was covered with soft sheets and a comforter. She was glad to see me, and I her. I do not think I will see her again as I live hours away and have three kids and animals and work and blah blah blah etc… I’m glad that there are kind people in the world who are there to take care of folks like her, like your ambulance passengers.
ok, perhaps a bit TMI for a comment, and something I should expand on in my own writing, but, thank you for your post. I have been enjoying your blog very much.
Oh Lori……I don’t think it was TMI at all. Just shows how a touching, lovely post does just that–touches us in different ways.
Thank you for sharing.
And Candy, good luck Monday. Wishing you nothing but success in your new job. And in this world–congratulations on finding a new job !!!!
Lori, that was a very nice story. How nice that your grandmother is in a lovely place. I hope the last quarter of my life is spent in a sunny spot surrounded by trees.
Candy, good luck with the new job. It’s so scary to be the new kid, but I’m sure you’ll win them all over in no time. You did a very brave thing, and I’m sure the right thing for your peace of mind.
Ann, I just read and watched your tweet from 10/10 about the dance that Denis wants to learn for your next anniversary. Please, oh please, get that on film, I beg of you.
Ann, this is perhaps one of your finest pieces. Your ability to weave words into images and images into stories, stories that evoke a panoply of emotions and memories from your readers, is sometimes breathtaking.
Lori, thanks for sharing that story about your Grandma (not TMI at all!).
Candy, you go, girl! (Is okay for a guy to say that???)
YAY Candy!!!!!!
Good luck today Candy!
To go along the theme of Halloween and Sleepy Hollow – came along this Spooky Homes for Sale Slideshow (Slide 3 is in Tarrytown).
http://realestate.msn.com/slideshow.aspx?cp-documentid=25672563#1#q=Spooky%20homes%20for%20sale%3A%20Spooky%20homes%20for%20sale
If you wouldn’t mind posting…. what is the background music you used for your scary You-Tube Video?
Thanks in advance.
Joni, I got the music from YouTube and if I spent some time I could probably find it again. Actually, I think I mentioned the name in the comments of the original post of the video, because the name is funny.
Meanwhile, Charlotte, that link to the haunted house real estate site is great. The WSJ video of the so-called haunted house cracked me up. Now I think I might have to do a tour of our house and explain how haunted it is.
First of all, I think Mark should win the Critterati contest hands-down. (Hooves-down?) Good Lord, that’s hilarious! (The pic immediately brings to mind my favorite short joke: “A horse walks into a bar. Bartender says, ‘Why the long face?’”) Honestly, the photo and the getup are perfect. Mark looks so stoic, so good-naturedly tolerant.
And this is such an especially beautiful and affecting post, Ann. I am so moved by your words at the end about the comfort given to those taking that scary ride in the ambulance … you paint the whole scene so vividly, of the bright, cramped space hurtling like a rocket down the road, of your putting on a brave face for them, and it brings tears to my eyes to read “there’s nothing to worry about” … “we’re almost there.” Oh, that we should all be so blessed to have a presence like that right next to us during such moments.
Catherine, I was touched by your remembrance of seeing the lit-up windows of homes in the hills above your college dorm and imagining the family life within while you spent your birthday on your own. I likewise have often been drawn to the cozy nighttime glow coming from strangers’ homes, wondering what stories are going on inside. Thanks for sharing that.
Lori, thanks too for the wonderful comment about your grandmother.
Perhaps she doesn’t hold a candle to New England, but Southern California autumns are crisp and lovely as well. I walked through an old cemetary and the maple leaves, lit by late afternoon light, falling over the headstones were golden.
It will be even more dazzling when I start radiation treatments and light up like a flame.
Gloria
Gloria-You will SHINE!!!!Hang in there and know that good thoughts are coming your way—Take care and all the very, very best to you….
From start to finish, you’ve touched every possible emotion. Your words paint images in my mind, create stirring in my heart.