The day I went to Hyde Park, my soul stirred. It was just a long weekend, spent in the Hudson Valley. The Hudson Valley, ever been? Breath taking. We barbecued burgers and fish. We drank beer. We boated and went to the top of the mountain. There was a dog there, a golden lab with a Mets hat on and a half-moon earing, I’m not kidding. When Sunday arrived I stated my purpose “To Hyde Park.” we went. An hour up river, we arrived. I felt it in my gut as soon as we turned up the drive. Anticipation, all these years I’ve yearned to go. I’d heard it was breathtaking in the spring, as all the trees began to bud. I recall those train rides from Albany to New York, I would scan the Valley for his estate. Little did I know I was looking at the wrong side.
When I was young I had to write a report on a President. Naturally, all the children wrote reports on George Washington and Abraham Lincoln and because it was Catholic school, John F. Kennedy. I was a straight A student, I wouldn’t do what all the other kids were doing. My mom instructed me to ask my father, he told me without a second guess “FDR.” Franklin Delano Roosevelt, a name I would utter at least 1000 times in the 20 years that have passed. I learned about The New Deal and the 2nd World War. I learned that he was the only American President to be elected 4 times and I learned about the Great Depression. At this point, I was a ravenous 9-year-old girl, ready to consume any book on FDR I could get my little hands on. Only President to be crippled, that’s him. Married his 3rd cousin, I knew it. I would use his brand of politics as a basis of my own world views. This plus my Catholic upbringing gave me a strong sense that we must help those who are less fortunate than us. I spent my teenage years being the outspoken liberal in a Catholic, complacent world.
Years later, I was working in Albany, NY. I was doing God’s work, as we liked to call it. Organizing poor nursing home workers into our union. It was a tremendous job, something that I am thankful to this day I stumbled upon. I learned that only about 2 hours south is where FDR called his home, in Hyde Park, NY. I dreamed of going but never made it there. For years later, I swore that at only 3 hours north, I had no excuse not to go but still, never saw it.
So as we entered the visitor center, there were huge displays about Social Security, it turns 75 this year, after all. Strange, I am the convener of the Social Security Coalition in my state. I watched a short film on him as we waited for our tour, I felt the hair on my arms rise when they described his death and how Americans mourned. I tried to put myself in their shoes but it was futile, I never knew such a leader and never knew such hard times. It was a hot day, the last week of June. We took the tour and the guide told us some beautiful stories of his eccentricity, his courage and his leadership. We looked out over the Hudson from his backyard and prayed at his grave, while smelling the rose bushes. All in all it was a great trip. I am sure A had no idea how I felt the entire time we were there but I am so thankful we went.
