Some Delights of the Hudson Valley
by Danny Shanahan

In 1995, after years of living in the desert paradise around Albuquerque, my family and I moved to the Hudson Valley, or, to be more specific, the village of Rhinebeck. At the time I had never lived anywhere as an adult for more than, oh, about seven years.

From the ages of 18 to 25, I lived with my parents (and ten brothers and sisters) in a rambling (thank God) farmhouse in Bethlehem, Connecticut. It was a town much like Rhinebeck, quaint and bucolic, only smaller and sleepier (more cows than people; lots of cow-tipping). At the age of 25 I moved to New York City to make my mark, where, working as a soda jerk (making minimum wage), I met the woman I would eventually marry. At the seven-years-in-the-city mark, we lost our lease and decided to relocate. We didn't necessarily want to remain on the East Coast (see: ten brothers and sisters, who I love dearly, but, c'mon). We needed to find a place where we could afford to buy a house, raise a family, and pursue our respective careers (for my wife, dance, for me, being funny through the mail). We settled on New Mexico, where my wife had family and dance-teaching opportunities, and where I would soon find many, many outstanding mailboxes.

Fast forward seven years. We now have two wonderful sons, a house of our own, and I'm in the sixth year of my contract with The New Yorker, drawing cartoons and illustrations, even the occasional cover. But all is not well—we're really, really missing the East coast. I've been able to travel back to New York quite frequently, but it's just not the same. We miss the seasons, the beaches, the green of the valleys and woods. We miss Boston and New York. We even miss Jersey, sort of, kinda. After careful consideration of the pros and cons (not the least of the cons being our two sons versus the 600 or so identified gangs in the Albuquerque area), we decided to move back East. But where? We wanted country, but not too country. We needed a train station nearby, and good schools for the kids. Culture would be nice; good restaurants a plus. And we'd downsized, albeit temporarily, to one car, so a dad who works at home would love a walking village, so as to avoid going slowly, quietly insane. Impossible, right?

Needless to say, we found all of that and more right here in Rhinebeck. Three of my cartoonist colleagues at The New Yorker lived here, and they had nothing but raves for the Hudson Valley. My wife had graduated from Bard College; she loved the area as well. I did a little house hunting, a little exploring, a bit of antiquing, and realized that this was the place. We decided the time was right, and made the leap. Thirteen years, two dogs, four cats, a guinea pig and a Russian Dwarf hamster later (memo to self: query Steve King re backyard graveyard; expect returns when?), we remain delighted with Rhinebeck. And Woodstock. And Tivoli. Not to mention Hudson, Red Hook, Catskill. Ancramdale, Tannersville and a host of other towns we've visited during our time here. In this incredible region, natural beauty surrounds us, as does history, culture, and just about any appetizer, entrée, or dessert known to man. I can visit Katterskill Falls in the morning, hit the Farmer's Market in the afternoon, catch an early film at Upstate Films, and still have time to have a few people over for a nightcap. And, hey, aren't the true delights of the Hudson Valley the people?

The people I've met and the friends I've made during my comparatively brief time living here are diverse, interesting, hard-working, caring and, yes, extremely talented. And the point of my writing this (yes, Virginia, there is a Reason Claus) is to let the big cat out of the bag: they're funny, too. Some wry and pithy, others fall down, get up, fall down again and lose your wallet hilarious. As you might imagine, this is very important to me. After all, laughter is my business, captions my calling card. When local publisher Monkfish/Epigraph Books (another Hudson Valley treasure) asked me if I'd be willing to compile and edit an anthology of humor, consisting solely of the work of people who live and work here, I jumped at the chance. Arriving in bookstores this fall will be (trumpet fanfare, please) Some Delights of the Hudson Valley: An Anthology of Hudson Valley Humor. In this collection you'll find such varied literary talent as Bard's Leon Botstein, legendary rocker Graham Parker, Saturday Night Live alum Denny Dillon, poet Robert Kelly, and writers Mary Gaitskill, Nina Shengold, Mark Burns among others. I was completely overwhelmed by the generosity and scope of the local talent that was, weekly, laid on my doorstep (and on my PowerBook). So many local graphic artists, sculptors, poets and writers contributed mightily. My three cartoonist colleagues at The New Yorker ( Michael Crawford, Liza Donnelly, and Michael Maslin) who all live within a Stone's throw of my studio (Mick's, not Keith's) came through with brilliantly funny artwork. Michael Maslin, a New Yorker cartoonist for more than 30 years, designed and drew the book's cover. I recently talked to Michael about his career and his life in the Hudson Valley over a (sadly abbreviated) Hudson Valley Scramble at Bread alone in Rhinebeck.

Danny: (Greets MM, fumbles with his tape recorder, then, deciding against using such backward technology, pulls out a small pad) So, do you mind if I try to remember this talk manually? I can always recreate anything I miss, ala James Frey.

Michael: Works for me.

Danny: (mumbling to himself) Works…for…me…So, tell me, how long have you lived in the Hudson Valley?

Michael: We moved here from Greenwich Village in 1980. We spent our first four years in Kerhonksen, then from 1984 to 1987 lived in Hopewell Junction. In 1987 we moved to Milan, and have been here ever since.

Danny: You've certainly been around. That certainly explains the wonderful book cover you've drawn. With so many varied Hudson Valley Delights, the C.I.A, The Dutchess County Fair, clouds over Milan, dogs in intersections, are there any you'd like to mention that aren't portrayed?

Michael: Well, probably too many, but two I'd have to mention are Vassar and Bard College, most especially all of the cultural events at Bard, and particularly their fantastic library! Any ordinary Joe like you or I can walk on in and have untold volumes at his or her fingertips! (Disclaimer— Michael's daughter, Ella, just finished her first year at Bard, and my son, Render, just started his first year there this August. I can't speak for Michael, but, libraries aside, I'm an raging Ordinary Joe Pro-Bardite, an OJPB).

Danny: Done any good research there lately?

Michael: Glad you asked. I'm finishing up a biography of New Yorker Magazine legend Peter Arno, and with my wife (the aforementioned Liza Donnelly, cartoonist extraordinaire) just finished a collaborative effort called Cartoon Marriage. It's being published by Random House and will be out in January.

Danny: That sounds really great. Some Delights of the Hudson Valley will be published in the fall.

Michael: Yes, I know.

Danny: This fall.

Michael: Yes, you mentioned that.

Danny: Colorful leaves, apples, cool weather…. (An uncomfortable silence follows, broken by my fumbling my hot cup of coffee, soaking my pants and dousing my notepad. Thankfully, my cell phone rings- the other customers simply assume my ring tone is set on "Painful Shriek.")

Danny: Hello…Oh, great, that's great news. I'll be right there.

Michael: Problem?

Danny: No, not at all. That was my son. It seems as though the woodchuck I've been trying to trap has finally taken the bait. I'm going to have to run. He has to be released into the wild.

Michael: Your son?

Danny: The woodchuck. Let me leave you with some hard-earned advice: If you trap a skunk, release him at Ferncliff Forest, but if you trap a woodchuck, only Poet's Walk will do.

Michael: ?

Danny: See you around. (I leave my good friend Michael, sticking him with the check. He's probably wondering what just happened, but I made certain that my pen, my coffee-soaked pad and my recalcitrant tape recorder were left behind, too. I'm sure he'll be delighted.)