After ushering within the weekend with some trail-oriented Platypussery on Friday…
[The Platypus, shown here in warmer times. It was like 20 American Freedom Degrees™ Friday and I wasn’t about to take my mittens off to take any pictures.]
…I awoke Saturday to considerably hotter temperatures, in addition to a dusting dusting of snow, so I ventured again out onto the highway:
Then by Sunday it was not solely hotter nonetheless, but additionally sunny, and so I crossed the mighty Hudson and took within the so-called “River Street:”
I’ve been driving River Street happening thirty years now, and like most cyclists I nearly by no means take the time to cease and discover this stunning park. Nonetheless, a bit of the route is at the moment “closed,” and as I dismounted to avoid a barrier I noticed one thing I’d by no means observed earlier than:
It was an outdated cemetery:
So I headed over to test it out:
It was troublesome to make out the dates or actually something past the names:
Although I might see this one marked the grave of a kid aged two years and 10 days:
Somebody has additionally been visiting this one:
That seems to be a photo voltaic mild on the foot of the tombstone, and on prime of it’s a candle, a coin, and a bite-sized Snickers:
After I obtained residence I consulted a well-liked search engine and located the next:
[This is in NJ, not NY, so I assume that’s a typo.]
“Wack Me Jug” will not be the title of an grownup journal, slightly it’s the sobriquet of the beloved city drunk who is outwardly buried there:
Apparently “Whack me Jug” was the city’s fabled alcoholic who ran across the neighborhood towing his jug of alcohol and leaping over it whereas singing, “Whack me jug” to the amusement of the kids within the space. Sadly he’s rumored to have died on the seaside and was discovered by the identical youngsters that adored him early within the morning, his jug laying beside him. He’s rumored to be buried right here on this graveyard together with his jug- therefore the title.
Individuals could bemoan the truth that as we speak’s youngsters are a bunch of display addicts with the eye span of a hummingbird with a studying incapacity, however it’s necessary to take care of some perspective, and to keep in mind that the entertainment-starved youngsters of yesteryear have been so abjectly bored that they needed to look to indigent drunkards for his or her amusement.
I used to be additionally fascinated to be taught that these erstwhile townsfolk have been displaced by what as we speak folks would name “gentrification:”
This cemetery is situated on the base of the Palisades Interstate Park in an space which was as soon as a part of the Undercliff Colony, AKA “Fisherman’s Village”. The neighborhood consisted of Dutch immigrants who fished and mined the close by space within the early nineteenth century. Lots of the households which can be buried right here can hint their lineage to both the Undercliff or Bloomer’s seaside areas. (If you’re please have a look at my posts for Undercliff Bathhouse and Bloomer’s Seashore Bathhouse . Each bathhouses in addition to the cemetery may be achieved on the identical day).
With the recognition of the Hudson seashores rising, in addition to damaging sentiment directed in direction of the quarries within the space, most of the hardworking households of Undercliff have been pressured out. This cemetery, in addition to the bathhouse ruins, are all that stay of their existence.
I’d solely realized concerning the historical past of these long-closed seashores simply final 12 months:
So at this charge of 1 (1) historic truth each year I’ll be an knowledgeable on Palisades Interstate Park by the early twenty second century, by which level some e-dork will “write” an put up on his AI-generated area weblog about how folks as soon as rode these curious contraptions known as “bicycles” on River Street, till they have been supplanted utterly by the e-shoe:
In any case, as closing resting locations go, this one stays fairly serene all these years later:
My very own bicycle could also be an vintage, however they by no means would have conceived of such a futuristic machine, not to mention an electrical shoe:
Perhaps they’re the fortunate ones.
