There are relatively few people who can say that they grew up in the shadow of the mountains. The mountains loomed large over the town I grew up, showing their large footprint as the rose out of the land just south of the town where I went to Elementary and High School.
While I lived most of my first 25-years of my life on my parents eight-acres, playing in the woods and in the creek, I went to school in Greenville, which is about 15 miles from the northern-most range of the Catskills. Those mountains loom large over the town as one proceeds south on the two-lane NY Route 32. At times, they look as though they must almost reach up to the sky, as high exists in the world.
They are an impressive feature. A routine feature to anybody who lives out by Greenville and sees them everyday, but still one that leaves a lasting impression on oneself. When I was younger I might have hiked the mountains a few times, but I never spent an extended period up there. I certainly could not have identified every peak from memory or been able to look up and know what it look likes on down. Today I can.
When I was younger I probably should have asked more questions and respected those mountains more. I should have paid more attention, and spent more time hiking them. Yet I didn’t. Regardless, those mountains, constantly hanging over the Greenville skyline had a persist ant impact on my life.