Recently, I visited Sunnyside, the home of Washington Irving, the author of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. It was a pleasant house, and we picked a spot on his porch to eat lunch.
A group of elderly old ladies were also taking in the view of the Hudson river. One lady remarked, "I think I see fish in the water!" She was all excited, so no one wanted to tell her that she was actually looking at the tiny waves breaking.
Except my mom. She looked up and said, "The only fish in the Hudson is a dead fish." And that was that.
Tourists.
The Past Stranger Than Fictions
Why Not? I'm nice, really!
© 1997
