For the past few years, I’ve had a lingering itch in the back of my head to revisit the town where my grandparents (both long since deceased, with my grandfather passing a couple of decades before my grandmother) lived. I also lived there for a couple of years (when I was 8-10), but my mom and I visited regularly.
Chester
To put some logistics in place, they lived in Chester, New York, which I always described as “lower upstate New York”. Growing up, their house was a couple of minutes (by bicycle) away from planted fields, and the firehouse siren announced noon every day.
They lived there for decades, starting in, I believe, some time in the 1950s through the very early 2000s when my grandmother accepted she was not really able to take care of herself and accepted moving in with my mom and I. As part of that move, we (she) sold the house. In retrospect, this is something I regret.
My grandfather (for most of the time he lived there and was alive) was the town pharmacist – literally. He owned and operated the only pharmacy in Chester, a Rexall store. For several years, my grandmother was the chairman of the town board and then, later, was the town tax collector. Needless to say, they knew everyone and everyone knew them.
My Time There
I moved to Chester (for the couple of years I was there) after my parents divorced, along with my mom. She worked in New York City and was commuting (which was a very long, both time and distance, commute). Eventually, we moved to Jersey City, returning to visit every couple of weeks.
Even so, the heart of the village of Chester is seared into my head – including driving the route back and forth. As soon as I got my license, my mom was quite happy to let me drive – I enjoy(ed) driving while it was much more of a “chore” for her, so it made sense.
After about two and a half decades, I wanted to revisit and … I’m not sure what the rest of the “and …” is, to be perfectly honest. All I knew was that I really wanted to go back. Part of it was a desire to share it with my sons – not just showing them the house (from the exterior), but also pointing to various places and telling them about my history.
The Drive Back
So, late Sunday morning, I set off to take the journey. I now live in central New Jersey, so the route is slightly different. But, as soon as I crossed the border and got on the New York State Thruway … I felt like I could have driven it blindfolded.
The route is Thruway to Route 17/US 6 (which was always just known as “Route 17”). As soon as I exited, I could instantly feel how it was … different.
What I Found
Of course, the very first place I needed to go was to where my grandparents had lived. On the way there, I passed the uptown storefront which used to be home to the local newsstand (where I’d bike to and get a piece of gum). It sits there, barren, with a “For Rent” sign in the window.
Turning off of Main St., I passed the high school – which was out of use even when I lived there (but had been my mom’s high school). What had been simply an empty building now clearly shows how it’s now abandoned, with metal fences around to keep people out.
And, finally … the house I spent so much time in … and which lives in my memory … is now run-down, with overgrowth all around. and just isn’t the same. The exterior shingles are still (sort of) the same color, but they clearly haven’t been painted since when the house was sold.
I then headed downtown using the back road I always did. What used to be the small gas and service station is long gone. The downtown branch of the library – which was a small storefront next to the police station – is gone.
The storefront where my grandfather’s pharmacy was has changed hands yet again It was already something else after he retired. The Chester train station, from where my mom commuted into NYC, and I also took the train a couple of times, still stands there, but the rails have been long since ripped up and replaced with a cycling path.
Two Chesters
After that, I stopped to eat and reflect, trying to resolve the dual images I now had of Chester – what existed in memory and the reality in front of me. I’d taken this trip thinking I would get a chance to see “home” again. Instead, I would be leaving Chester to return home.
Everything there still has that wonderful “small town vibe”, but … it’s not where I grew up. Not any more.
