So I arrive at downtown law firm to take care of a little business; I’ve never been there, I don’t know this firm, and I figure that I’ll be waiting a while, so I’ve brought a book, The Buccaneers, an unfinished novel by Edith Wharton. I open the novel in the waiting room, and read the first sentence. “It was the height of the racing-season at Saratoga.”
Turns out the whole first chapter is set in 1870’s Saratoga, and I am reveling in its depiction when I am shown into a conference room for the next stage of waiting. I settle in, and as I open my book, I look around. On the opposite wall hangs a signed print of Michael Geraghty’s “Racing at Historic Saratoga.”
I dip back into my book; as the scene shifts from Saratoga to New York City, the lawyer walks in, introduces himself, and gives me a sheaf of papers to sign. He notices in some paperwork that I am from Saratoga. “Oh, Saratoga! I love it there. I’ve gone up a few times with friends. Do you ever go to the races?”
Yes, pretty regularly, grew up there, big fan.
“We have this friend, he’s a trainer, great guy. We see him when we go up.”
Oh, really? Sounds fun. What’s his name?
“Rick Schosberg. His wife is a hell of a tennis player. Do you know him?”
Fortunately our transaction is not of a terribly complicated nature, as he’s far more interested in talking about racing than in explaining this paperwork. “Yeah, that’s my Saratoga print over there. Love it. Bought it up there.”
“No, I don’t own any horses. Would love to, but with three kids, you know, lot of money…”
Yes, I do. Of course.
“You going to Saratoga this summer?”
Yep, in a week or so.
“Say hi to Rick for me, will you?”
Papers signed, transaction concluded, I head out into late afternoon downtown sunshine. I’m walking over the Brooklyn Bridge, but my mind is 220 miles to the north. Two more weeks…
To see and purchase Michael Geraghty’s work, visit his website.