Three Jewish Farm Boys in the Catskills in the Depression
I’d like to fold time like an accordion. “It will be fine,” I’d like to tell them.
I have been time tunneling in the Catskills, going to this pile of stones or that overgrown acre of land, sometimes with an old postcard or photo, trying to envision structures that are no longer there: A grand hotel on a mountaintop; a lakeside changing room; a summer camp for boys where, in the early 1900s, the teenage Lorenz Hart perhaps tossed aroun…