To the editor:

From humble beginnings of little more than an alpine pond, Lake Tear of the Clouds on Marcy’s perch, Shatemuc cuts through the Empire State from the tallest of the tall, tall peaks toward the city that never sleeps, from mountain height to the sea, a river we owe our history.

A history of discovery whose river bears the explorer’s namesake, Hudson recorded tales of encounters with the many tribes of the Algonquin, caught in a world in transition they were forced west, their villages too soon forgotten.

A valley whose fertile soil is so mineral rich they aptly named it black magic. The river’s faithful strength fueled industry as our cities grew along her length.

No history would be complete without noting the misery her torrents would bring people forced to flee. Nor of man’s use that makes one teary when a contaminated life source we become weary.

A land worth fighting for, Saratoga battlefield canons poised on her shores. West Point cadets drill on her beautiful vistas, and the story is still told of the chain that crossed a river in the war of independence. Perhaps prophetic of freedom’s demands once defined, would later divide a sentinel, a country as North and South took sides. The river and liberty’s history would be incomplete without mention of the arsenal at Watervliet, where big guns were forged that made battleships roar, democracy at war.

Much more could be said of schools of artists inspired, toils and plans of bridges that span, spring stripers run, and all the joy the river brings. It seems we need more than a few rhymes since, as flows the river, so flows our times.

John Sweeney

brotherjohnsministrycompleteinchrist.com

Troy