This is the time of year (in horse racing anyway) when, as you reach a certain age, you realize just how difficult it is to keep time from slipping past us.

Old friends reemerge while others disappear or pass away.

Acquaintances become friends as mutual admiration takes hold.

Saratoga has (seemingly), mastered at least the illusion that time, while still slipping away can do so at a much slower rate.

To enter the mystery of timelessness is to enter into the sanctuary of the here and now, where we are given a chance at every instant (or… say every 25 minutes) to begin our lives again.

Not one of us is perfect, and regrets press upon us all.

But the horse racing universe (see Saratoga) is merciful, one in which unlimited opportunities for new beginnings are in the very essence of everything.

It’s been written that beauty fades, governments can collapse, and civilizations turn to ruin.

But for six glorious weeks in a small town in upstate New York, the allure remains, administrations are strong and cultures thrive.

It was Aristole who said; Nature abhors a vacuum. Perhaps- just not in Saratoga.

Until next year my friend, when we meet again.