My Cape Cod Vacations, Circa 1965: Part Two

Having survived the beach at Cape Cod and once everybody freshened up, we hit the road hit the road to do a little sight seeing. There was a lot to chose from: trampolines, go-carts, Storyland. You name it, all were close by. We weren't too far from the center of Hyannis, so that's where we would often go.

Hyannis was like a lot of towns in the 60's: bustling, with a generous allotment of newsstands, pharmacies and department stores. Since this was Cape Cod, it had also had other stores and attractions unique to the area.

One attraction Hyannis had was another penny candy store. This candy store didn't have the charm of the other store. It was more brightly lit and it was set up with a large table in the middle of the room on which all the various boxes of candy were laid out. A person would pick up a basket in one corner and walk around to the adjoining corner, filling the basket as they went. This was a big mistake.

Without the buffer of another party between me and the candy, I had the basket overflowing in no time. Even allowing for the candy Dad made me put back, I still left with two small bags stuffed full. With my sweaty, sticky hands clasped around the tops of the bags, we were off to to other stores.

We would work our way down Main Street popping in and out of various places, most of which held little or no interest to me. Gradually Mom and my sisters would head in one direction. Dad, Steve and I would head in another...usually ending up at the mini golf.

The mini golf in the center of Hyannis was pretty low tech, nothing like today's courses. There was a spinning wind mill, a spinning water wheel and a blinking light bulb at the top of a eight foot light house. Everything else was stationary, like stacked barrels or an Indian shading his eyes as he looked off into the distance (probably looking for his ball). It was fine by me though. I thought it was pretty cool. And when it was nighttime, it was almost magical.

Playing mini golf would take quite a bit of time. One reason it took a long time was that it was a full eighteen holes. Another reason was because I stunk. Most of the time was taken up with either my multitudes of swings, or was spent looking for where my ball went when it invariably bounced off the wooden perimeter. Steve addressed it with the expected patience of any typical older brother. That is to say, none at all.

Dad did the usual Dad type stuff, like accidentally nudging my ball closer to the hole with his foot or "forgetting" to include most of my strokes. All this only served to inflame Steve more. Still, I always lost anyway. Usually by a lot. But I had a good time...especially if Dad played too. Steve could take comfort in knowing I had to cheat to lose. So, it worked out for all of us.

By the time we were done, the girls had caught up with us and we would all walk a little further down to the Planter's Peanut store where a life-size Mr. Peanut stood outside (assuming "life-size" for Mr. Peanut meant around six feet). You could smell the peanuts from outside. The store was warm inside from a couple of old tumblers roasting the peanuts.

Afterward, we would go back to the car and head off to a couple of gift shops or souvenir stores. Usually it would be either Treasure Island or the Barefoot Trader.