A Long Day

I should be writing about the wonderful Christmas that just finished, and I likely will another time. But today was absorbed with getting Sam's impacted wisdom teeth removed. I can't say it went well, I can only say that it went.

This ordeal started a few weeks back when his regular dentist asked if it was OK to take a full mouth scan. How do you answer a question like that? Do they think I'm going to say "No"? If it were for me, I probably would, or at least I might haggle about the price. But it's different when it's one of the kids. So, they took the scan and, lo and behold, it showed four impacted wisdom teeth. Like most dentists I guess, they wouldn't remove them. I instead had to bring him to an oral surgeon. This meant checking with my insurance company.

Checking with my insurance company is always an ordeal. I wouldn't mind it as much if I could at least get a consistent answer as to what's covered. Talking to three different people yielded three different answers. I'm pretty sure nothing before the first two thousand dollars is covered, but not to worry- it "gets applied toward his deductible" (as long as it's an in network doctor and I have a referral, etc, etc, etc.), which is another way of saying you're not covered. And even if you were, they definitely will not cover "extras" like anesthesia. He has four impacted wisdom teeth- three that haven't broken through the gums, and the insurance company considers anesthesia an "extra"? Well, you have to play the cards you're dealt- no mater how the deck is stacked. So, we made an appointment at the closest in-network oral surgeon- a mere 40 miles away- not bad if you live in Alaska, which we don't.

Sam and I drove down for the initial consultation last Friday. We got there about a half hour early, which was a good thing since it took all of that to initial, sign and date the reams of policies and disclaimers they handed me. This reminded me of years ago when Helaina was an infant and she had to get her first vaccinations. They made me read and sign paperwork that gave every possible consequence of going through with the vaccination (which is required by law), up to, and including, death. The paperwork I signed off on on Friday left out "death", but that's about all they left out.

After signing off on the papers for half an hour, they made Sam and I watch a "short" video in a room the size of a closet. A small closet. Above the TV screen was a poorly printed out sign that said that taking videos "even with a cell phone" in their office is against their policy,  and is "strictly forbidden". This seemed odd to me. It never would have occurred to me to take a video before reading this sign. Now, even though I had no clue as to why someone would want to, I was wondering why they wouldn't allow it. It made me uncomfortable. I was tempted to take a photo of the sign, but figured this could be too easily misconstrued and while not technically a video, it might get us kicked out. Anyway, all of this went out the window once their video started up.

Their video was done in the same format as the movie they make you watch when you have jury duty. The jury duty video has two actors: one actor plays Knowledgeable Judge, the other plays Ignorant Citizen. Ignorant Citizen asks ignorant questions and the judge politely and calmly scoffs and informs the Citizen. In the version we watched in the Doctor's closet, one actor played Knowledgeable Oral Surgeon, the other actor played Ignorant Patient (i.e.: Us). Otherwise, the format was identical. Basically, the only point of this video seemed to be to reiterate all of the awful things I had just signed off on, except this was presented in a video format. Even more disturbing was that the guy playing the Oral Surgeon is the guy from the Toyota commercials. Is this ethical? They couldn't get an actual doctor to commit to the stuff this guy was saying? Sam sat watching and listening with that frozen grimace he gets when he's stressed out. Even I couldn't find things to make light of in that video. At least they weren't shoving a camera down the patient's mouth.

From there, we met the doctor. He showed us the x-rays Sam's dentist had sent down and talked for a few minutes, but all I, and I'm pretty sure Sam, could think about, was that video.

Next, we went to make the appointment for the removal. I sat down with the bookkeeper to go through yet more paperwork, including once again going over my insurance and what was, or more likely, wasn't covered. This woman was the only non-cheery person in the office. When I told her who I had for insurance, she just rolled her eyes. The first opening they had was for the day after Christmas (today). We left with prescriptions to be filled and taken before his next visit.

Today, we drove down again, making better time than we had last Friday. By the time we got there, Sam was getting pretty groggy from the medication he had taken before we left. We took a seat in the small waiting room- and waited. The time for his appointment came and went, and Sam rested his head on my shoulder as the medicine continued to kick in. More time passed. I had visions of them asking us to come back another time and Sam having to go through this all over again. But finally, they came to get him, and stopped me from following him into the doctor's office. I hadn't expected, nor wanted to watch. But I had expected to be there for him when it came time for him to get the I.V.  I knew he was pretty nervous about this part of it, being all too familiar with I.V.'s from his many MRIs. But they wouldn't let me in. It must be another one of their policies.

Sam was in with the surgeon for about an hour, after which he slept in a chair. Finally, when he was able to at least barely keep his eyes open and he could kind of, sort of, stand, we headed out to the van- me supporting Sam as best as I could. From there it was the 40 mile ride home.

Sam was in a lot of pain this afternoon. He rarely complains about things like this, but when he says things to himself like "I wish I never had this swelling", and dabs his teary eyes with a stuffed animal in a way you're not supposed to notice, you know it's pretty bad for him. And the swelling is much worse than I saw with his sisters, but of course I wouldn't say that to him. Instead I tried to play up the ice cream and Popsicles, for whatever that was worth. And I gave him a game and a stuffed animal that he didn't get for Christmas, as a reward and a distraction. He did great, all things considered. Even the twenty minutes on/ twenty minutes off with the ice packs were taken in stride.

Tonight, about an hour or so before bedtime, Sam got sick to his stomach. This was just to make the day even more grueling for him. He's tired and medicated as much as they'll allow, and now he's finally sleeping.

So, I can't say that it went well today. Hopefully tomorrow I'll be able to.

Merry Christmas From My Desktops...

Another Christmas Eve

Sam has written his annual Christmas Eve letter to Santa, and I'm sad to see that getting his wisdom teeth out is on his mind tonight... tonight of all nights. But I don't blame him. It's on my mind too.

As I write this, Sam has been in bed for a couple of hours now. I'm not sure he's asleep. The others have been upstairs for over an hour. I'm certain they're not asleep. Santa has finally finished crashing around downstairs- first decorating the tree, then putting the presents under it and stuffing and hanging the stockings- before writing a letter back to Sammy and then finally doing the dishes and sitting down to listen to the silence.

As soon as the gremlin(s) quite down upstairs, Santa will head up to leave some candy on the boys' nightstand and on the table in the hall- proof that he had been there and hadn't forgotten them, just like he had done for me a lifetime ago.

It's been requested that Santa not enter the girls room tonight for fear that he may get injured or lost- likely both. Santa, being the wise man that he is, has no intention of going in that room. It's been too long a day and in another five minutes, it will be Christmas. Soon it will be time to start all over again.

Scrooge

I love this movie. I think I have three different versions of "The Christmas Carol" on DVDs around here- actually, four if you count that Mr. Magoo cartoon. This version runs just over an hour and twenty minutes and in my no account opinion, it is by far the best version out there.

The first time I saw this was many, many, many, years ago, in the darkness of my childhood bedroom. I must have been about ten at the time and while it may not have been Christmas eve, it was close. We had a small mini TV that somehow foolishly ended up in my room. I remember watching this late at night with the lights off and the sound turned way down. I don't remember if I was under the blankets while I watched it, but I feel like I should have been. It totally gave me the creeps. It still does. This movie was made for watching in a dark room, late at night. The sharp black and whites, and long, foreboding shadows are perfectly fitted to my idea of the era. There's a colorized version of this, but it doesn't interest me at all.


Nobody looks like a better Scrooge to me than Alastair Sim- from his sneering and arrogant greed at the beginning of the story, through his mounting fear and regret, and finally through his sorrow, joy and redemption at the end.

I'm fully aware that you can see the reflection of a stage hand in the mirror toward the end, but it would take more than that to ruin it for me. Enjoy.

Christmas Shopping

I miss shopping at Ames. Ames was a department store about five miles from our home. It was similar in style to a Target, but in my mind, it was somehow better. It had that "lived in" look. Ames was at one end of a plaza and a grocery store was at the other. Often, on Friday nights, we would stop either on our way to, or our way from, grocery shopping- with a side trip to the news stand that stood in between them. The local Ames store closed years ago when the entire chain went bankrupt. This happened despite a healthy subsidy provided by our family throughout those years. We shopped there all year long, but we shopped there a lot at Christmastime.

Not ours, but close.

I particularly miss Christmas shopping at Ames. I especially miss taking my kids there to pick out Christmas presents for their mom. This adventure usually took place at night, which for some reason, seemed to add to the excitement. We would all bundle up and pile into the freezing cold mini-van for the short, ten to fifteen minute drive. Along the way we would look at Christmas lights and listen to Christmas carols. When we arrived, we would head en masse into the brightly lit store and begin our search. Usually the kids would scour the toys first, studying each one, and dreaming about what they hoped they might get for Christmas. Eventually, we would wander over to the Jewelery and Women's Department.

Everything in those departments was scrutinized as well. Sometimes the perfect gift was found right away, but more often than not, it took a lot of searching to find just the right thing. Sometimes a large, sparkly broach would be selected. Sometimes it would be a necklace made of over-sized, brightly colored beads. Often the perfect gift would be a sweater- the more festive, the better. The best sweaters had scenes on them: dancing reindeer or Santas, Christmas trees with over-sized ornaments hanging from the branches and brightly wrapped presents underneath, fuzzy snowflakes of various sizes falling around a colorful village scene- each sweater reflected the joy of the holiday season in it's own subtle way.

Once everyone had picked out their gift, we would head to the front registers- the kids skipping and giggling as if they had just found some buried treasure and they were now struggling to keep it a secret- which in a way, I guess was true. From there, we would head back out to the freezing cold van to drive home- going "the scenic route" so we could take in more Christmas lights and Christmas music and talk about the perfect presents they had just picked out.

The best thing about the whole adventure was their excitement- not only in having found the perfect gift, but their excitement in wrapping their gifts, and putting those hidden treasures under the tree and then watching with pride as each of their presents were opened.

The whole adventure was a lot of fun- at least as much for me as it was for the kids. Probably more. Boy, I sure miss that store.

A New Family Tradition

For the first time in I don't know how long, the whole family was together last night. And since it is so close to Christmas, what better way to take advantage of  the time together than doing a little shopping and having a movie night!

So, Helaina, Rachael, Jake and I made a quick stop at the grocery store and then off to the liquor store to enjoy the bright lights and shiny bottles. Then it was back home, where we dimmed the lights and gathered around the TV to watch that feel-good holiday classic, "Drive".  Within minutes, we were all under the spell of that old Hollywood magic- where we were whisked off to a simpler, happier time- and strapped into that sentimental roller coaster some call "Love".

We laughed together. We cried together. And in the end, lessons were learned- lessons about love, about life... and about the true meaning of Christmas!

Yes, it's moments like these that really brings a family together.

Another Change of Pace

Dental Update

The sharp pain coming from my upper rear molar has now turned into a dull, throbbing ache. I'm taking this as a positive sign.

Things I Miss

I miss hearing violin music in the house.
I miss hearing trumpet music in the house.
And I wish I heard more singing around the house.

Mimi

When Jake was a toddler, his word for snowman was "mimi". I'm not sure what this has to do with anything, but it's another one of those things I think about.

Priority Mail

I ordered a Christmas gift for one of my kids and somehow, instead of it being delivered to me here in sunny New England, the tracking number I was given shows it's "Out For Delivery" somewhere in a town called Sitka, Alaska. Not to worry though, I generated driving directions in case I need to go pick it up. Luckily it's a short 3,878 mile one way trip.

A Near Miss

Stories From My Youth

When I was young, my hometown would occasionally hold a small annual carnival. This carnival was held in the parking lot of the local high school and it consisted of only the rides they could cram onto that small space- no concessions, no formal midway, just a bunch of rides in a crazy-quilt pattern determined by the least amount of space necessary to move around them.

I never had much use for this fair. It involved going outside. It involved dealing with people, many people in fact- to the point of having to deal with a mob, all jammed into this haphazard mess. This also meant that it potentially required some amount of socialization. None of this held any appeal to me. So, every year when this carnival came around I would barely notice, if I noticed at all- preferring instead the comfort of my own home. That is, until the summer after my junior year of high school.

That summer, on a Saturday night, I was somehow dragged to one of these fairs by a friend now long forgotten. I don’t remember much about that night other than the lights and the noise. And the girls. The girls made up for everything else. How did my friend meet these strange, intriguing creatures we were now socializing with? To this day, it’s still a mystery to me. But it was better not to ask questions that night, and instead just enjoy the moment- which I did until well into the night.

I remember heading home late, much later than I normally would, which, as I mentioned, happened almost never. And I remember being on top of the world. I remember walking into the darkness of my parents bedroom, which was lit only by the glow of their TV set. And what I remember most was being lit into by Dad. Anybody who knew Dad might question that this actually happened, being as it was so contrary to his nature. But believe me, it did. I was met with an onslaught of overly personal questions such as, “Where was I?” and “Why didn’t I call?”. Naturally, I took great offense at this, as I would if it happened today. What was the matter with him? I hardly ever did something like this. Clearly, CLEARLY, he was against me having fun. I didn’t deserve to be treated this way! Couldn’t he see I was an Adult?

Refusing to be treated like a child, I turned and stomped away, declaring they had seen the last of me and that I was leaving and never coming back! I muttered off into the darkness of our backyard where I perched myself behind my mother’s garden wall... and I stewed. I’ll show them, I thought. I don’t need them... until finally, after a couple of hours- when my brain couldn’t hold any more of my justifiable self-righteousness, I decided it was time to sneak back into the house and get a good night’s sleep. There would be plenty of time to plot my independence tomorrow.

When I got to my room, there was a note from Dad left on my bed. I’m not sure how he knew I would be back, but there it was. He was apologizing for having blown up at me but he explained that it was out of love and concern. He was more eloquent than that, but that was the gist of it. I felt awful (and still do). I had screwed up big time.

The next day, I was walking down the stairs as Mom was vacuuming at the landing. I stopped and looked up at her through the balusters as she stared silently at the floor, silently away from me. I apologized for the night before, for hurting her and for being a jerk (or something that added up to the same thing). Mom acknowledged the apology, saying something that I don’t remember. But I remember there being tears in her eyes. And I obviously still carry a part of this with me, even though it was so long ago.

I’ve thought of this many times over the years, about how you can go from such a high to such a low in the blink of an eye. I've thought about how how you can so easily hurt the people you love with unintentional thoughtlessness. I’ve thought about what things were like from my perspective, and what things were like from Mom and Dad’s perspective. And as I’ve gotten older, the intensity of both perspectives has hardly changed at all- except that maybe there have been more layers added to it, along with an even deeper understanding of where my parents were coming from.

I’m not far from the age my parents were then, but I can still remember the excitement I felt that night coming home from the fair. And if I’ve learned anything from this over the years, it’s this: Stay away from girls. They'll only get you in trouble.

Holiday Rush

Photo courtesy of Helaina

We got our Christmas tree last minute this year- not last minute meaning right before Christmas, but last minute meaning within hours after discussing when we were going to get our tree. This has to be the fastest turnaround for us ever- from the time the decision was made to get the tree, to finishing up the decorating and getting Jake back to school couldn’t have been more than four or five hours- tops. It kind of had the quality of a movie being fast forwarded through the whole thing- running through the fog at the tree farm, hacking down trees, rushing it home and into the house and throwing ornaments and tinsel on it, all before jumping back into the car to get Jake back to school. And while I would have preferred it to last longer, when it comes to spending time time together, I definitely prefer quality over quantity- though I like it when it’s both.

Another photo courtesy of Helaina

Change of Pace

 Some people don't like this song, but I do. I especially like this take.

Thanksgiving Rundown

Thanksgiving is typically a time for our family to get together to catch up on the past and make plans for the future. The meal offers an excuse to sit around the table together and enjoy each others company- something that happens with less and less frequency. It's also the start of the holiday season and thoughts for getting and decorating a tree are discussed in relaxed conversations that take place somewhere between the main meal and desert, as people stretch back and relax and listen and talk, and think about how good it is to be together. At least, that's how it is most years. This year was a little different.

I took Wednesday off from work- the excuse being that I could get a little Christmas and food shopping done. But the reality was that it left me free to be "on call" for when Jake let me know to pick him up from college- which turned out to be around 10:30. After getting Jake, we headed home with his laundry and his sore throat, for which we made a doctor's appointment later that afternoon (the throat that is, not the laundry). Before the appointment, Jake took a two hour nap while I picked up Rachael from her  work and then put out decorations and baked pies and party mix for the guests that ultimately wouldn't be coming to visit after tomorrow's dinner.

After Jake's nap and after his doctor's appointment, we went to the local CVS and waited for them to fill his prescription. In CVS time, this took "10 to 15 minutes". In real world time, it was close to an hour. We headed home in the darkness and I finished the last of my baking for the night.

I awoke at 6:00 to a bright, sunny Thanksgiving morning and I crawled out of bed to prepare the three turkeys- one big one for our tiny oven, and two small ones for the smoker (which was likely to be at least an all day affair). I had planned to do this figuring we would be having guests later, and since we would be around all day, it would be the perfect time. Plus, I like making soup from the smoked turkeys- even though I have more in the freezer than I know what to do with. An hour so later, as I was wrapping up, Jake came downstairs having had an awful nights sleep. There was some dispute as to whether this was due to his sore throat, his sweat pants or his crummy mattress but it seems likely it was a combination of all three. He went back to sleep on the couch. Soon after, Sam came down and busied himself quietly so as not to wake his brother.

Midmorning was the usual brief calm before the storm- the turkeys had been consigned to their fate and it wasn't quite time to assemble the second tier players of mashed potatoes, yams and other various vegetables. Rachael had expressed a desire to cook a couple of vegetables, which was more than fine with me. This would have to wait until after she and Jake made a brief visit to the high school football game.

Before Rachael and Jake left for the game, Helaina and Paul stopped by for a quick visit. They would be heading out to spend the day with his parents and could only stay long enough to say "Hi". So, after a brief visit, they left, as did Rachael and Jake, and I puttered in the kitchen trying to figure out if the turkey would be getting done too soon or too late.

When Rachael and Jake got back, Jake flopped on the couch again and Rachael went to work in the kitchen. Our kitchen is pretty tiny. Sometimes it feels too small for one person, so two people trying to cook and meet a deadline can be, shall we say, stressful. This was definitely the case- to the point where I felt my time was better spent sitting in the living room and staring at the rug.

Finally, we gathered at the table with our food. Like every year, we went around the table, each of us giving thanks before eating. Unlike every year, a member of the family wasn't able to be there. I must say that it came as no great surprise, indeed, I've been expecting it- for years. But that is not to say that I was prepared for either the profound sense of loss, or for the stark realization that the crowd around our too small dining room table would slowly be thinning out over the coming, not too distant years.

Before long, the meal was over. Rachael left to visit with some friends. Jake collapsed again on the couch, losing his struggle to fatigue and frustration. I would be bringing him back to school early the next morning. The deserts would stay uneaten on the porch where they had been left to cool.

With the house even quieter than it was before, I stood at the front door and stared out at the now greying sky and watched as the growing wind scattered the dry leaves away from the barren trees. As I stood there, I wondered what it was I was waiting for.

Holiday Shopping

Is there anything more depressing than being at the mall before it opens, waiting to do some Christmas shopping and listening to Christmas carols- alone?

No, there isn't.

Life Goes On

You would think in the three weeks or so since I last posted that I would have plenty to say. I don't. The sad thing is in all of that time, I've done nothing of interest. The weeks have been packed with exciting everyday activities such as: working, collecting the trash, doing laundry, mowing the lawn, trying to figure out what to make for dinner, grocery shopping, washing dishes, paying bills, and my personal favorite: trying to stay awake until bedtime. This time of year brings the added seasonal excitement of cleaning the gutters, raking leaves, and washing and putting in storm windows.

Part of my problem is I feel the last vestiges of Autumn slipping away and with it, the inevitable onset of winter. The holidays seem right around the corner and like every other year, I feel totally unprepared. All of this is driven home even harder by the time change last weekend that now allows it to get dark before dinnertime. Between the weight of winter approaching and the holidays, I feel like the walls are slowly closing in, and with them, all of the clutter.

Helaina, Jake and I picking up around the house.

The one bright spot in all of this is the family got to be together this weekend, albeit briefly. I picked Jake up mid-day Saturday. He spent the night which gave me time to run errands and go grocery shopping with him, and later, he helped me clean. Sam came along for our usual Saturday run of grocery shopping and getting pizza, while tying in a visit to the Rock and Mineral Show. Helaina swung by in the afternoon and visited and helped weed through the jackets that have building up over the last many years. And though Rachael worked most of the day on Saturday, there was an overlap at dinnertime that allowed me to cook for whomever was interested, before the girls ended up going in their separate directions.

Today, the weather was beautiful. Rachael left early for her commitments and I brought Jake back to school, reloaded with food and supplies to likely get him through the next couple of weeks until Thanksgiving. Helaina left for her apartment shortly after I got back.

And now, barely after 4:30, it's dark outside. The house is quite with everyone back to living in their own separate worlds.

And the walls are closing in.

All the Information I Need

Foreboding

Have you ever been walking along and then spotted someone or something and realized you had a dream about it the night before? It just happened to me. I was walking through the grocery store at lunch time and did a double take as I glanced past an end display of condiments. I realized right away that I had a very profound dream last night, somehow involving steak sauce.

In my dream, someone, and I can't remember who, was talking to me in a very deliberate tone and whatever they had been saying, finished it with, "...and don't forget to bring the steak sauce." And then they walked away.

The only other thing I remember, is me saying, "Wait! What brand? WHAT BRAND????". I got no answer.

It's left me feeling very unsettled ever since.

Happy Birthday to Me

This picture could easily been labeled, "Looking for my lost keys". Happily, it wasn't the case. Instead, it was another birthday spent together picking apples. A little colder than in years past, but no less fun. Thanks go to the whole family for making the time for us all to be together.

Morning Commute

For the first time in all of my years of commuting, I saw what looked like a dead bear on the side of the highway. Between the lifting darkness of the early morning, the dense fog, and me driving eighty miles an hour, it was a little hard to tell. I suppose it could have been a blanket or a wad of fabric that blew off of someones car, but then, why was there a policeman stopped and standing over it? Then again, it could have been someones body, that for some odd reason, was lying at the edge of the median along the interstate.
Strange that they would be wearing a heavy fir coat on such a mild morning, but hey, who am I to judge?

Soup's On

There's something about the smell of hot vegetable soup, drifting up from the lunchroom on a certain kind of chilly and rainy day. It's a smell that takes me back to my old elementary school cafeteria. Good old Harris School- where years of my youth were spent trying get through life without being noticed...usually ending in abject failure.

It started in kindergarten, with my earliest recalled public humiliation being the day I fell asleep during nap-time on a section of the large, horseshoe shaped window seat. I awoke to see the rest of the class sitting on the remainder of the semi-circle- staring at me. I have a vague recollection of trying to come up with some lame excuse, like I wasn't really asleep. But I'm sure this only helped to label me as not only lazy, but a liar as well.

It was only the first of many more incidents to follow: getting called out in the cafeteria by my teacher for not finishing the so called "chipped beef", screaming out an oral report in third grade with the teacher at the back of the room continually raising her hand because I "wasn't being loud enough", having to stand up and sing a solo at a "Glee Club" rehearsal (which, by the way, God only knows why I was in Glee Club- either it must have been required, or the alternative was likely a sports activity- which held the potential for even greater humiliation),  or having to put our "fun" art project up on the wall at the front of the classroom (which in my case was a self portrait), so it could be brutally critiqued by my "colleagues".

The list goes on and on... all the way up to, and including, the very last day of sixth grade, when I broke my arm at recess. No doubt this, like all of the other infractions before it, went into the scrapbook they called "My Permanent Record"- which served as a repository for all of my failings and personality flaws that were collected during the years of my incarceration.

All these memories and more come rushing back to me as I stand in the cold air at the stairs outside of the break room and take in the smell of the vegetable soup.

God, I hate that smell.

Our Vacation, Epilogue

Photographic proof of nothing but non-stop fun at scenic  

Cape Cod, Massachusetts:

Our Vacation, Part Ten

By rights, we could stay one more night at the Cape. But years ago, we found it wasn't worth it. By the end of vacation, we're all tired and ready to head home. The times we stayed the extra night, we found that between being pushed to pack up and leave by check-out time, and the nightmarish traffic, it made an already grueling trip that much worse.

Back at the old cottage, when the kids were little, we would walk down to the end of the road, down some timber stairs and visit the pond we never swam in- just to say goodbye before we left. This is the same pond we would say hello to when we first arrived. After that goodbye visit, we would finish packing up the van- which back then meant cramming it full of all the crap we bought- mostly at every Christmas Tree Shop on the Cape, before heading out. On our way, we  would stop to eat out before going home.

This year was a little different. This year, we made an attempt to go to Mayflower Beach in the morning  before leaving. Even though we left at what would be the usual time to go to our beach, apparently this is way too late if you want to go to the Mayflower Beach. Traffic was backed up all the way down the road and was being diverted away from the parking lot. This happens at our beach too, but usually not until mid-morning or so.

Since Mayflower was out of the question, we backtracked the couple of miles to our usual beach, where we spent the next couple of hours with just our towels and no tent. It felt weird not to have the tent with us. It felt like we snuck away without an old friend. But we were traveling light and didn't intend to be there long. And we weren't.

It was turning out to be a beautiful day, but we were ready to go home. There was one last, brief stop at the Pottery Place, before we headed back to the cottage to finish packing up.

The roof carrier that looked so deflated when we left for our vacation was now straining against the zippers, trying to burst open. The back of the van was loaded, not only with our luggage, but also the remaining food and about four tons of private real estate, in the form of rocks that we collected from the beach. We barely managed to close the back of the van and somehow squeezed everybody in, before leaving to return the key to the cottage.

This year there was no stopping at the restaurant as in years past. Like so many other places, the restaurant we used to go to was no longer there. Instead, since we realized we had about six cubic inches of free space that we hadn't anticipated, we made another stop at a Christmas Tree Shop. It seems there was some one of a kind hand lotion that they might have and since we had just about enough space to accommodate a bottle of hand lotion, this made perfect sense. Unfortunately, they didn't have any, so for good measure, we stopped one more time at Barnes and Nobel, just because that lotion-size empty space in the back of the van was bothering us, and we figured, why not plug it with a book instead? Once that had been taken care of, we got gas and headed home.

Not eating at a restaurant before we left the Cape meant that we were leaving slightly earlier than usual. This also meant that we didn't hit the crush of rush hour traffic at our usual hour into the trip. Instead, we hit it at about an hour and three quarters into the trip. This happened at the more convenient, "You feel you're so close to home, and a bathroom, that you can almost taste it" time (taste home, that is, not the bathroom). But it would be another hour and a half or so before we finally arrived into town.

It always seems a little strange getting back home after we've been away. Entering the closed up house, it feels cooler than normal. Going through the stack of mail can be both exciting and depressing. When the kids were younger, they would dig through to see if their class assignments had arrived for the soon to begin school year. That's another one of those things that was a long time ago.

Unloading the car takes so much less time than loading it, especially when you have so much help. Luggage and mementos and rocks are shuttled into various locations in and out of the house. And laundry, tons and tons of laundry, gets stacked against the washer where it will be whittled down little by little over the coming week(s).

The nice thing about leaving early and getting home on a Friday is that you have a whole weekend ahead of you; a whole weekend to mow your lawn and pay bills and go grocery shopping and to get back to the reality of what your life is really about. It gives you time to deal with the anxiety of having to go back to work in a few days, and the time to reflect on the week you just had, and to think about just how lucky you were to have had it. But mostly, it gives you the time to slow down a little for the first time since you left. And it gives you the time to go through all the of the pictures you took while you were on vacation, so you can figure out just what it was you did the past week and why it was so great.

Our Vacation, Part Nine

Today would be our last full day of vacation and that meant that whatever we wanted to do, it was "now or never". We had packed a lot in in the past week and there wasn't a whole lot left that we hadn't done already, but there was plenty that we wanted to do again. Despite a forecast the said it would be partly cloudy at best, we decided to hit the beach one more time.

Arriving at the near empty parking lot a short time later, we hauled our stuff down to the beach, and with some hesitation, set up our tent on the again soaking wet sand. We had our routine down pat- laying out the blanket, unfurling of the tent and setting it away from the hoped for sun, the kids scouring for rocks to put in the tent pockets, arranging the coolers and beach bags and towels, and finally, strategically placing the buckets and toys to stake out and extend our territory. All of this was executed flawlessly after years of practice. And with everything in place, Sam again hauled out his trusty metal detector while most of us headed down the shore to once again pillage a few more rocks.

It seemed foolish to even be attempting the beach on a day like this. The sky was covered with a high fog which colored everything grey. Looking out over the water, the arm of the Cape that extended off to the east was completely hidden and it was hard to tell where the water ended and the sky began. We weren't planning to spend the whole day so if it started to rain, it wouldn't be a huge loss. But it would be a loss just the same.

It was striking how big the waves were, and there was a steady offshore breeze- both remnants from last night's storm. I hadn't seen waves like this since the kids were little. Back then, I would hold their sides and help them jump over each incoming wave. In some ways, that was a long time ago. In some ways, it was just yesterday.

We crossed the border onto the strangely deserted private beach and made our usual haul of treasured rocks. I can only assume that the natives were staying away due the threatening skies- keeping safely within the confines of their oceanfront cottages as they spied us through their binoculars, while having their spouses call the Beach Patrol to remove the offending rift-raft (i.e.: us) from their property. This was only a guess, but having seen the demeanor of these people earlier in the week, I think it was probably accurate.

As we wandered back to the tent, the offshore breeze had managed to disperse what remained of the early morning fog, exposing an almost cloudless sky. Soon, the sun was beating down, but the breeze kept things cool. Rachael took to building her traditional sand castle before joining the others in a game of Frisbee. Remarkably, even Sam put down his metal detector long enough to join in. Eventually, everyone returned to the shore where the girls took up their positions stretched out on their towels. Sam and I went up to the swings for a bit of distraction before we came back down so he could resume his treasure hunting. Jake and I went for another walk.

There is a back path to get onto the beach that winds through the dunes and the brush and the woods. Jake and I "discovered" this years ago and I have come to think of it as our own. We've spotted rabbets up here and once or twice, bluebirds. Jake found some unusual acorns this year that I'm pretty convinced grow nowhere else in the world but here. This year, we also came upon a bench that someone had thoughtfully placed at the high spot on the dunes.

Occasionally, we'd run into other people using our trail. We've never stopped them to ask them who they were or what they were doing there. We've allowed them to go on their way figuring, hey, we're all on vacation, let's allow them this small pleasure. I, at least, always felt pretty good about myself for being so generous and giving. We spent some time walking the path and exploring and sitting on the bench before deciding to head back to the tent.

At the tent, we unpacked our lunch of sandwiches and grapes and fruit punch. A little while later, we had our second lunch of chicken nuggets, french fries and onion rings from the snack bar- all deep-fried to perfection as only a college student working a part-time summer job at a beach shack could prepare it.

After lunch, I waited for Sam to find a few more coins before it was time for us to leave.

Back at the cottage, everyone took their showers and after a few more cartoons, we decided to go to the Pottery Place to take a look around and maybe get something that we had debated on earlier in the week. Sam and Jake had some kind of dust-up earlier, due to something I can't remember. I'm sure being tired played an underlying role in whatever it was. We were reaching a point in the vacation where we knew it was almost time to go, and it was met with mixed emotions- part of you was ready to go home, to sleep in your own bed, and I'm sure for the others at least, to have the freedom to go where you wanted, when you wanted, and with whom you wanted. But the other part doesn't want to let go and wants more time. That, I think, is the part in me.

We wrapped up our visit at the Pottery Place, buying a  mug for each of the kids to be held for a "surprise" Christmas gift- the surprise likely being that I won't remember where I had stashed them by then. We headed back to the van wondering where to go next.

By now, it was late afternoon- too early to give up and head back to the cottage, but too late to get involved in a drawn out activity. Since it was approaching an early dinnertime, and since we were still on vacation, we made a second trip to the Sundae School and had ice cream one last time. From there, we headed for a quick visit to Craigville Beach.

It had been close to twenty years since we were last at Craigville Beach. We came one time in the off season, in March. Jake was a toddler and the girls- only slightly older than that. Except for only one other person on the beach that day, we were the only ones there. We collected buckets full of scallop shells, some of which fill the lamp on my desk. We hadn't been back since- not so much because it's out of our way, which it is, but mostly because we make a hefty investment in a beach sticker every year and it only covers us for the town we stay in. Craigville Beach is not in that town.

So we drove to Craigville where it was late enough that we didn't get charged and the beach wasn't especially crowded. We walked the shore and talked about what it was like when we were there those many years ago. But since it wasn't off season, and since the beach wasn't empty, we didn't find very many shells. Still, it was nice to refresh the memories of their youth and hear about what, if anything they remembered. And it was nice to walk the beach that was my Cape Cod many, many years ago.

We headed back to the cottage, first making a stop at the jewelry store where the girls ran in while the boys and I waited in the van. Eventually, Rachael drifted out and the two of us walked to the only nearby store- which happened to be a liquor store. She checked out their selection of beer. I checked out their selection of wine in personal size boxes. I had never seen this before. It seemed to be a clever way to eliminate the need of drinking out of a paper bag. I didn't get anything. Rachael did.

We had a busy, but less hectic day than some of the other days this past week. Back at the cottage, we began to gather up our accumulations from our vacation before finally relaxing. Sam finished his puzzle and enjoyed watching those TV stations that we don't get at home. I played "Cranium" with Helaina, Rachael and Jake. The day finished on a good note but eventually it was time to give up and go to bed. Tomorrow would be a day of packing and tying up loose ends before making the long drive home.

Our Vacation, Part Eight

Wednesday was another break from the beach- both because of the threatening weather as well as the fact that we were still worn out from the day before. The day started with Sam working on his puzzle and watching cartoons while the rest of us gathered our wits and and made plans for the day ahead. Soon, we were all packed into the van, heading off to Hyannis- another one of those places that we've been going to for years.

In Hyannis, despite a torrential downpour, we managed to stop at the candy store, a couple of gift type stores, a CD and poster store, the army surplus store and the sad little arcade, before heading back to the car with our candy and fudge and posters. We didn't stop at the toy store or the rock and mineral store or the min-golf. Not because we didn't want to, but because they're no longer there... which is a big reason we were all done walking around by lunch time.

After a couple of quick stops, we headed back to the cottage to re-group, get a bite to eat and make plans for the afternoon. We decided to head to Chatham.

In the past, visiting Chatham was a trip we made in the morning. Why this was, I’m not quite sure. Maybe it was because it's a little out of our way and a longer ride than it was to some of our other haunts. Back when the kids were small, no matter where we went, we had to allow plenty of time for the ride back so they could unwind before bed. But the kids were older now so we didn't have to feel as pushed for time. That, along with the end of vacation being in sight, made it no time to be nitpicky. So, off we went.

The ride felt longer than I remembered it and the traffic seemed heavier too. When we finally approached Chatham, it became abundantly clear why we used to make the trip in the morning. The place was mobbed. What was the matter with all of these people? Didn’t they realize it had rained earlier? Shouldn’t they all be at the mall? But no, apparently they all decided to go to Chatham instead. We foolishly tried to park where we usually would, but the small lot was havoc. I joined the line of vultures circling for fresh prey, but it was no use. I got spit out onto a side road only to have to follow the road back to the beginning of town, only to try it again. The next time, we tried a different lot and after going through much the same drawn out slow dance, we eventually secured a spot way at the back. And even then, we had to cut someone else off to get it. Normally I would feel bad about this, but this was vacation and I had made a pact with myself not to feel bad about anything until we got back home.

We parked the van and walked what felt like a mile to town, when who should we bump into, but Jake’s ex-girlfriend. What luck! Here we are 150 miles from home, and Jake gets a one in a million chance to see an old friend. I’m a little surprised I didn’t get introduced, but hey, I’m sure I will be next time.

When we made it to Main Street, it was even more packed than the parking lot- which only made sense if I had bothered to think about it. All of those cars had to belong to someone, and in most cases, many someones. Out on the sidewalks, throngs of people scurried mindlessly in every direction. Once we had managed to wedge ourselves into the moving crowd, followed along. We couldn't stop if we wanted to. People would bump into you or push you along. It was like being caught in a tangled mob trying to escape a burning building, only not as fun. If I made it into a store- either on purpose or by accident, I found I couldn’t get out. People would fill the aisles between me and the exit like swollen sponges and the tide of people being pushed in would block the only way out. Finally I would squeeze myself back through the crowd with a litany of insincere "Excuse me's", and spit myself back onto the sidewalk, only to start his cycle all over again.

Fighting our way down one side of the street, we were convinced there must be something worthwhile if we would just walk a little bit further. And I'm pretty sure that once upon a time, there was something more interesting down there. I clearly remember there being a toy shop and a store that sold Christmas decorations. But these stores were long gone and it soon became obvious that we were wasting our time. Even if they were still there, which they weren't, I wasn't in the mindset to enjoy them- not when the only thing going through my mind was How do I get out of here???? All of this only made getting back to the car more excruciating. We should have turned around when we had the chance. But we eventually made it through the gauntlet of tourists and back to the van. I couldn't get out of there fast enough- even though I tried.

We made it over to the Light House Beach where all of this played out again, albeit in smaller scale- the overcrowded parking lot, cars searching for prey, the circling around through side streets. Eventually, we got the van in some kind of a line or a mob or... something- at the far end of the parking lot. Cars were maneuvering and backing up in every direction. We waited what seemed like twenty minutes, but in reality was closer to twenty seconds, before I said,"To heck with this". This beach would have to wait for another lifetime. We broke ourselves out of the knot of vehicles and started to head away, passing the line of parked cars on our right. Just before we got to the end, lo and behold- an empty space! Someone had just pulled out and for once, we were in the right place at the right time. We grabbed the spot. Some people may say that this is cutting in line, but I say it doesn’t count if you don’t make eye contact. And just like the earlier parking space in town, we didn’t make eye contact.

After parking, we went down the stairs and walked the beach, collecting shells along the way. Rachael plopped herself onto the beach fairly quickly, while Helaina worked the shoreline with Jake. Sam and I searched the ridge together. We made it down to the far end of the beach where you can sometimes catch site of the occasional seal. The seal population had grown so much around here that sharks had been spotted all summer long in the area, attracted by the possibility of a seal buffet. This, apparently, had closed the beach to swimming more than once this summer- not that this mattered much to us (the swimming that is, not the seal eating part). We've never gone swimming here, just shell collecting.

The four of us went as far as the end of the peninsula, where we were lucky enough to not only see several seals, but even luckier to not see any half eaten seals being washed up on shore. There's nothing like a dead, bloated seal carcass to ruin a trip to the beach- especially when you're with Sam.

We (that is to say, "I") decided that we had gone far enough. We had already lost Rachael a ways back and the rest of us were getting tired too (plus, I wanted to avoid the possible risk of seeing any aforementioned seal carcasses).

Walking back along the shore, we searched for toenail shells to fill Helaina’s eventual lamp, but for all of this effort, there wasn't much to be found. Even Jake, who usually makes some kind of unusual discovery at this beach, came up more empty handed than usual. Still, I considered it a success since no seals, or any of us, were eaten by sharks. We continued heading back, picking up the occasional shell and eventually picking up Rachael as well.

All of us were pretty well worn out by the time we got back to the van. It had been a long, full day. So... what better time to get ice cream? After all, it was on the way back to the cottage... sort of.

Getting out of town proved to be a little easier than getting into town and after a quiet ride, we arrived at the Sundae School- yet another one of those places we’ve been going to since the kids were small. As luck would have it, we only had to circle around the parking lot once before finding a space to park. After going inside and getting ice cream, we went back out and sat at the picnic table, talking about our day and watching as the parking lot overflowed.

We finished our ice creams and headed back to the cottage, the dusk turning to darkness in the time it took us to drive back. Helaina, Rachael and I went grocery shopping after dropping the others off to relax and unwind. We would soon join them.

It would be another night of not having enough energy for playing games. We ended the day as we started it- worn out. Sam would work on his puzzle again, and later, perch himself in the recliner to once again feast in the bounty that is the Disney Channel and Nickelodeon. It wasn’t long before he went to bed. And it wasn’t long until the rest of us went to bed as well.

Thunderstorms rolled in during the night.

Our Vacation, Part Seven

Tuesday we headed out for the beach again, and again we managed to set up in our usual spot. The weather forecast had been talking about the possibility of more rain for the following day but you would never know it by how Tuesday was turning out. If anything, it was even hotter than the day before. If it was going to rain tomorrow I was hoping it would hold off long enough so we could finally play some mini-golf for Sam’s sake.

It was a beautiful beach day but it kept bothering me that it might rain tomorrow. I was thinking about this as Sam dutifully swept the area around our tent for the occasional coin. Finally, I decided we better change plans. If we stretch out the day at the beach and if it rains on Wednesday, this would put off the mini-golf until Thursday and that’s a lot to ask of Sam. So, we wrapped it up early and headed back to the cottage to get cleaned up.

It was mid-afternoon on a still beautiful day when we headed off to play golf. For years, we played in the center of Hyannis, just as I had when I was small. But when we arrived in that town a few years back, much to our dismay, the mini-golf was gone. In it’s place was a large, blokish store selling beach paraphernalia. How unique- there aren't very many of those at the Cape. Anyway, since then, we’ve gone golfing at a place called “Skull Island”.

It turned out to be a smart idea to leave the beach early. First of all, the family was reasonably rested, so having to play a game while anyone was grouchy seemed unlikely. Secondly, when we went in to get the clubs and balls, there was no crowd. Normally, we would have to wait in a line (actually more like a mob) as we waited to play, and the only thing worse than playing mini-golf with a grouchy crew is a playing with a grouchy crew after waiting in a loud, sweaty "line" only to end up in front of another grouchy crew breathing down your neck throughout the whole course. But without a crowd, we seemed to be in the clear on that score.  Everyone was in a pretty good mood. But still, sometimes even in the best of moods it’s not unusual for some of us to get tired or bored somewhere near the last third of the course. This is usually announced with a “...whatever”, as someone’s ball continues to roll past the hole with each stroke. Pretty soon, strokes are approaching double digits and then balls are being directed into the hole with a foot before they move on to the next hole dragging their club behind them. But there was none of that this time. It went pretty well.

From mini golf, we went to get something to eat- our second and last dining-out experience while on vacation. This time, it meant sitting around a table outside and eating things like chowder and cole slaw and fried clam strips and drinking soda. I don’t remember what anyone else had.

Tonight would be game night so we headed back and once again flopped down at the cottage and settled in for a low key evening. I was going to consult the to-do list but figured I would wait until after we played some games. Sam made himself at home in the recliner and again watched Spongebob (I think it was the one where Plankton was trying to steal the krabby patty formula). Helaina, Rachael, Jake and I played "Catch Phrase" up until bedtime.

Making plans for tomorrow would have to wait for tomorrow.

Our Vacation, Part Six

Though it was only Monday, there was a sense of trying to make up for lost time when it came to going to the beach. Even though it looked rainy and the weather forecast was predicting an iffy day, we packed up and headed to our usual spot. On the nearly empty beach, we set up our tent and spread out the blankets in the sand, which was still damp from the rain the day before. It wasn’t too long after we arrived that the clouds burned off and the the weather turned hot and dry. And it wasn't long after that until the beach became more and more crowded and our space was slowly being encroached upon by strangers, who for some odd reason selfishly felt that this was their beach too. I hate those kinds of people.

Most of the day was spent walking the beach and exploring the rocks and making plans for later in the day. Maybe we would do some more shopping in the afternoon. Maybe we would squeeze in some mini golf as well. There was still a lot to do, but for now, it was fun to walk along and explore the beach and our options.
When it was time to go, we did what we've done every other year, which was to stop at the snack bar to get ice creams before heading back to the car. The snack bar has been completely rebuilt since we were last here and apparently they plan on refinancing the construction solely on what they're charging for the ice creams. I miss that old snack bar.

More shopping came later that day: a stop at KMart (because nothing says “Welcome to Cape Cod” like shopping at Kmart) and then, for something completely different, we made a quick stop at another Christmas Tree Shop! Like shopping at the other Christmas Tree Shops, we came away nearly empty handed. This time though, I chalked it up to the madhouse it must have been earlier in the day, when the weather was presumed to be bad. I can’t remember whether shopping on a rainy day at the Cape is the fourth circle of Hell or the fifth circle of Hell, but if you’ve ever lived through it, you know it’s whichever one is worse. As a result of the rainy day mayhem, the shelves were in even more disarray than usual, and depending on which employee you looked at, they either had that wide-eyed “don’t hurt me” look, or they had a look that suggested they were going to hurt you. They looked exhausted and we were getting there too.

Maybe mini-golf wasn’t the best idea right now. One thing I’ve learned from past vacations is that when people are tired, doing anything competitive is not too smart. In the past, if people were tired, we would tend to get about halfway through a game before it devolved into arguments about scores and how many strokes the other person had. Pretty soon you would just be trying to get through the course before people started hitting each other with their putters.

We would do mini-golf another day.

We headed back to the cottage to have dinner and, with the exception of heading back to Hyannis to retrieve Helaina’s forgotten change purse, we laid low for the night. Sam worked on a jigsaw puzzle and watched TV. I re-learned how to play Egyptian Rat Screw and rapidly lost to Rachael and Jake while Helaina watched. It wasn't long before we all headed off to bed.

Our Vacation, Part Five

Sunday was our first full day on the Cape. The day started off cloudy and the weather was lousy, so it was going to be a day of shopping- at least to start out with. Like all of our "Shopping Days" of years past, we began the day at The Penny Candy Store. This visit, like the visit to the Christmas Tree Shop the day before, was strangely less hectic than in years past. That's not to say it wasn't fun or interesting, just more low key. From there, it was over to the mall. It was still fairly early in the day so we were able to find a parking spot in under an hour. This trip, like all of the past trips, started with browsing around Barnes and Noble, where, in their discount book section, you can find answers to all of life's most puzzling mysteries: Bigfoot, unsolved mysteries, relationships... it's all there- for $7.98 each or less. I bought a book of trivia.

We split into two teams to cover the rest of the mall more efficiently. That is to say, Jake, Sam and I covered the mall while the girls made it through one store (actually, it could have been two, but still...) We all met in the food court for lunch, delighting in the delicious bounty that only a mall food court can offer. It's always nice to be able to eat out when you're on vacation, and what better place to enjoy one of your dining out experiences than right there at the mall; enjoying a meal while accompanied by the background music of the indoor merry-go-round behind you. After feasting on some chicken-like substance, we gathered our stuff and left for another shopping adventure.

By now, the morning rain had tapered off and this opened up more options as for places to go. We weren't in beach mode at this point, so we doubled back and headed to the Pottery Place. The Pottery Place is a great place to stroll around and relax. Tucked back in the woods, it feels like a cross between a meditation retreat and an art museum. Depending on your mood, it lends itself as much to contemplation as it does to buying pottery. Jake and Sam occupied themselves by the goldfish pond while I and the others browsed around the displays of this year's creations. We ended up spending a good bit of time here, but we left empty handed- with the intention of coming back later in the week. Delaying a purchase here is always a risky proposition because everything they produce is one of a kind. If you find something you like but leave it behind, there's no guarantee that it will be there if you come back. But I guess that's true with most things in life.

We headed back to the cottage to regroup, relax a bit, consult our to-do list, and to make plans for the evening. For most of us, relaxing at the cottage meant collapsing in a bed or a chair, vegging out or reading a book. For Sam it meant watching cartoons, in this case, Spongebob (I think it was the one where Spongebob and Patrick are annoying Squidward). The folks who owned the cottage had TV channels with networks that people have actually heard of, unlike me, who only springs for the sub-sub-basic cable tv package.  This, along with mini-golf, is what "vacation" means to Sam.

After a quick bite to eat, and with everyone eventually rested (or as close as you can allow yourself when you're on a tight schedule) we headed to another Christmas Tree Shop, and then it was off for an evening stroll on Mayflower Beach.

Mayflower is on the bay side of the Cape, almost directly north across the arm of land from the Windy Beach, and it contrasts with the Windy Beach in many ways. The Windy Beach is a couple of steps away from the road and it greets you head-on with a continuous wind and the immediate water that beats against the coarse sand in perpetual waves. At the Mayflower Beach, you walk between soft, sandy dunes before you get down to the shore. When the tide is out, the beach stretches before you in long, flat plains, dotted with large tide pools that lead up to the ocean.

On this dusk of our first full day at the Cape, this is where we found ourselves- walking the beach, the low water slowly lapping back onto the shore where it would eventually reclaim the small islets that stood between the tide pools. We walked the long shore, unconsciously retracing our paths from vacations of years past. We re-lived the day and laughed and talked and made plans to play some games when we got back to the cottage later that night. The clouds that had been with us most of the day were finally breaking apart, just in time to reveal one heck of a sunset.

Our Vacation, Part Four

The key to the cottage came with a check list of all the things we were supposed to do before we left at the end of the week. Basically it amounted to: "If it looks like you were ever here, you will loose your deposit". "Great." I thought.  "I'm going to get hung on this somehow..." But I had all the time in the world before I had to worry about it. A whole week, in fact.

It took a a few tries before the door would unlock. At first, I wasn't sure we had the right place. I had visions of us walking in on some unsuspecting family who would soon find out that we had no intention of leaving until the week was over. But this was the right place and once the door was open, we blew in and unpacked in a heartbeat. It felt a little strange to me at first. The cottage we used to stay at was less than a mile away. It was the real cottage to me- it had an almost "full" kitchen that was just a step or two above camping, two bedrooms-one of which housed three of the kids, the other one where Sam would sleep on an air mattress on the floor, a small living room (i.e.: the master bedroom) and, for better or worse, a small, centrally located bathroom. Basically- a real cottage.

This place was arguably bigger than our house. Granted that's not saying much, but still... It had a dining room that was large enough for a person to walk around the entire table. The kitchen had an actual dishwasher. There were three bedrooms which meant that for the first time in nearly twenty years, I wouldn't be spending the vacation sleeping on the living room floor. And best of all, in addition to the regular bathroom (which also was bigger than the one at home), there was a half bath off the master bedroom. This vacation was getting better by the minute.

We set up all of our stuff until it was a close approximation of home- except without the overwhelming clutter, then we ran a few quick errands. The rest of the time was spent having dinner and relaxing and making a to-do list for the week ahead, and making plans for later in the evening. Sam made himself comfortable and settled into a recliner to watch TV. Several games that were brought along were taken out and stacked in the living room- just in case we had the energy to play any of them when we got back

After dinner, we headed back out again in what had become our routine over the past years of vacations. The first stop was at the nearest Christmas Tree Shop. It was a short ride to get there and once we arrived, we all piled into the store, prepared to find all the stuff that had been waiting two years for us to buy. Strangely, this wasn't happening. I'm not sure what the problem was, but none of us were finding all that much of interest. In years past, it was difficult to fit all the shopping bags filled with the junk we bought into the van, but not this time. Try as we might, we were just not fulfilling our self-imposed quota of purchases. Why was this? Has the quality of their crap somehow diminished? This seemed unlikely, since this has never been a consideration before... and we have a house full of it for proof. Perhaps this was the problem. We already have everything they're selling packed into our tiny home. The appeal of buying double or triple (or more- in the case of candles) of what we already own, was not doing it for us. How strange. Perhaps when we stop at the other stores later in the week, we'll feel differently. For now, we left the store and headed to the beach.

The last outing of our first day has always been to go to the Windy Beach. This is not the real name of the beach, it's just the clever name we gave it years ago since it's always windy, and, it's a beach. We've never gone swimming there. We walk the beach and find shells amongst the seaweed and dead horseshoe crabs scattered along the shoreline. Helaina mostly goes after the toenail shells and Jake scours mostly for the scallop shells. Strangely, we seldom find rocks here, but there are other places to find those. Occasionally we fly kites, as Rachael did this year- with some effort.

I've always enjoyed taking pictures of the kids at this beach. In the evening, the low angle of the sun casts long, sharp shadows that contrast with the light- which is especially golden. The sunsets at the Mayflower beach may be more dramatic, but here, there is something both sad and comforting in the melancholy fading afternoon light that hints at the approach of autumn. It seems well suited to my nature.

As night filtered in, we headed back to the van where we would brush off our feet before the drive back to the cottage. The games we left out earlier would have to wait for another night.

Our Vacation, Part Three

I had given Sam a metal detector for a birthday present quite a while ago. I think he may have expressed a passing desire for one at some point, probably because he saw someone using one in a cartoon, but it’s been a while and I can’t remember the exact circumstances. Wherever the spark came from, it was at least in part, in very large part, a ploy to get him out of the house. This worked for a while, but gradually Sam lost interest, and the metal detector sat in the corner of the dining room gathering dust ever since. I figured it was forgotten, but apparently not. When Sam heard we were going on vacation, it was his idea to bring the metal detector along.

So there was Sam, behind our tent on the beach, pacing slowly in a meandering circle, patiently sweeping the metal detector side to side as he walked, hoping to find some buried treasure. Every so often the detector would beep and Sam would take his plastic shovel and scoop up some sand. In the time I had gone for my walk, Sam had developed a pretty good system. After scooping the sand, he would first wave the metal detector over the hole and if he wasn’t getting a beep, he would hold it over his shovel full of sand. If he got a beep, he would slowly sift the sand until something showed up, otherwise it was back to the hole where he would start all over again.

Sam kept it up for quite a while but I could see that he was starting to get discouraged. He had been at this for over an hour and his booty consisted of a couple of bottle caps, the occasional piece of crumpled up foil, and for some odd reason, a couple of cigarette butts (which, thankfully, he had the good sense not to pick up). We had a little while to go before we could pick up the key to the cottage, but his pacing was getting slower and slower and he was developing “that look”. This is the look he gets that starts out as a soft, contented smile, but gradually devolves into a tighter and tighter grimace as his fatigue and frustration sets in. I did my best to play it up. "Keep looking Sam, you're doing great!", I'd say, but clearly, he was having none of it. Oh, he was going to continue on. He had it in his sights and since he's my son, he would obsess about it until he hit some kind of payoff, or it was time to leave- whichever came last...just like me.

Like me at his age, Sam is not a beach guy. Unlike me, he doesn’t really complain about it- unless it gets dire. He doesn’t swim and he’s never been big into digging holes or making sand castles. He'll go along with it, but it's only to make you happy. Like his brother and sisters, he likes hermit crabs. But unlike his brother and sisters, he leaves them alone. He doesn't collect them in a bucket or make new homes for them. I think he figures they’re happier where they are over any new home he could dig for them, and he’s more content to let them be.

Sam is also a person who likes his hands clean, and if that’s the kind of person you happen to be, well, there are better places to be than at the beach. But he puts up with it.

I could relate to some of this. I just wished that I could find some way to make the day at the beach a little more fun for him.

Sam kept looking in the sand and I left him to his hunt and I joined Jake for a walk to explore the shallow water over by the rocks. When we came back, Sam was still looking. I excused myself for a minute and walked up the tall stairs, past the snack bar to where the van was parked. When I came back down, Sam had just about had it.

As I made my way back down to the tent, I told Sam I thought I spotted something where I had been standing a moment ago, and suggested that maybe he should check around there. He did and sure enough, there was a quarter that someone must have dropped. Pretty soon, he came upon a few pennies and a nickel. This brightened things up considerably. Little by little he found more coins, along with the stray bottle cap and piece of trash. He was getting a pretty good collection going, but by then it was getting time to pack up and leave. We gathered our stuff, took down the tent and made our way across the hot sand and up the even hotter steps, back to the van, so we could get some pizza and then pick up the key to the cottage.

Later, as we drove to get the key, I wondered what Sam would remember about this day- or if he'd remember any of it at all. At some level, I knew it really didn't matter.

I thought back to a time, many years ago, when I was little. My Dad was digging a patio in the back yard and somehow, one of us kids spotted a coin in the dirt. Before long, more coins were found as me and my brother and sisters, and even some neighborhood kids, were digging in the dirt for treasure. I don’t remember much more than that. But... I feel it. I feel the fun and I feel the excitement and for some odd reason, I feel warmth- not for whatever it was that I found, because, to be honest, I really can’t remember what it was that I found. But I'm left with that feeling. And I know, after all of these years, that whatever I had found there, it was priceless.

Sam had fun today and that's what mattered.

Now it was time to get the key.

Our Vacation, Part Two

The drive to the Cape was an uneventful and quiet three hours. This was in sharp contrast to when the kids were little. When they were small, the van would be filled with the excited chatter of squeaky voices as they played with their toys and made plans for the adventure ahead. That was then. Now they’re older. Now they’re sleepy. It’s not that they’re worn out from the excitement of leaving. It's that they’re worn out by packing in all of the excitement the night before we leave.

Things stayed pretty quiet for the next two and a half hours, until we approached the bridge. That's when interest started to pick up with all the familiar sights and sounds- the bridge up ahead, the brush pines growing in the sand, me getting angry at the other drivers...

Getting through the traffic and over the bridge is always the first major milestone. Making it onto, and and then off of the rotary alive is the next. But after that, it’s a quick pit stop and a short half hour of congested driving until we reached our first destination.

Our first stop was the Town Office to get a beach sticker. The cost of a beach sticker is one of the few things I know of that goes up faster than the price of gasoline. It always feels like a crapshoot as to whether I should invest in one or not. If the weather for the week is beautiful, we would be going to the beach a lot and we would get our money’s worth. If the weather is lousy, I would then be forced to make my kids go to the beach in the rain in order to get my money’s worth. The drawback here is that I might feel guilty as I sat van waiting for them to make the cost of the sticker worthwhile. After deciding it was worth the risk, Jake and I walked through the drizzle to get the sticker... just like every other year.

Since we couldn't check into the cottage until later in the day, we went from the Town office to the beach. It took me years to wise up to this idea of going directly to the beach after getting a sticker. I’m not sure why. In years past, instead of going to the beach, we would kill the time before check-in by driving around, or going to the playground, or in desperation, hanging out at the grocery store parking lot. Finally one year I got the brainstorm: “Hey, we just got a beach sticker. Why don’t we go to the beach??!” Not only was it a brilliant idea, but this had the added advantage justifying my leaving at the crack of dawn “to beat the traffic”. We could make the three hour drive, get a beach sticker, drive to the beach, and still be there before most vacationers were dragging themselves out of their cottages.

Sure enough, when we arrived at the beach, it was nearly empty. Part of this was because of the early time of day, but part was also due to the just departed early morning rain. We parked, lugged out all of our belongings. The kids grabbed the tent and the cooler and the towels while I took off my sneakers, to leave behind, cleverly stashing my bag of change inside them. We headed down to the beach to stake out our claim. By now, the sun was struggling to break through, but the sand was still pretty damp. We found “our spot”, set up our beach tent, and laid out the towels. While some of us went to explore the shore for rocks and shells, Sam hauled out his metal detector and began sweeping the sands behind our tent.

I walked the shore with the others, looking for rocks to put in the rock tumbler back home. This was despite the fact that I already had about four or five bags of rocks from the vacation of two years earlier, still sitting in the basement waiting for their turn to be tumbled. At the time, I figured the trip was likely to be our last, so I collected way more rocks than was “necessary”. I figure I should be able to get them all tumbled in another three or four years. This, of course, did not stop me from collecting more.

Looking for rocks and shells is a lot like going to the flea market. You stroll along, examining every minute detail, looking for the one gem that's just right and makes it all worthwhile. It takes a lot of patience. But patience wears thin and the longer you walk along, the less picky you get. Not wanting to leave empty handed, you begin settling for items of, shall we say, “lesser quality". And little by little, you blindly collect more and more stuff.

Another other way it’s like a flea market, is that once this happens, you better be prepared to carry back whatever you find. This is often a problem, especially if it’s the first outing. Too many times in the past I’ve forgotten to bring along a bag or bucket with me, so I end up popping the occasional pebble into the pocket of my swim suit. By the end of my walk, I’m clutching my suit as I head back to our tent with my pockets bulging. This is not a good thing. The site of me in a swimsuit is bad enough. The site of me clutching a swimsuit that looks like it's bloated with some grotesque form of cellulite is enough repulse anyone. But I was prepared for rock collecting this time, so we headed off with my Zip-lock bag, ready for the hunt.

This particular beach has some wonderful little rocks further down the shore. Unfortunately "further down the shore" puts them in the “Private Beach’ section. You can tell this is the private beach section because of the signs that say “Keep Out. Private Beach”. But this was early in the morning and there were only a couple of people on the other side, so we paid it no attention. After all, what could happen? Do they have their own version of lifeguards over there, saving their citizens from the flotsam that drifts over the border? I doubt it. After all, where would they sit? There we none of those tall chairs. And how would anyone be able to tell we weren’t “one of them”? We’re all just people, right? As their side of the border began to get more crowded (with all of ten people), it became clear how wrong I was.

Right off the bat, these people spotted us as the interlopers we were. You could just feel it. At first I tried not making eye contact with them and instead made innocuous small talk with my kids as we walked along looking out at the ocean. I'd say things like, “Wow, look at that water!” Or “Sure looks like it's going to be a nice day!” But clearly I wasn’t fooling anyone. I was like the country bumpkin in the big city who keeps looking up at all the tall buildings. I was just making things worse.

View from "The Forbidden Zone". Note the Common People in the distance.

When I finally summoned the courage to glance over at the Beautiful People, it only confirmed my worst fears. I could see I was being examined with a squinty glare that screamed, “You. Don’t. Belong. You. Must. Die.” I recognized this look. It was the look of the Borg. I started to slink away. I felt like a wolf in an ill-fitting chicken suit who was caught leaving the hen house.

Who was I kidding? I knew I didn't belong here. I look like someone who should be collecting their trash, or worse, like someone who would go through their trash- which in a way, I guess I was. I knew it was time to head back. “Well”, I thought to myself as I slinked back over the boundary, “If that’s what you people are like, you can keep you high livin’ and your shiny boats and your fancy beaches. And now if you don’t mind, I’ll be leaving... with a bag full of your rocks!" Take that suckas!

As I headed back to the tent I saw that Sam was still sweeping his metal detector over the sands, looking for treasure.