This year, we planned our beach vacation a little differently. Our friends the Morrises had a wedding to attend in the Dominican Republic, so the Dugans were on our own arranging for a rental. We finally found a two-bedroom cottage up the beach from last year’s blue house (sadly, the blue house was bought last fall and looks to have been taken off the rental market by someone with a Tesla) within our price range and secured it in the spring; the description was vague, the pictures dark, and the amenities thin. Still, we took a chance.
We drove up to a beachfront view obscured by a large man-made dune. The rental agency had failed to mention this. The house wasn’t as bad as I feared, but definitely several steps below the luxury of the blue house or our rentals in the Outer Banks. It had been constructed four or five decades ago and upkeep had been minimal, so its age showed. At some point it settled heavily in the back, so the kitchen and everything in the back half of the house leaned 3˚ to port. This made opening the refrigerator door interesting; it wanted to close itself, so getting anything out was like wrestling a shipping container. Unattended cracks in the ceiling and walls showed how much the house had buckled over the years.
We emptied the Honda and settled in, finding the beds to be functional but thin. The master suite held a full mattress, while the second bedroom was stuffed with two bunk beds. One sectional couch was long and comfortable, while the love seat looked like a Miami whore who lost a knife fight. Still, it was air conditioned and it was on the beach.
The dune, we were soon to learn, was a month-old addition designed to fight erosion. Before that, the water had been a hundred yards away from the house. Now it was about five hundred. We walked out after dinner and checked out the water, which was cold at first but warmed up quickly.
Our first couple of days were idyllic and peaceful. We were treated to great weather, and on Sunday after most of the people left, had the beach mainly to ourselves. Finn introduced herself to a boy and girl in the water late on Sunday and I struck up a conversation with their father. We hit it off easily, and they invited us to join their family for a marshmallow roast that evening after dinner. The grill that had been advertised as an amenity turned out to be a mini-Weber knockoff that took a while to light, but I got some brats cooking and we chowed down.
It turned out our new friends were from Ellicott City and leaving the next day, but we made plans to meet up on the beach the following morning before they left town. The girls got along great and we spent time telling stories over the fire and looking at the clear band of the Milky Way above our heads.
Returning back to the house, we were horrified to find the grill had blazed back up and caught the deck on fire. It went out easily with a garden hose, but I had to make an embarrassed phone call to the rental agency the next day to let them know what had happened.
The next few days were full of beach adventure, lazy mornings and afternoons, cold beer at noon, and as little contact with the outside world as we could manage. We took a family ride up the coastal road toward the blue house, and Mama got to know her new bike.
On Wednesday, the Morrises came in the afternoon so Jen made dinner and we shuffled the sleeping arrangements around. The kids got along easily and we adults stayed up talking until midnight. Thursday morning we woke up early, got the beach gear together, and walked out to an empty, windy beach under a partly cloudy sky. The kids couldn’t have cared less and jumped straight into the water, but clouds in the west said there was going to be rain at some point. We made the best of things, staying in the water until about 3:30 or so, but when the thunder started rumbling we packed up and headed in.
Friday morning the weather looked bleak and there was a heavy wind blowing up the coast from Rehobeth–the kind that kicks up stinging sand. We cleaned up the house and put some walking around clothes on, and drove into Rehobeth to have some lunch at Dogfish Head pub. Stopping in a storefront on the way up to the boardwalk, we got Finn a henna design on her arm, and did some window shopping. Then we braved the boardwalk itself to let Finn play some games in an arcade and have her fortune told by Zoltar, who went through his shpeil but then failed to deliver her fortune. The maintenance man stepped in to unlock the cabinet, revealing the space where Zoltar’s lower body should have been was filled with cobbled-together electronic parts from a Radio Shack clearance sale. Way to sell the magic, buddy.
With our fill of white trash and cheap arcade prizes, we headed back home and got a couple of hours on the beach before dinner. The wind had died down and most of the people had gone in, so Finn and I had an hour and a half of alone time in the water while Mama napped on the sand.
Saturday morning we packed up the car and cleaned, and said goodbye to the raggedy house. Driving into Lewes, we got some diner breakfast and then hit the outlet stores to keep from having to drive home immediately.
This weekend: A Friday night bike ride for ice cream with my girl. A little cleaning. Perfect weather. A trip in the Scout with my family. Delicious barbecue. Picking blackberries in the sunshine. Picking peaches in the evening. Meeting at the Farmer’s Market for produce and an early lunch. A quiet afternoon at the house. Birthday crabs down the street with Bear and his parents. Early bedtime for everyone.
Mama was off to the salon to get her hair did, so Finn and I were home this morning getting ready for a birthday party. This involved making a card and then decorating a drum head we found at a yard sale (her friend is the daughter of a drummer and a huge Beatles fan) so I showed her how to practice drawing her design first before she got to work with a black Sharpie. It came out good!
Then I went hunting for wrapping paper. Jen swears we have bags of it but I’ll be damned if I can find it anywhere. Driving to the CVS to restock, Finn and I spotted something on the side of the road. In front of a table piled with housewares, a white women’s hybrid bike stood waiting for some attention. We took care of our shopping (also grabbing two folding beach chairs for $20) and drove back to look it over. When Jen got home from the salon we rushed back to try it out. the tires were flat but we did a brief test run down the sidewalk, and she said it felt good. Sold!
I took some time out this afternoon to wash it, fill the tires, and run through the gears. It checked out well except for the front derailleur, which was disconnected. I put it back in the Scout and dropped it off for a tuneup at the local bike shop, where it should be ready by Tuesday.
Now, a new bike has been on our list of priorities since, oh, 2002, but this Christmas I promised her I’d buy her one. This wasn’t quite what I had in mind, but with professional servicing and a thorough wash, it’s an excellent bike (It’s the same vintage as my second mountain bike, a Trek 820) and it’s right in time for our vacation. Plus: Comfy saddle! rear pannier! And the basket from Uberbike (the tandem) will fit perfectly on the handlebars for trips to the Farmer’s Market.
We closed out Grampy’s memorial with fireworks over a field of corn. The weather was uncommonly cool for July in Cayuga county, so we bundled in fleece blankets and stood in groups among the cars in the parking lot, faces lit up by green and red flashes in the sky.
My little family traveled the day of the wake and arrived for the last viewing hour. Walking up the stairs at the funeral home, I followed my wife and daughter inside in a daze. Finn marched right up to the casket, oblivious to her mother, grandmother, and a hundred other people, and inspected Grampy closely. It took me a while to warm up into greetings and making small talk with my family, but after an hour or so I got my brain working and became sociable.
We left, got changed, and walked down the street to my uncle’s house, where deli plates were being dropped off and the drinks were pouring. Finn found herself a place on the porch swing next to my oldest cousin and easily held her own with the crowd. Later, when seats were at a premium, she secured her spot by bringing dessert back for her seatmate; that kid is getting smarter every day.
The service was held in a small lakeside Catholic church where Grampy went to Mass before the shrinking congregation consolidated to another parish. I sat in the third pew with eight of my cousins, dressed like the cast of Reservoir Dogs, as pallbearers. The service was capped with eulogies from cousins and children, ending with a history written by my father and filled with details I’m sure few of us had heard before. Then the piper started up outside and we carried him to the hearse.
His gravesite is beautiful, set up on a hill facing west toward the lake. After a short service we adjourned to the Inn for drinks and light food on the back lawn, and then to my Uncle Brian’s farm for barbecue and a larger party. To see my daughter playing in the barnyard with her cousins filled me with joy; it was a small taste of my experience visiting Grampy’s farm 40 years ago, running free and full of life, which is how all funerals should be celebrated.
As many long-time invitees are already aware, the Lockardugans decided 2015 was a skip year for the parade party. After 10 straight seasons, we needed a break, and so after making sure the lawn was mowed and the cat was boarded, we got the fuck out of town.
Friday was a holiday so we cut out across the bridge to Easton, where our good friends the Morrises were ready to receive us. After enjoying some drinks and a laid-back dinner on the deck, we all packed up and drove to the waterfront in Oxford, where the town was lined up along the beach to watch fireworks at dusk. It was a beautiful night, and apart from a light drizzle the show was fantastic.
Saturday we packed up and headed back to the same beach to sit by the water and watch the kids play. I’m happy to report Finn is now diving, swimming, and jumping underwater with no fear at all; this year, in fact, she asked me to pick up and throw her repeatedly and has now decided she wants to try a diving board. Okay!
Regretfully, we packed up and left at dinnertime, as lack of sleep and exhaustion from spending five solid hours in the water took its toll on the kids. She crashed out in the car at six and went straight to bed when we got home. We enjoyed the peace and quiet until the Catonsville fireworks show started up, which we’re now able to see almost clearly through the new gap in our treeline behind the greenhouse.
Sunday morning, to celebrate the CR-V hitting 100,000 miles somewhere between Oxford and Easton, we did what all God-fearing, patriotic Americans do on a national holiday: we cleaned out the grotty interiors of our cars. Finn earned some money by manning the vacuum while I scrubbed the sills and cleaned the plastics, and between the three of us we made short work of it.
Mama set up some coleslaw and then we stopped over to Bear’s house for a visit. He was in good spirits, alternately eating, sleeping, farting, and staying awake for brief periods of time to study the chandelier. After dinner, he and I retired in the living room to nap and watch the first half of the Women’s World Cup final. One of their cats jumped up to join us, and I had a great time juggling a baby, a cat, and my beer with only two hands.
Then, we packed up and got Finn back home and into bed at a reasonable hour. After getting everything ready for Monday morning, I hauled my gear up from the basement and got the batch of Irish Stout from last November bottled and racked in the basement. The last batch of Session is kicked, so I’ll clean the keg out this evening, and then transfer the new batch in to finish.
I’d like to say Memorial Day Weekend was spent in lazy pursuit of relaxation, but it kind of wasn’t. We were at the neighbors’ on Friday night for dinner and drinks, and had a great time, but one extra-strong beer gave me a pounding headache Saturday morning.
I took on some freelance work last week, and so I found myself behind a computer for 2 of the 3 lovely days we were given; in retrospect I would rather have left the money on the table and gotten outside with my family. Even so, Jen and I celebrated our anniversary at The Food Market, a wonderful hipster restaurant in Hampden. The food was delicious but the bar tab for 4 drinks came to $50, which is Manhattan money, not Hampden money!
Sunday was more work for me while the girls went out to be social; later in the day we were invited back over to the neighbors’ for a more low-key cookout which was what we were all really in the mood for.
Saturday our neighbor stopped by to mention he’s getting a dumpster to haul off a bunch of brush from his yard; he figured he’d have room left over and wanted to know if I might be interested in filling it for splitting the cost. Given that I’ve had a pile of construction rubble sitting alongside the driveway since last summer, I thought this was a swell idea, and will spend part of this coming weekend happily hauling concrete.