The Day Trip with a Detour Down Memory Lane

It's been a long time since I've been on a day trip and I've forgotten how good for our mental health they can be. They get us out of our ruts and give us new fodder for our brains to mull over. My husband and I used to do a lot of day trips and after he died I went on five or six a year with the senior hall crowd in my old neighborhood. After moving to my continuum care complex there are still plenty of opportunities to get off campus for a full day but what's changed is the size of the buses. The senior hall day trips usually used 50 passenger motor coaches with bathrooms on board while my CCC takes our 20 passenger mini bus. Having the security of knowing that bathroom was there for emergencies made a huge difference in my willingness to sign up for any excursions that start before 10:00 AM, which most of them do.

Drum Roll please. This week my oldest niece picked me up for a two hour ride up north to my cousin's cottage. It was a beautiful day and along the way we stopped at an Amish farm to buy honey, peaches and tomatoes. I don't know what there is about seeing horse draw buggies and laundry hanging outside on clotheslines that speaks to me in a way that probably lowers my blood pressure but it happens every time I'm passing through Amish communities. 

 

photo by Jim Fisher

As a little kid my mom would take me and my brother with her when she'd visit her sister down in Indiana and that was my first introduction to both day trips and seeing women dressed in long dark colored dresses and men driving horse drawn buggies down the road. My aunt and uncle weren't Amish but they lived in close proximity. My uncle was a traveling Bible salesman and an odd duck who fit right in with his straight-laced neighbors. He wasn't the Paper Moon, door-to-door kind of salesman. (Great movie, by the way.) He called on churches with his sample cases full Bibles, hymnals and candlesticks, collars, collection plates and choir robes. My uncle's prayers before meals were long enough to make you forget why you sat down at the table. At least that's the way my child's eye saw them.

Fast forward to a time when I was hooked on reading romances books with an Amish theme. They represented a simpler time and place when the worst thing that could happen is a fox gets into the hen house. (A naive view of Amish farm life, I know, but just go with it.) My favorite plot device was heroines being placed on Amish farms by the Federal Witness Protection Program. Back then---shortly after 9-11 when the outside world was a scary place---I could daydream myself as that heroine separated from mainstream civilization and my FWPP handler would be a hunky guy who'd fall in love with me and keep me safe until the danger passed and we could go back to the modern world with running hot water and daily showers. Isn't the power of imagination a wonderful thing! And, yes, there really is a sub-genre of romance books labeled 'Amish Witness Protection Romances'. Google it if you don't believe me.

My niece was a teacher and on the drive we got to talking about home schooling, private schools and charter schools verses public schools. I'm strongly opposed to charter schools that are mostly run by churches---at least where I live they are. But the Amish community we were driving through got us wondering why I find it acceptable for them to have their own schools but not acceptable for other religious groups to have them. The new MAGA nominee for Vice President probably would say I don't have a right to an opinion on schools since I don't have any kids. I don't have any cats either but that's just because I allergic. I still can't believe he didn't know he'd be poking a sleeping giant with his cat lady insults.

Back on topic: My niece and I had no trouble filling the drive up and back with conversation about politics, family and past travel experiences. And after getting to my cousin's place the three of us continued on with an organic conversation that flowed easily between current events, decades old memories and cottage life. Her cottage has all the iconic things that a cottage needs to have to live up to the Title: a porch glider, a puzzle table, wind chimes, lots of secondhand furniture and knickknacks that all come with stories, lawn chairs and a great view of the lake. And, of course, a pontoon. 

After lunch we went for a pontoon ride on her lake that only has cottages on about a third of its shoreline. (See the photo at the top.) The uninhabited, wooded and swampy shoreline on the other two thirds of the lake gives you the feel of being farther up north than we were. From the pontoon we saw Loons on the water which are protected divers that unlike ducks can't walk on land. We also saw a bald eagle's nest. After the ride and parking the pontoon we sat there gentling rocking with the waves while we ate pie and swapped hilarious stories involving run-ins with skunks and bats---also part of cottage life. It was a perfect afternoon of fun and relaxation. It's a powerful thing, isn't it, when you can see someone on rare occasions like weddings and funerals but still be able to pick up on lively conversations and warm feelings as if you see each other every day.

I also brought my cousin a gift, a sweater my mom made for me back in the early 1960s. She's a master knitter who does all kinds of fancy stitches and when she visited me last spring I showed her the sweater (pictured below). She mentioned if I ever wanted to part with it she has a daughter-in-law who loves wearing vintage clothing like that. After asking both my nieces if they had an interest in the sweater I decided it couldn't go to a better home. But after my cousin put it on she said her daughter-in-law was not going to get it. It looked so darn cute on my cousin, as if it were custom-made for her. My only regret in giving it away was that I didn't get a photo of my cousin wearing it. Proof that I've made another great placement in my Personal Antique Adoption Program. ©

Until Next Wednesday!