In his 1940 novel, You
Can’t Go Back Home Again, Thomas Wolfe wrote: “You can't go back home to
your family, back home to your childhood, back home to romantic love, back home
to a young man's dreams of glory and of fame, back home to exile, to escape to
Europe and some foreign land, back home to lyricism, to singing just for
singing's sake, back home to aestheticism, to one's youthful idea of 'the
artist' and the all-sufficiency of 'art' and 'beauty' and 'love,' back home to
the ivory tower, back home to places in the country, to the cottage in Bermuda,
away from all the strife and conflict of the world, back home to the father you
have lost and have been looking for, back home to someone who can help you,
save you, ease the burden for you, back home to the old forms and systems of
things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time--back
home to the escapes of Time and Memory.”
Since Mr. Wolfe wrote that iconic title---You Can’t Go Home Again---it's become a kind of metaphor or shorthand for stating that once we’ve
moved forward into the more sophisticated world of adulthood with all its ups
and downs, heartaches and headaches, joys and disappointments any attempt to
relive our youthful memories will always fall flat and fail. Nothing ever stays the same and we all
have to acknowledge that with a blending of sentimentality and longing or loathing---depending
on what the world has brought into our lives...or we left behind before our coming of age.
But Thomas Wolfe didn’t know about the Power of the Key.
When my niece bought the cottage where I spend all my summers growing up and
where my parents later retired she presented my brother and me with keys tied
with red satin ribbons that matched much of the decor` within the two bedroom
cottage. It was her way of saying we would always be welcome to stop by, even
if no one was at home. She was out of state this past weekend so that’s exactly what I did and
it was just what I needed to help heal the mild depression I’ve been feeling
these past few weeks. You might not be able to go back home again, but a visit sure can be fun and uplifting. (My childhood play pal happened to be at the lake, too, and we had a great visit.)
Below is a photo-essay of some of the things I like best about
the cottage. My niece kept much of the old and added more “old” to the cottage’s
bones to give it that planned vintage look. She painted walls to lighten it up
but kept my mother’ beloved red kitchen cabinets that my dad built. The flooring is all new but the only meat-and-potatoes
kind of change she made was a much needed bathroom remodel. Oh, and she added a screen porch that I couldn't photograph because the furnishings out there had been pulled back in case of rain. It's one of my favorite areas, though. I always feel like
I’m sitting into a copy of Cottage Living
Magazine when I'm out there. ©
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| This desk was in my bedroom growing up. It has the same green antiquing on it that I did in the 70s. |
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| The tin plate and cup my brother and I used as kids. |
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| The corner shelf above the kitchen sink that my dad made for cups and the cookie jar. |
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| On the left windowsill in the kitchen. |
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| On the right windowsill in the kitchen. |
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The shelves on the old porch line the wall opposite the bed and were built by my dad.
The set of books are the ones my brother and I read when it was raining outside. |
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| The back splash in the new bathroom. Wainscoting and the cottage go hand and hand . |
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| The cottage has a name, now, too, in honor of my dad. |
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| Mom and Dad in the early 1940s. |
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| The key that unlocks the perfect blending of the past and present. |
