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(For new reader and those who request 好友请求, please read my 公告栏 first).
Family travels in the US with the exception of airplane are almost
exclusively by automobiles, particularly for vacation or tourist activities.
In fact the American Automobile Association publishes yearly statistic of
the travel cost for a family of four per day by car to help people estimate
their vacation cost. In one of my earlier blog articles, I wrote about the
joy of travel by automobile on the US Interstate highways. Appearing
below is an article I wrote for my own gratification some years ago about
auto travel and the family vacation home. (For reader’s clarification:
Sophia is the name of my wife of 48 years. Adrian, Christine and Lara are
the names of our children born in 1961, 1963, and 1973)
Route 28, New Hampshire
Route 28 is a black top two lane highway. Before the days of Interstate 93,
it used to be the road linking Massachusetts with southern and mid New
Hampshire. Once pass the Mass border and the first NH town of
Hooksett, it winds its way mostly through country side dotted with small
lakes, farms, occasional trailer parks until it reaches the first big town (by
NH standards), Wolfeboro , where it joins the other main NH highway
Route 16 to northern NH.
Wolfeboro, N.H. situated on the southeastern tip of Lake Winnepesaki
proclaims itself as “the first summer resort of America”. It is a tourist
town for which progress and time have passed by. There are no shopping
mall with Gap or Banana Republic stores, no McDonald or KFC, no
Marriot or Hyatt, no haute cuisine restaurants, and no megaplex movie
theaters (in fact no movie theater period). Instead it has quaint book stores,
updated Five and Ten, diners and American style family restaurants, old
fashion resort inns, beautiful lakes and mountains. A tourist from the
1950’s will feel very much at home here in the 21st century.
40 years ago, during a family vacation we stumbled upon the “Hidden
Valley” vacation development just north of Wolfeboro on the shores of
Lower Beech Pond, a glacier lake about 2.5 square miles in area over 50
feet in depth and at an elevation of 900 feet . The development was run by
a small time real estate person from Massachusetts who did not have
grandiose plans and was trying to turn a quick profit during the first phase
of vacation property ownership in the mid to late sixties. He bought the
southern shore of the lower Beech Pond and the land behind the
waterfront. When we saw it he had three or four waterfront houses plus a
couple of non-waterfront cottages built. In 1967, through ignorance and
pure luck, I made a quick killing in the warrants of National General,
Inc.stock. The profit of $6000.00 became the down payment on a
waterfront lot in Hidden Valley. A good friend and architect, Paul Sun,
designed a plan for a compact contemporary vacation home. The
developer built the foundation and the shell of the house Over the winter
of 1967 and the Spring of 1968, we finished the inside of the house
ourselves during many weekends. It was quite an experience and we
acquired most of our
carpentry, wiring, and plumbing knowledge during that period. In fact we
were the fore-runner of today’s men/women team of do-it-yourselfers on
many cable TV stations. We slept in saw dust, cooked on a hot plate and
played endless 50’s music on our tape recorder. Adrian and Christine
were respectively five and four years old. I don’t remember how they
spent their time while we worked. What I do remember are that they were
super kids no bother at all while we worked. Adrian broke through the
spring ice on the Lake once while playing with Christine. He managed to
climb back on shore and was afraid to tell us what happened. Thinking
back, it was a miracle that he survived.
In forty plus years, the development has grown to some 40 houses
with a few year long residents. The opposite shore of the lake remained
undeveloped in local ownership. Thus our summer retreat remained a
retreat in every sense of the word. In fact, for the first 18 years we did not
have telephone. In the mid eighties, we enlarged the original design of the
house (again with the help of Paul Sun). The house can now
accommodate three generations of the family at one time. I still try not to
read e-mails when there.
However, I am digressing. The point is that to get to our vacation home
from Lexington, we must travel on Rt. 28 for at least 60% of the time.
Over the years since 1967, our family has traveled this route year in year
out countless times - for opening and closing the house, for winter skiing,
summer weekends, fall foliage, and for going there within two weeks
after Lara was born. The trip takes a little over two hours one way. One
learns about every curve and peculiarity of the route. There are the
cemetery where all children will hold their breadth until we passed it, the
roadside ice cream place where we used to stop as reward for good
behavior of the children during travel, the various shortcuts we discovered
over the years, the farm stand where we buy fresh corns, the bakery where
they sell day old goods at discount, the location of various A to Z signs
which children used to play the game of the same name, and on and on.
All of these are part of the memory bank and fabric of the family that was
built over a period of 40 years.
Unlike daily commuting to work during which one travels alone, is on
auto-pilot or thinking out thoughts. This trip invariably is done family
style. You are confined in a small space and can't help but share your
thoughts with other family members.
But above all, it was during these trips that a great deal of family
education and value system were passed from one generation to the other.
And now as children have grown and left, many trips consisted just of
two persons, my wife and I. During these two hours, we share our most
intimate thoughts, feelings, and aspirations enhanced by decades of living
together.
Contrast living at home and commuting to work with living at the vacation
home and travelling on Rt. 28. The former a necessary part of your
existence which you tend to take for granted; the latter, although repeated
often, is always an anticipated event with special memories. Going there
you have anticipation of good times, and coming back, you savor the
same perhaps with a tinge of regret that it is over too soon. One can’t help
but be reminded of some aspects of the movie "On Golden Pond".
I remember the time Sophia and I constructed a dock on the beach. But
then it turned out to be too heavy to lift it into the water. When we finally
managed the feat we both sat down in the water and laughed crazy like
six year old kids with pure happiness. And the time one sultry summer
evening arriving late at night at the lake, the whole family went skinny
dipping at midnight. Or the time Grandma flip head over heel into the
water by wearing a inner tube too low around her thigh and had to be
rescued. I can go on and on. . . .
Now the grandchildren have made staying at NH an annual summer event.
They are doing the same thing their parents did over a generation ago. I
hope the second generation can also take time to record their feelings and
pass their life experience and education to the third about this route and
this summer house. It will be our version of immortality.
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