A partial eclipse for the summer of 2018...
I’m writing this memoir a short while after my mother and I enjoyed a farewell breakfast with my sister and brother-in-law at the end of their annual summer visit to Rhode Island. A newly established tradition since last year, we rubbed elbows inside close quarters at the Modern Diner in Pawtucket. It’s the first diner in the nation to be accepted on the National Register for Historic Places. Customized and factory-built, the Sterling Streamliner, a line of “modernistic” diners, was manufactured in the late 1930’s and early 1940’s.
You might say I’ve established a precedent to preserve the legacy of these family visits by commemorating them in memoirs separate and apart from my nonfiction collection, '100 WILD Mushrooms: Memoirs of the ‘60s' (2017)-- “The Vacation” and “The Playground”.
Setting the tone during the vacation of 2018—the oppressive heat and humidity which may have left us damp, but didn’t dampen our spirits.
Ever since the summer of 2013, which I classify the “good-as-it-gets” year, traditions have been modified to accommodate a set of elderly parents navigating their golden years with walkers. As in the past, we embarked on a lighthouse cruise by boarding the fast ferry, 'Millennium', for a 90-minute, narrated sightseeing tour in Newport Harbor.
More memorable to me than the scenic cruise under azure skies, was our hustle to the dock, trudging through a gravel parking lot. A moment of hilarity occurred when my mother lost the sole of her shoe.
Another time-honored tradition was a girls’ day out exclusively for my mother, sister, and me. This involved frequent stops at various clothing stores before lunch at the Old Grist Mill in Seekonk, Massachusetts. For our main fare, we indulged in lobster, be it sautéed, or New England lobster inside a roll.
Following protocol, we headed next door to Vinny’s Antiques, a haven for junque spelunkers. The spacious center features the wares of over 200 dealers spread throughout two floors with little room to spare: estate jewelry, furniture, vintage clothing, glassware, and collectibles. This year my sister and I reminisced about how I can still smell the aroma of my father’s pipe tobacco emanating from the wood inside one of the drawers in an antique chest-on-chest bureau my mother bequeathed to me when she moved to an assisted living facility.
A diversion off the beaten path that day, which I’m certain of repeating next year, entailed a stop at Newport Creamery for ice cream sundaes. And, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. I’ll never order anything other than chicken parmesan at Angelo’s Civita Franese because theirs is the best I’ve ever tasted!
Although I’ve only skimmed the surface of many treasured moments, this memoir will refresh my mind as time goes by.
|
|
|
I'm so glad that your sister and you can still engage in annual rituals with your mother. Our family rituals ended when my parents decided to leave their lake home for the summer when it became too difficult to maintain. We always gathered there for summer holidays, Memorial Day, Fourth of July, and Labor Day. My brother just bought another lake home in northern Wisconsin so the younger generation may reestablish those halcyon times on the water in the cool Northwoods.
Ron
Sandie