We used to go every summer growing up. It would be Mom, Dad, Melissa, and me and our family friends Marie, Joe, Jennifer, and Christina. It was usually for 2 weeks in July, staying at my grandmother's cottage (which we used to call "The Camp") in Waterville.
We had so much fun those summers. My parents were happy, my sister and I were happy; it was always so much fun. We looked forward to it every school year, even having to go visit our relatives while on vacation. Maybe this was because my relatives are so cool.
We'd always visit Aunt Pauline, who is celebrating her 80th birthday this month. We're having a celebration for her during the reunion this year. Aunt Pauline rocks. She makes the best homemade Blueberry muffins in the world and she owns like a million Hummel figurines. I loved her house in Fairfield so much. Alas, she doesn't live there anymore. Part of me wants to drive by it on this trip just to see it, even if I can't go inside. It was such a great little house.
We'd also visit Gramp Webb, Aunt Pauline's father, my great grandfather. Gramp Webb (Ranceford - isn't that a great name?) is by far the most amazing man I ever met. He was a minister for most of his life. Built his beautiful house with his own bare hands. He and my greatgrandmother (Mildred - whom I've been told was the kindest woman that ever lived by anyone who ever met her) lived in this house and had 3 children: my Uncle Bradford, who died at 14 in a tragic hunting accident, my grandfather, Manford, whom I never got to meet as he passed away a few years before I was born, and Aunt Pauline, whom they dubbed "Paulinaford" because all the menfolk had ford at the end of their name, and they didn't want to leave her out. Gramp Webb passed away my sophomore year of high school. It broke my heart.
We visited Aunt Pauline's Daughter, Cousin Linda, and her family, as well, on our trips up. There's her husband, Albert, and her two children, Michael and Tavia. Michael and Tavia are now both married and each have children as well, Michael with 2 and Tavia with, I think, 4 at last count. Visiting with them was my favorite part of the trip because almost everyone was there. Everyone would pile into Linda's house, and we'd have ourselves a good visit. We'd get to look through Linda's numerous photo albums (and you thing I take a lot of pictures!), have a barbeque, and go swimming in the pool.
We'd visit my Uncle Gary and Aunt Liz, as well. The have a fantastic house. Acres of lawn that go right down to the water's edge, rooms upon rooms inside the house, and a train set hooked up around the perimeter of the ceiling in the main room he'd always turn on for me. And there was Samantha, the coolest dog ever. My uncle loved her so much he had her name put on his personalized plates for his car. I cried when she died.
We'd go and see Grammy King, too, who is Uncle Gary's and my grandmother's mother. She only lived a few miles down the road from the camp. She had this little dog that just shook all the time. Looked like she was going to scare herself to death. She spent most of her time in her kennel. I guess she felt safer there. Grammy King was a funny, tough old broad. She used to make us laugh for hours. She passed away a few years ago at the age of 99. She was just 2 months shy of 100. She lived a very full life and had more love than most people know what to do with.
Last, we'd have to visit with my Aunt Alice, who is my grandmother's sister. She was really the only person Melissa and I didn't like to visit with. She had 2 very angry dogs she brought everywhere with her. We weren't allowed to touch them because they'd bite us. And then there's Aunt Alice. Man, she was touch back then. She was a Colonel in the U.S. Army. She ran with the Big Boys. Later, we found out from Mom (when she thought we were old enough to know) that Aunt Alice is a lesbian, but an ashamed lesbian who has hidden what she is from everyone and looks down on the gay community even to this day. The thing I remember most about Aunt Alice is the way she looked. She was short and waddled when she walked. She kept her hair short (it was black) and had a rather large nose. And she smoked with a black cigarette holder. Remind you of anyone?
We might actually be going to visit her on this upcoming trip. It depends on what kind of mood I'm in and if we decide to stay an extra day.
The rest of the trip was spent at the camp, cooking, swimming in the lake, playing on the swings (where Jennifer broke her arm one year). Or we'd go into Waterville to shop or see a movie or go to a restaurant. Oh, and to go play minigolf. Kim remembers minigolf. We took her and Chris up there one year after we'd finished high school. She won a free game. I wonder if that place is still there? I know the Rummle's is gone; it was an ice cream parlor next door to the minigolf place. Had the best blackberry ice cream ever made.
When Harry and I went to Maine a couple of years ago, we drove all the way over to Waterville from Camden just to see the camp. My Aunt Rhonda owns it now, and it's proven difficult to find a weekend when she's not using it so we can stay there. The camp was supposed to be for everyone, but that's not the way it panned out. It saddens me. My fondest memories of my childhood are locked up in that house. My Lincoln Logs, which were there waiting for me every year, were thrown out when my aunt took the house over. The swings are still there, as is Wendel, my mom's cousin who lives year-round two doors down. He's kind of like the street (and I use that term loosely seeing as it's really just a dirt road with no name) caretaker. I used to call him "Cousin Window" when I was little cuz I really thought that was his name. And when that song, "Mr. Wendel", came out on the airwaves, it always made me think of him. We saw him when I took Harry to the camp, and he waved at me. When I told my mom he couldn't have possibly known who I was, she said, "Oh, you'd be surprised. I bet he knew exactly who you were."
I remember wanting to live up in Maine growing up. It was just so beautiful. Now that I'm older, I realize it's just too damn cold for me to live up there. Harry still wants to. His family is from there as well, from a little town called Hallowell we went and checked out on our last trip. I loved this town. They don't have towns like that anymore. It's made up of one main street, maybe 6 blocks long. There's probably only 18 blocks total in the whole town. You could walk it in less than an hour. I love it.
I could go on and on about our adventures throughout the years, like our journey to Canada and scaling Cadillac Mountain, but I don't think I need to write down those memories just yet. They're all still fresh in my head. When I think I'm starting to forget them, I'll put them to paper. Until then, I'm going to make some new ones.
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