day......traveling.....466

 I took two mini vacations over the last two days

    I went to a lake in Michigan and to Switzerland.

    I know....that's impossible.

    Let me Splain, Lucy.

    First, Michigan.

    My Aunt Kay and Uncle Jim owned two cottages on Dewey Lake, nocated near Dowagiac, Michigan.

    I think, but am not sure, that before the Crash of '29, Jim owned one of the cottages.  Then the crash came and he was able to buy the second cottage.

    Every year my family would load the car and drive up there for a two or three week stay.  My dad would not stay, he would go back to Chicago on Sunday and then return on Friday night.

    The cottages were about 20 feet square.  

    The cottage we stayed in had a living room, kitchen and bedroom.  Added on to the back was a dining area and a bathroom.  On the front was a huge screened in porch that wrapped around partway on the side of the house.  The porch was where my brothers and I slept.

    The porch had  huge canvass shades that we could roll down to keep out the sun and roll up at night to let in the air.  The porch screen door made a screech and a bang whenever anyone open it  and then let it slam shut.

    The bathroom was a sink and a stool.  The bathtub was the lake.

    It was pretty primitive, but I loved going there.

    I got a science lesson one year.  I could hear the whooing of birds during the day.  I said it was funny to hear, because I thought owls came out at night.  I was told they were doves.

    That's what took me to Michigan.

    I was sitting in my chair on the porch.  My eyes were half closed, but I could hear the cooing of doves and the sound of children playing in the pool next door.

    About 4 cottages down from "our" cottage was a place owned by the Jennings/O'Reilly family.  They were southside Irish Catholics from Chicago, and I always got confused on who was Jennings ane who was O'Reilly,  Their dad did the same as my dad, went back to Chicago Sunday night and came up Friday night.  Sometimes they would ride together.

    There were 7 girls and a baby boy in the family.  I only remember two of the girls, Deanie and Beth.  Deanie was my age and Beth a year younger.

    Every year Deanie and I did things together....played, swam, hiked, talked.  A lot of the time several of the girls would come over and play Monopoly or read some comic books from the gigantic stack I always  brought along.

    When I was 14, my two brothers opted not to go.  They were working, or going to schbool, so my mom allowed me to invite a frined.

    I asked Dickie, a red headed athletic boy who lived kiddy-corner from me.  He was Catholic, Irish and a Sox fan.....complete opposite of me, but we played ball together, rode bikes, wrestled, played cops and robbers.  We were good friends.

    His mom allowed him to go, which was great because we would be spending three weeks together.  I told him about Deanie and my plans to hold her hand and kiss her.  He laughed.

    The first day we were there, the girls came over.  All smiles, all chattering, and there she was...freckle faced, curly hair, happy smile, and little bumps showing under her t-shirt.  The prettiest girl I had ever seen.  I was in love.

    Problem was, it was Beth.  Not Deanie.

    Second problem, Dickie had the same reaction.

    We both spent the first week stumbling over each other in an effort to impress Beth.  Deanie could sense it.  We drifted apart, barely acknowledging each other on the beach or playing Monopoly.  Sometimes she didn't even come over.  I didn't care.

    On   Friday I convinced Beth to go for a ride with me in Uncle Jim's rowboat.  My plan was to row to the other side of the lake where there was a channel, tell her how I felt, and kiss her.

    I remember it was hot.  I rowed.  And rowed.  And rowed.  Past the swamp.  Past the Irish Village. Past all the summer houses.

    Finally we reached the channel.  It was so quiet, you could have heard a fish fart.

    I moved closer to her and said, "Beth......." but I never go another word out!  

    A car started honking and honking, people were yelling.

    "It's my dad!  He came up early!"

    I looked and sure enough, there was a car full of giggling faces.

    "Come on Beth.  We're going into town for a fish fry.  Terry, you could come too if you didn't have the boat."

    But I did have the boat.  I rowed to the side of the channel, he helped  Beth out of the boat, and I looked in the car to see all the girls plus one red headed  boy with a big grin.  Deanie was laughing for the first time since we arrived.

    I rowed back, sore and angry for the treachery Dickie had done.  He should have said no.....but he didn't.

    That started off a week of moderate snipping at each other, culminating in a front yard fight my mother had to break up.

    Dickie went home a week early.

    Deanie met a boy from the Irish Village settlement on the lake.

    Beth didn't talk to me again.

    Dickie and his family moved away that fall.

    I never heard from any of them ever again.

    My last week was me spending time on the screened in porch, reading comics that didn't interest me and listening to bugs bounce off the screens.  Alone.  Friendless.

    That winter the Jennings/O'Reilly cottage burned down.  When  we went to the lake the next year, there were no girls to hang around with.  The two weeks were spent walking past an empty lot and up to the corner to spend money on a pin ball mchine and root beer.  It was the last time I went to Dewey Lake.  (Actually, Jackie and I drove there when Emily was a baby.  The Jennings/O'Reilly lot was still empty...28 years later.)

    All that came back to me sitting on the porch, listening to the dove and the sound on children's laughter.

    Bittersweet? Yes, but a memory I would not trade.

    Tomorrow:  Switzerland

Peace and Love