It’s been a few weeks since I’ ve written about my comings and goings.
Over Memorial Day weekend, we made the trip north to the home of my youth, Burlington, VT. As we drove north the temperature kept dropping and by the time we reached Burlington, it was 41 degrees. Imagine that – on Memorial Day weekend. And that’s not the kicker! It actually snowed at the higher elevations and as we drove back to Boston the peaks of Mt. Mansfield and Camel’s Hump were white!
It’s always memory lane when I go home. This time, along with my mother and friend, we took a drive to a place called “Sand Dunes”. See that picture? That’s me, age 3, circa 1953 at Sand Dunes very proudly holding my catch of perch. It was where I spent all my summers until I went to sleep-away summer camp. As soon as school was out, we’d pack up and go to the beach for the summer. It seemed so far away from Burlington but actually as we drove it this time, not quite so far away, just 7 miles.
Those many years ago, it was beautiful sand dunes with a long white, sandy beach. Quite unusual for Lake Champlain. It was an enclave of mostly Jewish families. We knew everyone. Every summer I’d wait for a family from Montreal come to spend the summer with a daughter that was my age and who I stayed friends with through high school. It was very exotic to have a friend from Montreal!
We’d leave our “camps” first thing in the morning. We didn’t worry about the sun. We trolled for minnows with a beach towel, putting the minnows in a plastic tub. We’d go fishing in our green row boat (see picture). We’d have lunch on the beach. We didn’t come home until we were forced to. Two consistent things that happened each day was the train coming through and the ice cream man. We’d hear the train whistle blow and run to the tracks, sometimes putting pennies on it so they would get flattened when the train went over them and we’d wave to the conductor. Every night we’d strain our ears listening for the ice cream man. And then, some nights we’d get into our pajamas and go to the “Sunset Drive-In” for a movie. There was nothing better!
At least once a week, we’d drive to Malletts Bay for a cree-me (soft ice cream in Vermont speak), go roller skating and drive past a house where a man grew petunias. We called him the petunia man! We never bought vegetables in the grocery store. Always went to the farmer’s for only the freshest home grown tomatoes, cukes and everything in between!
Now as I look at Sand Dunes, the dunes are gone, the beach has eroded; most of the houses are year round. Nothing stays the same – only in your memories! My mother and I argued over which camp was ours. I’m still not sure! But those memories stay with me!
See you at the bar…
