We tried to go on family vacations. Usually, we simply “made do” with week-long visits to Niles or Sandusky during the summer. Those to Sandusky were more enjoyable; at least they seemed more like a true vacation in that we had an opportunity to spend a day at Cedar Point, a premier amusement park for Ohio and the roller-coaster capital of the world. I never wanted to go on the really tall ones; fortunately, the kids were satisfied with getting wet on the final splash down of the mill ride.
Of course, there were also the carousels (after all, Sandusky is the home of the Merry-Go-Round Museum housed in its old Post Office) and the bumper cars. In my days before inner-ear problems and attacks of vertigo, I enjoyed taking the kids on the tilt-awhirl as well. We could spend the entire day without too many conflicts about what we should or should not do in order to have fun. Even sitting on a bench and “people-watching” was a pleasant way for Karen and me to spend time while the kids rode on something geared to their own size. Of course, we tried to stay until the fireworks lit up the sky for the close of the day of at the Park.
Cedar Point had a beach and the waters of the Bay, but we seldom visited them. Instead, we spent a week in a cottage on the shore of Lake Cayuga on a nostalgic trip to Ithaca. We managed, of course, to revisit Cornell, which had not changed all that much over the dozen years since we had lived in its shadows. The town, itself, had become a pedestrian-shopping center, but the campus was as picturesque as we had remembered it to be. Residing on the lake shore gave the kids something to do when we were not sightseeing throughout the Finger Lakes region. Arguments among us were minimal, since Deb had been allowed to bring a girlfriend, Laura, with her to counterbalance the need to spend time for disputes with her brothers or parents.
On the other hand, the two girls did provide a laughable event, even if it was one in which Deb was on the verge of drowning, unbeknownst to the rest of us. The two of them had gone out for their daily swim in the lake outside our cottage. Deb, having grown tired during the swim, grabbed hold of a log floating nearby, while Laura headed, alone, back to shore. Deb tried to haul the log with her as she swam toward the rest of us. She was dismayed when she discovered, upon reaching the dock, that she had been towing a large tree and had almost succumbed to the effort of dragging it behind her. We all thought her panic cries of going under were for our amusement and not for a need for actual help.
Another vacation in a house on Occum Pond in Hanover, New Hampshire was much more tranquil. Again, it was a nostalgic vacation. Karen and I recalled our pleasant years at Dartmouth and made daytrips around the region in order to renew other memories. The house we rented for the vacation was a faculty home unlike the starter-apartments we had once rented in the town.
We found that Hanover had remained as peaceful as ever. Having discovered a reference to the short-term rental through a local agency, he made final arrangements with the Dartmouth faculty member for our arrival. We were amused to have been informed that we would find the front-door key on the kitchen table, providing they were able to locate it. Evidently, they had never bothered locking the door of their home overlooking Occum Pond on the edge of the campus. I have wondered if they ever found it or had to replace the lock with a new one, given the changes in our society since those carefree days.
It was enjoyable taking a vacation in the towns where Deb and Ken were born and where Karen and I had begun our days as a new, happily married couple. We have never returned, during the last half-century, to Chris’ hometown of Corvallis, Oregon. No doubt, it should be on our bucket list, if we had a bucket list; after all, it, too, is located on the water, even though it is merely a river named the Willamette.