Writing About Childhood

 

We were very fortunate as children we had a small summer cottage on a lake in central Massachusetts.  I was about eight when we got it.  I remember an old fisherman talking to my dad down by the water.  He sold it to us and we built a porch on the water side with four huge windows that opened up and let in the air and the sounds from the lake.  Motorboats, cracks of lightning and water lapping against the two foot concrete wall and stairs that held the yard in place made it a special place. There was a sandy bottom and father built a little six by six platform on stilts out in the deep water.  At some point I would paint faces on rocks and leave them out there on the bottom of the lake. Dad was diving one day and came upon them.  He was quite amused. It was probably the best feedback I ever got from him  He seemed genuinely happy. 

There wasn't much to the cottage itself. It had a single bathroom with no shower or tub.  There was a window connecting it to the one bedroom. This was eventually painted because I was peeking one day and my sister ratted me out to Mom.  Seems like it should have been painted before that happened.  Just sayin.  There was a small kitchen that led back to the porch and my bed in the hallway under what used to be another big window to the outside.  Mom and Dad slept out on the porch.  I heard them one time out there loving on each other.  Nothing dramatic. Just "Oh, whatever."  Later on, when in high school, I came out here with a couple dates on two different occasions. Both could have easily led to loss of virgin status on both sides. And neither did!  There was some naked running around which was a lot of fun. But that was it. No worries to carry around for a month.


As I reflect upon it now I think that those events were connected in some way. Our family was brought closer together by the structure of the cottage. It was more like earlier ages where everyone slept in the same bed. Not as brutal as that but still a lot closer than the four bedroom Cape Cod back in town.  It was natural to see family members in various unintended states of undress while on the way or back from the lake.  Perhaps it was a natural progression to my high school outings with dates running around naked with the big old windows open and the lake breezes rushing in.  Everything was dark, of course.  We were quiet to avoid the neighbors looking in on us.  But, now that I think about it, they must have seen the car out front.  And yet there were no lights on.  Hmmmm.  The closest neighbor had a teenage son my age so perhaps they just felt like they had enough problems.  Why look for more?  There were no drugs or alcohol involved.  Just lovely bodies running around and trying to find the moon for a better perspective.  And much kissing and petting.  Oh yes, much of that to remember. 

In high school I was the president of the cultural exchange program that brought students from other countries to our school and the reverse process too.  I remember the wonderful girl we had from Brazil one year.  She was dark and quite petit. She had a wonderful personality, always laughing and a little shy.  She was beautiful.  I invited her out the the cottage, we call it "the camp" one weekend and we had a great time.  We took the boat out and cruised the lake.  I think she really enjoyed it.  I remember we had one kiss at some point.  And I remember the kiss.  It was exotic and wonderful.  It was the greatest pleasure in the world at that time.  And that was it!  I never invited her out to our place again.  I never asked her out.  I often wonder what was wrong with me back then on certain occasions.  It was not, as a general rule, the way I proceeded with affairs of the heart.  In any case, it was certainly a good thing that I did not get involved with a foreign exchange student in any way that could have led to broken hearts on either side.  As president of the org. that would not have been a good move.  It most certainly have led to the loss of a four year scholarship I received at graduation and a change of venue for the next four years.  Boston University would not have been on the table at that point.  Although one can only imagine, at that time, tuitions that were around one thousand dollars per semester.


I remember sleeping out on the porch when my parents were back in the bedroom (it's really hard figuring out where everyone must have slept.  I had three sisters.  Where did they sleep?)  Did I ever inquire or show any interest?  Doubtful.  But sleeping on the porch with the windows open and the night breeze coming in, the moon up there peeking between the tree limbs, was pretty nice.  it wasn't the Bahamas. But it was a memory that will keep you around for a few years.  And the squirrels tap dancing on the roof in the morning was a sound effect that stays with me now.  The stillness of the water in the early morning was amazing.  It was an enormous mirror and completely silent. There was something vaguely holy about it as well. I could imagine the souls of everyone around the lake out there in their dreams, caring for each other in a neighborly way. And there was just an occasional kiss from a fish spreading rings towards me on the shore as I attempted to make their day with a line and some bait.  You could always see them down below circling whatever got tossed their way.  They were not big fans of marshmallows.  I really did not fit into that scene and as I grew older spent less and less time fishing.  As you can see there were other things to catch.  They were not "things" of course.  I search for a word to put in that sentence but cannot come up with one.  We go from fish to ladies and then later to lovers.  And then much later back to fish and food for dinner.  Wives who prepare great meals and have a kind word for an old man.  It is a progression towards the peace on can see on an early morning lake before the boats and breezes arrive.  We are where we should be before we even start on our travels, if only we had known. 

I spent hours in a hammock between  two trees reading books about faraway places.  Mao was in the news back then.  You couldn't get further away than that.  And lives that seemed far riskier than mine although I nearly died at the hospital in Worcester.  This may have been why they bought the cottage in the first place. The times line up pretty well. I don't remember any kisses during that trip.  Just being eight years old and enduring lots of needles in the ass. It will teach you something though. I recall everyone laughing when I returned for an OP visit to the clinic and walked up to the nurse with everyone watching lowered my trousers and stuck out my butt.  Other than that, the happiest, most peaceful moments must have been those close to dying.  And my little radio full of magic.  McDonald hamburgers for 25 cents. The last thing to go is sound.

I was never much of an athlete but I learned to slalom ski and enjoyed tumbling in the water.  Crashes that never hurt too much. I wore thick glasses but got contacts later.  I got strong by high school and turned up first day with a nice tan and a new short sleeve white shirt, light brown corduroy pants and new shoes.  I was handing out stuff to all the class when I suddenly realized I was getting a lot of looks.  And it wasn't about the material i was distributing.  Something else was going on.  But I had no idea how to handle it. I was still trying to figure out what the hell they were talking about in the tv series, Peyton Place.  Didn't have a clue. I was an innocent in a strange arrangement of bricks.
There was much later that changed that.  Maybe I will write about it.  I enjoy these recollections.  They exercise memory. And they will be a keepsake for my grandkids, great grandkids...because they absolutely are gonna want to know.  Or not.  I know I would have enjoyed it with my grandparents from Wales and othe places. 

And one more memory I had forgotten about until now.  All of us standing in the water waist deep in the early morning with a couple of bars of ivory soap.  Because, as I said, there was no bathtub or shower in the cottage.  Every one soaping up while it was quiet and there were not too many people around to watch the family bathe together.  That one sticks with me.  I don't know why I didn't remember it until now.  Perhaps it was in a special place by itself with a decorative lock like some things are.  We got clean together.  We were a unit before we went our separate ways.