2006-06-06 - 10:11 p.m.
"CUE THE BUTTERFLY..."
Some of you may remember my recap of Summer �05 in the entry entitled �Idyll�Not So Ideal.� (If not, check the archives below�b/c it was pretty funny.) Anyway, in it I talked about having spent 23+ summers at the same rental cottage in Quogue, despite said cottage�s lack of amenities and arguable �rusticity��and, more importantly, the palpable loneliness of being out there week after week�um, ALONE�with nothing to do and nowhere to go. So, this year, after much back-and-forth ping-pong of the brain�I decided to close up shop on my little cottage and free myself for other pursuits.No more Hampton Jitney�and those wretched �Jitney girls� with the streaked hair and the Blackberrys. No more pretending to like the beach. No more freaking out when the sun went down and there was nowhere to WALK. No more long, lonely nights�listening to the raccoons (I think!!) in the attic. No more June bugs ping, ping, ping-ing against the windowscreens. No more rusty old car in the driveway. No more Tanger Outlet Mall (okay�THAT I�ll miss!!)
The Ryders, who own this little cottage-o-mine, were shocked when I told them in March that I wasn�t coming back�but, despite saying they would �miss me��and that it �wouldn�t be the same without me��and all that other �end-of-an-era� kind of banter�I think they were secretly thrilled that they could now get market rates for the season. To their credit�and to my everlasting gratitude, they had kept the rent absurdly low all these years. They are Christian mensches of the first order..!!
So�at the end of April, I rented a big, dumb American car (a Chevy Nova, I think)�and drove out to Quogue one last time to retrieve clothes, photos, books, etc�mementos of Elizabeth�s childhood summers and of our more recent years out there�and to spend time reflecting, reminiscing and packing up.
Wrapping up 23 years of summer memories would seem like a wrenching, daunting task; however, given the boredom and restlessness of the past three or four seasons (particularly after Elizabeth moved to Toronto), it was actually not so bad. I thought the process of sifting through all that stuff and putting things in boxes would take the whole DAY�but, in fact, I was done in about an hour-and-a-half. Snap, snap, snap! It was weird, too, because Merrill and Clara Mae watched my every move, as if I were gonna walk off with an extra sea shell or something. (Chris insists they just wanted to spend this good-bye time with me.) Anyway, they jabber, jabber, jabbered away�when I would have preferred to just be alone with my memories�and the soothing monotony of packing.
I left the bicycles, the TV, the CD player, all the bedding, pillows, towels, beach totes, toiletries�all that stuff behind. Didn�t want or need any of it.
So, boys and girls� here�s a partial list of the few items I drove home with after 23 years:
--Pictures of Elizabeth and me that Chris had taken when Elizabeth was 12 and completely flat-chested..!! These photos always make us smile�especially now that Elizabeth is a voluptuous double-DD..!!
--Two small glass prescription bottles from a Quogue pharmacy that no longer exists. E. found them when a big old house on Shinnecock Ave. was being renovated. They date from the early 1900�s. I don't recall what the medicines were...but certainly not Klonopin or Celexa. No depression or anxiety for those early Quogue-ites.
--Pots and pans we had bought to replace the rusty aluminum Alzheimer-producing vessels originally found in the cottage.
--Wind chimes.
--A 1982 Newsday review of Ted�s clam chowder�from the days when he was a chef at the Caffrey House.
--Children�s books, including �The Thingumajig Book of Manners� and �What Do You Say To a Kangaroo?��two of Elizabeth�s favorites.
--Thank-you notes from cottage guests, including HILARIOUS ones from Peter Quinn and Jeff Casper, among others. Just too funny. Total keepers.
--A potato masher.
--A brand-new Easy-Off citronella candle.
--An old newspaper clipping of a super-fried George Hamilton sitting in an armchair. Don�t ask me why�but it was tacked up in the kitchen for YEARS. And it always cracked me up.
--Chicken and rooster refrigerator magnets.
--Elizabeth�s paintings of beach scenes, fish and fisherman.--Painted stones.
--Paper dolls.
--A fabulous pair of gardening gloves (not that I�ll need them now).
--A framed copy of a Peter Quinn neurotic ballpoint pen �maze� drawing on looseleaf paper.
--The hand-painted driftwood sign Elizabeth made to mark our driveway: �Mann � 67�
�and that�s about it, folks.
On the drive back home I was thinking about what I would miss the most�the garden, the flowers, the intoxicating smell of honeysuckle (especially in early evening), the amazingly LOUD birdsongs, the bees and the worms doing their thing, the baby bunnies, etc. I loved digging around in the garden on beautiful sunny days�birds atwitter, intense blue skies, the sun on my back, the earthy smell of marigolds, dizzy daisies and black-eyed susans and the super-tall cosmos of every color (my favorites). It never failed that just when I thought this couldn�t be any more relaxing and beautiful�a single butterfly would flutter into view, and I would always laugh and say to myself, �Cue the butterfly��as if I were directing the perfect summer scene. �Cue the butterfly��it became a little secret ritual of mine. I�m sure I actually said it out loud a few times.
Well, today I was biking along the Hudson River and it was beautiful outside�sun on my back and reflecting on the river; the sweet smell of honeysuckle and lilac and beach roses all along the path. Birds crazily singing�so clear, even over the traffic sounds. A riot of pansies, petunias, azaleas and geraniums. And just when I thought it couldn�t be more peaceful and delicious�a butterfly flew in front of my bicycle, and I said, �Cue the butterfly��and everything felt so right. "Cue the butterfly"...and everything felt PERFECT.
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