Cooperative Living October 2017 - 42

Rural Living | by Margo Oxendine, Contributing Columnist
Glorious Fall Foliage, and
Vivid Vacation Recollections
We rode the Stratton ski lift up the empty slopes, gazing down at the
blazing fall countryside. It was delightful. I swear, I'd move to Vermont,
if it did not require actually moving.
A
hhh, it's October: My favorite
month! That's when the rural
countryside is at its most
glorious. And, it's also when I usually
take my vacation.
Not this year. I couldn't wait any
longer, and did it in mid-September.
Because I'm no longer capable of making
the arduous trek to Virginia Beach in one
harrowing five-hour day, I convinced a
longtime pal to share the driving, and
the room at the wonderful Belvedere.
I can't say more, because it hadn't
happened yet when this column was
due. I do know this: We gazed at the
ocean, we ate breakfast at the delicious
Belvedere diner. We rode bicycles. We
trod the boardwalk at sunset. We
probably ate dinner every night at
Rockefeller's. Ahhhh.
I fondly and with great sentiment
recall one of the best vacations ever.
Mom and I were perfect travel
companions. So, one October, we took
what we laughingly called a " busman's
vacation. " We left the autumnal glory of
Bath County behind, got in the car, and
headed to Vermont. We'd planned to
" swing by " Niagara Falls, where my
parents spent some of their honeymoon.
Mom was famous for " swinging by "
places. My sister and I still laugh when
we think of Mom wielding the road map
(remember those?) while Daddy drove.
" Why don't we swing by and visit the
Duncans? " she suggested. " It's only two
inches out of our way! "
Daddy, famous for gripping the wheel
in his hands and his pipe in his teeth,
was having none of it. He was always
hell-bent on getting to our destination.
Once we'd arrive, he became a
completely changed man, full of fun
and a sense of adventure. But while on
the road? We learned early to just keep
our suggestions to ourselves. No, we
40 | Cooperative Living | October 2017
were not stopping at Stuckey's
(remember those?). No, we were not
having a restaurant meal. We always
traveled with a full picnic basket, a full
cooler and plenty of snacks. We felt
lucky if he stopped at a restroom. Once,
he insisted we " go " in the woods
beside the road. I found it
quite traumatic.
Thankfully, I've never
done it since.
So, Mom and I
did not swing by
Niagara Falls
that October. It
was at least six
inches out of
our way, and the
trip from
Virginia to New
England was
much, much further
than we'd imagined.
We took a few days to
visit my cousin Janet at her
magnificent home on the water in
Old Saybrook, Connecticut. We were
gypsies in the palace, we joked. One
night, Janet and her husband left us at
the house with her mother, my Aunt
Elsie. Things went well until I tried to
dim the dining room lights before
dinner, and made the huge blunder of
pressing the " panic alarm " instead. I
never knew such a thing existed, but we
all found out exactly what happens
when a panic alarm is activated: A loud
disembodied voice demands one " leave
the premises immediately. " A blaring
horn alerts the neighborhood. The police
arrive forthwith, armed and unsmiling.
They don't accept stupidity as an excuse.
Worst of all, no one but the homeowners
know " the code " to make the
cacophonous clamor cease. We left the
next morning. Never since invited back.
We took day trips
through the awe-inspiring
countryside, looking for
covered bridges and
praying we'd see
a moose.
In Vermont, we were in paradise.
Janet has a cushy " cabin " in Stratton, a
ski resort. There were 10 bedrooms, so
we slept in a different one each night. We
took day trips through the awe-inspiring
countryside, looking for covered bridges
and praying we'd see a moose.
Although the road signs kept
promising it, our prayers
were not answered. We
shopped. Somewhere
- it may have
been Vermont
or maybe
Massachusetts
- we swung
by Norman
Rockwell's
home, now a
museum. We rode
the Stratton ski lift
up the empty slopes,
gazing down at the
blazing fall countryside.
It was delightful. I swear, I'd
move to Vermont, if it did not require
actually moving.
Around here, country store shelves are
stocked with chewing tobacco, beef jerky
and Vienna sausage. In Vermont, country
stores offer gourmet cheeses, hand-knit
sweaters, fine wine and great coffee.
I really miss those vacations with
Mom. I am so glad I had a big,
cumbersome Canon camera and took
lots of photographs. These were the oldfashioned
kind that you can put in an
album. Every now and then I get out
my Vermont album and page through it.
It's almost as good as a vacation with
Mom. Almost. 
To read more of Margo's columns, order
" A Party of One. " Call 540-468-2147
from 9-5, Monday-Thursday, or email:
recorder@htcnet.org.
www.co-opliving.com
http://www.co-opliving.com
Cooperative Living October 2017

Table of Contents for the Digital Edition of Cooperative Living October 2017
