Our week in Rhode Island after a 26-year absence was both familiar and novel. We gaped out the plane window trying to find our old house on Canonchet Ave. and argued about whether we were spotting Wickford or Pawtuxet Cove. After arriving and sharing lunch with Jo and Lee-Anne, we actually got lost on the 40 mile drive to Misquamicut and found ourselves in the cul-de-sac of Route 108 and Point Judith. Our beach rental set on a huge salt pond was perfect.
Paul took me on my first canoe ride soon after we got there and we were delighted to find that the pond was lovely and quiet and provides a habitat to so many egrets and herons. At night we could hear the ocean at high tide and the crashing waves lulled us to sleep just as they had so many years ago.
Our visit was planned around seeing all of our dear RI friends. John and Mary came on Sunday bringing their kayaks and after paddling to our hearts’ content, we had dinner at a restaurant with tables right on the beach so that we could feel the cool sand under our bare feet while we ate. Monday we stopped in to see Diana Loeffler in East Greenwich and brought her to have lunch by the water. Newport was on the agenda for Tuesday. Paul spent the day with Fred while Jo-Anne and I dined at Castle Hill and followed that up with pedicures in town.
The next few days were filled with hurricane warnings. Predictions were dire and we envisioned Earl barreling up the coast (it never happened) and wiping out homes and boardwalks. Paul eventually prepared our rental for the worst, taping up windows and garaging the porch furniture. We changed our plan from a Friday house party to a communal dinner at Twin Oaks. And although the storm petered out, the alternate plan was a great one.
Gathering after so many years – more than 40 years of friendship - we were chatty and energized. We were also grayer, more lined and worn by the decades. We caught up on kids and grandkids, parents and friends who have passed, ways we are spending –or hoping to spend- retirement. Everyone looked so good. That used to mean something different. Lookin’ good was wearing those sexy high heels or the new lipstick or, for the guys, the black turtleneck and jeans. Now the turtle’s neck is a permanent part of each of us. Looking good means looking pretty healthy and bearing a fair resemblance to how we used to look. We all recognized each other!
We also recognized the humor, the political insight and all the Rhode Island-isms. The waiter asked, “Hower ya doin’?” with the unique Cranston accent and we knew exactly where we were. There is so much in common – RI College, politics, memories of social service jobs and – of course – Volkswagens. Karen, Bill, Carole, Al, Rick, Martha, Mary and John all with generous hearts and kind words, we revelled in their company. Dinner was followed by a cabaret of sorts at the airport hotel where we resurrected the 60’s in song (shedding a few tears in the process) and pushed through the lyrics of a few show tunes as well. It was a lovely time. And even though we are in our 7th decade, it’s not too late to start an annual tradition.
