In less than a week Charlotte and I are leaving for Maine and another summer cruising season. The process goes in slow motion until it doesn’t. When I was a kid aching for Christmas to come, my Aunt Sarah (who was my working mother’s daycare operator) would have cousin John and I make paper rings. One ring for each day before Christmas. Each morning we would tear one off the chain and then open the Advent calendar’s dated window. It was, as I said, an achingly slow process, almost unbearable.
I do not remember any of the gifts I so coveted. What I remember is the pomp and circumstance that St. Hilary’s church provided. The midnight mass, the processions, the smell of frankincense mixed in with the Christmas tree’s balsam. It must have been fun for my parents to watch the culmination of their efforts as I/we ripped into the presents.
Though, I do remember Christmas dinners. My mother Theresa, a splendid cook, would always have a surprise. It could be flaming baked Alaska or make your own pizzas or a multilayered German torte, and always there was the once a year treat of Christmas cookies. Once the lights and hilarity of Christmas was gone, I settled into February’s gloom. Chicago was cold back then. To keep my spirits up I dreamed of spring and more importantly, summer vacation.
Time passes quicker now than it did sixty years ago. I am better at keeping myself occupied, so February is not as onerous as it once was. Still the first shoots pushing up through the snow always catch me off guard. My response is tempered because I know there are still months to come before shorts and t-shirts. Dreams shift from darker themes to ones of blue water and skies.
Now my focus can safely shift from surviving the winter to planning for the future. About this time the first boating catalog is delivered. I cannot help but study, often in minute detail, each page. The more relevant the content the more it deserves to be marked by a Post-it Note sticker. A space is set aside in the basement for the myriad of things deemed necessary for a successful summer on Carrie Rose.
Charlotte begins to calculate our route. Maine is about as far away from Chicago as Miami. There is less infrastructure in terms of roads and facilities then on the trip south, so a bit more planning is required. And now that we have made this trip for a decade there are friends to visit, making the calculations more difficult.
Of course, these dilemmas are good to have and having the where-with-all to work through them is a blessing. To watch parents, aunts and uncles, and friends disappear makes each year’s process of getting there more poignant. There is a Japanese saying: Ichi Go, Ichi E; One time - One meeting. We only get one chance . . . go for it!
6/1/2022
