“We used to run this place out of a Ci-Garr Box and it worked just fine!” - State Park guy while battling data entry into mystifying State Park computer.
Wednesday, August 16-Rain, Rain Go Away......... I wake up early (again!) and gather up piles of laundry to take to downtown Amherst. The yellow pages ad lists the laundromat on College Street’s hours so I’m parked outside promptly at 7AM. The man arrives with the key and I get 3 or 4 machines up and working at once. The light drizzle of early morning suddenly gets replaced by an absolutely torrential thunderstorm. I was sitting in the van listening to WFCR and suddenly a tremendous flash of lightning intervened followed closely by an equally tremendous clap of thunder. All was suddenly quiet on the radio - I think the studio facilities are just a block away or so. I was thinking it was like being in a banana republic during a military coup. “OK, they’ve got the transmitter!” My washing machines never lost power, though, so all is well.
I swung by the motel during the drying cycle and picked up the little boys to return to Amherst to help me fold (Yeah, right). They came back and we threw our newly cleaned clothes into a few bags and got going. We partaked heavily of the motel’s continental breakfast and started the long march of stuff out of our temporary home. We finally got packed up and headed East on Rt. 9 towards Belchertown.
I was determined to take the boys to see Quabbin Reservoir, one of my favorite stomping grounds when I lived in this area. It is rather impressive and we crossed the top of the dam and parked down near where the Swift River bubbles out of a hole below the Power Plant.
We boys decided to hike up the grassy face of the gigantic earthen dam which impounds hundreds of millions gallons of water for Eastern Massachusett’s thirsty greedy palates. It was quite the climb and I decided that I didn’t particularly want to attempt the return trip with the little boys so we sent Brad back down the hill to fetch Mommy and the van.
Brad felt very useful being given this important mission - it was interesting watching him deliberately making his way down towards our vehicle from our vantage point high above him. When he reached Sally they both looked up and saw the three of us other guys on the berm silhouetted by the morning sky.
“We’re so far away, I can’t even tell which one of those guys is Daddy,” Sally playfully mused.
“He’s the TALL one,” Brad answered helpfully.
Due to my diminished mental capacity caused by the onslaught of advancing years I neglected to take my progeny to the State Fish Hatchery, previously a hot tourist attraction in the area. We traveled back into B-town and turned left down Rt. 181 towards Bondsville. I always think of this stretch of road when I think of my commute to work then and now - It still has its charm and is only a little more developed. I pass the two room school in South Belchertown where I voted against Reagan in 1980 and paused long enough at 800 Franklin St. to snap a few pictures - the little four room apartment I lived in with Kathy Patrician has new aluminum siding (at least new since I lived there).
We passed through downtown Bondsville and saw that the “Gin Mill’s” door was propped wide open at 11AM, beckoning a friendly invitation to thirsty revelers. Good to see that some things never change.
We headed east on Route 20 towards the Greater Sturbridge / Southbridge area. I was sitting in the back seat and at one point Brad tried to involve me in a rather ill conceived conspiracy: “When we get there, let’s not listen to Mommy!” I quickly tried to dissuade him from this dangerous and stupid course of action. The little boys kept chattering away on the trip about bunk beds, obviously believing that the cabins at Bass River State Forest was our true destination that day.
We finally got to Rick and Joan Sullivan’s house in Southbridge after missing a few key turns due to downtown construction. We were greeted by the sight of a gigantic inflatable “Moon Bounce” which Rick had rented in honor of Tim Sullivan’s (9th?) birthday. Brad spent the afternoon bouncing around in it with the other kids and the little boys played with construction equipment out in the sandbox before venturing off to nap time.
I decided to try to fix the headlight on the van, increasingly cursing a succession of Rick’s Phillips head screwdrivers for being inadequate until I realized I was dealing with the dreaded curse of American motor car manufacturing, the “Torx” head. He actually had a well stocked inventory of “Torx” head drivers so once I realized the error of my ways the new headlight was installed. We deflated the Moon Bounce and folded it up and Rick and I returned it to the rental place. Towards late afternoon we made our way over to Wells State Park, the lake of which I realized I had passed countless numbers of times whence journeying on the Massachusetts Turnpike (MassPike, everyone calls it: one word). We had trouble checking in which I now realize was due to the man at the office trying to enter an out-of-state address into an in-state data field (the reservation had originally been made in Joan’s sister’s name).
We parked the canoe against a tree in our campsite and Ben and Gabe enjoyed climbing on it. Making a fire was too much for us so Joan brought cold cuts and we pleasantly dined on cold sandwiches. Brad greatly enjoys the company of Timothy and Matthew and follows them endlessly in all their pursuits.
Everyone’s getting a giggle from holding the small portable hot dog griller (an ancestral hand-me-down from 761 Hyslip Avenue days) in front of their faces and pretending to be in jail. We bed down for the night and have a rather successful evening sleeping in the tent, a worry for us given the little boys’ fickle nature about the slightest break in their established routines.
