By David Butler (started 11/89)
It must have been the year after our legendary camping trip to the white mountains that we struck a deal with Father Harvey, the minister of our Church, to borrow the family cabin on Brandy pond in Maine. I base this on the fact that Jackie must have been about 18. If we had the Volkswagon it would have been 1962, the Valiant would mean summer of 1963. I'm pretty sure we still had the Volkswagon; otherwise I would have been stuck in the back of the station wagon, and I don't remember that.
The trip started out quite normal enough. Nathan and I made sure that our stuffed bears, Honeywood and Edward, had enough clothes, that our pencils were sharpened and that we had an adequate supply of paper. Meanwhile everyone else ran around worrying about inconsequentials.
On our way out of town Dad needed something that required us to stop down by the bank. While we waited for Dad, Jackie asked Mom if she would buy a bottle of Chianti to take with us to Maine. Mom agreed and headed off to the package store, which was in the old Grower's Grocery market building. As Mom walked away from the car Tol stuck his head out the window and plaintively called "Not the grocery money, Mom." Wincing, Mom bravely walked on past a couple of men outside the Liquor store and continued her mission. Trying to cover her embarrassment, Mom made some remark to the effect of "Oh, it's for my husband..." Just then who should walk in but Dad himself, knowing nothing of the shenanigans, he says "It's not for me, I wouldn't touch that stuff." If his shins had been closer they probably would have been quite sore for the rest of the trip.