AUGUST DAYS I GREW UP HERE!
August days I grew up here
In New England, two weeks each year…
Our Dad and Mom would save
For those vacation days,
When both families had them near.
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The Cottage built near Cousin Eddie
With a little cleaning soon was ready…
The sheets and blankets moth-ball scented
After driving all day, presented
A time of rest—after canned spaghetti!
-
Next day we’d start the rounds,
South Street to Hutnak grounds….
Uncle Andie, Aunt Ida
And their kids “multiplied-ah”
With lots of little kids’ sounds.
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We’d visit uncles and aunts,
Discovering old family haunts…
“Uncle Johnny’s” in town
And folks would come down
Just to ask their personal preacher about their wants.
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Sometimes impromptu,
Dad and Mom would sit through…
Someone’s plea for advice
While we kids would be nice,
Till the private consultations were through.
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Then Dad would often say
We need to get away…
Take a trip “down” to Maine
Or to Mystic* to obtain
Another view of our heritage and play.
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Oh, the lobster and whole-bellied clams,
Boiled, fried or steamed on demand….
And MOXIE** ice-cold
With a taste rather bold,
While GEORGE’S*** in Point Judith was grand!
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Then nearly at the end of two weeks,
We’d buy more mothballs for the sheets…
Close the windows—drain the pump—
Take a last trip to the dump,
And hope over winter there are no leaks.
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For years and years this ritual
Kept us coming back to dwell…
In our Cottage with family
We desired yearly to see,
As time passed we treasured this well.
—Jonathan Caswell
AUTHOR’S NOTES: *Mystic, CT (Mystic Seaport, Museum)
**MOXIE…A regional soda flavored with gentian root NOT available at “home”.
***GEORGE’S RESTAURANT, in Galilee, RI, which we watched grow from a tiny clam shack into a big fancy restaurant right on the R.I. State beach!

hopefully we will never lose our memories, Mystic one of my favorite places, however Plymouth is my favorite enjoyed the write
By: Ron DuBour on June 27, 2012
at 9:46 am
A woman at work stopped by to compare notes on Point Judith and tell me a few more interesting places in Rhode Island. I don’t know why, but the parents never took us—that I remember—through Plimouth Plantation. Maybe they did it with my brother Nate and it was too much to handle with toddlers…?
By: Jonathan Caswell on June 28, 2012
at 11:18 pm
Reblogged this on OUR POETRY CORNER.
By: Jonathan Caswell on July 1, 2012
at 11:48 am