This is from a never-posted short story of mine, about my adventures living in Pennsylvania and New Jersey; it's an
excerpt only.
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One day that same early autumn [this was 1981], Aunt Jay announced we were going to Maine, with the ancient physician and his wife. I did not want to go to Maine, but as it seemed important to Aunt Jay, who was more frail than ever, I agreed, but hoped I could weasel out of it somehow.
I did, too. The Italianate physician owned a seaside home near Old Saybrook, Connecticut; I’d been there a few times by then. It had shelves and shelves of bound copies of old
Journals of the American Medical Association; not for reference, but for appearance. There was a lot of history in these old magazines, and I’d always wanted to read them.
There were going to be renovations made on this place while the owners were in Maine.
They, really, should have somebody around, to keep an eye on things.
It was an eminently practical solution--I could get Aunt Jay to Springfield--and then could stay there.
And so I spent eleven days in that seaside home, blissfully alone most of the time. I did find that those solitary Rose Kennedy-like strolls on foggy mornings on the beach, while probably therapeutic for many, did nothing for me. There were of course television, radio, stereo, whatnot, but those were of no use for me. I spent mostly all my time reading the old
Journals.
The one weekend I was there, however, I got introduced to the New England prep-school yuppie crowd, when some children and grandchildren of the physician came down to use the place. They were from Boston, Cambridge, Andover, and many were at or near my own age.
They were perfect guests; they knew why I was there, and tried not to intrude.
They did however one time insist I join them sailing, which I did for a whole afternoon. It was okay. And then another time, they insisted I join them in a cookout, which I did. It was okay. Being from Nebraska, I was a specimen of humanity they’d never seen before, and I was responsible for giving them a good impression of us.
They were all very nice people, but I thought somewhat shallow and hedonistic.