“Some places are like people. Some shine and some don’t.” –Dick Hallorann, The Shining
For 30 years, the Elterich Cottage in South Kingston, Rhode Island shined. A spacious house tucked away in the woods, within a short driving distance of several beaches, it served as the perfect setting for birthdays, weekends, vacations, spending time with family, partying with friends, or just getting away for a night.
I was 9 when my parents bought the house, set back a good 100 yards from Matunuck School House Road. The dirt driveway, commonly referred to as the entrance to the Batcave, took travelers on a windy path through the woods and eventually opened up to a large grass patch next to a brown, 2-story (including the basement) house and a wooden deck. The deck was massive, large enough to hold 30 years of family gatherings and parties.
A large staircase led from the main deck to a smaller deck and the front door. I always hated sweeping the leaves and sticks off the decks and stairs as a kid. It felt like half of my day was spent sweeping, although it probably took all of 10 minutes. Even on vacation, my parents made sure I understood hard work and responsibility.
I realized early on how lucky I was to have a "vacation" home. It's just not a thing most people have. It took me a little longer to appreciate my parents' openness with the house. When I was young, it felt obvious that my friends would be able to stay with me for the weekend, and go to the beach and eat burgers and fish and corn on the cob and play ping pong. But not every parent is willing to do that for their kids and kids' friends. My parents also let family and friends stay there when they weren't using it, something else a lot of people wouldn't do, not without charging a crazy amount anyway.
The stairs to the front door of the house have presented a problem in the last few years as my mother has lost the ability to walk. My dad had an electric stair chair installed, which helped for a while. Fortunately, Gremlins never toyed with it and shot my mom up into the night sky, but it was still a lot of extra work to get to a house that was supposed to provide a restful getaway.
More than that, though, maintaining a second house was just too much. We would all have loved to keep the house forever, but the reality is that it cost money and required a lot of effort from my Dad to maintain. Besides, it wasn't getting much use, certainly not enough to warrant the time, money, and effort. We're 90 minutes away, and I'm not really a huge beach guy anyway; one reason I liked the house so much growing up was that it wasn't right on the beach, crowded in with other cookie cutter cottages. My brother and his family are even further away, and the same goes for most of my family. As far as spending weekends there with a big group of friends, it's hard to get a group of friends together nearby, let alone in a different state. Plus people have kids and we're at the age where everyone wants their own bed; sleeping on the floor with some pillows next to three other guys just won't cut it anymore. It's a decent sized house, but long gone are the days when 10-12 people could stay over night comfortably.
Ahh, youth.
It's sad to say goodbye and not have the option of "heading down to Rhode Island" at any time, but it was a necessary step. Moving or selling a house is hard because in addition to losing the house, it feels like losing the memories, too. Every corner of every room contained multiple memories, and being there was like traveling to the past. Each visit also created new memories, stacked on top of the old ones. There was always a special energy in the house, the vibrations of all those cherished moments. Spending time there flooded me with positive feelings. Almost everyone (animals included) I've ever cared for has spent time there.
But of course, memories stay with us, whether the house (or person, or pet) is with us or not. All we can do is cherish those memories.
Although I didn't live there, the house in Rhode Island has been in my life longer than any other home. I lived with my parents in Hartford for 14 years, then West Hartford for about 11 years (my parents have been in WH for 25 years total). But I have been celebrating birthdays and Independence Days, and spending weekends and summer weeks at the house in Rhode Island for 3 decades straight.
Four generations experienced that house, albeit not at the same time. My nieces and my grandmothers both spent time there. I remember being there with my grandmother, E-Mommy, while my parents were out. I jumped off the top deck and somehow hit my chin against my knee, almost biting my tongue off. I ran in crying and she calmed me down, soothed the injury, and told me not to worry about getting in trouble. Exactly what I needed to hear.
Even the things I hated as a kid bring back positive feelings now. When we were down there on the weekend, even when my friends were there, we always had to go to church, where a guy played guitar poorly and everyone sang poorly. But that was the price we had to pay to go to the flea market (which had cheap t-shirts and baseball cards) and the beach, or to get corn on the cob and rent a movie from the local video store.
There was a local video store! I remember watching Ace Ventura over and over for an entire weekend one time with a friend. For a long time we only had basic cable, so we didn't have many options if we didn't rent a movie. I remember watching many episodes of The Commish and Father Dowling's Mysteries. We also had a ton of puzzles and board games. My two favorite were always Pictionary and Pass the Pigs.
I loved being down there with friends, or just my brother and parents. I really liked the solitude as well. I had a lot of time to myself, and I read a lot. I also explored the woods around the house, but I never went too deep because the mosquitoes were monstrous. I loved the little stream next to the house, where ducks and geese would swim by and sometimes come up to the porch for bread. Until our dog Dakota caught one. They found another stream after that.
I also got to drive my Dad's old little red moped around town. I'd spend hours riding. If a friend was down there we'd alternate between the moped and a bike. I only ran out of gas once, and only fell off once. I also burnt my leg on the exhaust once and my hair still doesn't grow there. But I'll always think of the little red moped when I think of Rhode Island.
And the ice cream shop. Tropic Frost. It just wasn't a trip to Rhode Island without stopping there. My mom had to get her black raspberry chocolate chip. I had to get a massive hot fudge sundae. That was always a great way to end a day at the beach.
Early on we put up a basketball hoop in the driveway. Even though the court was mostly dirt and stones, we made the most out of it, until it was too rotted out. We also made the most out of the ping pong table, which was lopsided when we first got it. I don't know how it lasted a weekend let alone 30 years. If you leaned on it the whole thing collapsed. But I honed my ping pong skills there and now use my superior ping pong skills to beat kids at work.
I always preferred crabbing to fishing. Moonstone Beach had a great spot for blue crabs. There was a small sand bridge over a lagoon, right before the beach itself. We'd stand on the bridge and drop a fishing line tied to a big chicken drumstick into the water. When we first started, we'd see a dozen crabs scurrying after the chicken. When one grabbed on, we'd slowly pull it closer until we could reach it with a net, then scoop it right out. We'd catch ten in an hour. A couple giant snapping turtles lived in there, and we scooped those bad boys up, too. We'd immediately put them back but it was cool to watch them snapping their teeth at us. In later years, we'd be lucky to catch a couple crabs the entire afternoon. Maybe we overdid it those early years.
Of course, those weren't the only type of crabs you could catch at Moonstone Beach....I think that was the first place I saw the nude body of a stranger in real life. Going to a nude beach was...not exactly the experience I imagined it would be. Mostly because the beachgoers at Moonstone tended to be members of the AARP. It was one of my first experiences learning the value of limited expectations. But I also learned to appreciate body positivity and that people are entitled to do what they want with their bodies, even if they maybe shouldn't.
As I got older, my parents trusted my friends and I with the house for occasional getaways. We always managed to respect the house while enjoying ourselves. I even willingly swept the decks! Only once, the cops were called on us. Actually, it was twice but in the same night. The vast woods around the house carry every single sound, and apparently our neighbors didn't like our sing-a-long. But we loved it.
It would have been great to always have it as an option for vacations or weekends, but we're not rich, and healthcare is an expensive, tragic joke in this country. The house wouldn't be used enough to make it worthwhile. Holding on to it just for the sake of memories isn't realistic, and it wouldn't be fair, either. Houses are for people to use, not sit empty for 350 days of the year. It's a great house and space, and hopefully some other family or group of people can make the lasting memories that we did.
So, Elterich Cottage, thanks for the memories. Mom and Dad, thanks for providing this amazing place for me and Mike to experience during our formative years, and well beyond. Family and friends, thank you all for helping to make this place special. It will be greatly missed, but it's time to move on. So it goes.
I Love You All...Class Dismissed.
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