This self-portrait that my mother painted in oils best describes
the quintessential bliss of a summer's day at the beach – blue skies, gentle
winds, endless sunshine.
It hangs in the living room of the summer house, and it is the
stuff of dreams.
But the tranquility it exhibits belies the calamities that have
happened here since my parents bought the land 50 years ago:
One evening around dusk with calm seas, my husband took my brother
fishing in his boat. As they trawled, the rope from a lobster pot became
entangled around the leg of the motor. Hours later, we called the Coast Guard.
We cried and we prayed. After countless attempts diving under the boat
with a knife in dark waters, my brother cut them free. The Tiverton Water
Police towed them in around midnight.
Our water supply was tainted by Temik, a pesticide used in the
potato field abutting our property.
Hurricane Bob tore down the huge maple tree in front of the summer
house, missing the structure by a few feet.
A cloudless Sunday afternoon, my brother took my father and son on
his sailboat. Out of the blue, a violent thunderstorm forced them to get to
land. We called the Coast Guard. We cried and we prayed. Many hours later, they
were found and towed in.
I stopped at a bookstore near the summer house and was bitten by a
huge rabbit named Eliot, the patron’s pet. I sat on the couch in the beach
house while the gash in my leg with telltale teeth marks throbbed. I got a
tetanus shot.
Climbing on the roof of the summer house to remove the old
antenna, my brother disturbed a bee hive. He climbed down the rungs of the
ladder in record speed but not without incurring their wrath with numerous stings on his arms
and legs.
Hurricane Irene tore down the huge maple tree in the back yard,
missing the shed by a few feet.
My son was cooking on the grill when it malfunctioned. Along with
the meat, his eyebrows and arm hair were singed.
My father took my brother's sailboat out on the bay while my
mother played with my children on shore. After scouring the coastline for hours,
we saw my father floating down the river on the hull of the sailboat. He had
pulled up the centerboard, and it flipped. A kind boater towed him to shore.
One whole season we were terrorized by a pesky skunk who took up
residence on our property.
My mother helped my father carry the heavy picnic table out of the
shed. Inadvertently, he let go of the weight, breaking my mother’s wrist.
In addition, there have been infestations of rodents; countless
mosquito, tick and dog bites; wasps in the well house; hornets in the washing
machine hose; broken pipes; toilet overflows; ceiling cave-ins; bicycle falls;
sunburns; and too many other mishaps to mention.
Yet, despite it all, one of the best things my parents ever did
for us was to buy this little piece of land by the sea.
