Monday, we got up a little late and it was raining lightly. After enjoying breakfast at the Inn, my dad, knowing I wanted to see some of the historic spots, suggested we go to the Stony Brook Grist Mill and Stony Brook Museum. When we got to the Grist mill, the rain subsided and the waterway in front of the mill was filled with swimming ducks and geese.
We walked up to the mill but found out it was only open Saturdays and Sundays, so we decided to walk around it. The mill was in remarkably good shape for it's age.
After a quick walk around, we decided to go to the St. James General Store. It is an amazing country store that has been preserved and is run by the city. subtle memories of being there with my mother in a younger life prevailed as I walked to the back room and the toy section. My dad also commented on the fact that it had been the toy section since, at least, when he was a kid. With the drizzle outside, we decided to go to the upstairs where they sell books on the area and do some research. A while later we left. I bought some souvenirs for the girls, a hand made stuffed elephant for my mom, a book on butterflies and some local honey for myself. My dad bought some old fashioned candy for us to enjoy while on the road.
From there we drove through the drizzle to the old Nissequogue school house which served as the town hall and police department and had since my dad was a child. The architect of the new Lane's estate had told us that there were some pictures on display there of the house before it was torn down. Of course when we arrived the rain stopped, but the building was closed.
We journeyed back to St. James to see the church where my dad took his religious lessons and my Grandmother helped out in any way she could. The church had a great quality to it, inside and out. The stained glass was amazing.
My grandmother, being a very religious woman, spent a lot of time at the church, so my father had lots of memories to reform there.
As we exited the church, the rain stopped once again. It allowed us to walk the adjoining graveyard and see the names set in stone with bodies once again part of the earth. Out of all the names and all the stones, the only one that struck me was the one with the simple words, "OUR BABY", on it. In the 1800's I imagine there were many of those, but that one nameless child screamed to me through the centuries, "Life is precious!". The words resounded on a small cold piece of stone. Strangely, once again as we got in the car, the rain came hard.
We decided to head back to Tri Village Inn to wait it out. On our arrival, once again, the rain let up and I wondered if the storm was attached to the ignition of the Escape. We walked to the dock and began going down the beach along side of it. The water was quite clear and we could see small fish and Herrmit crabs playing in the surf. We walked a distance before deciding, tempting the weather after so much luck was not a good idea and headed back to the cottage. After a quick stop we decided the Stony Brook Museum would probably be a good next spot. It had been located several houses down from the Inn. Our great fortune with the weather was only outpaced by the misfortune of the places we decided to go to. The Stony Brook Museum had been turned into a residence. After some research I found out it's collections were consolidated into the Long Island Museum. It was just up the road and as my dad told me, was once exclusively a carriage museum. Back to the car we went. After trying to follow the gps to the museum, we found out that not only was the gps a tad off, but that the museum was closed except for the weekends.
With the realization that the museums were not going to happen that day, we decided to continue down my father's memory lanes. He directed me to the Old Field Club. It was still there and completely intact. My father was happy to see it. After a short look around we were off to Huntington Beach.
When we arrived, we decided to skip stones. We searched for a couple of flat ones. At first we had trouble remembering the technique, but after a couple of practice throws, we could consistently get six skips or more.
Walking back to the car, I decided to take some pictures of gulls. When I turned around, to see where my father was, I found him sitting, looking at the waves. For all the memories he had these last two days, I could see in the intensity of his face a realization. The things he knew as a younger man and even he himself, were all still there, they had just been changing in the gentle waves of time
Reed,
ReplyDeleteThanks so much for sharing your Photos and experience. I appreciate the opportunity to see Dad experiencing his past memories. Life is short, and if there is one thing that we learn, it is that you can return, but you can never go back. There is a Chinese saying that "you can never dip your toes in the same river twice." Time marches forward whether we want it to or not. Reminiscing is an indulgence that if not kept in check can lead to remorse and sadness. Appreciation of the past in the context of the present can be a most wonderful experience, one that I hope you and Dad will treasure.......
Thanks again for sharing.
Scott
I was really touched by what you said about the plaque of the nameless child ("Our Baby") and the meaning of life. I like how your stories have depth woven into them. Sounds like a rich time out with your Dad.
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