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Part 3: Frozen in Time We traveled to Sandy
Pond not by car, but by time machine set for 1930. There was indoor
plumbing, but you couldnt drink the tap water. We fetched it across
the street, pumping it from a shared well, something I enjoyed doing,
at least, for two weeks. Many years later my kids did the same, but only
for the novelty. I had long since given up drinking from the well. When
we left for the pond wed take a two-week supply of drinking water
with us. |
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Most of the cottages,
as well as a small hotel, general store and a small marina, were lined
up along a dirt road that intersected with County Highway 15 about 50
feet north of our cottages. That road went north by northeast, parallel
to and a lots length from the pond shoreline. Over time the dirt
turned black under the oil that was used to seal and maintain the road.
The mixture of oil and dirt produced a pungent odor that could be bottled
as The Scent of Sandy Pond. A perfect gift for Pondaholics and
stock car race drivers. Sure to evoke fond memories. MY PARENTS seldom went out to eat. My father was an unusually fussy eater. His list of acceptable foods was short and simple. So simple that my mother was able to cater to her husband while fixing herself and her children completely different meals. However,
Sandy Pond
was, after all, a vacation. Though she cooked dinner more nights than
not, my mother had to take an occasional break from the tiny cottage kitchen
that faced the afternoon sun. On good-weather days the kitchen became
insufferably hot. My favorite was what they used to call a roadhouse. It was at the far end of the dirt road, across from a place called the Hotel Comfort. The restaurants name escapes me. Another Pond veteran told me it was called Tot's Pavillion. Perhaps it was, but I think it might have had another name in the 1940s. I do recall walking through a narrow bar area to a backroom where there were two rows of booths separated by a dancefloor. The menu could have been my mother's weekly meal plan, which meant it was Buster-approved. I'm a fine one to talk. The only time I broke the burger-fries-Coke routine was when we went there on a Friday night. Then the order was fried fish, fries and Coke. Good Catholics in the meatless Fridays era. Our most
memorable night: when the jukebox got stuck on the Johnny Mercer song,
Atchison, Topeka and the Santa Fe. We must have heard it 15 times.
Days passed before it stopped playing in my head. It still kicks in every
now and then. At 7, I didnt understand what was happening. My mother tried to explain, but couldnt. She started crying, too. |
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xxGonna
take a sentimental journey xxSeven,
that's the time we leave, at seven Words
and music by Bud Green,xx
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Jeff
Major stands in front of the "big" cottage in the 1970s. The tree trunk in front of the cottage was a reminder of our near miss the summer before when a young woman drove off the road very late one night and ran into the tree, waking us all. Luckily, she wasn't going too fast. She survived, the tree didn't. I hate to think what might have happened if the tree hadn't been there. |
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Paradise
Found |
ALSO: | ||
| 2 | Head for the Hill | Bernie Carr's stories | ||
| | Climb It No More | The Ice Cometh / The Fishing Expert | ||
| 3 | Frozen in Time | Ooops! | ||
| 4 | The Rise and Fall | Lure of a Lifetime / Love's True Test | ||
| | What Really Happened ... | Bernie's website: www.sandypondny.com | ||
| 5 | Ever Hopeful | |||
| 6 | Nature's Reward | Other Sandy Pond websites: | ||
| 7 | Sandy Pond Today | www.sandypondresorts.com | ||
| 8 | Feedback from the Faithful | www.spcma.homestead.com | ||
| www/pulaskinychamber.com | ||||
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Contact
us at: JMajor9863@aol.com
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