A trip back in time

Thursday, July 5 (Day 10) — It's raining again tonight. Not as heavy as last night, but pretty steady with a few bursts of heavy downpour that give the balcony of our hotel room another good soaking. We got lucky that we returned from visiting with my grandparents early enough this evening that we had a bit of rain-free weather in which to go watch the fireflies down in the common area of the hotel near the gazebo. Ben enjoyed being able to run around the lawn for a bit, although it was still sopping wet from last night and most of today, and he slipped and got very muddy. Fortunately, Roni finished with the laundry here last night, so there were several days of clothes available for Ben after he got out of the shower.

Several days. That's all we've got left here, and yet it seems as though the vacation is only just beginning. New York was a hurdle we had to get over, then it all seems easy by comparison. Well, mostly.

Today was a bit of a nostalgic sidetrip for me, as it was the first time I have been to see the home of my grandparents Henry in Sewell, N.J., since 1980. It had been so long, in fact, that the post office now has them living in Mullica Hill, although their home is physically in the same place where it has been for as long as I've been on the face of this earth. Finding it from King Of Prussia wasn't too difficult with the directions I downloaded from MapQuest, although I did manage to get turned around when I turned onto Jackson Road and went the wrong direction. It was only because I vaguely recognized the creek where they used to take me as a child that I was able to find their place at all. It is a bit more overgrown than I remembered it, and the driveway is behind a blind spot on a hill amid a new community of large homes. My Uncle Dave described the transformation of the area from rural to suburban as "depressing." I had already seen photos of it that my brother Sean had taken on a previous visit, so perhaps I was more prepared for what I saw. Because my last visit here was 27 years ago, I had few memories to compare it to what it was like back then. But I could see that "progress" has taken its toll on what always had been my grandparents' home in the country, amid the big New Jersey woods.

Ben and Roni had absolutely nothing to compare it to, as this was their first visit to Sewell. I was as excited to share the moment with them as I was to be standing in my grandparents' front yard again for the first time in nearly three decades, fulfilling a personal goal I'd had for several years to get back to see them at least once more. They greeted us warmly as we climbed out of the car shortly after 11 a.m.

We sat down in their family room off the kitchen and visited for a bit, sharing tales of our vacation and watching the comings and goings of birds and squirrels at the feeder on their back lawn. I, of course, took all the photos and video I could, trying to remember all the things about their home that the passage of time had fogged. The furnishings have changed so little since my last visit. They still have the reel-to-reel tape recorder in the living room, and the piano I used to make noise on. The sofas and chairs and carpets seem to hardly have aged at all, each well preserved by my grandmother's attention to detail. Preserved about as well as my grandparents themselves, even though they are now in their 90s. My grandmother is still spry, with a quick sense of humor and wonderful stories to tell. My grandfather, softspoken and wise, still passes the time working his favorite crossword puzzles in his easy chair. They've both slowed a bit physically, but they can still get around on their own without mechanical aids. I can only wish that we'll be in that good shape fifty years from now. My grandmother's back is bothering her some, the result of a fall she sustained in the kitchen the other day. She tried to catch her balance and tumbled backward, striking her head against the refrigerator. She seems OK, but is still feeling sore.

We went out for lunch after noon at a place called the Dutch Country Kitchen, which is inside and Amish marketplace close to my grandparents. The business has been open about a year and in addition to the restaurant features bakeries, fresh produce, a candy shop and woodworking crafts. The prices were very good. For lunch I had the special, a "pig roll," which is the Amish equivalent of a pulled pork sandwich, and a cup of chile. The food was decent if not unforgettable. Afterward we wandered through the market and checked out the other goods. Grandmother bought a shoo-fly pie to go with our dinner later in the evening.

Back at the house, Ben and I went down to the basement to check out the shuffleboard court. The basement had always been my favorite place in the house, while at the same time harboring dark corners that terrified me. I've outgrown the fears, but never have forgotten the things I loved about it — that wonderful musty smell that is so unique to my memories of the place that to this day, when I catch a whiff of a similar scent out of context, I am immediately transported there. Going down the stairs and into the basement you feel the temperature change. The humidity of the top floor is replaced by the cool, dryer air below. There are fluorescent shop lights hung at strategic locations, and pulling on one of their strings lights a corner of the basement, revealing a time capsule-like collection of books and board games and kitchen supplies.

I pulled out the old shuffleboard set and showed Ben how to play — at least, how I knew how to play. We played four or five quick games, chasing down the pucks as they vanished underneath the rows of metal shelves that line the basement wall. Ben says he had never played shuffleboard before, even though apparently there is a set at his school. He said he wished we could have a court made in our garage at home, but I told him we'd have to extend the garage about three or four times as long to accommodate it.

Eventually we got outside to explore the yards. Ben had ventured off without me while I was still downstairs checking out the old Reader's Digest condensed books and some of my grandmother's old journals. I looked up the one for the summer of 1977, when as a 12-year-old my folks put me on a plane and I got to spend a month in New Jersey. How fitting to discover that my flight arrived on July 5, 1977 — precisely 30 years ago to the day.

When I went back up top, I took some photos of the back yard, lamenting the loss of a large tree that I once had played under and chased fireflies and turtles near. The tree had been removed because it was leaning dangerously close to the house. The trunk was cut into sections, which my Uncle Dave and Aunt Marie used to line a couple of paths behind the house. Ben had explored those paths thoroughly, but I took a cursory look and then checked out the side of the house where the garden once had been, and then the front yard. There are lots of flowers blooming in the front yard, but there seems to be less lawn than I remember. I suppose that was my general impression of the entire house — that it seemed small. Or maybe as I've grown up my sense of proportion has become more refined. I remember sprawling out on the floor in the living room and watching thunder storms play out in the skies above, thinking how huge everything seemed. Ben and I tried that today, although there was only rain and no lightning. The effect was lost; the memory isn't.

For dinner, Grandmother put together a stew and served it along with salad. We had the shoo-fly pie for dessert with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Ben went back for seconds, was only able to finish half of it, so I wound up polishing off his second piece. I'm gonna gain a ton by the time we get back home.

We took some group portraits out on the front lawn, then it was time to head back to the hotel. My grandmother had invited us to spend the night, but Roni and I couldn't come to a meeting of the minds on how to make it work. We booked our room in King Of Prussia because it is in the heart of Amish country and central to a lot of the people and places we wanted to visit. As much as I would have loved to spend the night at my grandparents' home just one more time, the reality was that doing so wouldn't fit comfortably with our ever-on-the-go style.

So tonight I have one more happy memory to add to many happy memories of childhood visits with my grandparents. For tonight, at least, I am a kid again.