A day of Rest?

No go go go?

Not today.

July 12^th, we planned to spend the evening and the next day at my cousin’s lake house. No subways to take. No places to be at a certain time. No need to even wake up early.

There was a time when I would get up at 7am, march around Paris for 16 hours, drink a bottle of wine, and then pass out in a tent, face-first, on a sleeping bag. Now, I’d be more likely to get up at 9, walk around Paris for 20 minutes, then sit and have about 7 coffees and 52 chocolate croissants, then decide to go back to the hotel for a nap, eat a huge supper and go to bed at 7, face-first, in a big comfy pillow.

The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World was desperate to have a day off. She’d reached her traveling breaking point. I don’t think we could have got her out of bed for anything short of a day of nothing or applying oil to the Rock’s chest or having lunch with Jinkx the Drag Queen.

Jinkx wasn’t available and the Rock wasn’t taking my calls, anymore.

Weird.

After the 9/11 Memorial, our oldest cousin was kind enough to drive us out to her lake house.

With the light fading, we left Manhattan, driving past Captain America on a bike, past the university that made her want to stay in Upper Manhattan forever (Columbia), and over the George Washington Bridge.

The drive through the New York countryside was lovely. Simply lovely. My brother and I had seen it in the winter, a postcard-perfect landscape of powdered white buildings and forlorn-looking trees. In fall, the countryside would have been heartbreakingly beautiful, but even in summer, driving through small, old towns, underneath the weathered, stone bridges, past old houses and farms, it was so beautiful. There is nothing like it in BC.

Unlike New York City, it’s like time stopped out here.

It was dark by the time we arrived at our cousin’s lake house. She has a lovely house overlooking Lake Peekskill, though, at night, it was hard to see.

I loved this house. It has a room built into the rock, a spiral staircase leading to a low-height attic, and enough bedrooms for all of us. It has a fantastic rustic feel. A feeling of peace and quiet.

Almost instantly, we began to feel less stressed.

I don’t think any of us lasted more than an hour before we all went to bed.

Tomorrow would be the Day of Relaxation!

July 13^th found us all sleeping in, including me who was usually the first to get up.

The weatherman had called for clouds and rain.

Not a cloud could be seen in the sky. At some point, I think I have to come to terms with the fact that weather forecasters are just pulling balls out of a tumbling tumbler. “And today’s bingo is… rain and clouds.”

The-Youngest, after he got up at noon, spent most of the day on the couch sleeping. The-Oldest, his mind always active, spent the day reading about musicians and planning more music in his head. I’m not sure he left the comfy chair that looked onto the lake.

The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World and I spent most of the afternoon reminiscing with my cousin about my mom’s side of the family (how I am related to my cousins.)

We got to look at my aunt’s collection of collectibles, mostly match boxes from all the places she’d been. My cousin found old photo albums of her mom (and mine) from when they were youngsters, of their parents, and a whole ton of when their mom came out to be a dancer in NYC.

Now think of that for a moment. A girl from Calgary, Alberta decides to go to the BIG APPLE to be a dancer. What a brave and beautiful adventure, well beyond anything I would have tried at that age (or my current age).

But that was my Auntie Ruth. Tough as nails, yet kind and generous. Wildly adventurous, yet ultimately pragmatic (as demonstrated by her staying in NY and becoming an accountant when her dancing career stalled.)

When my brother and I came to NY, it was for her funeral. Link here. She loved NY. She loved going to concerts in Carnegie Hall. She loved the arts. She loved her daughters with a deep and fierce passion. She spoke of them with pride and joy.

Every time I saw her, she made me laugh. She had a quiet, but wicked sense of humor, understated but always clever, always observant.

I was happy we got to talk about her and my mom (from my cousin’s perspective). The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World and my cousin also bonded on a shared tragedy. Both had lost their brothers to suicide. It’s a terrible thing to share but both of their brothers had struggled with the same demons, both did their best to help them, and ultimately both brothers succumbed to the darkness or despair inside of them.

Their bonding was a lovely thing to see, but I didn’t want to intrude, so I left them be and caught up on writing, entering a bit more in my journal/pre-blog.

For supper, we went into the nearby town, Peekskill, and ate at a restaurant called the Birdsall House, a building that George Washington apparently visited. Whether or not he actually did didn’t change the fact that the building was that old. Worn brick covered the lower part of the building, and weathered wooden shakes covered the upper part. The whole town was filled with fantastic old homes and buildings, some of stone, some of wood, some of brick, or a combination of all of those.

The food was ok, but not outstanding and the server forgot to place The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World’s order. It had to get cooked from scratch and so by the time she got her food, we were done. None of us were happy with that, though The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World INSISTED we not wait for her (I’m not sure The-Youngest could have waited anyway. He had the look of someone so hungry, he’d eat the arm off the nearest person [me, in this case]).

Afterwards, we wandered the town as the sun began to set and we found a band playing on a side street lined with other restaurants. Now THAT got The-Oldest’s attention. It was a Cuban music band, full of energy and they clearly loved to play. We stood and listened for a while, while I pointed out that the movement and love of music that The-Oldest saw, was exactly what we saw when we watched him.

See, he doesn’t just play music, he is consumed by it. It fills him with joy and that radiates when he’s on stage – like that is where he is destined to be, where he is happiest in life.

Before we went back to the lake house, we got an amazing tour of the local area. So beautiful and lovely in the dusk-light

When we got back, we all went to bed early. Wait, did we, or was it just me? I know I passed out about 2 seconds after my head hit the pillow, but the others? Not sure, to be honest. I know what they had planned…

Tomorrow we’d have another quiet day and get a chance to go into town, maybe see a library for The-Prettiest-Girl-in-the-World, see my other cousin’s house, and meet her family (including the doggeroo kind.)

Looking back, now, we needed that day of peace. Even me, the hard-charging, see-everything guy. Even The-Youngest who had the energy of a seventeen-year-old and wanted so desperately to see all of NY on his own, spent most of the day sleeping.

A rest day.

Yes.

Very important.

Even if a bit later than planned.