Vacationing in New Jersey?

We spent the last seven days on the East Coast visiting my parents. Southern New Jersey to be exact. I am here to tell you that it was hot. Not just regular hot, but more precisely, sticky, muggy hot. How soon one forgets living here in California, how humid the summers are on the East coast. One also forgets how green and lush summers can be in the mid-west and on the east coast. My parents have recently relocated back to New Jersey after having retired twenty years ago to Florida. I think my mom and dad are the only two people who are doing a reverse commute back to where they came from! You may well ask, how can you go from palm trees, lakeside property and a short jaunt to Disney World, back to the delight that is Trenton New Jersey? Go figure! Any way, this was our first trip back to the east coast to visit my folks in their new house.

We enjoyed a pretty typical family visit, landing on my parents in a complete whirlwind of high energy. The boys were excited to fly across the country and were absolutely wonderful travelers, enduring the long lines at check in and the 5-1/2 hour flight from Oakland to Philadelphia with ease. Our week at grandma's was filled with sight seeing trips to Philadelphia to view Indepedence hall and the liberty bell, a day at the Jersey shore and a car trip to visit old stomping grounds - "Bellvue Farm" where my mother grew up. My aunt also lives nearby and so we had the opportunity to reconnect with her. She is no fool and when she saw she had some able bodied helpers she set us to work in her garden stringing up the green beans, staking up the tomatos and picking zinnias for the dinner table. But, the best part of the entire trip was simply hanging out, catching-up and watching the kids interact my grandma and grandpa.

When I was a kid, I had my fair share of hanging out with my grandparents. Every summer, because my dad had summers off from teaching college, we would pack up the car and spend two days driving to New Jersey where we would land on my grandparents for an entire month. It took us two days to drive from Iowa to New Jersey. We would leave early in the morning, when the mists were just rising up over the corn fields. The car trip was always a close bonding experience, how could it be anything else, what with three kids, the dog and the luggage crammed into the back and trunk of the family Buick! We were loaded down with puzzles and books and for the most part my brother and sister and I would maintain a sense of decorum, but every so often, the teasing and the bickering reached a fevered pitch and my father bellowed out the obligatory..."If you kids don't settle down I'm going to pull over to the side of the road and one of you is going to walk the rest of the way..." We would drive on, with the windows rolled down, because the air conditioner didn't work very well, stopping at every Howard Johnson's between Cedar Rapids and Philadelphia, consuming cheeseburgers, chocolate milkshakes and clam rolls for every meal.

I loved my summers at Bellvue Farm. The old house had been in my mother's family for generations and was steeped in history and intrigue. Along one hallway hung framed letters written by ancestors describing their journey from England to the new country, along with framed portraits of distant aunts and cousins. As children we cavorted around the hay loft and trepidatiously walked past the dairy cows in the stalls that lined the cow barn. We played on rusty tractors and made doll houses in the corn crib. We ran through the back meadows and hid in the gardens and ate corn on the cob fresh from my grandmother's vegetable patch. But, the best fun was had exploring the farm house that was filled with antiques and odd collectibles, narrow back stair cases, and hidden attic rooms.

So, this past week, we made a family pilgrimage to visit Bellvue Farm, and in addition to that, the Friends meeting house where my parents were married in 1948. This is the first time in almost twenty years that I have been to, or even had a reason return to the Farm and New Jersey. The farm house was sold in 1986 after my grandmother died, after having lived to the ripe old age of 99 and a half. The house still stands but is occupied by a different family. The barns have all been torn down and the color of the old house has been changed. Interesting to return, but difficult to fully recapture the place that I carry around in my head and heart still, after all these years.

Anyway, we all had a great time. We came home rested and relaxed and re-energized. I really needed a change of scenery, even if the scenery was of New Jersey! And...to my extreme and infinite relief, the fish were still alive and kicking when we got home.