Time marches fast, even on vacation. It’s hard to believe our plans are steadily becoming history, as the days become weeks. After 28 days we have reached the halfway mark of our trip, and signs of homesickness (or maybe travel weariness) have arrived. The fighting in the car is increasing, as are statements longing for home.
But one of the beauties of being in a new environment without one’s favorite toys, is the added motivation for creativity. At the house on Merrymeeting Lake last week, for example, Emmett and Aaron discovered a small rubber fish that must have been used as bait by a recent fisherman. This squishy little thing provided hours of entertainment, as they took turns throwing the fish into the lake, then jumping off the end of the dock to race each other to get it.
Now our adventure marches on to the second New Hampshire lake houses, in tiny Newbury, est. 1778, far from the more tourist-oriented locales. The town is charming, the house itself is more remote, rustic…and without cable TV, cell phone or internet service. It’s going to be wonderful.
Last night, instead of the kids watching television while Christopher and I worked on our computers, we played an Aaron-invented game, challenging each other to name the capitol of each state. Aaron drew freehand a map of the United States, and checked of the capitols as we named them. (Are you smarter than an almost-5th grader? I’m not.)
This morning, instead of Emmett being glued to The Disney Channel, he and Christopher rowed “our” little boat out to an island in the middle of the lake, on which someone has strung a rope swing on a high tree. Christopher expertly guided Emmett through his fears, and Emmett is now a rope-swing-into-a-lake kind of kid. Aaron and I stayed back in the house, gobbling down more chapters of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, which he’d begun our last day in Manhattan, on the F Train to Brooklyn.
By late morning, we set out for Manchester with two big plans.
The second (unstated-so-as-to-avoid-protest): to meet Presidential candidate Jon Huntsman at a restaurant down the street from the stadium. (A quick peek at the New Hampshire Republican Party’s website had let us know he would be at Murphy’s Taproom on Elm Street an hour before game time, talking with New Hampshire folks. Just like they show on TV!)
We merely told the kids we knew a great place for lunch. We mentioned that Presidential candidates often ate lunch there. That piqued their interest. “Like Barack Obama?” Aaron wondered. “Could be,” we may have responded.
We walked toward the restaurant and, still not quite believing things work this way, there he was sitting at a table with 10 people, in a casual green shirt, talking about the economy. The nice Young Republicans set out four more chairs for us. We listened until the kids were bored and threatening to become disruptive, and I took them outside.
Governor Huntsman was affable, and spoke with us after the round table ended. He asked Emmett about his missing front tooth; asked Aaron about his interests (response: basketball). We shook hands and told him we were fellow Penn grads, and that we were from California. He told us he grew up in North Hollywood. Politics aside, I liked the man, so I mentioned that I had a good track record: the last time I’d taken my picture with a Governor was 1990, with then-Governor of Arkansas Bill Clinton. He responded in a hushed voice: “I’m actually friends with him.”
Will we have shaken the hand of the next President? If our unscientific polling has anything to say, probably not: our closest Republican family told us he’s not their number one (but to send their love anyway).