A boy and his toys

Posted 7/5/22

We spent the Fourth of July at our tiny house in New Hampshire, escaping the crowds and traffic in Rhode Island.   Driving by the little beach near our retreat, I noticed that the mooring …

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A boy and his toys


We spent the Fourth of July at our tiny house in New Hampshire, escaping the crowds and traffic in Rhode Island.   Driving by the little beach near our retreat, I noticed that the mooring for our boat, which has stayed behind in Warwick for the past ten years, was smooshed between two pontoon boats laying await the families who would soon be frolicking aboard. Hubby’s small motorboat used to delight our family.  We would pack a lunch, climb aboard the hot seats that had been sitting in the sun, throwing the life preservers on them so we would not burn our bottoms, and then slather sunscreen over the rest of our bodies.  Donning a hat and sunglasses, Hubby would maneuver the boat slowly through the channel while the kids would point out the abundant wildlife on the lake; a turtle sunbathing on a huge lily leaf, or a mother duck followed by her ducklings.  We would motor to the island where the children enjoyed using a large rope swing to oscillate back and forth, eventually letting go and falling into the lake water. Steven and Marie were into fishing, where Steven would bait their hooks with worms, and they could catch a multitude of fish and let them go. The children loved going tubing on the lake with Hubby tried his best   loosen their grip so they would go flying into the water. That boat served our family well. 

Snowmobiling was another of Hubby’s favorite past-times.  It was difficult for Francis to snowmobile due to his vision, and Hubby’s complete misunderstanding of what Francis was capable of seeing had him putting his oldest son on a snowmobile and letting him take off.  Unfortunately, Francis only went about twenty feet before he hit a tree, which was a large lesson learned. Then there was the time when Hubby took eight-year-old Steven snowmobiling for the first time.  Steven took off so fast that Hubby did a somersault off the back of the sled as it continued to careen in the field heading straight for the shed. Steven was smart enough to let go of the throttle, even as my own heart stuck in my throat.  Hubby and his friends would often stay at our tiny house and spend the days traipsing on the snowmobile trails almost all the way the way to Canada.

Hubby also loved to attend the car races at Loudon, New Hampshire, with his friends. He put to good use a pop-up camper we had purchased for our family to use for camping, (but which did not work out due to the fact Steven, who was six years old, would escape in the middle of the night to go snake hunting.) The camper was purchased especially because it contained an air conditioner, a toilet, and a shower, dear to Hubby’s heart because he hated using the communal toilets at the racetrack. He loved to be able to take a hot shower, and if it got too hot, he would come back to the camper and cool off in the air-conditioning. He was well like among his friends because his short order cooking skills provided quick, scrumptious meals for all.

Hubby’s toys now sit parked next to and behind our garage.  The boat is covered up and will probably not be brought to New Hampshire anymore because we no longer have a car that can tow it.  The snowmobiles sit in their trailer and are brought out once a winter season for Steven and a friend to race across the frozen pond. The camper… alas…. has succumbed to become the home for mice and squirrels. The tent part has been eaten away and the water tank for the shower has frozen and cracked. Ever the environmentalist, Hubby is not upset it has provided a home for rodents.

The boat, the snowmobiles, and the camper have been well used and appreciated, but they are now retired, much like Hubby, who finally has the time to spend an extended period of time at our tiny house in New Hampshire.


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