As you are aware if you read my Sunday morning post, we drove Aidan to camp yesterday. It was closer to a 4 1/2 hour drive than the 3 1/2 hour drive I figured on. But we got there. Only to discover that the immunization records we had were incomplete; that is, they showed only one MMR innoculation, when two were required. We were certain that he’d received both, and he’d been admitted the previous year so we hadn’t anticipated any trouble. It being Sunday, the upshot was that we were forced to spend the night in a motel in South Deerfield, MA, mostly because it had a pool, which prevented Aidan from being too deeply disappointed. When we got there, the power was out due to tornadoes in the vicinity.
This morning, we had to wait until 9 in order to contact the folks in Iowa where the kids received their shots, and ask them to try to dig up the records. The woman was somewhat truculent. Meanwhile, we contacted the NIH to see whether they had them on file, too. I was concerned that if we waited around for those folks to get back to us and discovered that they didn’t have what we needed, we’d end up wasting another day. So, I called up my insurance company and had another unpleasant conversation with a functionary who told me it would be necessary to drive all the way back to Vergennes to get the shot, and when I rejoined that that was absurd, she hung up on me. So, I packed them up and started for the Vermont border, towards Brattleboro, with hopes that I’d be able to find a physician to administer the vaccine. I had Mary call the Brattleboro Retreat, where Aidan had been hospitalized when he had his psychotic break, and they said, well, call Vermont State Health Services. So, we did, and were able to make an appointment in Brattleboro, which went smoothly. Then we were finally able to turn around and get him to camp at about 12:30.
On the plus side, we saw a moose and a bear. This particular part of Massachusetts’ Berkshires is very beautiful, but I noticed a lot of abandoned motels and restaurants and former moccasin vending enterprises.
I want to thank all of you who responded to my bleg. I will confess to stopping on the way back home in Windsor, VT, at the Harpoon Brewery, to pick up a growler, which I am presently enjoying. I’m glad to be back home.
I heartily recommend Holiday’s Pizza if you’re ever in South Deerfield, MA.
Moose are godawful large, huh? I haven’t seen one since I was little. I think it was at Yosemite or maybe Grand Tetons. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bear just wandering around. Last time at Yosemite I looked and looked, but no bears. They’re not supposed to be all that elusive there. Just bad luck I guess.
Yes, it was a large bull, though still youngish, and plashing through a swamp in the rain.
I’ve had several encounters with bears. This one was smallish and had a tracking collar on it.
oh. I read Gentle Ben when I was little and cried and cried. So after that I never read Old Yeller or the one about the Red Fern or any of those soul-scarring animal books… I waited until I was like twenty to read Watership Down. Also, My Side of The Mountain I read probably more times than is generally considered healthy.
My dad had an encounter with a bear in Jasper National Park, in Alberta. He slung the garbage into the dumpster and a bear sat up. Dad left before the bear could thank him for adding to the buffet. The bear was early – it was usualy about dusk they would go to the dumpsters.
(All came out okay, including the bear who may have been too busy laughing.)
“Dad left before the bear could thank him for adding to the buffet.”
Smarter than your average bear!
Deerfield? My ancestors burned it to the ground. Location, location, location.
Bass Weejuns!
Lovely.
I’m taking my kid to Pok-o-Mcready in Willsboro next Monday. Guess I’d better check those shot records.
My kid loves the Orange Cream soda at the Harpoon. I like hitting the Beer King in Lebanon. Plattsburgh’s best beer store is a bait shop.
Boy, you’re just gonna love socialized medicine!
Yeesh.
Killed me a baar, when I was only three.
When did Bullwinkle and Yogi start hanging out together, and what did they do with Rocky and Boo Boo?
My dad sidearmed my two youngest sibs, one after another ten feet up into a pine tree, then commanded in a clear, calm voice, “climb higher”. He looked over at my brother and I (he was eight, me eleven)and said “Walk down to the bend in the trail, then run to the campground, get help, try to find the ranger, and don’t let mom come up here.”
Then he turned around to face the sow with her two cubs, fifty yards away on the other side of the huckleberry meadow.
She turned out to have better things to do with her family. By the time the thundering herd arrived my dad was trying to talk my baby brother down from the fork in the tree.
I miss my dad.
Oh, and I got yer beer. And it’s not nearly enough for what value you bring to my world, sir, but I’ll try to always be good for at least an assist.
Dan–I went to Deerfield Academy and Amherst College, so I used to know that area well. It sounds like you enjoy craft beer; if you get chance when you pick Aidan up, try to find some Berkshire Brewing Company beers (should be available in any decent-sized liquor stores in the area), or pick up a couple growlers from Amherst Brewing Company in downtown Amherst (only about 20 minutes south of Deerfield).
Regarding the abandoned motels, restaurants, and shops: I understand that western Massachusetts’ heyday was in the 50s and 60s, when it was a very popular destination for foliage viewers. MA Route 2 stretches from Boston to Williamstown, and the portion from Greenfield (or thereabouts) to the NY border is known as the Mohawk Trail; fifty or so years ago, it was as heavily traveled by leaf peepers as Vermont is today. Somewhere along the line it fell out of favor, and only the skeletons of the mom & pop businesses remain. It’s now the most poverty-stricken part of Massachusetts, unfortunately.
dan: I thank God every day all I have to deal with is an entitled 14 year old. Can’t imagine what’s on your plate.
Dan, just wanted to remind you to put up that Amazon tip jar thingie.
Dan, you’re a good daddy.
“run, Sally run!”
A Smokey moutain pic-i-nic basket full of datenut bread and butter sammiches, packed by my grandmommy for a day trip with my mother and siblings, was fortunately for me a more tempting object of prey to a bear than a skinny four year old.
Obviously I made it to the Bel-air in time. But not without noticing whicn of her brood Mom AKA “Sophie” chose to scoop up and grab by the hand before me.
That bear ate the picnic and the picnic basket also. Left behind was a glass jar of peanut butter with the label quite missing.
So glad you are home and all is well. That’s one well-earned growly thing.
If all goes well, I expect to be in North Adams the last week in August.
It’s only two or three days, and I’m so broke I won’t have transportation or much freedom of movement, but if you’re around I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to buy you a beer.
Regards,
Ric
Dan, you can make a great story out of anything. I trust that your’e making this a wondrous experince for Aidan as well.
I bet he’s having his having a blast of his own on his own terms.
But you should travel a bit southwest for serious pizaa.
Donatos may be a chain, but dude this is pizza!
And I hope all is well.
Ric,
I doubt I’ll be down that way at that time. We’re picking him up on August 2, so I doubt I’ll be able to take you up on your offer. Brendan gets back from his program on the 11th, so it’s possible I might be headed into Manchester, NH, at that time.
Thanks for the advice, Defenseman. I do love craft beers, and I’ll have to check those out. Beer King in Lebanon? Sounds familiar, and you’re just across the lake from me, WT. I’ll have to go look. When I (slyly, I’d thought) asked the woman at the counter at Harpoon whether Dartmouth students ever drove over for kegs, she looked at me as though I were the person for whom the expression “duh” was coined. I had one of those creamsicle sodas, and it was awesome. Strangely, I can’t find those or any of the varieties beyond the IPA and the unfiltered Hefe hereabouts. I bought the Munich Dark, which is very satisfying.
I’m so glad none of you was eaten.
lp, I’m sure he’s having a great time and talking his counselors to death about the awesomeness of The Dark Knight, which in his case wasn’t marred by someone backing up into his car, unlike Karl.
Cynn, it’s not that big a burden; we love him.
RTO, thanks. Nicest compliment I could get.
SB&P: thanks for the reminder.
Dan,
Thanks for reminding me of the Berkshires. What a beautiful area that I haven’t thought about for many years.
When I used to play regularly in Wilmington (it was in the seventies), I would drive up either Rte. 7 in CT, or Rte 22 in NY. I was rarely in a hurry, and would stop at any off the beaten path I found. I think the one that stands out most in my mind is Lookout Mountain, in southern Mass. on Rte. 7.
Thanks for the memories. It’s been so long, and I so very miss those ramblin’ days.
As for the bear? I have seen a few black bears in my day, and I can’t get over how cute they look! Not cute if they decide you are not your friend, though.
I hope your summer is going better than mine has been, and I hope your son is as much of a total delight to you as mine is to me. What a gift a child can be.
Enjoy your summer, and someday, if I am successful in climbing out of the hole I’m in, I would really enjoy a trip to Vermont, if only for a couple of beers.
And, one other thing that you brought back to mind. Did you ever go to Stratton (or was it Killington?) during the late seventies when they had the bobsled run in the summer season? It was actually quite dangerous, but at that time, the word didn’t exist. My friends and I were so nuts that we would regularly get thrown off the mountain for bunching up about eight “sleds” and roaring down the slide “wide open”, picking up whoever was going slower than we were.
Scared the crap out of many people. But we always knew when we were busted, ’cause we could see the state police cars from about a quarter of the way up the mountain. I still can’t believe that they never outright banned us from the place.
But I babble. That’s what nostalgia does to a person, I guess.
Thanks again for the wonderful memories.
Nice writing, btw. In the distant past, I’ve had a great romance in the dorms of Williams College and all about No. Adams and Pittsfield. The memories match that of my recent trip to Bryce Canyon about a week ago although a cabin was needed this time 20+ years later instead of a tent on the edge of that hobgoblin canyon of the West.
for the record, seems tourism is off in the West too (at least at Bryce Canyon). Nearly a majority are Europeans and the Americans aren’t spending much for rooms there either. Listening to some of the commenters here blow about being hard up and in the hole is making me wonder who’s side they’re on? Don’t know why conservatives aren’t enjoying their making of the economy. Dudes, this misery is what you wanted starting with that Reagan retard with his funny men: Grover Norquist, Jack Abramoff, Oliver North et al. I seem to be enjoying life more than the lot of the conservatives out there now.
As for mooses, my current mate has been hankering for a moose siting for a long time. Still couldn’t manufacture it for her even with a trip up to moose heaven in Ogden canyon, Utah. But a wild mule deer just stood with us at 25 yards on the Bristle Cone Trail in Bryce. Probably I’ll take her up the Long Trail in Vermont soon for another moose chase. At least the moose scat is plentiful there.
I think your writing about real life is bit more lovely than the ‘kill a commie for mommie’ stuff. Of course, politics is also my curse of using the general subject to cure the pain of personal particulars. Strip the political and religious differences and we’ve all just thin skin.
cheers! (now back to being ‘banned’)