Satirical Thoughts on the States: New England

   My memories in New England are some of the sweetest of our whole trip because I met my best friend in person for the first time. Because I was enjoying my time with her, her siblings and her parents so much, I didn't spend as much time noticing the little quirks about New England as I had other states. 

    However...

The largest grievance (and most familiar one) was the roads…

     Again.

     This time, it wasn’t just how bad they were—it was the fact that they were accompanied by tolls. Toll roads. Don't get me started. I sort of understood paying to drive on the Massachusetts Turnpike where it was well kept-up, but I didn’t understand paying for the other crumbling highways. I may sound like I’m harping on roads a lot, but you can’t understand how important they are to a large RV until you’ve driven or ridden in one. Every bump rattles the oven door, the microwave, the bathroom door, the cupboards, the dishes inside, the bikes you have squeezed in the hallway…even you as you’re trying to make a ham sandwich for your dad…Yes, and then to imagine paying for all those roads…?

     But we left our New Jersey campground and arrived safely in Connecticut by the grace of God. We surprised my best friend just days before her birthday and received a more than sufficient reaction. (She didn’t know we would be visiting that day—or that week, or any week this year.) We stayed with her family for three wonderful days. Their hospitality was incredible, and after the rush and busyness of New York City and Washington D. C., our stay with them was a safe haven. I saw some beautiful places in Connecticut on some day trips with them. We enjoyed both historic Weathersfield, CT and a local walking trail. It was early summer, the sun was setting later, the grass was warm, and it was the perfect setting for evening basketball, cook-outs, tag and all sorts of other outdoor activities. 

     Unfortunately, all perfect—or nearly perfect—days must come to an end. Hartford, Connecticut then stood between us and Massachusetts. And it did a good job standing in the way, too. I’d always heard from my parents that New England was crowded. I finally know what they were talking about, and now I can tell the next generation. 

     Once we got through Hartford, we were able to move pretty easily to the Boston area where we had another campground lined up. There we quickly discovered the irony in the campground’s name. Spacious Skies RV Park wasn’t so spacious. It was packed with rigs and tenters, and it was so heavily wooded, we couldn’t see the sky at all. In fact, it was the most heavily wooded campground of our whole trip. We spent the entirety of our stay there wondering who in the world had named it. 

     Spacious Skies did have a pool, though, so wherever the founders failed in naming it, they didn’t in planning its attractions. While we were playing a game in said pool with a football, I heard the New England Patriots mentioned more than once. I’m not sure if the men talking about Drake Maye (New England’s Quarterback) were comparing themselves to him or not, but I certainly didn't see any similarities. (And I would know. I had Drake Maye for my QB in Fantasy Football last year. I won the fantasy football superbowl in my league because of him.)

(Enough about football.)

     Even though we were in the Boston area, we opted out of going into the city and went to Concord instead. There, I saw Lousia May Alcott's house!

Yes, I know...strange angle.

I was fascinated to learn that Bronson Alcott, her father, put a small building that was at the top of their property on logs and rolled it down to the original house structure and attached it to make the house larger. I guess it’s no surprise that someone who could pull off a stunt like that would father a daughter who wrote one of the most famous books of all time. By the way, I’m sorry for those who would have liked photos of the inside of Orchard House. It was forbidden. I can tell you my my favourite parts though, free of charge. They were May’s (Amy’s) drawings on the wall, the old costumes, old books and antique furniture. It was all so well-preserved it felt just like we were stepping back in time. 

    Another day trip we went on while in Massachusetts was to Cape Ann, a far northern piece of the state. The little town we visited, Rockport, was a place of legend for me. Ever since I’ve been little, my parents have talked about the little seaside, art-loving town they used to visit. To finally go there…? Oh, it was amazing. 

 There were multiple shops that sold both photography and paintings, and though I didn’t buy anything, I enjoyed every minute of browsing the stores. There was a book shop, a little performance hall with a beautiful grand piano overlooking the ocean, and several sweets shops.

Looking in through a window at the performance hall...

While in Cape Ann, we also stopped for pizza at a little waterside park and watched the sunset over the Atlantic Ocean. From time to time, a bell would ring on a little bridge, and it would rise to allow boats through. Near the little park, people walked their dogs, flags fluttered in the breeze, and a large boat with three sails tempted us as it tacked by. There was also a sobering memorial enscribed with the names of everyone starting in 1716 who had gone down in the sea.

     A funny occurrence while we were waiting for our pizza involved both an ambulance, two police cars and several officers. When they pulled up right across the street, we thought “Uh, oh…something must really be going on.” Two boys stood watching as the policemen and medics clambered out of their vehicles. Nearby, the boys’ abandoned scooter and bike leaned against a building. Apparently interested in what was going on, the two boys pointed and whispered. 

     Then the policemen approached them, and the boys were taken into the ambulance. A few minutes later, they re-emerged with band-aids on their knees. The only thing we could conclude was that they had gotten in some sort of scooter-bike accident and the locals called 911. For something that appeared dreadfully serious, it turned out to be a good distraction while we waited to be called for our pizza. 

     I wish we could have been in New England during the autumn, since I hear that’s a beautiful season there. But the late spring was beautiful too, and I especially enjoyed seeing the rocky coast of the North Atlantic.

I would love to go back to New England and spend some more time there. It was a beautiful region of the United States and holds so much history. (And of course, next time we go, we’ll spend time with my best friend again.)

     Thank you for reading my post.

     In Christ,

     Autumn