My sister has a friend she's known for a good 25 years, I'm thinking. She owns a small cottage in Marblehead, Ohio and my sister owns one at the top of the little road.
This lady likes to clean, and now since her husband has been gone for probably 10 years or so, that's about all she does when she visits her cabin. It is important to her that things be "just so."
Her kin come from West Virginia and she has twinges of the drawl left, those subtle reminders of her heritage. One of those twinges has made its way into our vocabulary too.
When you spill paint on a new blouse and it won't come out, you might say it is "ruined." She might say the same thing, but it comes out different. For Joanne, it is "roined." Rhymes with pork "loin."
The thing is, my sister used to work really hard at her cottage too, not just cutting the grass on the riding mower but doing the trim work, cleaning out flower beds, trimming bushes, as well as inside cleaning too. Once April would arrive, it was a given that my sister and her husband would be at Marblehead every single weekend either working outside or working inside, depending on the weather. She used to buy herself a beach pass to a section along the lake known as Bay Point. It was idyllic with stretches of soft sandy beaches and trees away from the shoreline at the very back, so that she could escape the sun if it was really hot.
The trip to the beach was her reward for hard work, and also a chance to catch up on the goings-on with all the folks who had mobile homes parked at the back end of Bay Point. Little lanes ran up and down and side to side, and everyone knew everyone. Every 4th of July, there would be a party on the beach. And they were exceptionally nice people; I met many of them.
Before the out-of-towners purchased Bay Point and sold off the lots for $300,000 each, there was a stretch of two-bedroom cabins along the isthmus that makes up Bay Point. They were available for rent and many people came each year on a specific weekend without fail, so you had to rent early! We got a chance to stay there maybe three or four different summers for a week. Each visit meant a trip to Bergman's where they sell the most wonderful produce including what they grow themselves. It meant a trip to "downtown" Marblehead and especially a visit to Martha and Molly's, our favorite spot. The gentleman who owns the place is a good buyer and you never know what you are going to find there. I'm wearing one of the zip up sweatshirts purchased there as I write this entry to the blog. If he has more of them, I'll get some this coming summer for sure.
We would go to the beach, get some fabulous fish at Jolly Roger in Port Clinton, and maybe venture to some other shops around Port Clinton and nearby. Several times we went to the Johnson's Island cemetery where the southerners who never made it back home from the prison on the island are buried.
Things these days are changing, a little more so each year. My brother-in-law died seven years ago. My sister really can't work like she used to, so going to Marblehead has almost no meaning for her other than to feel lonely. When Bay Point was taken over, a lot of the mobile homes were sold and moved, and many of her friends don't stay there anymore and many of them have already died, sad to say. When we visit, we still have a good time but life is different now. It's quieter, slower.
The downtown of Marblehead hasn't changed all that much; it's still quaint and small and very special. We're the ones who have changed, especially my sister.
But oh, the memories of times past. I was looking at some pictures a few days ago, and moments came washing over me. Just a moment caught in time. A feeling to last a lifetime.
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