There came a time,soon after we moved that we took a vacation.I'm a bit uncertain as to exactly when that was,but I believe it must have been the first summer we arrived in Moncton because I was still a very small child.In fact,I don't recall a lot about what that vacation was really like,except for the story I'm about to relate.
As I recall,my younger sister was not with us.It was just my parents and myself.I think my sister must have spent the time at my grandparents place,when they still lived on the farm outside of Canterbury,New Brunswick.But my parents and I went to Nova Scotia,to Yarmouth and we got on the ferry that crosses the Bay Of Fundy to Bar Harbor,Maine.At least that's the way I recall the trip happening,though in really seems more likely that once we dropped my sister off,we would have gone over land into Maine,it being so much closer.
I have some memory of visiting some of my mothers family in Maine.They owned a restaurant,called Smith Farm,in a place called Gray,a bit north of Portland.From pictures I know the the restaurant looked very much like a big red barn.My mothers family lived in town,though,in Portland.The only real thing I remember of the place was that there was a huge stone fence on the street outside of their house,and that it looked very different from where we lived.
When we got to the boat that was to take us across the Bay,it was nearly evening,and the boat ride was to take all night.I really didn't get to see much of the boat,because I must have gone to sleep soon after we got on board.I recall though,that the boat was blue and very,very large.There were a lot of people there when we got on board,and I was amazed at the fact that you drove your car right inside of the boat,where it was quite dark.I have a vague memory of not liking that dark very much.
Once we left the car and started to wander around on the deck,I remember seeing a lot of people waving from down below as the boat started to move.Before I went to sleep,we went to a gift shop on board and my father saw a small sailors cap,something like the ships captain would wear.It was a crisp,clean looking white cap with a yellow braid going around it.My father bought the cap and placed it on my head,no doubt thinking that it was cute.I really wonder why they never took my picture in the cap though.For months I wore the cap,almost everywhere.But it's not so much the cap that I remember as it is what happened to it later.One day,in the fall as I recall I was sitting out at the curb in front of our house,and I was wearing my captains hat.My mother must have been nearby,in the front yard.It was a blustery day,very cool and windy.There was a lot of dirt blowing around in the street because none of the other streets around were paved.And,as I sat there,a big gust of wind grabbed my sailors hat,ripped it off my head and began to blow it down the street,towards Mountain Road.But my mother came along just in time to rescue it.To do so she had to go running down the street after it.She placed it back on my head,but no sooner had she done so than it was gone again.This time she didn't have to chase it quite so far.For a second time she placed it back on my head,where it stayed for a few moments.Then a really strong wind roared down the street,not so much of a gust as a steady,stormy blast.Once again my hat was gone.It started down the street,sort of rolling on it's edges right beside the curb,but going much faster than I could have run had I been allowed to chase it into the street.It rolled all the way to Willett,the first side street,but it didn't stop.It flipped over onto it's top and seemed to slide down the middle of the road,going faster and faster and getting farther away.By he time my mother noticed this time,it had blown almost all the way to Mountain Road,a really busy street at the bottom of our street.I could still see it rolling and flipping in the wind,but there was no chance of catching it,no matter how fast you could run.It began to look really small,but I could still see it.I suppose that it finally reached Mountain Road and was flattened as it blew out into traffic.It was likely no easier for a windblown cap to make it across Mountain Road than it was for a person to cross on foot.
As I recall,my younger sister was not with us.It was just my parents and myself.I think my sister must have spent the time at my grandparents place,when they still lived on the farm outside of Canterbury,New Brunswick.But my parents and I went to Nova Scotia,to Yarmouth and we got on the ferry that crosses the Bay Of Fundy to Bar Harbor,Maine.At least that's the way I recall the trip happening,though in really seems more likely that once we dropped my sister off,we would have gone over land into Maine,it being so much closer.
I have some memory of visiting some of my mothers family in Maine.They owned a restaurant,called Smith Farm,in a place called Gray,a bit north of Portland.From pictures I know the the restaurant looked very much like a big red barn.My mothers family lived in town,though,in Portland.The only real thing I remember of the place was that there was a huge stone fence on the street outside of their house,and that it looked very different from where we lived.
When we got to the boat that was to take us across the Bay,it was nearly evening,and the boat ride was to take all night.I really didn't get to see much of the boat,because I must have gone to sleep soon after we got on board.I recall though,that the boat was blue and very,very large.There were a lot of people there when we got on board,and I was amazed at the fact that you drove your car right inside of the boat,where it was quite dark.I have a vague memory of not liking that dark very much.
Once we left the car and started to wander around on the deck,I remember seeing a lot of people waving from down below as the boat started to move.Before I went to sleep,we went to a gift shop on board and my father saw a small sailors cap,something like the ships captain would wear.It was a crisp,clean looking white cap with a yellow braid going around it.My father bought the cap and placed it on my head,no doubt thinking that it was cute.I really wonder why they never took my picture in the cap though.For months I wore the cap,almost everywhere.But it's not so much the cap that I remember as it is what happened to it later.One day,in the fall as I recall I was sitting out at the curb in front of our house,and I was wearing my captains hat.My mother must have been nearby,in the front yard.It was a blustery day,very cool and windy.There was a lot of dirt blowing around in the street because none of the other streets around were paved.And,as I sat there,a big gust of wind grabbed my sailors hat,ripped it off my head and began to blow it down the street,towards Mountain Road.But my mother came along just in time to rescue it.To do so she had to go running down the street after it.She placed it back on my head,but no sooner had she done so than it was gone again.This time she didn't have to chase it quite so far.For a second time she placed it back on my head,where it stayed for a few moments.Then a really strong wind roared down the street,not so much of a gust as a steady,stormy blast.Once again my hat was gone.It started down the street,sort of rolling on it's edges right beside the curb,but going much faster than I could have run had I been allowed to chase it into the street.It rolled all the way to Willett,the first side street,but it didn't stop.It flipped over onto it's top and seemed to slide down the middle of the road,going faster and faster and getting farther away.By he time my mother noticed this time,it had blown almost all the way to Mountain Road,a really busy street at the bottom of our street.I could still see it rolling and flipping in the wind,but there was no chance of catching it,no matter how fast you could run.It began to look really small,but I could still see it.I suppose that it finally reached Mountain Road and was flattened as it blew out into traffic.It was likely no easier for a windblown cap to make it across Mountain Road than it was for a person to cross on foot.
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