No T.V., No Radio, No Cell Phones – Oh, My! July 12, 2008

Melissa Trezza

ENG40524

Debby Mitchell

Descriptive Essay

 

No T.V., No Radio, No Cell Phones – Oh, My!

 

                No television, no radio, no microwaves, no telephones (and good luck getting a cell phone signal), rustic furnishings, and no mall for miles. Does this sound like the makings of a memorable family vacation? Well, for my family and me it was. The place was Loch Lyme Lodge, in Lyme, New Hampshire and it holds some of my fondest childhood memories.

                While driving through “downtown” Lyme, on your way to the lodge, you realize that this is one of those places that you always hear about. You know, one of those “if-you-blink-you’ll-miss-it” kinds of places. There are no chain stores or restaurants, and  no big, bright, obnoxious signs to be found. One of the most amusing sights is the old white, one-story, house that has been turned into a conglomeration of businesses, including (but probably not limited to) a bank, café, hardware store, grocery store, and post office. This place is smaller than your average Walgreens and they have somehow squished all of these services into one tiny location. (The environmentalist/minimalist ilk has probably bestowed upon it a Best Use of Space award.) Another interesting sight is the old, dilapidated cemetery. I don’t mean “Arizona old”, I mean “back East” old – as in, the dates chiseled into these gravestones indicate these-people-were-alive-while-Thomas-Jefferson-was-writing-the-Declaration-of-Independence – old. It’s not a huge cemetery, perhaps an acre of land. There are obviously old tombstones shooting this way and that out of the ground like a group of sumo wrestlers sat on them, forcing the stones to fold under their mass. There’s plenty of grass, but not much in the way of flowers (probably because most of the deceased’s have been long gone). As is typical of such old graveyards, there are many children laid to rest here, as well, which always saddens and humbles me. The lodge is just a few miles up the rural road from this 16^th century cemetery.

                You know you’re there before you’re actually there. It’s the smell. It smells clean – like air should smell (you know, without all the exhaust to get in the way). The scent is fresh lake water, newly cut grass, and blooming flowers. Just around the bend, you see it – the over two hundred year old, two-story, white house with dark green shutters. There is a big red barn just to the right of it, and it appears to be at least as old as the house itself – perhaps even older. You pull into the tiny parking lot right in front of the barn, which serves as the check-in area. The floor of the barn is mostly a mixture of dirt and hay. The owners’ white, panther-like, double-pawed cat roams about, investigating the new visitors preparing for their vacation back in time.

The inside of the home presents more eclectic fodder. Entering through the front door, you’re greeted by an aging set of stairs. Once at the top of the stairs, one room sits to the left, the communal bathroom is straight ahead, one bedroom is to the right of the bathroom, another room is directly across from that one, and yet another is at the end of the hallway to the right. The furniture in all four rooms looks like it was placed in the house when it was built – in 1784 – mismatched and old-fashioned – curvaceous, decorative, created with hand tools and human hands – not machines or electric tools. All the bedrooms have two twin beds, a dresser or two, a mirror – no telephones, televisions or mini bars here. (Oh yeah, there are also no keys and no locks to put a key into even if you had one.) In the bathroom are an old-fashioned white, claw-footed bathtub and an open sink to match. The bathroom is clean, but nothing extravagant – no better than your own bathroom at home and everything in it appears to predate the Civil War. Back downstairs, to the right of the stairs (if you were coming downstairs), is a fairly large patio area and to your left, further back, is what was probably the original homeowner’s dining room, which has been extended to include what was once possibly a family room. The tables are set beautifully with white linen tablecloths, flowers in small vases, white linen napkins, and elegant silverware. The staff at the lodge, including those serving meals, is from all over the world – Denmark, Australia, England, Poland – you name it. They typically come for the summers to work in the States. They are always the most courteous, hard-working young people you’ll ever meet. (It’s just cool talking to people with accents, isn’t it?) They serve breakfast, lunch, and dinner in the main house every day and it’s delicious – everything is made from scratch (no Hamburger Helper or boxed potatoes here). It truly feels like you’ve stepped back a couple hundred years staying in this vintage house.

                Outside of the main house, to the right, a little ways up a narrow dirt road are two red clay tennis courts with worn nets. Just beyond this is a volleyball net, with the same net issue. To the right of the small parking lot (in front of the barn) is a children’s playground with brightly colored plastic play equipment, including a blue slide and a swing set. A badminton net stands just in front of the playground. While none of these things are top-of-the-line or in prime condition, they are adequate and this is not the Hilton. There is a huge, plentiful garden, just to the right of the red barn, just  before you get to the tennis courts, filled with corn stalks, broccoli, peppers, cucumbers, lettuce, and almost any other vegetable of which you can think. Between the garden and the tennis courts is a large, enclosed porch, which serves as a sort of recreation room. It’s dark brown with dark green shutters and there is a set of stairs with three steps leading to the door. The screen door matches the shutters and it’s thin and flimsy. You wonder how it holds on and how there aren’t a colony of mosquitoes and ants occupying the room inside with the amount of holes and tears present in the screen. Inside, are a ping-pong table, board games, books, ‘70’s-style armchairs, a couch, and tables, and an old television with no cable (of course)? The T.V. is one of those big ones that are encased in wood, with four tiny wooden legs holding it up, no remote, and a dial tuner. Paris Hilton wouldn’t last an eighth of a second in this place.

                Directly across the street from the lodge is a large lake that you can’t even fully see from the shore, surrounded by white Adirondack chairs and picnic tables. On the shore are some canoes and rowboats – all, surprisingly, in decent, buoyant condition (thankfully, there are obscene orange life preservers nearby, just in case). A few yards beyond the shore is a small, worn, wooden dock for jumping. The water is your typical lake water -clean, just not fake-looking-Otter-Pop-blue, and you certainly cannot see the bottom of the lake. If you drop something into the murky abyss, all hope is lost (my grandfather dropped his expensive gold glasses in one year and they were never seen again). About a hundred yards from the lakeshore is one of the several dark brown “cabins” (they’re really just tiny houses), which can be spotted deep in the woods that surround the lake as well as up behind the main house. The furniture in these things is even more rustic than what’s in the bedrooms of the lodge – totally mismatched and straight out of the fifties (or is it the seventies – I get so confused with the hideous décor decades) – plaid couches, pea green chairs – all covered in fabric that could be mistaken for sandpaper. Some of them have kitchens, some don’t. Some have electricity, others don’t. Either way, none of these cabins or the lake will be seen on MTV Cribs anytime soon.

                To say that the Loch Lyme Lodge is rustic, is somewhat of an understatement and many Americans would find the conditions intolerable. Now that I’m an adult and haven’t been there for about ten years, I almost can’t believe I stayed there myself – and had some of the best times of my life. It wasn’t about the “conditions” or the Spartanesque feel of the place. It wasn’t about the uncomfortable furniture, lack of electrical appliances, or even the ant infestation in the cabins. It was about spending time with family and enjoying each other’s company without the constant distractions of the real world. We were finally able to be together and see our true selves – without all the modern buffers to get in the way. If this sounds hokey to you, then you’re missing out.