I never thought the fall of 2018 would ever arrive! After a year of anticipation and planning, Diane and I were finally on our way. My sister-in-law and globetrotting sidekick was presumably a travel agent in her prior life as she is no slouch planning excursions. With savvy precision, she found the most amazing places for us to stay all the while making sure we received the greatest bang for our buck. Neither of us had ever traveled to Nantucket nor seen much of New England so we put both on our bucket lists and agreed now was the time to check them off. As a genealogical enthusiast and descendant of settlers arriving via the Mayflower fleet, it was also my goal to glean anything I could uncover about my family roots and with this in mind, our trip began in the little port town of Amesbury, Massachusetts.
Now as fate would have it, Diane, a seasoned traveler, had vacationed at so many amazing places and planned on a myriad of others but sorrowfully, my brother took his finally voyage after a long, hard fight with cancer leaving her to fly solo. Between the throes of grief and selling the family business, the furthest thing from her mind was taking a trip. But as the years eased the pain, she and I spoke more frequently about New England's autumn landscape, the colorful foliage, historic cities, and a ferry ride over to Nantucket. As a bonus, searching for our family's past to corroborate it for the future was right up my alley, so it was decided— Thelma and Louise would ride once again!
After extensive research on her part, Diane discovered most Nantucket resorts and tourist shops closed for the season the last week in September so it was decided we would forgo the foliage for this year and take in all that the island had to offer. We would begin our road trip in the northern corner of Massachusetts, work our way down the coast, ferry over to Nantucket and culminate our final destination in Chatham on the Cape.
With the car packed, wine bottles secured, travel binder in hand, a quick selfie was snapped and we were off! Now everyone in the know who has ever read any of my little blog posts is aware that nothing of importance ever happens in my life without one of my messages from heaven-- butterflies, cardinals, rainbows, pennies, blooming flowers -- and this day was not unlike any of those other days except I seemed to have hit the spiritual jackpot!
As you all may recall, the last week of September was the week both my parents passed away and mother’s favorite flower, the Iris, always re-bloomed right on time.
All week long I had been checking, but so far there hadn’t been anything more than dried out, withered leaves and began to think this year she had forgotten my heaven-sent hello. But as we eased out of the driveway the morning of our trip, I spied out of the corner of my eye one lone iris bloom and I knew my parents would be along for the ride. With a bit of melancholy, Diane and I reminisced about my parents and Jimbo but slowly our thoughts turned to the trip at hand.
Two hours flew by quickly and as we cruised through New York and into Connecticut, I decided to turn on the radio which is also connected to my I-pod. Hundreds of song are loaded on my playlist, yet as soon as I turned up the volume, the first thing we heard was my brother Jim's favorite singer, Neil Diamond crooning his hit song, Holly, Holy -- a song we played at Jim's memorial service. Now, I must admit this completely freaked us both out! I think if Mary Poppins had been in the car she would have said, close your mouths please—you are not cod fish!! Both crying and laughing and in utter disbelief as to what just transpired, we turned the radio down and reminisced some more. You would think this would have been enough divine intervention for one trip, and perhaps had I turned the I-pod off and not just the volume down that would have been the end of it, but another 100 miles later as I turned the volume back up once again we heard Neil Diamond once again, but this time he was singing, Hello, My Friend, Hello. And in that millisecond, I knew we had a stow away on board!
Reaching our destination after a carefree, scenic seven hour ride, we arrived to a lovely B & B, unpacked and enthusiastically scouted out the area. We allotted two full days for genealogical investigation between Amesbury and Boston and ten cemeteries in which to nose around. Our goal was to be up and out early with hope of completing everything on the agenda. At 9 am, with camera in one hand and coffee in another, our first call of duty was cleaning up the full cup of coffee that plopped onto the entire front seat. I began to wonder if perhaps the ancestors didn't want any early morning visitors, but withing minutes, we found our way to my 26th grandfather's home build in 1637. The Colby-Macy house. And yes, THE Macy of the departments stores.
During our excursion, we left no tomb stone unturned. From grave yard to Harvard Yard we braved it all. Not even an entire cup of spilled coffee on the front car seat would deter us from taking our lives in our hands to find the graves of my ancestors in a very sketchy part of town. Diane, one of the most cautious and fearful people I have ever known suddenly turned into Braveheart as we quickly darted into the cemetery and found the beautiful headstone of the first Lowell to arrive in America. Assuring ourselves that most criminals were sleeping off their nighttime crime sprees, we felt we could lower our instincts to duck and weave. I got right to business and etched a wax rubbing of the tombstone of both my distant grandparents’ names onto velum fabric while snapping pictures of the rest. Most stones were found, while other had disintegrated for eternity. After a few days of chasing history, it was time to ride the ferry!
Just an hour-long and thankfully smooth ride across the bay, the ferry boat dropped everyone off in Nantucket’s pretty, yet commercialized shopping district where streets are cobblestone, houses are cedar shingle and gift shops are plentiful. But Diane knowing my love of nature and photography shuttled us to stay on the far end of the island where the bay and ocean are just separated by a few hundred yards. It's a natural and rustic photo opportunity with a breathtakingly, beautiful town called Sconscet where rooftops are covered in climbing roses and privet hedge lines the streets. And then there are the baskets. Nantucket Lightship Baskets filled with hydrangea. Oh to have been able to buy one, but they are too rich for my budget with original ones pricing in over thousands of dollars. An artwork in and of itself, the workmanship is marvelous and only wish I had one!
On the last day of our trip, we packed our gifts, luggage, and fresh experiences into the car and took off into a deluge of rain. Quite satisfied that we did and saw most everything we planned with minimal trepidation of fly by bullets and the hullabaloo of a wet front seat. With windshield wipers swiping at breakneck speed, it forced us to take a divergent road.... should we go?? Oh what the heck, with Thelma and Louise, it's just another great adventure so stay tuned!
Several months have passed and I have thought frequently about our amazing trip and my only regret is that I didn't pick up an imitation Nantucket Basket at one of the gift stores. In fact, I almost put it on my Christmas List for Santa when one afternoon I went out to my mailbox and noticed a box. Someone had been listening to my heart and there in my hand came the best type of Nantucket basket-- a beautiful framed picture and sent with love.
To my little Thelma, thank you so much for your friendship, sisterhood and love!
... until we ride again!
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