Father's Day and D-Day have now gone by the board and for obvious reasons thoughts of my father have been running through my brain. The solitude of a bike ride helped stoke a lot of those thoughts. As it turned out, that bike ride took me through a couple of local communities. I was riding on what was once a railroad track that stretched through parts of Essex County in Massachusetts. My ride took me into Danvers and Topsfield. However, the interesting part to me and to this story was to find out that this trail continues into Georgetown.
Georgetown, just the mention of the word brings back bundles of memories from my youth. As a kid, my family had a summer camp in Georgetown. My old man, remember I mentioned him earlier, built this camp. It was one of his big achievements. It was a simple A frame structure sitting on cinder blocks at the corner of an intersection in a community of other summer camps. Oh, but it was way more than just that.
We have an old shoe box full of pictures with a handfull of black and whites showing Dad with a couple of buddies building this camp. This was right around the time I showed up on this planet, some of my very first memories involve the sound hammers and saws as this place took shape. I can remember when the place was at least ready to move some furniture in. The first refrigerator had no electricity, we had to bring a big block of ice with us and stuck it in the ice box on top. We had an old couch, a couple of easy chairs, some beds and finally a stove powered by propane. But, believe me, this place was like heaven.
The camp was in walking distance to a little beach on Rock Pond. Right next to the beach was a little, and I mean small, country store. It was just the spot for some penny candy and a bottle of Moxie. In the lot next to our camp was The Clubhouse. See, all the camp owners in the area had formed an association. Dues for the association went towards the upkeep of the beach and the roads with this clubhouse being a meeting place. But, The Clubhouse was more than that, they had bean suppers on Friday nights, they had dances for the adults on Saturday night and they had games for the kids.
Taking the trip to downtown Georgetown was full of memories, as well. At that time, downtown Georgetown was like being in Mayberry, RFD. On Sundays, we would take the trip to go to church, Ah, but after church, we got to go to the drugstore. This was an old Rexall drugstore with a fountain. Dad would let us sit at the counter and order up a rasberry lime rickey while he picked up the Sunday paper. Oh, and by the way, their comic book selection was to die for. I got one dime on Sunday, my choice had to be a good one. I would usually walk away with the latest copy of "Sgt Fury and his Howling Commandos".
Those summers in Georgetown were perfect. Many times we shared weekend there with the Smith family. My father and "Smitty" were best buds. Smitty helped put the camp together. When the Smith family came with us, me and my partner in mischief, Dottie Smith, would spend hours on the beach, explore the surrounding woods, read comic books, pretend to be cowboys fighting indians or just lie in bed listening to the sounds of the big bands being played at the dance nextdoor at the Clubhouse. Yeah, summer time in Georgetown, you couldn't get any better than that.
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