Summertime during my youth often found me in the quaint little tourist town of Grand Bend, Ontario, Canada. My maternal grandfather built a cottage there in 1957. It's got everything needed for a long weekend away from the rat race. It's a gently-sloped A-frame with 3 bedrooms and one bathroom. It's got a cozy little kitchen, a small dining area and a large living room/sitting area.
While it wasn't my FAVORITE place to be in the summer (one station on the tv, had to beg my parents for money, couldn't drive, etc.), it wasn't without its charms. Within a stone's throw (literally) was our private beach along Lake Huron. The cottage was built in a small gated community called Southcott Pines in the Pinery Provincial Forest. The small lakeside community boasted small summer houses and cottages just like our and winding roads, streets, and lanes that were all connected. You NEVER got lost.
Some of my favorite things to do there were to go fishing off the pier at the end of River St. for lake perch, ride my bike into town to check out the locals and the little seasonal boutiques and shops, go to the arcade, and play a quick 18 at the Village Green miniature golf course smack in the middle of town.
Over the years, the Grand Bend experience evolved with my life. The cottage could sense when I was in my angsty early teen years and made my bed softer and harder to get out of and lowered the expectations of my parents to hope that I would. The beach knew to grow and stretch to accommodate my need for long walks. In college, I'd bring small groups of friends over there and the cottage knew to somehow always have a light on on our drunken stumbles home from town.
My last trip there was from August 10-12, 2001. A few weeks before the horrific events of September 11th. After that, passage into Canada became more and more troublesome. What used to be a few friendly questions at the customs booth turned into scrutinizing looks from border guards wearing tactical vests packing some serious heat. Kinda turned me off of our friendly neighbors to the north.
Years passed. I became a husband and a father. Life got too busy. It was a hell of a lot easier when everyone who went to the lake house worked, in some capacity or another, for the educational system. Summers off. Easy. Not this guy. To this day, I have a job that requires my presence 5 days a week, 52 weeks a year.
A few weeks ago, my parents mentioned they were heading to "the Bend" and asked if my wife and kids and I wanted to join. The guest list included my folks, my sister, her husband and their 2 girls and hopefully us. Well, I bootstrapped last Thursday and Friday off of work. To hell with it. It'd been 11 years and I wanted to see the beloved beach house. My wife grabbed her passport, I grabbed my enhanced drivers license and the kids' birth certificates and we split. 3 hours later (customs was a breeze) we were pulling onto Shoreline Drive and into the driveway of the beach house. What a relief... nothing had changed. We unpacked and I showed my wife the beach I grew up on. Within minutes, we were picking rocks and even found some beach glass. I knew this trip would be the best thing for my soul. I was already feeling my heart swell in a good way.
For the rest of the weekend, we all swam in the aqua blue water of Lake Huron and we shopped the downtown area and those who were old enough drank beer and liquor and played Scrabble. We ate Canadian junk food (dill pickle-flavored Doritos, I swear!) and reminisced about prior trips in the Bend.
The minute I set foot in the door, I knew I wanted to come back in late fall to shut the place down and start doing my part to put in a little sweat equity into the cottage because, after all, it took such good care of me growing up.
See ya 'round the Bend...
- Easy
P.S. To get more information on Grand Bend, feel free to follow these links!
http://www.grandbend.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grand_Bend
I really hope you get a chance to see it for yourselves someday.
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