What I did this Summer

What I did this Summer

This summer we took a trip to Cape Cod. Stupid name. No one wore a cape and I didn't see a cod whatever that is. My dad yelled bad names at all the other cars on the road who were not going fast enough. We stayed at an old and smelly motel and played miniature golf. My brother, Robert, cheated and put the ball in the hole with his hand. People who were watching laughed and thought he was cute. I was angry because he had a better score than me. That is the trip we took this summer. President Kennedy was nearby in a place called High Anus. Stupid name.

Barry Levine, 8 years old

July 1961

  Barry, this was poorly written.  C -

From 1961 until 20 years later I had not visited Cape Cod until our honeymoon. We had since been there four more times in the last five years. Some things never change we stayed in a smelly motor inn where our clothes were constantly damp including the clothes that were in the suitcase.  The only time we didn't stay in a smelly hotel was when we stayed in the Radisson (as of this summer it is now a Doubletree) with their dial-a-number beds which was significantly more uncomfortable than an air mattress.

I happen to like Cape Cod. Until recently it was a place where we were contemplating retiring to. We asked some local retirees how they handle the winters there. They said the winters are not bad. They spend them in Florida. Another woman who retired there also stated that the winters aren't bad ... compared to the average snowfall of twelve feet in northern New Hampshire where she previously resided. Interesting that we cannot get a straight answer on this question.

Thirty one years ago on our honeymoon we parked near beaches and walked by the lighthouses and watched these little sand piper birds running along the beach. We watched the fog roll in and heard the roar of the waves crashing on the shore.

Now we can't get near the national seashore beaches or the lighthouses, parking costs fifteen dollars if you are lucky enough to get there early enough before the lots are full. Traffic is backed up for miles.  All of the other beaches are private and gated off or you need a town permit to park there. Our hotel advertised that they are a short walk to the beach. A short walk of one and a half miles.

This week was a particularly good week to take your young children to the town of Chatham located at the elbow of the Cape. The Cape looks like an arm of a person showing off his biceps and ending in a fist. The little kiddies were treated to great white sharks ripping apart cute little seals frolicking willy-nilly by the rocks.

I still like Cape Cod even though I do not like beaches. I hate the sand on my feet, I hate salt water and feel that when I step into the water I will step on a crab or sea urchin, get stung by a jellyfish and get bit by a great white shark but only after I realize I forgot to take my phone from my pocket thus incurring a $169 fee to replace it when I get out of the hospital with two hundred plus stitches that were required to sew my arm back on and a severe case of diarrhea from the antibiotics to treat the sea urchin sting.

On the way from New York to Cape Cod you have to pass through one of the least inviting states in the country, Rhode Island, which incidentally is not an island. Thankfully the trip from Connecticut to Massachusetts is only forty miles. Rhode Island does not even have a Welcome sign when you enter the state. There are no service plazas, tourist information centers and the rest areas are all under construction and closed. It's like going into a restaurant that has a sign that states that the rest room is out of order but you know that there is nothing wrong with it and they just don't want you to use it.

 

Not one bathroom for more than forty miles in Rhode Island and then none for the next fifty miles of Massachusetts! And for a couple with an enlarged prostate and IBS (I have the enlarged prostate, Ilana has IBS) this is no easy task. Rhode Island only wants people who own yachts or play polo. All others are encouraged to pass on through. At least Massachussetts has a welcome sign.

We decided to take a ghost tour of Barnstable Township the second evening we were at the Cape. I like the sound of that... The Cape. Makes me feel like I am an insider, a Capester! Let me tell you about the tour but be forewarned that after reading this you may not be able to sleep tonight.

We parked our car by the old jail of Barnstable at 8:00 PM. Oddly enough we were the only couple there. We thought that possibly the tour was cancelled and tried calling the tour company but we couldn't get a dial tone.

As the sun began to set a man walks out from behind the old jail dressed in colonial garb and wearing a tri-corner hat. He introduced himself as James Otis and asked us if we believed in Ghosts. I stated that I was highly skeptical. He stated that Barnstable is one of the most haunted towns in the Americas and that after this tour he guaranteed that I would be a believer.  I scoffed at him. He returned a self-deprecating smirk and collected the thirty dollar tour fee and we proceeded.

We began our walk and passed by several old homes and the town hall. James was very knowledgeable regarding the history of the area but there was nothing that he could say or do that would convince me that ghosts actually exist. After an hour we finally arrived at the last location of the tour, the Barnstable graveyard. There was very little light from the low Moon and there was a slight rustle of leaves from the trees.

 

James asked us to wait while he entered the cemetary first. After he entered he asked us to come in. He explained that the two waist high rock pillars at the entrance were there for the pall bearers to rest the coffin while they walked around to another entrance... the living entrance. He explained that the early residents believed that if they entered with the body of the deceased they too would die within the year.

After we had entered the old graveyard James explained that there were dark entities  along with the harmless souls that resided in the graveyard. He pointed out areas of the graveyard where sightings were frequent and often horrifying. He said we could walk around for a few minutes but to come back promptly as we need to leave as soon as possible. We started to walk and then turned around mere seconds later to ask James a question but he was no longer there. I walked to the head stone where he last stood and saw thirty dollars on the floor. I bent down to pick it up and when I had looked at the gravestone the name on it was ... James Otis!

Out hearts were beating so furiously they seemed like they would burst out of our chests. We ran to the tavern that was a block away and told them what happened. They stated that there hasn't been a tour in more than ten years as too many people were badly affected after entering the graveyard that the tour company could no longer get people to take the tour. Noticing our fright they told us to sit down and gave us a cup of grog to calm our jittery nerves.

At least this is what we told the kids what happened. I still don't believe in ghosts but I do enjoy these tours. We still haven't confessed that we made up the story and since they refuse to read my blog they will never know unless one of you tell them. And if you do and I find out, well, I can be very vindictive. We did take the tour given by Derek, head ghost hunter of the Cape and Islands Paranormal Research Institute and found the tour to be quite interesting. There was a family from Syracuse, New York, who took the tour three times this week.

James Otis was a local Barnstable politician and loyalist who got fed up with the King and  stated in 1756 that "Taxation without representation is tyranny". He promptly got his head bashed in for saying that but survived the attack. This was the educational component of this blog.

No trip to Cape Cod is complete without attending a performance at the Cape Playhouse in Dennis. The playhouse is a summer stock theater that has attracted many Broadway legends and continues to do so to this day at about  40% of the price of a Broadway show. They do six shows each summer. This year we saw Nunsense. Not one of my favorites but it was done well and had scenes that had us laughing so hard it nearly ripped the stitches out of my arm reattachment.

For dinner we took advantage of the cheap lobstah (that's how they pronounce lobster in the Cape) prices and had twin lobstahs. I didn't see a close resemblance in either of the lobsters and concluded that they must be fraternal twins. Ilana is a pro at eating lobstahs now. In an earlier blog relating our honeymoon experience I mentioned her first attempt at dismembering a full lobstah. It did not go well for the lobstah, Ilana or the people sitting at the next table who should have been wearing their lobstah bibs.

One thing I do not get is the attraction of the Lobstah Roll. They take the delicious lobstah meat, mix it with mayonnaise and celery and put it on a hot dog bun and charge you anywhere from $12.95 to $18.95. For $19.95 we had the twin lobstahs, salad and french fries at Salty's on Route 28 in South Yarmouth. Ilana could eat lobstah breakfast, lunch and dinner. Once a year is fine by me I prefer shrimp.

 

Note: I feel bad about my critical portrayal of Rhode Island. If I am wrong please let me know if there is anything worthwhile to do there. By the way a welcome sign would be nice.