J's cousin has a lovely home in South Salem. On a lake the view is of a preserve in Ridgefield that will never be disturbed by NYC residents looking for a weekend getaway. A place to escape the hustle and bustle of the city with a $2 million unassuming getaway complete with high end bath fixtures and a three car garage. The view forever has been and will be, trees, a boat house with the beauty of each season shown in the tress.
Door to door it is a 20 minute drive on country roads. We refer to it as Vermont without the drive.
The guest list varied over the years as the two daughters both students at Ivy League schools would open their doors to foreigners and those from California, (same thing) who couldn't get home for the weekend. Their father, a lawyer at a prestigious firm would also invite associates and others to join. The discussions and the wines flowed.
Over the years we'd show up, eat up, clean up and drive home. 365 days later repeat.
We'd small talk, drink wine and associate with a group of people who otherwise had no reason to be in the same room. No yelling (Italian for conversation) about why didn't you call, It is your turn to take ma to the doctors or call me and let's have dinner sometime. Just 20-25 people together around the joy of eating and drinking.
Since his death 4 years ago T dinners without the host have left a void. Pre-dinner speeches have been curtailed and those who try to pinch hit have mostly grounded to second base, but at least they put their linguistic bat on the ball.
Still the anticipation of the day, the stuffing, that shrimp dish that always makes an appearance for appetizers, makes it all worth while. So too the after dinner and everybody has left aperitif complete with analysis, the how good or thin, so and so looks talk.
No drama, no family rifts, no postmortems re: the latest election. However this year I'm sure there will be some talk about the Kardashian look alikes and how they brought the generals to their knees.
What a country.
No comments:
Post a Comment