Following our days in Georgetown and Washington (refer post 67) we boarded a train once more. This time it was with a feeling of anticipation and excitement, as we travelled towards our final destination, the village of Mystic.
The train journey from Washington, via New York City, had been a long one and our sense of anticipation had been growing as we drew nearer. The views of the coast and water were lovely and we could already feel ourselves relaxing. So much so, that we were not even fazed when the conductor came with some unwelcome news – that we needed to be aware that the actual platform at Mystic did not extend to the length of the train. Therefore, that we would need to haul our luggage back through a number of carriages, until we reached the carriage doors which opened onto the end of the platform. Again, no mean feat for us with all our bags.
Also, the station itself had very little structure, and could almost be missed, were it not for the sign. Taking this in, I was reminded that when my family had lived in Mystic in the late 50s, early 60s, train travel was not widely embraced by Americans. I remembered that we came to understand that they much preferred to travel by car, hence the minimal investment in railways. In fact, in those 5 years that our family was there, I’m sure I’m correct in saying that the only time I travelled by train was when I went on a school excursion to New York City. Nonetheless, despite the effort required to get ourselves safely off the train, we continued to feel very positive and ready to embrace all that the next 10 days would hold.
Our earlier feeling of relaxation on the train was absolutely reinforced when we arrived at our accommodation, the “Inn at Mystic”. It was described as a “typical New England Inn”, which was surrounded by gardens and was set on a rise overlooking the “sheltered coves” of Mystic Harbour and Long Island Sound. The view out over the water was stunning and we felt that we’d come to somewhere which was very comfortable and restoring. In fact, we were greatly looking forward to being joined there by our daughter, Nikki, and her husband, Mike, for the last 4 days of our stay and we were confident that they would share our enthusiasm. They were coincidentally in the U.S. at the same time, for academic purposes, and I was very much looking forward to showing Mystic to them as well. Also, to sharing a meal with them at Mystic Pizza!
Pieter’s enthusiasm to explore matched mine and I was eager to start in the centre of the village, historic “down-town” Mystic, to hopefully enable me to get my bearings. A few facts could help readers to picture this area as well. The village is actually located on the Mystic River, which flows through it, and hence divides the village. Crossing the river is enabled by a 100+ year old drawbridge, the Mystic River Bascule Bridge, which is considered to be one of Mystic’s prime attractions. It has features which make it unique. For example, all its mechanical parts are exposed, hence it’s said to be fascinating to watch in action, which is hourly during daylight hours.
Our initial impression of the heart of the village was slightly disappointing, seeming to be rather rundown and neglected (remembering that this was in 2007). This impression was, however, a far cry from the way it presents today (as seen when googled) and my own feeling of disappointment at the time very soon passed, as we explored all the side streets and kept discovering areas that we loved. This was the “charming waterfront district”, where we were able to find some colonial era sea-captains’ homes, as well as church steeples and other landmarks.
Fortunately, this exploration did help me to get my bearings. Once we had located the Congregational Church, the central pinpoint which really stood out in my mind, I was then able to orient myself and to picture where the supermarket at which we had shopped had been, and where the spot where I got on my school bus each day was. And, with less enthusiasm, I had suddenly recalled the street where our dentist had been located, as well as the sense of dread which I’d always felt as I had approached it.
Once I had located these, I had no trouble finding the two buildings of greatest interest to me, the Methodist Church and the parsonage, which was a very short walk away and was where we had lived for all of those years. It was a large, 2-storey white house, which looked exactly as I remembered it, and we were shown around both this and the church by the then minister. The primary school which I and my siblings had attended was directly over the back fence of the parsonage and I can still remember my mother waving to me, as she hung out washing, when we were out in the playground at lunch time. As I recalled this, while standing looking out the back kitchen window, I was still able to recall the feeling of reassurance and security that this gesture had given me in our new situation.
Once we were shown inside the Church, which of course had been so integral in our lives then, I spent some time taking in every detail of the building – the side office where our father had spent so much of his time, the central area of worship where services were held, and then the basement area, which was used for many activities (Youth Group meetings, musical concerts, committee meetings etc.). In fact, there was a notice to say that one evening in that week (while we were there) they would be having a “Ham and Bean Supper”, to which those members who were coming would each bring a contribution (casserole, salad etc.) to share together.
I have mentioned this “gathering” and sharing of food because, looking back, I realise that it was something that was very much valued by Americans (at least at that time, I cannot speak for now), i.e. how much they valued their sense of community and getting together. I think that this can best be illustrated by the importance which they place on their celebration of Thanksgiving – an annual national holiday when they gather together to share a meal, to celebrate the “harvest”, and to reflect on all the things they are grateful for (family, community, the “riches of the land”, and other blessings). I can’t speak for how it is today, but back then, I feel that Americans had a gift for sharing and food played a very important part.
There was a warmth which I think was a big part of explaining why those years in Mystic were so valuable for our family, and why we had a sense of connection to those around us that we hadn’t had before. We felt totally included. Also, being inside both the parsonage and the Church had brought out a strong emotional response in me. When I thought about it, I realised that for me and, I think for all of us, those 5 years were the happiest of our family’s life. After years of changes (the years in India and then the years in Fiji, then the separation while our father studied in New York, which meant a period in boarding school for me and my next younger sister) we were all finally in a very happy place, where we were embraced by the church community and made to feel we belonged.
And, to end on a lighter note, and to demonstrate my attachment to this period in my past, I thought I would mention a recipe book, titled “Flavors of Fall”, which I picked up on that last visit to Mystic Seaport, where they had a wonderful gift shop. I was never quite sure why I bought it, other than that it represented this aspect of getting together and sharing and enjoyment, which I now realise I had very much valued.
I have never cooked anything from this book (apart from anything else, we wouldn’t have a lot of the ingredients) however, since writing this blog post, I have come to realise that that is not the purpose for me. I have kept it all these years, simply because reading the different sections (e.g. Apple Festival, Harvest Moon Hayride, Halloween Get-Togethers and Happy Thanksgiving) still brings back so much, and reminds me how happy those years were for our family.
Sue
P.S. Sue will be writing a final post on this subject in the months to come. In the meantime, Pieter will be back on 13 April with a post about Goa and his friend, Vivek, titled “Goa’s Goodwill Ambassador to Moreton Bay.”