My teeming brain

 In 1956, I believe it was, my grandparents bought their long-dreamed-of summer cottage. They actually purchased this cottage before they bought their first home, which they wouldn’t acquire until 1961. This must’ve been an incredibly important moment for them. They had rented places on Brome Lake for years, but buying a home was a life-changing event for them. My mother, who was just finishing university and starting her adult career, was frequently down for the weekends, and my father would soon join her. My young Uncle Greg spent most of his time there at that age. My great grandfather and my beloved Aunt Mildred were frequent guests at the cottage, and we had many other family members and guests there besides them. I’m sure that those early years at the cottage were wonderful for all those living them. My grandfather was an avid carpenter and builder who upgraded and renovated extensively to give us the beautiful home that we would cherish for many years. I can recall him and my grandmother building a new kitchen and bathroom and improving everything else. The veranda was designed with lovely old wicker furniture and antiques and my grandmother’s special touches were everywhere. Everything was painted and upgraded and kept in beautiful order. Beside the main cottage, there was a little cottage, which became my parents’ and our summer home. It was a small, cosy place, just  spacious enough for our young family. Let’s move onto this next generation in which my sisters and I played our parts.

My two sisters and I entered the picture in the late sixties/early 70s. we owned a family home in the suburbs as well, but the cottage was really the central aspect of our very young lives. I recall spending much of our time there from our earliest days. It was always our favourite place. There was nothing quite like going to spend time with grandpa, grandma and Aunt Mil in that comfortable spot. Once we were old enough to go to school, the cottage became the place we removed to as soon as school was out. From the end of June until Labour Day, we were generally at our home on the lake. We spent endless hours at play, generally directed by Aunt Mil, with my parents and grandmother joining in as they could. We learned to swim in the lake, and we learned to fish there too, thanks to my grandfather. We also learned to read there, and, fortunately, we all turned out to be lifelong lovers of books. 

I’ve mentioned how central my Aunt Mil was too my young life. Add to that my paternal grandparents, my young cousins, uncles and aunt, and you have my whole world as a small child. It was more than enough. A few years later, I met a boy, roughly my age who became a close friend through my childhood and teenage years. My sisters also acquired young friends, and our small social worlds very gradually grew. No one would ever replace my grandparents or my beloved aunt, but we had space for more people in our lives. This included a couple of American girls, who flew up from Baltimore every year for a few weeks. They were a welcome addition to our lives as well. As we grew, we took on more and more. We learned to operate a rowboat, then our motorboat, then my father‘s prized sailboat, a catamaran that he cherished. We had endless hours of pleasure on these boats as children, and when my young friend finally bought a faster speedboat in later years, it became the new prized thing. Overall, I think it’s fair to say that we were blessed with all the opportunities presented to us as youngsters.

When we were still quite young, our summer cottage became a year-round place as we winterized it for all seasons. For the first few years, things were very basic. There was no water or plumbing in the winter, only an outdoor well that had to be defrosted every winter weekend that we spent there. We brought in and took away everything with us. Once we had renovated it to add a modern kitchen, a bathroom and a few other amenities, things got a little easier, but it was always very simple and basic. It was a perfect place to learn to ski, and it became our favourite winter sport during our young lives. We became avid skiers who spent every possible weekend there as well as the Christmas and March breaks. Just as with our summer vacations, we felt incredibly lucky to spend as much time as we did with our family during the winter. 

As we grew, so did our hopes and expectations. Our world expanded and we along with it. We were able to take on more and were capable of ever greater challenges, The challenges of youth. At times, I thought myself capable of anything. All the same time, I also experienced the angst and occasional trauma of being a teenager. That wasn’t always easy, but it was part of growing up. We learn about our potential as well as our limitations when we’re young. It’s an important part of maturing, and I don’t think I did too bad job of it, although I certainly didn’t get everything right. Who does? In any event, life became a little more complicated as I grew up and created greater expectations for myself. I’m sure my best friend, my sisters and my cousins were all experiencing similar things. It was all part of coming of age in the 70s and 80s. It wasn’t always perfect, but it was genuinely authentic. 

When I was 14, my family moved to Oakville Ontario, where we spent the next five years. That was a huge adjustment for me, and I struggled for a year or so before I found my footing and made lasting gains in friendship. These were also the last years that we spent at our beloved cottage in the Eastern Townships. I’ve spoken already about growing up and all the attendant trials and tribulations as well as the many pleasures and joys. In this last period of life on Brome Lake, I continued to expand my horizons. I met new people ,who joined my older friends as companions in this exciting and sometimes scary life. There was a small but very special group of boys and girls who helped me grow into the more mature, confident version of myself that I longed to be. These people joined my existing world of chosen ones, my dear friends and ever-beloved family, and comprised a huge part of my teenage existence. 

And then suddenly, it all changed. By 1984, my grandfather‘s health was in decline. He had Parkinson’s Disease along with other health issues and just wasn’t well. At the same time, my family was very caught up with our life in Oakville and had less time for our grandparents and their needs. I believe it was in the autumn of that year that they put the cottage up for sale, and they weren’t long in finding a buyer. I’m not sure how focused on the reality of the sale my parents were until that happened. Certainly after the sale there was a lot of sadness and many regrets. I recall my uncle being devastated and taking things very hard. At the same time, I don’t think we had any strong prospects of leaving our home in Oakville. We considered ourselves to be permanent inhabitants of the neighbourhood, so we carried on there. My grandparents removed to their small townhouse in the city and got on with their life too, with my grandfather continuing to decline. The sale of the cottage proved to be additionally unfortunate when, year later, my father announced that they were actually returning to Quebec to resume their life there. In the intervening year, property values has increased by about $100,000, apparently, so this probably wasn’t a great experience for my grandparents. But life is what it is, and I’m sure that they appreciated the decades of wonderful times that they had at the beloved place on Brome Lake.

I recall feeling devastated by the sale of the cottage, like the rest of the family. It was a loss, unlike the sale of our homes in the city. It was just so much more significant. Of course, I was only 18 years old and had many compensations to look forward to.  Life carried on in the city, and I still had all my friends and my activities to keep me busy. Still, it was a major blow. I don’t think I fully appreciated the scale of the loss for some time. Certainly, to this day, it’s the only place I’ve ever lived in that I’ve revisited in my dreams. Several times in my life, I’ve returned to our old home on Brome Lake. These took place after the little cottage was torn down and the big cottage was replaced by something much grander.  Magically, it’s still there when I have returned, and for a brief, beautiful moment it’s ours again. Of course, these dreams are ephemeral, and waking up to reality from the cherished illusions has always felt rather sad and cruel. 

Since we sold our home on Brome Lake, I’ve been fortunate enough to be able to appreciate other places in the country. In the 90s, I had a partner whose family owned both a cottage in Parry Sound, Ontario, and a year-round chalet in Collingwood. I was young then but just mature enough to appreciate the beauty of these experiences. In the 90s, my uncle acquired and gradually renovated a small cottage in Abercorn, Quebec, which has since been transformed to a much larger, more substantial home that my cousin and her husband now operate and love. In 2000, my mother finally retired, and she and my father sold their city home and moved to their retirement idyll in Sutton, Quebec. That place was the great labour of love for them. They gradually renovated it to their taste and they made it a welcoming home for my siblings, their children, and me and my partner Jason. My father passed away in 2021, but my mother continues to live in the beloved place in Sutton, and I wish her many more years of happiness there. As for me, in 2001 I met my life partner Jason, whose family also comes from a long tradition of cottage ownership. Since the 1970s, his parents kept a small cottage that they used through all seasons. Then in the 80s, they acquired a larger property that they intended for their retirement and started work on the excavation and foundations. By the early 1990s, they had completed the basics of the home, and they continued to improve it. By 2002, it was a beautiful home that I was delighted to get to know, and Jason shared it with me willingly. Over the years, it has become our treasured abode as well as that of our parents and sibling, and we all delight in spending time there together. We never know what the future holds for us, but we can certainly enjoy everything that we have in the present moment.

Having said all this, I know nothing will replace our original cottage. It was unique, one of a kind, irreplaceable. It persists in my mind as a touchstone, a long-lost relic that continues to exist for me in a parallel and eternal present. It’s loss was cruel, and I don’t think we ever fully recover from that sense of abandonment. We move forward, but we never forget. As we do move forward, it’s with gratitude for that which was once ours. Nothing lasts forever, so we must appreciate all we have while  we have it. Once it’s gone, we must celebrate its memory and keep it in our hearts. In the end, what more can we do?