escaping reality

When I was growing up the city folks would come out for the weekend. Usually arriving on Friday night and staying until Sunday. A short distance from my house two such families had their "vacation" homes. Well, they were mobile homes, what we commonly called trailers back in the day. Manufactured housing today. We became friends with those folks. How that came to be I couldn't say. They were the Connelys and the Zelinskis. The spelling of their names may be wrong, but I remember them well. Mr. Connely, Jim, was quite a character. A boisterous man that certainly enjoyed life. He drove a Saab, the only one I had ever seen at that time. He loved to build a fire in the yard and cook hamburgers on it. What he did for a living I have no idea but I'll always remember his singing. This must have been the summer of 1965 because he would sing that song, Wooly Bully by Sam the Sham and the pharaohs at the top of his lungs. Looking back I know realize he was usually slightly inebriated. He was, after all, on vacation. 

 Further down the road from the Connely's were the Zelinski's. They had a son named Tim and I would go there to play football with him. Every weekend during the summer months I would go by and see if they were home. They did come most weekends. He had an older brother that didn't bother with us kids, and his parents were rather reserved people. They had other folks that had a trailer across from them that they played cards with. They too, were from the city, although the reality was it was just someplace up island from us, not New York City proper. Still, we thought anyone from up island came from the city. 

 Now I wasn't really aware of this growing up, these folks coming to a vacation spot, like an amusement park to them. That these people drove an hour or more to just come to my town amused me. I did wonder why they came out there. I imagined the city was a stifling place, probably full of crime. They must come to escape all of that. At least that is what I heard the adults say. That these folks came to "party" wasn't in question, it's what they did. I figured they must have a good amount of money, to afford to vacation every weekend! Well, they did own a second home and drove foreign cars. 

 So here it is almost sixty years later and I wonder about those people. The trailers are long since gone of that I'm certain. I left that town nearly fifty years ago myself, my vacation over. Yes, I'd say the majority of my childhood was like a vacation. I had a few odd jobs and worked at the IGA for a while. Later on I worked full time right on Main Street. But reality reared its' head and decisions were made. The vacation was over. I wasn't aware that I was living in the vacation spot, in the amusement park as it were. That a great deal of the economy of that town was dependent upon the tourists I was very much aware. It remains that way to this day. The tourists have all but purchased the entire park now, they certainly control things. One day the vacation for them will be over as well, it's a cycle. Once the transition is complete that is. 

 When the vacation spot is turned into home, a new destination will be desired, to escape. It's just the nature of things. Reality gets boring, reality can become drudgery, we need an escape, a vacation. A place to go that is different, that offers more; or less. I expect those city folks thought they were in the wilderness, and I was just in my backyard. Reality is an illusion, depends on what you choose to believe I suppose.