Last summer my grand-daughter Rachael spent a week at Music Camp at Chautauqua. Her parents and I drove up to attend their final concert. We enjoyed the experience so much that Beth and Mike decided to rent a house for a full week this summer when Rachael was at Music Camp. We were disappointed when Covid-19 forced cancellation of the Music Camp, but decided to make the best of an unfortunate situation by going there for a week anyhow.
In reality, we merely moved our quarantine site from Allegheny County to western New York State. Masks were much more prevalent there than they are here, and people appeared quite comfortable keeping a respectable distance from each other.
The house we rented was in a perfect location, situated close to Bestor Plaza, the Town Square that is the heart of Chautauqua Institution, and equally close to the lake front, as well as being close enough to Miller Bell Tower that we could hear the bells every quarter hour.
A particularly attractive feature of the house was the large front porch, with its view of the lake. We probably spent more of our waking time on the porch than inside, which got me wondering why porches aren’t more popular in my neighborhood. It must be related to the vacation state of mind; when we are home we can’t seem to find time to sit on a front porch and relax.
There are four seasons at the Chautauqua Institution. “The Season” begins in late June and runs for nine weeks. In normal years it is filled with activities – concerts, lectures, ballets, plays, etc. – and crowded with visitors. All this was cancelled this year, of course. Spring and Fall are quite pleasant; the crowds are gone and it is possible to relax and enjoy the charm of a centenarian Victorian community. Winter is nearly unbearable – cold and dominated by several hundred inches of snow.
We drove up in two cars. Beth, Rachael, and I rode in my van; Mike, separately in their Ford Focus, with our Mini-Fish sailboat lashed to its roof. The Mini-Fish is a slightly smaller version of the Sunfish – same hull, but a smaller sail and shorter mast. We bought it in 1975, hauled it with us wherever we went camping.
It was a real treat to see its familiar sail with its characteristic pumpkin-colored sail out on a lake again. I am impressed that it still is perfectly serviceable. I wonder how many things that were purchased for $300 forty-five years ago are still useable.
There were two kayaks at the house; Beth’s family made good use of them. Being close to the lake, it was easy to take all three of these boats down any time someone wanted to spend some time out on the lake.
Chautauqua is an excellent place for octogenarians to get in their exercise by walking. Vehicular traffic is discouraged inside the Institution, in favor of pedestrians and bicycles. There is a major network of red brick sidewalks with interesting things to see everywhere.
My curiosity regarding the origin of the bricks was cured on one of our walks when we found a driveway at a private home where the border bricks were turned to display their name – Jamestown Block. The nearby Jamestown Shale Brick Company was a major supplier of pavers up until 1935.
On one walk I found myself at the Amphitheater and realized I was close to the Hall of Philosophy. In addition to being a possible candidate for a pen-and-ink sketch, the Hall was a potential source of inspiration for me, so I decided to walk over to it.
The Hall is a large open-air pavilion, with a heavy roof supported by massive pillars. Its floor is covered with mosaics dedicated to great thinkers. I found a bench near one for Charles Dickens, hoping some of his genius would rub off on me. The results remain to be seen.
Monday night was our monthly Book Club Night. During the pandemic I have been hosting it virtually, via Zoom. It was just as easy to do it remotely from Chautauqua as from home. We reviewed Umberto Eco’s book, “The Name of the Rose”.
On Wednesday Beth’s family humored me with a ride on the Arcade and Attica Railroad excursion trip, a suitable subject for next week’s column.
Thursday Beth, Rachael, and I went blueberry picking at a farm that calls itself “The Blueberry Patch”. This is a big operation, with several thousand bushes in neatly separated rows. Each bush is about five feet tall, filled with berries in all stages of ripeness. Picking turned out to be an art. The ripe berries are truly blue, distinctly different from the darker ones that the none-discriminating picker thinks are ripe. The ripe ones come off at a touch, not requiring any pulling effort whatsoever.
Rachael and I were immediately rewarded for our efforts when Beth served us blueberry pancakes for lunch. Even the not quite ripe berries I picked tasted good in the pancakes. Even better was the blueberry pie she produced later in the week. I think we picked about six pounds of berries; should be a few more pies in our future!
Two couples from my neighborhood – Howard and Peggy Alex, and Anne and Randy Fox – have summer homes at Chautauqua. One evening we walked along the lake shore and met both couples for socially distanced drinks. A lovely evening with good friends, despite masks and separated benches.
Both families spend a significant part of the year at Chautauqua, much as we used to at Conneaut Lake. It is easy to envy them that experience, especially during “The Season” in normal years. However, the older I get, the more I treasure the security and routine of my home. I certainly am happy to back in my favorite easy chair, looking forward to another week at Chautauqua next summer.