Meeting new cousins, and surviving Boston

  ©2016 Lydia Hinshaw

Sunrise Thursday in Salem, MA

 SALEM, MA -- When I was 20 years old, I went with my mother and grandmother to visit my aunt, uncle and cousins in the Chicago suburbs.

 The youngest of my cousins at the time (another would come along later), was Joe, who had just turned two.  Joe was fast on his feet and had an even quicker mind, plus a yen for travel.  He was a knee-high Houdini who had already mastered ordinary locks and dead-bolts, and was hard at work learning to untie the knots in the rope his mother used to tie shut her double front doors.

 She considered it a blessing to have three adult houseguests to help keep him inside.  I was delegated to take him by the hand, hold on tight and walk around the block several times a day, to try to burn off some of his energy and wanderlust, and to give everyone else a break.

 It was clear Joe would go far, if he didn't escape the house and meet with disaster before he started school.

 Today Joe is in his 40s, holds a doctorate in mechanical engineering from MIT, and is married to his similarly accomplished high school sweetheart with whom he has two beautiful daughters, ages 10 and 7.

 They live in a suburb of Boston, which is why I hadn't seen Joe since his sister's wedding 17 years ago, and had never met his girls.  I don't like the idea of driving in the Boston area, which puts me in a very big club.

 My aunt in Chicago, now 83, learned from one of my brothers that we were traveling in New England, and she began calling me, and her son, and she gave us each the other's phone number, and then Joe called me, and was enthusiastic about seeing us.

 I have learned that if a family member in her 80s really wants you to do something, you should do it.

 And so, with some trepidation we headed south from Maine to Massachusetts Wednesday morning. Prince Charming took the wheel and soon rediscovered the aggressive New York driving skills of his youth.

 On the Internet I had learned of a campground nearby and my GPS found the campground itself, right on the water in Salem. (We didn't want to disrupt Joe's household by staying over on a school night.)  
 After we checked in, the GPS took us on a complicated route with what seemed like a dozen turns, on narrow and crowded streets, through a major construction zone and finally to Joe's house.  It was a white-knuckled adventure and we both wondered how we would ever find our way back after dark.

  We had a great visit.  Joe designs machines in the biomedical industry now, and is as interesting as he was as a toddler. We exchanged news on siblings and cousins who share our history of a beloved grandmother and a big old house in North Carolina.  I showed him my pictures of the family reunion there a year ago.
 The girls, smart, talented and athletic, are also typical children, and Joe got several opportunities to show off his skills as a dad, and a referee. 
 We went out to a nice dinner in on the water in Marblehead, later said good-bye in their driveway, and found, to our amazement, that the way back to the campground was half-a-mile shorter than the outbound trip, and required only two turns.
 Thursday morning we made our own escape from metropolitan Boston.  Friday, we head south.