Frank and the kids and I left for Lake George on Friday, stopping a few hours south and spending the night as to break up the 736 mile drive. We had friends and family coming from NYC, New Jersey, and Florida, and we were all meeting at The Twin Birches.

Quick road story: On 71 North I see a large billboard that read, "Next Exit: Grandpa's Cheesebarn." I poke Frank and point at the sign. "Oh, we are totally stopping there," he says, "I was going to stop at 150 miles for a break anyway." When we get out of the car, they kids are confused. It's not a Flying J Travel Center or a McDonald's, "Are we really stopping here?" Lindsey asks.

"Yes!" I answer, "It's a local attraction!"

"Yeah," says Frankie, "It's like The Statue of Liberty, only it's a cheesebarn."

The barn is large and full of rooms. Frankie points out that the music playing sounds like "a hillbilly Octoberfest." Damn, my kids are clever.

There are arrows everywhere directing us to the cheese. It is written on the carpet in yellow tape, C-H-E-E-S-E. These people are excited about their cheese. They have weird cheese flavors like Strawberry Shortcake Cheese and Pickle Cheese. I hold up one of the products and Frankie whispers it's name, "Cheese Bag." We start imagining the family that owns the place. We think that they probably make jokes like, "Grandpa, stop being so cheesy!" and "Hey, who cut the cheese."

We don't buy any cheese. But this whole thing is now in my stand up act. So, it was worth it.

Back to Twin Birches....

Years after our time our children in the Housekeeping Cottages my mother found on the mountain, my brother Paul found Twin Birches and started the going up with his wife Andrea and her sisters and their families and friends, as well as my brother Louis and his family. We joined them a couple of times, although Lindsey was not old enough to remember.

On the road Saturday, Frank and I stopped at a McDonald's just south of Saratoga Springs. Lindsey wass hungry, we all needed a pit stop and I needed coffee. As we pulled in to the parking lot, I had a strange feeling and thought, "Wouldn't it be funny if we ran into someone from our family here?" I didn't say anything to Frank, because it seemed like a silly thought, but as we head inside, he says to me, "Look! It's your father and Uncle Sal!"


So, before the official reunion, we had a mini-reunion right there in McDonald's with my Mom and Dad and my Aunt and Uncle. My mother was very excited and wanting me to tell stories right then and there and I was like, "Mom! We have all week! We have to pace ourselves. Plus, between me, Paul, Uncle Sal and Sally DiBella, someone's head it going to explode!"


We all head back to the thruway and as we get off the exit I don't need the directions anymore. We make the left on Route 9 at the house that I have always called "The Castle" and head to our home for the week. I look at my window and catch my first glimpse of the lake. My stomach does a little jump and I clap to myself.


Route 9 is lined with motels and housekeeping cottages. Some are kitchy and stuck in the 50's with their neon signs that read "Capri Village," "Melody Manor," and "Surfside on the Lake." Others evoke a Native American Spirit, although "Mohican Motel" would make
Hawkeye roll over in his grave.

As we pull into the driveway of Twin Birches, we see Frank's father, already comfortable in an Adirondack chair. My in-laws came up for the night to hang with us. They used to vacation up here too. We approach the office to check it and it seems we've all arrived at once, my sister and Peter, Andrea and the kids, Louis and his family.

It's tradition for us to check in, check out our cabins, and then make the rounds to everyone else and check out their cabins. Our unit is Lake View 1, more of an apartment than a cabin. The accomodations are very nice. At Twin Birches they keep up with everything. It's almost too perfect. I miss the creaky door of the cabin on Trout Lake Road, the bannister made out of a tree branch, the funny little latches on the bedroom doors, the mismatched furniture. We even have cable TV and a telephone here! (Although honestly, I didn't watch anything all week.)

I go upstairs to say hi to my sister-in-law Doreen and somehow, yet not suprisingly, her "cabin" smells like food. My sister's place is a few doors down, but I have to step over a large, smelly dog that belongs to our neighbor. (More on that later.) We can see the gameroom from our front porch and are a short walk to the pool. As my Mom and I stand on porch, a lady begins to wave at us. The lady turns out to be my "cousin" Diane, my Uncle Frankie's daughter. I think the last time I saw her was on my wedding day almost 19 years ago. She looks exactly the same.

I am pretty amazed by how little everyone's changed.

We all start to congregate on the driveway near my parents' cabin. There I see Sally DiBella and his wife Rosemary and Sal's son Joe, who I would know anywhere though I haven't seem him in 25 years. The hugs continue as Sally's other son, Charlie, comes walking down the hill. He is wearing the same smile he always wore, like the Cheshire Cat. Joe comments on how he thinks he saw Louis' daughter and Paul's son earlier. He's never met them, but somehow he saw the faces of his friends in them. I love that. Joe and Charlie are the same ages as my brothers. I am the little sister so this means the boys shifted between teasing me, ignoring me, and occaisionally letting me hang with them. The last time we were all here together, we were kids. Now we are all parents.

I am excited to see how our kids will get along. As we continue to get reaquainted and smile and laugh, I know it is going to be a great week.

...Part 4 soon....