It was not a spontaneous escape. There were weeks of preparation and planning and discussion -- right up to the end we were wondering if we should pull the plug and give up. But Anna patiently shepherded the whole process, starting with choosing an Airbnb by sending a bunch of photos around in the early fall, trying to get other people to pay attention and think about what they wanted.
There were plenty of reasons to fret about the practicalities. That is, the real challenge of making sure we weren't going to bring covid with us and infect the whole group. Covid tests were scheduled, and people who seemed particularly exposed were put into quarantine for relevant amounts of time. Still we fretted because our family has people who work in hospitals, others who are over 80, one who has cancer, one who had cancer and who has underlying vulnerabilities (too much fat) in addition to a healthy group of young folks.
But the day came and we were ready. Negative covid tests all around. The usual mobilization had started a few days earlier, with menu plans and shopping. It snowed enough that we had to change our vehicle assortment so we had enough 4WD capabilities, just in case. We piled into a Subaru Forester, a Honda Fit, and a gigantic 4x4 pickup truck with a crew cab that seats six. The back of the pickup was filled with coolers and suitcases and things wrapped in plastic bags. We left Alissa and Julia to come later with a fully loaded car, after they had finished their telemeetings.
We were headed for a hilltop in Pennsylvania. I hadn't even looked at a map, but I knew we were going toward Hancock, MD, a well-known destination on the way to Oberlin (where there was an A&P that has so many family stories attached to it, it could be its own blog post. Most famously, a horse disembarked out of the back of the pickup truck once when we had stopped to shop -- or at least that's my memory.). Anyway, the route didn't require much attention because most of us have been out that way more times than we can count. In our truck there were two Oberlin grads, an Oberlin parent, a cousin/sibling who has been to Oberlin for many graduations and reunions plus Shaia. We had plenty to talk about and we barely noticed the scenery.
When we got to the smaller roads with snow and mud and ruts, we glanced up the ridge and Shaia said, "that's the house that Granna showed me in the picture!" It turns out she was right. She was the only one who knew what we were looking for. Jon got out and turned the dials on the front wheels and we chewed our way up the hill. A few minutes later, Mom and ML arrived at the top. And then a little while later we got a call saying the Fit was not going to make it up, and Jon went down to unload the car into the truck and bring everyone to the cabin.
It was a spiffy log cabin, built about 5 years ago by a family named Zook. Ten bedrooms on three different floors, three bathrooms, a spacious central area with enough couch space for 12, a nice nook for games and breakfast, and a very well stocked kitchen. The view was mesmerizing -- we could see a valley full of farms, various ridges to the east and south, and apparently we could see four different states. Indoors, the one thing that took a lot of attention was the array of animal heads mounted all around the room. Marble eyes that followed us for four days. A weird stuffed turkey with kind of neon skin on its neck. Each animal had a plaque with the name of the hunter and the date of death. There was even a black bear. We didn't love any of that.
In the late afternoon, we got a call from Alissa and Julia with a very flat tire. Luckily they were still very close to home and could be helped by Carrie, the only responsible adult left in the region. After they unloaded everything from their car for a second time (first time to get to the spare tire, second time upon learning they also had a dead battery) into our empty VW, they were back on the road. They had most of the food in their car, so we had to improvise a bit when it was time to start dinner, but there were no more mishaps after that rocky start.
I took off my boots when we went in the house on Thursday and I didn't put them back on until we left on Monday. Other people went on long daily walks in the snow, discovering trails and abandoned farm buildings and stomping through streams. They also found a cornfield that had hunting stands all around the perimeter.
We cooked, we played cards, we washed dishes, we read books, we watched movies in the evenings. Shaia had her pick of adult playmates, and Rebecca became the fort builder. We did not see another soul the whole time we were there. We forgot all about masks. We lounged on the couches in many different configurations. Alissa made some real delicacies -- most notable was the lemon curd from a Meyer lemon that Mom grew... and then she made meringue and created a deconstructed lemon meringue pie that was good enough for a wedding. My knitting stuff stayed in a pile on the floor, ready to be picked up many times a day. By the end of the last night, I had finished a rainbow scarf made of all the leftover bits of yarn from recent projects. By the last evening, we had all run out of words, it seemed. There was a solid half hour of silence with ten people reading and knitting and playing on their phones, after Michael had finished singing some of his newest songs, mixed in with some crowd pleasers from past years. Julia came upstairs from putting Shaia to bed and she stood in the doorway, wondering whether she was allowed to come in to this silent space.
Until this trip, we had not eaten indoors together in nine months. We had not shared a couch or watched a movie together. We have always had masks around our necks, ready to pull over our noses. It was luxurious to live as if there is no pandemic. We know we are incredibly privileged to have created an opportunity like this for ourselves. We are aware that we do not want to model behavior that could encourage other people to gather in groups -- unless they do all the work to make sure there is no covid in their midst. We just got home yesterday, so I guess we don't quite know whether we managed it, but knowing that covid tests are so unreliable, we have been living like masked monks forever. And the ones who work in hospitals are super careful -- their hospitals have successfully kept their workers healthy from the very beginning. I am not worried that this was a superspreader event. None of our out of state family joined us this time, even though that is our normal tradition.
On the last morning, the winter solstice, the sun came over the mountains at 7:35, exploding into view after a long rosy preamble. Every sunrise was glorious, even when it was foggy. The cabin was designed for sunrises.
When we stopped on the way home to get some fuel, we had to find our masks again. Our cocoon days were over. We were returning to the world where everyone is a hazard. Especially the Loser in the White House. It sure was nice to escape for a bit and recharge our souls.
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