Pat & Rich followed their dream and moved from New York to the Cape, .......they can help you live your dream too!
The Cape Cod Bug
by Pat Montague
If I had identify a time when I was bitten by the Cape Cod bug, I would have to confess that it was back when I was attending college in Rhode Island. Coming from a suburb of New York City, I had a somewhat different view of the seashore. Our local town beach was nothing special---just a nondescript inlet of Long Island Sound with grayish sand and crowds of people---hardly worth the bus ride from the other side of town. The Long Island beaches were a long drive away and without a car to call my own, they were beyond my reach on a hot summer afternoon.
With summer and my high school years ending, I was preparing to pack up my barest essentials and ship off to Rhode Island to attend college. Not knowing quite what to expect, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that New England held many new enjoyments for me. I would spend many afternoons strolling through the historic areas of College Hill looking at the old colonial homes and I even had the good fortune to live in an old Rhode Island Victorian (magically transformed into a women’s dorm), complete with wrap-around porch, curved staircase and stained glass windows.
It was not long before I was able to venture beyond the campus and discover another magnificent New England attribute….the beaches. Befriending several car-owning students, one of my first forays into the world beyond Providence was a weekend on the Cape. It was then and there that I formed a bond with this little spit of land that was to call me back time after time, finally compelling me to make this place my home.
From my first trip over Bourne Bridge, I was hooked. I impatiently awaited my next visit, longing to feel the salt air and the warm sand. Before long, I was spending more time on the Cape than I was back at school---a fact that did not go unnoticed by my mom and the Dean. I was somewhat vindicated when I conned my mother into spending a weekend on the Cape with me and I got her addicted to Cape Cod as well. Her love of swimming and of seafood helped to push her over the edge.
It became my dream (aka obsession) to own a home here. When I was finally out of college and actually earning a salary, I dragged poor mom around looking at homes for sale. She was almost as enthusiastic as I was but some what hesitant to take the real estate plunge. We often talked about how we would manage our Cape Cod purchase with mom living here in a sensible, well-built ranch home and me commuting to the Cape on weekends .
It was not until 7 or 8 years later that I actually realized my dream. By this time I was married and it was my husband and I who were haunting the newspaper real estate sections to find our “dream” cottage. On one of our very first ventures into the world of Cape Cod real estate we fell in love with a true “ugly duckling” - - - a solidly built ranch with absolutely no curb appeal but loads of potential. Our little cottage was all we could afford so we happily managed to overlook its visual challenges. To us, it was a budding architectural masterpiece which would soon grace the covers of Better Homes and Gardens.
I can attest to the fact that some paint, some sweat and some vision can make a powerful difference in a home. Before long, our little neglected cottage was shinning and welcoming friends and family to summers on the Cape. It became our respite, our second home and our party house before our children came along. When our family grew, our little cottage was the source of many happy memories.
Having lived elsewhere in the universe (commonly referred to as “off Cape”) I could never quite conquer my emotions when I had to shut down the cottage for the winter. Following the pipe-draining ritual, I would join the endless parade of moms, dads and minivans for the long journey back to our winter lives. I always felt a sense of loss----of summers past and of life changing. We were all thinking about heading back home to work, the kids going back to school and the dog going back to the vet for a sand flea treatment. Most of the trip would be spent in a silence broken only by the momentary panic of groveling for change for the Mass Pike.
What is it that intrigues vacationers, visitors and summer people and keeps us coming back for more year after year? Why can’t we ever really get enough of this place, the sun, the surf and rotary traffic jams? When the burden of travel finally gets too great, we are compelled to search out a piece of this place to call our own---just a small slice of the Cape to have and to hold and build our dreams upon and avoid the bridge traffic. Perhaps we are all just looking for that “endless summer” and owning a piece of the Cape is one way to ensure that our summers will never end.
