At a yet tender age (at least to us),we are thisclose to fulfulling the American Dream Buffalo-style. If a few more dominoes fall into place, we too will have a cottage near the beaches of Lake Erie.
I can almost smell the mildew, feel the sand tracked across the kitchen floor and taste the Wardynski hot dogs on the grill.
We'll buy a boat to ferry nieces and nephews over to Sunset Bay or go for ice cream cones, boil huge pots of fresh-picked honey-and-cream corn and sip wine in the evening while watching the lightening bugs.
It will be the summer home-free for our children to take a break from their increasingly complex new adult lives and someday, a spoil-them-rotten-and-give-them-back haven for grandchildren. My grandfather made a wonderful place for my childhood there, to pick up those threads is my fondest dream.
In my way of thinking, we would be living large.
I recently attended a small soiree as the residents of a seven-figure beach house prepared to move on to their Paris flat and then to their London home for a spell.
Now before you get the idea that these are the type of folk who travel with a large entourage of babysitters, nannies, tutors and personal assistants, I should make the point clear. They have them in each city.
At one point the conversation turned to how a member of their entourage did not want to fly to an event in Virginia.
I pointed out that it was an easy ten-hour drive and with the the hassle of getting to and from the airports, the drive really wasn't that bad.
She flash a forgiving smile to me, the unformed child in an adult body, and explained through her teeth that they had their private plane at their disposal.
And although it may seem gauche, I let her know immediately that I own a private car.
Sometimes it's just a matter of perspective.



Copyright 2004 Judi Griggs