Life at The Can

I was listening to the Phils on WIP on a nice warm sunny day and was immediately teleported to The Can. Sitting in the front facing the road. The “loveseat” covered with an afghan, the tiny TV showing the Phils game, bad reception and bad color, but all good as Harry and Whitey came through perfectly. I can literally hear their voices as I would wander about the trailer. The fake wood covering the pull out dinner table and the counter. I can see Mom Mom at the little sink. Those fishing guys on the ledge staring at her. All those little cabinets hiding so much. That day I was driving and was listening, I was thrown back 35 years. Simpler times. Blissful. Happy. Pure. The Shore. The Can. The boardwalk. I can remember the off-white rope of the hammock and being so hesitant to get on it, but learned I had to get on it very carefully. The lights throughout with the side button to switch them on. Made of that plastic that only came out of the 70’s and 80’s. The shaped glasses with the yellow imprint on them and the classic Tupperware. I can vividly remember all the ugly colors of that stuff. Hahaha. I think one was like vomit green. All those cool little doors and closets. I can vividly remember the little handles. A black piece of metal and a white piece of plastic roller to latch into the male. The white plastic sink and the stand-up plastic shower with the hole Pop Pop fixed with the “same stuff they use on the spaceships…” I will always remember that quirky little shower handle you could hold in your hand and the skylight that looked up at the trees. Like you were in some different time, different place, relaxing. I remember when I got tall enough I would play with the winder in the middle of those skylights. I always kick myself for not staying more as I got older. Even after Mom Mom died. I wish I went down there so much more than I did in my 20’s. It was a special little trailer with so much history and love and positivity. I did make it down, but they were always quick visits. Always had something else to do. It makes me sad that you or Pop Pop just wanted some company; and I know you did have lots of company over the years, but there is no reason we couldn’t have had a bunch of us down there. Cooking dinner, enjoying laughs and music and sitting on the furniture; those puffy plastic/cushiony red wood chairs. What I would not give, well, really, I would give everything to just sit on that porch with you two and for things to be good and happy; like they used to be. Away from everything and just in our own little world. Away from the phones and the keeping up with the Jones bullshit. It took me a while to get why people spend time away, in those parks, in nature, away from the crowded streets and towns and inch worming up and down the highways and biways. I get why they park and drop that life before crossing the threshold. I know people will say we all are living our lives, but before you know it, life has drastically changed and, well, you’re no longer able to physically access these places. They are only in your mind or in your heart and privately accessible. It’s amazing so much joy was had from something so simple, but I think that’s where you realize you are content. At least in those moments. I can remember the last few times I ate dinner at The Can. When the sun sets and the little table comes out. The little warm lights are on. I became a tight fit at that table. Haha. Part of me thought the trailer was for little people. Haha. I remember how sad you were when it was pulled away, but that it was getting a new home and wow, totally refurbished. I would love to see it now. By the looks of your Pinterest account, you had so many more ideas for trailers and that life. I wish you got to start them. Most of all I remember the smell of the trailer and the grounds. The little small branches all over the place. The gray sand all over. Last summer when I was there, I got a chance to actually park a little bit down the road and notice a stretch of the grounds I could do a little workout in the next day. It was nice. No heat early, quiet, sunny. I think about how happy Seaville Shores made you and Pop Pop and Kathy and Mom Mom. That’s really the happiest memories I have about Mom Mom. I never felt like Edgehill was totally enjoyable to her. It seemed to cooped up for her. I can’t believe how long she has been gone. That doesn’t even seem real as far as the amount of time. Oh what I would give to get you all back, in a room with me, just to laugh, and smile, cry and talk. How I wish you could see how we have grown, traveled, developed, cried, laughed, and lived. When I travel I always think of you, Mom Mom and Pop Pop. I think of you in a way that is like you looking through my eyes, seeing what I am seeing, being where I am being, living like I am living. I bring you everywhere I am because you are inside my heart always. I don’t need to be shy about that. I don’t need to hide that. I never did have to do that when you were all around me. I miss you all. Bobby


 

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