January 24, 2001

When my 3 boys were real small we used to take some Sunday morning rambles we called adventures. My wife, Gina, would be taking care of business at home and the boys and I would be off. We would pile into our old Volkswagen bug and head north for our adventure. We didn’t have a destination. We would kind of wing it as we went along.

I was the driver so I would pretend to be the pilot of a jet airplane. I had a nice technique of holding my nose while I gave out information to the passengers. It sounded just like the pilot on a real plane. And the boys loved it. Well, our oldest boy, Ross, pretended it was way too dumb for him, but he really enjoyed it too.

Our second boy, Brian, always had the spirit of adventure. He liked to sit in the front seat with me and he grinned and laughed thru the entire trip. Our third son, Kevin, sat in the back seat with Ross and was kind of quiet. Kevin was trying to figure out if he wanted to show the enthusiasm of Brian or be laid-back like Ross.

Our house was on Bridge Street in Beverly and we always seemed to end up on Route 1A heading north. One of our first stops would usually be the fire station heading to North Beverly. The firemen there were really friendly and after a few visits we became regulars at the fire station. The boys had permission to climb into the front seat of the fire engines and even to ring the bells and sound the siren.

Another favorite stop was the old Cherry Hill Farm. It’s gone now, but then it had a real big barn filled with cows. I remember the first time we were inside the barn something scared the cows and they all started mooing at once. And I also remember that Ross didn’t like that at all. Next to Cherry Hill was the Beverly Airport. Sometimes we used to hang out there and watch the planes take off and land.

Now we would head up Route 1A again and stop off at the polo field at Myopia Hunt Club where the horses would be in the big field grazing. I remember the horses all had name tags so we got to know them pretty well.

Each of my boys had a favorite horse at Myopia. And the boys would feed their favorite with the grass they pulled from the ground. This was kind of scary because the boys had to hold the grass close to those big teeth. I still remember the name "Detour" as the big favorite and the friendliest.

In the winter we would sometimes visit Cranes Beach. It was so beautiful on a winter morning. Blue sky. Blue water. And very quiet and peaceful. We used to amble about the beach and throw rocks into the ocean. The boys liked to scramble around for special stones or shells that they had to collect and bring home.

Then we would usually head back toward Beverly and might stop off at Lynch Park for another amble on the beach. I remember the Lynch Park beach had great rocks that were just right for throwing into the ocean. Sometimes we would head over the old Salem-Beverly Bridge visit a pet store in down- town Salem. Sometimes on a warm, summer day we might stop off at Salem Willows for a swim or just hang out on the beach.

When it was time to head home for lunch we usually had a little challenge. One of the boys would become the designated pilot and he had to give me directions on how to find our way home. The boys were never short on confidence so they were happy to take on the challenge. Those trips home were truly rambles. On those days we rambled home thru some roads and streets not listed on any maps.

And once we missed a crucial turn and got off the main road a 20 minute drive could become a 2 hour excursion. But with just a few experiences as pilot it was amazing how resourceful and observant the boys became. They became very sharp at picking up clues and figuring out how to get us home.

Those were great mornings. The Sunday adventure would be very low key. We had no plans and no schedule. We were just cruising around. No crowds. No tickets to buy. No lines. No waiting. No hassle. No pressure. And plenty of time to just hang out.

I remember we also had a Saturday adventure. The boys attended Saturday school at St. Alphonse’s Church in Danvers and I usually dropped them off and picked them up. My boys and I had worked out a trick where we would pick up other kids who lived near us and drop them off too. But we had a special joke we used to do with the new kids.

I would tell the new guest to say, "right here" when we came to his house. As we approached the boy’s house he would say, "right here." And I would cruise right by his house and take the first street on the right. The boy usually would get upset and tell us we had passed his house.

I would then circle the block and make another approach. And my boys would remind the boy to say, "right here" when we got to his house. We would get to his house. He would say, "right here." And I would go by his house and take the first street on the right again.

Well, with some kids we could make 10 runs by the house until they caught on. And my boys would just howl every time we went by the house. Pretty soon the word got around at the church and we had kids lined up with an unsuspecting buddy ready to hop in the car and have some fun.

Sometimes I look at the price of taking kids to Disney World and I can’t believe it. I check the price of going to Fenway Park or the Fleet Center and I can’t believe that either.

I never invested that much money into entertainment for our kids. But we sure had some great times with our low-cost, leisurely adventures.