I as talking to one of my sisters the other day, and we got to reminiscing about our grandparents and parents.
We used to vacation on Tyler Lake, Litchfield County, Connecticut, in the summers once we stopped going to Maine.
Gramps, my dad, and I took a ride one day, to look for someplace selling worms for fishing. We went up some back roads in Goshen Connecticut and ended up at the boat ramp at West Side Pond.
We got talking to the man at the cottage next to the ramp, and Gramps liked the area so much he asked if there were any places for sale. The man said that he was the only one using the cottage now as his kids were grown up, and his wife no longer wanted to come up, so he would be willing to sell his place.
Gramps negotiated a price with him, and we ended up buying the place, fully furnished, the same day.
Mom was transcribing Braille at the time, and when we walked in Gramps went up to her and told her that he had bought the cottage.
Mom was unable to do anymore Braille transcription for days afterwards, because she was shaking so much.
For many years the family used the heck out of that cottage. On any given weekend there were twelve to sixteen people sleeping, eating, and just enjoying the surrounding area.
Even so, Gramps used to tell my mom and dad that he hoped he hadn’t stuck them with a “white elephant”. The cottage stayed in our family until mom and dad moved down to Florida, at which time they sold it for around ten times as much as he paid, using that money to buy their place outright in Florida.
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