friday flashback - won't get fooled again

A million years ago, back before we had a house and kids there was money to be had. And we used that money to do things like go on vacation. Can you imagine? Not that they were fancy vacations, just a simple cottage that we rented with as many friends as we could cram into it. On most of those cottage trips we would take Ricky with us. Ricky loved going to the cottage even if he couldn't stand the feeling on sand on his feet. So much so that he would leave his sandals at the waters edge, facing back up the beach, so he could rinse his feet off and step back into them when he was done swimming. Not that it helped much so he'd spend endless amounts of time brushing, blowing and shaking sand out of them. Even still he was happy to be there. Happy to be independent of my Grandpa, his father. Happy to be hanging with the younger generation. And we all enjoyed his company.

It was during one trip to the cottage that an incident occurred. One that will be forever etched in my memory. One that never fails to make me smile whenever I bring it to mind. Ricky was a real creature of habit. He had very specific ideas (read he was stubborn as a mule) about how and when things should be done and Lord help you if you attempted to deviate from the plan. So when Ricky decided it was time for bed, well he just expected we'd all pack up and go to bed. Now this is not an idea that went over well in a cottage full of twenty-somethings with a fridge full of beer and a fire burning in the fire pit. It necessitated a quick conference between him and I where I explained to him that if he was tired he was welcome to go to bed, but he was going to have to stop coming out to the fire and sending everyone else to bed. After that he headed back inside, presumably to go to bed.

Fast forward a little bit and I'm headed inside for a beer run. To get there I must walk past the large picture window that looks into the living room of the cottage. The stereo is on inside and as I get there Won't Get Fooled Again by The Who begins to play. Out of the corner of my eye I see movement inside the cottage, I pause to check it out. It is Ricky, by himself in full air band glory. There are fist pumps, air guitar, and many many moves that are more than vaguely reminiscent of Elvis (Ricky's ultimate hero next to Hulk Hogan). Quietly I called everyone else over and we all huddled, transfixed at the window watching the awesome display. Silently I cursed not having my video camera or even my camera with me. Both were safely inside, going past Ricky the only way to get them. This was something that would live on in our memories only. He danced and performed for the entire song and when the end arrived and he made his bows to the imaginary audience Mike called in the window, "whatcha doin' Rick?" I wish I could adequately describe to you the look on his face when he realized we'd all been at the window watching the show. There was shock and a little bit of embarrassment, but I think overall he enjoyed the attention.

That was definitely one of our last trips to the cottage. Ricky passed away not too long afterwards and before too much longer Mike and I were married with a mortgage. We never rented that cottage again. It did come up this summer, with Abby being away with my Mom, the possibility of renting that cottage again. There's lots of memories there, I wonder if it's good to go back or should we make new memories somewhere else.