Magic in the Air

Magic in the Air A reminiscence by Dave Moir As I reflect on the past, it’s not so much melancholy as it is a genuine appreciation or perhaps a deeper understanding that I carry with me lately. I don’t think it’s brought on by age necessarily, or even by my impending retirement. I feel as if I’ve always been a bit introspective and have always appreciated the many blessings in my life. The ones that outshine all others are my wife of 30 years and my two wonderful children. We were high school sweethearts, our first date taking place some 38 years ago thanks to a Sadie Hawkins dance. “How do you feel about dances?” she asked, and the rest is history. We were quite the couple, she in blue gingham and me, matching blue plaid shirt and jeans with some snazzy red suspenders. Although it was well advertised, it seems our circle of friends were the only ones who bothered to dress up … we theater kids leapt at the opportunity … and so began this amazing life together. And so also began this “Up Islander’s” introduction to the magic of the east end … It was 1931 and my mother-in-law was three years old when her dad bought the bungalow in Noyac. Summers were wonderful for Mom and her four strapping Irish brothers, all enjoying their stretch of beach on Noyac Bay. I first started to go “out east” when my wife and I were still in high school. At the time, the ride down Noyac Road seemed endless, but my wife’s nimble convertible Corvair instinctively knew the way. Truth be told, it was the fact that my wife had traveled the route hundreds of times. My wife Jeanne was actually born in Southampton hospital and for the first year of her life lived in the bungalow with her parents and older sisters. I remember hearing how she was born early on a Sunday, making Dr. Kennedy miss mass at St. Andrew’s in Sag Harbor. By this time, Mom’s brothers had chosen to summer upstate instead, letting my future in laws buy them out thereby having the bungalow to call their own. I often wondered how the brothers could let go of such a amazing place. I can remember my mother-in-law telling us how she and her brothers would head down to the “point” and swim all day. At low tide the clamming would begin. With a knife and a bottle of ketchup tied to their waist they would clam, shucking them right there in the water … a bit of ketchup and down they would go. Weekend nights were spent in Sag Harbor, dancing to the jukebox at the Paradise. Then there was the time when, as a little girl, her mother encouraged them to have a tea-bag fight in the kitchen since they were going to be repainting it. She would laugh as she described the fun they had and how the teabags left stains splattered on the walls. So many wonderful stories! There was the time that my mother-in-law had stepped into a shop in Sag Harbor, leaving her young daughter outside in a baby carriage. She could see her baby through the window, but during the transaction turned to find Cary Grant had scooped the infant up and brought her into the shop. Her embarrassment was magnified given the deliverer! My wife’s family soon relocated to Lake Ronkonkoma as a permanent residence, but it was still entire summers spent at the bungalow. Two parents, four kids, one beagle named Sam, a lawnmower, gas can, supplies for summer and a big cigar all crammed into the family station wagon. Prone to motion sickness, it was a blessing for my wife that they had to stop at least once during the trip to allow Sam to relieve herself … it offered a break from the cramped, pungent ride. As the family would continue down Sunrise Highway and cross the Shinnecock Canal Mom would always smile, extend her arm out the window and exclaim, “Feel the air change!” … for her, this was where it all started … the fun, the excitement … it was something in the air … she was certain that this was where the magic began. How she loved it out there! To this day, it is something we do with our own kids. Despite the blessing of air-conditioning, we say, “Open the windows guys … feel the air change!” In the early days of my trips to the bungalow, I would head out with my future wife and stay over for Memorial Day weekend … in a separate room (of course). In fact, I slept upstairs … completely alone. I’d awaken to the sounds of laughter coming from the kitchen and the aroma of bacon and eggs frying in a skillet. My father-in-law’s cousins were always in attendance, and still join us to this day … it was so festive! A little self-conscious (after all, I was the new boyfriend) I’d come downstairs and be warmly greeted. My future mother-in-law was always so loving and completely welcoming … the consummate hostess. From the very beginning, I was treated as family. The laughter continued throughout the day and I was always comfortable … always at home. As time passed, and after we were married, my in-laws very generously let us live in what had been a freestanding garage at the bungalow. My father-in-law partially converted it into what we called the “little house”. I say “partially” because it was mainly studs and plywood with no heat with water supplied by a garden hose hook-up. They relished the simple life and as a young married couple, we were more than grateful. My wife and I had been in need of a place to stay while we waited to close on a townhouse in Calverton. Noyac was an amazing place to spend the summer. We were both employed at Guild Hall that year. I was an administrative assistant at the John Drew Theater and she, all five feet of her, a security guard in the gallery. Friends of ours were the artistic directors and it was the perfect summer job for a couple of young music teachers. So many memories came from this wonderful summer! Shopping at the East Hampton A&P for grapes and cheese for the latest John Drew reception, tending bar and serving George Plimpton, seeing Alan Alda drop Mrs. Alda off in front of Guild Hall while he went to park around back. Calling Shelley Duvall to tell her we found her notebook … It was the summer of the musical, “The Case of the Dead Flamingo Dancer” … we were all hopeful it would find the right backers and land on Broadway. After all, it had worked with “The Fantasticks” years ago. Toots Thielmans charmed us with his harmonica and Gary Burton amazed us with his vibes. We were immersed in the life of the Hamptons and loved every minute of it! Throughout, we were blessed with even more time with Mom at her precious bungalow. As with so many good times, the summer seemed to fly by and soon the chill of fall began to set in. School had begun and we both had quite a commute. We’d be up at the crack of dawn but always made it a point to first walk out front to the beach to enjoy the beautiful sunrises that took place just to the east over Long Beach. The serene Noyac Bay mornings, long gone were the water skiers and summer revelers. Left to us was the crisp fall air and the glowing red orange sunrise reflected in the water. Through the years, and as our kids were born and grew, so many wonderful times were spent with grandma and papa at the bungalow. Memorial Day weekend leading to so many weeks in between, summer ending with Labor Day and many trips throughout the fall and winter to see the dramatic changes that took place at the beach and on the bay. Yes, it’s been 38 years that I’ve been blessed to be with my wife … and blessed to have been a part of her amazing, welcoming family. Sadly, it’s been some 7 years now since we’ve lost Mom. After she passed, the family gathered at the bungalow and my sister-in-law and her husband took the rowboat out onto the bay mom loved and spread her ashes. She isn’t really gone though … she is very much alive … in all of our memories of those many magical times spent at the place she cherished most. I can still hear her laughter and see her beautiful, smiling face … she is in every room and with us on the beach … and she’s always with us when we open our windows to feel the air change …