“Heck, Asheville…You Came in 2nd.!!”

That’s right–Asheville, North Carolina was always on our Bucket List but you know what? The Tar Heel state ended up being our 2nd. most favorite state of all 50. No small accomplishment. North Carolina just couldn’t outpace our  #1 favorite–little Rhode island. So, after living 9 years in Asheville, that Blue Ridge Mountain enclave of artists…writers…nature-lovers, we went back home. We invite Asheville-ites to come to our smallest state in the US. Many similarities with laid-back Asheville. We lack the mountains but do have the ocean. 

Before a recent speaking event, Paul and I walked the grounds at Mt. Hope Farm in Bristol, RI. There was an event going on in the barn… a wine-tasting. Following the parking guide’s directions, I went back out to the gate on the main road and drove down the road to the parking area. When I passed a great green expanse, I recalled that I’d been there before—about 50 years ago for a polo match (yep–I’m getting up there, age-wise.) Why did I remember it? The event was wildly impressive: white linen tablecloths atop tables, aside the playing field…fresh flowers in cut glass vases…expensive wines and glass goblets, along with picnic goodies in baskets that people brought.

Those in attendance were dressed in finery, too, with the women wearing picture hats with broad brims, a la Kentucky Derby (you know, the horse race that evokes mint juleps in frosted metal cups). All so elegant. Then we watched the match where men hit a very tiny ball, while galloping atop giant steeds. All very Brit and very posh.

While walking the paths, we met two couples… both interesting. The woman of the first set lives in Bristol and readily admits: “I never go beyond this immediate area.” She simply would never have an occasion to go to where we live—East Greenwich/Cowesett area.She admitted that, laughing at her travel-challenged lifestyle. In fact, she was impressed we go all over. She was, I’m guessing, in her 40’s.

The second set—a couple in their 80’s (yes, I asked) we got to know quite well, for we spent a good forty-five minutes chatting with them. They were sitting on the steps of the log house which turned out to be our ultimate destination on the grounds. He (Ree-chard is Richard with a French accent) met Claudine when he was stationed in World War II, in France. She became his war bride (remember, the French regarded Americans as heroes and saviors from occupation by Nazi Germany). They’ve been married 60 years. They’ve lived in Florida but now they are back in Rhode Island as full time residents. They’re just two more Boomerrrang-ers (btw, I’m forming an actual group of such, because as I speak, more and more folks are coming up to me, saying: “We’re Boomerrrangers, too…We lived in Florida for 8 years but that was enough. So, we came back to Rhode Island.)” Therefore, I’m forming a club, so please add your name to the subscription list on this site, if you, too, want to be a member.

Ree-chard is a sailing aficionado…They’re not golfers. That’s important to note. I told them that we’re neither. That was a crucial determinant for how we chose where we wanted to live, in retirement, for we saw no reason to pay the extra fees that go with joining a boating or golfing condominium community. Plus, we didn’t want our conversation always rotating around subjects about which we know little.

So, a glorious fall day. The temperature climbed to almost 60 degrees. We had a lovely walk along the Bay. Another couple told us a seal was sunning himself on one of the rocks, but he’d disappeared before we could see. That’s not unnatural: Nearby Chatham, Massachusetts has been a mecca for seals in recent years, hence the Great White shark increase, too, for seal is the favorite diet of sharks.

Today, we met 4 friends. Another thing I noted? No one leaves Bristol…and if they do, it’s not for long. When the second couple asked where we lived, I told them Cowesett. The man seemed puzzled, so I said, “It’s up from Main St., East Greenwich…the harbor.” He then offered: “Oh, we never go to that far..”

I thought: “Here we are, in beautiful Bristol, a historic enclave in little Rhode Island, with folks who’ve been to France (one was raised there—the other was military-sent) but they admittedly never travel to our section of the state. Then again, we’d heard the same from the other couple….

So my conclusion? “What happens in Bristol stays in Bristol.”

And that means most definitely her people.

Boomerrrang is available via Amazon and Kindle. 

PS. If you’ve never been to Mt. Hope Farm in Bristol, RI, check it out…Walk the grounds. Bring your kids and dogs (we were the only ones without a furry critter.)