Accidental Holidays

Holidays aren’t necessarily planned things. The trick is to recognize them when they’re sneaking up on you, winking at you from some otherwise dark corner.

Jen and I were traveling from Boston up to Bennington, Vermont on a Friday after work to visit my favorite aunt. Aunt Mary Ann taught me how to live in a city, how to save money, she gave me solid relationship advice and, most importantly, she encouraged me to experience all the glories there are to be had in this world.

Mary Ann was in the hospital with a broken hip and wrist; at last report post surgery, she was fading and had yet to regain full consciousness. It seemed fairly clear that she didn’t have much time left on the planet. I was, of course, full up on worry, stress and fear with an extra large side of sad.

Jen was behind the wheel as we made our way west on the Mass Pike. We decided to break the trip, staying overnight in the Berkshires. On other trips to see Mary Ann we stayed in Great Barrington, a place with all the charm of a strip mall. This time, as an anxiety reducer, a balm of sorts, we wanted a place with just a touch of poetry.

Stockbridge would have been an ideal spot both for its beautiful great tall trees and hills AND the hippy/groovy nostalgic allure. Oh yeah -- Arlo Guthrie’s Alice’s Restaurant! The Red Lion Inn was the only game in town and it looked like an intriguing game -- an old Victorian white clapboard joint with a big front porch. It had shabby charm coming and going. Stunningly though, a room with a single bed (!!!) started, STARTED at $257. Ah, no thanks.

Jen and I decided to try West Stockbridge and we hit gold -- platinum actually.

The Shaker Mill Inn had one room left and it was 11 kinds of fab. It’s a small-ish inn with just a dozen or so suite style rooms. We opened the door of our room to cathedral ceilings, enormous windows looking out on the trees, gardens and surrounding mountains -- the place had a real posh but way comfortable, loft style ambiance.

Jen and I immediately plopped down on the big overstuffed couch and opened the wine which the proprietors had left for us.

The joint didn’t make everything all better but it was a tremendous comfort.  Just what I needed.

Alice's Restaurant -- Arlo Guthrie