Road Trip
The Barnes Foundation

It's All Relative(s)

My mother’s five siblings all lived in Buffalo, New York where she was born.  When I was little, we visited there from Pittsburgh every summer.  I was the only female in my generation, but I loved hanging out with my male cousins.  I still do.

One of them, cousin Gerry, was unlucky in love until he met a beautiful widow named Kathryn at a college alumni gathering two years ago.  She made her family debut at Gerry’s son’s wedding shortly thereafter, to rave reviews.

Kathryn has a cottage on tiny Clam Island, a five-minute motorboat ride from Branford, Connecticut. She and Gerry invited us to stop there for lunch on our way home from last week’s road trip.

Talk about paradise.  The island has no electricity so evenings are early to bed or by candlelight after watching extraordinary sunsets. There are only seven houses on the island, and everybody seems to like everyone else.  There is no 7-11 store so everything has to be carried in.  Butane gas runs the refrigerator and the stove.  The huge porch looks out over the rocks at Long Island Sound.  My favorite part was the four-person swing—I had to be pried out of it.

Kathryn made a stunning feast for a late lunch al fresco at a table set out on the rocks overlooking the water.  Our cousins Joannie and Arnie joined us from Rhode Island.  It was a scene straight out of La Dolce Vita.

Good news for Gerry—and the rest of the family.



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What a beautiful story, and how wonderful that love came to Gerry later in life. The cottage sounds idyllic.


Thank you for sharing the story and how your cousin found love. Helen

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