Chester. He was Chief Vacation Buddy in this branch, and he would have been a happy camper no matter where he had been sent on vacation. There wasn’t really time, we agreed, for a cruise, if all we had was a week in summer. And anyway, I confessed, Brian wasn’t cruise material, as he didn’t own a dinner jacket and might get bored. Bored on board ship? Chester was unbelieving. But he had other suggestions.
Perhaps a cultural tour of four European cities via luxury bus? For all that he liked writing poetry, Brian wasn’t that interested in museums and art galleries. I couldn’t see him standing in line in Paris and Bruges. Culture didn’t loom large in his life.
Then what about a beach holiday, if he was anti-culture? A place where the ladies go around topless? Chester asked. I told my new Vacation Buddy that Brian wasn’t anti-culture, just that four cities full of it in one week and lots of luxury busing along autostradas and autoroutes might not be his thing. He hadn’t been well, and he needed cheering up.
Disneyworld? A theme park? Chester suggested and I refused. He didn’t need
that
kind of cheering.
One by one, I rejected: learning to snorkel, bridge for beginners, cooking in France and the gardens of Andalucia. Chester was beginning to despair. Never had he met such an unsnappy senior.
“Suppose it were up to you, ma’am. What would you like to do?”
“But it’s not up to me. He’s had a shock, you see. He’s not well. He needs the holiday.”
“But if it
were
up to you, what would you choose?” Chester hated admitting defeat; it just wasn’t what Snappy Seniors’ Vacation Buddies did. I paused to think. Supposing that Brian would like anything I chose, what would I pick?
“You know, I’d like to go ancestor hunting,” I said eventually. “You know, looking in old graveyards and parish records.”
Chester was immensely cheered. “Where are his people from?”
“No, not
his
people … mine. Brian’s father came from a village in Russia that no longer exists.”
“Most places are still there in some form,” Chester said reprovingly.
“No, truly, the whole population of the village left for the United States. It’s my roots I’d look for. A long way back, but I’m sure there’s something.”
“So where’s that, then?” Chester was so relieved he might actually sell me a vacation that he was beaming at me.
“Ireland,” I said. “My people were Collinses from Ireland. I don’t know where.”
“Let’s go hunt,” Chester said with the enthusiasm that earned him the position of Chief Vacation Buddy of the branch. He tapped at his computer for a while and looked back at me full of smiles.
“Originally from Limerick,” he said triumphantly. “But they were driven out by the Anglo-Normans and ended up in West Cork. Which area do you want to start in?”
“Where were they in their heyday?” I asked.
“Limerick, I think. They were lords of the Barony of Conello then.”
“Oh, then let’s try Limerick.”
He was good, Chester was. He didn’t want us to spend our whole vacation stuck in a city looking up people who’d been dead for hundreds and hundreds of years. If my husband was ill, if he was difficult to please and in a bit of shock, Chester said this wasn’t the kind of restful holiday we needed. Maybe we should consider the neighboring county, County Clare. There are lovely drives around the Burren, unusual plants to see, castles to look at, porpoises and dolphins in the Atlantic, for the days that we don’t spend looking up my roots. Plus nice comfortable hotels and good food. Build my husband up it would.
At Snappy Seniors’ they wanted us to be happy; it meant repeat business. I felt guilty talking about Brian behind his back. He was such a good man who only wanted the best for everyone, but now he was like an empty shell. No matter how hard Chester and I tried, I feared nothing was going to put a smile on his face or life back into his
Perhaps a cultural tour of four European cities via luxury bus? For all that he liked writing poetry, Brian wasn’t that interested in museums and art galleries. I couldn’t see him standing in line in Paris and Bruges. Culture didn’t loom large in his life.
Then what about a beach holiday, if he was anti-culture? A place where the ladies go around topless? Chester asked. I told my new Vacation Buddy that Brian wasn’t anti-culture, just that four cities full of it in one week and lots of luxury busing along autostradas and autoroutes might not be his thing. He hadn’t been well, and he needed cheering up.
Disneyworld? A theme park? Chester suggested and I refused. He didn’t need
that
kind of cheering.
One by one, I rejected: learning to snorkel, bridge for beginners, cooking in France and the gardens of Andalucia. Chester was beginning to despair. Never had he met such an unsnappy senior.
“Suppose it were up to you, ma’am. What would you like to do?”
“But it’s not up to me. He’s had a shock, you see. He’s not well. He needs the holiday.”
“But if it
were
up to you, what would you choose?” Chester hated admitting defeat; it just wasn’t what Snappy Seniors’ Vacation Buddies did. I paused to think. Supposing that Brian would like anything I chose, what would I pick?
“You know, I’d like to go ancestor hunting,” I said eventually. “You know, looking in old graveyards and parish records.”
Chester was immensely cheered. “Where are his people from?”
“No, not
his
people … mine. Brian’s father came from a village in Russia that no longer exists.”
“Most places are still there in some form,” Chester said reprovingly.
“No, truly, the whole population of the village left for the United States. It’s my roots I’d look for. A long way back, but I’m sure there’s something.”
“So where’s that, then?” Chester was so relieved he might actually sell me a vacation that he was beaming at me.
“Ireland,” I said. “My people were Collinses from Ireland. I don’t know where.”
“Let’s go hunt,” Chester said with the enthusiasm that earned him the position of Chief Vacation Buddy of the branch. He tapped at his computer for a while and looked back at me full of smiles.
“Originally from Limerick,” he said triumphantly. “But they were driven out by the Anglo-Normans and ended up in West Cork. Which area do you want to start in?”
“Where were they in their heyday?” I asked.
“Limerick, I think. They were lords of the Barony of Conello then.”
“Oh, then let’s try Limerick.”
He was good, Chester was. He didn’t want us to spend our whole vacation stuck in a city looking up people who’d been dead for hundreds and hundreds of years. If my husband was ill, if he was difficult to please and in a bit of shock, Chester said this wasn’t the kind of restful holiday we needed. Maybe we should consider the neighboring county, County Clare. There are lovely drives around the Burren, unusual plants to see, castles to look at, porpoises and dolphins in the Atlantic, for the days that we don’t spend looking up my roots. Plus nice comfortable hotels and good food. Build my husband up it would.
At Snappy Seniors’ they wanted us to be happy; it meant repeat business. I felt guilty talking about Brian behind his back. He was such a good man who only wanted the best for everyone, but now he was like an empty shell. No matter how hard Chester and I tried, I feared nothing was going to put a smile on his face or life back into his
Similar Books
