Childhood adventures at Cave Hill

Last week, while having lunch with some co-workers, one of them mentioned Gillette's Castle. When I heard him say he had taken his family there and how it had been restored, I laughed out loud and told everyone sitting at my table that I had been there so much as a child, I could give tours. From there the conversation lead to my remembering the wonderful summers I spent with my mother and father at Cave Hill Camp.

My husband and I were having Sunday dinner with my parents and I told them about my lunchtime conversation, and the three of us were off and running! If my memory serves me correctly, we began our yearly excursions to Moodus in 1964. I was four years old. From the stories my mother told me, she wrote away to the tourist department in Hartford and she was sent some information, one brochure being from Cave Hill. So began our eight year trek to Moodus. Now, we were only from Fairfield county, but when you are four, Moodus could have been the other side of the world. I don't remember too much about the first few years, only that it was fun. As I got older though, my memories of those trips are more vivid.
As we drove in our car, the first sign where my excite began to build was crossing the bridge in Middletown. I knew at that point we were close. I had memorized landmarks and billboards to aid in my mapping our way to Moodus. I knew we were there, when I would see the Pegasus sign from the Mobil Gas station in all its red and white glory. Cave Hill was right across the street!

Cave Hill for me was waiting for friends I had made that would vacation the same week we would. I had made one really good friend, Michelle. For years we wrote letters back and forth in between our trips to Moodus. But, as so often happens, as we got older and the trips to Moodus ended, we lost touch.

I remember coming into the dining hall on the Saturday we arrived and looking for our name written on the table in chalk. That was our spot for the week. I remember being summoned to the dining hall for meals or to assemble for excursions to local attractions with that bell. But, the bell that brought joy during the week, also made me sad, as it was sounded as we left Cave Hill not to return for another year. I never realized that summer day in 1972, it would be the last time I would hear its tone.

We did so many things. They would have a get together in the Rec Hall and there were be a talent show, with the little kids being some sort of frogs jumping into a pond. Hey, it was a long time ago! I know my mother has pages in a photo album somewhere of me year after year as a frog! The rec hall was cool. It had a squeaky door, a ten-cent juke box, and two ten-cent pinball machines. Just recently, I played pinball and I had to shell out fifty cents! My, how times have changed. There was the pool, the lake with its peddle boats and there were always trips to somewhere to see something. They would announce those trips during breakfast and everyone was brought to attention when they would ring a cowbell. I also remember the day trips; especially to the Perfume Factory. For the life of me, I can't remember the name of the place, but I can tell you what it looked like, inside and out!

Cave Hill had great food and plenty of it and they made the best iced tea. One night during the week, they would have a big barbeque. Cave Hill may not have been the fanciest, but I wouldn't trade the times we spent there for all the white linen napkins in the world! My parents talked about the family that owned Cave Hill and how nice they all were. We wondered at dinner yesterday how they all were.

Call me crazy or overly sentimental, but I am glad for my family and for the summers we spent at Cave Hill.

If anyone from Cave Hill reads this, my name is Vicki Curiale Beermuender. I am the daughter of Joe and Pat. I hate to sound cliche, but thanks for the memories!!!