As Richard and I sit and watch the big white flakes drop from the sky and, mercifully, melt upon contact with the ground, we discuss possible locales for a summer vacation. My first idea was a 4 or 5 day trip to Montreal and Quebec City, Canada. We could enjoy some French culture at a moderate distance. Richard truly warmed to that idea.
My second suggestion was to go to one of the traditional, east coast gay resorts like Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, Fire Island, New York or Provincetown, Massachusetts. I thought it might be fun to have a “gay” vacation, something neither of us has ever done before. Richard was at best lukewarm to the idea.
My third suggestion left Richard colder than Iceland: Saco, Montana where Gertrude Crutchfield and Frank Vagg met and married. The town is steeped in our (okay, you’re going to have to close your eyes and pretend to see this) family history. Frank is sitting on the shelf, big as life. But it seems the Saco Hilton has closed, and Richard won’t lower himself to stay at a lesser brand.
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