New book published about my life as an innkeeper in the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania. My husband Jim and I purchased a 38 room inn in 1976. Little did we know what we were getting into, but after transforming the old resort into a fashionable country inn, we experienced so many fascinating moments, I wanted to record them for posterity. Join me as I tell all!
http://www.amazon.com/Inn-Sane-June-Bryan-Belfie/dp/1479319902/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1351031649&sr=1-1&keywords=Inn+sane
Here is the first chapter for your reading pleasure.
Be sure to order your copy today for the rest of the book. Based on fact - many names changed to protect identities.
Chapter One
First Thoughts
On the scale of one to ten - ten being the worst -
today is a nine-and-a-half.
A stomach virus has attacked three of the kids at
once. The washer and dryer have gone non-stop as I change bed sheets and night
clothes. Leo, our cat, has been missing for three days, and the dishwasher
broke down last night. I’ve been too frazzled to call a repairman, so dirty
dishes are piling up in the sink. It’s the fifth day of rain. As I dump a load
of clothing on the floor for the washer, the phone rings.
“Junie, it’s me. How are the kids doing?” Mother’s
voice registers her grandmotherly concern.
“Well, Scott and Bryan kept some chicken noodle soup
down, but Jill is still throwing up. It’s a nightmare. How are you doing?”
“I feel fine, but I’m getting cabin fever. I was
hoping to go on a shopping expedition with you to the King of Prussia Mall, but
obviously, that’s out of the question.”
“Yeah, I’m afraid we will have to wait a few days for
that.” I confess to being secretly relieved not to have to go shopping. It
takes tremendous patience to shop with my mother. We have to check every store
before purchasing any item and then, almost without fail, we return it a week
later.
After signing off, I loaded the washer again and added
detergent to my grocery list.
Scott struts into the kitchen in his Phillie’s
baseball pajamas. “Mom, if I’m feeling better, can I go to the cub scout picnic
Saturday?”
“Oh, Scott, I completely forgot. I have to make
cupcakes!” I scribbled “make cupcakes” on a paper napkin and turn back to my
son. “If you’re totally better by
Friday, yes, you may go.”
“Hooray! Mom, I’m starving. Can I have a
cheeseburger?” My nine-year-old looks at me with his big dark raw-umber eyes.
I reached over and hugged him. “Not a cheeseburger
yet, honey, but I can make you a poached egg.”
He nodded and sat at the table to wait, setting up two
dozen miniature soldiers in battle formation, while I prepare his eggs. The
shooting sounds coming out of his mouth reassure me the worst is over. While he
ate, I reached for my cupcake recipe and then remembered I’m out of sugar. Store-made
cupcakes will do just fine.
Laurie, our 15-year-old came in the back door from
school with a load of books. “I think I’m next, Mom.” Her color resembled a
dish of cold oatmeal, and she decided against her normal snack. As she passed
me, I checked her forehead. I’m pretty good at guessing temperatures and she
definitely had a fever.
I looked in on the other two children. Bryan, who is
nearly twelve, and Jill, our six-year-old were playing a game of gin rummy. No
one had thrown up for five hours.
It was reassuring to know my husband, Jim, planned to
be home early from his insurance job. We might even have a quiet dinner by
ourselves after the kids are in bed.
Around eight, I put on Vivaldi and lit candles as we
settle down for warmed-over meatloaf with some burgundy wine. Jim seemed
quieter than usual. I glanced over at him and wondered if he might be coming
down with the virus. Instinctively, I reached across the table to feel his
forehead. Nope. Cool.
He grinned at me with that ‘much too cute’ Italian
smile. “What’s that all about?”
“Just checking, but you seem normal.”
“As normal as I can ever be, you mean?”
His chuckle reassured me for the moment. Then I
proceeded to fill him in on all the gory details of my day. “But how did your
day go, honey? I’ve been so busy talking about my problems, I forgot to ask
about you.”
“Oh, typical day. Same old stuff. Jack piled more
files on my desk. I also had to get photos on City Line Avenue this morning. Big
accident claim.”
Silence. I look over waiting for more details. He
appeared pre-occupied. “I detect there’s more going on in that head of yours. Is
anything wrong?”
“I’m fine. It’s just…well, I realized today how long
I’ve been in the insurance business. It’s been eleven years and I basically do
the same thing every day. I'm really getting bored and don't find the work very
challenging.” He hesitated and looked at me with his chestnut-colored eyes for
a response.
I nod and pour myself another glass of wine. This
conversation is going somewhere, but I’m not sure where. “Go on,” I offer,
secretly hoping he won’t.
“Well, while I’m still young enough, I’d like to quit this
rat race and do something different and challenging. Actually maybe we could
find something to do together.”
I tried to sound calm, but inside I felt anything but.
“I know you aren’t happy at your job any more, but please, let’s not talk
tonight. My brain is total mush.”
“I guess my timing was poor.”
“Yeah, very.”
“I wasn’t going to bring it up tonight, but since you
asked–”
“My mistake. Let’s talk about it another time.”
“It’s just hard to deal with the monotony of the job.”
Jim put his hand on mine and smiled his sweetest smile – which doesn’t help me
a bit. “Thanks for listening, honey.”
Oh, please
don’t ‘honey’ me. I need to remain detached.
It was several days before I allowed myself to think
of what Jim was asking. Working for a large insurance company might be boring,
but it did offer health insurance, a company car, retirement benefits, and a
paycheck every two weeks. There’s a lot to be said for security. And what could
we do together and get paid for?
My talents are speedy diaper changing, canning
tomatoes, wiping runny noses, and stretching a pound of meat to feed six. What
do I know about making money? Besides, I enjoy my role as wife and mother. I
have gone through a difficult period after a divorce and raising four little
ones alone. Now after four years of marriage with Jim, many of our early
problems have been ironed out. We have a lovely 18th century
farmhouse on seven acres with a great vegetable garden. The kids have friends
and attend good schools – even the cats are happy. Yes, our stray has returned,
a little skinnier, but as ornery as ever.
After years of neglecting my art, I’ve resumed
painting. I’m taking classes with Ed Lis, a wonderful teacher, and I have even
presented a one-woman show on the Main Line. Do
I really want this change now?
I have seen Jim’s lack of enthusiasm for his job, and
inwardly, I know he needs a challenge in his life. Since that night when he
brought this whole thing up, I can barely think of anything else.
It is several evenings later - the sun has shone most
of the day, the kids aren’t throwing up any more and my dishwasher is working
again - so I brought up the subject. Somehow it doesn’t seem all that
impossible now to take a step into uncharted waters. I agreed, at least, to consider
alternatives.
Jim was delighted at the prospect of being his own
boss, and we began a daily discussion of ‘ifs’ and ‘what-ifs.’ Jim mentioned
running a day care center. I’m raising the four kids – five, every other
weekend – so his suggestion definitely does not strike me as a whole lot of
fun. Scratch that one.
We researched the idea of owning and managing a
nursing home or retirement center, but we lack start-up money and experience,
and it would require far too much of my time: raising our young children
remains my life’s prime mission.
“How about artist and promoter?” Jim questioned.
“Totally unrealistic. We’d starve in a month. What
about a fabric store?”
Jim grunted. “I can’t even walk into one.”
We considered a nursery – the green kind, but there
are too many in our area, and one recently closed. Nothing really hit us, but
it was fun to dream.
We reside in a lovely community, west of Philadelphia, called
Westtown. Jim’s whole family lives in or near the city, and we enjoy getting
together with them for holidays and Sunday dinners. My mother, who divorced
after nearly forty years of marriage, is living in an apartment a couple of
miles from us and is coping with her situation. She needs to be near us. How
would a move, if necessary, affect everyone involved? There are so many
considerations. We decide not to discuss the changes which might take place
with the other family members until we are closer to a decision. Perhaps we
wouldn’t even have to move, so life could go on pretty much as always for the
rest of our loved ones.
It’s summertime. Spring and summer are absolutely
beautiful in Chester
County, and this year is
no exception. My days are filled with gardening, providing healthful meals for
the family, painting, and relaxing on our screened-in porch, which looks out on
fields and rolling hills. Laurie helped me prepare beans from the garden for
the freezer, and we’ve canned tomatoes – tons of them. Most late afternoons,
when Jim comes home from work, he changes his clothes and spends time weeding
and trimming. The garden is work, but we all enjoy the results of fresh
lettuce, corn on the cob (if we beat the raccoons), and the many other
vegetables. Jim has purchased a real tractor for cutting the fields. We enjoy
playing ‘homesteaders.’
Our stone l8th century home is my dream-house come
true. It has so much character with its four fireplaces, deep sills, and
six-paneled doors. Our family room is on the lowest of four levels. It had been
a summer kitchen and contains a large walk-in fireplace, still sporting its
original crane for hanging the old iron pots. It’s always cool down there and
during the heat of a three-digit summer day, we spend most of the afternoon
there – the kids playing or reading – while I catch up with the mending or
ironing.
We have six gnarly old apple trees left from the
eighteenth century orchard growing behind the house. One of those apple trees
produces apples so large, that once I baked an eight-inch apple pie from one
apple! It made incredibly good apple sauce.
My clotheslines are strung between two of the trees
and I enjoy hanging the clothes in the fresh air. It has become my thing. It is
my “alone time – my thinking time.” I work on being organized – hanging pairs
of socks in order of size and arranging the towels by color – that sort of thing.
It prolongs the process, which is part of the reason I do it. It is my commune
with nature. It has nothing to do with saving money on the dryer. It’s just
something I enjoy doing. Would I have to give this up, too?
Jim and I have finally completed turning the top floor
attic into three bedrooms and a full bathroom for the children. We worked every
weekend through the winter doing the carpentry. We did hire professionals to do
the electrical and the plumbing, but the rest we tackled ourselves. Neither of
us had experience in carpentry, so I read aloud from a book about home
construction when we arrived at situations beyond our capability. In an old
home like ours, each stud had to be cut to fit, since nothing was level. We
wanted to preserve the house’s natural beauty, so we worked around existing
windows and alcoves, instead of replacing them. Nothing was plumb.
Now with this house project completed, we all enjoy
more privacy. Jim and I use the whole second floor for our bedroom, office,
sewing and art area. Bryan and Scott share a room, as they always have, on the
third floor. It works out most of the time even though their personalities
occasionally conflict. The girls, Laurie and Jill, each have their own room. Jim
has a daughter by a previous marriage and when Christina visits, she stays with
Jill. They are only three months apart in age and are very close. Christina has
fair complexion and dark brown hair and eyes, while Jill has reddish brown
hair. They are about the same size and frame. As soon as Christina arrives on
the week-ends, the two run off with their Barbie dolls or coloring books and
entertain each other. Having two brothers, they also like climbing trees and
playing hide-and-seek in the fields and woods surrounding the house.
The boys play baseball every afternoon, weather
permitting. Home base is situated under a large willow tree and the grass is
non-existent; just one of the consequences of raising healthy children.
So now, since we are all settled into our home, the
children have scads of friends and I enjoy my life tremendously, it makes the
discussion of a move even more difficult.
In spite of all this, Jim is growing more restless all
the time. Loving a challenge, I admit I am excited about the possibility of
working together at something new. We are still sort of newlyweds, and I love
having him home. It surprises me I would even consider a major life change, but
I am only in my thirties and nothing seems impossible at this tender age.
We continue to talk and
dream. We’re considering many alternatives, but nothing strikes us as very
exciting or challenging. So we keep our thoughts on our mental back burners and
continue to live our lives normally – almost.
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