By ERNIE NEUFELD, Weyburn Review Associate Publisher
There was an engaging freshness and purity about the pretty
young girl who waited on us in the diner-cum-bar to which we had
repaired in mid-afternoon for a break from fighting the abundance
of one-way streets, with every second intersection (it seemed)
equipped with traffic lights accommodating every possible turn
that might be desired.
It was the beginning of rush hour, and while the population of
the city of Manchester, New Hampshire, is listed as just over
100,000 (half the size of Regina or Saskatoon), heavy traffic
suggests a suburban or commuter population that swells the downtown.
And the day was hot and humid.
It was before the restaurant's evening rush, and the young lady
seemed open to conversation. She was not long in discovering we
were Canadian, and we soon learned her name was Allison. It also
came out we were looking for something interesting to do the next
day, and that this really did not include visiting more wonders
of the little city we were in.
She lost little time enthusiastically recommending her home town
of Meredith, where she had grown up, and still enjoyed returning
to and visiting her family.
Relying on a home-town loyalty may be risky, but Allison described
it so vividly and lovingly, we soon decided to devote most of
the next day to see the wonder that was Meredith.
On vacation schedule, one does not rise at the crack of dawn
for a trip of a few hours up-country for an uncertain reward.
It also takes time to work through the host city's heavy traffic
to connect with the interstate highways that would take us to
our destination. Naturally, there was a coffee stop and a final
route-check. (I have been known to get lost on the simplest routes.)
Our first look at the community was not overly encouraging, but
as the entrance highway is strung along the banks of a lake, it
takes a little drive to arrive at the town's hub, boasting all
the facilities and enticements of an American resort town. It
was a lovely community, with a tour-book-listed population of
less than 2,000, but the vacation influx must triple or quadruple
that number and the variety of license plates suggested many day
visitors.
We had little trouble finding a shady parking spot, and after
an obligatory stop at an antique shop or two to please a family
element, it was time to find a place for lunch.
The Common Man was recommended, and we discovered it to be an
large, attractive eatery, with ample shaded seating right near
an inlet of Lake Winnipesaukee, the largest body of water in the
state. We enjoyed our light, tasty and reasonably priced luncheon
while watching the boats dock nearby as they delivered the presumably
affluent to share our luxury.
Heading back "home" after looking around a bit more,
we were further rewarded when I missed my exit to the highway,
was redirected by a truck driver, but fortunately along another
and much more scenic route that took us past and across several
small lakes and inlets.
A lesson learned once more: that a wrong turn is not always disastrous
and may prove more interesting than the original choice. We went
home mentally thanking Allison for the home-town loyalty that
inspired her urgent recommendation that we visit the beautiful
little city of Meredith. We would revisit it any time.
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