established in 1962
Our parents took the plunge in their mid-twenties.
Without an engagement ring on her finger, Mom cast aside her flip-flops, rolled the cuffs of her jeans, and stepped with Dad out of a young New England forest into the warm waters of Ossipee.
The engineer and the artist saw different things at the tip of Cassie Cove.
The incline was good, he thought. Instead of the sharp drop off and rocky beaches nearby, the land merged with the water gradually here, a moderate angle of fine, soft sands.
It offered the best view, she thought. The opposite end opened up like a stage with exits to the left and right and a backdrop of round peaks and big sky.
The marshy grasses in the water and the rustles in the woods did not worry them; they would diminish with time and traffic. It was why they were here to begin with, because it was wild and away from it all.
Dad marked off one hundred feet with two long stakes given to him by Walter G. White, the man who bought the entire shoreline from the water company.
It was all they could afford, but it was a commitment, certainly more than any ring could ever be.
