The big red barn was next to the small red barn where my Uncle (actually my dad's cousin) would park his old red Ford truck. The big red barn no longer housed horses but treasures of the past. An old horse drawn carriage. Paintings that made it across the Atlantic from Paris but didn't quite make it into the main house. An old English saddle my Aunt had brought back from South Africa after living in Johannesburg for many years. I could still smell the Saddle Soap on it. I imagined riding a stately Thoroughbred across the fields of the estate in Quogue.
The backyard of the main house was where the croquet tournaments were held. "Tournaments" a term used loosely. Wickets were set up arbitrarily in the late afternoon and the game would usually start shortly after dinner. Drinks on the patio, stories of travel to far off places, political debates (sometimes heated) and my Uncle with a cigar in his mouth and a mallet in his hand making his way around the croquet course (usually referred to has a "court") that was set up. There was often a shot where you had to maneuver around a tree or a tree stump, often while being heckled form onlookers sitting on the veranda. I would imagine it was quite fun for the adults, especially after they'd had a drink or two.
The vegetable garden was set on about a half an acre and aside from the wild raspberries that grew around the parameter it was painstakingly planted every spring by the gardener who had become family. In one corner there was an old claw-foot bathtub for washing veggies.
"They paved paradise
And put up a parking lot
With a pink hotel, a boutique and a swinging hot spot"
-Joni Mitchell
One of my best friends lives in Southampton a few towns over from Quogue. Quogue has a sleepy village main street where I used to ride my bike in the summers. Quogue (knock on wood) has retained much of it's quiet charm. East Quogue is home to several beach bars etc.
"The Hamptons" always had a air of exclusivity. Even back in the 40's and 50's when our parents were young and our grandparents would summer there it had that reputation. There have been families there for generations, families who passed these homes and cottages down through the generations to keep these homes, the property in their family.
So now there are some monstrosities of architecture out there now. Castles built by new money, flashy wealth. People who would rather die then have a red Ford pick-up in their garage. There are people coming out from all over calling the Hamptons their own, if only to rent a share for the summer with 15 other people. This is a place for everybody, as long as everybody treats it with respect and doesn't "dumb it down" as it was been done so often in the past 10 years or so.
There is something to be said for a town that has a charming main street. For me, it makes it feel more like home - especially when you can walk into a shop and they know your name! Sag Harbor is a town where my best friend spent summers before she got married and moved to Southampton. Sag Harbor is the most charming town I have ever seen. There has been a push there to save the town from chain stores moving in, especially on their lovely main street. Many of the shops that are there now have been handed down from generations before. I can't picture a chain store in the village of Quogue (nor do I want to!). As a child I remember asking my Uncle if there was any sort of fast-food restaurant in Quogue. He would proudly respond with a resounding "NO!".
These towns and enclaves need to be looked after by those who love them. Convenience is nice but charm is nicer.
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