Over the Bridge

"A Stop at Willoughby"

There is an old episode from the 1960 television series The Twilight Zone called “A Stop at Willoughby.” The storyline revolves around a stressed-out ad executive named Gart Williams who is close to the breaking point. The pressures of his job, the business world, and the world itself are all getting to be more than he can handle.  

On his long commute home on the train ride from the city, he falls asleep and has a dream about a peaceful place called Willoughby. Moments later, he is awakened by a conductor's voice declaring "Willoughby! The next stop is Willoughby!" The train stops and as Gart peers out the door, the conductor tells him that in Willoughby, "A man can slow down to a walk and live his life in full measure."

Cape Cod is my version of Willoughby. Gart has never heard of this place called Willoughby. As the train pulls to a halt, he steps off and finds himself in a quaint, peaceful nineteenth century town. The pace is slow and pleasant and the friendly people know him by name. He smiles in wonder...this is the kind of place he has always dreamed of. He is in awe that such a way of life exists, so vastly different from the world he knows. He feels he has found his home.

But then reality sets in as he is awakened by the real conductor's voice, and Gart finds himself back in his harsh and unfriendly world. It seems that "Willoughby" was just a dream. The episode ends tragically, when Gart jumps off the train in a sleepwalking state. He thought he was getting off at Willoughby. In the show’s summary, host Rod Serling observes: “Willoughby? Maybe it's wishful thinking nestled in a hidden part of a man's mind…Whatever it is, it comes with sunlight and serenity.”

I find myself relating to this story on many fronts, primarily because I too was looking for the kind of place we all long for, maybe if only in our minds, where, as the Conductor says, "a man can slow down and live his life full measure."  Cape Cod is my version of Willoughby.

I too was that guy on the commuter train, caught up in the day-to-day rat race of the corporate world.  My solace came when I finally came to own a cottage on the Cape. As bad as life sometimes can get, knowing I am only an hour away from my version of Willoughby makes it bearable. 

The peace of arriving on the Cape, opening the door and taking in the musty smell unique to a Cape Cod cottage is a constant source of invigoration. I hasten to lose my shoes and socks, opting for the feel of warm sand under my bare feet.

Life seems easier once I cross over the Sagamore Bridge.  I feel my shoulders begin to relax. The frenetic pace of my life seems to shift down a few gears. I also notice I am more in tune with myself, my family, and my environment—like enjoying the peace of an early morning outdoor shower with the seagulls in the background making their presence known and all the while knowing the ocean is a few minutes away. 

My version of Willoughby means living without the pressures of having to do something, or be somewhere governed by the clock.  My biggest decisions tend to be of a simple nature. What beach should we go to? Hot dogs or hamburgers? Who will pitch the wiffle ball game? Where should we go see the fireworks? Which Cape Cod baseball team should we root for?

And while the glorious window of summertime is a short one, the change over to the fall is equally relished. When most of the summer population has packed up and left for the season, I experience another type of slow down. It still amazes me that I can visit a Cape Cod beach on a beautiful fall day and be its only visitor. As I walk along the beach, I selfishly take in the surroundings of the shore all for myself.

Often I bring my two dogs along to share the beach. They too, for a short period of time, experience their own version of Willoughby, running free and unencumbered by the leashes and restrictions of their everyday existence. 

Is my version of Willoughby just a dream, a case of wishful thinking?  I expect year round Cape Codders would say that it is. The Cape is where they face their own set of pressures and problems every day, with no means of escape. But for me, once I cross the bridge, it’s as if a heavy weight has been lifted from me and my version of Willoughby becomes a reality.

I sense that my version of Willoughby is a case of wishful thinking for the thousands of people from all across the country who vacation on the Cape for a week or two in the summertime. They spend the better part of the year looking for a place to slow down and live their lives in full measure. For them, the realization of serenity is packed into one or two weeks out of fifty-two.

Some critics say that the Cape had changed over time and that it is not the “Old Cape Cod” of yesteryear, a la Patti Page. Others say it is not what it used to be, too touristy, overdeveloped, and commercialized.  But I kind of like the touristy stuff, especially because I have younger children. Otherwise, whatever would a parent do with their children on a rainy summer Saturday on the Cape?

It’s true that things have changed, some call it progress. At least to me, though, the Cape retains the charm it has always been known for. Some say all the changes detract from the essence of the Cape, I say they add to it.

And I believe the majority of the Cape has retained the essence of it past. If you don’t share this opinion, just drive along Route 6A in the springtime. Looking at the daffodils in bloom against the background of an old Cape house cannot help but capture that sense of yesteryear. Or, explore the outer Cape, where in some places it almost feels primitive.

I consider myself very fortunate to have time on Cape Cod. An added bonus is that it is my version of Willoughby, it fulfills my voids and it works for me.  So if you haven’t found your version of Willoughby yet, I might make a suggestion. Try crossing the Sagamore  Bridge. It’s a good place to start. And no more rotary? Can life get any better?