Day 7 -- Providence, to Essex, CT

Over breakfast, we got to chatting about Natalie’s upcoming tour of the Rhode Island School of Design. I told Natalie that she should get a t-shirt. This, of course, prompted Keith to wonder what the school’s colors are.

“ALL of the colors,” I said. “It’s an art school. … Anyway, it’s not like they have sports teams.”

This then inspired us to muse about the name of a RISD athletic team, if it existed. Clare suggested the RISD Fighting Paintbrushes. I thought they should be something ironic, like the RISD Warring Gladiators. 

At some point, Keith turned to Google to discover that RISD DOES, in fact, have a hockey team AND a basketball team —  named the Nads and the Balls, respectively. 

And I can’t make this up: Their mascot is called “Scrotie.”

Photo provided by the internet.

I watched Natalie’s expression suddenly shift from apprehension to awe. She has a healthy respect for a twisted, cheeky sense of humor. These could be her people.

From what we’ve seen so far, Providence has a really cool vibe. It’s fun, funky and definitely progressive — there are Pride flags flying from just about every light pole — and at the same time it’s sophisticated and sensible. It has a college-town vibe, but, as the Rhode Island capital and a city of 200,000, there’s a lot more going on, too. It reminds me of St. Paul: intimate, but not stifling. (Good to know: The top employer in Providence is Brown University. There are more coffee/doughnut shops per capita in Providence than in any other U.S. city. And Providence has one of the most active gay and lesbian communities in New England.) Once nicknamed “The Beehive of Industry,” Providence recently began rebranding itself at the “Creative Capital,” a nod to its educational resources (there are seven institutions of higher education here) and vibrant arts community. 

We spent the morning at the RISD Museum of Art, which winds up through six floors of several interconnected buildings and features an impressive collection of ancient art, Asian art, decorative arts, and painting and sculpture. 

Charles and Ray Eames molded plywood into leg splints that were used to treat soldiers during WWII. These were the inspiration for the famous Eames plywood chairs that followed. 

From there, Keith and Natalie took off for the RISD admissions office, where they joined about 20 other prospective students and their parents on a 1 p.m. tour. The meeting started with a one-hour talk by an admissions officer, and then broke up into smaller groups for tours of the campus.

Part of the RISD campus

Meanwhile, Charlie, Clare and I found a laundromat, and we knocked out four loads of laundry and used the WIFI to upload to the blog. I fretted about Natalie and about her college anxiety and wondered if maybe my Midwest girl should chose a school that’s closer to home. 

Clare was fascinated with the hinged folding board that a staff member had left out, and used it to fold all of the laundry, including the freshly washed Bubba.

But of course, when we met up with them after the tour, both Keith and Natalie were positively aglow, buzzing about how amazing RISD is and how wonderful it would be if Natalie could get in. Natalie says she's thrilled to have a goal as she enters her junior year — a light at the end of the tunnel of high school tedium and a future that she couldn’t imagine before today. This was exactly the outcome I was hoping for, and I was quietly pleased.

Keith’s is most impressed by the career placement opportunities for RISD grads, as well as the world-class resources available to students, and the administration’s focus on positive student life experiences. Another plus: A third of the curriculum is liberal arts. (Fun fact: The two guys who started Airbnb are RISD alum.)

Natalie was thrilled to find out that studio classes can last eight hours at a time, and that she will not be required to take math. She was also excited to learn that she can take classes at Brown (the two schools have adjacent campuses). She feels comfortable in a city this size — big enough to have a thriving cultural scene, but not so big that it swallows her up. The campus, she says, feels intimate. Tight-knit.

Of course, there will be other school tours, and other choices that present themselves over the next 18 months. And for various reasons, RISD likely will be edged out by others. But for now I’m overjoyed that Natalie is open to this possibility and is starting to get excited about life after high school.

In the afternoon, we drove from Providence to Mystic, CT, so that we could eat dinner at Mystic PIzza. Remember? Anyone? The 1988 movie starring Julia Roberts about three young women who find love and laughter working together in a pizza joint in a small New England fishing village? Walking into the restaurant was like stepping into a TGIFriday’s in the mid-‘80s: lots of framed Hollywood head shots and movie memorabilia, and the “Mystic Pizza” movie playing on a continual loop. For the last 30 years, that restaurant has been milking that movie as much as it can.

But it turns out that we all have been hoodwinked. While the movie was filmed in and around Mystic, the pizza parlor interior shots were actually filmed on a soundstage nearby. After the movie’s release, the real-life pizzeria was renovated to look like it did in the film. Bah. What's the thrill in visiting a place that only looks like a movie location?

The traffic in Mystic was exactly what I pictured for 5 p.m. on the Friday before the Fourth of July: bumper to bumper, and don’t you dare try to make a left turn, because it’s not gonna happen.

We ended up tonight about 30 miles west of Mystic, in Essex, CT. We're staying at the Griswold Inn, “the oldest continually operating tavern in the United States.” It opened in 1776, and it has been open ever since. 

I've booked the Family Cottage, a little house that's actually across the street from the tavern, with a living room downstairs and a sleeping loft upstairs. Like almost all the buildings in this town, it was built in the late 18th century. The interior, of course, has had many updates through the generations, but it’s badly overdue for another remodel. This place has been untouched longer than the Mystic Pizza parlor. With dark wood paneling, brass lamps, colonial blue drapes, dusty plastic blinds, motel carpeting, and a weird little wet bar in the corner, it’s like 1975 vomited all over the inside.

After we checked in, we strolled up and down the main street and found this town to be eerily quiet for 7:30 p.m. on the Friday before the Fourth of July. It’s all decked out for the holiday — the tidy Federal-style houses that line the street are draped in patriotic bunting. But all the shops  — mostly offering gifts and antiques — are closed. It's not a beach town; Essex is actually set about 4 miles up the coast on the Connecticut River, so I guess it doesn't draw the independence Day party crowd.

In fact, I’m getting a weird feeling that this sleepy town is popular with the 75-and-older set, and not really anyone else. Besides gift boutiques and antique shops, there's a Talbot's store up the street, and the few people we see strolling the sidewalks are wearing cotton sweaters over button-down shirts and pressed Dockers. It’s as if the town is populated solely by members of Central Presbyterian Church. 

The tavern seems to be the epicenter of activity here. There’s a restaurant and a wine bar, so Keith and I sent the kids back to the cottage while we each enjoyed a flight of wine.

I didn’t really plan anything for tomorrow. I figured we’d find plenty to do one we got here. But I think I was wrong. My guide book says Connecticut is great for "driving in the countryside" and "antiquing." And the big attraction in Essex is a trip up the river on a stream train, and a ride back to town on a paddleboat. Um, no, no and no.

Our Family Cottage at the Griswold Inn is already starting to get to me. I like to comb the internet for photos of the rooms I’ve reserved and — now that I think about it — I remember that I couldn't find any pictures online of the inside of the Family Cottage. And now I’m thinking maybe there’s a reason for that. Maybe the people who’ve stayed here never really left. Maybe they were possessed by the Griswold ghost that lives in the dark, wood-paneled walls before they ever had a chance to post reviews of their experience to Yelp or TripAdvisor. Maybe the musty smell that permeates the air is actually the odor of the rotting souls of guests who have gone before us. Maybe we’re next.

Yeah, this town is creepy like that.