Cynthia Stead This weekend, a lot of us will be visiting relatives. But the visits will be quiet ones. We left at six in the morning, like pioneers from the asphalt three-deckers of Worcester to the lakes and forests and hills in Maine. There was no Route 495, there wasn’t even the Eisenhower Interstate system, so the drive took all day. My brother and I were loaded into the backseat of the Country Squire station wagon, complete with metal faux-wood side panels, with our grandmother in between us to keep the peace during the seven hour drive for Memorial Day. I got to hold the geraniums.