My grandparents started going to Atlantic Beach in the 1920s. At the time there were no bridges or stores on the island so they had to bring all their food or go to the Curbside Market in Morehead City. As a very small child that could probably barely walk I remember going to the John Yancey Motel or the Atlantis and what I remember most was watching the raccoons raid the trash cans at night. We thought that was great entertainment.
A couple of years later my grandparents started building a house. My grandmother had badgered a landowner to sell her a small plot of land to build a house on. I barely remember walking around on planks while it was being built. My mother filled in some of the details about the construction later. Apparently the man that started the house was able to locate all sorts of exotic and interesting wood, but he wasn't very good about finishing things. I think my grandmother eventually got somebody else to finish it. But to this day, even though it's faded, you can still faintly smell the juniper in the hallway walls.
It's been the one permanent thing in my family for almost my entire life and we were grateful that our mother was able to pass it to us. It's something that could not be duplicated no matter how much money you had to spend on a house.