Well, I finally made it here. It took four days and five planes but I am here and things are ok. We stopped in some wierd places that I definately coudn't point to on a map.
There is a lot of confusion with the leadership during the change of authority so things are pretty hectic. The place here isn't so bad. We are in a giant tent just like at JRTC (ft polk). My bags got separated from me and I haven't recovered all of them yet. My sleep schedule is very, how to say, interupted this past week. I don't have a lot of time to write today but I will write again soon. This whole country smells like shit. The food is terrible. Americans are almost a minority with all of the other coalition forces here. It is definately an experience. I have to run for now but know that I am here and alright, just as soon as I get a nap.
63 Years of Memories....
63 Years of Memories....
that's what I have now. The photo below shows the chair on the point which for so many years was my father's favorite after-supper place to contemplate and cast for walleye. As much as I feel guilty about what's happened, I know he would understand and even say there's nothing to forgive. He lived life fully and moved on many times. I'm the one with the unique experience of being attached to a beautiful place for my whole life. And despite all my best efforts, yesterday the 'cabin' was sold. I signed the papers and, truth be told, a weight was lifted. A new life lies ahead without the obligations, but with all of the wonderful memories. My unrelentingly positive attitude says this is truly how it is, but my heart is still sad.
There are some things in life for which the balance between the obligation and the joy of ownership often cannot be sustained forever. It became clear that I was no longer up to the task of taking care of the place quite a while back. However, knowing what needs to be done and doing it are often far apart. Finally, no choice was left. It had to be sold.
Now it's gone. No more worrying about how long the grass or how deep the snow is up there. No more sublimely pleasurable early morning cups of coffee sitting on the dock when the color of the lake is like pale blue glass and the air is completely still. No more endless repairs, high taxes, and utility bills. No more late nights around the fire pit with friends and family - warm from both fire and friendship. No more frozen pipes or emergency calls to the furnace guys. No more saunas and midnight skinny dipping that make you feel like you'll live forever while your connection with nature is confirmed by the gazillion stars of the milky way and the loons calling out in the dark. No more concerns with low well water levels or water so hard and full of iron the clothes turn yellow and your newly washed hair feels like brillo. No more finding the way home by boat in the dark after a long day on the lake feeling like this is the only place you really, really belong. No more praying that the boathouse will make it another year without collapsing. And ultimately, no more making new memories with friends, family and loved ones. No new memories, that is, at Half Bay, Lake Vermilion, Tower, MN. New life... here we come!
How do you thank a place for memories?
1 comment:
Bert, I am so glad you made it and have begun the solider’s experience. Todd commented that your assessment of the place smelling like shit was totally correct and went on to explain the whole thing about people using their left hand to wipe with. I find it difficult to believe that in the year 2006 there are people that use their left hand as toilet paper instead of some foliage, but again Todd corrected me and reading your description of the landscape there seems to be no foliage to be found. On a different less odorous note, Dad you are the last person I thought would be giving spelling lessons, o mighty king of “how do you spell _____?” -Luv T
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