Up North: Two Weeks to go

‎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?

Sunday, January 14, 2007

Two Weeks to go

Christmas morning at the edge of tent city. The first and only foggy morning we have seen all year. This was after the big rain which explains the puddles that you see. Many places around Kandahar flooded with up to a foot of water. I guess my hooch is built in the lowest place on all the airfield because it had ten inches of standing water for thirty yards all around it. Probably not good timing for the Army to have switched away from waterproof boots. I can imagine everyone neglected to explain to the people running this war that "desert" just means dry 95% of the time.

The second piece of brilliance(literally) is the floodlighting at night. All the FOBs practice what we call "light discipline" which means that we stumble around in the dark and bust our shins on stacks of cots. The dark FOBs have significantly fewer incidents of mortar and rocket attacks and of the few rocket attacks there is a significantly lower percentage of hits.

If you look very closely in this photo, you might be able to see a conspicuous lack of human beings. Even in Kandahar, there are very few lunatics who are up and working at 4:30. That is the price of running a shop round the clock. Whew, just thinking about running around anything is making me tired.

The limo that didn't take you to senior prom. When you hear conspiracy theorists talking about the fabled "black helicopters", this is what they mean. I am going to try to sell the idea of a "blackhawk" ride to Six Flags. It will go 130mph, twenty feet above the terrain. The ride will be equiped with the latest, state-of-the-art barfbag technology.

Hey dad, good luck with the new business undertaking. If things go sour you can always look into some "alternative" retirement locations. Seriously though, this is where the Canadians live. Location, location, location. These charming, bohemian villas are located within walking distance to the fabled first street eatery known as "the chow hall" to the locals and in addition these bungalos are in the best school district in town.

Admittedly I was fibbing about the school district bit. In reality the schools here suck. Metal detectors, gangs and meatloaf thursdays. But if I tell anyone about the meatloaf, I am sure to miss out on the sale. Did I mention, its a "gated" comunity?