‎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?

Friday, January 09, 2009

Prepare yourself for photo overload

Here is a nifty image with cutsie tags on things so you know what I am talking about. Soup kitchen is slang for our chow hall, it is a half-round tent. We are officially "Bravo Company" but we are really Bad Company, the HQ is called a "CP". Hesco Baskets are big metal baskets with burlap lining that are filled with gravel. The mighty Hemmit and its eight wheel drive attitude are what delivers fuel to our aircraft. The MRAP is only useful as a way for officers to say they are taking measures to protect us. The Pathfinders drive to the PX in them, we use an econoline. I don't know why all the CHUs in this photo are painted yellow. They are the only ones like that, all the others are white.



You could forgive a guy for forgetting which CHU was his.


A CHU farm. They almost look ripe for pickin'.

This is an ammo bunker called a magazine. It was hit by a JDAM(bomb) in the first gulf war. This is pretty common to see around here. In fact, there are huge complexes in the middle of nowhere with dozens or hundreds of these types of magazines, all empty now of course.

Friendly neighborhood sheep just grazing away outside the fence here.

This is an irrigated crop circle next to the oil pipeline. One end of that starts at the refinery to the north and the other end is at the coast.

Trash ends up in the burn pit. That smoke trails on for miles. It smells really gross but it makes for a great wind-sock.

This is a pretty typical setting here; lots of stuff going on and whatnot. Those hangars are hardened with several feet thick concrete shells and blast doors that weigh twenty tons each. The hinges are like tree trunks but one person can swing the doors open or closed. Every now and then, the hinge makes a twenty ton noise and all the Blue Whales nearby think we are flirting with them. What, you didn't know we had Blue Whales?

Making it all look pretty. You go Adam.

This is my friend Adam having a staring contest with his gun.


The happy sunset photo.

2 comments:

thedad said...

The CHU farm looks like Eden Prairie.

Unknown said...

Loving the photos! Nice new lens; where did you find it? Also I like being able to see the mundane details, it really explains better what your life is like over there. I think it helps us get a better picture.

Also, I think Eden Prairie is a very exciting-looking place. :)