Eight minutes past four. I am a little dismayed at how scratched the face of my Timex is getting. I look up from my watch to try and figure out how long I have been awake. The arithmetic is like my brain trying to Riverdance down a flight of stairs in an MC Escher drawing. I give up on the exact number and settle on the fact that I have been awake too long to be able to subtract. Of the other 55 passengers in the cargo hold of this particular C-130, there seems to be only one other that is still awake. The loadmaster is making twisted faces at a page of sudoku puzzles. I can't sleep here even though I feel totally comfortable on this aircraft. In fact, these planes are almost like a fluffly down comforter to me. Except of course for the fact that they are designed like sewer pipes, ugly but thankfully, reliably functional. We are crammed in like tiny headless fish. There seems to be cold air blowing on me from somewhere and maybe just to balance out the cosmic yin and yang there also seems to be warm air blowing on me from some other place. I can't fathom the dynamics of this omni-directional multi-temperature climate controll system in my delirious state. I can see clearly that the warm air and the cold air have conspired and agreed to both dry out my eyeballs together with synergistic efficiency. Ugh, 70 minutes remaining until Speicher.
The lights go dark, we must have crossed some imaginary boundry and now we are flying blacked out. It is dark like a cave, the pale blue bath of light from before was enought to see other people but even the loadmaster had to use a flashlight to see his sudoku. He must have put it away because I don't see any lights. My vision adjusts and I start to make out the pairs of glow-in-the-dark 'cat eyes' on the backs of everyone's helmets. The white noise of the engines and gentle vibrations are like a drug.
I awake to the plane tilting and the sound of hydraulics underneath me. Must be the landing gear going down. We tilt and bank our way around imaginary pathways in the sky until the pilot is content with his alignment. I anticipate the touchdown but it seems to never come. And then we are on the ground. Smoother landing than I expected, no bouncing or crashing nothing sounds broken.
So that is the end of my travels for now. I am back on the ground at Speicer. My brief vacation was too brief and not enough vacation.
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?
2 comments:
Keep busy. Skype - a lot. Soren likes Skyping. Get no medals for bravery. Let us know what you want/need. Pretend the food is good. Post lots of pictures. I still think Ra should water the plants & trees. You've made it this long. Oct/Nov '09 will someday arrive. It's freakn cold here again. Don't re enlist.
Excellent advice from thedad.
It was so good to see your face although it was way too short. We miss you - already! Keep photographing your travels. What a unique view you have of the world - capture it while you can.
See you soon!
xo,m
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