Yesterday, I awoke to the challenge of writing about an island and the inspiration came from Maine. I kept thinking about the joy of visiting my Aunt Rena on the St. Lawrence River, and all the joy that came from fishing, sometimes swimming, and basically relaxing in such a beautiful place on Earth (one of America's best kept secrets). I am still trying to guess how my father could back a little fishing boat down the long driveway to that camp. I am sure I would have destroyed the car, the trailer, and the boat.
Still, it was the childhood I knew and I loved. I didn't put in the dirty cartoon books that also were at the camp, the ones that sat between magazines on either side of the couch. I think I memorized the jokes of those raunchy books, because they were hilarious (and educational).
But it was/is the view for me. The joy of seeing the ships come in from the Atlantic to the Great Lakes. The slow pace of their movement and the knowing that Canada was just over yonder (sometimes we'd get a TV station spoke in French on the antennae). What a blessing to have in my memories, especially when coupled to the memories my parents also had when they were much younger.
No comments:
Post a Comment