Really Sarge? More Water?

(Source)

So, up most of the night manning the pumps, managed to snag three or four hours of sleep as frankly I just couldn't stay awake any longer. But the water seeping into the basement has slowed and will soon stop completely. A sunny and windy day on Saturday dried the ground nicely.

But in the midst of this watery adventure, I had some pleasant memories which also involved water. Family vacations when I was a kid always involved water, well except for the one time Mom and Dad thought a week in a mountain cabin would be nice. Well, it was okay, except that I was in a tent. (Not enough room in the inn I guess, not that I'm comparing myself to our Savior but growing up I did think that the Lord and I shared a name. Except that apparently my middle initial was "H.")

Dad knew guys at work who had cabins on a couple of lakes, one in Vermont and one in New Hampshire. The one depicted in the opening photo was a favorite of mine, Lake Contoocook. For a reasonable fee we could spend a week there when the guy at work wasn't using it. He also had two boats which we were free to use. Sweet.

Contoocook isn't a very big lake but I remember the water being crystal clear and just the thing for a hot summer's day. The cabin was very rustic, fairly good size as I recall because we usually had grandparents and uncles, aunts, and cousins spend a night or two. Plenty of room.

The cabin wasn't insulated, not even sure if it had heat, maybe a fireplace, but it was cozy and awesome. It was surrounded by pines and had a nice lawn running down to the lake. We spent a week there, two summers in a row.

I spent most of my time out in the power boat. Not a big one but it did have seats and a wheel to drive her. It was a sweet little boat and I wish I could remember the brand name. All wood she was.

The other boat was an aluminum row boat which my Mom liked to row around. Good exercise. One night my Dad and my Uncle Charlie took Yours Truly, The Olde Vermonter, and my cousin Joe out fishing in that row boat. We had an oil lantern and everything needed for a night out fishing.

I remember the lantern, I remember the lights of the cabins around the lake. I really remember the water lapping against the hull. I also remember that as we rowed back, it was bloody cold huddled up against that aluminum hull.

I remember the time we had just arrived at the cabin and I had made myself a bologna sandwich. Bear in mind, I liked lots of mayonnaise on my sandwiches back then (mayo is used in moderation these days). For some reason I stepped away from the kitchen and when I came back, my sandwich was gone.

Looking out towards the car, I saw my Dad. And my sandwich. Yeah, I was a little miffed, after all, I'd made the bloody thing. Then again, while I was making a sandwich, Dad was unloading the car. I suppose he needed the sandwich more than I.

But when he bit into it he almost gagged. Apparently I had put way too much mayonnaise on the sandwich. Dad was about ready to throw away the sandwich when Mom asked him...

"So where did you get the sandwich?"

"It was on the kitchen counter, I thought it was for me."

"Do your sons often make you sandwiches?"

"Um, no, not really."

Mom asked me if I had made the sandwich. I replied in the affirmative. My Dad asked me if I wanted it back...

"Honey, go inside and make yourself another sandwich. I'm going to make sure your father eats every bite of this one."

Which he did.

Funny the things one remembers from the distant past.

Dad's gone now, but I still remember the look on his face when he bit into that sandwich.

Priceless.

Now I'm off to check the pumps. Then to sleep, perchance to dream...



And try to remember to set the clocks ahead by an hour. Grrr...