If you are one of those people who enjoy sitting around a log cabin in rural Wisconsin with your super-cool brother and sister and your two best friends from high school than you should have come with me. We could have canoed down the river and made s’mores and gone to a thrift store in Duluth after watching a 700-foot long cargo ship come into port, and chopped about a cord of firewood and read stories to Walker who is 3-1/2 years old and gone swimming at Okeechobee falls. We could have sat around every night in front of a fire drinking Old Grand-dad whisky and playing scrabble and discussing my brother’s various deranged girlfriends in minute detail, and during the day we could have looked for the secret compartment and tried to catch Big Johnny. We could have dreamed of publishing a book documenting the Large Fiberglass Animals of Wisconsin, or pretended that the thing in the truck was a submarine full of baffled mariners, or tried to come up with the best phrasing to put on a sign explaining to other drivers that if your cruise control is set at 72 and you are passing someone going 71-1/2 then it is perfectly okay to step on the accelerator momentarily. If you had come with us you could have become annoyed with me for constantly bringing up my new girlfriend Olga and how great she is, and you could have picked a hat-full of blackberries with my sister and her boyfriend and then helped her make a delightful pie, or you could have helped me plane down the sticking doors. But I guess you had better things to do.
|