Archive 09/25/09 - (4)

   

Eddie

                                                                  

 

Toward the end of today's late-morning walk,

Going down the steep hill, to the municipal beach,

Past the closed-for-the-season Dairy Queen, on my left,

The quiet red-log auditorium, on my right,

I'm lost in thoughts of maintaining this trance indefinitely.

 

Suddenly, a voice calls out "L.D? L.D., is that you?

Yes, yes, I recognize you, after all these years!

But I can't really believe I'm seeing you!"

It's my Camp Nebagamon cabin counselor from 1954 —

Eddie Drolson, from my summer in Axeman 5 —

 

A kind man, now approaching eighty,

Who helped set my moral compass when I was thirteen,

Glad to find me back in my old clime.

He hugs me; I return his hug, his "I love you."

We briefly reprise fifty-five-year-old memories.

 

He asks what I'm doing in this neck of the North Woods.

I reply that I've been returning, often, to the village,

To write about this land,

Hoping to get a fundamental understanding of who I am,

In relation to who I've been and who I'll be.

 

Just before I resume my walk, head up the steep hill,

We hug again, smile at each other, say good-bye.

All the way to camp's waterfront gate and back to my cabin,

Eddie walks beside me, repeating his favorite aphorism:

"Life is too short to be little."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                               

 

09/25/09 - (4)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
       

 

 
   
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