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08/15/09 - (2)
"Old Boys"
I had so hoped that this sojourn in Lake Nebagamon Would coincide with the last few days of the second-four-weekers And I'd be able, during walks around my former haunts, To catch glimpses of the boys at final projects, Who'd remind me of those glorious summers of my coming of age.
But to my disappointment, They'd already departed; family camp had begun, The cabins filled with spouses and children primed for fun, "Old boys" eager to recreate that magical time When everything was larger than life, not diminished by hindsight.
On my energized, five-mile, hour-and-a-half walk, I passed in and out of my stomping grounds twice, Witnessed, from a distance, the adults gathered for happy hour, Cordially conversing, fondly reminiscing, laughing. I thought I might have recognized a few of them.
Then I slipped away, over a secluded, shadowy path, Back into my spirited clip, beyond the gate, toward town, Glad for not having had to engage in small talk about the past — My most private shrine, Where only my soul and the "old boy" in me come to worship.
08/15/09 - (2)
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