The pump house at the boat launch contained many items including:
gas cans mixed with oil
two stroke oil. one jug per fill up
paddles for the canoes
life jackets
oars
bailers
marine batteries and chargers
water skis
rope
a map of the lake
Most importantly, it contained my granddad’s old green Johnson 9.9 outboard motor. It was ancient. It was from the sixties. At the age of eight I had fantasies of having that beauty perched on the back of a small aluminum boat - a Springbok most likely.
From shore, I would imagine what my teenage years would look like: Me, on the lake in a springbok aluminium boat powered by that beautiful, industrial green Johnson outboard.
My left hand on the tiller, my right hand on my knee, I’d have it going wide open. The hull bouncing loudly in the chop would sound an alarm to all on shore. There’d be no alarm, just teen age me.
As an eight year old, teen aged me in a boat was the peak of human experience. My hair flowing in the breeze, mirrored shades would hide my eyes. I’d be shirtless, smirking and smoking a menthol - just like my dad!
The pump house is still there.
The lifejackets have been updated. The ‘new paddles’ are ready for the fire pit. The waterski? It hangs in the ceiling, a relic from the seventies and a reminder that my uncles were young men once.
The motor?
Well, the motor is gone.
I may have been the last one to use it.
But that’s a story for another day.
Perhaps tomorrow.
Until then, when you were eight, what did you imagine being a teen would be like? What did you imagine adulthood to look like?
What is something that was delightful when you were eight that you’d find delightful today that you had outgrown for a while?
I overestimated the opportunities for high heels and underestimated the amount of cleaning and cooking.
I didn't realize the comfort of a tea alone. It is now the highlight of a day. Along with hugs. Hugs are golden. Then, leave me alone with my tea.
Hello