The
Wisconsin
Citizen
by Richard Stark
Letters to
Bucky Badger
Dear
Bucky,
May
I share with you, dear friend, my fondest childhood reminiscence?
The memories
will forever remain.
When the stress of living in the present and facing the future invites
an escape to the past, there is respite.
Or a scent, caught randomly, carries one back in time to a week of summer childhood, spent idyllically with an aunt and uncle at a cottage on a lake.
This happened
each year, for myself and my brothers, and was a week to look forward
to, talk about, make plans for, and afterwards, remember.
It would begin
with a long northward drive, and the feverish greetings of two frantic
Chihuahuas. Following was a time of blissful relaxation and
contentment.
Not that, as
young boys, we had much from which to escape.
Life did not
weigh upon us, and our responsibilities were equally limited.
But it was
important to us that we were not at home, and therefore did not have
to weed in the garden, pick vegetables, shuck peas or corn, get up
early, or run a paper route. We did not, in fact, have to do anything.
Oh, there was
some lawn mowing and grass trimming around the cottage and lakefront,
but this was more a token effort toward appreciation than anything
else.
Mostly, there was swimming. And there was fishing. Often there
were fried fish afterwards. If not, there were jokes and banter
concerning the obvious pseudo-expertise of the fishermen.
There was
sunshine, and there was lying in the sun, running, splashing, playing,
laughing in the sun.
There was rain, and there was watching television, eating candy, drinking soda.
There were cool nights, lighting of the oil heater, and bedtime
snacks. Snuggling then under thick quilts we would sleep soundly, to
awaken the next morning to another day of enjoyment.
There was freedom, and there was happiness.
And lastly,
there was an end.
A sad, sometimes
tearful, always reluctant moment turned present into past, activity
into memory.
Bucky, my friend, Thoreau was right. Heaven is under our feet
as well as above our heads.
***
This reminiscence is
lovingly dedicated to
the late Aunt Margaret
and Uncle August
Hackl,
of Appleton, Wisconsin.
God
bless you both.
***
Editor's note:
Richard Stark is
a
Wisconsin
native, ten-year
Navy
veteran, and former legislative intern in the office of
Dale Schultz.
He lives with his family in northern
Virginia
near
Washington,
D.C.
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