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sitting on the dock Symposium Summer vacation
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sitting on the dock Symposium Summer vacation My family would rent a cabin on a small lake in Bridgeton Maine for two weeks every summer. Dad could fish the lake every day, we could run around half nekkid, eat blueberries straight from the bushes, swing in a stinky old canvas hammock under the sun as it filtered through the treetops, swim, eat outside, kiss the moose head on its nose before we went to bed. It was heaven. We pumped drinking water from a big old steel thingy on the road that served three places, carried it back to the cabin in a big tin jug. I remember letting the first flush it the ground to clear the pipe, the second pump we let run straight over one of our heads, so cold it took your breath from you. When we were little, it took two of us to carry the water back. It was our job to provide it. It was important, serious.  Sometimes, at night, my Da would sit on the dock, smoking his pipe. He’d seat me between his knees poked up, me holding his ankles just to be sure so I could bend over, watch the life in the water. My sister the saint, she’d be reading, my baby brother already down. Sometimes mama’d slide in behind him and play with his hair. He’d lay his pipe down, lean back a bit, humming Peg o’ my heart. So one night, just like that, I fell off the end. Didn’t even make a splash. Came up, saw them kissing. I didn’t want them to stop so I grabbed on to the dock, pulled myself along until I got to the back end but there was nothing to yank up with. I heard Mama scream then. Da jumped in the water with all his clothes on. My sister came running out of the cabin. I said “Mama” and she screamed again. So anyway, the kissing ended. But we made popcorn. You cannot conceive the many without the one. |
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I loved that place...........it was in Bridgeton, ME as we got older, there was even a small public beach on the other side of the lake with an ice cream stand where you could pretend to get into trouble......grins You cannot conceive the many without the one.
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 Terrorizing your parents like that.  So glad to have those kind of memories to review form time to time.  Vive La Difference
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Aaaaw My memory of trouble making at the lake was when I incited my cousins to swim with me "over to that point across the way". Parents didn't notice for a while how far out we were, then furiously swam out to rescue us (I'm pretty sure I was fine, but maybe my cousins weren't swimmers?). Oh man, did I get a scolding.   
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*sigh Such a wonderful memory. As always, perfectly shared, thank you.
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I love reading about those who could have great memories of growing up having family vacations...With 8 kids and only Dad worked, we never had family vacations! Thank you for sharing your wonderful vacation! 
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It sounds like you had a really great childhood. . I envy you. What a sweet story. . That sounds like somewhere I'd like to live permanently. . Except for the lack of running water, that is. . I'm too old to be carrying buckets. Beautiful story, beautifully written. . I love reading you stuff!
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That must have been one passionate for them not to notice you fall in the water! 
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Wonderfull Story WE,  Visit my Blog Older but no Wiser and find out more
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I know the very lake you mean. Bridgton is about 45 minutes from me via the back roads.. What a great memory to have. You shared it perfectly so all of us could feel like we were there. Thank you so much!!!! (Virtual Symposium Group) use Virtual Symposium Group
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Awesome story and some wonderful memories Wicked hugs V Become a blog watcher sweet_vm
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Very evocative, and funny as fuck!! 
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Nice memories Sommaire Et la souffrance vgtale L'être idéal ? Un ange dévasté par l'humour. E.M. Cioran
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I'm with the others who suggest that you get your work published. I hope you recognize the value that your writing brings to others.
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