Truth is...

 

 

Truth is we did a few bits of stuff that would smash memories like these photos above. ...Truth is we were dreamers and doers.

Going down to the creek and chopping down a tree? We marched with an intent to make a log cabin. It was an innocent thing, and my brothers Robert and Bill did the chopping while my sister sat under the lean to we had made. It was good enough dwelling for the time being. 

The tree fell down after a crack and bang.

Me with sister Mary. I was almost 9 and she was 4.

In the mean time Mary and I ran back to the house and borrowed an oiled plastic table cloth to help with the decoration of the future cabin. We scurried back and secured it to the lean-to with strips of cloth torn from Bill's shirt. 

Mary and I waited and watched, I told her how we would play in the cabin.

our lean-to was classier than this
how to make a lean-to

In the meantime, while the brothers tried to drag the fallen tree to a designated building spot. It was a hard hard effort while Mary and I cheered them on.

After the attempt we decided to come back after dinner to work more.

Days, weeks passed by and when Dad asked "Has anyone seen the ax?" we looked at each other, noting that the as lay in the lean-to. After dinner, while Mom and Dad enjoyed their after meal cigarettes and coffee, Robert sprinted to the lean to and retrieved it. 

Easter 1959

Before they finished their ritual, the ax was placed in the breezeway, partially hidden by another oiled plastic tablecloth.

We never talked about it as adults even though the strong memory of the uncompleted structure lingered in our minds. It wasn't until that part of the woods was cut down by a neighbor and he talked about the tree and the lean-to which still stood protected the oiled plastic table cloth. 

Our parents were smoking and then finishing their coffee that we now adults smiled, remembering the afternoons we spent time attempting that monumental effort.

Don holding Mary, me holding Bill and Robert with cowboy hat.

Not lumberjacks, 1959

I asked my mom if she knew we were walking to the the creek like ducklings behind Robert who carried the ax with pride while the rest marched behind him. She nodded in a way that told me that she really didn't know.

Mom had seen us walking in our duckling way but didn't stop us.  

I then queried why she didn't stop us. "Mom, Robert was 9 years old carrying a large ax, I was 8, Bill was 6, and Mary was almost 5! Why, why oh why didn't you stop us?"

She didn't have an answer. Mom figured that one of us would run to get help.   

In truth, we were stupid and shouldn't have been there: ax adventure in our hearts and no common sense in our heads.

But, it was a memory of 4 children with a dream that lingered after 50 years.

front row: me, Mary and Bill in 1968.
back row: Robert, Mom and Dad