Sand box

We are considering a weekend trip to the "cottage". As a youngin, this was not really a consideration, it was as it seemed a certainty, inevitability or in short, "the way it is". Well, many years later, I fondly recall waking up there to sounds of a soft knock on the door and dad leaving with his friend G to go get... drum-roll please... Donuts! I always petitioned (whined) for the Bear Claw as it was most certainly the largest and then proceeded to unravel it down to the yummiest part, the gooey center.

After donuts, I remember the next item on the agenda was to go outside to the "sandbox" (a huge driveway about twelve feet wide and twenty feet long) to construct one of many elaborate cities over the years. My older brother B was of course the architect or should I say General Contractor. He would set me to task to build something then go around to other parts of the site to do "punch list" items and final clean up. We with out a doubt had the most awesome sandbox.

After what seemed like hours of constructing perfectly scaled buildings and road systems, we would start smelling bacon and eggs which would mean that the rest of our days was beginning. While we were creating our sand city, dad would be getting the boat ready for a day on the lake. So now well fed, we would head out for some fishing, skiing and floating down the channels looking for turtles. On the lake, we would often cruise up to one of the marinas to get a snack. I remember this seemed to be some sort of candy bar which was urged to be eaten soon so it would not melt. Depending on our fortune with fishing, I remember hoping that hamburgers and hot dogs were going to be the fare fore the night.

I hope E and MHM will have wonderful memories of the cottage or for that matter, anything that we as a family happen to do. I am happy for my memories but they are mine and mine alone. I can skew them as necessary as long as I am the one who is happy to have had the experience.