Saturday, March 2, 2013

Canoe trip.

Quite often-mostly in summer- as I comb these beaches,  I see someone your size, six-four, with a lively dog, walking the shore. Down this path you and Butters ran up the knoll on the left and then disappeared at the mouth of Lake Garrison.

One summer, you and a friend were planning a canoe trip to the beach at about ten in the morning. It was way in the afternoon  when you finally took the canoe late across the mile or so space that separates our house from the beach,  the wind making it hard to paddle to the ocean by now. You worked hard, and I could tell, sitting on the deck, and spying through the binoculars, that the wind was making you work even harder than you had anticipated.

Then, I watched as you combed the beach for what seemed like an eternity. I kept hoping you had realized that winds don't disappear; that winds would make the return trip more treacherous.

An hour later, I could see you and your friend paddling against a strong current, and making little progress. Then, you disappeared from my viewfinder and I held my breath in anticipation.

Before I decided to send for help, before I warned your father of your demise, knowing how proud you were, you both walked in the front door, tired and disappointed, and asked Dad to help you retrieve the canoe back in a cove, surrounded by reeds. The three of you had quite a time getting that canoe, dragging it out toward the path that led to the parking area where the suv was waiting.


  1. Among the three of you, you were the one who canoed across that lake every time you visited, giving yourself quite a workout. You loved challenges like that, both physical and mental. Seeing you grow lean and strong and determined to succeed, making your way into the world on your own terms gave us all great joy and pride.

  2. Thank you for taking the time and energy to honor your son and his memory. Our lost loved ones live in our minds when we think about them, and they live out loud when we talk or write about them. It is all we can do. Bless you and your family.

    Sincerely, Jon Hammond

  3. What a beautiful memory. Many thanks. That was a touching story.

    Greetings from London.

  4. I hope your memories help you as much as mine are reliving my life with my parents and my brother. Although I shed a tear from time to time they are still wonderful memories. Have a good Easter, Diane

  5. Hi Rosaria,
    It would be lovely if some of Brian's friends would come to canoe in your lake. I hope it happens.
    Warm sandy hugs,