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Signs of Generations Past and Future

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A hammer and a few nails are what I need and while I should take a few minutes from what I am attempting, go get the hammer and nails and quit screwing around.

Was that a pun? I laugh because I know Ron would use his DeWalt Impact and the sign would be screwed into the tree in a flash.

At the moment, however, he is installing new ceiling joists in the bathroom, adding insulation and 1 x 6 V-groove cedar on the walls and ceiling.

I shall not keep him from this task that will result in the completion of our bathroom. This is really big stuff.

The bathroom has been a work in progress, but then isn’t everything if you don’t have a home-redo contract with HGTV or the Magnolia Network.

Two walls in the bathroom are vertical knotty pine and are original to the camp.There was no reason to remove them, especially so as the style is reminiscent of the knotty pine my dad used back in 1956 to finish our Florence Street basement. Brings back a lot of memories.

The bathroom sink is across the room from the knotty pine walls and often while looking in the mirror I see a slide show from another place and another time.

The sink and toilet are new, replaced by Ron the year he ripped out the blue shag rug and put in a random width pine floor.

Over the years, we have learned bits and pieces of the camp’s history, the various families who at one time or another joined together here and although the structure they knew is not visible today, the footprint does not change but the laughter and camaraderie of generations before us remain within its walls.

While Ron is progressing on renovations for future generations of our family, I am holding on to the last 26 years. Desperately, some may say and yet, when I came across the three handwritten signs in the Boathouse Bunk, stored from so many years I think not.

Thus, I am trying to wedge a piece of weathered wood between the lower limbs of a tall cedar that stands at the edge of our north shore lot.

An arrow and the words, “Niagara Bridge” written with a Magic Marker by our oldest grandson, Matt, now 25, indicates the way to the four-foot deep runoff between our lot and Laurie’s next door.

The four oldest grandkids named the runoff Niagara Falls as the water that ran through was swift during a heavy rain. Today, as I fool with the sign, “Niagara Falls” is fairly quiet. The “bridge,” is a thick fallen pine and I can almost see the kids scampering across to meet up with Laurie’s two boys.

Two smaller signs were written by Brady, now 23, and again in black Magic Marker, indicating, “Mooseview Camp” and “North Shore.”

Tools in hand this time, before nailing them to the birch tree between Mooseview and North Shore, I check to be sure the arrows are pointing in the right direction.



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