Monday, May 17, 2010


Interesting, don't you think, how non-blood related people adopt? Think about it and look at the people around you that are not necessarily only friends, rather have a little more space in your inner circle.

What started me thinking about this is when Shirley mentioned the Allard died and he was like a father to her husband as well as herself. The relationship was beyond friendship, being father-like and should be classified as soul ship. Old Trunks is hopeful you have people like this in your life.

I am a fortunate one, along the way, I have been adopted several times. Although I do not consider myself a needy personality, these kind folks seem to see a reason within them selves to give me embrace.

Aunt Lillian took me on as a daughter the birthdays after Mother died, stating I needed a mother image. I adored her for that and all the years I had known her, we became close and visited, and wrote. It was a great experience for both of us.

Regardless of what tries to do, this sort of connection is not something one works on. Or at least doesn't strive to accomplish.

Take the case of Farmer Paul. Now, I met him in '98 at the lake. We are neighbors. Our conversations were about fishing and weather mostly. We call him the mayor; he knows everything that is happening in camp. Tom and I send birthday cards to him and his wife and we, for this decade or more, have been emailing good junk.

Now, he is not a farmer, rather a retired person from Southern Minnesota. This past winter, we became farmers in the cause of and Face book. We were excited to see each other beyond I/M and farming and compare stories. We were excited to learn about his grand daughter and her new puppy. (The kind that uses a piddle pad and misses regardless).

Instead of him waving from the porch, he came down to give me a friendly hug.

This may seem odd to you but in all the years I have gone to the lake, where Tom was established, this is the first connection that, instead of being in Tom's shadow with his friends, (now my friends because they are his friends), I had made one on my own. That is two lake people, if you are keeping score.

Although people are friendly in an outside sort of way, fishing camps are cults. Or, for those of you where the word, 'cult' raises a flag, perhaps it is better to say clique or small town attitude. What is the common thread? Fishing and weather, beyond that, there is little hope of new conversations.

The only other thing talked about is the business of how it is run. Or how was your winter and the conversation is over after good, bad, ugly. And for certain, just how much snow we had or didn't have.

Another option is to listen to old timers talk about their past, stories you heard year one, two, and three. Just this weekend, we were stopped on the road by a man who gave us another round in detail of all his illnesses for three decades. STOPPED ON THE ROAD IN THE TRUCK LEAVING THE CAMP!

So I have a new uncle, I met him on Facebook, not eharmony or some other amour site in cyber space.


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