#Lyric Memoir
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Father and Son Among the Estivant Pines: For a While They Stand Together
Think of that seed opening to the sun as history unfolded around it; before Wisconsin had its name, before my ancestors had imagined coming here. We touched that history in the bark, feeling its heft, its weight, its gravity. Much like the love between fathers and sons or mothers and daughters, immigrant journeys, and the…
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The World Hooks Us With Appetite. Memory holds Us With Belonging
Northwoods vacation properties are full of contradictions. People go there for quiet and peace, but upon arriving, immediately unpack the noise makers: TVs, stereos, and phones, and turn them on. Whatever we meant it for, a cabin on the lake, like The Old-Style Place, always delivers what we truly need even if we don’t know…
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Nothing Is Forced into Action Except the Old Boat Motor
At the cabin, stories rise the way ghosts do. Nobody can produce them on demand. They are, like the Dylan lyric about sons and daughters, “beyond our command.” They flash across consciousness, drift back into the trees, return when they are ready. This is why I come again to Big Casey Lake, to the Old-Style…