 Poetry: July 07, 2021 Issue [#10860] |
This week: Both Sides of the Lense Edited by: Fyn  
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Travel makes one modest. You see what a tiny place you occupy in the world.~~ Gustave Flaubert
Not all those who wander are lost.~~J.R.R. Tolkien
A vacation is having nothing to do and all day to do it in.~~Robert Orben
The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.~~Saint Augustine
A mind stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions.~~Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Headed off tomorrow, 7/1, to the easternmost edge of Lake Ontario. A gathering of much of the clan. Spending long overdue time with not only those who live in that neck of upstate NY but with those who live literally just down the road apiece. A twelve-hour drive to see two daughters who live less than an hour away. Funny, when you think about it. But still, it will be so nice to all be together. Camping out, tents colorfully dotting the big yard leading down to the water. The scramble for who'll get there first and grab prime waterfront acreage.
Hubby and I will be in the house. By virtue of being the oldest, we get to stay inside the big hundred-year-old house that has reigned there as the family camp for as long as any alive can remember. We used to camp outside, but the ground seems a lot further away than it used to and the dampness coming off the water does terrible things to old joints and bones. But I will still be able to hear the waves as Lake Ontario oft has rolling breakers crashing onto the rocks.
Everything stops at sunset. Chairs are settled at the water's edge. We all watch the sun set into the waters. The sky turns into an artist's palette of yellows, mauves, reds, purples, and gold. As with most, no two sunsets are ever alike. It is a quiet time, the photographers amongst us capturing those special moments.
During the day we'll explore local haunts, spend too much money at the flea market, and relax on the beach. Water temps are still hovering in the 60s, so I doubt there will be much swimming, but that's okay too. Stories will be remembered and shared. Yet again. As they always are when the clan gathers. On the 4th, we'll watch fireworks that will ring the edge of the lake like a bejeweled necklace.
We'll buy things we can't find at home like spiced ham and Wise potato chips. We'll enjoy those family foods that just aren't the same when made for two people. We'll all get caught up and enjoy being together again. For the six of us from Michigan, it is our vacation to someplace that isn't home. For the six or so from NY, it's just another summer weekend at camp.
I've been going 'to camp' for some forty years. It is always the same and yet, never the same. Viewpoints shift and perspective changes with age. I remember the kids being little there, babies, really. All the adults were forty years younger then and full of the drama life brings. There are those who were a part of that who are no longer with us. We've gathered in yearspast to spread their ashes in the lake and, as one or another of the kids will say, now we get to swim with Nana and Grammy. Or Aunt Chris ... or Mom. It's a family where we all are family--the in and out-laws, the cousins and the new ones - new husbands and boyfriends who are welcomed into the fold. I look forward to the days when our great-grandkids join us - even though they are no true relations except by marriage. Once upon a time 'kids' now have grands of their own.
The bratty 'too big for their britches' teens are now in college or parents. They grew into amazing adults. We are a microcosm, I expect. As such what we see or what others, outsiders, might see can be totally different. Works for when you travel or when you are the traveled-to. The things we notice, the moments, the moods. They might pass that some old waterfall so often they don't see it anymore. Perhaps seeing the lake stretching out to the horizon doesn't give them the same goose-bump-inducing thrill I get every time.
It's all about being observant wherever we are. It all about how each of us sees things differently. And it is in these moments a poem is born.
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Beholden  says: I am moved to respond to this newsletter. I just wanted to say... Exactly.
Rhymer Reisen  comments:Such an important message through an artistic waltz of the mind! Your word-play is unmatched, and the flow is so natural. Maybe we try so hard to be writers, to make the characters and plot work, and we forget to let the piece be its own life, even if it’s not what we wanted. Great newsletter!
Lilli 🧿 ☕  adds: Love this! Every word. Thanks for sharing!
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