Dad – Thanks for the dirt roads

I remember a time when I lived down a dirt road. We live fifteen miles from town and in the opposite direction, even further was the lake. I loved that place and I loved that time.

We had a small home. It was a two bedroom with a tiny kitchen and warm living room. There were four of us in the family. That meant someone had to sleep in the bunk house. Dad built two bedrooms out there. One for he and my mom and one for me. He also made a third room. That was mom’s sewing room. She made some of our clothes in there.

We were a meager family and quite frankly you could call my parents hippies. Mom made clothes, she gardened, canned and had all sorts of other projects going on. Dad was a carpenter and kept busy all summer, but as the snow piled up in the winter pickings got slim. He hunted to put meat on the table and took all the jobs he could.

I remember so many good times at that little house. I remember listening to story time on the am radio, in the light of the lanterns, on school nights in the winter. I remember the phone that had a rotary dial, and you only had to dial five digits to call the neighbors. I remember summers when we would spend all day down by the river making mud pies and chasing water skippers in between fishing sessions. I also remember running up in the hills behind the house all day only to return at dark, just in time for dinner. Such good times.

It is hard to pick out a “best” memory from back in those days. Today I have to claim the ride in the boat to the lake. Wow! That was fun. I know. I know. That wasn’t safe. It is hard to believe I am alive today with all the things that are deemed un-safe. Needless to say, we no longer ride down the road in the boat, but that old dirt road brought a lot of good times.

My brother of course was captain, and I the first mate, as we bumped along with the wind blowing in our hair. It is funny now to think of all the tangles I had by the end of those days. I would scream and cry as mom would try to brush them out, and then I would beg to ride in the boat with my hair blowing in the wind again the next time.

Dad always took us to do the most fun things. Today, the lake is tops on the memories. How blessed was I?! Sure do miss the good old days. Thanks Dad! I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

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