I grew up in a lower middle-class family in a small town in southern Minnesota. Our summer vacations didn't involve airports or travel to expensive locations. Instead, most summers our vacation started with a long car ride to a resort near Pine River MN.
The resort was on a lake that my father's cousin Elmer had moved to in the 1950s and built 12 cabins and a campground on. It was not large enough to have huge walleyes, or trophy Muskies. Our goal was usually to find a school of Crappies. Early evening was usually the best time for that. The rest of the day was full of board games, playing with the campground dogs, or trying to coax the chipmunk out from underneath the stoop to fill his cheek pouches with peanuts. We were even lucky enough to coax a quarter from mom or grandma so we could buy an ice cream treat from Elmer occasionally. By bedtime, we were usually sleepy enough that the loons crying in the distance didn't keep us awake for long.
The cabins were simple. There was no television or radio, other than the very simple radio we brought with us. The cabins were not well insulated. Our air conditioning consisted of open windows with a box fan. And if you didn't bring it with you had to do without. We found that out the hard way one morning as my mom and grandma realized that they forgot to bring along syrup for the pancakes that were just coming off the griddle. Grandma to the rescue - she convinced us to spread butter on them and top them off with a little sugar. After that vacation, butter and sprinkled sugar were our preferred pancake toppings for at least a year. We called them grandma's pancakes. To me and my siblings, this simple destination was the location of many fond memories.
One of our favorite activities during the day was heading down to the dock along the lake edge. The water was clear enough that you could lay on the dock and see to the bottom. It wasn't very deep, but it was full of small sunfish, bluegills, and an occasional pumpkinseed or crappy. It was possible to take the end of your fishing pole and extend the hook and worm right in front of the fish you wanted to catch. What looked like a trophy under the surface of the water was usually quite small out of the water. But you could spend hours catching the same fishes over and over. This simple activity of catching "Sunnies off the dock" is still one of my favorite childhood memories.
As a man now in my mid fifties who has been fighting Parkinsons disease since the age of 45, I am holding on to this memory. Cognitive issues tend to cloud the memories of PD patients. Even more than the memories of catching sunnies off the dock, I hope to remember the closeness and joy that this now simple vacation brought to me and my siblings.
When Parkinsons eventually wins the battle I am fighting against it, I don't need anything too fancy for my eternal destination. A simple lake cabin with the loons serenading me to sleep, followed by grandma's pancakes for breakfast. Then maybe a few hours each afternoon to catch some Sunnies off the dock.
