About Huck

Huck

Liked his small cup of coffee with milk and two spoonfuls of sugar.

Liked well-done, dark brown Finn bread with his coffee; this was his last meal.

Had a quick wit and a measured pace.

Sang old sweet songs like “Moonlight Bay” to me when he took me sailing.

Played a Swedish polka tape loudly on his car radio.

Gave us great stories well-told.

Drove miles to find the right board at the right price.

Got along well with his neighbors.

Kept a neat yard and tidy house.

Liked to sleep with the window open at his head.

Believed that many problems were best solved by pondering.

Was a key character at Queen Lake, according to author Carole Gariepy.

Grieved when he had to sell his last sailboat, but he wouldn’t sell it to us.

Had sauna with Ted Fornas, his childhood friend, every other Sunday, or so.

Missed his friends who’d died like Arne Riutta and Ben Stuckey.

Counted on his remaining friends including Elden, Willy, Jimmy, and Bobby.

• Elden Bjurling, half Finn, lives at Queen Lake, has a plumbing supply store, and funeral parlor (the body shop)
• Willy Virta, a Finn, helped with Huck’s projects, was the son of a preacher.
• Jimmy Flanagan with the big family was a fellow welder.
• Bobby Nadeau with the good wife, was also a welder.

Was a high-bar gymnast.

Rode the rails across the country for adventure and work.

Was a Merchant Marine in WWII who sailed to Santos, Brazil, for coffee.

Built the camp at Queen Lake and the house at 218 Ellis Road.

Ran a welding school and business for awhile in the garage.

Liked pretty women.

Divorced Thelmama after 20 years.

Was a responsible oldest son, who cared for his parents next door ‘til their deaths.

Gave a sentimental birthday card to Karl each year, with money matching his age.

Played semi-pro football with the Gardner Merchants.

Was born in Milford NH where his father worked in the quarries.

Could sail, as his friend, Don Wilson said, with no wind.

Died quietly, in his sleep, at home in front of a low fire in the wood stove.

Put his chewing gum on top of his hat when he was eating.

Believed that admiring your work was the finishing step of any project.

Was frugal with money and emotion, and left us with lots of both.

Loved us, his family.

2007

We made a board.

For the last 30 years, the rain has been flowing off the roof and hitting this particular board on the front deck. (Before that, the deck was much smaller, so there was no board to be hit by falling water.) The board was about to let go. So, with great resolve and greater trepidation, we set about to fix the deck.

You have to understand that, when carpentry genes were being handed out, I was at the other end of the store, reading comic books. I took shop in junior high school because I had to. All that's left from those two years of learning is a small, pitiable book stand that sits on a shelf at the camp.

In the boathouse, we found enough to get us started. There was a length of 2x6 pressure-treated wood on the rack. We didn't have a Skil^® saw, so we had to choose between a Sawzalls^® and my grandfather's table saw. The table saw won because we believed we had a better chance to cut a straight line with it. Even though the blade wasn't quite right, so we couldn't cut through the 2" on one pass, Sandra got us to a board that was the proper length, width, and depth.

Removing an old, rotten board ought to be easy, eh? It probably would be if we had the right tools. We had a crow bar that was too big and a hammer that was too small. The hammer broke on the third nail. The crow bar was unwieldy, particularly on the nails that had rusted and snapped off at the head. With persistence and a pair of locking pliers, we removed the board and nails.

We thought that screws would be better than nails. Sandra pre-drilled the holes and we used the screwdriver attachment on the drill to drive in the screws. Two stripped screw heads later, we agreed that nails were just fine. I used the butt end of a hatchet to drive the nails flush with the surface.

It took just about an hour and now we have a new board, along with a continuing happy marriage and all of our fingers and toes,
___
With apologies to Dave Barry's classic, "How to make a board."

By canoe

While Sandra and I were having breakfast this morning, we watched a woman gracefully paddle her wooden canoe along the shoreline of the cove. She was accompanied by a black Lab who sat quietly in the front.

The last time we took Marley, our Lab, in the canoe was in the fall several years ago. We were just getting out of the cove when he noticed something of great interest in the woods. He lurched to the starboard side and tipped the canoe, tossing us into the chilly water. The canoe righted itself with Marley aboard. Fortunately, we were just a short distance from shore.

If you're ever diving along the north tip of the cove and find a pair of glasses, they're probably mine.

Marley stays in the camp now when we go out in the canoe.

The berries are in

Roadside farm stands began offering blueberries and raspberries this week. The blueberries are good, but are tart from their fast growth; the skins are tough. Our wild berries near the boathouse and along the road are still a week or two away.

Raspberries, when fresh, are always good. They' at their best at room temperature.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Sometimes, the light of the lake comes to us.

This time of year, the afternoon and evening sun is reflected off of the water and onto the ceiling in the camp. First, the shimmering brightens the porch and, later, the main room of the camp, as though the Northern Lights had settled inside. We have a light breeze. The air is dry and fresh. We can see forever.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Oh, say can you see...

Let's raise a cheer for the folks who set off a four-minute fireworks display 20 minutes before sunset.