If you Google it, the search comes up as a dot it is so small growing up years ago they said the population was 500 but that had to have included the people passing through for we had an ESSO, Schell, Gulf, BP and Texaco gas station
Being on the way to cottage country we were that stop far enough from the big city for cottagers to be ready for a bathroom break and a fill up at the pumps Crime was something we only read about in the papers
Our claim to fame the lake, and ice fishing You could drive your car to the island in the dead of winter passing by fish huts painted in an array of colors The ice road delineated by trees to avoid getting lost
Sure we had the odd break in at a cottage but nothing that got our name in the news Oh, we also had two churches and a one room school house we arrived when I was in grade two, Miss Mitchell was the teacher
Growing up in those days meant hours playing If we weren’t swimming, we were future hockey stars or baseball players, Ian and I at the back of the school pitcher and hitter challenging each other
Hours upon hours at a time spent with kids from down the street Sure there were the petty fights but mostly with my brothers, but what can you expect when you have four boys growing up each vying to become adult like
Those were, in my mind, the days of innocence before computers and the world became larger and the internet allowed you to see it all, the poverty, the deadliness of war, man’s cruelty
Once a place I wanted to desperately get away from to get lost in the city, an introvert looking for a place to hide I now find myself reminiscing of those long lost days where life was simple and a day could be spent daydreaming