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
Andreas Simic©
