A Quest for Treasured Memories

A SEED IS PLANTED We know not from whence our deepest desires are born, only that they do exist and keep returning to our innermost thoughts, urging action toward some form of fulfillment. I don’t rightly know where or when my desire came to be for taking on the task of writing this novel. I only know that somewhere among these first pages of the book a seed was planted, a seed that lay dormant for many years after my childhood but then sprouted into a wonderful branch of adventure and intrigue. Memories of the not-so-distant past return to my mind, a little hazy, in the likeness of an old home movie. It is a hot August day in 1963 when our family car pulls into the pebbled driveway of a small cottage situated near a silvery lake in upper Michigan. “Let’s get the girls in for a swim in that nice cool water”, my father suggests to my mother as he strips down to his swimming trunks. My father is a slender young man with a slightly receding hairline and a sparkle in his eyes that emanate the look of a quest for fun and adventure. As mother holds a towel high, my sister, Crystal, and I change into swimwear. We run to meet father on a squeaky wooden dock that connects the cottage property to the shimmering lake. “Now, don’t forget that Nibblers, the monster, lives in this lake!” father reminds us. Suddenly Crystal and I have bellies filled with butterflies, anxious to flee from the scary sea monster. Mother glances up at the sky. Her knee-knocker shorts and bobbed hairstyle with soft loose curls blow gently in the breeze. She is the perfect picture of beauty and practicality all at once. “The clouds are rolling in quickly, Hans”, she informs my father. “We really should unload the suitcases first.” But the gentle ripple of small waves against the old wooden dock was much too inviting to change course now. “Just one quick dip,” father insists as he helps Crystal to slide down into one of the inner tubes he had just finished inflating. “Don’t worry, girls - I’ll protect you from Nibblers.” “C’mon, Coral,” he then motions to me. “You’re going to like swimming in this nice cool water.” My mother helps to position me into the second inflated inner tube. She then sits on the dock so she could cool her feet in the water while she splashed and played with us. I paddled my feet and turned the inner tube with my arms but couldn’t find father. Suddenly I felt something touching and holding my feet. Shrieking, I kicked free only to see my father’s head pop up out of the water. “What’s wrong, Coral?” he asked innocently as he wiped water from his eyes. “Did Nibbler’s babies get your feet?” After that initial scare, Crystal and I both knew if we saw father’s head disappear beneath the water, we could expect to have our feet captured. We took turns giggling and screaming. Soon we began to see and feel droplets of water that were not the result of splashing. And the gentle breeze had evolved into a light wind which began to gust at times. “Oh-h, dog-gone-it!” mother exclaimed as she helped father to get us safely out of the water. “I knew we should have unloaded our suitcases first!” We all ran for the cottage now, with wet sandy feet, since the rain had started so suddenly. Mother ran through the cottage searching for blankets to warm us and a broom to sweep the soiled floor. “Wrap up in these, girls”, she suggested and went about helping to dry us with some woolly blankets she had found. “You’ll have to bundle up in these blankets just until we can get your dry clothes out of the suitcases. I don’t want anyone catching a chill.” Father tried to console mother while she was wrapping a warm blanket around his own shoulders, but it was useless at this moment. He found an old newspaper and worked crossword puzzles with Crystal and I to pass the time. “My family used to go on vacation at Matterhorn State Park,” he told us as we searched for words. “We played behind sand dunes there and had lots of fun.” With everything back in order, Crystal and I said our prayers and were tucked into bed. As mother sipped on a cup of warm tea, my father put a gentle arm over her shoulder and they gazed out of the cottage window together. The darkened lake glimmered from the reflection of shimmering stars in the clear night sky. Shadows of a very old tree that stood on the cottage property danced with the light breeze and a dim outdoor cottage light illuminated an old rubber tire leaning against the cottage wall. “Candace,” father began to inform my mother of a plan he was brewing up. “In the morning I’ll use some rope to tie that rubber tire from the old tree out there.” He pointed toward the branch which he thought would best hold a tire swing. “Well, please make sure the knots are good and tight,” mother remarked. “We don’t want anyone breaking an arm or leg during our vacation.” The following day father hung that tire from the tree branch with plenty of strong knots. Crystal and I swung high and long with no broken bones suffered on this vacation. In the late fall of that same year, father had to attend an out of town business convention. I can recall mother taking Crystal and myself downtown by bus to shop for food and clothing. As we completed our shopping, the wind and rain began. Mother struggled incredibly to manage the bags of needed items along with keeping us safely beside her. “Hello, Crystal. Hello, Coral,” father soon greeted us by means of our rotary telephone. “I love you and I’ll be home soon.” “We love you, daddy,” Crystal and I would chorus into the telephone together. “I’ll bring you each a surprise when I come back,” he added as we gave the telephone back to mother. “Hello, Hans. I’ll need you to stop at the store and buy some gravy on your way home this afternoon,” mother requested before his return. “I’m out of flour and cornstarch, both, since I’ve been doing so much baking lately.” We had only one family car, so she was in somewhat of a fix without transportation. “Alright, Candace - I’ll stop by a grocery on my way home,” he answered. “I love you sweetheart and I’m looking forward to being at home with all my girls.” “We love you, too, honey,” she added delicately. “The girls and I are very anxious for you to be here with us.” Mother grasped father tightly as he walked in the door much later than expected that evening. Being exhausted from the drive, he had forgotten to stop at a grocery, and stores were not open 24 hours at this time. After our dinner prayer, father began to converse.