Today I checked the lock on the pink BMX, and felt a wave of guilt for even contemplating stealing it. It was my day off. I had planned for the sweet, calming tedium of grocery shopping, perhaps a magazine read cover to cover while sipping a fourth cup of coffee, no random crimes. But there was something in the air: expectation.
“Perhaps because he chose to defy death early on and start a fishing camp enterprise, Ted prominently hung a sign in the lodge’s dining room that read: “Here there is no time.” And it was true. One only needed to get up with the sun to know when to fish; listen for the resonating ring of the cast-iron bell to know when to show up for meals; choose whatever activity suited the moment; and fall asleep when the moon rose and stars covered the heavens. For most of the citified guests, their real lives back home raced from one responsibility to another, but here in this Northwoods paradise—at least for a few special weeks—time stood still.”
Return to Wake Robin: One Cabin in the Heyday of Northwoods Resorts by Marnie O. Mamminga
“A ritual: on the last day of the summer school term, walking home from school, I would remove my shoes and socks and, carrying them in my hands, walk down the stony flinty lane on pink and tender feet. During the summer holiday I would put shoes on only under duress. I would revel in myfreedom from footwear until school term began once more in September.“