TERRE HAUTE —
School is out. The weather is getting warm. Conditions are like they were planning family vacations of my childhood. I find myself wondering whether the wilderness I remember is still wilderness.
Dad was an avid fisherman. Our vacations meant heading north to find a lake suitable for what he called “drowning worms.” For some years we went to a camp near Minacqua, Wisconsin. We bumped over corduroy roads to get far enough into the boondocks to find a lake to suit Dad. We had no electricity, no indoor plumbing and we ate a lot of fish.
One memorable year Dad decided that Minacqua had become too crowded, or too “fished out” or something. So we loaded supplies into the car, put me and Ed and the dog into the back seat and took off for Burntside Lake near Ely, Minnesota — miles from any obvious civilization.
I remember Ely and Burntside Lake with fondness, so one year, when our sons were potty-trained but too young to object to a family vacation, we looked around for a Minnesota camp. Camp Van Vac on Burntside Lake was still there, but we opted for a cabin — with electricity AND indoor plumbing — on Lake Vermilion near Cook, Minnesota.
Given Number One son’s tendency to wander off, we picked a camp on an island. We figured the woods were deep enough for privacy, the lake was near for swimming and there was no chance whatever that the boys would get lost.
Number One and Number Two began wandering off in the early morning to pick wild blueberries from a patch on the west end of the island. They would fetch them back to the cabin and suggest that blueberry pancakes would taste awfully good for breakfast. They certainly did.
We were allowed to use the library in town where the most enormous moose head I have every seen took up most of one wall over the stacks. My Best Friend is no fisherman (that was a condition of our marriage!), but Number One likes to fish. He could do that from the pier so I was never stranded for hours in a boat as I had been with Dad.
We were close to the Canadian border, so we planned one day to dash over the border to Fort Francis. This involved driving through International Falls. Number Two son learned that former Chicago Bears great, Bronco Nagurski, had a gas station there, so he plotted to have us need fuel so he could get Bronco’s autograph.
We filled our vacation days quietly and happily — and memorably. I’ve wondered whether that island camp is still there and whether the wilderness is still wild — even whether that moose is still in the town library.
I guess it’s the time of year.
Liz Ciancone is a retired Tribune-Star education reporter. Her columns have appeared on this page for more than 20 years. Send e-mail to opinion@tribstar.com.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Thinking of happy times and summer vacations
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Have you ever noticed the transformation between the arrest of an accused lawbreaker and the first appearance in court?
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LIZ CIANCONE: We always want more than we need
Washington seems more preoccupied with the unemployment rate than they are about the constant stalemate. Still with thousands out of work and the unemployment rate hovering somewhere between 7 percent and 9 percent, it does deserve more than a passing nod.
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My Best Friend isn’t much for writing letters, so email has opened a new world for him. He can dash off a few words to a high school friend or his college roommate — now living in Florida and Washington State,
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For some reason, I seem to be the go-to source for all sorts of obscure information out at the Wabash Valley Family Sports Center.
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I once owned a gun. Actually, it was Dad’s gun and I was allowed to use it. He bought an air gun which shot BB’s to protect our home — in a way.
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LIZ CIANCONE: A robin stops to welcome the spring
I saw a robin the other morning. It was not the first robin of spring, of course. A few of the more daring robins had opted to spend the winter and, although they looked pretty sorry about it on a few occasions, it was a fairly mild winter.
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I hope you won’t think I’m picking on small animals, but I’ve been thinking about Easter and the Easter bunny.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Rising up to defend the poor groundhog
I read in the newspaper the other morning that Punxsatawney Phil is being hauled into court and charged with falsely predicting an early spring. I am volunteering my services as counsel for the defense.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Keeping eye out for signs of spring
The problem with expecting a groundhog to predict the arrival of spring is that there are groundhogs scattered all over the country. The Pennsylvania groundhog may not see the same kind of weather as the groundhog out here in Dobbs Park. In this way, false hopes are roused and the groundhog loses credibility as a meteorologist.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Not every other name smells sweet as a rose
It was either Romeo or Juliet who said, “What’s in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”
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LIZ CIANCONE: Innocence appreciated when you’re growing up
I grew up rather stupid. I didn’t realize it at the time. Neither did my teachers who seemed to think I had “promise.”
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I’ve been following plans for celebrating “The Year of the River” with interest. Rivers have played such a role in my life that I’ve celebrated a good many rivers. The Wabash River is merely the most recent example.
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I was asked the other day why I write about dogs I have known, but never about cats. “What’s the matter?” they asked, “Don’t you like cats?”
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My Grandmother lived with us. Ed and I were eager audiences for her family stories about the Cooks. Mom also shared her memories of growing up with three brothers.
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We Americans are a strange bunch. We insist upon our right to privacy, yet we neglect few opportunities to parade our personal business in public.
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I’m told that a pun is the lowest form of humor. I guess that typecasts me! I love them, but then, I like any type of word play.
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News this past week brought justice of a sort. The folks who decide these things have declined to pick anyone to be enshrined in the Baseball Hall of Fame this year.
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Let me ask you something.
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There has been lots of reporting lately about how long movies are becoming.
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Today is the big day. That makes tomorrow a sort of let down — rather like “What have you done for me lately?”
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LIZ CIANCONE: Everyone has a favorite holiday
I suppose everyone has a favorite holiday. My guess is that, for most of us, that holiday is Christmas. It's a holiday with a miracle no matter how old we get.
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It’s a funny thing about time. It can speed along so that you cannot believe that your kids can possibly be old enough to have good sense, or it can drag its heels while you wait for that first grandchild or while you are saving up for something really special.
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LIZ CIANCONE: The bottom line is what drives ‘Black Friday’ sales
Why is it called "Black Friday"?
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LIZ CIANCONE: Have we lost the meaning of holiday?
I’ve been considering a lost-and-found ad to see if anyone knows what’s happened to Thanksgiving.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Magic is always there with live theater
I’m a pushover for live theater. But movies? Not so much. For me it’s like the difference between canned peas and those picked fresh from the garden. Movies even COME in cans.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Maybe the Cubs will win it all next year
I was relieved to have the World Series ending before the snow flies. Heck, it didn’t even last into November this year.
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LIZ CIANCONE: Holiday decorating better when personal, simple
I fear that I am becoming an old poop!
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I understand that the cost of pursuing my hobby will be going up by a penny come the year 2013.
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