We flipped the old canoe upside down and strapped it to its trailer, then rolled it under the shelter of the barn’s overhang to watch the winter go by. A few lost swivels and split shot clattered out, pinging off thwarts and gunwales, then settled with silent puffs into the fine dust of former barnyard. Just like that, it was done. Another season was gone.
Upright, the craft looked like any other. Inverted, countless shallow scratches and a deep gouge here and there painted its personal tale. Contact with occasional concrete had chewed away at the bow. Shallow fordings of rock structures had left deep streaks, most of which had since been buffed out by even shallower fordings of sand bars. Mirrored creases outlined the dent in the hull from the time we’d loaded it onto the luggage rails of a Jeep Cherokee, only to have it slide across and fall from the other side. Nearly every mark bore testimony to carelessness, but it had left its marks on us too, and so we called it a draw.
We’d battered it through rough waters and dragged it through places it shouldn’t have been. We’d dropped it and overturned it, fell out of it and, sometimes, fell in. We’d stepped on it where we shouldn’t have and left it in the sun to dry. In turn, it helped us to our comeuppance of sunburns and catfish finnings, poison ivy and sawgrass and briars, to summer squalls and thunderstorms and more snake encounters than the law should allow.
It was our partner in the pursuit of a life we weren’t leaving unlived. Just which of us would outlast the other was unclear. At times it seemed it’d be a close race all the way to the wire.
The Old Man liked to quote Teddy Roosevelt, who’d said, “The only man who never makes a mistake is the man who never does anything.” At summer’s end, it was hard for some to look at us and see what, if anything, we’d accomplished. There’d be a few more fish in the freezer, a little more wear on our hide. Luckily, we could always point to the scars on our canoe. By Roosevelt’s thinking, we’d done our own full plenty and more.
Kevin Tate is a freelance writer. Email [email protected].
You can help your community
Quality, in-depth journalism is essential to a healthy community. The Dispatch brings you the most complete reporting and insightful commentary in the Golden Triangle, but we need your help to continue our efforts. In the past week, our reporters have posted 35 articles to cdispatch.com. Please consider subscribing to our website for only $2.30 per week to help support local journalism and our community.
You can help your community
Quality, in-depth journalism is essential to a healthy community. The Dispatch brings you the most complete reporting and insightful commentary in the Golden Triangle, but we need your help to continue our efforts. In the past week, our reporters have posted 35 articles to cdispatch.com. Please consider subscribing to our website for only $2.30 per week to help support local journalism and our community.
