Cal's Beach Bums

From time to time in this hear Blogoshpere, I've been known to be a little "long winded". Given the literary freedom to let the creative juices flow, I typically just write what ever comes to my crooked mind. At times I wish I was a bit more concise for fear of losing the attention of the 3 people that actually still stop by here for a visit. Sometimes I mockingly refer to our family blog as my "feelings journal". Maybe I should reconsider that considering I don't want people's rough and tumble image of me to be swayed to the soft side.

On that note - we're doing a POETRY Unit in 4th grade. I thought I'd practice what I preach and do the childhood memory poem alongside my 9 year old constituents. 

Poetry forces us to choose our words wisely and to be concise. It was fun. 

CAL'S BEACH BUMS - a memory poem.

With the sand between our toes

    for cousins, each day was a new adventure. 

No real toys or tools to speak of- 

    we dug, shaped and dreamt with our hands.

The castles, the moats, the rivers and boats

All on the shores of Lake of the Woods. 

With age and a swim test

    the privilege of roaming the docks was soon bestowed.

We fished and climbed and ran around

    mostly minding our own business but sometimes in the way. 

I learned the dockboy chores of tying up boats, carrying bait and poles and life jackets. 

Alongside the guides, I cleaned fish and in turn

    they let me wash out the coolers by myself.

Those three docks of my Grandma's resort helped raise me.

All on the shores of Lake of the Woods. 

A freckled boy with his fishing pole, some imagination and enough determination to pull every fish from the sea.

    He is me. 

65,000 miles of shoreline but this piece was mine. 

    My beach; my lake; my childhood.

All on the shores of Lake of the Woods.