An Old Canoe
My sister e-mailed me recently to tell me the canoe I had given her years before was now re-homed. A friend in a truck came to take it away. That canoe. It had a history. It was bought on July 6, 1979.
The reason I know the date is that it was my wedding day. We were married by a justice of the peace at 11 in the morning, went out to lunch at our favorite restaurant at noon, and then hit the sporting goods store after lunch.
We bought a fiberglass 10 foot canoe. We launched it on the Farmington River in northwest Connecticut and spent the afternoon of our wedding day drifting down the river. I was young then. It was a fairy tale afternoon.
Over the years the canoe met various adversities -- it fell off the roof rack as we were driving over the crest of Avon Mountain and that stopped traffic for a while as the light fiberglass boat bounced around on the road. Much later, after my husband had died and I was newly seeing a widower, we picnicked in that canoe on the local reservoir and it was beautiful.
That canoe was a romance maker. 🛶
My teenage sons ruined it on a a trip they took at low water one summer. Rocks punched holes in the hull and we fixed it at no small cost, but the tales they told of running the rapids were epic.
Eventually my new husband and I abandoned canoeing -- our small hybrid car didn't have a roof rack and we opted for quieter adventures. I gave the romance canoe to my younger sister, who promised to have legendary journeys in the old canoe but overturned in a swamp on the first outing and never took it out again.
Now she has given it away to new owners. May they have romance, love, and adventure for many long years in that 40 year old battered canoe.
💚 💚
The reason I know the date is that it was my wedding day. We were married by a justice of the peace at 11 in the morning, went out to lunch at our favorite restaurant at noon, and then hit the sporting goods store after lunch.
 |
| On its way to a new home |
We bought a fiberglass 10 foot canoe. We launched it on the Farmington River in northwest Connecticut and spent the afternoon of our wedding day drifting down the river. I was young then. It was a fairy tale afternoon.
Over the years the canoe met various adversities -- it fell off the roof rack as we were driving over the crest of Avon Mountain and that stopped traffic for a while as the light fiberglass boat bounced around on the road. Much later, after my husband had died and I was newly seeing a widower, we picnicked in that canoe on the local reservoir and it was beautiful.
That canoe was a romance maker. 🛶
My teenage sons ruined it on a a trip they took at low water one summer. Rocks punched holes in the hull and we fixed it at no small cost, but the tales they told of running the rapids were epic.
Eventually my new husband and I abandoned canoeing -- our small hybrid car didn't have a roof rack and we opted for quieter adventures. I gave the romance canoe to my younger sister, who promised to have legendary journeys in the old canoe but overturned in a swamp on the first outing and never took it out again.
Now she has given it away to new owners. May they have romance, love, and adventure for many long years in that 40 year old battered canoe.
💚 💚
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