I was looking through some drawers the other night and I came across some pictures from my Mom & Dad. Two little 3 x 3 booklets of black and white pictures from 1950s. Is these pictures I’m 3 and Gail would be 7, and were standing in front of the first cottage in what would be several cottages I’d experience growing up.
The cottage was build by my Grampa and Dad, all by hand, no power tools. Quite an accomplishment and one that still impresses me today. Just spend some time with a hand saw cutting 6×6 posts to length and you’ll know what I mean. I have a couple of vivid memories about this cottage. One is about a salt lick we had on the lot and watching the deer that came quite close to us to get to the salt. The other involves a car. Just to the right of the boardwalk is the driveway and it’s a little steeper than it looks. At the end of a weekend when Mom & Dad were loading up the car to go home. Gail & I were put in the back seat and told to “sit there and don’t touch anything”.
Well, after a while a guy gets a little bored and a car is a fascinating place. I leaned over into the front seat and was playing around with the steering wheel and then the gear shift leaver, and suddenly we were in neutral and rolling backwards down the driveway. Just then Dad and Grampa came out the door, dropped whatever they were carrying and came running to grab the car.
This is the view down the driveway to the lake. I was always told that the car might have rolled down, across the road, and throught the lot in front of us, and into the lake. Looking at this, I think the trees would have stopped the car first. Anyway, they managed to stop the car and get in and put the parking brake on. I think there was a stern talking to and perhaps a spanking involved, but all I really remember was being rescued. A good cottage story with a happy ending.