Progymnasmata
By The Shores of Gitche Gumee
by , 05-02-2011 at 03:03 PM (2359 Views)
I can trace most of my joys, pensive moments, and profound decisions to a body of water: I asked my wife to marry me as we sat beside a lake in a state park. I spent hours skippin' stones along the length of the "crick" back home. I know the local waterways as I know the road to work.
Here are some fragments water and me: beers with my brother and a mess of rainbows on a stringer beside us; walking on the frozen reservoir and the terrifying thrill of hearing the ice crack and pop beneath me; my dad helping me learn to waterski at my grandma's lake cabin; seining minnows and water bugs for my aquarium. . . . .
Recently my family and I took a weekend trip to the shores of the greatest lake. And, among the many things that we did there, I taught my youngest daughter the art of of "sitting on a rock by the lake and looking at the water". It was a silly project. But how often are we taught the love and the art of sitting and looking?
We sat by the shores of Gitche Gumee and watched the Lakers filled with ore leave the port; we saw hooded mergansers and common cormorants float on the cold water; we threw stones and watched them splash. We even whispered to each other even though no one else was around. The art of sitting and looking gives a value to silence that even honest conversation is ashamed to violate.
Here we are:
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