A lot has happened in the past few days and weeks, and it has all happened in such a rash, riotous way that it's difficult for me take stock.
A few weeks back, I was in Port Hope for Thanksgiving. After the massive monday meal at casa de Harvey, Sarah and I pulled up to a stoplight at the intersection of Cty Rd 9 and Hwy 28. This is an infamous intersection for collisions and that night was no different. As we waited to turn left off 9 on to 28, a car came through the intersection. We waited for it to pass so we could turn. Out of nowhere, in the deep black night, a truck with a horse trailer came barreling through the lights on 28 and plowed into the driver side door.
Everyone was okay (at least, we think they were) as we called 911 and waited by the roadside. Pieces of glass and plastic were strewn across the pavement. The little Chevy cavalier looked destroyed. The driver of the truck with the horse trailer came back and asked 'What was that car doing' as if to say he had no idea that he ran a red light. A few witnesses explained that he had run a red light. The driver left and went back to his truck, disappearing a hundred feet up the road.
The driver of the plowed car was a teenage boy and his dad was in the passenger seat. The father was fine but the boy was jammed between the steering wheel and the seat. The burly dad made a few phone calls and also attended to two people in the backseat - his daughters. The ambulance showed up and took away the boy driver and the girl behind his seat. Everyone else seemed okay.
Sarah and I realized that if it weren't for that car coming through the intersection, we would have turned left and WE would have been the ones getting smoked. Close call.
This life is fleeting. We are passers-by on a train; waiting for our final stop.
This past weekend, I had the chance to travel to an old haunt of mine with a few old friends. Joel picked me up on Saturday morning around 10:30. We hit Richmond with a full head of steam and trucked on past Smiths Falls. Otter Lake was the goal.
Joel's cottage is not an immaculate building by any stretch - it is a glorified shack. But in this life, it is truly all that you need to re-connect with yourself and with your Maker.
Joel and I discussed the fact that the city is complex. In the city, it's always a toss-up deciding what to do for entertainment. We are overrun with options. Bars, restos, golf, go-karts, movies, etc. We can't decide because we want to do the 'coolest' thing. Our expectations are massive.
In the country, though, you can kill 6 hours by building, burning and stoking a bonfire. And then, for an added bonus, you can cook something on it!
The chainsaw roared away for hours on end as we cleared some brush and took down a few trees. The crack of falling branches pierced the deadened country air, thudding on the forest floor. Axes whacked away at the remains, sending slivers madly flying in all directions.
The November weather simplified everything. The sun shone for two days straight. The beer flowed. The fireplace glow flickered to keep us warm. The lake glistened in a cold, expectant way - bracing itself for winter. The bugs were non-existent. The meats sizzled on the charcoal cooking fire. Steve, Simon, Jill and Mark showed up intermittently.
We lived like kings.
All I need is Otter Lake and good friends - and I'll be alright.
