......

SO THERE WE ARE (well, there we were, but let's just pretend, Reader Dear, we're still there)...eatin' chicken off the grill, takin' boat rides, playin' outdoor games, and watchin' the tide roll in (or out, as the case may be). We genetically-linked folks are relishing the sunny weather and pondering the poor soul (or souls) who squatted in the empty house of our deceased parents (or grandparents, or even great-grandparents, as the case may be) and went so far as to steal the copper pipes from the basement  furnace room [cut them right down from the ceiling, they did!] They left an empty vodka bottle and cigarette butts; they ransacked the place!)

Not all descendants are concerned. In particular, the little ones care not at all. And the ones who are upset try not to be.



We all stay away from the house as much as possible, lounging by the river, sitting around the tiki torches in the evening, hearing tales from the pilot of the boat (and his wife--these neighbors who have lived nearly all of their eighty-six years [or eighty-seven, as the case may be] near this river!) Ernie tells us how he ran out of fuel for his boat a few months ago and drifted until long after sundown. Ruth Ann tells us how she sent out the rescue squads. And then we all tell tales of olden days.



It's such a lovely evening, even if biting bugs give a few of us red welts.
......
Inevitably, though, the tide and time wait for no one. The weekend ebbs and it's dismantling time!




We hug our dear ones goodbye.
We hope to do this again at least one more time before the home place sells and the squatter must find another spot to drink his vodka.
......