David and I became lifelong friends beginning in 7th grade. We somehow gravitated to each other sharing the typical junior high and eventually high school experiences of trying to figure out who we were, where we were going and how to get there, or more specifically, how to score some beer, who is the right girl, where is the party for the weekend, and who can get the family car. Throughout high school we never did figure out the girl thing, but we got the rest worked out pretty well. Life was simple then, we just didn't know it.
Both of us, but David particularly, embraced an amazement for the BWCA with David spending a couple of summers working as a junior guide helping take other kids on week long canoe trips out of Ely or end of Gunflint Trail. During our junior year we meticulously planned a multi week canoe adventure to the Canadian side of the BWCA, with just the two of us spending over two weeks living out this adventure the following summer. We were actually pretty proficient, but as I recall, we stopped talking to each other about half way through the trip which was fine with David but kind of drove me crazy. This pattern continued when we subsequently sought out and purchased a wilderness cabin site and built a modest cabin on Northern Light Lake in Canada, adjacent to the canoe wilderness.
David and I went to U of MN but David enlisted in the Marines half way through his freshman year. It was during his leave from the Marines and summer break for me that we constructed a packaged cabin we purchased and had delivered to the lake. We have managed to get to this cabin, only accessible by boat, almost every year since excepting David's absence due to a year tour in Viet Nam and his spending a few years away on foreign assignment as an engineer/tech with Control Data, and me off to Texas for a couple of years. Time seemed to stand still as we both stared into the campfire over many years, sharing our dreams and reminiscing our past. We both got married and divorced (me twice), had kids, and changed jobs but this place and this activity became a constant in our ever-changing lives. We laughed at the prospect of growing old and kiddingly asked each other to just push our wheelchair off the dock when old age overtakes us. David died of a massive heart attack on the beach a little over ten years ago. I was not there. I miss him greatly, but especially when I want to reminisce our shared experiences. I only remember half of the stories! Going to the cabin is just not the same anymore.
Craig, thanks for sharing your memories of Dave. I always thought he (and you, too) were such nice guys. And your memories of the two of you confirms it.
Craig Avery
David and I became lifelong friends beginning in 7th grade. We somehow gravitated to each other sharing the typical junior high and eventually high school experiences of trying to figure out who we were, where we were going and how to get there, or more specifically, how to score some beer, who is the right girl, where is the party for the weekend, and who can get the family car. Throughout high school we never did figure out the girl thing, but we got the rest worked out pretty well. Life was simple then, we just didn't know it.
Both of us, but David particularly, embraced an amazement for the BWCA with David spending a couple of summers working as a junior guide helping take other kids on week long canoe trips out of Ely or end of Gunflint Trail. During our junior year we meticulously planned a multi week canoe adventure to the Canadian side of the BWCA, with just the two of us spending over two weeks living out this adventure the following summer. We were actually pretty proficient, but as I recall, we stopped talking to each other about half way through the trip which was fine with David but kind of drove me crazy. This pattern continued when we subsequently sought out and purchased a wilderness cabin site and built a modest cabin on Northern Light Lake in Canada, adjacent to the canoe wilderness.
David and I went to U of MN but David enlisted in the Marines half way through his freshman year. It was during his leave from the Marines and summer break for me that we constructed a packaged cabin we purchased and had delivered to the lake. We have managed to get to this cabin, only accessible by boat, almost every year since excepting David's absence due to a year tour in Viet Nam and his spending a few years away on foreign assignment as an engineer/tech with Control Data, and me off to Texas for a couple of years. Time seemed to stand still as we both stared into the campfire over many years, sharing our dreams and reminiscing our past. We both got married and divorced (me twice), had kids, and changed jobs but this place and this activity became a constant in our ever-changing lives. We laughed at the prospect of growing old and kiddingly asked each other to just push our wheelchair off the dock when old age overtakes us. David died of a massive heart attack on the beach a little over ten years ago. I was not there. I miss him greatly, but especially when I want to reminisce our shared experiences. I only remember half of the stories! Going to the cabin is just not the same anymore.
Stephanie Schmerler (Sherman)
Craig, thanks for sharing your memories of Dave. I always thought he (and you, too) were such nice guys. And your memories of the two of you confirms it.