In 1958 my dad and grandpa bought a beautiful piece of land in Island Park and started building a little one room cabin. It turned out amazing. I grew up spending many vacations, long weekends, and spring breaks at "the cabin". I have hundreds, maybe thousands of memories, and all of them are good. In the late 80s, Dad sold the cabin to my cousins. I've only been back once. As we passed through Island Park this time, we stopped to look around. The key is still in the hanging pot on the front porch, so we didn't really have to break in.
The pump house always had a good stack of wood ready for the fireplace. The red pump brought up the best tasting, ice cold water. We had a great playground with a teepee, wooden horses, a sand pile (full of pine needles), a crazy rope swing, and the surviving teeter-totter. I went out to look at the old clothesline, and noticed something new - a satellite dish! We use to have a TV with a channel or two. I only remember watching Lawrence Welk, Jack Lalaine, Mission Impossible, and Mannixs.
With all the upgrades, some things never change. The fireplace, the ladder that is attached to a rafter beam, but swings down when you're ready to sleep in the loft, the tractor seat bar stools, the cookie jar, the enormous claw foot bathtub, the coffee table and the fridge. It's the same fridge! It must be 60 years old. The shelves swing around so you can reach everything in the back. There's duct tape on the door, and the outside of it has been painted, but other than that, it's the same fridge.
When we went to leave, we couldn't figure out how to lock the front door. It took us about 5 minutes, but the place was secured when we left. I'm so glad Terry got to see everything. The cabin has been such a huge part of my life. I guess we should have signed the guest book.
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