Emil always put a lot of stock in dreams. Said they were his soul talking to him with hopes of knocking some sense into his head. Also said it was only passing on comments from elsewhere. Where and what that elsewhere was he wouldn't say, "Archie me lad, it's not that I won't say, it's that I haven't a clue, eh."
We did a lot of talking during the day while working. Not sure if he was sharing or simply looking for an excuse to rest. Emil'd straighten up, massage his lower back and set to his story while I kept working. Most of it was nothing more than banter. Like the time he told me about the local high school football team, the Grand Marais Inanimates. Said, "the Grand Marais boys once had a friday night game with the team from Beaver Bay, the Buckies or something like that. Big rivalry and usually high scoring 'til the day the local high school earned its name. Seemed the Inanimates took the kickoff and downed the ball immediately on the seven yard line. Went into a huddle and never moved a muscle 'til the next tuesday. The officials yelled and screamed. The Buckies roamed around the field for near an hour before boarding the bus back home, more out of boredom than anything else. On the other hand, the fans went nuts. Cheered and laughed 'til tears ran down and froze on their cheeks. Legend has it the Inanimates woulda stayed there forever what with the townsfolk bringin' 'em food three times a day. Never did say how they took care of their bodily necessities and me being the gentleman I am, I never asked. Tuesday evening a thunderstorm rolled in and put an end to it when a few of the interior linemen's backsides were lit up by a lightening bolt. Took it as a message from on high that it was time to move on."
We had better things to concentrate on than deep thought. Even mixing mud requires some attention to detail. But come evening down by Aspen Brook things changed. Moving water does that to a man. It sure did to us. 'Specially when we were standing calf deep in the current with our beat up tennis shoes on. Almost seemed like the brook was passing through us, drug-like, washing thoughts out in the open where we could see them better. We'd most often start out fishing and end up talking.
"Uncle Emil, there are times when I'd swear I've been here before. I've daydreamt of just such a place as this. In this vision I'm usually camping alongside a rapids. In my fantasy I figured I'd be stream side for only a summer. Now that I give the notion some thought time doesn't seem to play a role. I'm just there, nothing particular to do, maybe I'm just reading a book. What we're doing here with your cabin is a whole lot like the fantasy, outside of the nine or ten hours of back breaking labor. In fact, in my daydream I don't do a damned thing. Just sittin' there for a moment then the picture's gone. Poof."
Emil slowly stripped in his streamer 'til it was dangling in the current at his feet, "Seems to me you don't have any idea of where you're going in life. Time on your hands, beautiful spot, the world's your oyster but nothing comes of it. No action. Life requires you to throw yourself out into the lurch once in a while if only to see what happens. Sticking your butt in a wringer will definitely force you to make some decisions pronto or you'll get yourself squeezed dry. Archie me lad, sometimes life asks you to do something totally stupid, that makes no sense at all, just to turn you into the person you're meant to be. Said it before, I'll say it again, not all of life is on the surface where you can see it. There's the too big to grasp, the too small to see and for us, the most important unseen is what's back there behind our thoughts. Sometimes even simple daydreams carry meaning. Could be your's is saying exactly what you said the other day, heading to college is nothing more than putting off your future 'til you're ready to face it."
My uncle sure hit the nail on the head. Not the first time he'd done that. Probably not the last. But him being right didn't mean I was going to run right out and turn my life around. Probably wouldn't do that 'til I was up against the wall and had no other choice. As it was you'd think I had a lot of choices. I sure didn't see it that way. Had I wanted to be in the Army I'd have already been there. 'Spose I could have dropped out of school but first I'd have to be in school. I was in Limbo waiting for the Blue Fairy to come along and make me a real boy just like she did Pinocchio. Odds weren't good but that's more or less what I was hoping for.
Conversations like that sure took the wind out of further talk. I was a little embarrassed to have someone seeing me as I really was. Emil probably figured he'd pushed as far as was safe. We fished in silence, my mind elsewhere and the trout seemed to know it.
In the morning I felt much better, as though I'd seen the truth. For better or worse I knew where I stood. A few years earlier while eavesdropping on an adult conversation around the dinner table I overheard my Uncle Ben comment on confession, "Should I ever go to confession with a real problem, I'd much rather deal with an intelligent priest than a saint." And that coming a non-Christian. Emil seemed to fit the mold Ben preferred. He was smart enough to see behind the mask. And was wise enough to know when the time came, I'd make my own decision. Ugly though it might be, the path I'd choose would be the right one.
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