It's Closing Time.

Another Thanksgiving weekend is now behind us. A 5 hour drive back into the city complete, the dog is snoring loudly and the boy is showered and having sweet dreams of another day at school tomorrow.  Nothing has really changed from Friday, but it feels different…like an ending.  Perhaps this is still in me from the way I grew up.

Living in “cottage country” as a kid, and having parents in the tourist business, meant that this last long weekend of the season was always a busy time.  It was the one last chance to rake in some more business before the long wait until Boxing day, when the winter season officially started. I remember riding around “the Lake” (usually Kennisis)  in my dad’s pickup truck.

 It was time to collect from cottagers for jobs done after Labour day, and to make arrangements for winter work, like shovelling roofs in the winter. It was a mixture of social and business, as we were welcomed into the cottages. Many of those clients saw me grow up, many became friends of my parents. Some are still in touch to this day.

Meanwhile at the Base Camp, my mother would be multi-tasking, keeping the store open and the campers supplied while basting a Turkey or two for the Thanksgiving feast.  My mother’s boundless energy in those days meant that dinner could be for 6 or 26… it depended on who happened to be up that weekend, and who she could reach. Remarkably we always had more food than we could eat. Inevitably there would be some minor calamity. The weather could be cruel, snow and sleet were not unusual.  Power failures or brown outs were common back in the day. The electricity grid was fragile at the best of times, with every other cottage running an oven at 230 volts to cook a turkey and some  electric heaters to stay warm, the grid would become overloaded. The lights would dim or fail.  Being resourceful was the norm, and soon generators, propane lights, ovens and Coleman stoves were pressed into service.

Once I entered the working world the weekends were also intense.  Being the jack of all trades at the Backwoods Marina meant anything was possible.  It could start with a morning pulling docks out of frigid waters, followed by an afternoon of winterizing and washing algae stain boats that were going into storage.  Selling a few snowmobiles for the upcoming season was always in the mix.  And yet, somehow we always managed to gather for some turkey and share some gratitude for how fortunate we were.  I don't take credit for that, but am grateful the people that were around me at the time said, let's stop and give thanks.

Today my life is quite different.  Living in the city we take many things forgranted.  The power is reliable, the weather is warmer…longer.  Business is Monday to Friday, 9-5.  The urgency around this weekend is gone.  When we head to the country now to visit family at the cottage I have a different perspective.

Now, when I’m in the north, I’m the tourist, so the urgency and rush is not present.  Shutting down the water and winterizing the pump is perhaps nostalgic, and doesn’t feel like work.  Today there was time to walk in the woods, marvel at the show of colour Mother Nature has provided, admire the work of the beavers at the pond in the back forty, and take the time to answer the 1000 questions from my 6 year old boy.  There is something to be said for slowing down and taking the time to appreciate what's directly in front of us.

Thanksgiving is still a time to gather with friends and family, eat too much incredible food, and be thankful for the bounty that surrounds us.  But somehow it still feels like closing time, summer is over. Now where did I put my snow shovel?