That sinking feeling: Sailing the Pelican
The other day I was sitting around, semi depressed, and thinking. One of my friends once told me "the older you get, the easier things are," but realistically I've learned that statement isn't quite right.
If things seriously get easier as you get older, then why do I miss being young so much?
It seems to me that when I was younger (elementary age), every day was a new adventure, nothing ever went wrong, and we didn't care about anything except what we were doing the next day.
When I was in fourth grade I had a best friend named Dallas Petree. Now Dallas wasn't your average 10-year-old kid. He was exceptionally bright for a 10-year-old, but by bright I don't mean straight A (school smart), I mean devious.
Dallas was in my fourth grade class that year, and though my schooling may have been impacted negatively, I still believe I learned more that year, than any other year yet.
Dallas had a new adventure planned every day, but the one I don't think I'll ever forget was our plan to "sail" down the Pelican River.
We made a "fort" in the woods behind the old Pamida, which pretty much consisted of a bunch of logs and sticks covering an old drainage ditch (this was before Midwest Bank was built). Our fort had an old couch in it, and thirty dollars worth of pop and candy.
Though our fort made a pretty cool chill spot, it served a purpose more than that. Dallas and I had spent a week exploring every inch of woods back there, until we finally found what we had been looking for. Wedged off the bank of the river was an old rowboat (one that looked like it hadn't been used in years), which seemed perfect to us.
We set a plan up. Our plan (remember we were 10) consisted of me telling my parents I was staying at Dallas', Dallas telling his mom he was staying at my house, and the two of us sneaking off that night, and taking the rowboat to Pelican Rapids, then we would hitchhike back home (before afternoon the next day?)
Well the first part of our plan worked out perfect, we were both set as far as the parents went. In fact, everything had worked out perfectly so far, we had pop, snacks, freedom, and we were ready to go.
We put everything in the old rowboat (which seemed stable at the time), shoved it in the river (it kinda floated) and both attempted to get in. Dallas got in and all was fine, but when I got in the rowboat it split into two pieces, and quickly sank, than floated off in the small, dilapidated shipwreck it was.
Our plan didn't work out, at all. We ended up spending the night in our fort, and the river idea slowly faded away (as I'm sure the old boat did). As time went on, they started cutting down those woods, and eventually our fort was gone with the woods.
Dallas and I, on the other hand didn't disappear, though our adventures may not be as complex (and disappointing) as they used to be, we still remain close friends to this day.