Dick's Hideaway:
Remembering and anticipating
In the moonlight on an April evening 51 years ago, a lady co-worker and I climbed a tree and sat on a limb overhanging Lake Calhoun, and we talked long into the darkness. It was a special kind of date that we enjoyed regularly.
Last week I was in Minneapolis for a short visit and sat on a bench beside the lake, now named Bde Maka Ska, by myself, with my unlit cigar that a sign thanked me for not smoking.
It was the first time in more than a half century that I had been there and I thought it would be fun to reminisce.
The day was cool, with some sun, a few clouds, and a modest breeze. The snow was all gone. The ice was partly melted and probably had only a day or two before it would be all gone, as well.
Dozens of walkers on the lakeside trail were joined by little clusters of mothers pushing strollers, occasional fathers helping youngsters balance their two-wheelers, a few joggers and quite a few bikers - probably at least 300 in all - during the first hour I watched. With the exception of one old man who flashed a tiny, tiny embarrassed wave to me, nobody noticed I was there, 10 feet away, except the young girl with him who looked startled when I replied "hi" to her grandpa's stifled wave.
A pair of mallards and two geese entertained me with their springtime rituals. Small clumps of floating ice passed by, enroute to their final moments crushed on the shore.
Planes departing the Minneapolis airport 10 miles southeast of my spot flew low overhead every few minutes and I wondered where they were going. Most likely had 100 or 200 passengers and I guessed the flights were probably going to Chicago or Los Angeles, Toronto or Hong Kong, or some other adventure destination.
My thoughts of times by this lake in 1967 and '68 were pleasant and I was happy to have taken a couple hours to remember.
I think how wonderful it is for people in Minneapolis, and visitors to their city, to have such a gem, right downtown. It's well cared for and well used. I think if I lived near there I would visit the lake often.
Mostly, though, I wanted to get home and sit by Pelican Lake and Minnitaki Lake, in the cold and the snow, and anticipate the glorious weather and the good times just ahead.
Remembering and anticipating are both wonderful states of mind. Together they sing a melody.
