The Boathouse
Sunday, May 23, 2010
It was already Cherry’s last day in St. Louis with Linnea-Irish. They had been everywhere from late-night gymnastics sessions, the Botanical Gardens, the Science Center, church functions, and now, for Sunday afternoon, to the Boathouse.
First of all, Dad was leaving for Iowa for the week after church.
Then, after soup and bread, and naps, and Collette dropped off Francis at Puff ‘o Lump’s house for an Eagle Scout ceremony and youth group… then everyone else left down to Forest Park. Two visits in one weekend.
Before leaving, the girls were in a bit of a tizzy preparing to leave.
“Aw!” Cherry exclaimed, holding up a pair of her shorts. “The slushie I had at the Science Center didn’t come out! And Eleda spilled ketchup all over me at DQ!”
But soon they were underway.
The day was hot. In the 90’s, likely. And when they arrived at the Boathouse, the park was crowded, but not uncomfortably so. The mistake came in the pairing of passengers for the boats. Mom, OLeif, Rose, and Puck in one. Collette, Carrie-Bri, Cherry, and Linnea-Irish in the second.
“Take my iPhone, so it won’t get wet,” OLeif said to her.
Collette added it to Carrie’s leather Ferrari bag as Cherry and Linnea took the paddles and the rudder.
Well, everything went just about fine for the first twenty minutes. A few near-collisions with other boats. Baby birds in a little nest under the bridge. And then the expanse of gorgeous green hill backdropping the spuming fountains. That… was when things took a turn…
“Away from the fountains, Linnea,” Carrie warned her.
“I’m trying.”
“Seriously, Linnea.”
“I’m trying. It’s not working.”
“Linnea!”
“I’m trying, really!”
“LINNEA!”
What followed was an avalanche of water so severe, it might well have been a waterfall. There was a mad scramble for everything of value. Carrie zipped up her bag, which included the phone, fortunately.
“My heart monitor!” Carrie cried, reaching for it all too late.
In the aftermath, the carnage was complete. Carrie’s bag was soaked from the bottom up. The heart monitor had died. And Cherry had lost a necklace and her pocketknife.
They returned, soaked to the skin, in time for a picnic dinner. Sub sandwiches, strawberries, chips, and cookies. Then Puck walked through a mud puddle on the way back to the car.
That night, Judah arrived at eight o’clock for the two and a half hour special of the series finale of LOST, pistachios, and double-dipped chocolate-covered peanuts. It was a long four and a half hours of television, but it had some rewarding moments of cinematographic history.
Francis’ quote of the day: “Time waits for no man. I am ‘No Man’.”