I took a vacation last week. And I got to spend much of it at one of my favorite places in the world: Schoodic Lake, in Lakeview, Maine. My family has been going there since the mid-sixties, when my grandparents built a “camp” on the lake. My grandfather had lived his whole life in Maine. He was a farmer’s son who started out as a truck driver, then worked his way into sales. He raised four kids during the Great Depression, and sent them all to college, too. In fact, each of his children went on to earn a graduate degree, and to excel in their professions: college professor, nurse, teacher, lawyer. The postwar years were good to my mother’s family, and to a lot of families. Lakeview, home to a spool mill that closed before the war, found a new life as little home-built cabins sprouted all along the shore, my family’s among them. My father and my uncles helped my grandfather to build his camp from a prefab kit, and the cabin’s four rooms were all open to the
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