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Me and Those Canoes
Sparse Grey Hackle
September 02, 1957
Illogical and torturous, they demand in equal amounts courage, resolution, endurance. The author loves them
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September 02, 1957

Me And Those Canoes

Illogical and torturous, they demand in equal amounts courage, resolution, endurance. The author loves them

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My fingers felt thin and hard as I wrapped them around the shaft of the gleaming spruce paddle and I was eager for long steady stroking in the balmy evening air. I was a king, and my hard bow seat was a throne on the top of the world. I pointed with my paddle at the veranda.

"Frank, I feel sorry for those people," I said with the earnestness of one who has just seen the true light. "We have everything that they have! We're enjoying ourselves more than they are; and," I added, subconsciously recalling my salary of $11 a week, "it isn't costing us a cent."

I believed it then and I believe it, every word of it, yet. And if you can't believe it, take my advice and forget about canoes. Which demonstrates that so far as I am concerned, a canoeist is unflatteringly different from other people. I'm sure you will agree when I add that I never could learn to swim.

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