Possessions

Of course it isn't even in the same universe as losing a person, but losing a useful thing also leaves scars, albeit tiny ones which surface rarely -- such as when a guy is reorganizing his Duluth Pack thwart bag.

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The locale is the bottom of the Kawishiwishi River just downstream from a rapids you must portage around, in the lower pool which is marginally canoeable and a place where the walleyes bite.

There lies a heavy ditty bag with a Buck Yachtsman (folder, sheepfoot blade plus spike, now discontinued); a near new Leatherman basic, gift from my son; other lovingly selected do-dads for pleasure and survival in the far north Boundary Waters, along with an outstanding spin-casting rig. Several years later I have still not been able to assemble a kit that satisfies me so much.

On the other hand, said son and his son survived nicely, and the lad, Ryan, gave me a favored memory. The three of us safely ashore and the Kevlar emptied out, he stopped shivering long enough to gather his c. 7-year-old thoughts, stared me sternly in the eye and reported: "Grandpa! We tipped over!"