Talking about Sno-Seal and tent seam sealing got me to thinking about my husband's and my yearly two-week canoe trips in the Canadian wilderness that we took throughout the '70s. We would drive all night (12 hours from Chicago to Ely, MN, if I recall correctly), take a room, fall into bed for a few hours' sleep. After breakfast, we would leave the car at the put-in point and paddle over the Canadian border to the customs office (required). It was a cabin perched on the high point of an island in one of the lakes.
We carefully maneuvered the boat onto the rocky shore, and on this trip my husband stayed with it while a Customs Officer searched it for contraband. Meanwhile, I went up to the cabin to be questioned apart from my husband by the other Customs Officer. He was a tiny man, something like 4 ft. tall, with a ginormous red handlebar mustache, which I think weighed more than he did. At one point during our laborious attempt at small talk, he asked me (in a perfect British accent), "Do you know your King is dead?"
"President Carter died???" I responded, incredulously.
"No, No," he replied, not without exasperation. "Elvis Presley!"
Wetters
JD, somewhere in my garage, there's a picture of me in my 20s, pulling a canoe (battered Old Town) through a shallow river in the Canadian wilderness.
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