Wilderness forests have always been part of my soul. I was first introduced to the wild natural world by my adoptive father in 1951, when I was four years old. We’d go deep into the Canadian forests of Ontario twice every year, 3 weeks each time — to explore and enjoy the remote lakes and streams… fishing, hiking, camping, totally off the grid. No phones, no TV, no electricity — it was glorious.
We’d have to portage through a chain of pristine lakes and narrows, to the small, private island that dad co-owned with a Canadian family. Hand-built, self-cut log cabin, with huge wood burning black iron stove for cooking the fish we caught, and small game dad hunted, and to heat the cabin. Small log and sawdust ice house out back. Double hand-built docks, one on each side of the stone island. It was a bit over an acre in size, covered in tufts of scrub grass, moss, wild lowbush blueberries, and originally with a good stand of white pine, mostly felled to build the cabin. Later a small lawn of Kentucky bluegrass was maintained in front of the cabin porch. Pure glacial drinking/cooking water came right out of the lake.
Chilled mornings, meant waking up to meet the sunrise, cabin falling into a Canadian morning chill, the sound of lake loons echoing across the water, through the morning mist. Then into my boots and fishing jacket, then flashlight in hand to the outhouse, the chill nipping at my ears and cheeks. Back to the cabin, the smell of bacon, eggs and potatoes, beginning to permeate the warming air inside. Intoxicating.
With the rising sun, just nearing the horizon, it was grab the Coleman kerosene lantern, put on two new mantles, then pump and light, so we could maneuver the early morning dark to the low hiss of the lantern. We then grab the rods, reels, nets, stringers, and tackle box, and into the boat. Crank up the Evinrude for a morning of mythical fishing — which we also repeated every evening, the old Coleman, reaching its glow cross the twinkling ebony water, helping us locate the dock, coming home under the crystal clear, billion-star Ontario night. We were often treated to the arora borealis (northern lights).
Afternoons were for cleaning fish, swimming in the cold northern water, hiking the forests that came right down the the bouldered shores, across from our island, sometimes going to the beaver lodges and gig the mud for little green frogs, with which to live fish for large mouth bass and northern pike — pike also loved the chub and shiner minnows we’d seine for. Some afternoons found us pole navigating the narrows through the lake chain to get to the small wilderness store at Lehman’s Landing, to pick up basic supplies, and block ice from their big sawdust-filled log ice house. Amazing memories.
When I started my music performance career, launching the first of my numerous bands at age 16, those incredible Canadian days ended for me. Broke my heart, but my life was moving on, about to enter a several-decades long chapter of writing lyrics and poetry, designing home theaters and contemporary furniture, and creating art that continues today. The years that followed that, found me ultimately crossing the country, to help innovate and elevate the home entertainment industry, ultimately becoming part of the George Lucas creative group at Lucasfilm LTD. But that is all another story — and it ain’t rated PG.
*
rob kistner © 2023
More poetry at: dVerse
I so enjoyed hearing you read this today. I enjoyed it more reading it here. The description is real and draws me in.
Can’t recall if you did leave OLN early…you mentioned you would and said the reason. Hoping everything turned out okay, Rob. Thinking of you.
I was nervous Lil, in a hurry, ready to take my upset wife to her biopsy, hadn’t planned on reading this, mispronouncing, slurring — it was terrible, I was embarrassed. I had to leave, as I said I had to. My wife was almost in tears. The leaving was a bit informal, sorry for that. This is the first draft of the preface for a book I would like to do, to feature my nature poetry, my totem and talisman art, the best of the rest of my poetry — and as a bit of a causal journal of my life story. I truly believe many people would find it fascinating. I am really trying hard to get it together, but my health is really hampering me. The arthritis in both hands, the failing eyesight, my failing hearing, the exhaustion from my advancing heart failure — and the impatience fueled by all of this. I fear I will be gone before I finish it. I need a publisher or an editor or just someone who cares that can help me pull this all gather — and get it finished. As a younger man I could have easily made this happen 100x’s over, especially when I was with George at Lucasfilm LTD. It’s all I can do these days to keep my Image & Verse site looking professional. I just don’t have the health and fire anymore. Saddens me.
Oh Rob, I am so sorry all this is happening to you. In the midst of it, know your words are appreciated by so many dVerse readers! And we all lOVED hearing you read this aloud. As Bjorn said, the pace fit the prose. I too think many would be interested in seeing this book finished. I do hope you can find a collaborator to work with you. In the meantime, know that many care.
Bless you Lil. I have got to sort out the chaos and exhaustion that health is creating for me. I always dreamed I would have time, until time began to have me. Well a good portion of it is wrapped in my 5 poetry and art blogs I have maintained since 1990, a lion’s dhare of ghat on my Image & Verse. The rest is in scraps of paper, too much of it I have lost during my mad life. I will keep trying to sort it into something meaningful.
I really enjoyed your reading of this memoir, Rob – I hope you will share more!
Thank you Ingrid, you are truly most kind. It’s a bit of the bits and pieces I have of a dream, but as I commented here to Lil, don’t quite know if I will have the health or time to make it come true.
Crisp and lucid – you do have a knack for the outdoor prose & poetry. I hope you can complete the work.
Thank you Brendan, very much. From your lips to fate’s ears…
I really enjoyed hearing you read this, and putting a voice to the voice in your writing. I didn’t notice any stumbling or mispronouncing. Mind you, I would have just assumed any mispronunciation was American pronunciation. 🙂
It was really beautiful. <3
Thank you Kate, you are kind. I rushed myself, and felt my mistakes and omissions, but I was concerned about, and hurrying to get my wife to her biopsy appointment for her throat. She was being blessedly patient, and thankfully we were not late. Now we wait. We’ll hear next week.
I enjoyed your reading of this, Rob. I know it’s a story that’s close to your heart.
I’m pleased you enjoyed this Ken. It’s not only close to my heart, it is about the birth and early growth of my heart.
That gift of nature your father gave you lasted your whole life. I have seen this with my own kids and grandkids…it is a gift that keeps on giving. The book you are working on sounds like a wonderful legacy for your life….maybe someone can help by gathering the text from various sources and stringing it together in some sort of order. It does sound amazing. I know the press of time. I am trying to get my memoir finished too, and am almost there, amazingly. It is hard with poor health and failing energy. Someone in your circle might be able to help you by gathering and compiling stuff already written? Or if we even do a few pages a day eventually it gets done. But I have not followed that advice myself. Smiles.
We were lower middle class growing up. My father worked honest and hard — blue color. He could not afford to give me much in things, though I never felt wanting. But what he gave to me in my love of nature has, as you so astutely stated, lasted me a lifetime — and it has grown and grown! I have shared it fully with my son, as best I could. I have also shared my love of tech with my son — so he has a part of his grandfather, and a part of me, and he acknowledges the two in himself, which fills my heart. My father’s love has extended two generations, and in my 9-year-old grandson, I hope it will be three generations. My son is very busy, and my health has been poor since my grandson has grown, so I have not been able to imprint nature too deeply upon him — and he loves his iPad, and his video games, and his pokeman… so only time will tell how deeply he connects with the earth. I pray it becomes significant for him. I do all I can, and it hurts my heart that I am not able to do more. However, he is quite smart, and a good kid, so I think he will find his own way to the natural world. He is concerned with what he is learning of environmental issues, and is able to grasp at his age. Also, he really loves nature documentaries! So… :).
My daughter-in-law is a professional graphics designer and an artist. She fully appreciates my creative side and is helping me, to the best her time allows, sort and compile my poetry. She taught me how to use google to compile my poems as individual documents, and store them in the cloud, so they can then be organized any way I wish. That has been extremely helpful. My son and daughter are also busy professionals, but they have promised if I haven’t finished the project before my death, they will carry it through, along with my son’s wife, to be a published, or self-published book(s) of my complete works. I just hope I sm able to personally see it through, because they obviously aren’t privy to my private thoughts, if I don’t write them down. I am now using Siri, dictating much of my what I want written. She makes more spelling errors than I am leased with, and spell check is not always a fix. But hey, I use what I can use, to do what I can do… 😉
This was beautiful to read- the place and the experience absolutely wonderful.. I think it will make a great preface for your book! I look forward to reading it someday!
Thank you Rajani, very much… 🙂 …I hope you do get to read it my friend… 😉
Lucky you having those wonderful holiday experiences as a child Don’t worry about spelling mistakes. An editor can quickly fix that.
I am of the old school who believe that poetry should be read and not spoken. The mind’s voice is the most magnificent. It is rare that the expression of the written word is successfully translated into speech by the author They are two different disciplines….it doesn’t automatically follow . About the book….your family have promised they will sort it in case you leave early. Anyway only the good die young so the road might be longer than you think. No worries mate !!!!
Yes I am most lucky Rall! 🙂 I may just may hang in here myself long enough to make this book happen? 😉 Thank uou sincerely for your encouragement My friend.
You have been sensitive and kind to me on the ( admittedly rare occasion) that I needed it. It has not gone unnoticed and it was deeply appreciated. Thank you Robert.
You are most welcome Rall. I generally try to be nice, unless it is not well received, then I am generally quiet. I like you Rall. I have seen you around for years. I think you perhaps even participated a couple times on my Writer’s Island prompt site a number of years ago. I published the Writer’s Island prompt site from 2007 until 2012.
I enjoyed hearing you read this, Rob.
I hope your wife is OK (and you, too). ????
Thank you Merrill I’m glad you enjoyed my reading, and I appreciate your kind words. We won’t hear back on the Biopsy until next week. I pray she’s going to be OK. I’m 16 years her senior, with a lot of health issues, I was the one that was supposed to go first, not her.
Wonderful reading of this one on Open Link LIVE, Rob! I confess I was quite moved by it. Especially love “Crank up the Evinrude for a morning of mythical fishing — which we also repeated every evening, the old Coleman, reaching its glow cross the twinkling ebony water.”
I think you mentioned something about a book (in the makings) hope it comes to fruition and soon! Thinking of you and your wife .. and sending lots of love and prayers. You guys are important to us.
Thank you Sanaa… 🙂 …we hear about the result of Kathy’s biopsy this coming week.
This is excellent and I loved to hear you read it. Prose can be very poetic, and I wish you good luck with your autobiography
Thank you Björn… 🙂