One Thing I Would Do, Were I President: But of course, the nincompoops of this country have someone else, worse I might add;
I would get the lakes of the country shaped up. I don't know where to look for the number of lakes in America, but I'm going to guess it's 100,000. Wouldn't it be cool if that really is the actual number? Spooky, wouldn't it. Some lakes dry up annually, so the number would fluctuate some, and I bet on certain days in the seasons the number is exactly 100,000.
I've heard there are 10,000 or more lakes in some of the mosquito states. How many in Hawaii? I don't remember one.
I would take the list of lakes, and any lakes that have the name of another lake anywhere, I would get rid of. The name, not the lake. Then I would make people come up with new names for the dupes. I'd give them like a year. [Think you have Y2K problems? Wait til City Hall gets this Federal Mandate.]
I think this would cause a flurry of positive creative activity. (And boost the sign, and brutally depressed, cartography businesses.) People would be forced to change Big Lake, to Holy Fence Lake. Deep Lake, to Gaugie's Lake. Green Lake number 607 to Pea Pea Soup Lake. Blue Lake, to, Oooh Those Eyes Lake.
See how easy it is? Quit complaining! Get busy!
Whole communities would be forced to come together to LOCALIZE their lake. To make it unique. To examine the best events and cultural stories of their locale. Quimby Reservoir #17 becomes, after minimal discussion, Failed Amateur Submarine Lake.
There'd be town meetings where the local lore was traded in stylish fashion, with pipe smoking, local notables remembered (and even better, encouraged and preserved), people of power and stature but no merit deposed; arguments, fights, fafctions, plots, arrests, murder investigations.
It's about Community. Celebrating community. You know, you hear those phrases all the time, but the things they've come up with so far, have been pretty lame compared to my ideas.
Of course, there would tend to be a new sign, some new signs, around some lakes; except Big Lake #1, and I don't have to tell you what this will do for the sign business, but ~ it's really about Tales. American Tales. Local, high-calorie Lore. Lore Lake. Then, instead of the milquetoast "Land of 10,000 Lakes", there'd be the intriguing "Land of 10,000 Tales." Now that, would invite some tourism! And publication!
Here, in Centreville, I notice our lake is called Centreville Reservoir.
Ahem.
Please. Really. "Well, let's head up there!" Let's go see how the heck they came up with that invitation! I'm amazed they passed over Closed At Dark Reservoir.
I've been up there. There are a few special, obvious assets ~ there's, frinstance, a beaver lodge at the far end. Many people don't know that, about Beaver Lodge Lake.
The Bow Maker, that guy, he took us up there in his canoe. Well, his truck, and then his canoe. And knowing what you know about Bow Boy, no one will be surprised that this was an intensely beautiful, hand crafted, wooden canoe. You know; neat. A real privelege to ride in. Lake-fitting. If you have to ask if he made the paddles, too, you'll be skull-split with one, Dinkie.
So we plop it in the water, me dropping my end on the concrete boat ramp gee it's heavier than an aluminum one, and MJ and Bow Boy and the Artist set out across the lake.
Dip and feather. Actually; Dip, dip, and feather.
We get to the far end of the lake, around a slight bend, and the canyon narrows to where the stream enters. ("Centreville Creek," by the way. Snorf.) On the Left Bank, some of the bracken ferns are swaying mightily in the non-win;, hmmmm. Just one patch.
Zoop ~ they're gone. More ferns wiggle, coming closer to the lake, and then the mysterious ferns enter the water. Gee! I'm scared. I had no idea what was going on. They mysteriously head right across the end of the lake atop the water. Specie migration. The water was crystal flat and here go these bright green brackens zooming across the surface right in front of us. Then they get out of the water on the other side, by the big fir tree. They stay there, but the beaver comes out from underneath and slinks back down into the water, with just his little face and nose above it; and cruises back to the other side, making a perfect little wake.
"Mama," whispers Bow Boy.
We are dead still, and I am smiling so hard it hurts. This is cool. We're holding still. I'm wondering where the lodge is ~ and I realize that all the big roots of this giant fir tree come down closer than they should to the water edge ~ the arrangement is peculiar ~ the root tangles are the roof of the sophisticatedly disguised house. I'd only seen small lake beaver houses, behind beaver dams, which were fairly obvious.
Bow Boy paddles us up, very still, to right along side the tree. I'm thinking we're too close; but I know he knows what he's doing, and will not disturb these forest friends.
Mama tears down another bunch of brackens, and pulls them to the water, and they come across at us, just like a green torpedo. It looks like we're going to collide. I can't even see her head, but I know what she's doing. She must sense we are there; because this time she heads around the other side of the fir to leave the water, and adds the bunch to her pile. When she re-enters the water, she comes by the canoe. Looking up. Not three feet from us. I am so excited I am biting my cheek to stay completely quiet. I respect these animals; I don't want them upset. She cruises to the end of the canoe and turns and stops. Swims by again. Two feet from the side of the canoe. Four of us are sitting there completely motionless. Eyeblinks only. I've seen pissed-off beaver before; they slap their tails on the water hard. Mom doesn't look alarmed, as if I'd know, but I'm convinced when she turns away and heads across the water again. She waddles out on the other side, and lumbers off more fern.
Dad, catches us off guard, coming up along from behind the canoe. He swims right by us and dives to the lodge entrance. All of a sudden we can hear noise. Whirping, squeaking, barking. It's beaver babies! In the lodge! It must be three.
Wow! Wow.
Wildlife.
It made me feel incredibly happy.
To know these guys are here. That we haven't completely messed up the whole place.
I also saw a woman with really nice claevage bending over on the boat ramp. Mama! Aieee!
So. Which to inspire?
So, anyway, Executive Order #3.34 will be "Lakes For Goodness Sakes."
Now, here in Centreville, I would possibly have to nominate for "Trixie, In Red Sequins, Lake."
I'll think about it. And see? So will everyone else. Community assets will grow and mature.
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