Elizabeth Culmer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
edenfalling) wrote2014-03-20 09:24 pm
edenfalling) wrote2014-03-20 09:24 pm
Entry tags:
Tales from Star Island: The Red Canoe
I duly edited Aunt Jan's story and sent it back so she can submit it to this year's Loon, which is the combined directory, yearbook, collected minutes, and literary arts magazine of the Star Island Protective League. (I won $50 from them one year, for my poem Inland, Walking South.)
Actually, I think I will post the edited version here, because it's a cute story and should be shared more widely than just among Star Island folks, and also because I like editing and think it's interesting to share examples of the process.
---------------
[[Hi Aunt Jan! I copy-pasted your text into the body of this email. All changes are marked by bold and underlined text. There are also a couple notes which are marked by brackets and italics, like this opening note! Mostly I just tightened stuff up and changed sentences from passive to active voice. I also fixed some weird phrasings like "the lake, Cass," or "the river, Mississippi," which may have been intended as a part of the canoe's own vocal quirks but which read to me as a malfunctioning search-and-replace or grammar-check program, and thus took away from rather than added to my enjoyment of the piece. Your mileage may vary, of course!
I did like reading this. I never knew the history of that canoe, and I'm glad that it is getting a new life with people who will take it on new journeys.
Love,
Liz]]
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Hi! I am the beautiful red canoe you may have seen paddling on Lake Windigo early in the morning or near sunset. I have had quite the life so far. I don’t remember much about the first part of it but I thought I could share the part I do remember.
My first memory is being in an alley, propped up against a trashcan. I had some broken ribs but otherwise felt OK. My fear was that one of those big, noisy trucks would pick me up and crush me. But I was saved instead! A young man walked by, stopped, and came back to where I was. He looked me over very carefully, then hoisted me onto his shoulders and marched along to what would be my new home. Bob (as I heard someone call him) set me up on sawhorses in the backyard. He pulled my canvas shell off and carefully removed my broken ribs. I never saw them again but weeks later Bob installed brand new ones from Maine. He tightened or replaced all my screws were tightened or replaced, varnished my wooden parts, installed a new yolk, re-wove my stead, and carefully applied a canvas/fiberglass shell, followed by a bright red coat of paint. I was ready and excited to be off to the water. [[Generally speaking, avoid the passive voice. "Someone does something" reads better than "Something was done."]]
Bob strapped me on top of his 1956 Chevy and, along with some friends, left Minneapolis and drove north to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. I felt the car jumping up and down with joy and anticipation; we were all happy. Arriving at Ely seemed to take forever. Except for a few bugs on my new paint job, I didn’t mind. [[Didn't mind what?]] The group loved to sing camp songs. Here is a favorite of mine:
Our paddle’s keen and bright,
Flashing with silver,
Follow the wild goose flight,
Dip, dip and swing.
There were many car rides, lakes and portages, and some rivers included in our adventures. One thing I liked best was to be pulled out of the water and set on the big slab of ancient rock, red side up, near the campsite. I liked listening to the folks who appreciated the wildness and the important role of the canoe.
One friend (by the name of Jan) became a permanent sidekick to Bob. One day they strapped me to a new car and took me to a new state. In Virginia, I resided in a garage and was rarely taken to a small nearby lake. After a few years Bob and Jan took me to a big Minnesota lake called Cass. I spent many happy years there, hanging out with the other boats, exploring the lake, portaging to Lake Windigo, and taking a trip down the Mississippi River. After Bob's and Jan's children learned to paddle me, I had one last trip to the Boundary Waters.
The following years were much slower and quieter - maybe too quiet - and after Bob's loss my family decided that I should go live with a new family, who would enjoy me and take me on new adventures.
Two lovely women from the west side of Star Island took me home. They decided to restore and refinish me to my original skin of canvas. Now a kind, knowledgeable man, called Rodger, has me in his workshop. What a craftsman he is, meticulously forming each replacement part. I am so excited to be on the water again. Watch for me and wave hello. “Dip, dip and swing.”
Hurry up, Rodger!
---------------
Editing is a lot easier after adequate sleep, FYI. :-) Also, if this gets into the Loon, I may post Aunt Jan's final copy here at some point, both to have a version without editorial clutter and to see which suggestions she kept and which she didn't. (Hmm. Come to think of it, Aunt Jan asked Vicky to edit the story as well. I should get a copy of her comments for the record. *plots idly*)
Actually, I think I will post the edited version here, because it's a cute story and should be shared more widely than just among Star Island folks, and also because I like editing and think it's interesting to share examples of the process.
---------------
[[Hi Aunt Jan! I copy-pasted your text into the body of this email. All changes are marked by bold and underlined text. There are also a couple notes which are marked by brackets and italics, like this opening note! Mostly I just tightened stuff up and changed sentences from passive to active voice. I also fixed some weird phrasings like "the lake, Cass," or "the river, Mississippi," which may have been intended as a part of the canoe's own vocal quirks but which read to me as a malfunctioning search-and-replace or grammar-check program, and thus took away from rather than added to my enjoyment of the piece. Your mileage may vary, of course!
I did like reading this. I never knew the history of that canoe, and I'm glad that it is getting a new life with people who will take it on new journeys.
Love,
Liz]]
---------------
Hi! I am the beautiful red canoe you may have seen paddling on Lake Windigo early in the morning or near sunset. I have had quite the life so far. I don’t remember much about the first part of it but I thought I could share the part I do remember.
My first memory is being in an alley, propped up against a trashcan. I had some broken ribs but otherwise felt OK. My fear was that one of those big, noisy trucks would pick me up and crush me. But I was saved instead! A young man walked by, stopped, and came back to where I was. He looked me over very carefully, then hoisted me onto his shoulders and marched along to what would be my new home. Bob (as I heard someone call him) set me up on sawhorses in the backyard. He pulled my canvas shell off and carefully removed my broken ribs. I never saw them again but weeks later Bob installed brand new ones from Maine. He tightened or replaced all my screws were tightened or replaced, varnished my wooden parts, installed a new yolk, re-wove my stead, and carefully applied a canvas/fiberglass shell, followed by a bright red coat of paint. I was ready and excited to be off to the water. [[Generally speaking, avoid the passive voice. "Someone does something" reads better than "Something was done."]]
Bob strapped me on top of his 1956 Chevy and, along with some friends, left Minneapolis and drove north to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area. I felt the car jumping up and down with joy and anticipation; we were all happy. Arriving at Ely seemed to take forever. Except for a few bugs on my new paint job, I didn’t mind. [[Didn't mind what?]] The group loved to sing camp songs. Here is a favorite of mine:
Our paddle’s keen and bright,
Flashing with silver,
Follow the wild goose flight,
Dip, dip and swing.
There were many car rides, lakes and portages, and some rivers included in our adventures. One thing I liked best was to be pulled out of the water and set on the big slab of ancient rock, red side up, near the campsite. I liked listening to the folks who appreciated the wildness and the important role of the canoe.
One friend (by the name of Jan) became a permanent sidekick to Bob. One day they strapped me to a new car and took me to a new state. In Virginia, I resided in a garage and was rarely taken to a small nearby lake. After a few years Bob and Jan took me to a big Minnesota lake called Cass. I spent many happy years there, hanging out with the other boats, exploring the lake, portaging to Lake Windigo, and taking a trip down the Mississippi River. After Bob's and Jan's children learned to paddle me, I had one last trip to the Boundary Waters.
The following years were much slower and quieter - maybe too quiet - and after Bob's loss my family decided that I should go live with a new family, who would enjoy me and take me on new adventures.
Two lovely women from the west side of Star Island took me home. They decided to restore and refinish me to my original skin of canvas. Now a kind, knowledgeable man, called Rodger, has me in his workshop. What a craftsman he is, meticulously forming each replacement part. I am so excited to be on the water again. Watch for me and wave hello. “Dip, dip and swing.”
Hurry up, Rodger!
---------------
Editing is a lot easier after adequate sleep, FYI. :-) Also, if this gets into the Loon, I may post Aunt Jan's final copy here at some point, both to have a version without editorial clutter and to see which suggestions she kept and which she didn't. (Hmm. Come to think of it, Aunt Jan asked Vicky to edit the story as well. I should get a copy of her comments for the record. *plots idly*)