The Shack

The shack was built by my grandpa, lovingly known by all as Pa, early in the 1920s. He collected driftwood to build the original structure. The place had no running water and no electricity but to me it was heaven on earth. It’s on a small marsh island and the only way to get there is by boat.

When you entered the shack you’d typically come in through the front porch. From there you’d enter the main room – this was a combination living room / dining room. Off the main room was the bunk room. The lower bunks were full size beds and the upper twin. Six could comfortably sleep in this room. Off the back of the main room was the kitchen, complete with gas stove and refrigerator.

Potable (but not palatable) fresh water came from the outside well when the tide was in. On low tide the water pressure would not even allow for a trickle. As a young child baths consisted of heating this fresh water on the stove. Sometime during my adolescence a large black drum was installed atop the powder room. Filling this drum early in the day allowed for warm showers in the evening. When the hand pump was working with some effort water could be pumped from the well to fill the shower. When it wasn’t we would form a bucket brigade. Filling a bucket from the well and passing it up the line until it got to the person at the top, who would dump it in the drum. The water has very high iron levels, and hence has a tendency to rust. Getting the last shower from the drum could leave you rather rusty looking.

Because there was no electricity, there was no TV or radio or even electric lights. But still there was much to do. We would swim and row and fish. Or we might pick wild rosemary from the meadow to create a natural bouquet. Or perhaps go fly a kite. There was no end to the way we could entertain ourselves.

A nightly ritual was to go out eeling. I’d gone a few times but was never successful. However, I typically had extremely vivid dreams after and would start acting them out.

One such dream I awoke screaming “I hit something. I hit something”. I was sleeping in one of the top bunks. I sat up fast and hard. And whack my head into the ceiling. The hole remained for many years.

Another time I dreamed I’d gone out with my brother and as the super jerk he could be, he had left me in the dark in the row boat. Not wanting to wake the family I whispered into the dark. Reaching my hand into the dark, I touched the wall. It took a minute by as I came fully awake I realized I wasn’t in the boat but already in bed. Safely, ready to go back to sleep.

There are so many legacy shack moments. Hopefully, others will share.