My mother was how shall I say it, was most relaxed about raising us kids and did not seem to worry about the thousands of things that might do a kid in. We were pretty much left to our selves and seemed to survive despite my mom’s laid-back approach to survival.
One afternoon when Dawna was about four and I was about five, we rowed over to the booming ground, and no one being near by, Dawna climbed out of the boat and onto the big floating logs that were dumped into the saltwater to be later towed to the sawmills in Vancouver. Dawna not realizing that floating logs move quite easily, had climbed onto two logs placing one foot on each. This is not a good thing to do even as an adult but especially not as a kid. What makes it worse is that floating logs tend to roll and can be hard to stand on even with both feet on the same log. I can still hear Dawna saying as the logs slowly move farther and farther apart, “Oh! Oh! Oh!” As inch-by-inch the logs kept moving away from each other and them splash! In she went. My biggest fear even at five was that Dawna might get caught under the logs as they immediately came together once she fell in. She however managed to hold to the side of one of the logs and we were by God’s good providence and lots of hollering, save by one of the men who just happened to working on the other side of the boom who came rushing over jumping from log to log just in time to grab Dawna, before the log rolled that she was hanging onto, and she disappeared underneath it forever. Mom was glad to see us when we got back home but I can’t even remember her being upset when Dawna walked into the house, soaking wet. I suspect in her mind it was a lesson learned and not to worry, as it would not be repeated.
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