Coming Home

When I was around 8 or nine, we were lucky enough to live on a wooded acreage on Cedar Lake Road in Lake Villa, Illinois. I don't think that I was the normal type of kid. My sister Renee and brother Eric were more active and got a long so much better. They played and watched TV and shared many more of the same interests. I was a kid that loved to read and learn things and, even at that age, wanted to know what made people tick. I was so sensitive and couldn't understand why other people weren't. Renee would throw my stuffed animals and I would cry because she was hurting them. To me, everything and everyone had feelings. I took it upon myself to try to make everyone happy or at least not cause any problems.

We didn't have friends out there on Cedar Lake Road. Our closest neighbor was the Sons of Norway resort and we knew better to go over there. Life at the house was often tumultuous. Even at my age, I felt deeply the tension around me. I wandered around the "yard" and liked to go out into the trees and create my own world. Sometimes in the fall, I would take the fallen leaves and arrange them into "walls" of a house. I would lay down in my "room" and look up at the trees. The wind would blow lightly and the top of the trees swayed and whispered reassurances to me. I would sigh and feel safe. Maybe that is why I like the Northwoods so much.