The End of a Family Tradition

The End of a Family Tradition

The Conway family had been living summers by the lake for five generations – first camping in tents, and then in the lake-wide population of 12, nearly identical cottages. And everyone with a cottage on the lake was related in some way. There was a culture to the lake that had developed long ago, and was still strong in the 21^st century. There was a predictability of activities that had a security to it for family members, at least by the time that they had become the senior generation. Change was not wanted by those who had been there for years.

And there were rituals, rites of passage that people growing up ‘on the lake’ had to go through to be fully fledged members of the cottage society. – first fish, first swim across the narrow part of the lake. But the most important one was ‘the night on the island’. There was a small, rocky island in the middle of the lake. When the wind was strong, the waves could crash most of the way across the rocks and sand and bushes that made up the island. There was room on the island for the tent that was a permanent resident there, but not much more.

When a Conway boy turned 14 years old, on August 30 of that year he was to spend a night by himself on the island, from light to light, through all the night’s darkness and the imagination that often went with it. This tradition began with the first Conway boy, who stayed through a storm. It was the  stuff of yearly legendary tale-telling. Late August was a time of many storms on the lake. And comparisons were many as those boys who were now men who had gone through the ritual spoke in bold terms of what they had to endure during their night on the island.

Boys of every generation had participated in the ritual. Some, maybe most, were reluctant, but every one did it, and survived. This year’s boy, Danny, really didn’t want to go. On his first solo canoe trip, a few years earlier, a big wave had caught his canoe broadside, tipped him over, and he swallowed a lot of water. Fortunately for him, there were others in boats who saw him and came to his rescue. But he could never forget his experience.

 A week earlier, on a windy day, Danny had summoned up the courage to tell his father that he did not want to participate in the night on the island. When he said this to his father, he was told simply, bluntly, “But it is a family tradition. You do not want to shame our branch of the family. You will go on your night on the island. I did. Your uncles and grandfather did. Your older cousins did. We all did. So will you.”

Danny hung his head down, just looking at his feet as if they were interesting to look at, and just said, an “okay,” that was barely heard. Only his short, slicked-up blond hair stood up in defiance.

           Danny then went down to the dock, where his twin sister Annie was fishing. He had shared his feelings about the event before, and she did not judge him, but responded with an understanding that the twins often had. She did not tell him what to do, but she made a suggestion that seemed right to him.

The Time Comes

The time comes. The light is fading, the darkness is ready to replace it. The small canoe is waiting, as are thirty to forty people who have varying degrees of kinship with Danny. Some are encouraging. Others are commenting on how strong the wind looks, and how much more powerful it is going to be at night “Just like the big storm of 1973.”

           The candidate for the rite of passage walks towards the canoe, wearing light rain gear, including a rather awkward looking oversized rain hat, gets into the boat, and waves the paddle in the generations- long tradition of the one departing to spend the night on the island. The candidate says nothing, just waves the paddle. That is slightly unusual, as usually the boy who heads out shouts his defiance to the lake and its dangers.

           The bystanders stand by the shore and wave back, some remembering when it was their time, years, even generations ago.

           The canoe and the paddler disappears, as does the sun. The folks on the shore lose sight of the traveller, and head back to the tables and chairs in front of the cottage, to toast the traveller, and their cottage culture, and whatever was a good reason to drink.    

An Ending and a Beginning

It is mid-morning. A crowd has gathered at the dock, awaiting the arrival of the one who has braved the lake that was whipped about in the darkness. There is loud commentary about the conditions not being as dangerous as “when I spent the night on the island.”

The first to spot the traveller loudly announces the sighting of the canoe. Danny’s father moves to the end of the dock to be the first to greet the successful candidate. The crowd commences their loud applause and shouts of congratulations. They wake a few still in bed because they drank too much the night before.

As everyone is facing the lake, they do not see that there is someone emerging from the forest, someone who has spent the night in a wooden-floored tent that has been there for ages, but is seldom used.. They would be surprised by who it is

As the paddler comes nearer, she removes her rain hat, and shakes her long blond hair loose. It is Annie Conway, Danny’s twin sister. She was the one who had braved the night on the island. As people begin to wonder where Danny is, he approaches from behind them, applauding the achievement of his sister. He can be easily heard as a quiet has fallen upon the crowd like a cold mist. 

           Danny and Annie’s father is speechless, being taken completely by surprise. The family tradition has ended in his first interpretation of the situation.

           But has it really? As Annie got out of the canoe, she is helped up by her twin brother, with the support of the mother of the two. The family tradition has not really ended. It has merely changed, taking on a different, more inclusive nature.