When Your Scribe was masquerading as an athlete (basketball, tennis), I did not like to sit on the bench.

Now, though, the bench at the cabin (shown above) is a fine place to vegetate and contemplate. This is my new perch, and though the photo is pitiful, the idea is sublime.

It sits at the edge of the forest (which is destined never to be thinned, owing to numerous bad backs of the woodsmen I approach). This location offers a good view of the cabin, the woods and the flowers and shrubs that I have planted. (I promise myself to produce a better picture than this).

Actually, the purchase and placement of the bench is just Step One in the larger plan. And that is to develop a remembrance of family members whose lives are not memorialized by tangible markers. A list would include my grandmother, Edith Carter, my parents, Clint and Eloise Hendrickson, my aunt, Beatrice Hostetter, and my daughter, Vanessa Hendrickson.

I plan to start with an engraved plaque, and attach it to the back of this modest sitting tool. And if I can sustain some momentum, I will order a granite memorial, perhaps a small bench, and have it inscribed with the names and living dates of these dear people. The idea is to have a permanent resting place.

I have put off this project for as long as the cabin has been there - five years. Though the motive is noble, I find the task itself very sad - which is no doubt the reason I keep putting it off.

The bench is the first step. I vow to continue the project until there is a handsome granite marker, inscribed with names and dates. They deserve their due, and I have got to do it.

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