Dear Boundless Families:
Your kids return from the Dumoine River in Quebec this afternoon. Two nights ago, I travelled to the river to surprise them. I arrived at their campsite bearing a bribe so I might be accepted into their tribe. Chocolate bars!
As my canoe glided toward the sandy beach, I witnessed an unlikely baseball game. A third of the group had fashioned a “ball” out of duct tape, grabbed a stick for a bat, and were busy emulating the Blue Jays on their World Series run.
Dylan and Evan were digging a hole about fifty metres from the campfire so the group could later dump their dishwater.
Alexis was rummaging along the shoreline in search of cool rocks. She glanced up, saw some old guy approaching, and, thinking I was Québécois, called out, “Bonjour!”
What a beam of light that girl is.
When she realized it was me, she shrieked, “It’s Steve!” The rest of the kids scurried to the beach like curious primates, greeting me with hugs and mockeries one saves for an endearing grandpa. The chocolate was hardly necessary.
I climbed up to the hearth where a raging fire was underway. They were heating rocks for a downriver sauna. Soon, these younglings would sweat beneath a piercing blue sky, untroubled by a single cloud. The rippling water would dance around them, shimmering mirrors of light. Just like all of us.
What I beheld was a group of contented teens, whiling away time, and in doing so, erasing its very existence.
I thought immediately of Stevie Wonder’s Innervisions and his haunting question:
“And what I’d like to know, oh oh, is could a place like this exist so beautiful?
Or do we have to find our wings and fly away?”
Parents, your kids were in absolute paradise these past few days. All have found their place in this tribe.
This is just the beginning.
Warmly,
Steven
Above Image AI Generated
