Lazy hippies

Got on a kind of weird Lasqueti jag tonight.
I dream a lot at night, but one of the things I dream about most is Lasqueti (albeit in really weird capacities).
It's strange and sad that, because my father has died, Lasqueti is also missing from my life.
I've been going to Lasqueti since before I was born.  I was there when it was just a cabin in the bush that my dad built with his friend, with an outhouse.  I was there when my dad moved a house from Marine Drive in Vancouver, by barge, to Lasqueti.  Power lines had to be taken town.  The local newspaper covered it and there I was in the photo: a chubby blond kid in a puffy jacket.
Lasqueti, for me, was a touchstone.  It was my summer vacation.  It was the time that I spent with my dad.  It was logistics and planning and it was valuing natural resources and power because there was no electricity there.  It was ingenuity and thinking outside the box and preservation.
There was an article in the local paper recently about a woman who took her children out of high school and they all decided to travel the world together.  They went to some very remote and somewhat scary places and met with very few problems.  Upon their return I had to ask Michael how these kids were supposed to be re-integrated into Western culture, where the iPhone5 is king and we can't go 24 hours without showering and obesity is an epidemic.
I hope that, in my life, I will have a place to go to like Lasqueti.  Maybe it will even be Lasqueti itself.
I can't tell you how much I miss it.  I have thirty plus years of memories there: of the sand and the pampass grass and the eagles, seals, kayaking, the smell of the grass in the summer, the dust on the roads, the ebb and flow of the tides, watching the sun set, mosquitoes, being with family, quiet, the stars at night.
I miss a lot of things today.