Rock the Raft (My Aunt Madge's raft)
Aunt Madge Cronan-Ryerse Lately, I’ve used a raft anchored out on Lake Michigan, for a much-needed metaphor. I needed something to give me a visual for my challenges and aspirations. I needed a strong one! When I was growing up my Aunt Madge had a large, wooden raft anchored out in the bay on Lake Michigan. You could see it from her picture window, (in a cabin eventually made into a house) on a sandy, grassy hill above the beach. My memory intensifies with every one of my senses. Her raft had large, red, rusting metal barrels under it to keep it afloat. A marvelous wall-less room made of large planks of wood sat above the barrels. Exposed to sun and eyes. Wooden steps led from the water. There was a sturdy anchor to keep it from being torn away by waves. When I was under the raft the barrels seemed to deflect most of the small waves. The under part felt safe to me. It was shaded from the bright summer sky while I tread in the water, hanging on. Most of my body was camouflaged and...