The kid in the cowboy shirt with the heavily laden stringer, that’s me.

This photo popped up when we waged battle against the clutter in the spare room a couple of weekends ago.

Some call them “guest” rooms, but until the purging, we called ours “be careful in there.” Oh, and for any friends or relatives reading this, we are once again open for company.

As one might expect, the photo brought back a stringer load of summer memories. We still live in this house, though I have no idea where the wooden walkway went.

Fishing on Saturday used to be a frequent summer activity, done early before chores … unless the chore was something urgent like stemming a leaky faucet or repairing a basement window that broke spontaneously somehow from something not related to me, honest.

Lawn mowing, even with a sea of yellow dandelions, never merited a delay in fishing. I still love blooming dandies and have an aversion to basement windows.

This photo gives me that “good old days” nostalgia that people of my age get when they see themselves as people of an earlier age.

Those days, those earlier days, were filled with a string of adventures followed by more adventures. Perhaps it was because you almost always were trying something for the first time - drawing lipstick circles on your face gives you clown cheeks all day, who knew? - or because then your To Do list had more things in the Want To column than in the Have To column.

I do recall that next to “Can I have another hamster?”, my most repeated question to my parents was, “Can we go somewhere?”

Not “Can we go to Disney World?” No, this wanderlust was easily satisfied with a visit to the cousins (most all the relatives lived nearby) or with a trip to the drugstore (comic book territory).

So why don’t I get in those mini-vacations, those getaways for an hour or a day, anymore?

Could be because my parents granted the permission to forgo the Have To column long enough to get in a Want To or two.

Today when I ponder my list and I ask myself, “Can we go somewhere?” my strict answer frequently seems to be, for instance, “Maybe, after you clean out the guest room.”

When I rediscovered the old fish-holding me, I knew that I need to make time for photos now to look back on when I’m older - in a year or two - to remember fondly these Good Old Days.

When the winds of uncertain times blow - sometimes blowing you right over - the anchors of our past and of our place, like the solid roots of the tree on our cover, give you strength to weather the passing storms. And we Lake Superior residents know that even the strongest storms do pass.

It’s simpler if someone gives you permission, so I’m telling you, “Go ahead; go somewhere, do something.”

It can be as easy as finding fish in a barrel at the Great Lakes Aquarium, where you can also touch a sturgeon, chuckle at some otters and play with the wave-making machine.

Or sneak in a day or more away to a familiar place of fond, strong memories … ones with well-rooted trees. Do go, it’s okay.

Once you read this issue, I frankly don’t know how you’ll be able to resist anyway. There are great things to try in Thunder Bay, chances to see sailboats in the Trans Superior Race, a sampler of attractions in Lake Superior’s backyard (an hour or two down the road), gardens to tour, new restaurants to try, great places to stay … and that’s only a few of the pages. Better get started now.

Those dandelions will just have to wait.

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