The Weekend at Lena Creek

For you Bethel people, here’s a sneak peak at tomorrow’s Table Tent article. For you non-Bethel people, here’s a sample of some Table Tent material:

So how was your weekend? Did you do any of that homework? Study for finals? Attack those end of the semester projects? I spent my weekend playing Trivial Pursuit in a field of dandelions, boiling creek water to wash the dishes, and waking up to a tick crawling up my leg. Six friends and I escaped to an unoccupied farm in Wisconsin. What does unoccupied mean? They tried turning on the water and it broke. Creek water for us. We decided to ignore the responsibility of homework, projects, and tests one last time before the true joy of finals set in. We ran barefoot in the green grass, tossed a Frisbee (some better than others), witnessed the dreaded Aerobe-eating trees at work, tromped through the marsh, and played a quick game of full contact croquet. Some of us scaled the heights of a tree, while others stuck wild flowers in their creek-washed braids. We laid on blankets soaking in the constellations and the dew, debating the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything. What did I learn this weekend? I learned that the double-O in “007” means that James Bond has a license to kill. I learned that old gas stations make really keen coffee houses. I learned that the answer is 42. And I learned that sometimes homework can wait. Maybe Henry David Thoreau wasn’t crazy. Cold creek water washed the sleep from my eyes Sunday morning, and I couldn’t help but shout, “Good morning!” Sometimes life flashes by in a mix of faces, assignments, and TV shows and we forget to have fun. We miss the beauty for fear of soggy sneakers, grass stains, or-God forbid-looking stupid. We fly so fast we think the call to live life to the fullest is cheesy, and we move on-only moving, but never living. Life is more. Be slightly crazy and ‘suck the marrow from life,’ stand atop your desk, flail your arms and scream as you sail down a hill. You have a standing invitation to the birthplace of apathy, but no one will care if you don’t make the social appearance.

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