I went back into the woods to find the tree. It was a ritual thing now and one of the main reasons we camped this lake at least once every summer. My father's father had harmlessly started the tradition over twenty years ago when he first carved his name in that big chestnut oak tree. He did the same the next year and the next. When he started bringing my dad with him the tree started taking on two names at a time. Every year since 1946 had been marked on that tree by our family. Though others went camping with us they were never invited to carve into that tree. One year, about 30 years ago or so, my dad and I had made a sign to place in front of the tree declaring it as ours. That was the year my first son was born. This year will mark be my thirty fourth carve in Thompsons Oak and the first for my oldest grandson. We have marked the passing of summers in that tree and we often sit by it and reminisce on summers past. I'm glad my granddad took out his pocket knife that summer of '46 and started a legacy which continues to this day.
