(Originally published in The Plain Talker, September 2006)

Other than the fact that it is home to exactly none of my childhood memories, the ways in which our new cabin is worse than the old one are few, and mostly negligible. There is the lawn at the new place, but thanks to this summer's weather, it hasn't been an issue; it reminds me more of desert scrubland than lush southern vegetation, and so-- most importantly-- I haven't had to mow it in months.

  And the lack of trees (which makes the lawn possible) and the hot dry summer (which makes the lawn mostly dead) have teamed up to make our new pathway incredibly hot. I'm not one for wearing shoes when I'm at the lake, but I have to admit that the thought of something between the soles of my feet and the griddle-like surface of the path is sometimes tempting. But then I wouldn't get to enjoy the smell of cooking bacon every time I walked to or from the dock, and I'd miss that. (My feet wouldn't miss it at all, but they don't make the decisions except in cases of extreme panic, when I can't control where they run to.) Besides, if the path ever gets too hot to tolerate, I can just walk alongside it, as long as I keep an eye out for cacti.

  I also miss our sandy beach, though I always knew that we were lucky to have one. We have half of a somewhat sandy beach now; on one half of the dock there is a soft, mostly sand bottom; on the other is a minefield of large, slippery rocks. There are two sets of stairs on the shallow water part of the dock; a nice, safe set leads to the treacherous rocks, and a rickety, treacherous set leads to the pleasant sand. Which makes sense; the set leading to the slippery rocky beach was probably never used, so why wouldn't those stairs be like new.

But the biggest difference, one I never cared about until last month, is the proximity of our neighbors. At our old cabin, there were no neighbors within shouting distance (except on the quietest of days, and it has been a long time since we had one of those.) Now, though, we have another dock not far from ours at all, and the geography of our new slough is better for sounds carrying, so even the cabins on the other side of the slough are within earshot, even though they are no closer than any cabins in our old slough.

But like I said, I never cared about that; the people across the slough have great taste in music, so listening to their stereo has been pleasant. And the people closest to us aren't noisy or obnoxious or unpleasant at all, so proximity hasn't been a problem at all.

But I can't say that they think the same about us, at least not anymore. Because in mid-August, my old college buddies got together for our annual reunion, which has become known as the Gathering of Evil. (I'd like to think that one of us came up with the name, but I can't swear to it.) They're a good-hearted, hard-working, educated bunch… but fun loving, loud, and more than a little bit obnoxious once the "fun" starts flowing.

I had a few concerns as this year's Gathering drew closer. First and foremost, I was worried that some of them would get hopelessly lost. After all, most of them could get to the old place in their sleep (something we all managed to do at least once over the years) but they weren't going to the old place; I had to hope that they had printed out the directions I sent, or at least memorized the phone number, otherwise they could be driving around for hours, or days.

(Fortunately, getting lost was not a problem for any of them, except for Ramon, who decided that the best way to the lake from the Atlanta airport was via Birmingham. But that would have been wrong at the old cabin, too. It does illustrate why Ramon always made it a point to bum a ride anytime we were headed up to the lake, though.)

My other concern was the nearby neighbors, and-- more importantly-- their young, impressionable children. They were about to be subjected to some loud voices, and no telling what words those voices would be shouting.

Late Friday afternoon, I was relieved to see that the neighbors weren't there. I was surprised-- they seemed to be there every weekend up until then-- but figured that, with young children, they were affected by the ridiculously early start dates that most schools seem to be torturing the kids with. I hated it for them-- no kid should miss valuable summer days-- but knew that it might be for the best, especially for them.

Starting in late afternoon the gang started to arrive, and there was the usual joyful noise as we caught up, swapped stories, and generally released the tension that had been building since the last gathering. By "joyful noise" I mean "ear-splitting din," and though my concerns about the neighbors had been limited to what they might hear while we were on the dock, I started to wonder if the raucous noise coming from inside our cabin wouldn't easily carry to next door. I was even more relieved that it was just one more thing I didn't have to worry about, since they had picked a good weekend to not come to the lake.

Eventually, the party moved from inside (where the food was) to the porch, and eventually the dock. By this time, I was worried about ALL of the neighbors; it was late enough that the early-to-bed (say, before midnight types) might have their sleep disturbed by our excessive noise. Still, though, it would be nothing compared to what the closest neighbors would be subjected to, were they there.

It was then, right about the time the noise hit a high point, the language a low point and the stupidity a dangerous point ("I'm gonna go for a midnight Sea-Doo ride! Whoo-hoo!") that I saw the light in the window next door; the neighbors were at their cabin… and they were hearing us at our worst. What an introduction.

The next day, one of the loudest of our clan went over and made a more formal introduction, and apology. Surprisingly and happily, our new neighbors were cool with the goings-on at our place; after all, we were just a bunch of college friends cutting loose, and what better place to do it than the lake?

I wonder, though… were they warned that this is an annual event? I guess they'll find out in a year or so!

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