For instance, the cabins didn’t have numbers. When someone new came they’d get lost. Or come to me and ask which cabin belonged to so-and-so. I’d have to take them there, because they wouldn’t find it even if I gave them directions. I’d even make mistakes myself about who lived in which cabin. You saw for yourself, a lot of the cabins look the same. And in fact pretty much first thing I decided to number all the cabins. Having numbers would make things much easier. You’d think I’d have been given a round of applause. Not on your life. It was nothing but an uphill struggle. To start with, everyone wanted the lowest possible number. Then someone hit on the idea of numbering the cabins in the order they were built. With that kind of arrangement no one would ever have been able to find any cabin. Number one would be over by the woods, say, then number two would be on the far side of the lake. Plus, they’d never be able to agree on whose cabin was built first or second or tenth, because at the beginning the same company put up all the cabins. And not one after another, but depending on who greased the right palms or knew someone in the firm. Then they started discussing which side of the lake the numbering should start from. And they couldn’t agree on that either, because the people on this side wanted the numbers to begin here, then to continue on the far side. While the folks over there wanted the opposite.
What would you have done in my place? I wanted them to decide it among themselves, because I reckoned that if they didn’t reach an understanding on their own, there’d never be agreement. They’d always be bothered by the numbering, that they didn’t live at the number they wanted to live at. Besides, they were their cabins, their numbers. I just said I’d buy the paint, cut out some stencils and paint the numbers on. It almost drove me nuts. I said to them, do you want me to paint the numbers on? Because someone has to. Then in that case they’ll begin here and end here. And both sides of the lake together, not separately.
Do you think that was an end of it? No such luck. When it came down to it, no one wanted to have number thirteen because that’s unlucky. Except what kind of order is it when one number’s missing? Someone could come and be looking for number thirteen. Nothing I could do, I had them draw straws, and it came out that now number thirteen is between number twenty-six and number twenty-seven. But so be it, I guess no order can be perfect.
Another thing, they’d throw their trash out wherever they wanted, they mostly chucked it into the woods. When you went walking there it was an offense to the woods. At one time the woods didn’t even have any sticks left. I made them bring trash bags for their trash, then take the bags back to the city to dispose of. Cities are beyond saving anyway. If I ever find even a beer can or a soda bottle or anything, the dogs will sniff out who dropped it, and bring it back to their doorstep.
Then sunbathing, they can’t just go sunbathing right away or for as long as they want, there’s a warning on the signboards to say they have to do it gradually, and bald people have to wear a cap. One time it happened that someone figured he’d get a full tan on the first day, and we ended up having to call an ambulance.
I made two signboards. I put up two posts, one on each side of the lake, fixed the signboards on the posts, then each season I write what they can and can’t do on the boards. Whenever anyone arrives for the first time they have to read what’s written there, because every season there’s someone new, and also I change some of the wording to make it clearer, so later no one can claim it’s ambiguous.
Would you like to see the signboards? They’re propped up through there, in the hallway. That’s right, I take them down in the off-season. Maybe you could suggest something to add. There’s never any end to order. All right, maybe another time, if you come during the season. You’ll see for yourself then. I’m thinking of making two more. Actually, there really should be one in front of every cabin. Or even better, everyone should carry a sign like that on their back. That way they couldn’t claim they didn’t have time to read it.
Why do I do it? Let me ask you, do you know people? I get the impression you sort of don’t. Would you be able to turn a blind eye to all these things? And what, just let it all happen? That that’s how people are made? Then why were they made at all? They didn’t have to be. It’s easy enough to imagine a world without people. Why not? You say that in such a case the world would have no imagination? Perhaps our imagination is our misfortune, and by the same token it’s the misfortune of the world? Maybe I’m not as strong as you. I can’t say, I don’t know you. But here at least, in this place, it can’t be so. I could be indifferent to all this if I weren’t looking after it. But once I took the job on, even though I didn’t have to, it became an entirely different matter.
For instance, since last season they’re not allowed to take children out into the deep water. They’re not my kids, but I couldn’t stand to see some father or mother taking a child into deep water to teach them to swim. Don’t be scared, don’t be scared. That’s not how to stop a kid from being afraid. One time a little one nearly drowned. The father accidentally swallowed a mouthful of water, and he let go of the child. Before anyone could have swum out there it would have been all over. Luckily Rex and Paws jumped in and pulled it out.
I’ve stopped allowing adults just the same, if they’re not good swimmers. I was even thinking of requiring everyone to get a swimming certificate. How else can you know if someone really can swim when they say they can. I mean, I can’t stand in front of everyone and check. Maybe one day I’ll organize races and everyone can show whether they’re a good swimmer or not. You can’t mess around with water. Water, fire, destiny.
But there’s one thing I haven’t been able to do anything about. I haven’t been able to stop them having fights and beating up on their wives. I say wives, it makes no difference whether it’s their wife or not. There are guys that bring a different woman here every season. But I know my boundaries. There’s others have someone different with them every weekend. Last time it was an older woman, this time he’s with someone much younger. You can’t help seeing. Some of them even swap women among the cabins. You can’t help noticing that one of them was staying in one cabin and now she’s in a different one, then two or three weeks later she’s in one of the very furthest ones. I don’t pry. It’d never even occur to me to ask one guy or another, So is this your new wife? And I won’t listen when other people come and complain about these wives or whatever they are.
One time they came to tell me that in one of the cabins, forgive me for not saying which one, the man was always beating his wife or non-wife. It was always in the middle of the night. And that I should do something about it. But what was I supposed to do? I can’t just go there and say, stop beating her. I don’t even have the right to say, your wife or your non-wife, whichever it is. Myself, I’d never strike a woman. But how can you explain it to a type like that? What am I to him? I just take care of the place, I let myself be hired. Or if I wanted to write it on the signboards, what am I supposed to write? Beating of wives and non-wives prohibited? There are things that don’t belong on signboards.