Part 3 — The Seawall Block
The sledge sat quietly on the ground while my light moved around the dry cavity. At the center was a green metal canister the size of a lunch pail, sealed with wax and wrapped in oilcloth.
A brass plate was welded to the lid. It read, Lake Association Time Capsule, sealed 1962, to be opened in 2062. Beneath that, in smaller letters, were the names of seventeen founding families.
The couple who hired me walked down the bank and read the plate together. The husband whistled softly. He said, We almost knocked it into the water. I told him, That is why the wall was poured double thick, to protect it.
The builders of the original wall had known what they were doing. They set the capsule where erosion could not reach, and they made the concrete thick enough that anyone who tapped it would know something was inside.
We phoned the lake association, which was still active, and the current president drove out that evening. He was a retired postmaster, and he brought a copy of the original charter. The plate matched the charter exactly.
The wall was thick in that one place not to keep people out but to keep a promise safe for a hundred years.
The association voted that night to leave the capsule sealed. They asked me to rebuild the section around it with a small access plate, so it could be checked every decade without breaking anything.
I rebuilt the wall with a stainless steel hatch and a new concrete cap, and I engraved the date of the repair on the inside edge. The association added a second small box beside the first, filled with letters from current residents.
At the dedication, all seventeen founding families were represented by grandchildren and great grandchildren. A little girl read aloud the names from the brass plate, and the whole crowd clapped for people who had been gone for decades.
The homeowners kept the lake house and joined the association that summer. They now host the annual dock supper, with a banner hung on that very seawall.
Every time I drive past the lake, I think of the wall that was almost broken. I think about how much of the past is kept safe by simply being a little bit stubborn.