I was shocked Aug. 26 when I read online that Dolly Parton had died.

“That’s impossible,” I thought. “I’ll turn on the TV to see if it’s true.”

It was. Breaking into tears, I had to sit down, unable to process the idea that Dolly was gone. Though I never met her, it felt like a part of me was gone, too.

To say 9-11 was a seminal moment in American history is a huge understatement. Most people of school age in 2001 can tell you exactly where they were that day. Though it’s 25 years since it happened, the events are seared into my memory as they must be in yours.

As I have mentioned in previous columns, I became hopelessly bewitched by the spirits of long-dead lumberjacks when I joined the staff of the Holt and Balcom Logging Camp in Lakewood. The camp was badly deteriorated, and subsequent efforts to restore it took seven long years.

In the early 1970s, scientists were sounding warnings about climate change which seemed far-fetched. Out of curiosity, I attended an event featuring a man who’d become known as Earth Day senator; Wisconsin’s Gaylord Nelson.

I was starstruck. Sen. Nelson was congenial and charismatic, respectfully listening to comments and answering tough questions. I stayed for the meet-and-greet, a life-altering decision.

When Jon and I bought Otter Run in Townsend in 1993, it was advertised as 87 acres on the Townsend Flowage. As recorded on the survey map, the property is composed of three distinct parcels. Perfect. Ah, nothing’s perfect. Thirty acres of it is underwater so only 57 acres actually belong to us.

It’s a stunningly beautiful summer night on the Townsend Flowage. The lake is smooth as glass, a mirror reflecting the full moon lording it over an inky sky. I can hear music from across the lake. I sure wish it was coming from Little Tipsy.