Back in grade school, we stole a canoe from a shed and paddled out to a small island in the middle of the reservoir lake.
We named it West Muenster, even though we lived east of Muenster Texas.
And none of us liked Muenster cheese.
We only liked the name of it.
Every Saturday, we’d bring wood and nails and tools to the island, and we’d work on our clubhouse.
Until one day, the canoe was gone from the shed, and when we looked through binoculars out at the island, the clubhouse was gone.
So we used the shed instead.