People Around the Lake

One of my friends commented on our lake house before we left that it sounds like the “place where there is absolutely nothing, but everything to do at the same time.” That’s pretty close.

I ordered 10 tons of sand, at a gravel pit about a mile from the lake. It was actually behind the lake – separated by the tree line. The people at the quarry had never heard of this lake. I had to give them directions to get the truck here. When they arrived, they were bewildered. How had this lake slipped by without notice? They have lived here most of their life. But like I said, in the land of 101 lakes, this one is small, and it does get lost. And we like it this way.

The closest WiFi access spot is 15 minutes away. That doesn’t sound bad – except, here, time measurement doesn’t really exist. Three hours can pass, but it will feel like 15 minutes. Cell phone service is spotty. Taking a drive into town to get supplies takes about two hours. No one – I mean NO ONE – (I’ve checked) has WiFi service on the lake. But, they do have their satellite dishes.

Here, you move in hours – there are no minutes – and they are divided by the location of the sun and the type of weather. Being able to jump in the car and move back into civilization to find WiFi access is almost like planning a trip to the moon – because it does seem to involve an atmospheric change – that necessitates careful planning.

The only people we see are the neighbors who drive by on their boats. Yesterday, there were four. I am surprised, after living in an urban area for so long, that I am content here.

At other times though, there are lots of people around. If Uncle Bud and Aunt Joyce come up, it’s an entirely different lake experience. My brother’s wife’s family has a lake house on a lake about 5 minutes away from here, and that too brings a whole other dimension to the lake experience.

There was a “lake” party last weekend, and I met many of my neighbors. Some quotes of the evening:
“I started coming here as a baby, and now I drive back every summer – it’s a 16 hour drive.”
“When we moved in, our place was just a shack –the slats in the walls were stuffed with cardboard.”
“Our parents had a ‘new’ lake house, but we always liked playing in the shack next door, because it was more fun.”
“We bought our place nine years ago, and we drive back every summer. It takes us three days to get here, and we stay two months.”
They come from all over the country – Tennessee, Colorado, Chicago, Indiana, Texas, Michigan and Ohio.

And yet, despite its reclusiveness, there is a huge white tent erected on someone’s front lawn for a 50th wedding anniversary party. There is a band. And I’m now enjoying an elegant fireworks display across the water.

And a few stop by to pick up the boys and take them for a ride, so they can go tubing.

At night, there is a camp fire, where many of us mingle together for lots of s’mores.

More lake house posts, here.