My Love for Lakes, Then & Now

It all started with Lake Tippecanoe in Leesburg, Indiana.

Gazing out at Devil’s Lake at the edge of the Oregon coastline, the air is cool, the water is still, and the swallows dart back and forth overhead. It brings back fond memories of the first time I saw a lake and experienced how soothing it can be. My grandparents on my father’s side — Grandma and Charlie — lived on Lake Tippecanoe, aka Lake Tippy, in Leesburg, Indiana.

At least once a year, my dad would take my brother and me to my grandparents to visit. The “boys” (my grandfather, dad and brother) would rise early to go fishing. Meanwhile, I sat at the kitchen table and chatted as Grandma made breakfast. The front of their black-shuttered, one-story white house faced the 880-acre lake, so Grandma and I stepped outside into the thick, dewy grass to wait for the boys to return with their catch of the day — usually Blue Gill and Yellow Perch. Some mornings, Grandma would let me feed the ducks bread crusts from the shore. If an adult was with me, I could feed the ducks from the dock.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, we watched boats come in and out of the channel — fishing boats, pontoons and pleasure boats. Once the boys returned from their outing to join us, we waded in the lake with our pants rolled above our ankles, and skipped smooth, wet rocks into the waves, creating even more ripples. I was the youngest and shortest in the family, so my rock-skipping talents were seriously lacking, but I enjoyed every minute at the lake, even when Charlie called me Suzy and my babydoll Fred. Looking back, Charlie called all of his grandchildren Charlie or Suzy, maybe because he couldn’t remember all of our names. Back then, Lake Tippecanoe was my version of heaven.

Grandma’s sisters — Aunt Aggie and Aunt Gretchen — lived on the other side of the lake. Given how small my family was, it was a bonus to visit so many relatives at one time. While the adults visited, I’d go upstairs and play with an old cash register, handmade sock dolls and Raggedy Ann with lapping waves making a peaceful soundtrack for playtime.

Back at Grandma and Charlie’s, my brother and I played with toys Charlie handmade for us, including painted, wooden blocks the size of bricks and an Aggravation board made from a countertop. We also played lawn darts, throwing a pointed dart into the center of a yellow plastic circle. No supervision was required back in the 70s. When playtime was over, we sat down for a traditional Midwest family meal that was usually the daily catch, potato salad and beans, followed by ice cream or sherbet and Grandma’s sour cream cookies for dessert! If it was my birthday, Grandma made an iced angel food cake with strawberries on the side.

Though Grandma and Charlie both died when I was 12, I will always hold those visits and memories of them close to my heart. They were a special time to be with my grandparents and to spend time with my dad. I don’t have any photos to remember those times, but they remain in my mind’s eye, never to be forgotten. Those special weekends at the lake sparked my love of the water — the sounds, the smells and the unique character of each lake — that continue to this day.

Returning to the present, this morning at Devil’s Lake, Canadian geese swim in a procession as the mist rolls off the water. The lake is quiet as the sun strains to peer through the fog. But like many wonderful memories at the water, I am not only soothed by its presence but also by the love of lifelong friends who invited me to join them at the lake.

It was another weekend to savor and file away in my mind, not so much to remember every ripple of water or birdsong but to cherish the wonderful memories and feelings they inspire.

Photos by Dana Neuts, copyright © 2024, all rights reserved.