Summer is here whether we like it or not, and I, for one, don’t like it. These long, hot afternoons always make me want to go jump in a lake.
My kids think this is crazy. Risk an encounter with a snake or an alligator? Douse yourself in lawn-chemical run-off? And there’s that nasty lake bacteria during hot weather! No thanks, Mom, we’ll take a pool.
But our local lakes are not what I have in mind, anyway. What I’ve been yearning for is the lake swimming of my Michigan youth. Many of my sweetest memories center around the sandy-bottomed rural lakes of my youth, the lakes I knew and loved at Girl Scout camp, state parks, and idyllic family vacations at the cabins of relatives or family friends.
There are no hard edges on a Michigan lake. You can take your time as you wade in, enjoying the soft silk of the sand underfoot.
The smell is soft, too, the fresh musk of the water that rises as you watch your body disappear into translucent darkness that is mysterious, yet safe.
There are no lanes here, no rules. Glide in giant circles, seeking out a luscious warm spot or a thrilling cool one. Swim your best crawl through deep water out to an anchored raft. Heave yourself up, panting, and flop down to inhale the rising fragrance of sun-baked wood until you’re ready to jump back in with a cannonball splash. Flip onto your back and watch the clouds until someone calls you in for dinner.
You can see why pools don’t interest me much. They’re so…predictable.
Now, if you’re familiar enough with these columns to know that I haven’t written one in a while, you know that at this point, I’m likely to make some kind of connection between ideas. Here it is: I think my recent inability to write columns is related to my urge to swim in murkier waters.
Truth is, I’ve been having a rough year. This little lap-pool of editorial space is great for lots of things, but it’s not the place to explore the big issues of midlife that have been on my mind as my first child leaves home and beloved friends and relatives struggle with hard times. So, I took a break. I’ve been off doing the writing equivalent of lake swimming.
But sometimes a pool can be nice, too—handy, tidy, a great place to get exercise. Likewise with this column—it’s handy, tidy, and it’s good mental exercise to try to give my beloved readers a lift, or a laugh, or something to think about that’s not too weighty for these lazy summer days. So, I’m back, writing inside the lines again.
Oh, and I’m considering a membership at the Y. I hear the lanes at the pool are nice and wide.
Stay cool! And as always, thanks for reading Our Town.
This post was originally published in 2005.