The other day I heard someone rant about the lake (again). "I hate going all the way up there for only a few hours." "It takes at least half an hour to get there." "I'd rather stay at my own house."
I don't feel that way at all. Many of my most precious memories are of days (sometimes hours or minutes) spent by the lake. My Grandma M often said, "it's the place we go to forget our troubles."
I took one of my Turkish daughters and my Mexican sister there last week. We had a lovely afternoon chatting with fishermen, watching boats, and sitting on the rocks. The children swam. Seagulls squawked overhead.
I wonder if they forgot their troubles...this week's bombing in Turkey...The three years that have passed since R has seen her father while he works in California.
The person who ranted must have never left his troubles at the lake.
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