Prompted: Across the Lake
Image provided by: @willianjusten
You have just bought a sailboat, and you have to name it. What would you name your boat? Where is the first place you’d sail to?
I am the middle child belonging to an electrician and nurse. I grew up in the clay colored waters of Oklahoma lakes like Frederick, Tom Steed, Texhoma, and Lugert. From such humble beginnings, sailboats and yachts were never going to be in the cards for me. Nothing of mine would ever find itself parked at the marina. We were never going to find ourselves gathered as a family, breaking champagne bottles, in the midst of some elaborate naming ceremony, unveiling some pompous craft ironically after a high school girlfriend from my dad’s past.
But belonging to “club middle-class” was not without its perks. We belonged to a clan of deck boats and pop-up camper people. This meant summer vacations were often spent parked at some crowded Oklahoma lake, with other members of the club, camping, fishing, skiing, and swimming with family and friends. We didn’t holiday in the Maldives. We didn’t fly across the country in search of escape. We could rarely afford extended road trips to hidden gems hidden across this massive country of ours. With enough money for gas, entry/camping fees, food, and sunscreen, we could escape and shake off the rigors of the work in the murky waters of Southwest Oklahoma.
And there, I grew to love the water. I learned to ski at an early age. I have possessed the ability to swim longer than I can remember. With orange life jackets and floaties, my dad anchored a white rope behind his boat and gave us hours of fun via a yellow board that would endlessly glide, as if floating, over those waters that defined my youth. For countless hours, we would scream, laugh, and play in sheer delight. Sunburns and tan lines were the definition of a summer well spent.
It wasn’t much. Many of my friends had it better than us, but we had it better than others. Life in America is a game. You’re always chasing someone else, and you're always being chased. In those waters, capitalism didn’t matter to us. In that sweltering summer heat, we felt wealthy. We were rich in spirit, joy, and fellowship.
On those waters and on those shores, we made lasting memories as a family. Those memories and those vacations were the best my dad could give us. Sure, he might have felt more accomplished, more of a provider, on our journeys to California or deep into the heart of Texas, but he knew, consistently and with the birth of each new summer, he could give his kids a momentary escape at the drop of a hat.
I miss those summers spent in the boat and in community with some of the people I love most in this world. Time felt so innocent then, as if it would stretch on to touch the face of eternity.
Now, those days seem gone forever. Eldon died in 2020. His boat was gifted to Clayton in hopes of reviving some family tradition. For five years, it has sat idle in his driveway in desperate need of some repair that time cannot afford. For me, I cast myself across the length and breadth of this country, and Lucas made a decision that cannot be undone. Time, which felt so innocent and uneasily understood, has deemed us guilty of longing for moments in this life that shall never come again.
In that realization, there is something to be said about getting older and all that is lost with the passage of time. Surely, there are some things that are not meant to last forever. Everything has a time and place. All things must end, but I am convinced that some things are worth keeping. They may require determination. They may require leadership. They may require ownership. They may require a rallying point. I think summers spent on the lake might have been one of those moments, and if not the water, then in fellowship by some other means. The lake was never the point. It was just a tool. A new tool can be chosen. We can gather in that space, and birth new summers that define a family.
Be good to each other,
Nathan
As a member of the factory, you are taking a stand for human powered creation.
