E. B. White and Black Lake

There are places that have been passed down from generation to generation in every family. Parks, garages, fields, beach fronts, and even lakes. There is a lake that has been a traditional place to go for every generation in my family. Black Lake, it sounds quite sinister and at times it seemed that it was. There were moments when my family thought that we would be stranded in the middle of the water or that our boat would sink while we were left bailing the water out, like some slap stick comedy program. But this lake has had some beautiful moments; family dinners of fried fish, camp fires with s'mores, and swimming in the dark green water.
E. B. White's story "Once More to the Lake" reminds me so much of my own family lake that it would seem that we share the same one, even though I know that we don't. It's more that experiences are similar. The expectant arrivals, the fresh pine smells (mine's more of an oak), a swampy aroma at night, fishing on the boat, playing in the rain, and a constant ritual of doing it every year. My family goes back almost every year. You can find pictures of me at this lake from the time I was a new born. So there are definitely instances when I hear my parents or grandparents commenting like White does. For instance, when my dad was teaching my brother how to gut a fish; my dad would make comments like when I was a kid. Normally comments like this come from grandparents, so when my father is talking like this it tells me that he is remembering. He is having the same sort of time stand still moment that White was.
Places like the lake are a great way to introduce new environments to younger generations and create new memories as well as bring up old one. It's never too late to start a trip like this and it's never too late to go back to an old place. This whole story makes me want to go back to the lake now. I do miss it.