The lake house
November 10th, 2008 | by admin |This past weekend I headed to Clayton, GA, to visit my grandpa Bar* for his 87th birthday. Although I sent postcards to Bar’s house on Lake Burton at every stop throughout my trip and I thought of it fondly while walking around Norway, I almost forgot how much I love the lake.
The lake house my grandparents built back in the early 80s on 3 acres of property on Lake Burton may not look like the colossal houses you see sprouting up just down the road, but to me it embodies everything a lake house should be.
With two boats, one for fishing and a pontoon for joy riding (okay so yes we are missing a ski boat but my dad sold it promising to get us a new one and instead bought my mom’s old car with the money!), a dock, enough land with enough shrubs for an old fashion Easter egg hunt, and enough beds and pull-out couches for you and all your friends, the lake house does its job.
There’s that smell that seeps into your clothes that’s hard to describe but everyone who enjoys a trip to the mountains knows what I’m talking about. Mountain musk. It could stay in your clothes for years if you let it and if you don’t, years from now, years after never smelling that smell, if you catch a whiff it will immediately take you back.
Spending a weekend with my grandpa for his birthday was nice. I love hearing his old stories, some I’ve heard and some that were new. The teaching of life lessons- don’t go to meetings with whiskey on your breath or you will get fired, the reteaching of things I thought I already knew- how to pour cereal into a bowl so you get the biggest serving. These are the things only a grandparent can get away with telling you and you actually listen instead of rolling your eyes.
So how has my grandpa lived to be 87? He says he ate a lot of chocolate to get this far.
*”Bar” is short for Bobby because my oldest brother Jimmy couldn’t say Bobby so Bar just stuck