At the other end of the spectrum is my Coppertone-tinged girlfriend, Lynn, whose family has enjoyed a lake home near Columbus for decades. For Lynn and her brothers, who have shared the retreat since it was passed down from their father, a weekend there includes boat rides, cookouts, and sunset-watching. I’ve been several times—it’s great—but given my neuroses, I can’t stick it out any longer than 24 hours, a point of contention in an otherwise effortless relationship.
This Memorial Day marked their last at Grandview Lake. Home-away-from-home since 1988 is for sale. As Lynn agonizes over the approaching finality, I think I finally understand the allure. This place stands as a totem, a marker of time not unlike pencil notches on a kitchen wall made by parents to chart the growth of their kids.
Summer Daily, our special-sections editor and a former student of mine who is leaving us to return to school, explores the lake effect in her charming farewell piece for the magazine. Reading the essay was bittersweet. To me, she’ll always be a little wet behind the ears.
