Dad

My father loved the outdoors. As we were growing up, he would tell us stories of how he and his friends would spend their time fishing, hiking, bike riding and swimming whenever they had the chance. They lived in the city but they would head for whatever wilderness they could reach on their bikes. He carried this love into adulthood and while stationed with the army in Florida, he used his time off to explore the surrounding countryside, hiking, swimming, fishing. His stories were always entertaining, and he didn't mind laughing at himself and whatever predicaments he got into.

After he had children, he didn't have much time for games. Once in awhile, on hot Sunday afternoons, he would load the family, and maybe a friend or two, into the car and head for my mother's favorite lake. It was a long drive but worth it. Our old car would struggle up the hills, then fly down them, making our stomachs flip, flop. We would all hold our breaths as we got nearer, waitng to see how crowded it was.  If my mother thought it was too crowded, we would turn around and go home. This happened once or twice, and it was unbelievably disappointing.

Once safely there, we would jump from the car, and into the water. We never went to a beach; the shadiest spots were along the road where we could park close to the water's edge.  My mother sat close to the waves and watched us play in the water with our Dad. All past disappointments disappeared from our minds and  we enjoyed our time at the lake. It was wonderful.