Lake Martin
I remember that my aunt and uncle always had a candy jar full of brightly colored sour balls on the table by the fireplace at their lake house. It is one of those old Russell cabins with a big, almost-wrap-around porch that had a bed for a swing long before it came cool to have one. The porch also held a ping pong table, a full size hammock, a dining table that sat six, or 10 on the 4th of July, my aunt's chaise lounge, and several other directors chairs set for solving the world's problems. There was no air conditioning so the windows were always open and the attic fan running. That was the first order of business when anyone arrived; open all the windows, prop open the doors, and turn on the attic fan. Most of the windows opened onto the screened porch, and for a six year old, it made playing restaurant so much fun!
This cabin is simple; porch, main room with kitchen and small bedrooms off on the sides. We ate our meals on a green painted picnic table in the main room. My cousins played poker, on a rickety square table nearby, with my other aunt, their mother's sister, until the wee hours. If you weren't lucky enough, or old enough, to be assigned a bedroom, folks slept where they found space; the bed-for-a-swing, the chaise lounge, the hammock. My dad always slept down on the dock. Partly to escape the increasing volume of voices but mostly to be near the water.
My grandfather, my mother's father, was Uncle Albert's mentor, so to speak. They were both attorneys. When they met they immediately took a liking to each other, and my grandmother and aunt as well. In fact it was this friendship that introduced my parents. They were married at Ann and Albert's house; our wedding reception was their too. I have grown up hearing stories of my grandfather having coffee at the drug store before a big case to get an idea of what his jury would be thinking. When my uncle would have a case in small town, he would wear a suit with a little scruff to it and not wash his car for a week or two so he would not look like a "big-city attorney".
At the lake, Uncle Albert didn't look like a big-city attorney at all. He would be in a ratty old shirt, with a collar, and shorts. Some kind of hat when we went out on the boat. Cigarette hanging from his lips. He'd be under the house doing something, or looking at the boat motor, under my dad's supervision. When he was going through chemo, or radiation, he stopped smoking and replaced that habit with candy. At one gathering I sidled up to him and put my little arm around his waist. After a minute or two he slipped a sour ball into my hand. Our secret.
This cabin is simple; porch, main room with kitchen and small bedrooms off on the sides. We ate our meals on a green painted picnic table in the main room. My cousins played poker, on a rickety square table nearby, with my other aunt, their mother's sister, until the wee hours. If you weren't lucky enough, or old enough, to be assigned a bedroom, folks slept where they found space; the bed-for-a-swing, the chaise lounge, the hammock. My dad always slept down on the dock. Partly to escape the increasing volume of voices but mostly to be near the water.
My grandfather, my mother's father, was Uncle Albert's mentor, so to speak. They were both attorneys. When they met they immediately took a liking to each other, and my grandmother and aunt as well. In fact it was this friendship that introduced my parents. They were married at Ann and Albert's house; our wedding reception was their too. I have grown up hearing stories of my grandfather having coffee at the drug store before a big case to get an idea of what his jury would be thinking. When my uncle would have a case in small town, he would wear a suit with a little scruff to it and not wash his car for a week or two so he would not look like a "big-city attorney".
At the lake, Uncle Albert didn't look like a big-city attorney at all. He would be in a ratty old shirt, with a collar, and shorts. Some kind of hat when we went out on the boat. Cigarette hanging from his lips. He'd be under the house doing something, or looking at the boat motor, under my dad's supervision. When he was going through chemo, or radiation, he stopped smoking and replaced that habit with candy. At one gathering I sidled up to him and put my little arm around his waist. After a minute or two he slipped a sour ball into my hand. Our secret.
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