Memories at the Lake

Down through the years our family tradition of spending time together at Lake McConaughy on the prairies of Ogallala, Nebraska has evolved. As the family has grown in numbers from eight to forty one, we have progressed from camping in tents, to sleeping in a small trailer house, to staying in the large cedar and brick home. The tradition of sharing quality family time began with my paternal grandparents and their four offspring. The children, two daughters and identical twin boys were all a year apart in age. My grandfather worked for water well company and my grandmother had been a school teacher. During the later years, when the lake house was alive with laughter, voices, and utter chaos, my grandfather would turn to my grandmother and say “We started all this.” A person who professes to prefer the company of children to that of adults, my grandmother would reply, “We are making memories.”

My parents began going to the lake in Nebraska from their hometown of Goodland, Kansas when they were in high school. They drove from Kansas to the lake in Nebraska in under two hours. The lake was a place to jump in the cool water when the summer heat was unbearable. As the family grew, the lake was a special place to spend time together. We were making the memories my wise grandmother had spoken of. We would swim, fish, water-ski, and build sandcastles. When we were little, we camped in tents by the lake. When were in high school, the family bought an old trailer in a trailer park. This was a small place to get in out of the rain or wind. We had somewhere to make ice and cook over a stove! It was tiny but we still managed to make awesome memories. We parked cars, trucks, and campers all around it. We would gather in the trailer to eat and play card games like Pitch and Bridge. Four adults had the privilege of sleeping in the beds inside the trailer, the rest of us would return to our station wagons and campers to sleep.

When I graduated from college, the family purchased five acres by the lake and built a house for all of us to stay in during the weekends. We continue to make memories with aunts, uncles, and cousins by the dozens. Often we have four generations under one roof. The house is large, five master bedrooms and baths. The basement walls are lined with bunk beds to accommodate the large group. The children pitch tents around the house for the extra kids to sleep in. They believe they are “really” camping. Great grandma started a guest book for friends to visit. Our friends sign it when they leave. We’ve made special memories with our relatives and friends!

Making memories, began prior to their high school graduation in 1959, my parents spent many hours the beaches of Lake McConaughy. My dad’s parents and even his grandmother pitched their tents in the shade of the big cottonwoods and the young teenagers joined them. The prime space in the shade of the tall trees was limited due to the lack of trees on the dry, wind blown prairie. They made many terrific memories at Martin Bay, They tell of how the boats never sat. They skied all day and fished for Bass and Walleye at night. They have handed down funny stories. For example, my aunt told my
uncle he would have a great tan if all his freckles grew together, My mother tells of feeling sick when she was just barely pregnant with me and went night fishing with my father and grandparents. This was the beginning of many fun filled hours my father’s side of the family shared at the lake.

After my cousins and I came along, we also camped on the beach until our parents purchased a trailer in a park above Van’s Lake View Marina. We would sleep in the trailer or in the back of station wagons parked around the trailer. Our daylight hours were spent on the beach building sand castles and burying one another up to our necks in the sand. We were given treat bags with our names on them for the weekend. We loved the tootsie pops that were in the bags. Cherry flavored was the best and if your tootsie pop had a picture of an Indian, it was considered good luck! At night, card games, such as Pitch or Bridge were still the games of choice. The games could become heated at times with our competitive, stubborn family. One time my dad and aunt were arguing over a trick in Bridge, when my dad tossed the contents of what he thought to be his empty iced tea glass on to my aunt. Imagine everyone’s shock when the iced tea ran down my aunt’s face and blouse! It’s a story we laugh about now. My dad and his twin brother spent a whole day teaching my brother and I how to water-ski. When enough small cousins learned to ski, they pulled six of us behind the boat at one time. We waved to the people on the shore and felt as if we were performing at Cypress Gardens!

In 1985, the family bought land and built a large lake house above Van’s Marina. The house has an enormous deck that wraps around three sides of it. My grandfather called it the Texas deck. Now, the cousins are coming to the lake and bringing their children, more boats, and many friends. A new generation makes memories at Lake McConaughy. We ski, tube, and wake board. There is a golf course and clubhouse nearby but we prefer to spend time going on nature hikes or playing football and volleyball on the beach. The lake house is lacking a television. In the evenings, stories and jokes are told around the fire pit. Games like Skipbo, Pictionary, Pitch and Bridge are played on the large rectangular table my uncle crafted out of cherry wood. The house sleeps many people but the children still pitch tents to camp outside. Families pair up and take turns making dinner for the group of forty or more people. Menus are planned ahead of time and groceries are brought in from our hometowns. The food is always delicious and we vow to resume our diets as soon as we return home.

A new generation is about to begin! My cousin’s daughter, our flower girl, is expecting her first baby in September. Next summer, we may have five generations under the lake house roof! The lake time tradition has evolved over the years but the love our family shares has remained constant. My grandmother’s guest book and the photo albums we all maintain, keep the memories alive for us. This is especially touching when we remember members of our family who have died. It’s part of our healing process to look at their images in the album and talk about the times we shared. The relatives continue to come and more memories are made!