Storytime: Living life's best days at the lake

When their kids were grown and the grandkids still young, my parents bought a little fishing place at Lake of the Ozarks, complete with a dock and deck and bonfire pit. Since they spent most of their time outside, it didn’t matter that the rooms were tiny and the kitchen small.

The lake was their living room.

My parents have six children scattered across the United States. Between the six of us, there are 11 cousins, all close to the same age. It kept my parents busy, traveling between us all, waiting for Christmas when we would all get together. When the lakehouse deal was done, my father decreed that, each summer, the Sewell family would spend a week together at the lake.

He wanted his grandchildren to get to know each other and his children to stay connected. That lakehouse might be crowded and chaotic, but families who play together stay together.

Right?

In January, we would start planning for June in an effort to honor my father’s firm declaration that all 25 of us vacation together. We had to coordinate ball schedules, work calendars, and summer camps, but knowing the date months in advance made it possible. Menus were planned, food was assigned, and the children’s giddy anticipation was real.

So was my father’s.

Dad wasn’t able to give us Disneyland or the white sand of a beach house. Instead, he would teach his grandchildren to bait a hook and then celebrate as the next generation pulled in their first fish. As a family, we watched soft sunrises from a boat and brilliant sunsets from the dock.

My father wanted to eliminate the time-consuming amusement park lines and lure of a shopping mall. Dad simply wanted his growing and changing family all to himself, if just for a little while.

“These,” Dad told me, wistfully looking across the water as the sun set beyond the dock, “are the days you can’t get back.”

A month before vacation time, each family would receive a much-awaited packet in the mail. Inside was a team roster, color-coordinated clothing, and something called “The Rules of Conduct.” Each year, the grand finale of our Sewell family vacation would be a day of competition.

The Sewell Family Olympics.

All week, the anticipation grew as the Olympic day approached. The night before, I don’t think the cousins slept at all, their eyes wide in their sleeping bags, their excited whispers and contagious giggles floating through the warm night air.

Officially at 10 the next morning, the opening ceremony began. We stood at attention on the deck as my father unfurled the flag and we put our hands over our hearts. I brushed away tears when I watched my father’s face as together we sang "The Star-Spangled Banner."

Let the games begin!

We started with a relay race that took teamwork to finish. Next was a water balloon toss and the gaggle of girls giggled when Grandma’s hair ended up sopping wet. There were fishing derbies off the dock, ham sandwiches and iced tea on the deck and, later that night in front of a bonfire, points were calculated and homemade trophies were handed out.

Everyone was a winner.

It was these summer days my father held onto in the last few weeks of his life. Dad remembered out loud those lazy lake days when he watched his grandchildren grow up together and his grown-up children play together like they had all those years ago.

It was crowded and noisy, and there was always a line to the bathroom, but there were also little ones on his lap, wet towels on the deck, and ghost stories under the stars. Boat rides and goodnight kisses and the sweet sound of children settling down to sleep. My father loved those lake days that started as a summer vacation and turned into something else entirely.

The best days of his life.

You can reach Lorry at lorrysstorys@gmail.com.

This article originally appeared on Columbia Daily Tribune: Storytime: Living life's best days at the lake