Lake Erie's Children 

Is there anything better for childhood summers than a port town?  Like Conneaut, Ohio?

I was born in Cleveland, a city on Lake Erie. I was born to parents from Ashtabula, another city on Lake Erie and then adopted by a mother and father who were born, raised and living on the lake, also in Conneaut.

In the 1960’s, Mom took us to the beach nearly every day after our chores were done. My brother, sister and I followed behind her with blankets and towels sometimes hopping in the too hot sand shouting, “ouch, ouch!” After an hour of sunlight and rhythmic waves, Mom’s mood would brighten, her Scandinavian skin would turn a golden color and she would slip into the water while the three of us sat on our blanket, watching. Her freestyle stroke was a thing of beauty and her Deadman’s float was, forgive the expression, to die for, because she could float so long and effortlessly.

The lake fed us. It literally put food on the table because of Dad’s job at the P&C Dock Company, not to mention the walleye or Lake Erie perch he fried in the back yard after fishing. 

The lake taught us about life. We learned the effect of throwing sand near our food and the futility of building a sandcastle too close to the water. We quickly realized that the huge iron ore boats weren’t on the lake just for us to marvel at.  They brought jobs for our dads who help unload them on our docks.

Lake Erie adults preached learning to swim or at least, “tread water so that you can save yourself if you have to, for God’s sake!”

It took some of us many years into adulthood before we finally realized that no camera could quite capture the beauty of a sunset over our great lake.

I am one of Lake Erie’s Children.  Are you?  Feel free to leave your thoughts.

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