Our story begins in the early 1900s when three siblings bought a piece of land on the shore of a beautiful lake. Each built a house for their families and began to bring them there every summer. Not much has changed since. In the early 70s we all got indoor plumbing and electricity, and more recently some of us have updated our kitchens, but otherwise, everything is the same. The windows, the wrap around front porches, the rocky shoreline protected by centuries old pine trees, the original windows, the beaded pine wood panelling...it's all the same We look at old photographs and there's not much that is different. When I look at a picture of my great-great grandmother sitting in the exact same chair in the exact same spot on the exact same porch that I do every summer, my breath catches just a bit. Those three siblings had good taste - and amazing foresight. Their descendants still swim in the same water and sit on the front porches of those exact same houses and have cocktails together nearly every night. We even eat off some of the same plates.
In our house, there are small reminders of those people who came before us. In the attic, my great-great-grandfather's doctor's bag still has cotton balls inside of it waiting to be used. His steamer trunk they used to pack and load onto the trains that brought them from Brooklyn sit in the back corner. My grandmother's college year book rests on the book shelf next to our DVR and my grandfather's flashlight is on the mantle above the fireplace. Many of us have felt like there are friendly spirits in all of our houses and each of us has different stories to share. On the eve of my great-aunt's birthday my sister swears she woke up in the middle of the night and heard her walking around her bed (while she slept in this aunt's bed in her bedroom). My grandfather would routinely tell us "This house is haunted." But we all knew it wasn't in a bad way. When we close up the house in October I often feel like all of the spirits of those who came before come to descend on the house as we drive away. They are our winter-time protectors.
Growing up I did not really appreciate this unique situation. I knew how lucky I was to have a summer house on a lake, but I didn't really quite get the immensity of the family connection. At this point we are all distantly related and have become adept at knowing the difference between a second cousin and a first cousin twice-removed, but how many people out there actually know those far removed cousins? This is what makes us special.
Last weekend, we gathered for the funeral of one of those family members. He lived a long life with many summers on the lake and while it was sad to lose him, it also brought us all together again. We never see each other in November - it was bonus family time thanks to him. We filled nearly four rows in a church - the descendants of those 3 siblings with the great taste and the amazing foresight -- not just as acquaintances but as a family. As I looked at my family from behind (because I was in the bathroom when they all filed into the church together and I had to sit by myself behind all of them... thanks guys!!!) it was striking to me that as much as we love our special spot on the water, it's more about the relationships that have grown out of those houses. Next May when we return to open those houses for the summer, I will have cocktails with four different generations that all came from the same spot on the family tree. It is a powerful notion for me to realize that when I am gone, my grandchildren will be doing the same. In the same spot. Perhaps even from the same glass.
And here we have three beautiful girls who will grow old together on the shores of this beautiful lake. Right now they are busy figuring out how to play together - and while they only see each other a few times each summer, they are always excited when they do. It's as though deep down they already know how special this all is. Their great-great-great grandparents would be happy. Very happy.
