a writing by Nancy Ellen Crossland

I suppose there was a valid reason it was called "Green Lake." All we knew as kids was that it was a cool,refreshing oasis in the hot and humid Midwest summers.

A raft was centered just the perfect distance from the shore; lush in meadows and ancient oak and elm trees. Shady spots for picknickers on lazy afternoons. Splashing between lovely dragonflies, annoying horseflies (they were BIG) and occasional birds looking for a landing pad and free shower, it was a free day of fun in the sun. Something that no amusement park can rival.

Of course, a designated parent was always nearby with a watchful eye for any mishaps. Though I cannot recollect any. Perhaps I was having too much fun to notice. We all were keenly aware of the delicious aroma of hot dogs, hamburgers and barbecued corn. Of course the end of the perfect day was that watermelon. Succulent, juicy and thirst-quenching.

At dusk it was time to vacate Green Lake and rest under a favorite tree while watching for the fireflies to soon flicker and glow. Carefree days they were. No thoughts of pollution, West Nile Virus and careless campfires. Oh for the murky waters of Green Lake!

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