Big Lake, Three Lakes, Wisconsin. A place I have known since birth. (Left: A current view of the lake from our ‘beach/boat landing.’)
Before I was even a twinkle in my parents’ eyes, they were busy making many fond memories in Three Lakes, Wisconsin. They, along with my Aunt and Uncle, stayed at my Uncle’s parents’ home situated on the beautiful east shore of Big Lake. Even after my brother and I were born, we would spend time there. With 2 Grandparents, 4 Parents and a combined total of a ton of kids (not to mention the dogs) we were one big family. It was a cottage full! My parents had their eyes on the property next door….
(Pictured above: The original cottage. Big oil tank on the side of the house for heating. The kitchen had a small black wood burning stove to heat the kitchen and the small rooms close by.)
Years before the neighbor’s property went up for sale, my parent’s made a visit to the owners. With much love in their hearts for Big Lake in Three Lakes, Wisconsin, and the fact that it was situated right next to ‘the cousins’, my parent’s asked to be notified if a sale of the property would ever be considered. My parents purchased the lake front property and cottage when I was 7 years old. That was 40 years ago. There was much work ahead, but many more wonderful memories to follow.
As a family, after the last day of school, we would pack up the station wagon and head to the lake for the summer. My dad would work at home during the week, and then drive up for the weekends. The short weekends would fly by much too quickly. I will never forget the tears in my Mom and Dad’s eyes and the choked up feeling in my throat, as we all gathered together on Sunday afternoons saying ‘Good Bye’ to Dad as he climbed in the car to head back to the city for another week of work. We would wave until the car was out of sight traveling up the long wooded driveway. We always looked forward to the 2 week vacation he would take during the summer. Sometimes he took long weekends as well. He made such sacrifices for our family. Then again, there was Mom. She made sacrifices as well, having to tend to her kids up north for an entire week with no break from Dad. Thank you Mom and Dad.
I guess I was a country girl at heart all along. Yes, my school months were spent in the city, but whenever we had vacation, we would head north. At a very young age, I was taught to respect and love nature. It probably wasn’t an intentional teaching, yet, years later, I find that the love and respect still holds strong. I don’t remember that I ever missed being in the city during summer vacation. I loved being at the lake.
(Pictured above: We called this building the “Pump Room.” It housed a water heater/pump that ran water from there to the kitchen in the house. It also had a small shower in it, as well as a spare bedroom. Attached to the Pump Room was the garage. Next to this building was what we called the ‘Paint Shed.” The previous owners did a lot of painting, leaving all the cans of paint behind when they moved out. It later became my brother’s laboratory! As far as we ever knew he was never successful at blowing anything up…except maybe frogs with firecrackers. John, John, John. Years later, we stored our boating and other sporting things in there. Many creepy crawly creatures resided in there as well!)
We started out with only an outhouse for our ‘toiletry needs.’ I quickly learned the value of not drinking anything after dinner, hopefully diminishing the need to make the dreaded march outside to the outhouse after dark. For emergency purposes, we did have an old white pot with a white plastic lid and metal handle that we quickly named the ‘Port-a-Potty.’ I think it still resides somewhere up in the attic now. At night, the Port-a-Potty sat nestled next to a roll of toilet paper by the back door. It was a savior on many occasions. Interestingly, the outhouse was a ‘Two Seater.” As an adult, I ask, “Who in their right mind would make the conscious decision to complete their dirty work in the company of another human being?” Twenty-twenty hind sight, it was nice when I was a little girl. My Mom would always come out with me to protect me from any predators that my imagination may have strewn up! Thank you Mom! It wasn’t long before my Dad converted a small closet in the cottage into a powder room. Thank you Dad!
(Pictured above: The Dreaded Outhouse at the end of the wooden path) The smaller building in front of the outside was— well, I’m really not sure what it was, but I DO remember the table. Dad taught us how to clean and fillet our fish. ”If you catch it, you clean it!” That was back in the day of big walleyes!)
I remember having cottage chores to do. However, they were never considered ‘chores’. They were, more or less, seen as the responsibilities that came with having the luxury of being able to spend time at the summer cabin and lake. Now, as an adult, I totally understand that. One summer, I remember painting the log cabin. We did so as a family. A couple of ladders. A bunch of gallons of dark brown oil stain and the smell of turpentine. Dressed in paint caps, dirty flannel shirts, jeans and old worn out gloves, we would put a couple hours worth of painting in before we indulged ourselves in the ‘fun stuff’ of being at the lake.
At a very young age I was taught how to swim, fish, canoe, sail, water ski and snow ski. I knew how to split wood for kindling and stack bigger pieces in the ‘wood shed’ for fires during the colder days. Every once in a while we would come across a snake skin in the kindling box, a bird’s nest in the crook of a tree or a Mama Bass swimming out from under the pier. We would listen to the call of the loons, the hoot of the owls and the buzz of mosquitos. We would sit on the pier and wait and watch the storms move in across the lake. At the very last second, we would run for cover before the rains came down and drenched us. In the dark night we would stare up at the enormous open sky and watch for falling stars and the Northern Lights all the while swatting at the mosquitos that swarmed our warm bodies. We were taught that bats were good to have around because they ate bugs, however, they still spooked me out. We would go for hikes in the woods and quietly listen to the sounds of nature. Close to dusk, we took trips to the local dump to witness the wild animals (bears, raccoons, skunks, fox) scavenging through the garbage for food; driving slowly on the way home to watch for deer in the fields. The majority of these things never to be witnessed or experienced in the city.
(Pictured above: The view of the front porch of the original cottage from the end of the pier. Pictured far left in front you can see part of the fire scare Dad built and remains there today. Sitting on the front stoop is my brother John.)
I loved nature. I would walk along the built up shoreline of rocks trying to catch crayfish by hand and then let them go; watching them quickly dart backwards into the safe crevasses of the rocky shoreline. It was a talent that had to be acquired, but once learned it was a fun adventure. I usually wore boots or socks of some sort to keep the leeches at bay. I could also be found traipsing through the woods and swamp, turning over logs and rocks, looking for frogs and salamanders to keep as summer pets; building them extravagant outdoor homes with elegant views and lots of food. Many would escape during the night, but that was OK, it wasn’t a prison after all. They were free to come and go as the pleased! When it was time to pack up and go back to the city, my summer ‘pets’ were released back into the wild. I picked worms for fishing and knew how to hunt for night crawlers. I knew how to bait my own hook and clean my own fish. I remember making terrariums out of old jars and moss, mushrooms, ferns and any other things I could find in the woods. I was used to the bites of mosquitos, horse flies and deer flies. I was good at dodging a bombarding dragonfly, only to find out years later that they too, eat bugs! I think I was really only afraid of spiders, bats and fish- but only fish that were still in the water! Growing up in the north woods, I quickly became accustomed to country life.
Years passed on. My brother, John and I went off to the same college. Soon after that, we went our own separate ways. The cottage remained, but Dad’s dream hadn’t changed. He spent many, many years drawing up plans for a new cottage. One in which he and Mom could someday retire. One in which their kids and grandkids could spend family time together. But, John and I both resided in different, far away states and rarely made it back to Wisconsin.
It was the year 1997. I had been away from home far too long. I made the move from Alpharetta, Georgia back to Wisconsin. My two boys and I stayed with my parents until a home for us was found. As my Mom watched the boys (her two grandkids), my Dad would take me out looking for a home. That was the first time in my life I learned how to correctly read a map without flipping the map with every street corner I turned! A big accomplishment- HUGE! I now knew North from South, East from West. It was like learning my left hand from my right, only I was 30 years older! You are never to old to learn something new! We found a home in Brookfield, only 15 minutes from my parents. Great location, great schools, older, mature neighborhood with big trees and a large lot. Perfect! The following summer, my brother and his family moved back to Wisconsin as well! They found a house not more than 2 miles from mine. We were all home again. Dad blew the dust off his drawings and got back to work on the cottage.
In 1998 the new cottage was complete. It was now large enough to accommodate all 15 of us… plus our dogs. Over the years, it was a tradition that we all traveled north to spend the July 4th vacation together. We would go into town for the Three Lakes parade, teach the kids how to water ski, swim, canoe, fish, sail, have fire scar cookouts complete with S’mores and hot dogs at the original fire scar we built when the cottage was first purchased. Each year, bringing about many more fun memories. However, now that my brother and I were back home with our families, it was difficult for Mom and Dad to ‘move’ up north and retire in the year round lake home built from their dreams.
(Pictured above: The New Cottage that my Mom and Dad spent years (I think 30 years) designing. Because of Dad’s engineering background, he was able to design from start to finish. What a dream come true.)
All my years in the north woods could be the result of my chronic lyme disease. However, after much research, I found that there is more than plenty of lyme disease around us in the city, especially in Brookfield and Pewaukee. Throughout my writings, you will see that on more than one occasion I was in contact with ticks while I was in the city, in my own backyard. Lyme disease is not only carried by ticks, but deer flies, horse flies carry it as well.
