The Allure of that Grandest Older Woman

Grand Laker for life, Rusty Fleming

When I laid my eyes on her for the first time in 1970, I was stunned by her beauty as this flatlander had never seen anything like her before. It was April of 1970, and I was a mere 26 years old and she would turn thirty in August. 

The age factor was never even the smallest of considerations as this beautiful lady captured the imagination of this first-time visitor to far northeastern Oklahoma. Little did I know at the time the significant role this stunning lady would play in my life. When I was first transferred from the red clay flatlands surrounding Oklahoma City to Tulsa in 1970, courtesy of Southwestern Bell Telephone Company, I was fortunate to be assigned to work under the supervision of long-time Grand Laker Carl Carman. Carl was responsible for taking me to Grand Lake for that very first time, fifty-four years ago this month, and introduced me to the mysterious and captivating Lady Grand. 

As with most beautiful women encountered along the way, the moment was spectacular, but I had little idea of the impact that long ago weekend might have on the future. The spell had been cast, and the boy, whose idea of a body of water was a farm pond located south of Oklahoma City, was about to be infected with what I’ve often described as the Grand Lake Gotcha’ Syndrome. 

Just another days in paradise

Each April as I reflect back on my personal relationship with this captivating lady, who will now turn eighty-four in August, I’m reminded of a visit to a fortune teller/star gazer or whatever term was in vogue for such people during the seventies. Lynda and I went on a lark, but when this lady behind the Chrystal ball forecasted a significant impact of liquid in my future, I thought immediately about my Dad’s farm; the same farm where that pond was located I so dearly loved. But it also had a couple of oil leases and my thought was that oil would definitely be the liquid most likely to impact our future. Now I can’t help but ponder if she was talking about those healin’ waters of Grand Lake. 

The metamorphosis was slow, but the end result was predictable. There was camping for weekend visits, staying in rented quarters like the Grand Lake Waldorf, which was nothing more than some storage sheds with a bed and a bath prior to Ugly John dozing them to make room for Thunder Bay, trailering the boat to validate that all experience has value and then finally justifying that piece of Grand lake real estate in 1976.

 Then five years later, after multiple Sunday evenings as a weekender dreading that trip back to the metroplex, a life-changing decision to make Grand our permanent home. Anytime I’m lured back to Tulsa, most likely for a Sam’s stop, some medical related appointment or just passing through on our way to Stillwater for extremely important business, I’m invariably taken hostage by traffic on Sheridan, Memorial or any other number of other streets. It’s then more than any other time that I’m reminded of the debt I owe to that older woman who captured my fancy in 1970. 

She’s aged a bit, got a few new wrinkles, mostly from the development of her shoreline, and there are certainly more Grand Lakers than there were in the seventies, but she’s still just as magnificent as ever. This lifestyle certainly isn’t for everyone, and many would become bored after their first winter here on my beloved pond. But for me, the changing of the seasons and experiencing everything Mother Nature serves up free of charge, is what makes this place priceless. Whether it’s the arrival of our friends the Purple Martins to take up residence in the houses erected atop our dock, the sitting of that first hummingbird of the season or the annual crappie spawn, spring is always popular around our place. 

But so is the summer and the gathering of thousands of our closest friends in our cove, but then so is the fall ball and that long awaited first blaze in the outdoor fireplace as we hear those honkers and ducks passing overhead on a night accented by a full moon. Then we are on to the Christmas Boat Parade in December and that much anticipated first magnificent snow fall of the year. And before we know it, we’re anticipating the arrival of our migratory friends, who became snowbirds and headed south for the winter like many of our friends, but we just couldn’t find a real good reason to vacate Grand Lake regardless of the time of year. 

Fifty-four years later and in the eyes of this beholder, she’s still magnificent. 

See Ya’ Around the Pond