Summers Spent with Grandpa Oliver
While swimming at night, the smell of cedar and the sound of water gently lapping the timbers that held the pier are one of many fond memories I have of growing up at White Lake. During the day, there were other adventures to discover.
Every weekend before Easter, my grandfather, Perry Oliver, would take me to the lake to prepare the go-carts for operation that upcoming summer. My earliest memory was using a paint brush and can of gas to clean the oil and grime away from the engines.
Afterwards, I was allowed to paint a cart red, blue or yellow — all the while being warned by Grandpa of those “cowlicks”! (That was the name he had given the many Velvet ants crawling around enjoying the spring weather.)
During the season, I loved sitting in the ticket booth with Grandpa Oliver sipping on 10-ounce Pepsi or Mountain Dews watching the riders go round and round the track.
Among many adventures, I was with him at Spell Burger, the glass bottom boat, or just riding around the lake, or helping him around the cottage. It was a kid’s dream. If only it would have lasted forever.
Now as an adult, every time I smell cedar, I become emotional as all those memories come flooding back. Oh, how I miss my youth and those Perry Oliver White Lake days.
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