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At Little Chicago Lake

Carol Smallwood

    Excerpt from Lily’s Odyssey, a novel, published with permission by All Things That Matter Press; its first chapter a Short List Finalist for the Eric Hoffer Award for Best New Writing

    It must have been the tables for the luncheon that brought back memories of tables filled with people on Little Chicago Lake: I smelled the hot tar of summer, the satisfying plop of belly smackers off the dock. The lake had gotten its name because it was people from Chicago who’d built summer homes when the Manitowoc & Nicolet Railroad skirted the lake in the late 1800’s.
     Each pine picnic table held people resembling each other not so much in looks but in some other indefinable way. They would look, nod and shake their heads to those at other tables and avoid looking while talking about them, smile as Uncle Walt described them as “gussied up blockheads” or “muttonheads,” carefully checking each other’s tone for reinforcement they were within the boundaries of their code. I recalled Uncle Walt’s benevolent expression as he nodded and greeted people passing their table. I kept the same smile when people told me, “Your uncle’s such a great guy,” knowing even if they knew the truth about him, it wouldn’t change his status of a successful man and son of another self-made man who’d become mayor. I’d heard many people say: “Walter Alger’s the salt of the earth and if someone speaks ill of him they’ll have to answer to me.” He’d usually walked around the park with his cigar in the corner of his mouth to be sure he hadn’t missed greeting anyone before leaving.
    I remembered a conversation at the picnic about a woman who’d been raped: “I heard her husband was seeing that Granger woman,” said Aunt Hester.
    Uncle Walt chuckled, “Couldn’t keep him at home, heh? God, having a wife raped like that sure as hell must make him feel like crap.” Aunt Hester handed him another Old Milwaukee from the cooler after Uncle Walt motioned for one. “Women have it all but are they satisfied? Hell no.” He motioned to the bench he was sitting on, “Christamighty! If you lined up all the satisfied women you ever ran across, they wouldn’t fill up half this damn bench.”

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