Inland Ocean

I was first seduced back in the heady days of 1964 at the St. Clair Theater. Thousands of miles and a lifetime away from my boring, bland existence in the Midwest. It was where I first dis-covered California girls, sun-kissed beaches, rolling surf and a lifestyle I could only imagine in my immature, eighteen-year-old pea-brain. All there on the big screen for me to believe in.

Since there was no Pacific Ocean in my backyard, Lake Nokomis proved second best and has since always held a special place in my heart. Even before dropping out of college, entering military service and leaving civilian life behind, the lake was a magnet for my dreams, illusions and high hopes for the future.

Around the turn of the century, the lake and its development were a part of Theodore Wirth’s grand plan to capitalize on the string of lakes in Minneapolis. He was one of the driving forces that transformed Minneapolis into a city known for its parks, lakes and outdoor recreational opportunities.

Lake Nokomis was the largest body of water near my home. While it couldn’t chorus the siren call of passing ships and meandering waters that crept down the delta, it did feed my psychic nature with its calm waters and the strange natives who inhabited its shores.

It was often a destination point for my long-distance bike rides and learning to be fleet of foot outside of high school track. It became my contemplative mountaintop without the elevation. It was a stolen glimpse into the wild and carefree antics of other youth who didn’t have the burden of a steady job and perhaps had more clarity toward their future. Nokomis became an icon for what I thought the future might hold for me. It became my inland ocean.

But instead of salt air, there was the sweet scent of pine. Instead of seagulls floating overhead, Robins stalked worms in a blanket of green. Instead of ocean waves crashing against the shore line, there was the gentle lapping of water moved only by a passing canoe. It wasn’t the same but, in my mind, it was about as good as it was going to get…at the time. That was before Uncle Sam took me away for two plus years.

By March of 1966, I was back in my old habitat…or so I thought.

After escaping the regimented confines of olive drab, I quietly slipped back into the real world and, of course, had to return to my old Lake Nokomis haunts. It was like hearing an old song which brings back distant memories and a slice of your past life that’s so real and clear you can almost taste it all over again.

The lake hadn’t changed much over the years but I had. I was back in that old mire of a still confusing relationship and travel dreams that were shackled with a year and a half of college still to finish. Yet somehow, the lake brought focus and clarity where the fog of reality clouded my vision of the future.

Circling the lake and meandering its shoreline brought out my contemplative nature and opened my world to all kinds of possibilities; both real and imagined. Even before that warm summer of ’66 had begun, I would venture over to my own inland ocean to walk the shoreline and imagine those frozen waters lined with bathing beauties and bronze gods. There was something magical about that expanse of water and shore line and meditative mounds where a young man could imagine what the real world might be like after graduation.

Would it include a career in advertising (‘Mad Men’, here I come) or a return to my pre-hippie roots in San Francisco. Somehow, Lake Nokomis brought all those wonderful thoughts, dreams and wild aspirations to the surface even in the dying last gasps of winter.

Lake Nokomis became my oceanic home away from home. I could look across the shore line and see Rincon Beach, Half Moon Bay, Huntington Beach, Sunset, Malibu or Laguna Beach. It was all there for the imagination.

The old unofficial unmarked high school beach scene was still there. The girls look the same except they were younger now and showed a lot more skin. The boys circling the girls looked the same and still acted as if they were all by themselves playing Frisbee or soccer. But now when the boys took off their shirts there was more ink than a platoon of Marines.

It used to be young white kids fishing off the pier. Now it was more families of color hoping to hook an evening meal. I’m sure they were there back then but I never saw them. I noticed porta-potties in place of the bushes where we used to go. Couples still walked arm in arm like they were in some three-legged race and oblivious to the world around them.

The couples pushing baby strollers around the lake looked like hipsters. He in his press pants, white t-shirt and hat. She in her flowered skirt or sarong. Both are pushing baby precious in a $100 dollar stroller which was probably equipped with more accessories than my old Pinto.

In ’66, the main beach was mainly for families and oldsters who would lie on the sand and soak up the sun. Now the main beach has a plethora of activities, refreshment stands and places to get a snack. You can rent paddle boards, canoes, kayaks, fishing boats, fishing equipment, sailboats and paddle-bikes. I guess Park and Rec. has to make a buck too.

I hadn’t realized it at the time but Nokomis had become an icon for what I was seeking in my life. That summer of ’66 wasn’t quite like the movie “The Summer of ‘44” but it was nevertheless a pivotal point in my life. A summer of love and lust and confusion. Olive drab was replaced by Madras and blue jeans and the real world was slowly opening up to my young imagination. It came before that winter breakup and graduation and living in Europe. It came before my real world was augmented with loves found and lost, the sweet nectar of satisfying work, being a foreign correspondent on the West Bank and enjoying the ebbing foolishness of youth.

It came before I began work in public television and met the nighttime receptionist there. A stunning blond who had focus and understanding and empathy and patience. She’s been one heck of a friend, travel companion, lover for the last fifty-four years.

The lake is still a magnet for all kinds of people. They come to play and rest and dream and enjoy the visceral appeal of what might be. It served that purpose for me. It brought comfort and clarity and finally closure to that part of my life.

A body of water can do that sometimes.