Memory, Myth, and the Weeping Lady of the Lake
More than half a century has passed since I went fishing on that summer’s day. Yet, I still remember her. Though I honestly do not know why. I think we can all agree that fifty years is both a lot of time to remember a fleeting occurrence that passed in seconds and enough time that the very persistence of the memory means something.
How young I was, not yet thirteen. I loved the outdoors, camping and fishing made me happy. There was never an opportunity to be in the woods that I didn’t take. If the whole world could have been forest and waterways I would have been more than content.
When I grew up in Fairfax County, Virginia, we still had extensive areas of woods. I spent a great deal of my time running around exploring the lay of the land in the most hidden areas I could find. One such place was Burke Lake Park.
Burke Lake had a trail that encircled the entire park. It went through a boat launch, and across a bridge for a road that skirted the edge of the park, but most of the trail meandered past trees and lakeshore far from crowds. Most of the trail usually remained very quiet, save for animals and breezes in the leaves. For the most part, the trail remained empty of hikers in the more forested…
