Home Tweet Home

Hi sugarpies. I'm feeling a little sour tonight (hormones from hell), so I'm going completely off me to a better subject: LAKE TWEET!

Let me tell you a story.

Lake Tweet is a man-made lake--some might call it a pond, but I won't--in Ohio's beautiful Washington County. It's on land that once belonged to my grandfather and many of his descendants before him. It's now owned by my youngest uncle, who is a mere five years my senior. Thank you, uncle, for letting us play so long and so loud at your lake!

The lake was dug in 1966--again, disputed, but I'm sticking to 1966--by my grandpa and his brothers. Notably, his brother Francis, who was called Tweet. Shortly after the lake was completed, Tweet died. In tribute, it became Lake Tweet.

I honestly can't guess at how many nights I've spent at this sacred place. I've laid on my back on the dock and watched falling stars. I've floated many an afternoon away with good friends and good family. I've hiked, played volleyball, had deep discussions and tender moments around a million campfires. I've even rolled in the pine needles a few times, if you must know.

Lake Tweet has become a very special place for many people. My own children now run the land like it's Disney World nearly every weekend. We adults sit around and celebrate life at all hours. It is more than just a place; it's a feeling, a mood and a salve. It cures what ails me.

It's also the place where I feel closest to Bernard, my grandpa, who, for the first 20 years of my life, was the man of my life. Detailing my relationship with him and the impact he had on my life is way beyond the scope of this post.

But I see you, Bernard, and celebrate your legacy. Every weekend at Lake Tweet.