Lake Webster

Kevin prepares to launch one into the street

We have been going to Lake Webster in North Webster, Indiana  for family vacation since June 1954- not every summer but more often than not. As a child, I remember how the lake used to be; there was a gas pump on the dock and Tim and I could walk to Mrs. Culver’s General Store to buy candy. Her store was really just a part of her house and she was old then. When we were old enough to take our own children there, twenty years later, we marveled that she was still around, just as we remembered. She was well into her 70s, maybe even 80s, and she no longer operated a store out of her home, but other than that she was just as we remembered.

For some reason, we never played wiffle ball there- perhaps it was because our children were so small and there was no time left after the swimming, fishing, boating, and just playing with the kids. After the early 90s, we just sort of forgot about Lake Webster, spending family vacations on the South Carolina beaches instead. But in 2008, we decided to do a guy’s weekend and all the McCurdy males were invited- Dad, the brothers, the sons, the nephews, the brothers-in law.

This time we went with a plan- there would be fishing, card-playing (Euchre, of course), football-watching, drinking some of the Extra Innings Billy that Tim makes, and most importantly- wiffle ball. But where would we play? We had no idea- there was some discussion of playing on the lot that the parents owned on a canal off the lake or maybe finding a suitable park in North Webster.

On the first day there, we got our bat and balls and stood outside our cottage to discuss our plan. As it happened, we were standing right outside Mrs. Culver’s house and we noticed that her back yard actually looked pretty sufficient. In fact, we mused as we walked off the dimensions, the yard looked much better than sufficient- it looked ideal! But who do we ask? Obviously not Mrs. Culver, she would have to be nearly a hundred years old by now, but the house looked like it was still occupied so we knocked on the door, preparing to plead our case with the new tenant.

But there was no new tenant- Mrs. Culver, alive and well, opened the door. Of course she remembered us and of course we could use her back yard. She was even kind enough to bring out a plate of cookies for us while we were playing. And her back yard was primo, by the way. In the photos, you can clearly see the trees along either side that form a natural alley- hitting a tree was a foul. If the ball lands in the street, it’s a run, and two runs if it crosses the street, three if it actually hits the house.

Mrs. Culver and her yard were two pleasant surprises but there were more. While Tim and I had been the traditional hitters throughout the years, it was plain that a younger Kevin was beginning to surpass us. It was also plain that his supremacy would be short-lived as the younger guys (our sons, Tim and Matt) are coming into their wiffle ball prime and even then, they are looking over their shoulders at the next generation, Sean, who at 15 years old, will soon be beating us all.