"Not Just a Dock on a Lake" began with a poem written by the fifteen-year-old grandson of a inaugural member of CFM.
A young man who enjoys poetry, he had also grown up spending countless hours at the lake. Over the years, the dock became the setting for much more than swimming, boating, and summer days on the water. It became a place filled with friendships, family, laughter, memories, and experiences that helped shape his childhood.
His poem reflected on those years and on something he had come to understand at a remarkably young age: sometimes the places that appear ordinary become extraordinary because of what happens there and the people with whom we share them.
To someone passing by, it might have looked like nothing more than a dock on a lake. To him, it represented a part of growing up that he knew he would carry with him long after those summer days had passed.
LYRICS
Not just a dock on a lake, but my grandparent’s place,
A place where we'd let the hours slip away,
Swimming and fishing almost every day.
Not just a dock on a lake,
It was where our story began.
Not just a place on the water,
But the heart and soul of our family again and again.
Each morning the fishing poles were baited and ready,
Waiting for hungry fish and patient hands so steady.
We knew they'd come out to feast before long,
Before the daylight was gone.
The fishing boat glided across the water so slow,
Fishing rods and tackle boxes slid to and fro.
The boat's rattle and hum became life’s sweetest sound,
Still echoing inside me even... when I wasn’t around.
I remember the chairs, where my parents would sit,
Watching us cast and watching us reel,
Waiting to see what the next line would reveal.
Helping unhook whatever we’d caught that day,
Making another memory that never faded away.
Not just a dock on a lake.
It was where our story began.
Not just a place on the water,
But the heart of our family again and again.
Some folks just saw a dock reaching out into the lake,
But I saw every memory a child could make.
Not just a dock on a lake, but where friends would gather,
Standing on paddle boards… smiles making special bonds with one another.
At the edge of the dock with my dad by my side,
We watched another sunset slowly paint the sky.
Then the lake grew still… resting soft and deep,
Waiting for tomorrow's first cast to break its sleep.
Not just a dock on a lake, but my grandparent’s place,
A place where we'd let the hours slip away,
Swimming and fishing almost every day.
Not just a dock on a lake.
It was where our story began.
Not just a place on the water,
But the heart of our family again and again.
As another perfect summer ended,
we’d gather by the fire pit, roast s’mores in the firelight,
telling stories with laughter into the night.
It wasn’t just a dock
It wasn’t just a lake
It was my grandparents’ place