Up until about thirty-six weeks ago, I believed Standing Bear Lake to be nothing more than a popular legend of phantasmal Nebraskan lore. Sure, I had heard of Lake Zorinsky (been know to whiff up there from time to time) and I was even familiar with the waters of Wehrspann (as well as the lesser known "spillway," which I was not speak of here). But Standing Bear Lake I assumed was nothing more than a fictitious land of bliss and a prominent topic amongst the nocturnal ramblings of the street cretins and acid dreamers. I had heard tales of trout fishing and dog walking, but never did pay much mind. That is, until my very dear friend, Marshall von Knicknocker-Johnson (MVKJ is what me and the pack of wolves call him for short, and we typically pronounce it phonetically as "meeev-kejj," which has sparked a number of derivative variations such as "Meevles," "Meeval Knievel" and "Meevle Keeval Butter My Bones, The Pack Is In Town So No Wolf Drinks Alone") told me he had figured out where it was located and had actually visited the place himself. He divulged this information to me over a couple of blasters at the Dubliner Pub, and I simply raised my glass and chuckled, for I was not convinced. Seeing that had dismissed his tale, he sternly proceeded into a detailed, and quite frightening, deposition of his experience at this lake of which I believed to be nothing more than a 420 dream birthed from the waterpipes of Laurence Sterne enthusiasts and sativa users. After I continued to laugh in his face and slap my knee throughout his outrageous story, MVKJ finally threw up his arms and said, "Fine, I'll take you there! Right now, as a matter of fact!"
At this exclamation I cannot honestly say that I was not mildly disturbed. Though I hadn't believed a single word of his story, the thought of venturing out to find this mythical Standing Bear Lake sent a cold chill up my spine. But I couldn't back down now, for if I did I would appear to be weak and afraid, and no Wolf in our pack has ever dabbled in cowardice. So MVKJ and I ordered a final round of bangers from the bar and blasted off westward in search of the lake.
For I while I saw nothing but the typical sights of Omaha. For almost the entire drive there was nothing that really struck me as being abnormal. But suddenly, around 132nd & Fort street, MVKJ made a sharp right turn and the next thing I knew I was face to face with the legend of a lifetime. Not only was the lake itself there, with it's pulsating shoreline and sharp, yellow sand, but I could also see the living and breathing lifeforms that I had dismissed as pure fantasy for so many years. There were four-legged dogs walking alongside bidpedalist humans (neither with a leash, mind you), automobiles that parked themselves between white painted lines on the concrete, ice upon the water that was so thick a full grown human could walk upon it without the aid of psilocybin mushrooms or NASA technology.... Every which way I turned my head there was a real life legend in sight, things that never could have imagined existed on planet earth, let alone in my own backyard. And I mean that quite literally actually, for I lived on 142nd & Huntington for many years, but since I have such an acute phobia of windows and a militant refusal to enter or exit buildings through the back door (except, of course, on the rare occasion of an emergency, such as a fire, flood, etc.), I had never actually seen what was in my backyard. I stood there, simply awestruck, when MVKJ placed his hand on my shoulder and said "C'mon, I think we've seen enough. Now let me buy us a round of blasters downtown."
The rest of our evening was quiet, and eventually the bartender hollered the abominable words "Last call" and we were both forced to turn in. I didn't sleep much that night, unable to silence my mind. Since then I've been known to revisit Standing Bear Lake now and again, as a sort of escape from reality that sativa whiffs and sips of syrup cannot surpass. It is calming to know that places like this do exist, and makes me wonder how much more is out there to see. The inconceivable, both on our planet and beyond, will always be one step ahead of the primitive organisms that dwell in its realm. Standing Bear Lake is evidence of this, and quite humbling evidence at that. For when you take that sharp right turn on 132nd & Fort street, you will find yourself looking into what appears to be an alternate reality. And though it may perplex you, and perhaps even haunt you, it is nothing short of pure unadulterated enlightenment.
Keep your ears open and your eyes peeled as you walk through life, or you just might miss some of its most important gems. read more