Our plan was to leave Bellaire on Monday after lunch and head down to Muskegon to spend the night. We wanted to position ourselves for smooth sailing -- or rather ferrying -- across Lake Michigan the next day.
We ended up going out to lunch in Charlevoix, a town about 25 miles north, where John admired the flower gardens that lined the streets. We had a scrumptious meal at The Weathervane and returned to the cabin. By that time, John was ready for a nap and I wanted to get out and on the road before he went to sleep so that we could have our good-byes without disturbing him. We were pretty much packed and so it was just about loading the car.
Before we left, John showed me the place he'd picked out to hang his miners' lamp, a prominent position that would do it proud. I was suddenly aware of how fond I had become of this kindly man in the very short time I'd known him. It became a priority at that point to get out on the road before the dam opened (anyone who knows me knows I leak a lot, and easily).
We just about made it, when John trundled out to the car to give us a couple of bottles of water for our journey. See what I mean?
After we got home, John took a nap, I trawled through papers and pictures and others set about creating the birthday feast: kebabs and roast potatoes were the main items, with lots of munchy stuff on the side. I didn't know where I was going to find room for more food, but you know what? I managed just fine.
As excited as Elizabeth was about the 4th of July, I was about 10 times more excited for John to open the gifts we'd brought. We'd thought long and hard about what to buy an 84 year old man we'd never met, with not very many ideas. It was Bill who spotted the miner's lamp at Beamish and later went back to purchase one.
About a week before we were due to leave, inspired by Sharon mentioning a similar project she'd done for another of her family members, I decided to try doing a family history book. Bill says he hardly saw or spoke to me for that week, I was so absorbed in pulling it together. Sharon kindly proofed it and I added pictures from her and from Frank in Scotland (I mean, if you have a picture of a relative in a kilt, you just have to put it in, right?).
After shopping for the just right binder with no luck, Bill pulled one out of his cupboard that was just what I wanted, except that it was black. So, at about the last minute, I made a simple book cover. I included a CD in the back pocket
with an electronic copy of the book's contents for any other family members who were interested. John seemed to like it a lot and I was well pleased with his response.
And then we had the piece de resistance: flag cake. There was a wonderful cake underneath, but with all that luscious whipped cream, and the beautiful strawberries and blueberries, who cares?
A visit to the fleamarket at Brownville was on the agenda for Saturday. I can't say John was particularly enthusiastic about this and I did remark that on his birthday a guy should get to do what he wanted, but he eventually allowed himself to be persuaded. He rode in our car and on the way told us that he would be visiting his good friend, a lady who makes and sells donuts there. I said I'd noticed most of his friends were women, and he agreed that this was likely so -- some of the best friends, anyhow.
The next I saw him he had a bag of little donuts and insisted I take one (or more). Oh, I can close my eyes now and taste that warm cinammon and sugared heaven.
I was determined not to buy anything -- we have plenty of fleas already, you know. I did take some photos of things that struck me as being unlikely to be found at the Tynemouth fleamarket, plus some ideas I had for my own crafting efforts. Bill, fortunately, took pictures of people.
In the end, I did end up buying a gorgeous apron for $2 and an aged linen table cloth for $5, and I'm not a bit sorry.
We loaded up the boat as sunset was nearing. John fretted about the number of people and Colleen did repeated calculations. In the end, Mark, Colleen's husband decided not to go, which I thought was sad. Then again, he had some quiet time and perhaps that was his preference; most mornings he was up and gone fishing on the boat, though I pointed out that as he released his catch, we had only his word for what he caught! Several people brought blankets to bundle up against the chill.
The neighbours were in their boat and together we headed south along with many others. John commented several times on the astonishing
number of boats that had gathered, easily 100 or more; I thought about how much disposable income this represented.
I was busy capturing sunsets and moonlight on the water.
It occurred to me that the advantage of watching fireworks from the boat would be not just a good vantage point, but the added drama of their reflection on the water. It seemed forever until the fireworks started; the lake sheriff nudged a number of us back, saying we wouldn't like it if we were too close and there was a dud. Finally they began and of course Bill and I stook a stupid number of firework pictures, just like we did last year at Lake Ponca. Of course it was all gorgeous and irresistable.
When it was over, everyone raced back home. It was pitch black but for the boat lights, and just a tad bumpy. All of Bill's and my pictures are blurred streaks of coloured lights.
John had worried about us getting home. Some teenagers who came onto the lake some time previously through the public access at the 'bottom' had vandalised the light on his float, normally used to find their pier. I was a bit concerned myself, it seemed we were racing along blind it was so dark, but I shouldn't have worried: Captain Colleen's trusty GPS took us straight into the right dock, no problems.
Saturday morning Colleen served blueberry pancakes and bacon for breakfast; talk about being spoiled! Elizabeth woke up very excited and reminded everyone that it was the 4th of July -- I'd actually forgotten it. I was looking forward more to the day after, John's birthday.
I spent the day interviewing John and other family members, pen and notebook in hand, and pouring over the memorabilia and John and Colleen thought to pull out and share. John played football for the University of Oklahoma, as did his dad. Out came old yearbooks and photographs. There were also lots of lovely pictures of his late wife and of his mother.
We got so engrossed in what we were reading and discussing that Bill had to go outside to get our picture, snapping it through the window from the deck!
John didn't have a lot of answers to direct questions about specific people, but I soon found that if I just sat with him, he shared memories as they surfaced and it was all good stuff as far as I was concerned. He had stories about his grandfather, his father and his uncles. Unfortunately he didn't remember my grandfather much and he'd never met my mom, but he knew that my uncle Bernard had been a ballroom teacher! That pleased and amused me no end.
Besides getting bits of family history, I enjoyed sitting with John. He was very good company. Although obviously successful and talented, he didn't brag about his achievements so much as express the pleasure he had in looking back at them. Once he figured out that I truly was interested in whatever about his past he wanted to share, he seemed to relish my following him around, scribbling. He told me to be sure to put in my 'book' that he had 8,450 hours of IFR flying time. This is how he managed to cover so much of his sales territory, which he told me at one time was the Western Hemisphere. Whenever a joke came to mind, he passed those along as well.
I forget what we had for lunch, but it seemed to come only about 10 minutes after breakfast. I know we had brat sausages and hamburgers for dinner - about 10 minutes after lunch. Soon after that it was time to get in the boat and go watch fireworks.
We stopped in Cadillac and I wrestled with unfamiliar coinage (when did we get $1 pieces?) and a rare and vanishing breed - the old fashioned pay phone - to get directions to the cabin from Colleen. Turned out we still had a couple of hours to go.
I don't think I had a picture in my mind of what it would look like, but if I did, the reality was about 5 times bigger and 100 times more amazing. There was a gravel path through a wooded area from the main road to the cabin. We arrived slightly ahead of schedule and surprised Mom's cousin, John, and two of his granddaughters, Cheyenne and Elizabeth. Colleen was grocery shopping and arrived about half an hour later. After we unpacked the groceries, she showed us our bedroom upstairs
(we got the luxury treatment, ours was the one with the sitting area and the toilet just outside), the spare fridge with the drinks and the food schedule on the fridge in the kitchen and told us to help ourselves to what ever. I thought the upstairs bedrooms were very European: the sink is very convenient for getting ready in the morning.
Then we had a tour of the cabin. It was the main lodge of what used to be a boy's camp with several other cabins, all but one of which has been taken down. They said the cabin dated back to around the turn of the last century; they had pictures of the boys at the camp wearing shirts adorned with swastikas, well before that symbol became associated with Nazi Germany. Apparently it was previously a good luck symbol.
The cabin was originally one big single story building, to which John and his late wife, Billie, added the second floor with dormers, consisting of 4 bedrooms, 2 baths and a sitting area. The downstairs had two large bedrooms, a bathroom with a sauna, an office, and an open plan kitchen. John told me it was about 4,000 square feet altogether. They'd also added a large deck on the back which overlooks
the lake and their pier and 'float'
(a square thing to sit on when swimming; also has a light for finding the boat dock at night). The cabin was stuffed with beautiful and fun things to look at: family photos, memorabilia of John's college days, metal sculptures and every sort of knick-knack one could imagine.
Torch Lake is glacial, I was told, as in created by glaciers. Though the shore was quite shallow, one could see the colour change (see that dark blue part before you get to the tree line on the opposite side?) indicating the different depth in the middle. John said it was nearly 400 feet deep in
places. The water temperature according to his thermometer was 65 F. and I did intend to go for a swim with the others, but never got around to it, in spite of the fact that John -- who loves to tell jokes -- gave me a wooden disk with 'round tuit' written on it.
Bill had Googled Torch Lake and found a video showing a dock area crammed full of sunburned people drinking and playing 16 different kinds of loud music; he was a bit worried about that. Our experience was the exact opposite: John's section of the water front was his own, there weren't even more than 2 or 3 boats in sight at any one time; we couldn't have asked for a more serene location. It's no wonder John and Billie chose to live here. I was incredibly grateful to have been invited to share in this beautiful place even for a few days.
I had two main goals for this part of the holiday: suck up as much family history (information and pictures) as possible; also, to get to know these new family members -- about 10 of them -- just as well as I could. I had about 3 1/2 days to do this in. My work was cut out for me!
We just about made it, when John trundled out to the car to give us a couple of bottles of water for our journey. See what I mean?
