Thanks For The Rememories, [[tponetom)

[tponetom]

Recently. I wrote,,,,
a September song. In those early years, September was exciting. But in the middle years, November exploded!
If September is the lyrical month, November is the crescendo of musical accompaniment.
Thanksgiving Day and the ‘Deer Hunting Season’ in Michigan blinds me with a kaleidoscope of ’rememories.’ [[thank You erie dearie)
This is a re-run of a story I wrote some time ago.
In the Continuing Process of Growing Up.
Chapter 15
The summer of 1944 saw the start of two love affairs. One was with a girl and the other with a place. The disparity between the two was obvious. The first, I attacked with devotion and tenacity. The second, would take almost 30 years to cultivate.
For five years prior to that summer, my father had developed a passion for touring the upper peninsula of Michigan looking for a recreational property to buy. He had been frustrated in his efforts until his annual hunting trip in November of 1943. He had found what he had been looking for but he was hesitant about the price and how to manage paying that price.
Mr. Greene owned a hardware store in Gladstone, Michigan. He also owned 160 acres of forest land in the Hiawatha National forest. Private land in any national forest is a rare occurrence. His parcel of land had been homesteaded in the 19th century and had remained private through the years. In the 36 square miles [[or 23,040 acres) township where the property was located, there was barely 1280 acres of private land. The rest of it belonged to the Federal government.
The land was heavily timbered. There was an 8-acre lake in the center of the parcel that Mr. Greene owned. The lake was spring fed. There was a substantial log cabin on the north shore of the lake. It was a hunting cabin. It had a large combination kitchen/ living room and a bunk room that contained four double bunk beds. Hunters always referred to them as ‘fart’ sacks. From the east shoreline, a small hill rose about 80 feet in elevation. During the next 20 years or so, I never once imagined that one day we would build a house, a garage, a pole barn and cultivate three gardens on that hillside. Hey! I was a city boy with too many irons in the fire. Why would I want to go poking around a forest?
The asking price of the property was $ 2,000.00, and it was firm! When Dad came home after the hunting season he told Ma about it. She had three words for him. “Are you nuts?” He was chagrined and dismayed by her lack of enthusiasm, but he kept after her all that winter. Her argument was that the house we were living in cost $ 2,200.00 in 1935 and she couldn’t see spending almost that much for a seasonal dwelling. Another argument was the distance factor from Detroit which was 440 miles. Having six children to support did not help his case either.
During those tough years of the Depression and the war that followed, Dad and Ma had their fights and quarrels or arguments but they also had something else. They had a love for each other that was totally obvious. Not the cloying or obsequious kind of love that is more of an exhibition but rather, the kind that just oozes out with a little half smile and a warmth that is always glowing.
Dad got a very generous proposal from Mr. Green. He would accept $ 500.00 a year for four years with no interest but Dad had to act soon, because, as Mr. Green kept reminding him, “Those trees keep growing and every year they are worth a little bit more.”
So Dad cajoled and Ma capitulated as they both knew she would and Dad bought the property or “camp” as it would forever after be called. We are going to camp. We will stay at camp for two weeks. We will be leaving camp. For me, at the age of 15, it was a blah. The following summer I got my first car. A 1931 Hupmobile. It would frustrate and dominate my life for the next few years. Don’t talk to me about going to ‘camp.’ I couldn’t care less.
After Peggy and I were married in 1949 we made occasional four day, week end trips to camp during the 1950's. No big deal. No excitement. It was just something to do
Dad reveled in his camp life. It did not take Ma very long to become equally enthusiastic. She would go to camp in the summer with Dad for a couple of weeks but she would also go with her sisters, Irene and Libby and her sister in law, Leona and they all had a ball. They were all extroverts who knew how to have a good time, and did they ever!
Throughout the fifties I had other priorities. A wife, two children, and resigning myself to the facts of life that dictated I settle down and get focused on a career. And so I did.
In February of 1963, Dad went out with his brother Frankie to shoot pool. It was a pastime that had developed in their youth.
Later that evening, uncle Frankie would call me and asked me to meet him at the hospital.
Dad had suffered a heart attack. Dad was standing by the pool table waiting for his turn when he just keeled over. Uncle Frankie said he was dead before he hit the floor.
Dad was a big man, six feet, two inches tall. A handsome man, he had the rugged good looks of an outdoors man. He was affable and had a good ear for listening. When he spoke, everyone listened. When he smiled at you, you just felt good all over. All of his close friends called him Vince, but everyone else called him Mr. O’Neil. He simply had that awe inspiring intimidation that emanated from his persona, not of fear, but rather, respect. An odd thing was, his usual dress was his khaki brown work suit. On the special occasions when he had to dress up, he would put on his gray Kuppenheimer suit and Ma would just gush over him. “Oh, just look at your Dad. Isn’t he just the limit?”
The shock of his sudden death at age 59, and the sadness of the funeral began to ebb after a few weeks. We began to talk about the future and the things that had to be resolved. Things like, “what to do with the “camp?” When Ma asked me for my opinion, I made the irrevocable statement, “Sell the darn place.” I could not have cared less, or so I thought.
I did not know it at that time, but the seed of that second love affair had been sown. The cultivation of that seed would be slow and tedious and somewhat grudgingly accomplished.
I went to camp that summer for a few days by myself if only to survey, for my own satisfaction, what it was that so captivated my father and now, even my mother.
He had remodeled the cabin to make it more desirable for Ma. He added a large living room with two picture windows overlooking the lake, new and larger windows in the kitchen, a new roof and a new foundation around the entire cabin.
It was comfortable, and rustic, and peaceful, and scenic, and private, and, well, it was kind of nice.
Little did I know.
To be Continued.

　
　



　

[Bobl]

Happy Thanksgiving Day, tponetom and Peggy!

Yours is a great love story.

Eagerly awaiting the next entry...

[gazhekwe]

Have a very wonderful Thanksgiving! I am thankful for the stories. I can see a lot of maple syrup coming up in this series, to go with the sweetness of life in the woods.

[Maof]

can't wait for the next installment T. you and peggy have a happy thanksgiving

[Trumpeteer]

Had an Aunt Irene, called her "Red" due to her hair, and an Aunt Leona. Aunt Irene's husband was "Fat" and not due to weight. I remember all my Aunts & Uncles getting together in the little basements of our homes [[Dad rented all the time and we moved a lot) and just watching them drink, play cards, and laugh. I miss those times!

[mikefmich]

MOAR!!!
I had a place in the Hiawatha Natl Forest near Boot Lake for 31 yrs. Thought I was ok with selling it two years ago.....sorry I did now. Guess I held the place more precious than I thought.

[tponetom]

mikefmich;
MOAR ???? I cannot unravel that acronym?

Perhaps one day we could cry on one anothers shoulders.

We had practical reasons for leaving the Forest. Age, physical problems and mostly worry about me dieing up there and leaving Peggy stranded.

[mikefmich]

lol....Moar is what my young cousin says when she gets excited. Moar=More. I did see Part II after I replied above. Looking forward to the rest.

Yes, I understand the practicality of your decision exactly. Nearly my entire life I figured on moving up permanently when I retired.

The U.P. is a wonderland, and will always be home to some of my fondest memories.