Black coffee, a ham sandwich and memories

Years ago, perhaps 1954 or there about my father drove my mother and I to my brother's home in Midland, Michigan. This was no small task in those days for there was no Mackinac Bridge. You had to take a ferry across the Straits of Mackinac and the boat trip was about 30 to 40 minutes just on the water. This trip was in November, my mother was going to stay at my brother Dean's home for a couple of weeks and then dad and I would drive down, spend Thanksgiving in Midland and bring mom back home.

When we left the Upper Peninsula I do not think my dad was paying attention to the time of year. You see deer season opened in mid-November and went through the end of the month. The weekend we drove mom to Midland and drove back the next day was the weekend all the deer hunters were driving to the U.P. to go deer hunting.

Normally you did not wait long to cross the "Straits," perhaps half an hour or so. During the weekend before deer season waits of over 24 hours were not uncommon. It is hard to understand the lure of deer hunting in Michigan until you understand the obstacles people will over come to go hunting. In addition to bagging a buck many times you would see cars heading back to the Lower Peninsula with a deer over the front fender and a Christmas tree tied on the roof of the vehicle. It was a tradition for many and the start of the holiday spirit culminated in a Christmas dinner and venison steak.

Well my mother prepared some ham sandwiches for my dad and I from the left over ham we had for dinner Saturday evening. We set out for the "Straits" and encountered "the line" somewhere south of Cheboygan, MI. I have no idea as to distance except you were in a line of cars on the side of the road that stretched on as far as the eye could see and were were out in the woods.

People would get out of their cars, form small groups and talk about the prospects of deer camp. Men wore the traditional red plaid shirts and pants with boots and hunting knives hanging from their belts. Many wore suspenders and had red plaid hats. This was before hunter orange. The talk was of deer, trails, woods and things all exciting a mysterious to a young boy my age. Dad and I joined these groups of men standing along the road drinking coffee and telling tales.

All of a sudden the shout would wind its way down the line, "We're moving up!" Everyone would head for their cars and the line would move up some 60 to 120 car lengths. It meant a ferry had picked up a load and headed back across the straits and space was made in the parking lot and new cars filled in empty sections.

As soon as the line stopped engines were turned off and the groups of men reassembled. Again I would join the groups and listen with my imagination flaring up seeing red plaid assembled men stalking through deep northern woods in search of the elusive White Tail. I could imagine me with rifle over arm slowly proceeding among pines and hardwood forest, moving quietly along the edge of swamp or rivers. A light dusting of snow on the ground for tracking should you not down your deer but have to track it. We were actually along a forested road near Mackinac City and you could see the pines and as night settled in the lore grew even more intense.

I had never drunk coffee black. We had a thermos with us that had black coffee in it and I think we had a couple of sodas that I had polished off long before night fell. The night chill descended and we retreated to our car because we had fairly light clothing on. Nothing like the rugged outdoor clothing the hunters wore. Sitting in the dark dad would run the car to take the chill off and we would listen to the radio.

When the pangs of hunger caught us we would break out a ham sandwich, thick sliced ham on white bread with mustard. We would eat a ham sandwich and sip on black coffee and that leads me to the title.

Today at work I had a ham sandwich, I got a cup of coffee and sat at my desk and ate the ham sandwich with mustard on it and drank black coffee. Those tastes never fail to take me back those many years to that night I had to drink black coffee and eat ham sandwiches because that is all we brought along. Dad thought we'd be home long before we actually were and have a dinner at the Candy Kitchen. The best memories come from a thick slab of ham carved from a left over cooked ham and just some plain old French's mustard slathered on. That rich taste of the ham and the intermingling of the black coffee set my memory bells tingling.

As I remember the wait at the "Straits" was 24 hours or longer that night, but we made it in 12. When we entered the parking lot to take our place in these huge parking lots there was string of cars at the end of the lot going on a ferry. Dad gunned the motor and dashed down the lot, got in the end of the line and made it aboard. We halved the time and thank God we did, we were all out of ham sandwiches and black coffee.