An Old Friend Called

It was Friday morning, 3/21/08 and I was home with our Grandson Sam sitting at the computer enjoying a cup of coffee while Sam and I whiled away some time. The phone rang and when I answered a voice on the other end said, Tom ------, Joe ----. Instant transport to a land of memory. Joe and I grew up two houses apart in Munising, MI. Joe is a little older than I, which is part of a different story, but we ended up in the same grade and are classmates from high school. More than that, we are like brothers. I was the youngest of four and for the most part my siblings were gone in my childhood years, Joe was an only child. So, we played together, not so much when were were toddlers, but perhaps around the age of 4 or 5 we came together. From there on it was one childhood experience after another.

Joe and I talked for about an hour. I cannot tell you how many memories came flooding back as we visited. Joe was in DePere, WI with his daughter Kerry who had major let surgery to repair her patella tendon and had been in a cast for two months. Joe stayed with her during her recuperation and part of her rehab, he is close to going back to Munising. He said he was thinking of me and wanted to know how I was doing after my cancer surgery. Fine, then on to the memories.

The old hill next to St. Martin's store, Bob Oas eventually built a home there, but we made the slope into a ski hill and I fell trying to jump really hard, hit my tail bone and disappeared home with a broken ski and tears in my eyes. Then the hill where the old West Ward school was, it was before Bob Gauthier build a home on the property. It was a much larger hill and Joe held the hill record at 30'. The "U" hill up above the town out by St. Martin's farm. The walk to the old golf course, Joe said it is now a forest. Perch Lake, we walked there a few times to fish, now it is the site of some gorgeous homes of Munising residents that sport some cash. The Annie River, still a good little trout stream. Chipmunk valley on the far west end where we used to dig up worms, and someone had left a "tarzan," a rope tied to a heavy limb that swung out over a deep valley. Brown's Addition and the commercial fishing fleet that used to dock there, fishing from the piers and watching the fishing tugs come in with catches of Whitefish, and Lake Trout. There still is one commercial fisherman left there, VanLandshoots, and it is still one of the families that fished out of Brown's Addition. Swimming down near the site of the current high school by the old lumber dock pilings. The Davis's, the Jaspers, the Pond's, my my, the memories were a feast for the old mind.

We ended up the conversation talking about seeing one another this coming summer and walking again those streets we prowled as youngsters. We shall visit old haunts, old ski hills, and old memories. It will be nice to be together in that setting. We can never go back, but we are now two older men who have fond memories of growing up together and look forward to spending some time together.

An Old Time Elixer

I think that I have written about this before, but it comes to mind this morning some thoughts about coffee. Years ago in Munising, MI we had an IGA store. IGA stood for Independent Grocers Association, I really know nothing of its roots although I take it to mean that each store was locally owned and joined a group of grocers who through their collective size could buy in quantities that would give them some price breaks. The IGA was on Elm Street in Munising and was actually quite small compared to the Red Owl store. Like the Red Owl it had its own coffee grinding machine. A device where patrons could purchase whole bean roast coffee and grind it to a setting they desired for their own pleasure.

I loved the smell of ground coffee. To this day when I get a whiff of the aroma of freshly ground coffee it takes me to small homes, older couples arising and brewing coffee to be sipped as they listened to radios, read a paper, or just shook off the effects of sleep and prepared to transition into the activity of day.

For some reason I associate fresh ground coffee with older folks. I do not remember any young people grinding coffee at these commercial grinders although I am sure they did. Perhaps as we grow older we learn to be a little more patient and take some time to savor the odors of the morning, or the tastes of the day. I conjure up fantasies of an older woman brewing coffee in some ancient pot, or some old home style that requires time and steeping to bring out the full flavor of the bean. I feel like there are old people who sit around their small breakfast table, a hot cup of coffee to warm their bones and small conversation over what chores, events, or scenes will play out on that day. It feels good to have these thoughts, I have a pot of fresh ground coffee brewing as I write this, and now shall end the writing to begin the day.