Ghosts came to the cookout

Saturday evening, August 12, 2014 was the end of a nice. Terry and I had gotten quite a bit of work done around the house and we were set to enjoy some grilled pork chops, dressing and collard greens. It was cocktail hour, which at our retirement home means it is 4 PM.

I got an urge to cook the chops over a real fire instead of gas grill or charcoal. I rounded up some nice chunks of cedar. I like cedar, it burns clean and hot and produces wonderful glowing coals.

After round one I started a fire in the old grill I have and got it burning nicely. In the meantime the sun was setting which back lights our woods just west of the house. It is a magical time with light streaming through small openings in the tree canopy illuminating pieces of ground. Terry and I are slowly naming some of these areas, such as our Garden of Good and Evil. The appearance of a beam of light on some small bushes in the woods makes me think of the cover of the book by that title. Sometimes light will shine through a bird feeder making it look like someone turned on a light. Such is our entertainment.

Finally the coals were ready and I put the pork chops on. Standing by the grill with a drink in hand enjoying the woodsy scene and our dogs lying peacefully on the patio gave rise to the ghosts. One my favorite memories of being a young person in Munising revolves around family and an old cabin on Ostrander Lake.

My grandfather, James Dean built that cabin out of logs he harvested. It was a very rustic cabin that did have LP gas for lighting and cooking, but that had been installed in the 60's. Before that, the only means of light was lanterns, cooking was over a wood stove. Water was pumped from a hand pump in the house.

My sisters and their husbands would come up north to visit Mom and Dad in the summertime and stayed out at camp. In the evening after Dad got off work we would gather a the cabin and more often than not we would cook out on an old charcoal grill. Mom made potato salad, other sides and food was abundant. But it was the conviviality of the time that sticks out in my mind. Brother Pete Disher and Chap Smathers would start telling stories. Both were very good, but Chap could do Swedish accents that were just hilarious. My sister Carol with her flashing Irish eyes and wonderful sense of humor was caught up in the laughter as was my sister Phyl who could join in just fine. Carol had the reputation of butchering jokes and it was always uproarious when she would usually tell the punch line and then try to fill in the empty space. My mother stood quietly by admiring her children and enjoying the togetherness. My dad would roar with laughter and I am sure that lake resounded with the sounds of this family's gathering.

As I was grilling the pork chops with a Manhattan in my hand I sensed the gathering of old. Sure enough, there was Carol laughing and enjoying a drink along with Chap, Pete and Phyl and Mom and Dad. We were all gathered under my Cedar tree overlooking our woods in the peacefulness of our back yard.  Jokes were being spun, I just couldn't hear them, but I sensed the merriment. Talk was of the times, of friends, and of places and people everyone had enjoyed over the past year since the last time they had gotten together. You know the type of talk, "catching up." I stood there in silence caught up in the moment and just could see my Dad rocking back and forth on his feet laughing as only he could.

Then the pork chops were done. I promised to the assemblage that we would have another cook out soon and I'll bet the ghosts will show up again. God love them all.

A Toast!

A toast to my wife. She turned 64. A more loving woman I cannot imagine, nor a more caring one. She is loyal, she is gentle, and she loves me more than I deserve. Yet I have taken care of her. She isn't good with financial issues and I have provided for her. She can buy things if she wants, we can enjoy good food, and our property is paid for. In retirement we can relax and bask in our mutual efforts to live in a rural, olde tyme way.

Yet intruding on this scene is my cancer history and her diabetes. We both have crosses to bear that may make our life short and our  time together brief. I pray not, so does she. The longer we live in "our" log cabin and improve our land and grow small crops the greater the ownership we feel. History is being lived and enjoyed, day after day, month after month and year after year. I am 69 and she is 64, we hope to have many more days of taking care of the land, growing things, and planting flower beds. We hope there is much grass to mow, and much land to clear that we may enjoy the look of the sun filtering through the trees and the filling the senses with joy and beauty.

It may sound surreal, and to some degree it is. However, we sit and drink our cocktails and talk of the flowers and watch the Downy Woodpecker come it to feed at the suet biscuit. We watch the dragon fly sit on the clothesline and dart to and fro snatching its meal that is too small for us to see. We watch ants march across the clothesline from 4:30 to 5:30 as if they had schedule to keep. We watch the dragon fly make room for them as they are not his prey. These are the things we watch and talk about.

We talk of the herb garden that I am working on preparing. We talk of what plants need water tomorrow. We talk of the Peaches coming ripe and how shall we process the bountiful crop it appears we are going to have. We talk with our children on the phone and laugh at their humor and rejoice in the success. We talk about what improvements we would like to make, but we enjoy what we have done already. "Blackie" the Black Walnut tree we uncovered from "honeysuckle" vine is flourishing in the light of day the freedom of weight on its branches. Bentley, a cherry tree forced to a right angle to the ground by the weight of the vines is presenting a wonderful, gravity defying attempt to grow, and we shall support it as we must. The small flower bed in front of Blackie and Bentley is thickening and looking better and better as the days move along.

Things are at peace in the house and home. We are growing old and both hope we have many more years to enjoy our efforts.