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.