Stubborn Silhouettes
Glenn, MI
June 14, 2020
Yesterday, for a few hours in the early afternoon, we made ourselves scarce.
This slice of paradise is, alas, for sale. As it is being spruced up and shown off, we make a point to head out. During a planned showing earlier in the week, we spent an hour walking on the beach. As it happened, the prospects didn’t show, but the walk was welcomed.
Yesterday we cleared out for a few hours to accommodate another showing and an open house. In preparation, Keith the carpenter was here in the morning to repair wooden planks along the backyard boardwalk. He has had a major role making the house what it is today.
As we discussed his handiwork, I was reminded of our years here. Remodeled kitchen, new master bath, expanded screen porch, and stairs to the beach are significant enhancements since our first visit.
We had just driven 13 hours with an 18-month old when we arrived after 1:00 in the morning. Our only desire was to set up the crib, put Alexander to bed, and get some sleep. Not till the light of the following morning did we understand why we made the long drive, and why George had for several years implored is to do so.
Rising to a rhythmic crashing of unseen waves, we rubbed our eyes and walked from the front bedroom to the back deck. Beyond a verdant lawn and behind an array of colorful blossoms, an expanse of deep blue spread to the extent of our vision. We were hypnotized, and hooked, by the scene and the sound. For most of the following 18 years, they brought us back to this place that has been the cornerstone of our summers.
This was no “lake”. This was a fresh water ocean, an inland sea. We could have been eyeing the Caribbean, the Baltic, or…as my wife did in her childhood…the Black Sea. Below, at the base of a steep cliff, spread a wide, almost private, beach.
For a week each summer, we have spent our days seated on its sand, and using it to build castles with our sons. We’d swim in the lake, and picnic by its shore. As respite, we’d pass a few afternoons in the nearby towns of Saugatuck, South Haven, or Holland.
Abundant berries and cherries provided additional memories of my wife’s early years. Returning from town, we’d stop at nearby farms, and pick buckets of seasonal fruit. Over the years, the respites became routines, which evolved into rituals.
But they were our rituals, and the week would feel diminished if one were missed. As the boys grew, we added rounds of golf at nearby HawksHead links. One year, David and I rode the dunes above Saugatuck. Another, Alexander and I zip lined in Allegan. Otherwise, not much changed…nor would we have wanted it to.
This week, however, did offer a welcome wrinkle.
Katy and Perry made the trek from Chicago Friday evening. That night, Rita made a delicious dinner of shrimp and pasta, washed down with sauvignon blanc and Ashley’s rosé.
Yesterday, after Keith finished his work, we vacated the house so the real estate agent could do his. Katy and Perry went to South Haven, we to Saugatuck.
The town was bustling. All places were open, many were full, tho’ some rationed entry or required masks. We found lunch at Wicks Park, where Alexander’s attire attracted cries of “War Eagle!” The owner graduated from Auburn, and has since settled in Saugatuck and opened this place.
After filling ourselves, we attempted to walk it off with a stroll thru town. The day was perfect. No clouds, little humidity, slight breeze, cool temperature. We reached the channel, along which stood several beautiful homes. Behind them, rising waters covered the bases of trees and portions of lawns as it inched ever-closer to the susceptible structures. We retreated to higher ground, and back to the house.
We all returned late afternoon, and camped atop the bluff to gaze across the sea. Last night, Perry grilled delectable cuts of steak and lamb. We poured drinks, shared stories, and marveled at the artistry of the setting sun on an endless horizon. I didn’t want the day, or the week, to end. But that has always been my wish whenever we are here. It has yet to be granted.
Katy and Perry are here till tomorrow. We will shove off today. So, this morning, we endure another ritual. We are cleaning, packing, and preparing once more to depart, with memories added to an overflowing fund.
For those, we must thank our hosts. George and Molly have for almost two decades been gracious and generous in allowing us to make their home our own. As noted above, that home has seen many changes. As have we.
The baby that joined us for our initial visit is now a young man, starting college. He and his younger brother have grown up with this place. They are among few Southerners who annually travel north to go to the beach. Or who would even think to.
This may have been our last opportunity to do so. Our hosts have kindly offered us more time here at the end of July, contingent upon them still owning it. I hope they do.
It’d be awkward having new owners show up, only to find us enjoying the view over morning coffee, or sipping wine on their back deck…stubborn silhouettes sharing someone else’s sunset.
JD
