Art & Gretta..

OMg, where do I start with those two?  The two of them were de-lightful, de-lovely and de-licious.  To this day, I hold both of them dear to my heart and count myself blessed by their lessons.

Growing up I spent my summers in northern 'sconsin on Upper Bass Lake at the end of the "road" adjacent to the boat landing.  It was wonderful.  Three blocks up the road and two if by sea were Art and Gretta.  They were older than the solar system and just precious.  She cooked, canned and baked.  He fished and tinkered.  There wasn't a damned thing he couldn't fix.  I loved them immediately and they welcomed me with open arms.  They were my surrogate grandparents.

From the end of our dock I could see him out there, fishing.  I would take the row boat over just to visit.  We would eat homemade cookies and I would help him put worms on his hooks.  Yeah, I know, not a pretty combination.  Eww...  But such is LIFE a half a century ago!!!  I didn't kill me so I guess all is well.  Hey, if you don't eat some dirt and guts how the hell are you going to develop an immune system???

The two of them were friends to my family from the word go.  We stored our boats in his pole building during the winter, as well as our "summer car".  Free of charge.  That was just Art's way of saying "welcome to the family".

When I was nine our wooden rowboat began to leak.  Art was not happy to say the least.  The two of us hauled her ashore, let her dry out and set to work.  We scrubbed her, brushed her, took her down to bare wood, recaulked her, repainted her and outfitted her proud.  She was red, white and blue and magnificent.  We gave her a name, Penelope.  Which of course Gretta painted on her sides.  For my birthday that year Art gave me new oars and Gretta gave me a new anchor made out of a one gallon paint can full of concrete that was painted to match the boat.  I was ten and in heaven.  These two were a gift of unimaginable wealth.  And both of them in their 80's.

They were both from Minnesota, she from Bemidji, he from Alexandria.  They were true "Scandahooovian's" and they both had hearts as big as all outdoors.  They first met at a county fair in 1903.  They were married a year later.  They had more children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren than an ant hill.  Art taught me how to bait a hook and Gretta taught me how to make avelskievers.  Google that if you must.  Think of a wonderously rich round pancake the size of a golf ball just slavered in homemade preserves and you get the idea...  Heaven on a plate!!!

When Art died early in the spring of 1969 my family flew back for the funeral.  The turnout was something akin to the Super Bowl.  Gretta was devastated.  She had lost her one and only true soul mate.  In the middle of that summer Gretta once again joined Art.  The dock was empty.  The house was empty.  No more delicious smells from the summer kitchen.  No more homemade cookies.  No more worms.  No more Art and Gretta.

I anchored "Penelope" out in the middle of the lake and swilled down a stolen six-pack of dad's Hamm's beer and screamed like a banshee.  That was the day I discovered keening decades before I knew what that actually meant.  I was 16 and hurting.   And then I puked my eyeballs out.

Art and Gretta...  I still remember you well, I hold you in my heart and still recall the smell of cookies and the feel of worms.  And a rowboat named "Penelope".  And a paint can full of cement.  You were both my anchor in more ways than you could have ever known at the time...  Thanks for the memories!!!