On Fam'Ly Traditions - 1st Third

The one time before they had brought me along - to this cabin - to fish on this lake...this primitive structure that Leo - Dad's granddad - had constantly threatened to sell... I was a toddler...Father was thirty...his dad was 60...and Leo...a spry 85...and this was the first time we'd ever been back since the summer my grandfather fell. Back in September of '75, Mathias - my granddad - was suddenly killed. He'd climbed up the side of a silo, then slipped...a good forty feet to the ground. Otherwise healthy - we couldn't be angry he'd tried what he had on his own - and the doctor assured us he'd not have survived regardless of when he'd been found. Always their “TRIO”...'til I'd reached the age when the three of them felt I was ready, agreeing that...if I could swim and sit silent for virtually hours on end - I'd be an asset - at eight an' a half - to a trip they were certain was worth all of the time, and all of the effort -- and all of the money they'd spend. That was the one and the only “tradition” I'd gotten to share with - the “TRIO” on account o' the fact that seven weeks later...a third of their “TRIO” was gone. The fishin' trips ended abruptly that year...and we’d not have been here today had I not requested - because of my grades - we go...and take Leo along. On July 17th ...with Dad turnin' 40...and Leo - a spry 95... for me havin' graduated top-of-my-class, I asked if he'd grant me a wish. “Bein' July - for twenty odd years - is the month you’d make trips of the cabin...how 'bout tomorrow...me, you, an' great grandpa - run up there an' catch us some fish?” “Sounds like a winner,” my father replied, “I just finished plantin' the corn. We'll buy us some food and some beer when we get there, as well as some ice and some wood. I'll cook the breakfasts 'cause Denny McCallister sent me some pictures last year showin' how a twister'd left nothin' but splinters where - “make-ya'-puke-Millie's” - had stood! “Now, Millie's Cafe - I’m sure you remember - was known for its pitiful food, but over in Shelby...at “Donovan's Tavern”...from six to eleven o'clock... Meals that you'd never expect could be found in a town of - two hundred and two - were so stinkin' good...if you ran outta dough...you'd've put your old lady in hock!” A few minutes later I overheard Dad - as he checked on how Leo was doin' - and I was delighted to hear him say...“Wonderful...try to be ready by five,” Then told him goodbye, and continued...“He's game...and he's really excited to boot, which means that the two of us get up at 4...be nice to have someone help drive!” Our flat bottom boat had been worked to the back of the vehicles kept in the barn, so digging it out would be quite an ordeal...and...as far as the permits required And licenses needed to fish were concerned...provided the place was still there...Black Bear Marina had always been where things we'd need, of that sort, were acquired. By just after sundown we'd checked all the tires and lights on both trailer and boat, then hit the hay early - a tad before ten - and set our alarm clocks for four. By 4:35 we were runnin' the road to a place where I'd only been once, and Leo...as both of us knew that he would be...was sittin' in wait at his door! Twelve hours later we pulled into Shelby, and - sure enough...Millie's was gone...but there, in her place, was a brand new McDonald's...beside it...a Holiday Inn! Entering town on the Boulder Lake blacktop - lining the highway - both ways - several examples of how towns can change would remind us of --- how it had been. Occasionally towns of this sort would resist their chances to grow and expand, and we were disgusted to see what a focus on - trying to get current - had done. “Can't blame a town for attempted improvements...but this is insane,” Leo snapped, “it's lookin' to me like...whenever they voted....the folks of our sort never won!” What we were witnessing shouldn't 've surprised us...a decade was plenty of time for even a town as remote as was Shelby to lure in a bunch of the -- “chains”. Only more anxious to make our way out to the cabin and check out the cabin - we saw the changes as - losses, of course, while the “newbies” perceived them as gains! I made the comment, “I'm sure the old-timers...who've lived here for more than ten years, are sorry they - opened the door - to this...“progress”....I'm bettin' that Donovan's does.” But Father and Leo were both close to bawlin' when - pausing to wait out a light - Dad would explain...“Son...that Amoco station -- is sittin' where - Donovan's was! “Shelby was one of the quaintest - and prettiest - towns in Wisconsin,” he'd add. “I wonder how many destructive “improvements” these butchers have made to the lake. I noticed a sign readin' - 'Boulder Lake Campground' - a couple o' miles from town. No way o' tellin' what heart breakin' changes these -- “lovers of progress” 'll make.” Today we all know...by what happened to Branson...for decades a three--cafe--town...that every development made - close to water - that proves a “commercial success” - Has greatly diminished the “lure” for what people, who simply - go fishing to - fish - come there to find...and the “auras” are ruined by...people who couldn't care less! Now, don't miss the 2nd and 3rd parts, it's a very meaningful piece - Thanks for reading so far - Mark