How long can True Love Survive?

How long can one of a pair, half of a duo, survive without the love of their life? Appearantly 8 months.. to the day. Today my Grandmother went home to be with my Grandpa, her husband, her one true love, and just in time for their anniversary. This entry is for her, for them. God Speed, We love you and miss you.


8 Months ago, my grandfather did the unthinkable. He left the side of his true love. He left behind friends, family and his beloved North woods as well. Monday His true love, Jean Dollard, joined him, home in time for their Anniversary. She loved chocolate ice cream, her children and grandchildren, all without question. Sometimes stern, always loving she buffered the always chattering young boy, and his wonderful GrandDad. She lifted my spirits with wonderful gestures of attempting to press a spoon through pursed lips when I was chastised with "Close your mouth and eat!". She is the inventor of Turtle Pancakes, The scolder of Grackles and squirrels, the nurse to injured birds and lost hummingbirds, Frugal Chef, teacher, church secretary, and a most loved Grandmother. To tell you all the memories I have would require hours and tears that we simply don't have.

I will tell you this though, She loved my Grandfather, and more even than I did. I never heard them speak harshly of one another. She knew humility, kindness, and the importance of knowledge, of learning new things, and she loved music. She had the ability to listen to me pound away on her piano, and even once let me play her Wurlitzer organ, a cherished instrument. To this day I marvel at her ability to listen to my "songs", and her ability to encourage me to continue, to extend my love of music, instead of crush my spirit

I set out to say a few words, to convey my love of my grandparents. I found myself longing for the days lost, of my childhood, and praying that they felt the love they gave in every moment was reflected back in my eyes.

Turtle Pancakes

To this day I do not know if Turtle pancakes were a mistake or a wonderful invention of my Grandmother's. My Grandma makes simply the best pancakes. Somewhere I have the recipe, and one day I will try to duplicate that piece of heaven from my childhood. I think a large part of the "secret" to her pancakes is that they were fried up in a cast iron skillet as I recall, and quite literally swimming in bacon drippings. Bacon was a staple for my Grandpa, or maybe a staple in Grandma's cooking, but in either case there was always a jar of bacon grease available to season the dish Du jour.

Pancakes were not an everyday occurrence, but I know that I had plenty of them at the Lazy Lodge. When you pour pancake batter into a hot skillet that has bacon drippings in it, the edges get crisp and crunchy, caramelized and absolutely tasty! They setup into the shape rather quickly, and if you just pour a pancake in the standard manner, you get a circle. If however, you pour the main pancake, then pour mini-pancakes right at the edge of the circle, just inside the main circle, well.. you can create art... or Turtles... Grandma had a talent with the technique and could create not only circles, but other shapes as well. A trained eye such as mine could see the well formed "head" of a box turtle in many of those pancakes. Pouring them is only half the battle as anyone knows that has made pancakes, turtle or otherwise. Flipping pancakes can be challenging, but Turtle pancakes, it takes a loving wrist to manage that! Now I know I was special, not only because my Grandma went to the effort of creating these Turtle pancakes for me, but Grandpa's were just round. I shared my special pancakes with him from time to time, and on occasion some of the turtles had "broken" legs. I can almost smell them now as my mind takes me on a trip back in time. I see myself sitting at the table in front of their bay window, watching the birds and the Chipmunks, and talking endlessly about Lord only knows what, but that is another story...

Every Summer started....

With a haircut. No matter how I got there, Rain or Shine, Day or Night, the first order of business was a trip to the chair. Haircuts were always admisitered in the garage, which was much more like an office. It was never dirty, nothing was out of place. It was swept and orderly, and stocked with coffee cans and little jars with all manner of screws, bolts, tacks, nails and such. Smack in the middle of the garage, center stage for the haircut, Grandpa would place a big green wooden chair with arms on it. A box placed on the seat would raise me up to the perfect height. Then out would come the sheet. I remember the hair standing up on the back of my neck as Grandpa secured the sheet with a safety pin.

Grandpa knew one cut and one cut only. It was easy to maintain, and incredibly short. The clatter and buzz of the clippers would set to the task of creating the worlds shortest crewcuts. Grandpa was a perfectionist, and no hair was longer than another. The haircut didn't take anytime at all. My hair would fall silently, slipping down the sheet to the concrete floor below. As quick as it began it would be over. Grandpa would use one of those long-bristle brushes to knock away the clippings off my neck, just like a real Barber. Off would come the sheet, and Grandpa would lift me out of the chair and clear of the hair on the floor. The hair was swept up, the sheet shaken out in the drive, and the chair, box and sheet were returned to their proper locations.

This ritual occured each and every time I visited until I was nearly a teenager. Oh that I could sit in that chair again, hear the clatter and feel the buzz of those clippers against my scalp, as my hair fell to the ground, at the hands of my Grandpa.

Welcome to the Lazy Lodge

Join me on a trip through the memories of my childhood spent in the North Woods of Wisconsin. A beautiful place in the woods, on a lake, with my grandparents. What more could a boy ask for!?

With any luck my memory will hold up long enough to get the stories to paper, and maybe give you a glimpse into my endless summers filled with work and love.