Grampa Ruhl is of Bavarian descent. His mother's name was Anna. I don't know much about his ancestry, but he was a bold man with a commanding presence, although a slight but sturdy build. He was on the acrobat team otherwise known as cheerleaders for the University of Michigan football team. He often practiced on us kids, lifting us up on his hands and putting us on his feet to balance as if in mid air. We also jumped into his arms from the stairs at the house on Puritan Road. He was the main person to secure the Joe Lewis Scholarship at University of Michigan. He excelled at golf and bought some land in Naples, Florida, which started out as two golf courses and later became the Moorings retirement center with a hospital and all.
He always urged us to do our best, stand up straight and be goal oriented. He offered each of us a thousand dollars if we could make it to twenty one without taking a smoke. Not one of us made it. When my first marriage failed, I spent Christmas with him down in Naples, and he asked, "Did you love him? Did he love you? Is there any chance things could change with him?" When I answered, "No" he took me out to the end of the Pier and watched me throw my ring into the Gulf of Mexico.
Grampa lived at 525 N. Gulf Shore Boulevard, a stone's throw from the Gulf. The shells we found there were exquisite as was the enjoyment of a sunset shared with the food chain: vis. gnats, flies, gulls, minnows, seatrout, pelicans, and dolphins. Grampa firmly believed in, "The Green Flash" which was to come at the precise moment when the sun hit the horizon. We never ceased looking for it each evening during dinner. The last day of our visit always brought a dinner of stone crab and beer. Even Mom and Dad kept this tradition when they lived in Naples after Dad's retirement. Mom was with Grampa when he spent his last hours on the beach in front of the home in Naples. Mom was a good daughter and learned not a little about real estate from Grampa Ruhl.
Early memories took me up to Petoskey and Harbor Springs in his cigar filled Cadillac, air conditioning pumping all the way. He stopped at a Kresges to buy me my first diary. How did he know I loved to write? I always cherished our one-on-one time, even with the smoky car. We stopped at a pub in Claire to taste the homemade soup of the day, no matter what it was. Very delicious.
Grampa also extended his membership to Orchard Lake Country Club to us whenever we wanted. Aunt Gretchen taught me to sail there. Although we lived only one lake away, I enjoyed going to the club to swim so as not to have to battle the seaweeds found on our beach at Pine Lake. We also loved going to the snackshop to get a hamburger or ice cream cone. Aunt Kathy was also my constant companion when we went there in the summer, darting through the sprinklers on the way from the parking lot to the beach house. I loved the sweet smell of the tall pines mixed with the new mown grass.
My brothers and I also went to Orchard Lake in winter and flew down the many hills on our toboggan. When we exhausted our supply of energy, we changed for a formal dinner with the family. Grampa used to make a rabbit with his big, white napkin and entertain us kids while we waited for the adults to finish their cocktails. He always ordered our kiddie cocktails and relish tray to tide us over til the rich gourmet meals arrived.
Grampa also belonged to Detroit Golf club, but that was mainly for business and golf. I only remember going there a few times and didn't like it nearly as much as Orchard Lake.
The place I liked best to visit with Grampa and the family was The Pere Marquette Rod and Gun Club. The PM club was up in Baldwin, Michigan, and we went there often on weekends, especially long holiday weekends. Grampa's cabin was at the end of a fairly long, narrow, winding, sandy road through the woods, and sat atop a sandy hilltop between the Pere Marquette River and the man made fishing Lake with the dam on the non woodsy side.
The times I went with Grampa out in the canoe or rowboat fishing on the lake were special moments of quiet solitude when Grampa displayed his hidden patience with a novice fisher girl. I would often get the trout up to the boat and see it escape at the most crucial turn. He never got frustrated with me but gently urged me to try again. He often read a book or newspaper during our trips out to the lake. He took me down to the high banks where the bald eagles had a nest atop the tallest pine, right in the middle of the picnic spot. He was always the first to see them flying back to their home. Grampa also showed me how to fly fish in waders in the river, although I never really got the hang of it very well. it was a bit more engaging to fish this way, a more captivating adventure for sure.
We never had to cook when we went to the cabin. The clubhouse fed us all three meals. We got to walk down the sandy road or wood path (but later preferred the wood path due to almost stepping on a huge, blue racer.) We passed the deer licks and headed into the woods, down by a steep overlook of the river, passing only a few cabins until we got to the main camp with many cabins in a circle around the clubhouse. We could bring in our trout to be cooked for breakfast, lunch or dinner. We just sat down and waited for the server to bring us our food. What luxury! I am sure Mom appreciated it more than any of us!
One time our whole family went on the three hour canoe trip down the river, and we stopped on a sandy bank to eat the huge and delicious lunch the kitchen fixed for us. It was that Fourth of July that first brought to me, "My Friend" at age thirteen. My brothers knew Mom had loaned me some of her feminine products, so they were sure to tip my canoe. I was so mad, but a while later I forgave them. It was mainly my older brother, since Andy was only about eight and would never have figured it out.
One hot summer day Aunt Kathy and I went into the woods for a walk fully intending on getting lost. Of course, we ended up on a familiar road and walked all the way back. The down side was I was barefoot, and the road bringing us home was paved, so I arrived home with not a few blisters on the bottoms of my feet.
When we were young, we played, "Statue," a game we made up in which we used to jump off the cliff where the cabin sat down onto the sand below. In whatever position we landed we would freeze, and the, "Buyer" would come and determine what kind of statue we were and if we were deemed valuable enough to purchase. If we had moving parts, it always lent particular motivation to the Buyer.
One very cold night Andy and I made a tent out of a card table and blankets and camped on the beach (adjacent to the cabin across the road.) It got colder and colder, such that the labrador retriever Dad tied out to guard us got cold and shivered and moaned. We did not know said protector was there and thought it was a bear, so we shivered til morning afraid to peek out, in hopes the bear would go away. I am glad we did, for that morning there was a soft, light fog on the crystal lwater, clear yet smooth enough to reflect the deer who had come for their morning drink across the lake by the Tarzan rope. It was a beauty that will never leave my mind.
When evenings did get that cool, we usually sat by the fireplace and piled on blankets, since the three bedrooms off the main room didn't have heat. There were twin beds with just enough room to walk between them, and one dresser in each room. The wool blankets were grey or green, some plaid. Probably from the Traverse Bay Woolen Company.
If it rained we sat on the porch and worked a jig saw puzzle or played games, popped corn in the old fashioned wire popcorn popper over the fire, played the player piano or read. I remember feeling the first bit of independence from my parents up there. Sometimes they let us kids eat with our friends, and sit on the beach around a bonfire later in the night. There were always fireworks on the Fourth.
We got to go on even six hour canoe trips with the aunts and friends which were always a challenge, since the river water was very cold most of the time, and the boys upset our canoes at every turn possible. The Pere Marquette River was the most clear and beautiful river in Michigan to me. One time Kathy, Gretchen and I were skinny dipping down at Cooper's Rollway (right down from the cabin) and scampered out when we heard some fishermen upriver. Later at dinner, we heard some guys at the next table saying, "We were down Cooper's rollway this morning and heard some mighty big trout jumping." We about choked on our food laughing. Oh, the things we three have been known to do when parents weren't watching!
Grampa often took us to Idewilde, a small community of African American neighbors, who had a smoke filled nightclub where we sat for what seemed a long time listening to their most excellently played jazz and blues. The cigarette girl always took our picture (I wish I had one.)
We also went to the PM a few times over New Years. Ice fishing was a challenge but a wonderful vehicle for viewing the constellations on a perfectly clear, bright and vivid canvas. We usually went to a place nearby to hear a Dixie Land style band, and I dance a lot with Daddy.
There was one more 'club' we attended with Grampa Ruhl in the fall during University of Michigan football season. Known as, "The Brown Street Country Club," it was really the parking arrangement Grampa secured each Saturday there was a home game. The people who turned their back yard into a parking lot happened to live on Brown Street very near the stadium. Grampa had fifty yard line seats, which each of us kids had the privilege of using at least one time. We usually got to sit in the end zone, which tickets cost only a buck back then. I imagine they are a lot more than that nowadays. I can remember feeling very trusted when we got to sit down there together while the adults sat at the fifty yard line. Often we were invited to share in the family meal at Brown Street, because Grampa parked there every time we attended a game. They cooked some mean ribs for Yankees.
I will always be thankful for the many privileges I had as a granddaughter of Grampa Ruhl.
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