It was the summer of 1965 and I was a happy boy of nine years old. I learned about death a few years earlier when JFK was shot down in Dallas. It was my first experience with death, and mostly what I remember was how everyone around me was so sad. I seemed to feel more badly for those living with sorrow over this event than the event itself. Possibly I didn't understand the concept of death at that young age, but I definitely understood the gloom of sorrow others had. I just wanted to comfort them and tell them it would be alright.
My father and mother had both been married before I was conceived. Each had a son and daughter from their previous marriages. But they found each other and decided to have me. My mother was 39 and my father was 42 when I was born. My parents were older than any of my friends parents, although my mother looked 15 years younger than her true age. I remember telling people how old she was and they were always in shock. In fact, my half sister and my mother were often confused for sisters. It is true, there is no exaggeration by me. My closest sibling in age to me was over nine years and as great as fifteen years. I was truly the young brother to all. The baby.
My father loved to fish and instilled in me the same. I had a charmed life one might say in that I was able to fish each summer of my young life. My father and mother early on in their new marriage decided to buy that dream summer cottage up north.
I grew up in Grand Rapids, Michigan. But in the summer we traveled up north to Torch Lake and spent my days off from school on our lakeside cottage, which was actually a very old farmhouse built near the turn of the century. It was charming one might say. It was two story with a huge porch on the lake side. The lake was crystal clear blue spring water. You could see hundreds of feet down in that pure water to the sand bottom. There was no better lake in all of America. This was a true gem.
My father bought a nice little boat, made of wood and was rather stylish. It wasn't a big boat but it suited my fathers sense of style I'm sure. We named it Ranger, after my dog who followed me home one day and I then convinced my parents to allow me to keep.
Often during the summer I would have friends spend a week. On this day however, my cousin Jen was visiting. She was a few years older than me and although I didn't know her all that well, I did appreciate the fact that she liked to fish with my father and I.
Early the next morning we all arose before dawn and took off in the Ranger to catch what we hoped would be some nice sized small mouth bass. My father, Jen and I pushed off from the dock in front of our cottage and headed toward Torch River where we would stop to fish near the end at the opening of Mud Lake, now known as Lake Skegemog. Near the mouth of Lake Skegemog but still in the river was a wide expanse of under water stumps. No doubt at one time a forest grew there, but water took its place now. It was dangerous to traverse, and many a good boat pilot would damage his motor prop, shear a pin when hitting an unseen underwater stump. On this fine morning my father navigated deep into the underwater forest flawlessly, with my help in warning of the upcoming dangers. Deep in, we anchored and prepped ourselves and our poles for the fishing that was to come.
I'll be honest, I was young and my usual days of fishing most times consisted of catching the smaller Rock Bass, the Perch and the blue gills. I was a worm fisherman and those were the types of fish that bit easily on worms. In all the hundreds of fish I had ever caught before this day, 99 perchent were of the aforementioned type. A few Pike would be mixed in there and were considered a special treat.
On this warm muggy moring everything would change. Right from the start there was something magical going on. I don't know what it was, or why. But all three of us had the most magnificent fishing day of our lives. Small Mouth bass of all sizes were biting at our lines seemingly as fast as we could cast the line. The only times we didn't catch a bass was when it was able to swim under the immersed trees and wrap our lines around them forcing us to break the line with the fish still on. But other than that, it was bass heaven.
My father caught 9 good size bass, my cousin Jen caugh 7 andI caught 6. We were going strong when the clouds moved in and the sound of thunder could be heard. None of us was willing to even think about leaving though. The fishing was just to good. The first sprinkles came and we cast through it. Then it began raining harder, and the sound of thunder got louder. Soon it was pouring. That's when we pulled anchor and left for the cottage.
The storm came quickly and it was fierce. Being so close to Lake Michigan, these storms could grow large. This one seemed larger than most. It was only noon, but soon the daylight disappeared and it was turning dark faster and faster. We were lucky and made it out of the stump bank without damaging our motor prop. We worked our way upriver toward Torch Lake at a good pace, trying to stay as close to the front windshield of the boat as we could. There was no cover over our head and the rain was beating down hard. I was in the middle stooping on the floor while my father steered the boat from his seat and Jen sat in the other seat. There was no middle seat but I didn't mind. I'd much rather sit near the windshield while squatting instead of sitting in one of the back seats of the boat, totally exposed to the elements.
Just before the mouth of Torch Lake, still on Torch River, there was a small dockside boat gas station. Wilkies I believe it was called. My father pulled up and docked the boat, got out but told the two of us to stay put, he would be right back. I remember him talking shortly to a woman I didn't recognize, then he headed back to the boat and we were off again. Our cottage was only about a mile up lake, and it would not take longer than 10 or 15 minutes to make it there. We went under a swinging bridge where the road went over the river just before the start of the lake and we opened up our 25 horsepower Johnson boat motor.
The rain was coming down, the lightning was everywhere and the crack of thunder drowned out the sound of the engine. I remember asking my father if I could navigate the remainder of the way but he said not today, there was no time to spare in this weather. So I stayed put.
We rounded the last bend in the lake before our cottage, only a half a mile away at most when my world changed forever. I remember feeling as though I was melting and everything was in slow motion. Time had frozen, my thoughts were clear but foreign. I didn't know what was going on at first, but then I knew exactly what was going on. We were being hit by lightning. Even though they say it takes a split second, it seemed like minutes to me. There was a first pulse, then a second. Then it was over and everything was quiet and still.
A few seconds later I remember gaining alertness again, I must have passed out for a moment. The boat was racing toward the shoreline at a very fast clip. I had been knocked back several feet from the front of the boat and tried to work my way forward. I remember wanting to hit the choke button on the dash to shutdown the engine before we crashed into the bank on the shoreline. I couldn't do it though. I passed out again.
I don't know how much time had passed when I regained consciousness again. The boat was now on the shore. The engine was still going. I looked now to my left and my father was not moving. His hair was tinged and frizzled. I saw smoke come from his hair, and I could smell it also. I looked to my right and my cousin was slumped sideways and moving her head back and forth. Her eyes were closed and she wasn't responding to me. She was making guttural sounds I never heard before. Like a devlish foreign language, like she was speaking in tongue. It was frightening to me. I knew I had to get help.
I leaped out of the boat and scrambled up the steep bank. It was raining hard and the lightning illuminated the darkness of the day. All I could think about was finding someone to help. There was a small stone house not far away from where I was. I ran inside the house without knocking. Inside were two elderly people I had never seen before. They looked as shocked as I must have looked. I told them we were hit by lightning, we needed help, but they didn't seem to respond to me. They must not have believed me. I told them I lived nearby and they did give me a ride to our cottage. I jumped out and they drove away.
I was wet, I was shaking, I must have been in shock. It was all a blur. So much time seems to have passed now since I left the crash scene where the boat was. So much time, but probably only ten minutes. I can't say for sure. I ran inside to where my mother was who had company, a married couple from Grand Rapids who came up to visit. I announced that we were hit by lightning, the boat was down the lake a bit, and that dad and Jen were still in the boat. They questioned me about details, and what I did say made my mother drop to floor screaming and crying. She must have known the awful truth of what was to be found.
Next off I had to lead them to the boat. My fathers friend who was there came along also. We ran to the shore bank and the man told me to stay on top while he went to the boat. I remember standing and staring down at the boat. It seemed cold now. I was drenched through and through. I had to urinate and I just went and remember the warm liquid flowing down my leg. It was the only thing warm in my life at that moment. I didn't even care that it was wrong to do. I just continued to stare while my fathers friend took the boat tarp out of the back and covered my fathers body with it. He then scooped up my tiny cousin Jen and carried her ashore.
I stood alone in the rain. My head seemed to be exploding now. My eardrums must have took a toll when the thunder crashed around me. I heard the ringing, but it didn't seem to matter now. I looked at the now listless boat with a tarp draping over a lifeless body. I remember hearing a voice earlier while I was feeling like I was melting. It wasn't an audible voice, but it communicated with me at that point in time. It said "don't feel sorry for me, this isn't a bad thing". I took it as being the last communication from my father to me. He was telling me not to feel the sorrow he thought I would have over his death. The sorrow I had seen in others when JFK died. He was trying to communicate to me as he was passing, or maybe even after he had passed. But I always to this day feel that death isn't the end now. Death may just be the beginning for all of us.
