No sun, no rain, no problem

Friday was supposed to be sunny and breezy, because our little band of neighbors planned to have dinner on the deck at the Dockside. Mama Nature pouted, and we had to settle for clouds. Did we give up? We did not. This business of eating outdoors under glowering skies is getting to be a habit.

It was warm, the food was good, the company congenial, the gulls raucous. What’s not to like? The conversation meandered from plans for autumn to memories of other restaurants: Ricciardi’s, Sneakin’s—and the old Brownwood, where dance bands and movie stars created a glamor spot in the 1960s.

The singing waitstaff, dubbed the Honeybees, entertained the diners, and at least one, Christine Lahti, went on to fame and fortune.  By the 1980s cocktails and glamorous dresses had faded from the Torch Lake summer social scene, replaced by wine and sandals. The restaurant closed in 1987, but the weathered building remains, the faded sign an echo of another era.

The rest of the Brownwood Acres complex is thriving, with shops, a petting farm, Mary Lou’s Tearoom, and the Sunday flea market.  Mar DeTar said she made 1500 donuts one recent Sunday.  It used to be, she mused, that people would buy just one.  Now they buy a dozen at a time.  It’s a fine example of how things change and how things stay the same, memories intertwined with the scent of fresh donuts.

On our way north toward home, we got to talking about “stuff” and how much of it we’d jettisoned in recent years.  At some point in your life, we agreed, you pretty much have most of the “stuff” you need, and you just quit buying it.  “I like to go to the flea market, but all I ever buy is a donut,” said Mickey. 

A moment later we passed Art Brown’s Torch Tip Ironworks.  Art makes architectural ironwork, like spiral staircases and elaborate railings.  He made Betty Beeby’s Bench.  And, it turns out, he made a bracket for the Argentinian merry-go-round pig recently acquired by Mickey. 

There was a moment of silence in the car.  Then inquiring minds clamored to know – wait, wait, you just said . . . a merry-go-round pig?  Really?  You hardly ever buy anything, but when you do, you buy . . . a merry-go-round pig?   Well, Mickey said, it wasn’t just any merry-go-round pig.  It was from Argentina, and it was nicely carved from wood.  Would we like to see the pig?  We would.  And here it is. 

You have to admit, we know how to have fun in the Township.  In our own fashion.  Just wait until you see what we get up to when all the Summer People are gone.  We have the pig.  Now we need a merry-go-round.