Asphalt Frank

I have often found myself, well, okay, I haven't exactly found myself there as I drive there quite purposefully, in Hessel in Michigan's glorious eastern Upper Peninsula and pondering, remembering what once was. And what once was was my Uncle Frank teaching me the precise way to turn around in the driveway.

He had retired here, and while the house already existed the garage and the driveway did not. So he had a garage built, a very good one from where I still listen to Tiger baseball and will again in the future, and a driveway laid from asphalt. And the asphalt needed precise care.

As such, he instructed me on how to turn around on it without doing damage. You pull up and turn hard left, then go hard right to back up into place, all the while moving so that the turning of the wheels did not grind into any spot on the asphalt. Never, never stop and turn the wheels in one place. Keep your car moving.

After about an hour of practice Uncle Frank was satisfied that I could make the maneuver. And ever since then, I have made the maneuver rather well. I think.

Uncle Frank is gone better than 24 years now. But I have not and will not harm his driveway. He has seen to that.

Uncle Frank's Driveway

I find myself, well, okay, I haven't exactly found myself here as I drove here quite purposefully, in Hessel in Michigan's glorious eastern Upper Peninsula and pondering, remembering what once was. And what once was was my Uncle Frank teaching me the precise way to turn around in the driveway.

He had retired here, and while the house already existed the garage and the driveway did not. So he had a garage built, a very good one from where I still listen to Tiger baseball and will again tonight, and a driveway laid from asphalt. And the asphalt needed precise care.

As such, he instructed me on how to turn around on it without doing damage. You pull up and turn hard left, then go hard right to back up into place, all the while moving so that the turning of the wheels did not harm any spot on the asphalt. Never, never stop and turn the wheels in one place. Keep your car moving.

After about an hour of practice Uncle Frank was satisfied that I could make the maneuver. And ever since then, I have made the maneuver rather well. I think.

Uncle Frank is gone better than 23 years now. But I have not and will not harm his driveway. He has seen to that.

The last shot

He always bought every shot. Every beer.

Uncle Frank. My Uncle Frank. To his family, to my children, he was Oggie, or Oggs, for whatever reason. To me, Uncle Frank.

He retired to da UP, to Hessel, in the Les Cheneaux Islands. We visited there often. We still do.

We drank a few beers together, mostly Old Milwaukee. We had a few shots, mostly the house whiskey.

He always bought.

One day, back in 1996, in July as we visited, he asked me to help him take the trash to the dump. I did so. He asked me afterwards if I might like a shot and a beer. I said yes, I might like that.

We made a side trip to his haunt. We had a shot and a beer. They seemed that day to last a long while that day. We talked a while, as though we had known each other a lifetime.

Our drinks were almost spent. He asked if I might like another, and I said yes, I would. He ordered. I said, Oggs, you always pay. Let me pay for these.

He stared at me for a very long moment. Then he just said, okay. I paid. We clinked shot glasses and downed our shots. We sipped at our beers. For another hour we talked just like old friends. I drove him home.

He passed away that night. I had bought him his last shot and beer. I am proud to have done so.