A Door County Author

We arrived at the Lake House the evening of  July 2, and on July 4 we walked into Gills Rock for a reading and book signing by Patricia Skalka, a fellow Chicagoan who put down roots in Door County. She's written two murder mysteries set in Door County, With a grieving and tormented former Chicago cop as the main character (Dave Cubiak - DC, get it? She had to tell us about that, because I wouldn't have noticed it), The stories are sort of a combination of Robert B. Parker's Jesse Stone books and the movie "Feed the Fish." But they're good.

Patricia talked about her writing process and what motivated her to write the books. It was really interesting. But I'll tell you, after hearing her talk and reading the books, I'm surprised no one did this before. I mean, think about it. The Peninsula Players have been having a good time putting on over-the-top murder mysteries for years. I saw them put on "Sleuth" in the 1970's, and I noticed how people chuckled at the lines, but also at the very conventions of the murder mystery genre. Audiences up here love that sort of thing. They'd accept villains and intrigue even more in a Door County setting.

Anyway, I can't say much about the stories themselves without being a spoiler, but I enjoyed them a lot. I recommend them. She even got me thinking about trying to write fiction. (The people who sponsored the reading, Write On Door County, are all for encouraging people to do that sort of thing, too. Or even encouraging them to write blogs like this one).

Sadly, since that reading, we've had two incidents in Door County in which successful men who had places up here disappeared. One was found, apparently a suicide, but no one knows for sure yet. The other is still missing. We have dozens of murders a month in Chicago, but up here, even a single mysterious death makes big news. That's why I think the choice of the detective who came to Door County to get away from tragedy makes a compelling idea.

Anyway, here's a link to Patricia Skalka's site, where you can find out more about her books.

http://www.patriciaskalka.com/

Summer Home Neighbors

One thing that we’ve learned since we bought the Lake House is the importance of having good relationships with the neighbors. It’s not a bad idea even in the city, but out here it can make life a lot easier. But even beyond the  practical value, knowing your neighbors and having pleasant exchanges with them makes the summer home experience more pleasant and satisfying. So even when we have occasional quibbles with them, we try to make the best of things.

Minor quibbles in our condo association pretty much center around the common areas, especially parking and the dock. But we also have a unique setup here, with a common laundry house and well, but holding tanks that are either for a single unit, two units, or three units (ours). Since we’re located on the side of a bluff, all of these arrangements  - parking, utilities, and holding tanks - are constrained by our physical layout.

Things have gone pretty well so far. Our neighbors include some senior citizen grandparents, some couples with young children, and some empty nester couples like us. Some of them are related to each other, and some have known each other for years. One is even the seller that we bought our unit from – who owned two units before that. They all have their own stories, their own personalities, and their own taste in flower bed plantings and tchotchkes (lots of hostas and lighthouses). But they all share a love of Door County and the lake, a sense of family continuity, and a willingness to be part of a group that maintains this little former resort as a hideaway from modern stress and trouble. Our dogs make friends with each other. We figure out how to stay out of each others’ way when we park our cars, dry our lifejackets, or do our laundry. We bring each other up to date on news that takes place between the Memorial Day condo meetings. We humor the owner who doesn’t like woodpiles covered with Visqueen that “glistens in the sun.” (I had to go and look up what Visqueen might be. Apparently it’s a British trade name for polyethylene plastic sheeting. You learn something new every day). We got past that one, because the woodpile maker moved the pile, Visqueen and all, behind his unit. We stagger our showers, our laundry loads, and our power washing, so we disturb each other as little as we can. We hear kids playing and hollering on the dock as pleasant instead of annoying. We tone down the Fourth of July fireworks for the benefit of nervous dogs. We look out for each other, and move fallen tree branches and report damage to each other. Some of us even share Wi-Fi.

One thing that helps keep us working together and getting along with each other is the fact that none of us are wealthy. This is a very middle-class property, and only being a “cooperative” enterprise allows people of such means as we to own property on a stretch of shore where the average price tag is over half a million dollars, and up to several million. Eleven of us, pooling our resources, can jointly own a few hundred feet of shore (with the most magnificent view in Door County), a marina with slips for each owner, and acres of prime Door County cedar and birch woodland, in addition to our modest and cozy little cabins, with their individual histories and individual characters.

Another common factor drawing us together is the dock, which is a big reason for the resort’s having been built in the first place. The dock, being on the tip of the Door County mainland, takes a beating in all seasons. Like our cabins, it’s built on a narrow shelf of glacier-carved rock –one  that extends out only about 50 feet underwater before dropping off to a depth of over 100 feet in the Death’s Door strait. The dock was filled in and built using combinations of rock, cedar timbers, corrugated steel, and concrete. When we bought our place, there was a 20-foot gap in the outer break wall where ice and storms had destroyed the structure and the waves were pouring in. The first year we were here, we watched Door County’s finest dock repair people (from Barnowski Lumber and Death’s Door Marine, who have the greatest logo since the Grateful Dead) work over most of a year to rebuild it. They brought in truckload after truckload of huge
limestone boulders as rip-rap to protect the outer walls, then dozens of huge cedar timbers to frame the crib and more rock to fill it, and finally tons of concrete to finish the top (and create a new ledge on the outer edge to give the seagulls a place to perch and to help shield the dock from crashing waves). Even with all their work, we’ve noticed the rip-rap has moved (or maybe that’s an illusion because the lake has gotten three feet deeper). And one storm tore up the gravel area that was never covered in concrete, throwing hundred-pound rocks around like gravel, and moving the gravel to the opposite side of the dock). Mother Nature is not a lady to be messed with, here at Death’s Door. But someone got a nice guy with a Bobcat to push the rocks pretty much back where they belonged, and someone else rebuilt the fire pit, so we’re back in business.

Even more charming was that a couple of the owners raised the flagpole again, and someone else bought a flag, and finally the lady above us bought some pennants that proclaimed our humble dock as a “yacht club.” We had some good laughs about that, quoting “Caddyshack” and exclaiming, “Ahoy, Polloi!”

And that’s just our neighbors in the condo development. We also have neighbors nearby, though they are definitely more well-off than we. But we share a love of the place and most of us walk our dogs out on the road, dodging cyclists in some seasons and curious tourists in others. Most of them are older than we are, and it’s kind of sad to hear them talking about having to sell their places that were their dreams of decades ago, and think about moving to retirement homes.

One thing that doesn’t cross the 45^th parallel is people’s political views. Everyone seems to keep that to themselves. Which is for the best.

Anyway, in our third year here, we’ve already managed to get a pretty good sense of the rhythms of the seasons, and feel relaxed and happy to see our neighbors. That’s a pretty good lesson for life in general.