When Is A House A Home?

Yesterday we had an annual family picnic at my brother Jim's beautiful place on Lake Michigan.  Dale Van Lente was always part of the gatherings there, his mind and humor sharp even though he was in his 80's.  He was the remaining patriarch of our clan from my mother's side and his heart gave out this July, leaving our hearts empty as well.

I wrote this the night before to share with his two daughters, Katrina and Gretel.  I told them I think most of this is true.

Sometimes I remember my uncle Dale by the different places that he lived.

The first was the house he grew up in on 17^th street in Holland, the site of so many of our family gatherings with Grandma and Grandpa Van Lente, the aunts and uncles and cousins. I stayed overnight there several times in a bedroom that overlooked 17^th street and I'm told that 17th was once a part of a main route that headed West and then South toward Chicago. Getting up early I would watch the cars stream by, wondering where they were headed. Perhaps Dale did as well and that was one reason he left Holland for education, the military, work and love.

Dale did come back and he and Ann first lived in an old house on Graves Place, just down the road from Centennial Park and a building that once housed the Dutch/Holland Museum. I was at that house on New Years Day in 1960 and watched a review of the decade of the 50's on the TV in the den. Would we ever see such change again? The home even then had a grape arbor in the back.

Out front across the street was an empty field on which would be built Hope's 6 story tall library. Many years later my son Ben played soccer at Hope and one day we had a soccer luncheon in a room on the top floor. It provided an amazing view of all of Holland and even Lake Michigan was visible from there. Little known to the college officials was the fact that the night before the official groundbreaking some of us “Van Lentes” brought our own shovels, dug a little ground, and had a pre-official groundbreaking ceremony. I remembered that as I looked out the 6^th floor windows and thought, “Dale and I helped build this place.”

Later Dale and Ann moved into a 100 year old home on 12^th street, just across from their church, 3^rd Reformed. There are a lot of great and warm images from that house – The formal dining room, the living room with all those salt dishes, chats and music in Katrina and Gretel's bedroom, the grape arbor and sundial out back, ghost club with the cousins, and the large always green lawn for running around at 3^rd Reformed.

Eventually the girls grew up and Dale and Ann built a house along side the Kalamazoo River. I guess the address was considered Saugatuck but believe me, this place was isolated. We would drive thru farm fields, over or under the freeway until the road ended, turn right for a couple of miles and then left into the woods, drive around until you find a house with lights on. At least that's how I recall the directions. Oh, the view of the river and all the nature was glorious, the house was beautiful, but somehow this place was out of character with the aunt and uncle I knew.

Dale was always there next to the heartbeat of Holland. He was close to where he worked and taught, the people he served and the place he worshiped. Even living in those old homes was like he was part of the breath and history of Holland. I know Dale and Ann loved their new home but it was easier for Dale. He could still come into town everyday, see it's people, feel it's rhythm, maybe even have a big, fat juicy hamburger or some ice cream without Ann's knowledge. My mother told me later that this was a tough time for Ann who was mostly isolated. Beautiful place, yes. Home, no.

And so they would sell that house and buy, what else, an old house across Lake Mac on South Shore Drive, just a short jog from where my parents were living. Combining old and new they modernized parts of it such as kitchen and their bedroom, allowing for a view of the stunning formal garden that I think will capture most of my children's memories of Dale and Ann. The formal garden. They were still in Holland, close to everything, but somehow through the garden they brought a little living culture home.

After Ann died, so close to her beloved garden, Dale would spend more time out West with Katrina in a little trailer on the Frey Vineyard property. I've been there only once and never saw the trailer but this is how I think things might have gone for Dale in his part time home there.

I noticed pictures posted on the beautiful Frey Vineyard web site of Dale helping out the family in their business. My favorite is senior citizen Dale, sweat pouring off his brow, working in the winery. The next is Dale, wide hat to protect from the sun, a bag of wheat slung over his shoulder, and a cane to help him walk. There was a chain, attached to his ankle on one end and to a large iron ball on the other. The web site described the genius of the Frey enterprise. Instead of just growing grapes the space between the rows could be used to produce additional crops. The cane was sharp on one end, poking a hole into the soil. Dale would then toss out the seed from his satchel in the same natural way that was done for thousands of years. The chain would break up any seed clumps that didn't find a hole, and the iron ball would close soil over the seed, completing the process.

After a grueling (but enjoyable) day Dale would retreat to his little trailer. Every other day Katrina would stop by with a cup of warm broth. At first Dale would gulp it down, then hold the cup up to Katrina with both hands and say “More please”. But after some time he would learn to savior it, sip by sip, allowing him to better contemplate French literature and Amazon birds. And wasn't this why he came West to begin with? He wasn't the hobo of Ukiah. This was his Walden's pond. Dale wanted to suck all the marrow out of life and now life just kept on, well, it was always interesting.