The Community Hall, Point Lookout

The Community Hall was and still is the main focal point of Point Lookout. When I was growing up, movies would be shown every Saturday night. The bell in its bell tower would start to be rung around six in the evening to alert everyone that the movie would begin around seven. A lot of the children and some parents would converge at the hall and pay their quarter to gain admission. The hall was always packed. We would buy candy and sodas from Sanford's store, which was located next door, to take into the movie. The hall was also used for church services, so the following morning, Sunday, the bell would toll again to alert everyone to come and listen to the gospel. The services were non-denominational. The hall was used for other events during the summer as well, such as dances, cakewalks, etc. and simply a gathering place for teens. It was the place to be. I'm not sure when the hall was built, but I know that it was in the early part of the twentieth century.

If you click on the photograph and enlarge it you will see a very light spot about half way between the end of the Point and the left side of the image. You will also be able to make out a road that runs parallel to the shoreline. You can just make out the hall with its short bell tower located adjacent to the road on the right side.

The painting is soft pastel. There's nothing noteworthy regarding the style of the poetry.

The Community Hall

Quickly eating dinner, I charge out

of the kitchen door into the last rays of the setting

sun. An August breeze blows inland from

the bay. Trees rustle, gently accompanied by

wining cicadas and the staccato buzzing

of insect zappers. The Community

Hall bell tolls, alerts me of the impending

Saturday night movie.

2

Racing my bike over hills on tree shaded

sidewalks broken by time, perspiration

dampens the edge of my scalp. My heart pumps

the peddles of the red Schwinn Flyer past sun

dappled clapboard cottages that spawned

generations of children before me. Mind racing with

excitement, I make my way to the white tolling

edifice that sanctifies my youth.

3

Running up concrete steps to the long

covered porch where carved initials of

undying love adorn square columns, I race

through green double doors, pay

the attendant my quarter and jostle for a seat on

folding wooden chairs. The smell of aged

pine lumber and wood floors mingles

with summer heat that gives way to fresh air from

opened windows.

4

Hanging light bulbs dim, quiet settles

the hall. The collapsible movie screen stands

motionless in the warm evening as the projector begins

to whirr. I watch with excitement as Randolph Scott rides

to glory wearing fringed buckskin. Eyes riveted to

the screen, time gallops by; transports me to a

world of yesteryear.

"Morning Mist", the Grant cottage, Point Lookout

This painting depicts the Grant cottage. It is on the South shore (Bayside) of Point Lookout. It would be located on the shoreline closer to the left edge of the photograph.

The painting is completed in alkyd oil and the poetry is free verse.

Morning Mist

Chilled breath of morning's pearl-gray

mist nuzzles pine trees' velvet veils

of muted green; whisper

gossip to my beguiled ears, laments

summer's end. Dampness

fills my nostrils with cool moisture; nurtures
my face with liquid scent of innocuous
weeds. Their spikes of color stretch, grope
for sun's renewed warmth that slinks across
dew laden grass.

Silence permeates my senses.

Point Lookout, South shore (Bayside) cottages, circa 1920's

The subject for this painting is a group of cottages located on the south shore (Bayside) of Point Lookout. The cottage on the left side of the painting and the ones on its right are located about half way along the shoreline on the left side of the photograph. They were built sometime around the turn of the century, 1900. The painting is circa 1920's. There is currently one long steel seawall, that my father constructed, in front of the embankment to protect the cottages from high water.

The painting is completed in alkyd oil and the form of poetry is Japanese Tanka.

Moonstruck

Witches' moonlight seeps.

Crawls over white shadowed walls

through open windows,

oozes into sleeping dreams,

dire melancholy madness.

"Wheeling", Point Lookout

There isn't much to say about the subject. It's self explanatory. However, the painting of the sky, less the sea gulls, was the top of another painting of a Point Lookout scene. I didn't like the composition so I cut the top of it off leaving this image. I was going to throw it away and as a whim, added the sea gulls. I decided that I liked it.

The poem that I wrote is a Japanese haiku.

Wheeling

sea gulls wheel and soar

loose feathers lift in the breeze

summer waves crashing

"Sunlit Afternoon", Ed Wise Fishery (marina), Point Lookout

The image in this oil painting represents part of my parents business. It was named after my grandfather when it was a commercial fishery. After WWII the commercial fishing industry was pretty much depleted so my father and mother, Louie and Maxine Wise, turned it into a marine contracting business and marina. They acquired a Chris-Craft

franchise as well as stored, refinished and did engine work on the mahagony boats. They also put in sea walls, docks and boat hoists as there were no harbors. The white building in the painting, is where the boats were stored and the maintenance was done. The cottage, which initially was a cook camp for the fishermen during the height of the fishing industry, ended up being where my parents and I lived until 1955 when I was eight years old. They subsequently built a new home on the property. After my parents retired and the business was sold, the cottage was moved to a different location on Point Lookout. The boat house and fish house (not in the painting) was raised and the business property sold. Three new cottages exist there today. The fish house is located, out of view, to the left of the buildings in this painting. That building is depicted in an earlier submission to this blog. The name of that painting is "Night Work".

The poem is my hybrid version of two Japanese five line tanka poems linked together by a connecting line.

Sunlit Afternoon

Green water shivers, 

blown by impulsive breezes.

Ripples punctuate

its shimmering opulence;

twinkling like sunlit crystals

from afternoon light that

casts rhythmic shadows

from impetuous foliage;

giving renewed warmth 

to weather-beaten clapboards

of a weary old cottage.

"Aground", Point Lookout

This cottage was built to look like a ship. It's located near the end of the Point on the north shore (Lake Huron side). It had a large ships wheel and binnacle on the main floor looking out over the deck. When I was a young boy I thought that it would be great fun to live here and be able to fantasize about sea-going adventures. I wrote the poem that accompanies this painting with that in mind. It's a bit of a spoof on a few children's books and a Beatles song with some Calvin and Hobbes inspiration tossed into the mix.

Aground!

Hard to starboard!

Reverse starboard engine, full!

Port engine, full ahead!

Ka-klang, ka-klang!

Battle Stations! Battle stations!

Woop, woop, woop!

Gray-green waves churn, spew

phosphorescent spray over the sunlit deck

of the sleek white ship. Listing to port, Captain

Nemo wrestles the wheel hard over. The mighty

vessel slices through monstrous seas as

the slimy, green scaled, fire

breathing squid like creature with one big yellow

blood-shot eye and razor sharp beak thrusting

out of a cavernous mouth, scum

dripping from its spiked teeth wreaking

of decayed spinach, brussels sprouts and

hamburger helper wraps its pulsating

suckered tentacles around the little ship,

[Whew]!

Uncle Albert and Admiral Halsey warned

him that the monster would be found

where the wild things are.

Ginormous pointed boulders rip

upwards through the churning

sea as the creature opens

its massive venomous mandible

wide for the kill as a gurgling

snarl growls from its putrid bowels...

"Eddie, if I've told you once I've told you

a thousand times not to play with that

compass thingy. If you break it you're really

going to get it when you father gets home".

Eddie grunts, "Smee, make her walk the plank"!

"Night Work," Point Lookout

This painting is of my grandfather's and, subsequently, my father's business at Point Lookout. Initially, my grandfather was a commercial fisherman and this building was the fish house where fish nets were stored and the day's catch was cleaned and packed on ice. The fish would then be shipped to Detroit, Cleveland and New York via semi-truck and railroad. After World War II, the fishing industry began to die out and my father turned the fishery into a marine contracting business and acquired a Chris-Craft speedboat franchise. The fish boat in the painting was built of steel and was thirty-three feet in length. It was named "The Three Sons" after myself and my two cousins on my father's side of the family.

Looking at the photograph below, the business was located on the right side of the point (the north shore or Lake Huron side). About a third of the way down from the top of the photograph, a small promentory juts out from the shore. This is where the business was located.

The painting is excuted in Alkyd oils. I wrote the poem to coincide with the painting.

Night Work

Cool dampness shrouds
summer’s lucent morning, fills
my memory with clarity, like
moonlight dancing on waves’
elusive shadows. Their cresting
and breaking on battered pilings echoes
the chunk-clink of the freezer
door being opened in the fish house.

The arms of gnarled
sumac and bittersweet grow
out of the hillside, embracing a decrepit
red structure with its swayback
roof. Yawning doors and tired
eyes welcome me home to safety.

Soft thudding of moths brush
bare light bulbs. The pungent scent of tarred
fish nets permeates the damp air, sending
waves of euphoria through my soul.
Workmen, with silent tenacity, shovel
ice from the freezer into empty fish boxes, preparing
for the dawns catch. I find solace with their shadows
in darkened corners.

Bird chatter echoes in the dawn.