See that handsome fella? That’s my dad. Shortly after this was taken I’m pretty sure he took a knife to that thing and made us some water meat.
See that handsome fella? That’s my dad’s dad, Clair. He caught the longer, more tubey fish – whereas my dad is more of a flat/round fish catcher such as your sunnies or crappies.
See that handsome fella about to kiss the fish that he caught by the ass (and he did kiss it)? That’s my mom’s dad, Freeman. He caught whatever the Hell he wanted to. Flat, tubey, whatever. This photo is from the summer before I entered the tenth grade. My wifebeater and hair length provide me with this information.
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This journal entry started as the usual annual tip of the hat to my pops Larry, but when I chose that photo of him holding the fish I noticed that within a 2 dozen or so thumbnail radius there were photos of Claire and Freeman holding fish as well, all taken at the same lake. What are the chances? And so the my dad/my dad’s dad/my mom’s dad Father’s Day journal entry on my website was born.
Those photos were all taken in the 1980s at Upper Cormorant Lake in Lake Park, MN where all of our wildest dreams came true as kids. There were two monumental annual events to look forward to each year back then for the Krenner kids: 1. Christmas and 2. Going “up to the lake” every summer. Both of those events pretty much kicked everything else’s ass, even birthdays. “The lake” ruled. It was the grand finale of our summer vacation. It consisted of playing with cousins Matt & Jeff, swimming, fishing, drawing pictures, listening to music, laughing at Uncle Rick’s insane farts (he had great pitch control – probably still does), eating salami & Pringles, candy…. Rinse, lather, repeat for a week straight – two weeks in the later years. There was a year or two where we caught the Northern Lights up there. That was amazing.
“WiFi? We don’t need no stinkin’ WiFi.”
The resort we stayed at every year was the same one that my dad’s family went to when he was a kid. It is still there, however there are new owners and they have WiFi in the cabins now and they don’t allow pets. As tech savvy and dependent as I am I will be the first to ask: WiFi in a cabin? One should not need WiFi to go to a cabin, you go to a cabin to get away from that stuff. It’s a cabin. Do you think Grizzly Adams would approve of WiFi in cabins? No. He would laugh at it. And if somebody installed WiFi in his cabin while he was out hanging with Nakoma to try and surprise him and show him how great WiFi really is? He would probably yank all of the cords and equipment out and feed it to his bear Ben.
I digress. Back to the dads. Thanks, dad, for carrying cramming us into the station wagon in the above photo and making the religious pilgrimage up to Upper Cormorant for all of those years! Those were the best. Times. EVER.
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All three of these dads scared me a little bit when I was a kid – but I mean that in a good way. Allow me to explain my use of the word “scared”: I felt compelled to behave while I was around them (when they weren’t around was a different story… but I’ll save that for another time). They all had big forearms and strong hands which enabled them to do things like loosen overly-tightened bolts on cars, start lawn mowers, boat motors, lift stuff that I couldn’t… all of those things that big forearms and strong hands help dads accomplish. I remember watching my dad give the lawn mower/boat motor cords a swift yank on several occasions. It seemed like within 4 tries they would always magically start. That always blew my mind. Woah. He can start the lawn mower. I tried starting the lawn mower for fun a time or two back in the day and could hardly pull the cord out a foot. There was another 2-3 feet of cord yet in addition to the power needed to yank it hard enough to get the motor going. It’s probably a blessing I couldn’t get it started, I would have crapped my pants and not known how to shut it off. Dads have that strength to accomplish such things. I bet if your head were to be within the firing range of my dad’s arm when he was yanking back that boat motor or lawn mower cord his elbow would snap it clean off like it was a No. 2 pencil.
It was so bizarre when all three of these dads were in the same room. This occurred maybe once a year if that. It was a total trip to experience things like Claire calling Freeman “John”. John was Freeman’s middle name. Everyone called him John. Perhaps he wasn’t fond of his first name. I think it’s an awesome name. I named my first cat Freeman. I bought Freeman with my first credit card when I was 20. That’s right, I charged my cat. I loved him so, but didn’t get him fixed soon enough and as a result he peed on everything and had to go live the rest of his life outside on a farm. Just like the person I named him after, he taught me a lot of very valuable lessons.
Freeman doing what he did best at his cabin: COOKING. Man could that guy make some kickass everything.
I spent a lot of time with the human Freeman on road trips to Wisconsin, Iowa, and his cabin up on Orr, MN. He was a tough guy to please. We got along quite swimmingly, though – probably because I was such a quiet, shy kid. Instead of talking I listened. He always called me “Fireball”. Things needed to be his way or no way at all, and if they weren’t his way he would usually say “Next time why don’t you [insert the way he would have done it].” Sometimes I wonder what we talked about when I’d go up to his cabin with him. Was I silent? Did I ask him questions? I can’t remember. He taught me that I should walk with my head up and to flush public toilets with my feet. As hard of an outer shell as he had he confessed something to me once when we were out on his boat on Pelican Lake. From out of the blue he said “You know, marrying your dad was the best thing your maw could have done.” I don’t know if he ever told either of them that (I’ve mentioned it to them in recent years) but good on ya, dad. You got an A+ from one of the hardest to please people I’ve ever known, and he was your dad-in-law no less!
Grampa Clair rocking out on his beloved electric accordion.
Dad’s dad, Clair, smoked white tipped see-gars, played accordion, and gave us silver dollars whenever he came over. He taught me how to wash paint brushes. Clair was a polka music fanatic and when I started playing the tuba in 4th grade he was thrilled. Whenever we saw him he’d look at me and say “There’s the Oom-Pa-Pa!” I bet we could have done shots and jammed together in a different life. Perhaps we have. I’d totally be in a polka band with him. He could carry a drum beat, too. Once he got behind my Cousin Jeff’s Mickey Mouse drum kit and rocked out for about 30 seconds. My mind was blown. There are stories of him drinking in his basement and cranking his electric accordion into the wee hours. Thankfully some of these moments were immortalized on cassette tapes. I can only imagine what that must have been like for his wife Gertie. Their bedroom was right above the accordion zone and I’m sure this interfered with her beauty sleep something fierce. He had a big heavy tweed amp, I’m guessing it was a Fender of some sort and probably would be worth a lot of money today. I often wonder where that amp is now. It was so loud and sounded so big. He used to send us home with a garbage bag full of popcorn that he popped with his popcorn maker in the basement, the big glass box kind you see at bars and movie theaters. One of my favorite memories that I’ve named “Clairry” was when I got to go stereo shopping with him and my dad. I think one of the stores we went to was Best Buy – this was way back when it was just 1 store and sold high end electronics. It was just fun to be one of the dudes and look at all of the fancy shiny new electronics.
And then of course there’s my dad Larry:
All dressed up and ready for church
What can I say that I haven’t already said about that guy?! (For example: https://mikekrenner.com/mikekrenner.com2011/06/amazing-larry) Which brings me to today’s drawing, aptly titled “Craftsmanipulated”. I did a lot of brilliant stuff when I was a kid that I look back on and wonder how I still have all ten fingers and 2 eyeballs. The Craftsmanipulated illustration is a tribute to one of them: Dad had a gigantic flathead Craftsman screwdriver – the thing was probably 2 feet long. One fine Saturday morning I took it upon myself to power up the grinder on his workbench and sharpen the tip of that Craftsman into a sharp point. The sparks that thing shot off were amazing, it was like a KISS concert. I can still smell the smoldering hot steel. After I decided it was sharp enough I went out to the backyard, stabbed the lawn with it a few times, and threw it back on his tool bench without even realizing what I’d just done. He found it and thankfully didn’t kill me. Thank you for not killing me, dad. Without further ado, I present you with “Craftsmanipulated”:
Instagram link: http://instagram.com/p/aoFbdEmfUd/
I definitely lucked out in the dad department. Not just with my dad, but his dad and my mom’s dad. But wait… it gets even better! I happen to have an awesome father-in-law now. His name is Bob. Like all of the aforementioned dads he’s got the forearms and manhands that can loosen the tightest of bolts. He’s a blast to hang out with. Bob is a master of the pun – until he came along I considered myself sort of the king of bad puns but he definitely gives me a run for my punny… er… I mean, money. Bob is yet another huge reason to be bummed that due to geographical circumstances the wifey and I can’t hang with our dads today.
You are missed, dads. We can’t be there in person to give hugs and all of that stuff but I hope at the very least that these words have given your brains a hug. Have a great Father’s Day!
