10
community
july12
2011
Living On a Lake in the Country: Finding Fishhawk Lake -
A Touching Tribute To a Father From His Son
By Gayle Rich-Boxman and Gary
Mortensen
Gary Mortensen loved his dad.
That will be readily apparent after you
are taken on his journey through a time
of childhood and adulthood with his
father and their drives to Fishhawk Lake.
I just met Gary, who lives in
Tigard, but felt very close to him already
because of his love for Fishhawk Lake
and the magic that it has brought to his
life. It also was the catalyst in bringing
his father and him closer together. I asked
Gary after a poignant conversation if he
would allow me the honor of reprinting
his memoir dedicated to his dad on
Father’s Day in 2009. He was incredibly
generous and didn’t hesitate to say yes.
Thank you so much, Gary, for letting me
share your story.
A Father’s Day
Reflection: Finding
Fishhawk Lake
Dad
drove
up to my house on
Thursday for our
semi-monthly drive.
The “get in the car and drive day” was
something we had started doing years
earlier as a way to stay connected in
each other’s lives. In the past we had
talked of fishing trips to Alaska, going to
Sweden and other grand adventures but
after so many years of talking and never
doing, we both silently conceded to scale
things back and simply go for a drive.
That I got to do the driving was
a big accomplishment in its own right, as
Dad was never really comfortable with
anyone else behind the wheel. He was
funny about the whole being-in-control
thing, but I imagine the stroke that left
him with a bad eye and atrophied right
hand proved enough to let him relinquish
the reins.
The first time we took one of
these drives was back in the mid-’90s.
My wife was on the verge of making me
a first-time father and the world seemed
big and full of possibilities. Dad was
one of those men from a past generation
where saying “I love you” was not
something that came naturally.
The only son of Depression-era
parents, he worked hard his entire life to
provide for us, and when he took time for
himself, it was usually to go hunting or
fishing with his father. I tried following
that lead, but I never became the hunter
or fisherman that I think Dad might
have hoped for, so we rarely did special
activities together. It was in my mid-30s
that one day at a family event we both
agreed that I should take a day off in the
middle of the week
and just “go for a
drive.”
On
our
very first road trip
we pointed the
car in the general
direction of the
Oregon coast and
set off. It was a
warm, easy Oregon
morning and we
talked for hours as
we drove. We talked
about things we had
never
discussed
before,
speaking
openly and honestly
with each other, and
I got to know my
Dad in ways I never
thought I would.
We stopped in Vernonia and had
lunch at a small family restaurant and
Dad kept raving about how good the
food was. He smiled and said we would
have to come back and eat here again
some time. Dad even let me buy, no small
gesture for such a proud man. Not long
after lunch we meandered from one back
road to another until we came to a sign
that read “Fishhawk Lake.”
After driving down a narrow,
heavily wooded road, we found a small,
scenic lake with cabins all around it. It
was a magical discovery. I parked the
car and we just sat there and looked at
the lake and talked. We spoke of dreams
and aspirations, of buying one of the
cabins and of what it means to become a
father. I had never felt such love from my
dad before and I know he felt it too.
Last year when he pulled up, we
both smiled, happy to be with each other
again . As I was driving, I asked, “Where
to, Dad?” and he said “Hey, let’s go find
that lake.” I nodded in agreement. It had
been 14 years and it was indeed time to
find that lake again.
As I drove we talked: Of old
stories and broken-down bodies, of little
boys becoming men, and mostly of the
heartbreak of losing Mom. She had died
a few weeks earlier after a valiant but
brutal two-year battle with cancer. The
familiarity of the drive offered quiet
The Black Bear & Bear Creek Pub
✥ All new state-of-the-art espresso machine
Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner
✥ Outdoor patio seating
✥ Rotating beer on tap
✥ Open daily at 6 AM
✥ Happy Hour
✥ Free Wi-Fi
✥
Stop by
this
Summer
solace as we stopped in Vernonia for
our special lunch. Dad told stories of his
days as a policeman in Lompoc, Calif.,
and of his time as a semi-professional
baseball player, and while his eyes
would light up, the story would always
lead to Mom and his head would drop.
After lunch we decided it was
time to go and find the lake. I drove out
of town down roads
vaguely
familiar.
Neither of us spoke
much and soon I
came to a road that
forced me to turn
either right or left. I
paused, then started
to turn left when Dad
said softly, “Son,
I think it’s to the
right.” I remained
convinced that the
lake was to my left,
but Dad looked at me
and tapped me gently
on the arm, steering me towards the
right decision as he had done so many
times before in my life.
And so I turned right. And soon
enough we were there again at Fishhawk
Lake. We sat in the car in silence, each
of us thinking quietly of the woman
we had lost. I looked at this proud but
broken man and my heart ached for him.
Nothing would ever be the same.
My sons and I saw Dad two days
later. We went down to McMinnville and
spent the entire day with “Papa.” The
day went by incredibly fast and as I was
leaving I hugged him and told him I
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loved him. He looked at me with tender
eyes and told me, “I love you too, son.”
The next day I got a call that Dad had
died in his sleep. That was a year ago
and it is just now that I am able to write
about it.
This Father’s Day I
plan to take my sons to
go see that lake. I will
tell them stories about
their Papa, eat at the
same restaurant and
park in the same place
by the lake where Dad
and I parked. I will tell
my boys I love them
and I will cherish every
moment.
My dad was my hero.
He still is. He is no
longer living and never
got to see Fishhawk
Lake, but his photo as a
young man very proudly
showing us his catch (a
Pike caught in the St. Lawrence River
at the Thousand Islands where I spent
many happy summers) has a prominent
spot in our home on Fishhawk Lake.
Dad is standing in our old
boathouse at the Islands. Mom found
this years after my dad was gone. It
totally captures the joy of living on a
lake, fishing, enjoying family and the
simpler things in life. All in that smile!
I love you, Dad. And I miss you
every day.
Gayle Rich-Boxman is a broker
with Vernonia Realty, specializing in
Fishhawk Lake Recreation Club. You
can reach her at 503-755-2905 or by
email at richbox@centurytel.net.
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