Trares
I liked to call him the Mayor of Kope Kon Pointe.
We received word this past week that a good family friend was gone. Dave Meyer, farm equipment entrepreneur, lakeside raconteur, had passed away.
For me, it brought back memories to one chapter of life that had been nearly unparalleled in laughs, good times and joy.
My family had bought a little cottage on a small lake in northern Indiana when I was 11 years old. We didn’t know anyone there, but it seemed like a good buy, and my parents were excited about it.
We found ourselves thrust into a little community that was unlike few I’ve ever encountered since. Our neighbors at the lake, maybe tentative at first, would quickly become family. Weekends growing up were spent together doing community meals, going on boat rides and roasting s’mores around the campfire.
My dad and Dave became fast friends. Their balanced sense of go-get-em and relaxation suited each other well. Over time, they were hard to separate, eventually forming a small company building modular docks for people in the area. In the wintertime, they’d gather in a spare garage they bought (the Ponderosa!) and cut vinyl and aluminum, building their Three Way Docks for clients across the Michiana area.
I was just getting out of college and starting my first job at the time. Their raucous fun provided a welcome respite for an otherwise broke kid, while also teaching a subtle lesson about hard work. I’d go up on weekends and spend the day measuring, cutting, stacking and delivering. After finding a roadhouse to grab some food, we’d hang around and play cards until the night was done.
In the summers, against all reason, we’d gather in Dave’s garage — facing away from the lake — to play euchre and maybe enjoy a Bud Light. There were horseshoe tournaments and not-so-gentle teasing. It was the place to be. I can’t count how many times I wandered away from the idyllic lapping of the waves and the warm sand to see what was happening in the garage.
Dave had a habit whenever we were sitting back there. Whenever people would drive by on our private drive, no matter how slow they were going, he’d poke his head up and shout, “Slow down!”
We’d crack up, and anyone who knew Dave would laugh and wave.
He organized hog roasts, and kept our community together. Like any good mayor, he stayed out of conflict until he had to.
Our family sold our cottage a few years later, and though I stayed in distant contact with our lake family, it wasn’t the same. I hadn’t seen Dave in ages when we received the bad news of his passing.
That’s a regret. I wish we would have kept that connection; I wouldn’t be the person I am today without those times.
The world has a little less laughter today. We’ll miss you Dave, but we’ll try to live by the example you set — enjoying the good time, taking care of business and relishing our time with family and friends.
Oh, and slow down.
Ryan Trares is a senior reporter and columnist for the Daily Journal. Send comments to [email protected].
