Long Live the Gin & Tonic Horn, and Other Family Traditions!

Family traditions, they’re the one thing that only your family and you understand, that others may not. They often stand the test of time. As I’m sure your family does, my family has several traditions that have lasted longer than the people who created them. My absolute favorite family tradition is our yearly trip to Hamlin Lake in Ludington, MI every July. My Grandpa first started going some 50 or 60 years ago with his family, and he carried on the tradition with his kids, my parents continued it with us, and now my sister and I with our kids. I hope that my boy Archer “Hamlin” will too continue this trip with his family one day. 

Me in 1985 and My Son Archer in 2014

I can’t think of any other place on Earth that I love more than Hamlin Lake. Over Memorial Day weekend, my wife asked me,“What are your 3 favorite places on Earth?” I told her “Hamlin Lake, Indianapolis Motor Speedway, and Brookvil……I mean Home is #3, with you, dear!” She was not surprised on my #1 pick, but she also knows that my blood runs deep in that sandy MI soil, and for good reason: all the memories. I can remember cool mornings untying and pushing off the dock with Dad and Grandpa. The smell of 2-cycle outboard exhaust mixed with the cool, wet smell of dew on fresh cut grass. I can still see Grandma and Grandpa on their porch in the late afternoon sun, reading books and watching the lake. I can hear my cousins and sister swinging on the giant swing set, and me, well I’m on the dock with a Zebco 33 Rhino just trying to catch anything I can.   

There were 5 cottages we occupied as a family. My Aunt Jody, Uncle Brian, and cousins stayed in the cabin named Birch; My Great Aunt Vivian, Uncle Wayne, and Uncle Raymond (the greatest bluegill fisherman to ever live, like seriously) stayed in Pine; we stayed in Hemlock; Aunt Marcia and Uncle Jeff stayed in Beech; and Grandma and Grandpa were closest to the water in the cottage called Oak. The cottages at the time (and still to this day) are older, white painted pine board siding fashions the exterior walls. The roofs are covered in forest green shingles, but they’re tattered with light green moss and reddish brown pine needles. Front and side porches on each cottage were usually fairly unkempt with coolers, tackle boxes, lawn chairs, and fishing rods, with towels & swimsuits laid out to dry.  As a kid, I remember wondering why Grandpa needed the 20 or so rods he had laid on his back deck - who would need more than just a couple!? I think he’d be surprised to see my spread of 30 or 35 now.

Dad Coming Down the Hill, 1997

Each morning, Dad and I would get up at 5:30 to the smell of coffee already in the pot.  He’d usually have to get ready, but for me it was throwing on a hoodie and heading out the door. As he geared up, I’d take tackle boxes, rods, and coolers to the boat and wait for him to come down. I always felt like I was waiting a lifetime for Dad to get to the boat, but it was probably only 5 or 10 minutes at most. Finally, I’d see him headed down the hill, coffee cup and thermos in hand; he’d usually tell me he forgot something and I needed to run back up the hill to the cottage, I hated that.  Eventually we were headed out, but we had one more stop: Barnhart’s Bait & Tackle, aka the Michigan Chocolate Milk Store.

Barnhart's is another place I’ll never forget, it was my first experience with a boat-in convenience store. Dock your boat and run in to get snacks, bait, newspaper, and even ice cream. I usually would get a chocolate milk, a Cherry Coke, a bag of Cheetos, and maybe a new bobber, hooks, or a lure if I could sneak it into the stack of things we were buying.  We’d then of course reload on beemoths, crickets, and any other bait we planned to use that day. The clerk at Barnhart's in the mornings was an older gentleman who was always willing to share info about the fishing and lake; early in the week we often listened to his advice, but by Tuesday…. We had it figured out. I really liked stopping there in the afternoons because they usually had some pretty girls in bikinis working the gas pumps, and to 9 year old me, I was just fine with that!

Cousin Jamie, 2014

Once we left Barnhart's, we’d be off to our favorite weed bed edge to throw bobbers for panfish. Dad was a good teacher and was patient with my 100 questions. I’m sure he taught me a hundred thousand times how to tie a bobber stop knot…. I finally figured it out at 27 years old, but with a little help and practice, he had me tying my own hook before the age of 6. Hamlin Lake for a long time was very well known for their panfish. It was nothing to bring in bluegills, sunfish, and rock bass that you couldn’t get your hands around. We’d often leave the week with 10-20 bags of panfish filets for the freezer, and we always had a fish fry one night with the entire family. As I got older, we spent more time bass and pike fishing, and less time chasing panfish. It’s funny now to see history repeat itself as my kid, nephew, and cousins want to panfish.

Me with a Stringer of Dockside Gills, 1990

Once it got to be around 12pm, we’d usually head in for breakfast. Pulling into the boat dock was fun because everyone would come down to see how we did. We’d show our live well of fish off to the people who cared to see, I loved when I had a big pike or bass to show off. Dad would head up to the cottage, and it was often my job to carry the gear back up to the porch. Most of the time I would just continue to fish right there from the docks, that is until Mom made me come to eat and clean up. The rest of the day was spent going out on my Uncle's ski boat, swimming at the beach, going to Lake Michigan, or going into town to go shopping. Dad would often go to the beach with the rest of the family, or he’d just want to relax and enjoy the History Channel in the cottage while everyone else was at the beach. Grandpa and I would often hang back so that we could fish in the evenings together. Kind of like me, he wasn’t a big beach guy.

Grandpa, 198?

The afternoons with Grandpa were always fun. We’d usually start in the early afternoon bluegill fishing, and as it got later in the evening we’d switch to bass. We always caught fish, and I’m sure I learned many things from him, things that I may not even know I learned from him now.

However, there is one family tradition etched in my memory forever. The cottages we stayed in were nestled in the back of Indian Pete Bayou, which was an idle zone cove for about 300 yards, so the slow roll in was always a good time to chat. Grandpa would often dip his stainless steel coffee mug into the clear lake water and have a sip; that grossed me out, but when I tried it…. It was delicious. Neither of us died from the brain-eating parasites they warn you about living in lakes and streams. The thing I remember the most about coming through that idle zone with Grandpa was the Gin & Tonic Horn. Most people have air horns on their boat in case of accident or emergency; not our family, the horn is to alert Grandma that we’re coming in, and a gin & tonic is needed at the dock. I loved blowing the gin & tonic horn as it was highly obnoxious, and what 9-year-old doesn’t love obnoxious. From the moment we hit the idle zone, the horn was in hand and ready. I’d blow it once, twice, three times, and maybe a fourth for good measure. Right on cue when we were pulling up to the dock, Grandma would be there with a bourbon glass of pale white liquid, condensation dripping off the sides, and lime on top. The gin & tonic horn soon became a staple in Dad’s boat as well, although Mom was not quite as receptive as Grandma. I too carry the horn in my boat now, but my wife has not once ever brought me the refreshing beverage when I pull into the docks. We blow that horn every time though, if not for a drink, for a memory of those days long past.     - Joey W. Buttram