Early Years at Diamond Lake by Jim Bieneman

Early Years at Diamond Lake                   by Jim Bieneman


My mother made it clear.  Being born her second child on September first (1941) was inconvenient. It meant she spent her summer in Detroit, our winter home, instead of her beloved Diamond Lake. When I grew older I understood.

Skinny and timid my early experience with lake water was in a porcelain tub, placed at the end of the pier to warm.  Eventually I learned to swim.  Thereafter nearly every summer day was in a bathing suit, a spare always on the drying line between our cottage and the next.

By the age of seven or eight I was introduced to sailing.  A terrifying experience.  Wind tipped the boat, sometimes letting water into the cockpit.  

A year or two later we bought a small Nipper sailboat, along with nearly ten other lake families.  This marked the beginning of the youth sailing fleet, coached by Mr. Ernie Schuneman.

I became comfortable with sailing, even capsizing.  Wednesday races were the highlight of the week.  

Adults thought Mr. Schuneman was tough and gruff.  I never knew why.  He knew everything about sailing from rules to strategy.  No one who sailed under Mr. Schuneman failed to become proficient or to love moving with the wind.

He presented awards at the Club’s annual meeting.  Once, he said kind words about me for finishing a race despite my boom having separated from the mast.  Actually there was no alternative except to keep sailing but I swelled up at his remarks.

The Nipper fleet was an opportunity to meet contemporaries.

When the races ended I sailed the entire length of the lake to get home.  I learned, however, that a fellow skipper lived on the shore half way between the north end of the lake and my cottage on the south.  This waypoint became a place of refuge when a storm blew up or the wind died.  My friend’s mother welcomed my crew and me whenever we stopped.  We could pretty much depend on cookies, lemonade and maybe a piece of cake.

Eventually our group reached the age of twelve, at which one was allowed to join the Diamond Lake Junior Yacht Club.  We had meetings every week.

The Yacht Club was a single room on a cement slab with a screened porch.  Rough benches were the only seating.  There was a free play jukebox.  The club was never locked.  

We had lessons at the Club on sailing rules, water safety and red cross life saving.  Informally we met without adults or reasons to be there except each other.  

Between the ages of twelve and sixteen the biggest event of the summer, at least from my point of view, was the Junior Yacht Club dance.  We spent weeks moving boats to the rear of the marina storage barn, cleaning and decorating. Our decorations included a rotating globe of mirrors and enough crepe paper to create a false ceiling.  It was romantic and just dark enough.

Creating the space, hiring a band, selling tickets, and promoting with posters seemed to be important work.  

Then came the matter of a date.  At twelve years old I’d never had one, nor did I know how to dance.  Fortunately my older sister could help on both fronts.  I knew two girls and asked for advice as to which one I might call.  My sister suggested the redhead.

I held out for the other one, the girl whose mother made cookies and whose father allowed us to use his boat to pull skiers over the wooden jump.

When it came time to actually ask the one I’d selected, it was not easy.  The phone was in the kitchen for all the family to hear.  I was very nervous.  She accepted.  I was very relieved.  Since then we have loved Diamond Lake together.

On the matter of dancing, however, despite my sister’s instruction, when the band played that first night I spent my time on the sidelines, wishing for something slow.  That’s still pretty much how it is.


675 words