Uncle Dave

The Quiet Carpenter

The first time we hung out, Uncle Dave took me to a private cove where he and his team had built some cabins. On a gray September day, we parked in the driveway of a beautiful vacation home and walked a half mile down a hill through the forest, the dark soil giving a deep earthy smell as we pushed through ferns and weaved around trees before emerging on a small stone beach. 

We got into the water and swam around the point into another little cove. The water was cold, so we climbed out and sat on the jagged volcanic rock just as the sun poked through clouds and shined directly onto us. I remember being grateful for the warmth of it and looking up and smiling as Uncle Dave told me about the time he helped my parents move by driving a car from downstate in a snowstorm BEFORE he had a license—a move, my mother says, is a classic for my dad and his brothers to pull. 

There we were, basking in the sun on a piece of the Keweenaw Peninsula coast very very very few people get to swim in. “This is amazing,” I thought. “What an adventure.” Little did I know that a few short months later, Dave and I would be sitting in a bougie spa pool staring at the snow-capped Alps in Switzerland as steam rose around us. 

Both were clear mindful I’ll-never-forget-this reminders for me of how lucky I am to be doing what I’m doing, reconnecting, and learning about these men. But going into 18 Uncles, I never could have predicted he’d be the one I’d be going on the most Huckleberry Finn adventures with. 

Uncle Dave, a quiet carpenter.

But so much more than just a quiet carpenter.