Part Six of a Series: A Daughter's Memories of Björklunden
By Suzanne Boynton Meyers
I was 12 when my father married Winifred Vail and I started spending my summers at Björklunden rather than at Dad's logging camp in Au Train, Michigan. When my parents first talked of building a chapel, I was either 15 or 16, and I thought they were starting a new hobby! To me, creating one's own personal chapel suggested a serious involvement in religion, which was not typical for the Boynton family. Although "Mom" was an active Christian Scientist, my dad did not attend any church. However, as time went on, and they both became more involved in all the details of the Chapel, it became clear that there was a strong force driving them -- they were working towards a goal. I feel that Dad's interest in the project was as a supportive husband.
Björklunden was a beautiful summer camp, but all the young people and social life were on the "other side" of the peninsula: Fish Creek, Ephraim, and Sister Bay. That's where the boats, swimming, other kids, and Wilson's Ice Cream Parlor were; in those years of the 1940s, Baileys Harbor was a social wasteland for a young person. As a typical, somewhat self-absorbed and fun-loving teenager, I did not opt to become involved in the Chapel project. In the wonderful vision of hindsight, I now see that I could have learned a lot from my parents about painting, woodcarving, the Bible, and even golf if I had wanted to, but I was not interested in those things.
I mostly created my own fun at Björklunden. Dad taught me riflery, and I did lots of target practice down at the shore; Mom taught me to knit, and to this day, I am an excellent knitter, which led to my lifetime interest in the Scandinavian textile arts; and I listened to traditional jazz records and played jazz piano on the upright in the studio. I also read a lot, walked in the woods, and played tennis whenever there was someone to play with.
I remember many afternoons, sunbathing out on the lawn and listening to Mom play Chopin's Preludes or Nocturnes with such emotional expression on the concert grand piano in the big living room in the lodge. Even though she was out of practice and wasn't technically perfect, she'd play for her relaxation and pleasure, and played with beautiful feeling. It moved and enthralled me, even though I loved the energy of jazz.
One of the few jobs I was ever asked to do was the yearly painting of the dragons on the ridgepoles of the roof. I would climb the ladder with little pots of paint to touch up the white and green eyeballs and red tongues so the dragons would continue to ward off the evil spirits. Although I enjoyed the painting, I wouldn't admit to my fear of heights, so I did the chore but secretly hated it.
The Björklunden tennis court was a welcome spot of social life for me. Because the hard-surfaced court was the only one in the area, we regularly attracted tennis players, some of whom were members of the Peninsula Players. I didn't actually play with the adults but enjoyed watching, bringing drinks out, and chasing balls. They were glamorous! Basil Rathbone's son and his beautiful wife were among the players.
A high point in my memories of adolescence at Björklunden was the all-girls' houseparty I held at age 16. I was allowed to invite my seven best friends from the North Shore of Chicago for five days of non-stop giggling, yelling, running, singing, eating, and noise! -- which was so foreign to my parents, but they were good sports to put up with our highjinks. The biggest adventure of that houseparty was when we all piled into one old six-person canoe and paddled out a mile, whereupon we capsized. Two of the girls couldn't swim and panicked, two strong swimmers came in for help, and the rest slowly pushed the overturned canoe to shore through the cold, rough water. It was a scary event for us all, but fun in retrospect.
Also during that houseparty, we girls drove to a roadhouse near Fish Creek to dance. When we left, a car full of boys followed us, so I showed off and sped through several towns, whereupon I got stopped and ticketed. Dad did not sympathize, and I had to handle the ticket at the courthouse in Sturgeon Bay on my own.
Now, as a senior citizen, looking back at my youthful experience at Björklunden while my parents created the Chapel, I am somewhat regretful about the opportunities to learn that I passed up, but I am now aware that, by osmosis, I did absorb quite a lot from them. I like to study new artistic techniques, which are usually Scandinavian, such as rosemåling and rosepath weaving. In my 20s, I seriously took up golf, which I still enjoy immensely, and I'm sure my love of most classical music stems from Winifred's influence. Björklunden is still breathtaking to me, and although I miss the lodge, the Studio, the woods, and the lake still bring back wonderful memories. But I still won't eat lutefisk!
