He was conceived in an ice fishing shack on Riley’s Bay.
Riley’s Bay is in eastern Wisconsin; it sticks out from Green Bay about forty miles north of the city by that name. It’s like a fine little lake connected to a much larger body of water, which in turn is part of Lake Michigan, an inland sea. Cedar trees, summer cottages, and a few year-round homes line the shore. Wealthy people had begun tearing down the old cabins and building vacation McMansions with complex roof lines, native limestone facing on the exterior walls, elaborate windows and doors, meticulous landscaping, fancy decks and hot tubs facing the water.
Regarding the parents, Alice was eighteen, and Alvin nineteen.
Alice’s great grandfather arrived in the area, southern Door County, after immigrating from Germany. He married the daughter of an Irish dairyman. As the generations came along, the Germans and Irish married into families with roots in Belgium and Holland. Alice stood 5 foot 11 inches tall with striking blond hair and eyes that reminded people over 60 of Elizabeth Taylor’s violet gaze. She was captain of the high school volleyball team, ran track in the spring, belonged to the National Honor Society and made the honor roll every semester. Alice planned on attending the University of Wisconsin in the fall, where she hoped to earn a degree in special education for elementary students.
Alvin’s paternal grandfather and grandmother came to America from Denmark; his father married the daughter of an Icelandic apple grower. Alvin was one powerful human; standing 6 foot 3 inches tall with broad shoulders and a torso like the trunk of a two-hundred-year-old oak. The high school wrestling and football coaches tried repeatedly to get him on their teams without success. He was not a joiner. Alvin didn’t study for most classes in high school; he had thrived in the shop wing and was the top student at the local technical college.
On a Thursday afternoon in early February, Alice and Alvin decided to have an adventure out on the ice. It was 9 degrees with bright blue skies, thanks to an arctic high that originated in Siberia and swept across Alberta Canada before invading the northern Midwest. A steady 18 mile an hour wind from the north numbed their faces. Their eyes watered; their noses and cheeks blossomed bright red. A robust stream of clear snot inundated their upper lips. Alvin pinched the snot off with his gloves and flicked it into the snow.
At about 2:30 Alvin cut the lock off the nearest ice house with a battery operated angle grinder he borrowed from his father. He had brought the tool for that purpose. Besides the angle grinder, he had a case of Miller Lite and two-family size bags of flaming hot Doritos. He liked being prepared, although he was not Boy Scout material.
Inside the shack they found a gold mine.
The windows high on the walls helped Alice and Alvin could look around. Alvin said, “Shit, this is nicer than my grandmother’s mobile home,” which was the finest domicile he had ever seen from the inside. Alice released a low whistle.
One of those McMansion owners must have owned this McFishing palace. Everything they saw was brand new and top quality, including a propane space heater, a huge Yeti cooler, comfortable slinging back chairs (like parents used to watch their kids’ soccer games), an insulated floor with a long trap door in the middle to cover the fishing holes. A five-gallon Home Depot bucket with tip ups and other fishing gear sat in one corner. A gas-powered auger for cutting holes in the ice hung from a hook on one wall. There were two shelves along the back wall, one had a lantern, some books and a battery-operated Bose radio; several bottles of spirits stood on the other shelf along with a set of substantial whiskey glasses. A built-in bench ran almost the entire length of the room. It had a cushioned top that flipped up to reveal a storage space with two pillows, a pair of Hudson Bay blankets and a down comforter. A set of heavy brass hooks were attached to the wall on each side of the door, perfect for hanging winter outerwear. The smell of freshly cut pine hit their noses and screamed, “New construction.”
They had broken into the Windsor Castle of ice houses.
Alice said, “What kind of moron leaves all their stuff in an ice house? Must be a rich FIB from one of those new mansions.”
Alvin fired up the heater with its electric start mechanism.
Then they made themselves comfortable by opening the first cans of beer and pouring double shots of Jaeger Meister compliments of whoever owned the place. They tuned the radio to their favorite country and western station and settled into the sling back chairs.
They weren’t after perch or white fish. They had a different agenda. They had been dating for a few months, which involved some passionate sessions when they steamed up the windows of Alvin’s car while parked on the back roads. They were both virgins.
After the third beer, Alvin got up and turned down the heat because their little corner of heaven was a broiling 80 degrees. He stripped off his tattered winter jacket and Carhartt coveralls. Alice removed her tired Polaris brand snowmobiling suit. She had bought it at a local thrift store for 8 bucks, because she was that way. They immediately put their boots back on; despite the insulation the floor was cold. It sat on top of the 14-inch-thick ice that covered the bay.
They spent the next 2 hours talking, drinking beer, nursing glasses of Jager, and necking.
They retrieved the pillows and blankets and shared the built-in bench. They littered the floor with sweatshirts, pants, and long underwear. They even took off their boots.
Alvin failed to prepare for his first sexual experience; oh, well.
As the sun set and the western sky turned smokey orange, the soon-to-be-expectant parents got dressed, returned the blankets and pillows to their storage space, found a plastic bag for the empty beer cans, and headed home. Before trekking across the ice, Alvin kicked a substantial mound of snow against the shack’s door to keep it closed. He felt bad about the broken lock, but he thought the owner could afford another.
The trip back to their car was tougher than their first walk across the ice; the temperature had fallen to 3 below and wind blew a steady 20 mph. But these two children of northern European descent understood all about the cold. They held hands while walking on the ice and driving home.
They never returned to the fishing shack. They continued dating, but avoided talking about that afternoon on the ice. They didn’t make love again because they were scared about the risk they had taken.
Alice became concerned. She was 10 days late. One Saturday morning, she told her mother that she needed to drive to Green Bay to pick up some volleyball equipment for the team. Her mom let her drive the 4-year-old Ford F150 instead of the 15-year-old Escort. No one needed any volleyball stuff. She really went to buy a home pregnancy test at a drug store where nobody knew her. On the way back home, she stopped at the BP station south of Dyckesville and retired to a stall in the lady’s room. She was the third teenager to use that stall for the same purpose in the last 5 months. Hers was the only positive result – lucky Alice.
That night she and Alvin had a date. Alice appeared nervous; she didn’t have much to say. That meant Alvin had to do the talking; not much was said. They quietly ate sandwiches at the Subway in Sturgeon Bay and went to the movies. After the show they parked on a bluff overlooking the bay.
Alice started crying and said, “I’m pregnant.”
Alvin said, “What?”
She repeated, “I’m pregnant, and I’m keeping the baby.”
In the next 8 weeks they overcame the shock, and made plans. During this time two things happened: they discovered that they loved each other, and Alice took control of their lives. Alvin readily accepted this new arrangement. He was growing up and knew that he often showed bad judgement, like not being fully prepared for their afternoon on the ice. He gladly let Alice take the helm – the best decision he ever made.
The couple had a simple wedding that May, with a reception in the church basement. They moved into a 35-year-old hand-me-down mobile home on an acre of land next door to Alice’s parents and across the road form the apple orchard owned by Alvin’s paternal grandfather . The furniture and everything else they needed came from garage sales and the Saint Vincent De Paul resale store in Algoma. They kept an immaculate home; Alice insisted, and Alvin complied.
Niles Riley was born in a Ford Econoline van the following November 29th at 3 AM. The labor pains started around 4:00 PM on the 28th. Unfortunately, a late autumn blizzard steamed out of the west at exactly the same time. At 1:00 AM on the 29th, Alvin and Alice started the 17-mile drive to the hospital. The snow was 10 inches deep and still coming. The flakes streaked horizontally through the headlight beams, to the point where Alvin was virtually blind. The county roads were unplowed and icy, because the storm started out as freezing rain. Despite his extreme caution, he lost control when the road curved to the left. The vehicle spun around two times and slid into the ditch. They were stuck with no hope of escape. There wasn’t a cell phone signal that far out into the country. Luckily the engine still ran, the gas tank was full and they could stay warm.
Alvin cut the umbilical cord using a utility knife, which he sterilized with a Bic lighter he found under the passenger’s seat. He wrapped Niles in a large beach towel with pictures of the Rugrats on it. He had neglected to bring the towel inside after the last picnic of the summer, which happened to take place at Haines Beach on Riley’s Bay.
At 5:30 AM Alvin flagged down a 42-year-old welder, Al Malvitz, who was driving to his job at the Sturgeon Bay shipyard. He took the new family to the hospital. Alice and Niles were both in good shape, considering the circumstances. Alvin was a wreck.
They named the boy after his great grandfather and a beautiful little bay, but his loving parents called him Jaeger.