Saturday Night at the Grill

Preface

Up in Groveland CA. not far from Yosemite National Park there is a little community called Pine Mountain Lake. It is an unlikely sort of place for the area, Groveland being the quintessential gold mine town from the 1850s. Groveland itself has gone through several cycles of boom and bust; a couple of gold rushes, then a rush some something now more valuable than gold; water with the 1920s building of the Hetch Hetchy reservoir that now supplies all of San Francisco. By the 1960s Groveland was once again a sleepy wayside village just to pass through on the way to Yosemite. Then came the planned community of Pine Mountain Lake, a creation of a corporate lumber company who had the unusual foresight to turn a wood product depleted land into a planned gated community of summer homes complete with, a man made lake, a golf course, stables, an airport, its own fire protection services and a club house called the “Grill”. Now fifty years later it has become a microcosm of mountain life culture clash; some full time owners, some part time owners, rental units, people of different political perspectives as well. It is structured as an HOA (home owners’ association). Nothing can ignite the passion of conflicted of points of view as the travails of an issue in a HOA. Passions burn has hot as the forest fires that threaten the existence of the place. This is one of their stories. What to do about the money-losing Grill.

Saturday Night at the Grill

An August sun always takes its time going down behind the hill. On this day, daylight lingers but at least the summer heat begins to relax its grip. I pull my truck into that last open spot. We had arrived later in the evening knowing from past visits, most of the crowd usually eats early and moves on. However it looks like there is still a healthy size crowd at the Grill tonight. Would there be room for us I wondered? Surprisingly once inside though,  we find plenty of open seats at the bar. Most of the crowd is out on the deck bathing in the hues of pink, peach and melon that paint the western sky. The day’s the golfers have been holding court for awhile though. They are finishing their 19th hole rounds over on the other side of the bar. On the TV, it’s the bottom of the ninth and the Oakland A’s are not doing well against the Giants in the battle of the Bay matchup. It’s hard to tell for which side people in the room are leaning. It’s probably a split down the middle like most issues are up here in Pine Mountain Lake. A retired couple, sitting at the opposite side of the bar from the golfers, have finished their meal.  Their bottle of wine is almost done. The husband meters out the last pour, refreshing her glass first, and I can tell, he is kind of man who always gives his wife the better measure. The chairs on ether side of them are empty, but even if they were not, in this couple’s minds they have the whole place to themselves.

The ballgame and the chatter at the bar is suddenly interrupted by a bit of commotion at the far end of the room. A small group of octogenarians are setting up a karaoke system. Soon the room is filled with the melodies of country, old standards and Beatles love songs. Wobbly voices sing out boldly and each brave troubadour is roundly applauded. The old timers are not alone for long. Their revelry draws the attention of two visiting couples, in their thirties perhaps? They grab their drinks from the bar and join the contest, the young ladies in their pretty summer dresses swaying to the music. There is no matter in the difference in ages, when someone is singing your favorite old song. The bartenders are in overdrive now, but still find a moment to take our dinner orders. The menu is a bit slimmer post pandemic, but the portions generous, just like the smiles of the staff hustling to keep things moving. In many restaurants food is purposely timed to arrive a bit late to coax customers into second round drinks. Not here. Your food is delivered as soon as it’s ready. Another young couple, accompanied with the wife’s mother has arrived and they sit down at the bar to our right. The mother says “I going to sing too”, as she starts to stand up. “Oh no mom, please come back” the daughter says in embarrassed protest. Their debate is interrupted with the delivery of their meals. I suspect however the daughter will be losing her point after the meal. 

The Grill bar is a kind of community social bulletin board as well. Overheard are conversations among strangers talking about the small travails of owning a home in the mountains; dealing with pesky bears, finding a good contractor for a project, when is the best time to go down the grade for shopping or just being grateful for having Mar-Val, the long time local market, in our backyard are common topics. Advice and phone numbers freely exchanged. 

On the other side of the bar a new story unfolds. Gone are the golfers, replaced by three single young ladies just out to enjoy each other’s company and their conversation. Yes, there are other bars in town like the Iron Door with the potential to meet someone, maybe a young man or two is greater there than here at the Grill. But that is there and this is here. Sometimes it just good company with a trusted friend is all you need. There is plenty of that here. 

Sitting between us and the young ladies is an elegantly dressed older couple. Their manner suggests they are long time home owners and probably have seen the times change up here on the hill. Both remain silent as if each where lost in some far away thought. I can see in the woman’s gaze her thoughts are focused on the merriment over by the karaoke. Is she thinking back to a younger self, I wonder?  Maybe to a time when she and her husband would dance to music in this place?  Maybe she is remembering all the summers past, raising her kids here. Maybe she is hoping they bring up the grandkids soon and she can enjoy a few more days like those gone by. 

A young man who has just sat down on the other side of the young ladies has different aspirations. Dressed in a sleeveless tank top shirt and ball cap on backwards, he displays an impressive array of tattoos. He is probably not aware of the 1980’s era board resolution with its “where as” and “therefors” stating the preferred Grill dress code that commences after 6pm. Frankly though times have changed and no one seems to mind the style of dress these days. In his favor he also displays a broad smile that disarms and invites conversation. With the bartender at least. He is having no effect on the young ladies and maybe their lack of attention will be a more powerful motivation than a board resolution, for just like the flock of turkeys that often ramble through our yards, the lesson that remains true; one needs an impressive array of feathers to get attention. Life has its own built in rules that don’t need to be written down in a board resolution.

The outside, on the deck, the early arrival crowd is done. Little kids come scampering in, carrying take-home boxes and rush for the door. Opposite from what might happen at some cookie-cutter fast-food place, its the parents who idly follow up from behind, still enjoying their last bit of conversation. The young ladies use the opportunity to grab an outside table to enjoy the twilight and the cool breeze. Just then, to my surprise, fresh group of people start arriving.  In visits past, I have seen the Grill empty out fairly early. Not tonight. Usually it is only bar flies like me that wander in at this time of night, but there are more families arriving as well. Tables are cleared and people seated. 

It may seem as everyone can see everyone and everything at the Grill, but that is not completely true. At the Grill one can invisible if one wants. If you are in a wheelchair for example. All you really want sometimes, heck most times, is not to be defined only by how you get around. Back in town, it’s not so easy to wheel around in town built in the 1850s. Every step, threshold, gravel path and loose plank is a not-welcome mat. Mobility is not something a many of people think about. Here at the Grill, though, one can park a car, stroll in and step up to a bar as easy and as invisible as one wants. What is value of that? Priceless for some. What is the cost? Well a lot of people talk about the cost of things, don’t they? But they never seem to pay enough attention to the quality of things. 

My wife and I talk, well honestly sometimes argue, about the cost of things. We have argued about the cost of curtains for example. Windows work perfectly well without them. Windows keep out the cold in winter, keep out the heat in summer and they are nice to look through. All without the amenity of curtains.  What more does one need really. So how fancy the curtains need to be or how much we should spend for the amenity of a curtain has been a debated topic. They say the Grill is an amenity. Something pretty, nice to have, but not a necessity. Is it? Not a necessity? Maybe not, but maybe it something else entirely, a quality of life perhaps. Is that too much of a reach? Is the Grill a quality of life?  Ask the old couple still in love, the golfers, the girl friends, the karaoke singers, the  newcomers discovering the charms of Pine Mountain Lake for the first time, the elegant woman longing for her grandchildren, the young man looking companionship, the families with kids, the person in the wheelchair. Is the Grill just a pair of curtains dressing up a window or for them or a quality of life? 

A place can have its own personality; the generational collective of the people who populate the place. That essence is of quality of life. People up here on the hill know that well. So, be careful of what one  would cast aside too casually. It could be part of you and your quality of life