Three Arrows Barbque

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There are few who do not in some way take pleasure in having a barbeque. Some die-hard barbequers barbeque in the frozen parking lots of mid-season football games out the back of their F-250 pick-up trucks. Others run their barbeques like the kitchen of a four star restaurant. Barbequers such as these have been known to start the marination process days in advance with a wide array of meats and vegetables. Others just want barbeque wherever they are, regardless of the situation. These barbequers will set up a grill all willy-nilly, on the beach, in the street, wherever, just because nothing beats a fresh grilled Brat and a burger, no matter where you are. Now, in my day I’ve been to many a different kind of barbeque, but in my youth I only knew one kind.

Barbeques in Three Arrows Cooperative Society are quite an event. Organizing a barbeque for 75 families is a difficult feat anywhere, but is especially interesting at Three Arrows. First there is the old guard to worry about. These are the old men and women who remember Three Arrows in the 30’s when it was a fully functional socialist community. By the time I was a kid most of them passed the time by playing bridge and scrabble on the dock, occasionally regaling an unsuspecting youth with stories of the old times. Some of the other old folks would garden, or run little workshops like embroidery or T-Shirt making. What all the old guys had in common was an inexplicable love for debate and discussion, combined with a resentment for any kind of change or rapid decision making. Community meetings could have been finished in half an hour, but instead were always affairs that dragged out for what seemed like days.

Besides the old guys, Three Arrows consisted of people with young kids who saw the charm of living in an eccentric community all summer. Barbeques were an event that everyone could agree were good, but no one could agree when or where to have them. Only after much heated discussion and passionate oration could a date, time, and location be resolved. I first learned about Three Arrows Barbecues way back in 1994. It was my family’s first summer at three arrows and there was to be a big bonfire barbeque for July fourth. Plans for this barbeque started months in advance, but for me it really began at around 3:00 in the afternoon. Paul Garvin came rumbling up the hill in his always-too-small-for-the-job pickup with Cliff Fee in the front seat. Cliff had no kids of his own, but took on the role of every kid’s favorite uncle. He took it upon himself to make sure every event, particularly barbeques, were kid friendly with lots of games. They drove up the hill picking up various grills from any house that owned one, using us kids for help with the lifting. As a six year old riding in the back of that red truck with all those other kids and grills, I couldn’t possibly have been happier, especially since it was all in the name of a barbeque. After we got all the grills we could, which took two or three trips, we deposited them all at the ballfield.

With the grills out of the way, Cliff pulled a huge box out of the bed of the truck. There were Frisbees, eggs, spoons, water balloons, a tug-of-war rope, and a whole assortment of other games and prizes. At every barbeque, it was always important to test the water balloons thoroughly while the adults went around lighting the grills. Because this was the 4th of July, there was also a massive pile of brush and logs heaped together in the middle of the field, which would eventually become the bonfire. The smell of charcoal permeated the summer air and just as the sun began to dip beneath the treetops, the people began to arrive. The kids came first, tearing down the road to the ballfield at a dead run. The parents arrived, with food and instruments in hand. My dad arrived with my mother and all 12 of his harmonicas in a gallon sized zip-lock bag, knowing that Cliff would at some point orchestrate some sort of communal musical fiasco. My mom had in tow a tremendous plate of skewered meats, and a smaller plate of home-made brownies. These brownies were a legend around Three Arrows and I knew they would be gone immediately, but I also knew that there was likely a second and maybe even a third batch at home at my dad’s request. Finally, the old guys would pull up in their cream colored Buick’s, Paula Ariel bellowing after poor old Lee, “Where are the franks? Did you bring the franks?”

As representatives from each family manned the grills, a separate brigade set to lighting the bonfire. Cliff and a number of others had been trying to light the heap by starting cardboard and small kindling first, much to the frustration of Artie Witsotzki who had been watching their effort from the sidelines. Finally, he erupted, “Leave it to me, I’m a volunteer firefighter.” With that said, he strolled over to his truck and began rummaging. This simple sentence drove Cliff and the others into a frenzy trying to ignite the pile before Artie returned. Alas, Artie returned with a can of gas, his fireproof jacket, and his firefighter’s helmet complete with the fire retardant visor before it could be lit. There was no need to say, “Step back” as he walked around the pile dumping on the gasoline, as everyone had already vacated the immediate area. He pulled on his jacket, lowered his visor, and lying on the ground he apprehensively extended his lighter towards the gasoline soaked pile. Immediately, the pile erupted into flames, sending a wave of fire over Artie’s well-protected back. Artie arose triumphantly, the kids were extatic, and the old folk complained heartily as if protesting how abruptly the fire had started.

As the smell of steak, chicken, burgers, hot dogs, roast corn, sausage, and whatever else people liked to grill rose into the air, people would forget the meetings and debating. Even though the bonfire was far too hot for anyone to get within 15 yards of for most of the night, people would sit around it with stories and music. Barbeques were times when people remembered why they loved Three Arrows. There were always good people, good food, and live music of more questionable quality.