To look at him, you might think Al Gruber was a small man. I'm sure endless passers-by made that mistake, especially as he surrounded himself with friends like Mark Borgwardt and Hap Klammer. But even next to those giants, in every memory I have of him, he is larger than life.
Larger than life climbing out of the river at dusk covered in mud and weeds to scare a bunch of kids on their first camping trip. Building his own home and later his sons' homes. Blasting a building-sized hole in the Cedar River with an inflatable dolphin and a roll of toilet paper. Having a little party on a Friday night with a hundred or so guest. Shooting holes in a tent trying to kill the mosquitoes. Hiding six kids under the seats of his over capacity boat when the river patrol came by. And those are the ones I saw with my own eyes.
I feel sorry for future generations who will never hear my Uncle Al and my Dad swapping tales around a fire. I'm glad that most of them wouldn't stand up in a court of law, though. I believed his friend Mark really was a magic giant until I was ten years old. I cringe for children who got on his bad side at school. I will never assume I have privacy on a remote piece of river. I still laugh until it hurts when I recount his call to his youngest sister the day after her daughter's wedding. It's not the most exciting, but my favorite is probably the day he first met my Aunt Trulla, and how he told his friend on the bus that he was going to marry that girl. He loved her to his last breath.
I know we'll all miss that cat-who-ate-the-canary grin and the way he yelled "Angie" even when she was standing right there. We'll miss that guy who would show up to help you with any project and had the best music. The man would do his best to get you out of a jam, even if he's the one who got you into it. He left a huge hole in all our lives. Big guys do that.
