Ben Bricker: fanfare for an uncommon man

By F. Josephine Arrowood
Sun contributor

The sudden death of Ben Bricker, early on Monday, December 12, has saddened and shaken not only the Glen Arbor community, but people who loved him in places near and far: his children Cherrie, Bruce, and Beth and their spouses, his brother Bill and sister Barbara, his grandchildren and great-grandchildren, nieces, nephews, in-laws, friends, colleagues, neighbors, and acquaintances from the many phases of a life long and well-lived.

As the news spread, some were bewildered, exclaiming, “But we just saw him, and he seemed fine!” Others nodded knowing heads: “A heart attack, yes. He’d lost his wife less than two years ago, you know.” “Heartbroken,” still others murmured, wrapping both the departed and themselves in three sad syllables.

But the final melancholy notes of Ben’s passing say little about the person whose life encompassed nearly a century, and whose uncommon touch connected so many people in so many places. He carried the kind of graceful humility that comes from deep certainty, of knowing oneself rooted in strong family foundations, gifts nurtured and supported from an early age, and abundant energy and will. Yes, he had his feet of clay (he was, after all, a ceramist), and he might have felt embarrassed at fulsome public pronouncements of his many attributes. He also would have enjoyed the opportunity his passing has created for people to, “Bring a dish to pass, a bottle to share, a story to tell, and tears to spill,” at his memorial party on December 17 at his home on Little Glen Lake.

Benjamin Smith Bricker was a man of the four elements: First and always, an artist whose fire created objects of useful beauty in forged iron, precious metals and stones, and thrown clay. A man whose love of family extended to the many communities in which he lived — including Winnetka, IL, Kalamazoo, Muskegon, Mexico, Tanzania as a Peace Corps volunteer in the 1980s, and Glen Arbor – he inspired so many by example to live full, useful, and more interesting lives.

Artist Richard Kooyman of Bear Lake shared, “Ben helped create a place for creativity in this world. He is still a role model for all artists and craftspeople who believe that the arts are one of the most important things we have in life.”

Ben’s earthy side was shaped as a lifelong explorer and educator whose practical ideals energized students: from Nazareth College where he was head of the art department, to his blacksmithing forge, and the studio shared with wife Ananda (and often other family members), to the students at Glen Lake High School where he was still volunteer teaching, to Tanzania where he taught silversmithing, to the vessels he created as donations to the annual Empty Bowls food pantry fundraiser in the Grand Traverse region.

Former Glen Lake art teacher and friend Gretchen Deegan Siebers called him, “My art angel,” and Empty Bowls volunteer Dianne Navarro of Empire lamented the loss of “my new best friend” with whom she was throwing clay pots recently.

In World War II, Ben discovered a love of flight and trained other pilots — the beginning of his lifelong vocation as an educator. He flew his own plane for many years, often on grueling solo journeys across the Midwest to Arizona and New Mexico.

His ideas soared as well, including an unassailable belief in democracy and civil discourse, and he loved to see the development of others’ intellectual and creative gifts. A former neighbor in Muskegon, Vicki Firme Stewart, wrote to Ben’s daughter Cherrie, “I treasure the memories I have of your mom and dad – I learned more from them than anyone would imagine. They shared themselves and their love of life with so many others. They gave us courage and supported dreams. Those gifts are never lost.”

His love of learning extended beyond his own death as well; he donated his body to the University of Michigan for study. One can imagine him leaning forward, white beard jutting, to look in delighted curiosity at the proceedings: “What will they find? How was I put together from this or that angle? How well did I hold up, here and here and here?”

Finally, Ben knew watery depths. As a young man, his skill at diving won him a place in the 1944 U.S. Summer Olympics, which were cancelled due to the ongoing world war. He continued to love the water all his life, drawing inspiration and enjoyment from his home on Little Glen Lake; as recently as 2010, he trained and competed in a seniors’ swim race, despite some health problems and the loss of his beloved wife earlier in the year. Though his feelings ran deep, he wasn’t one to wallow in them, preferring to put his energy into whatever action he could in the given day.

What tools best measure a man’s life? Is it worldly success? Love for family? An artistic temperament? A passion for civic engagement? An athlete’s skill and grace? Ben had all of these, and he used them well throughout his 89 years.

Some of Ben’s history is well-known to the community, including his co-founding of the Glen Arbor Art Association. He also told many stories about himself (usually in a humorous vein), and others will continue to share their memories and anecdotes about him. One small tale, told during a holiday dinner at his daughter Beth’s house, aptly illustrates the boy who became the man we knew and loved.

By all accounts, Ben was the “golden lad” of his family in Winnetka. As a young entrepreneur in his father’s bakery during the Depression, he sold day-old goods out the back door in lieu of attending church with the family on Sundays. He gleefully reported that he made enough money to buy himself, at age 14, a new Ford automobile, which he drove out West with two friends in the summer of 1936 – with the blessing of his parents.

As soon as he got the car, he proceeded to take it apart, piece by piece. “The whole thing was only bolted together,” he laughed, “and I wanted to see how it was made.”

The friends traveled along newly-built Route 66, and Ben said that on some of the long journey, they unbolted part of the car’s brake assembly, “so we had more room in back!” As the car descended a long grade or approached a town, they would simply reattach the mechanism, he related very casually.

Periodically, the boys would need to wire home to get more money. Ben would tell his parents to send it to whatever post office was nearby, in care of general delivery, which they did with apparent sanguinity.

Among other adventures that summer, he traveled to southern New Mexico and explored the newly discovered Carlsbad Caverns with the man who had found the vast subterranean chambers. He also worked on a huge ranch, “riding the fence line,” to repair damaged livestock fencing, and eventually made his way home again to Winnetka, via the Great Plains states, in time for the beginning of school that September.

Several years ago, Ben decided to write down his wealth of life experiences, with the possibility of publishing a memoir. But after struggling with the scope of the project for a time, he gave up. The truth is, although he had many fascinating stories to tell, Ben Bricker just didn’t have a talent for sitting around chewing the bone of bygone times. He was too attuned to meet each new day as it came: good, bad, painful, serene, tiresome, or exciting.

But this uncommon man didn’t need to write his biography on paper. He had already etched his life on the hearts and in the characters of the people he had touched in his nearly nine decades. His legacy lies in the continuation of that creative spirit through each of us, as celebrated in the words of Walt Whitman: “… and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the rich fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.”

A memorial service will be held Saturday, from 2-5 p.m. at the family’s cottage on Little Glen Lake — 6847 South Dune Highway. Bring a dish to pass, a bottle to share, a story to tell, and tears to spill. Also read Arrowood’s feature and Ben and Ananda Bricker’s improbable 1942 honeymoon on Little Glen, and read about the pioneers who started the Glen Arbor Art Association.

This GlenArbor.com story was sponsored by Wildflowers, a delightful cornerstone of shops in Glen Arbor, offering over an acre of beautiful gardens for customers to stroll through and enjoy in the spring, summer and fall.