Weird Al

Al, our cat, is making adjustments to her life since our little dog Cilla passed away. As long as we've had Al, some twelve years now, she has shared our home with dogs. Al has withstood their influence, disregarded their attempts at intimidation, or just fled the scene when it became uncomfortable. In retrospect Al seemed to take the road of least resistance in her dealing with her brethren.

Now it has been a month since Cilla died. Our household, still feeling the effects of that small dog's disappearance is nonetheless getting on with life. Al is altering her behavior. Al has never been much of a social creature. When Terry and I are in one of our easy chairs Al may come and sit on the arm of the chair, or lie on our lap. Terry seems to draw the most attention. When Cilla was alive both Al and Cilla would end up on Terry's lap when she sat in her recliner. I think Terry enticed them to her lap so I would have to wait on her in the evening rather than disturb "the kids."

Al now will often be found sitting next to me. I may be working on the computer and I get the sense that something is nearby. Looking around Al may be sitting on the floor just a foot or so from my chair. She doesn't want to come up on my lap, if I pet her she just sits taking the stroking in stride. But she wants to be close. If you are outside she will run up to you and walk along with you wherever you are going. At night she always starts out on the bed with us. For the first few weeks since Cilla's passing she would spend the night on the foot of the bed. Now however she has discovered the sofa table in front of the picture window. In the past she would sometimes sit on the table looking at the outdoors. Lately she has taken to spending a lot of time on the table. Terry has put a folded bath mat on the table as a cushion. We've even washed Cilla's little snuggy bed and put that up on the table, but Al seems to ignore that. Now however, Al will get up in the middle of the night and come downstairs and lie on that table facing the picture window. When I go to work in the morning, and no one is home, Al will be on the table in the window. Perhaps she vicariously experiences being outside without having to put up with the cold weather.

Al has gotten weird.

A Friend's Mom

I read in the Mining Journal yesterday that Elaine Hase passed away. Elaine Hase, Mrs. Hase to me, was the mother of one of my childhood friends, Joe Hase. Joe is an only child. His father "Misty" passed away many years ago and to support herself Mrs. Hase had to learn to drive at age 65 so she could get back and forth to work. It doesn't sound like much, but that is quite an accomplishment.

I did not know Joe's mom well even though he and I grew up together. Mr. & Mrs. Hase and Joe lived, when they were in Munising, with Mr. Hase's mother in a small house two doors down from where I lived. Included in that family mix was Misty's brother Billy Hase, an arch nemesis of Joey and I during our childhood days. Billy was a bully, a drinker and dimwitted. I used to tease him to the point that if he ever got his hands on my I'm sure I would've taken quite a beating. Joey used to ask me not to piss him off as he had to go home to him.

I didn't know Mrs. Hase very well. She was a petite blonde, pretty that I remember. She worked for years at the Paris Hotel, a men's hotel in downtown Munising. Mrs. Hase always seemed to have those menial jobs that people take to get along. Mr. Hase worked construction that I recall and of course was not employed all of the time. In their early years Joe would be around in the summer, then Mr. & Mrs. Hase would move to Detroit where Joe's dad would find employment to carry through the winter. Around the 7th grade the Hase family moved back to Munising to take up residence with Grandma Hase (Blanche) until Joe and I graduated from high school. I think they lived there until Grandma Hase passed away, Billy passed away, and then I don't know where Elaine and Misty lived.

Mrs. Hase always was friendly to me. She always spoke but we never carried on much of a conversation. I was never in the Hase home, the living conditions were probably crowded and with Billy around most of the time that would never work out. I remember when Joe and I were in the 8th grade we were going to lift weights to build ourselves up for football. He found some weights and a bar and we lifted weights in the basement of Grandma Hase's home. It was a dirt floor and I was tall enough that when I did an overhead lift I hit the floor joists above my head. That cause Grandma Hase to rush out the back door to see what was making such a racket. I don't remember being yelled at, just told to take care.

My Dad used to tell me that Joe's grandpa was the town clerk, or some such position years ago in Munising. I don't remember the exact title, but he had passed and for all the years Joey and I lived near each other he was gone.

It was a difficult life for my friend Joe. His family was not ambitious by the usual definition. Misty was content to be a laborer, I do not even know if Joe's mom and dad graduated high school. Billy was a bum, he might've taken odd jobs but I don't know what he did. Grandma Hase was a good woman, but she had a daughter that was a real hellion. I don't remember her name right now, but she was a town slut, drinking and partying. She might have married one time, but I don't think it lasted. Every once and a while she would show up at the Hase home and I seem to recall upset and yelling, I suppose as Mother Hase would chastise her daughter's behavior.

Joe made something of himself. He was the first Hase of that family to go to college. He ended up teaching in Munising for years and retired a couple of years ago. His wife Barb is the Superintendent of the Munising Public Schools and will be retiring in a few years. Joe was a neighborhood leader, he was always organizing the neighborhood kids into basketball teams, football teams, or baseball teams. He and I concocted all kinds of tournaments, leagues, and provided the only form of organized sports in our area. Joe went on to be a coach in several sports at Munising, last being the golf coach. Joe is a truly good man, from a background that I simply do not know much about, but I believe to be pretty dismal.

However, Joe loved his parents. He and Misty always had a fishing/camping trip every summer. It was in the Munising area, but it was a time the two of them spent in the woods fishing and being together. He provided care for Mrs. Hase in her declining years and it cost him money he could use in retirement, but other than talk about it he did his duty to his folks.

Joe now has no living parents. This is a strange period of time. My folks have been gone now for 13 years. My mother 38, my dad 13. When they are living you can pick up the phone and talk to them. It is as though they are a buffer between you and growing old. As long as they are alive, there is someone you are close to still living, so you will still be living. When they are gone, it is like an anchor or core disappeared. Now you are really on your own. There is no more buffer in the aging process, you now go it alone. Well not really, your wife is around, but this is blood, this is famiy. I love my wife dearly, she is my family along with my children, but she isn't blood. There is a different feeling about life when you finally have no Aunts, Uncles or parents. It isn't sad, it is just different.

Snowshoe softball

Circa 1954: When I was quite young, living in Munising, MI winter could be a long period cooped up indoors. Yet quite honestly I remember it as a time I spent a lot of time out of doors. One event that no longer exists is the Snowshoe softball game played annually between the local Lion's Club and the Conservation Club. The Conservation Club had a clubhouse East of town off of M-28. I think it was mostly a social club although they did have a shooting range nearby.

In the dead of winter when the snow was deep and days could be pleasant a game would be held usually on a Sunday afternoon. It was truly a social gathering. The club house would be plowed out, the heaters fired up, and men from both clubs would gather to play softball on snowshoes. My Dad was the catcher for the Lions. I believe there would be some form of libation at first base for those ball players that got a hit and made it to first. You know, something to tide them over until they got to second. I do not recall if it was a keg of beer, but you sure didn't have to ice the beer down, just stuff the keg in a snow drift and you had ice cold tap, yum!

My Dad was in his late 50's and played in that game every year. It was a rollicking joyful event filled with good natured ribbing and hilarity. I don't recall how many innings were play, probably six. Men ran, fell, got snow down there back, strained muscles that would be sore for days after, but they had fun and made a bleak winter lively.

The wives were also along. Many came out and watched the game, many snow shoed off through the woods enjoying the winter scenery. Some played cards in the club house, and others prepared food. There was a mutual dinner afterward that was mostly potluck. I think that each club threw money in a pot to buy a meat dish. It seems I can remember grilled hamburgers and hot dogs. There was always a bar and as the afternoon wore on the talk grew lively and the goodwill was evident even though many of these men did not socialize on a regular basis.

Someone had a camp northeast of the Conservation Club, I do not remember now whose it was. The name that pops into my head is Hemmingway. My folks were friends with them and often while the game was played some of the ladies would snowshoe into the camp, open it up and enjoy a few nips enjoying the woodsy scene.

I mostly remember the spirit of the occasion. It seemed like a lively pastime to organize and make a fun event out of a long cold winter. The warmth of human spirit can overcome so much.

Charlie's Tenderloin Sandwiches

Charlie Everett and his wife Almeda were long time residents of Munising, MI. They were business people and owned a series of restaurants and nightclubs in their day. Back in the 50's there was a hotel on Grand Island, Charlie ran that. I do not know if he owned it, but he and Almeda ran the place. That is a different story for a different day. He also owned the Beach Inn located on the shore of the bay in Munising and was a local restaurant and eatery that burned in 1950. Around 1958 Charlie and Almeda built and opened the Red Cedar Restaurant now known as Sydney's on M-28 at the bottom of the hill as you head east out of Munising.

My mother was hired as the Salad Lady. This meant that she prepared salads and desserts. Now, my mother was a wonderful cook. Her rhubarb pie was to die for. However this little story is not even about that.

Charlie made a tenderloin sandwich. It was grilled and served on a hard roll. It was absolutely delicious. It was butter tender, with a horseradish mustard it was and elegant lunch. The sandwich was only served during lunch. Once an a while there would be some meat left and my mother would bring home a few sandwiches that we would eat for dinner.

To this day I enjoy taking left over steak, saute` it in butter and serve it on a big sesame seed bun. Horseradish mustard and a cold beer (NA) and you have a wonderful lunch. Every time I have that type of lunch I think of Charlie and Almeda, the Red Cedar Restaurant and Charlie's Tenderloin Sandwich.