Early New Year's Eves

In the mid-60's my first wife Bonnie and I spent several New Year's Eves in the Munising, MI area at her parents home. It was an old home attached to a general store that also housed the town's post office. Located in Shingleton, MI the home was a short distance from the wilderness that began just east of Shingleton and was known as the Seney stretch. At one time M-28 the highway that ran East/West through Shingleton had the longest stretch of highway with no curves or hills. It ran from Shingleton to Seney, MI for about 25 miles without a break.

On several New Year's Eves I would take a pair of snowshoes from the house and set off down the railroad tracks to the Hickey Creek that ran in a North/South direction and would snowshoe at night along the creek at the edge of the field. Even though there may not be a moon there was still light from the reflection of the stars off the snow. It was dim light, but was a magical period of time. The snow lay unbroken by tracks or footsteps. Diamonds sparkled among the flakes and made the field almost shimmer. In the winter you don't hear the splash of water in the creek, the sounds is more like a gentle bubbling that seems to slide along your senses. You end up wanting to see the creek in the night to watch the water glisten in the reflected light of the snow and disappear into ink black spots as it passes under fallen trees or undercut banks. The snow in places forms hillocks as trees block that air passage and snow falls in the lee of the trees and piles up in cotton ball shapes along the edges of the creek. It is a peaceful time. It is as though nature and God were whispering songs of solace and comfort. I often wished Bonnie had not been so afraid of the woods and I had someone to share this spiritual experience with. Often I found myself simply standing, looking at the snow blanketed forest, observing the quiet movement of water in the stream, and then scanning out to the field and wondering at the beauty of the scene. It was always cold, but I was bundled and I think the setting provided its own warmth of spirit. I often spent several hours in the woods and then would return to the Dolaskie home.

Coming in from outside felt so good. Bonnie and her mother had made snacks and there was usually cold shrimp cocktails to nibble on while my hands and feet thawed. We would watch the New Year come in, then climb the squeaky stairs to a small bedroom with a soft bed and many blankets. We had a window that looked out on the intersection of M-28 and M-94, there would be a flashing red light suspended over the intersection that seemed somehow comforting. If the wind would pick up in the night you could hear it rounding the corner of the house and sighing up against the garage. It was a wild setting in God's great outdoors and one I shall remember and cherish the rest of my life.

By the way, on more than one trek I would fall into the Hickey Creek and get wet. There was no danger of drowning, the creek was small and very shallow. It would cut my revere short however, and I would traipse back home to be received with grins from Tom & Glady at the antics of their son-in-law. That is also part of the good memories.