Today's Link to the Past

We seem to be facing difficult times. The price of gas has risen to $4.00 a gallon. Yet I drive approximately 400 miles a week for work and have kept on going. Thoughts of alternate methods to conserve are entering my mind. My wife and I recently examined ads for an all electric car to get around our home town. It is odd, we are on the verge of paying off our home which will free up a great deal of cash to invest or make home improvements. Prices are rising, the stock market is tumbling, the world is chaotic, the Republicans and the Democrats are beginning the throes of the Presidential election heartache, yet I find life good.

It does make me remember some of the things I have gone through with others and think about times long ago. August 21, 1965 Bonnie (my first wife) and I married in Munising, MI. Bonnie had graduated from Albion College with a degree in education and a major in German. My parents could no longer afford to send me to Albion, I had gotten myself into a credit predicament that could cost me another semester to graduate, plus my parents moved to Wisconsin so I became a Wisconsin resident.

Bonnie and I made plans to get married the summer of 1965 and decided that I could transfer to the University of Wisconsin and she could get a job in Madison as a school teacher. Good plan, I'd finished my schooling, she'd support the effort then I'd find a job and we'd set off down life's path without much of an idea of what would take place, but hell, we were young.

Well, I was working in Milwaukee that summer on the Chicago & Northwestern RR. I took some time before the wedding to go to Madison and find us a place to live. I found a nice one bedroom furnished apartment on the south side of Madison just off Park Street. I was through Madison once some years ago and drove by the area, it had changed so dramatically that I was just about lost, but I did find the apartment complex and it still existed. Anyway, the apartment complex had a pool, was full of students, and seemed like the right place. I made the down payment and the rent would be $135.50 per month. No sweat, surely a teacher makes more than that. I hadn't thought up the original idea of investigating things yet.

Well, Bonnie and married, set off for Madison, and with school starting, not knowing teachers search a job out the year before, we embarked on this journey. The first thing we found out is Madison is full of educators, teachers are coming out of the walls. There were a lot of graduate students who had married, their spouses were teachers and any hope of finding a job teaching for Bonnie disappeared in the first few days of searching. It rapidly boiled down to finding a job. We had a few hundred dollars between us, no great savings, no income and a lease.

Bonnie finally found a job at Sear's as a credit analyst. In other words, she searched credit applications for approval. She brought home $56.36 a week in wages. If you take that times four she made roughly $230 a months. Take out rent and we had a net income of $94.50 a month for food, gas and entertainment. (By the way, that amounts to less than $25/week for living) We were so naive we did not know we were in trouble.

We had a 1960 Volkswagen that Bonnie's parents had bought her while in high school. It ran well, but I have no idea of the MPG, we just drove it. We had invested in AAA road service, and in the winter when the Madison temperatures can get below zero we used the service quite often. I finally found out that if I took a rough wool tarp type covering and wedged it in around the engine, took the battery out and brought it into the apartment that almost always the car would start in the morning. However, getting the battery out meant taking up the back seat each night and tucking the blanket around the engine compartment.

Gas was between $0.16 and $0.19 a gallon. We could fill up the car for $1.00 a week and run it all week. Bonnie became an expert at budgeting, we made a trip weekly to Piggly Wiggly on the west side of Madison as it had the best prices. No frills boy, just sustenance to subsist. We made friends with Dave and Betsy Jensen who lived next door in our apartment building. Our entertainment consisted of playing a dice game called "Shut Box" and eating Snickerdoodle Cookies chased by some Kool Aid.

We had a TV and I still enjoyed Saturday morning cartoons. Sometimes I would wheel the little fifteen inch black and white TV into the bedroom, set a timer and wake to cartoons playing. We had percolator coffee pot made of some type of plastic, it was the latest thing and that would perk away while we lay in bed watching cartoons. The damn pot would perc, then suck in air and it sounded like and asthmatic person suffering a severe attack. It made us laugh. We didn't know we were in trouble.

Later in the fall I found work in a shoe store to help offset our costs. Bonnie eventually got a second job at the shoe store, it was one way we could still spend time together. Suffice it to say we made it.

Madison taught me some early lessons. One was to trust the budgeting skill of my wife. She was incredible. I have never forgotten that lesson and use it to this day. I don't maintain the detail required when pennies meant the difference between filling the car to go to work, or buying food for a meal. It also taught me that two people can overcome enormous difficulties. It would have been tough for one person as two made a support network.

I also learned that humor never should disappear, regardless how serious the situation there will be humor show up that you should laugh at.

Bonnie and I did not stay together. We did however last for 23 years, and raised two fine daughters. I do keep track of her now, I know where she lives, I know she is happily remarried as am I. I am sure life is good for her. She has that quality to enjoy things and pretty much accept life on its terms. I have learned to try to do that, although I feel I make more of a struggle out of it than others. But life has always been good. It would be better if gas were still $0.19/gal.

The First Day of Summer, 2008

The day started a little overcast and moisture so heavy it looked like fog. The beginning of summer in Arkansas. A doe and her fawn were out early this morning. I would not be surprised it was the fawn's first trip around the yard. The doe was very skittish. I took my morning walk, the temperature was comfortable and there was an odor in the air. I cannot describe the odor, it was a summer smell. I've smelled it before and the memory it evokes is of summer.

Many of my thoughts turn to my northern home, Munising, MI. I recall, even at a very young age being thrilled to be out in nature and the sights, sounds and smells were truly exciting. I recall the odor I sniffed this morning, I've smelled it before when school was out. A time when Joe and I had dug a Campbell's soup can of worms, each. A time when we met outside our houses and got on our bikes for a two or three mile trip out to the Annie River for some summer trout fishing. The air would have that summer smell, I cannot tell you what it is comprised of, but it definitely is summer. It is not hot, it does not smell like concrete or asphalt. It evokes the memory of walking in the woods coming out of a warm field and entering the cool woodland area. It does not smell like the Annie River, that is a separate and distinct odor. The odor does bring back exploration trips up the West Ward trail, out by St. Martin's farm. It brings back the memory of sitting on the hillside above Munising overlooking Munising Bay and looking for wildflowers such as Dutchman's Britches, or Tiger Lilies, or May Flowers. It has a little heat and dust in the memory, but one of comfort, not the dry brittle odor of August.

It was a good morning to smell that odor. I am a seven days away from going north for two weeks to spend time in my old haunts. I will see my children and grandchildren in that faraway place that remains so dear to me. I will smell summer in the north and I will be young again.

Business Sense

My Father worked for the main bank in our home town until 1948. When I was a child there were two banks competing for whatever business a small community could generate. There was the First National Bank of Munising, and The People's State Bank of Munising. The People's State Bank survives to this day.

Dad started with that bank in 1918 as a janitor. Eventually he became head cashier, and our family grew up with banking stories and events that shaped my Dad's business outlook for decades. In 1948, Dad broke off from the bank and began his own Insurance and Real Estate business. His place of business was in downtown Munising. He rented that store front from 1948 until he closed the business in 1965.

Dad did not do too well. He stayed in business 17 years which is remarkable, but when he left the business he was broke. It is hard to imagine, but he was broke at age 65 when most are retiring. He was forced to move from his home of more than 50 years and take up residence in a large city hundreds of miles away and start over.

One of the problems Dad had was he did not have a business heart. If people couldn't pay for their insurance the old man might just fork over the premiums out of his own pocket. He would tell my Mother, they just can't pay right now, the husband lost his job, is hurt or some other reason for inability to pay insurance premiums. Dad felt everyone should have insurance to protect their property or to provide for their family in the event of their death.

One such man was Roy Graves of Shingleton, MI. Roy worked in the logging industry and eventually came to own a sawmill. He made good money furnishing maple lumber to the Japanese bowling industry when that sport became the rage in Japan in the 70's and 80's. Years before though Roy had been an independent contractor cutting and hauling logs out of the forests of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

Times were tough, work was subject to the vagaries of weather. The lumber market was always shifting. Eventually the market was in hardwoods, but still for independent contractors life was a roller coaster. One period Roy fell on hard times and had to let the insurance lapse on his logging truck. As luck would have it, the garage it was stored in caught fire and the building and truck burned up in the blaze. A few days later Roy came to my Father and asked, "Vern, you don't suppose that the insurance on that truck was still enforce?" My Dad looked it up, and to Roy's amazement and delight he found my Dad had paid the premium and the insurance would cover the loss of the truck.

For many years every time I saw Roy he would retell the story and how much he thought of my Dad. In the end, the practice of underwriting his own business cost him the business. However, one time his practice did save a man's ability to earn a living and earned my father a friend for life.

An Old Friend Died

Years ago, perhaps 1960 or 61 our high school football team began two a day practice in mid-August. Fuzzy Boyak, a fellow student and a year ahead of me in school came out for the football team. Fuzzy had not participated in sports, although I think his family had an athletic history. Fuzzy was a student, I do not know if he was a scholarly type student or what school social group he fit into. I know he was personable, he was known around school, but in my circles he was pretty much nondescript. Yet he came out for football, but wasn't a jock. Fuzzy was a year ahead of me, I graduated in 1962, Fuzzy graduated in 1961. I think he was a Junior when he came out for football.

I think he and I touched on his motivation, but I'm not sure I remember what it was. I believe he felt his high school years were passing without his making a mark. I think we talked about his concern about not participating, not trying, or some reasoning similar to that.

For whatever reason I took a shine to Fuzzy and it was reciprocated. Years later he would tell me that he appreciated my reaching out because he wasn't in the "in" crowd, not even in his same grade.

One thing I do remember is we walked down to "Mary's Grill" after practice every afternoon and had a hot fudge sundae. It became a daily routine, I honestly don't know if we did that every day because I'm not sure I had the money to afford a hot fudge sundae every day. It seemed like it. We are talking about 48 years ago or there abouts. Regardless, for years I would recall this time, as brief as it may have been, as a time I came to support a person for their effort simply because they made the effort. Fuzzy didn't last, he got knocked around, he was not athletic, he tried, but I think he gave up. I don't think his giving up effected him that much, I think he satisfied himself that he made the attempt and at least had the courage to do that.

This evening, April 9, 2008 I received an email from a man in my home town telling a group of us on his mailing list that Fuzzy had passed away. Apparently it happened Monday evening, cause unknown at this time. Now, here I sit, wondering about our friendship all those years ago.

Fuzzy went to college, I think Northern Michigan University in Marquette, but until I read his obituary I won't know. He moved away and became active in banking, and eventually ended up back in Munising working at the First National Bank. Fuzzy eventually became the President and CEO of the bank and a "mover and shaker" in our small home town. The last time I saw Fuzzy was last summer when I went back north for the 4th of July celebration. Fuzzy was driving the vehicle pulling the bank's float and I yelled at him and got a small wave back. I don't think he recognized me because I was a face in a group of people and he was concentrating on the task at hand. That is the last time I saw him alive.

The last talk I had with Fuzzy was perhaps 5 or 6 years ago. I had stopped in at the First National Bank and went back to his office to sit and visit with him. We talked for perhaps a half an hour. Our conversation centered around hot fudge sundaes at Ma's Lunch. Then we talked about the condition of Munising, of the loss of tax base because of the Pictured Rocks National Park, of the economy of Munising, and of the depth of feelings Fuzzy had for the Nebel family. The Nebel family owned the bank and had been an old family name in Munising since the 1930's. One of the last statements I made to Fuzzy was about my desire to own a piece of property in Munising, and he said that if that ever came my way that the bank would work with me on a loan if I needed it. We parted company, old comrades, with not too much in common anymore accept for our memories of a football season many years before and a common love of our hometown.

I think Fuzzy had just retired from the First National Bank. I know he had either retired or was going to retire. He and I had talked about that event and I think he said that he and his wife were thinking of moving to Arizona. He never made it. If he did retire he didn't even get a year in before he passed away.

Apparently his passing has touched me at some level. I'm sitting here, late at night, recalling a brief friendship, a lasting memory, and wishing he had more time to enjoy his well earned respite from work. I am dealing with many of the same issues, should I retire, when, and what for? I am also sure that he and I shared the same thoughts about death, not me, not my time, I've got years left. Bullshit, Fuzzy has no more years. He leaves friends, memories, and activities that he participated in, but he also leaves a legacy that will be remembered by many for a number of years. For me, he leaves a memory of hot fudge sundaes at Mary's Grill some 48 years ago. Thanks for the memories, Fuzzy!

An Old Friend Called

It was Friday morning, 3/21/08 and I was home with our Grandson Sam sitting at the computer enjoying a cup of coffee while Sam and I whiled away some time. The phone rang and when I answered a voice on the other end said, Tom ------, Joe ----. Instant transport to a land of memory. Joe and I grew up two houses apart in Munising, MI. Joe is a little older than I, which is part of a different story, but we ended up in the same grade and are classmates from high school. More than that, we are like brothers. I was the youngest of four and for the most part my siblings were gone in my childhood years, Joe was an only child. So, we played together, not so much when were were toddlers, but perhaps around the age of 4 or 5 we came together. From there on it was one childhood experience after another.

Joe and I talked for about an hour. I cannot tell you how many memories came flooding back as we visited. Joe was in DePere, WI with his daughter Kerry who had major let surgery to repair her patella tendon and had been in a cast for two months. Joe stayed with her during her recuperation and part of her rehab, he is close to going back to Munising. He said he was thinking of me and wanted to know how I was doing after my cancer surgery. Fine, then on to the memories.

The old hill next to St. Martin's store, Bob Oas eventually built a home there, but we made the slope into a ski hill and I fell trying to jump really hard, hit my tail bone and disappeared home with a broken ski and tears in my eyes. Then the hill where the old West Ward school was, it was before Bob Gauthier build a home on the property. It was a much larger hill and Joe held the hill record at 30'. The "U" hill up above the town out by St. Martin's farm. The walk to the old golf course, Joe said it is now a forest. Perch Lake, we walked there a few times to fish, now it is the site of some gorgeous homes of Munising residents that sport some cash. The Annie River, still a good little trout stream. Chipmunk valley on the far west end where we used to dig up worms, and someone had left a "tarzan," a rope tied to a heavy limb that swung out over a deep valley. Brown's Addition and the commercial fishing fleet that used to dock there, fishing from the piers and watching the fishing tugs come in with catches of Whitefish, and Lake Trout. There still is one commercial fisherman left there, VanLandshoots, and it is still one of the families that fished out of Brown's Addition. Swimming down near the site of the current high school by the old lumber dock pilings. The Davis's, the Jaspers, the Pond's, my my, the memories were a feast for the old mind.

We ended up the conversation talking about seeing one another this coming summer and walking again those streets we prowled as youngsters. We shall visit old haunts, old ski hills, and old memories. It will be nice to be together in that setting. We can never go back, but we are now two older men who have fond memories of growing up together and look forward to spending some time together.

An Old Time Elixer

I think that I have written about this before, but it comes to mind this morning some thoughts about coffee. Years ago in Munising, MI we had an IGA store. IGA stood for Independent Grocers Association, I really know nothing of its roots although I take it to mean that each store was locally owned and joined a group of grocers who through their collective size could buy in quantities that would give them some price breaks. The IGA was on Elm Street in Munising and was actually quite small compared to the Red Owl store. Like the Red Owl it had its own coffee grinding machine. A device where patrons could purchase whole bean roast coffee and grind it to a setting they desired for their own pleasure.

I loved the smell of ground coffee. To this day when I get a whiff of the aroma of freshly ground coffee it takes me to small homes, older couples arising and brewing coffee to be sipped as they listened to radios, read a paper, or just shook off the effects of sleep and prepared to transition into the activity of day.

For some reason I associate fresh ground coffee with older folks. I do not remember any young people grinding coffee at these commercial grinders although I am sure they did. Perhaps as we grow older we learn to be a little more patient and take some time to savor the odors of the morning, or the tastes of the day. I conjure up fantasies of an older woman brewing coffee in some ancient pot, or some old home style that requires time and steeping to bring out the full flavor of the bean. I feel like there are old people who sit around their small breakfast table, a hot cup of coffee to warm their bones and small conversation over what chores, events, or scenes will play out on that day. It feels good to have these thoughts, I have a pot of fresh ground coffee brewing as I write this, and now shall end the writing to begin the day.

Lake Superior Hockey

When I was a kid living in Munising, MI Lake Superior was part of our playground. In the winter the city crews used to come around town and flood a few vacant fields in various part of the city for a skating rink. However, the big skating rink lay a quarter mile north, it was approximately 2.5 miles by 2.5 miles. Much of the time Munising Bay was covered with ice that had a snow cover on it. I lived on what was known as the West End of Munising and we had easy access to the woods on the west end and the bay to the north of us. So we kids would take a couple of shovels and our skates and head down to the bay and the ice. Shoveling an area we could get down to the ice layer, then if we chopped a hole in the ice water would come up the hole and flood the area giving us a nice rink. We would play hockey out on the bay day after day until the next snow storm then we'd be back to shoveling.

One year we encountered a cold snap with strong northwesterly winds. The wind was so strong it scoured the ice until the snow layer was gone and we were left with miles of clear ice. The "Westenders" had never seen such a thing. Down to the bay, on with the skates and we could skate anyplace we wanted to. It didn't take too long to figure out that if you got a bed sheet you could fashion your own personal sail and use the wind to propel yourself for long distances. I got a sheet and sailed from out by Brown's Addition to the city dock, that is a distance of over a mile. It was tough skating back into the wind, but the ride was worth it.

One problem I ran into at that age was weak ankles. I had hockey skates but I couldn't stand on the edges. My ankles would flop down like a drugged pigeon's wings. I actually started wearing out the leather sides of the skates from scrapping the edges on the ice. It was a problem I was never able to overcome as a young man. Of course you don't play hockey in figure skates which probably would've provided me with sufficient support for my ankles. Oh well, Gordy Howe I'm not.

So those days were in the 1950's and it was a great place to play winter sports. Nature provided us with spectacular amphitheaters. We were not limited by artificial structures, but often could ski or skate with complete abandon. What a way to grow up.