Graham's at Topinabee

Believe it or not there is a Village in Michigan called Topinabee. It is just outside of Indian River. Over 50 years ago when I traveled with my Mom & Dad down to my brother's home in Midland, MI we used to stop at this small restaurant called Graham's at Topinabee. It was a small family restaurant and we usually were there close to lunch time. The first time we stopped my Mother induced me into trying a cold chicken breast sandwich. It was wonderful, with slices of chicken breast, mayonnaise, lettuce on a nice white bread. I believe it came with chips, and I had a pop. For some reason it stuck in my head and I associate it with traveling to Midland, being with my Mom & Dad and visiting these small communities in somewhat out of the way places. It is perhaps what got me in the habit of looking for local "joints" to have a meal in. Usually they are nice, family run, and good folks trying to make a living without "working for the man." Graham's was special and I remember it fondly as a place that has warm memories of my folks and I traveling.

The Little Engine that Could

Back in the mid-50's I used to spend quite a bit of time riding my bicycle out to Grand Island landing. This site was located at the narrows of the West Channel that allowed Lake Superior to come into Munising Bay between the mainland and Grand Island. The landing was a place where a barge was kept that took loggers over to the island in the summer to log timber. It also had a dock for people who lived on the island to moor when they ran errands or just visited the mainland. It was a great place to fish for the famous Lake Superior Yellow Perch. I fished there a lot.

One day while fishing from the barge pier I could hear this motor running at a very high rate of speed. I couldn't imagine what it was, but I'd been around boats quite a bit and new it sounded like and outboard rev'd up to its highest limit. I also saw just north of me in the channel what appeared to be a 24' + cabin cruiser with fishing outriggers down. It appeared to be tolling in the channel probably hoping to land a Lake Trout or two. The noise came from this fairly large boat. As the boat swung by me I saw false transom suspended off the back of the boat. Attached to that transom was a Mighty Mite engine just going for all it was worth pushing that big boat. The Mighty Mite was an engine used for trolling on inland lakes and was rated at only 1 1/2 to 2 horsepower. It could run at 4000 rpm, but make a noise like a runaway Sunbeam egg beater. I couldn't help but laugh at the spectacle of this very large boat being pushed slowly up and down the channel by this crazed motor. It still makes me chuckle to this day as I recall the scene.

Some people will try anything.

A Love Story

My Uncle Cecil was a true character. Smart, quick witted, and friendly were his trade marks. He married a lady named Lucille Buckley or "Buck" as we knew her. Cec worked for the paper mill in my home town and he and Buck were living in an apartment on Elm Ave. in downtown. In the early 50's Cec and Buck left town and moved to Florida where they lived until Buck's passing in the late 70's. Cec worked at an airbase and retired from that government job. While Buck was still alive my father began traveling to Florida to visit Cec and they had a time. After Aunt Buck passed Cec began coming to Racine and eventually made his way up to our hometown to renew old friendships and look over the land that he loved.

It turns out that Cec had another love. There was a woman there who he had known from the 5o's. They had an affair and Buck found out about it. Buck told Cec they had to move or she would seek a divorce and that would kill Toot, Cec's mother, my grandmother. Whether it would've killed Toot or not is another question, Toot herself was a divorcee. Cec did not want to offend his precious mother so off they went to Florida. Cec never returned to Munsing until about 30 years later. To my knowledge he never corresponded with anyone in Munising and had broken all contact.

When Cec returned he finally sold his condo in Tampa and moved back to Munising. It wasn't too long before Cec remarried to Marilyn his old flame. Marilyn had married after Cec left Munsing and had several children. Her husband left her and she was a single woman when Cec returned some 30 years later. They reconnected and married. Cec lived for several more years passing away in the early 90's. His final years were marked by heart problems, but he and Marilyn had a good life together as short as it was. I saw Marilyn last summer and she hugged me and started to cry that she missed Cec very much. They didn't get much time together, but it was quality.

My sister Carol dislikes Marilyn because of the previous affair. Carol has some rigid ideas of right and wrong and feels like the affair was wrong. I agree, but it happened. I can't fault Marilyn, or Cec after all I am the last to judge that situation as it happened to me. But I find the reconnection touching and I don't mind Marilyn. I don't have much to do with her, but I live many miles away and I did not see Cec much when he returned to the Midwest as I moved to Arkansas in the late 80's. It is a broken love story, one that I find no fault with. I am glad that Cec had some happiness and companionship in his final years. It must be tough to be alone and old. I hope I don't find out.

Harlequin Romance Books Rule

Recently on Facebook I made friends with Yvette Rousseau. She was a niece by marriage, although I still consider her a niece even though her Aunt and I are no longer married. That's not what this is about anyway. In the 70's & 80's we (our family) vacationed each summer in Northern Michigan at Dana Lake. It was the cabin of my wife's parents. It was a neat place, no resorts nearby, no neighbors to speak of, but plenty of fresh air, sunshine, and woods to walk in.

On a number of occasions we were treated to visits by my sister-in-law Kathy and her children Yvette, Yvonne and Josette. Yvette and Yvonne were conceived in France. Yvette and Yvonne were my oldest daughter's age, and Josette and my daughter Jenny were about the same age. So my kids had ready made pals.

As my oldest daughter, Kristi, entered those pre-teen years when a girls thoughts begin to think of romance Harlequin Romance books entered the scene. She devoured them. I have no idea how many she had but it seemed like hundreds. The favorite pastime of Kristi, Yvette and Yvonne when they were together at Dana was to read novels. From time to time I would sneak up on them and grab one of the books and holding high in the air I would proceed to read aloud the reverent passages. "Lance looked at Sophie with that deep soulful look of undying love. The wind blew softly through the pines, and made Sophie's hair swirl like a cloud about her rich full lips." This shit really meant something. Anyway, the girls would jump all over me trying to get the book back and I would hold it high our of reach. At first it was quite a scene and the girls would be embarrassed to have these deep thoughts blurted out, especially by their Dad/Uncle.

As with many things I over did it one time and reduced my daughter to tears of frustration. But for a while it was fun and the shrieking and laughter carried across the lake I am sure. Probably into the well turned ears of Sophie who turned her heart shaped faced and listened with those lush red, full lips pursed in concern.

Whenever I see Kristi, Yvette and Yvonne we end up talking about those times. They aren't nearly as funny now as they were then, but the bond was made and their Uncle/Dad was a scoundrel, a cad of the first measure. I miss those days.

Snow storm in Arkansas 2/28/09

A month ago we got hit with a very vicious ice storm. The damage to trees and the electric grid in a wide area of the MidSouth was horrendous. We usually get some snow in Arkansas, not much but enough to brighten my spirits when it occurs. This time we got nailed, the forecast said we should expect 1 - 2 inches of accumulation, perhaps a dusting in some areas. Instead we got a good old fashion Yankee snow storm. I've heard reports that we received 9 to 11 inches. It is hard for me to measure snow fall depth because it varies so much depending on where you measure it. If you measure it on flat ground, the accuracy is not reliable because wind can move snow so easily. If you measure it in the woods you have drifting and hummocks. So I have to take the weather reports as accurate. Regardless I have attached two videos I shot. One is at the beginning of the snow storm on Saturday 2/28/09 in the afternoon. The second is from Sunday morning, 3/1/09 at sunrise.

Enjoy, I did

A Squirrel Comes Calling

Terry was sitting at her make up vanity overlooking the side yard one morning. We knew we had a squirrel living in the house again. You could hear it moving at times and scratching. It is isolated from the living area, but is up under the eaves in a inaccessible part of a small attic we have. It was a cold day but sunny. Obviously the squirrel decided to come out and sun itself. Terry looked down as she heard a little movement and there it lay, spread out on the window sill catching some rays. It could flatten it's body to reduce exposure from below and increase the area being warmed by the sun. It was a lazy day and it dozed off and on for some time. I got a camera and snapped several pictures. How long it was on the window sill I don't know, I gave up and went back to doing whatever I was doing. It was just an neat scene.

We are remarkable beings

My daughter Jenny posted a brief article about her daughters' weekend morning routine. Accompanying the article are pictures. In one, Marissa the youngest is sitting at an old school desk enjoying her morning breakfast of cereal while watching cartoons. In the other, Lindsey, the oldest, is playing on a computer with a game designed for children that is loosely modeled on Worlds of War.

I believe the desk is from their Grandma Dolaskie's elementary school in VanMeer, MI. I do not exactly remember, Jenny's mother and I may have purchased those desks years ago when the school was being dismantled. Or, her Grandmother may have purchased them for the grandchildren. I do not recall. I also believe there were two purchased, one for my oldest daughter Kristi and one for Jenny. Regardless the desk in question is still put to good use and perhaps one day will be Marissa's and perhaps one of her children will sit at that desk eating cereal and enjoying what ever will be the entertainment of the day.

As for the memories. I remember Jenny sitting at that desk, not just for Saturday morning cartoons, but playing school, drawing, or just doodling. It was not a central piece of her life, but it was used and enjoyed. That is what should be done with antiques. Using them provides us with a link or a path to our history and roots. We do not know if that desk was one sat at by her Grandma some eighty years ago, but it was from a small country school in a small village in a remote part of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Today it resides in the large city of Minneapolis, yet it speaks of a time when things were tough and days were spent learning our ABC's at small desks in small schools taught by teachers willing to devote the time to learning. These are our roots, there were no government programs to support us, there was no TV to entertain us, there were no good roads to take us places, in many cases there was no electricity or phone service. I did not grow up in that era, but my mother and dad did.

I think it is those links that help ground us and keep things in perspective. We are not owed a good life, we have the earn it by learning, by working, and by being diligent in our efforts to take care of ourselves. To take the easy way is to go down the direction we now find ourselves. Mired in a shrinking economy, to much focus on materials goods, and consumption of resources life may be changing in a way we never wanted for our children. They may grow up having less than their parents. Perhaps if everyone sat at a small desk from a remote region of the country watching Saturday morning caroons we wouldn't get so carried away with bling.