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.

The Shot

I think the year was 1963, October the month. My high school sweetheart, Bonnie, and I traveled to Midland, MI for a long weekend with my brother Dean and his family. It was a Michigan fall, trees pretty much barren of leaves, but still a pretty time of year. Leaves on the ground, the wind brisk, and a hint of winter in the offing. We enjoyed the weekend, good conversation, good food, and even a partridge hunt.

Dean and I left the house Saturday morning after breakfast and headed out to the field. I do not know where we were, it was an area of hard woods, with patches of wetlands and marsh. Mixed shrubs and tall grass provided ample cover. We did not see much in the way of birds, but enough to keep our interest for a few hours.

We entered a lowland area that had hummocks of grass. It was not easy walking as you had to step in deep grooves along side these grass hummocks or you had to step up on the hump and footing was a little precarious. You could twist your ankle if you slipped, but it wasn't dangerous, just inconvenient.

I had moved off to one side and had gained the edge of some hardwoods where the walking was easier. Dean was still laboring through the hump backed grass area. A large hummock was in front of him and he had stepped up on it due to its size. About that time a partridge flushed in front of him. Dean brought his gun up, stepped back slightly to get a stance so the kick of the gun didn't knock him down and promptly stepped off the hummock into one of the deep ridges. He fell backwards, his gun was loosely pointed with his right hand and his left foot was coming up into the air. The shotgun discharged and Dean disappeared from sight in the tall grass. Suddenly the air was shattered with this wild cackling laughter which Dean could emit. I heard the flush, saw the movement of my brother to take a shot, saw him fall and shoot at the same time but did not see what happened.

I yelled to see if he was OK and what Dean yelled was "I got the damn thing. Can you believe that, I got it." Sure enough, falling backward, gun in one hand, about the take a serious pratfall, Dean shot the bird one handed. I'm not sure if we got anymore partridge that day, but I witnessed "The Shot."

It was a good day!

Christmas 2008

Seems a little early to include thoughts of Christmas 2008 in this blog. However it is early in the morning the day after and I'm a bit restless. I am wondering what I will do with the remaining days off I have. I always have goals of things I'd like to do but seldom get them done and end up feeling like I've wasted an opportunity. Regardless, I shall forge ahead today and hope for the best.

My lovely wife is a hard person to read. She has always expressed her feeling about things, sometimes a little too hasty in her comments. I've listened to her over these past 17 years and learned that it is kind of her way, she does love me and you couldn't ask for a more loyal person. One of the things that she always tends to hide is her enjoyment of things. Many times if you give her a gift she'll say things like you shouldn't spend so much. I don't, she and I have a very different impression of what is too much. There are times I get a little exasperated with her moodiness, however I've also learned to be quiet and wait, it will change.

Yesterday, December 25, 2008 was such a day. The day started with her being worried over her father's health, and feeling rushed because in the afternoon the "crew" would be coming for Christmas at our home and she needed to go spend some time with her Dad. When Terry is rushed she gets cranky, so that was the setting when she and I sat down with coffee and gifts to open early Christmas morning. However I tried to help her prepare the "Gumbo" for the afternoon's meal, and we kind of puttered around fixing and cleaning. Finally, when the family began to arrive Terry settled into trying to enjoy the moment. Grandson Sam gets pretty rambunctious and can be a bit of a load, however everyone pretty much takes him in stride. Tracy's kids Tim and Kim have grown so much and Tim is now out of high school. Terry's brother Barry and his wife Karen and their two children Kayla and Seth were here. A couple of fine looking kids and wonderful athletes. Seth earned all-state honors for high school football and is getting some recruiting action from area colleges. Kayla is a terrific volleyball player and is also an all-state athlete. They are also good kids.

So the house filled, presents passed and opened, and dinner served. The "Gumbo" went well, the ham was tasty, the poppers were spicy and the meal enjoyed. Terry got a new camera for Christmas and rewarded me by taking a lot of pictures. She also seemed to really enjoy her camera as she got used to it. She was decked out in a nice white top decorated with cardinals and looked full of the Christmas spirit.


I had made several power point presentations while fiddling around over the past few weeks. One of them was a memorial to Cilla our little dog that passed away on December 16. One presentation was just a little romantic ditty I did based on Ann Murray's song, "Can I Have This Dance for the Rest Of My Life." It is a series of pictures of Terry. Then finally, I put together 72 slides of previous Christmas pictures taken here at this house and had some Christmas music playing behind them. I thought the folks would enjoy the pictures of past Christmases. Well Terry insisted I play all of the shows and ended up in tears with Cilla's. Sometimes she shows me the depth of her feeling, not often, but if you look for it you can be rewarded by how much she cares. Such was the case this night. She wanted everyone to see the effort I had put into to honoring my love for her. It made me feel good that it was so appreciated, not by anyone else, that wasn't my goal, but by her. The night ended well, the dishes cleaned, the mess picked up and in bed by 9 PM. All is well in the Floria household this Christmas of 2008.

Mother's Knitting

When I was young, in high school my Mom & Dad could not afford much for gifts. My Mother was a talented lady. She would knit presents for all of the grand kids, eight of them. She also would knit for her children. The clickity-clack of the knitting needles would begin in August and mittens, scarfs, sweaters and lovely hand made items would start to accumulate. My Mother had the capability of knitting while socializing. She might carry on a conversation and all of a sudden she would grow quiet and concentrate as she came to the end of a row or some intricate knitting maneuver.

My sister Phyllis took up knitting and for a number of years when I was in high school I had the most beautiful collection of heavy cable knit sweaters, ski sweaters, and even a beautiful blue Angora sweater. All of them hand made. What a talent these kin folk had and what beautiful garments were provided. There certainly was the cost of the yarn, but the love and care that went into making those items probably wrapped the receiver in as much warmth as the sweater or mittens did. It was always appreciated, but the skill of patience of the craft was amazing.