A Radio Table

My mother and father were married in 1924, I believe. It isn't that important, but suffice it to say it was long ago. Those were interesting times, radio had first come out some years earlier and while a popular new medium for society you had to have electricity.

My Dad had a fascination with wood working. It would've been nice through the years if he could've had a home with a shop and puttered away at that hobby. Regardless, in 1926 Dad went to a woodworking shop class held in the evenings for adults. The teacher was the high school shop teacher, Mr. Henry Nelson. Turns out that in seventh and eighth grade some thirty years later Mr. Nelson was my shop teacher.

In 1926 the social events that occupied a Friday or Saturday evening was listening to the radio. Many couple gathered in homes, listened to the radio, danced, sang along, drank whiskey and beer and partied. My parents were no different. One of the activities that occupied peoples' time was developing a log to record various radio stations call signs on. According to my father it was an oft discussed topic where someone would tell of picking up a Pittsburgh, PA station, or and Indianapolis station, or Louisville, KY station. Much time was spent perfecting the tuning, listening to new frequencies and trying to pick up the call sign and location of the broadcasting station.

Dad decided to build a radio table in the manual arts classes offered at night. I have that table. It is beautiful, he turned the four legs on a lathe, the front and side pieces are mortised into the legs, the top is solid wood and has a decorative groove cut round the top. It has a center draw to hold the log book and writing instrument. It is beautifully finished although it suffered some water damage to the top some years ago that needs to be restored. On the bottom of the piece is my Dad's name, Vernon A. Floria, and the date in 1926 that he made the table. It is really a very nice piece of furniture.

Right now the radio table supports the sewing machine and is serving our needs in that way. It is very sturdy, shows no sign of weakening in the joints and I still like to look at it and think that 81 years ago my father made this piece of furniture.

Oh yes, the function. It looks like a desk, however in those days some radios were operated by a wet cell dry cell electrical arrangement. Where one would think drawers would be there is a solid front. That's because on the back side there are two large compartments. One compartment held the wet cell, the other the dry cell, and wires then ran to the radio from behind. The radio sat on top of the table, the one drawer held the log document and writing instrument and you were set for a Saturday evening's entertainment.

I'm proud of my father's skill, I am pleased that I have this heirloom. It connects me to a fine man who raised a fine family, and did the best he could for the 94 years he was allowed to be on the old earth.

Recent Memory

This little essay is about a recent memory, just made within the last thirty days. My wife Terry and I traveled to my home of Munising for the Fourth of July. Munising is now a small town of maybe 3500 sitting on the shore of Lake Superior. The people are brave souls who will not be bothered by the fact that a whim could close the paper mill and the town would lose it's major employer. Fact is, I don't believe the mill is the major industry in Munising anymore, I think it is tourism.

Munising has long held a Fourth of July parade, festival and homecoming for as many years as I've walked this earth and hopefully will many years after I am gone. This particular week in July was memorable for many reasons. First, Terry came with me. It is a long trip, almost 900 miles and has to be done in two days. Terry is diabetic and sitting during travel plays havoc with her blood glucose level. My wife worked hard at trying to control her glucose level, taking blood samples almost every two hours and adjusting her insulin input from her pump. Still her sugar rose almost to 400 and bounced around between 190 and 390. It was tough on her because she doesn't feel well when her glucose level is high. We made it, and once at my sister's home in Munising she got her glucose level in control.

This allowed us to enjoy looking around, a nice Pasty dinner, and walks about the neighborhood. On the Fourth itself we brought lawn chairs, sat along the parade route on Onota St. and enjoyed a parade as only Munising can put on. The first color guard after the four law enforcement cars with their sirens screaming were the Vietnam Vets. A small number, but a band of brothers that meet in and around the county to provide camaraderie and support. Don't forget, the guys coming back from Vietnam were received like a bunch of bums instead of heroes. An awful lot of those guys still carry psychological wounds that may never heal. I stood and with my hand over my heart had tears in my eyes. They tried damn it, they tried.

The parade was its usual entertaining obnoxious event that pleases all and leaves us all with our varied impressions of the quality of the event. I like it.

My daughters came and what made it so special was they came because I was there and they wanted to spend some time with their old man. God Bless'em! Jenny was sick with a cold, but you would not have known it, she did nap the afternoon of the Fourth and her loving sister took Marissa off her hands so she could get some rest. I am blessed with two daughters that truly love each other, and like being with one and other.

Kristi and I went down town to the fabled water fight put on by the local volunteer fire department. These guys stand about fifty feet apart and blast each other with water hoses coming from the pumper. Then the last part of the fight is to hose down the crowd. A lot of people show up to watch the event in bathing suits, everyone knows what is going to happen. What I get a kick out of is people who run into long lost friends or acquaintances stand in the enveloping water shower talking as if nothing were going on yet they are getting dripping wet. I don't know what draws me to the event, but I get a kick out of it.

As Terry and I settled into bed that night I closed my eyes and was serenaded by the whump, thump of the fireworks down on the bay. They echo through the hills surrounding the town and provide a fitting end to a nostalgic day.

Thursday the kids were in from Grandma's about 2:30 PM and we packed up a picnic basket and were off to Miner's Beach. Miner's Beach is a beach somewhat isolated, hidden by Miner's Castle along the beginning of the Pictured Rocks it doesn't get a lot of traffic. Yet it is a sugar sand beach as fine as any beach in the world. Lake Superior has washed the shore for thousands of years grinding the limestone into a fine sand and packing it firm. Erosion is not much of a problem for this beach. It was a gorgeous day, low 80's. If there was a breeze it was from the north so the black flies and mosquitoes were laid low. Terry or I didn't even put on any mosquito dope.

I brought a bathing suit and went swimming in the LAKE! It was cold, yet it is one of the most refreshing events I have ever participated in. Jenny, Marissa, and Kristi all waded a little bit. Terry stuck her toe in the lake and pronounced in unfit for swimming, too cold. I swam for about half and hour. I found some rocks worn smooth by the wave action and tossed back into the water by those persons trying to skip a stone across the surface of the water. Some of those stone now grace our coffee table in a wooden bowl made by Terry when she was in high school and had to take a manual arts class.

The picnic area just above the beach offered a prime view of the lake and beach. It consisted of a picnic table, a grill and a superb view looking through the pines. I love Lake Superior, I felt baptized by my swim, if any lake could be; this is certainly God's lake. We spent the afternoon roasting old fashioned hot dogs over the open fire, eating chips, and drinking tea, soda, beer and NA beer. We were quiet at times looking at the scenery and taking in the exquisite view of the beach and the Pictured Rocks. We picked up and left about 7:30, weary from the sun and air, full of food that probably isn't good for you but you wouldn't trade for a tenderloin because it was eaten in the fresh air of Lake Superior. Memories were made, memories were spoken of, and stories told. It was a great day.

A Friday night grilled fresh Whitefish dinner prepared by Carol and Chap made the send off on Saturday bittersweet. It was good to be going home, but the weather had been excellent, the company outstanding and the togetherness strong enough to make one want more. It is a memory I shall dwell on over the winter, and talk about with Terry and my kids, and I am sure it will always bring a feeling of well being and love to mind.

The last door Terry and I shut on our trip was a stop a Seguin's Cheese in Marinette, WI. It has been a haunt of mine since it opened 40 years ago. I have bought many pairs of moccasins at their outlet and many pounds of cheese curds and string cheese. Right next door was a state highway rest area. Years ago when my daughters were little girls my first wife and I had stopped with them to take a break, enjoy the cheese and crackers we'd purchased at Seguin's and begin our trip back to Racine, WI. The rest area then had a hill and at the bottom a little covered area with benches and a old fashioned water pump. The kids always liked pumping water from the pump and climbing the small hill. I took two pictures there of those girls laughing, the sun shining on the ground and their eyes sparkling with fun that to this day I can recall in vivid detail. The rest area has been modified, but the remnants of the hill remain and the little covered shelter is still there with the benches and a concrete patch over where the pump was located. Terry and I sat there, I thought of those days when daughters were young. Now I am growing old and was blessed to have time with those wonderful children again this summer. There is and ache in the heart, but it isn't bad, and I will carry that picture of my two delightful children, full of fun and innocence running down a hill near a water pump until the day I pass from this earth.

As Terry and I pulled away beginning our terrible, long trip back to Arkansas I pulled the door shut on that vacation, what we were going to undertake now was not part of the enjoyment of the week. Nothing bad can intrude on that fine time my beloved wife Terry, Kristi, Jenny and grandaughter Marissa had just spent together.