Liquid Gold

Years ago Tom Dolaskie and I spent a lot of time fishing, hunting and just being outdoors together. One particular event has stayed with me for all these years. I can't recall the year, probably the early 70's the Michigan DNR stocked Clear Lake with Grayling and Rainbow trout. Clear Lake is a beautiful lake that was glaciated and is therefore very deep. It is clear water and supports a nice fishery.

Tom and I had fished Clear Lake several times over the years and had a measure of success. It was at this lake that I had scared myself while night fishing for Rainbow when I reached my hand out over the mirror like lake to check my bait and startled myself when a reflection of my arm appeared to come out from under the boat reaching toward me. I've told that story someplace.

Tom and I had noticed on a previous trip that just dusk brought hungry fish to the surface feeding on insects. The surface of the lake had come alive with circles where fish sucked in an insect and turn tail back to the depths leaving a tell tale swirl on the surface. The lake was just covered with feeding fish. We had no lures with us, and neither of us were fly fishermen. But as we discussed later on we thought perhaps if we slowly trolled a surface lure we might happen into a fish. So this day I had brought my tackle box containing some surface lures. I chose a Rapala that looked a lot like a small minnow. as we set out from shore I eased the lure in the water and Tom had his electric trolling motor that we used on the small inland lakes of Michigan.

We began a slow but steady pace, not too fast because if a Rapala loses it flutter it tends to surface of just plow across the surface losing all appearance of a minnow. We moved silently enjoying the peace of the lake and the sun setting in the west. As the sun sank low to the horizon the surface of the lake took on the surreal red, orange and violet color that reflecting water can create. It was captivating, both Tom and I just sat and watched the magnificent color unfold about us. Then it happened. A strike! We were both looking back when a large 19 inch rainbow took the lure on the surface. The water exploded with all the colors flung to the sides. Droplets arched over the water from the force of the strike and made for a small rain effect. The fish dove with its prize only to be slammed back to the surface when I set the hook.

The rest was barely describable. The fish fought on the surface, time and again he broke water flailing about and made the colors even more vivid and amazing. It was fighting in liquid gold. I almost did not want the fight to give up. But a pole, a strong line, and patience over came the fish and he came to the net. We took him and appreciated the amazing visual effect the fight had created. It was a fish we talked about for a long time and an experience that is as vivid in my mind today as then those long years ago.

Tough background

In the face of all of the hard luck stories you read about and where someone drags themselves out of economic tough times I have decided my family also has its history. I do not know a lot of facts because my Grandmother and Dad were of that generation where you just accepted your lot in life and played the best hand you could with the cards you were dealt.

My Grandmother Nettie, or Toot as we knew her, was born in 1876. She married a man named Burton Floria, my grandfather. Burt was a millwright by trade and they moved from the Remus, MI area to Manistique in the Upper Peninsula. Burt worked in the logging industry and Toot kept house. My Father was born in Manistique, MI and as a small baby the family moved to Grand Marais, MI probably around 1903. My Dad's brothers were born in Grand Marais, I believe. Burt built a home for his family which still stands to this day. My Dad told me there are boards in that home that are 36" wide, cut from the White Pine that dominated the forests at that time.

Burt apparently left the family sometime around 1909 - 10. I don't know the year, but I believe they spent a few years in Grand Marais before moving to Munising in 1913. Times were tough. There was no government program to aid destitute families and I've got to believe that mine was one of them. One of the stories Dad told me concerned an incident where he picked some small tin pails of strawberries along the lake shore and was headed home with them. A neighbor lady stopped him and asked him how much he wanted for the berries, he said a quarter. She gave him a quarter. He promptly went to a local store and bought a big container of oats which is what they ate much of the week for food.

Dad also described that Toot would bake six loaves of bread on Thursdays and the weekend. So obviously bread was a staple in their diet. In addition Toot would take the kids in the summer out berry picking. Toot and another lady would rent a team driven by a man and they would go out into the surrounding forests to pick raspberries, and other types of berries as they came into season. These she canned, made jam and sold, or some how derived some income from. In addition she took in laundry for the teachers that were located in Grand Marais to bring some money into the home.

I assume as with many families at the time the home she lived in was paid for. So at least they had a roof over their heads and that couldn't be taken from her. Other than that from things my Dad said over the years life was tough. There were times that Dad would recall some event from his childhood and just shake his head and mutter that it was tough, real tough and he had a great love and respect for his mother.

My Father always talked about the love and humor that Toot had and the antics of his brothers. Having seen my father and his brothers interact over the years I can tell there was a lot of good old fun had in there younger years. Dad always talked about his brother Earl and Cecil as being the source of the humor, but listening to them talk about early days I have a feeling the "Old Man" was right in the thick of things.

My Dad always kept a connection with Grand Marais through the years. When he ran his insurance business in Munising he had customers in Grand Marais and knew many of the people in the community. After he moved to Milwaukee he, his brothers, and my brother Dean and I made a trek back to Grand Marais to find the old homestead and to visit the community. I can tell you from participating in the trip that it was one raucous time and hardly a time when by without laughter.

So, the roots of my immediate past were founded in tough times. I have a feeling that were those circumstances recreated today Toot and her boys would've been far below the poverty level and eligible for government subsistence. Whether they would've taken assistance is another question, but they had no choice at the time. Perhaps that is where some of the metal was forged that made our family what it is today.

I Owe Lou a Million Dollars

I was thinking of times past today. I began to think about my brother Dean and his brother-in-law Louis Mikulich. Lou or Louie as we knew him was one of a number of children. Lou lived in Traunik, MI his hometown. The Mikulich family was well known in that area as his mother and father had owned and operated a general store and post office there for many years. Louie came from a talented family. My sister-in-law, Gladys or Miki as we knew her was an athlete of some prominence in high school. Several brothers played tennis in college and old man Mikulich had built an asphalt tennis court at his home for his children to play on.

Lou went to college and had a degree in some field like Botany or Biology. I'm not sure what the degree was in. He never worked in the field. When Mr. & Mrs. Mikulich passed away Lou took over the store and kept the property at Joe's Lake in good shape so family members could return to the U.P. for vacations and family gatherings. Lou eventually became post master and ran the store keeping an eye on the family holdings.

Lou was a gentle man, soft spoken and refined. He was well educated and stay current on the events of the day. He was aware and knew of the issues of the region, the state and the country. Louie smoked a pipe and was one of those people whose appearance a pipe enhanced. Lou loved to laugh and had a good sense of humor, however the image he projected was one of serious contemplation.

Whenever my brother was at Joe's Lake Lou paid a visit nightly to sit and discuss the events of the world, enjoy my brother Dean's company, or many times to go night fishing for bass on Joe's Lake. Joe's Lake was a beautiful body of water. About 2/3 of it was bounded by either state or Cleveland Cliffs land. There were cabins, but not too many. The lake was clean, sandy bottom with some silting as there was no flow through the lake. It harbored huge small mouth bass. Dean and Lou caught many bass and always released them, the fun was in the catching, not the eating.

Lou and Dean had agreed they would keep a bass weighing over 5 1/2 pounds and have it mounted to hang in the log cabin. Back in the depression Mr. Mikulich, senior, had a builder pay off a debt owed to his store by building a log cabin on a piece of property Mr. Mikulich had acquired on Joe's Lake. It was a simple cabin, however it was spectacular. It was made of huge northern pine logs, had a huge field stone fireplace, two very small bedrooms and sat on a hill over looking the lake. It was simply magnificent. This is where my brother spent his summers, and the land Lou watched over with benevolent grace.

I've been to that cabin many times. I stayed the night on occasion. I went night fishing with Lou and Dean and enjoyed the thrill of small mouth bass striking surface lures and startling the hell out of the fishermen. I've enjoyed the company of two intelligent, articulate men who enjoyed each others company as much as anyone could. They played golf in Gladstone many times and ate dinner together often. They loved one another deeply.

One time when I was very young I spent a week in Midland, MI at Dean's home. The weekend I was to return to Munising Lou showed up and offered to drive me back to the U.P. The plan was he would drive me to Traunik, the Mikulich home, and then I would call my Dad and he and mom would drive out to pick me up. My folks had given me some some money to pay my way, but Lou wouldn't hear of it. In fact, he ended up driving into Munising and taking me right to my home. I expressed my appreciation and told him that I owed him a Million Dollars. He chuckled and lit his pipe. He said that one day he would collect and drove back to Traunik.

Lou was a solitary figure much of the time and I could not help but wonder about the quality of his life. Lou seemed to enjoy good conversation, discussion of issues, and seemed to care deeply about the country and the environment. He was alone most of the time for Lou was a bachelor.

Through the years we would enjoy getting together when my brother was up north. We would enjoy a fire in the fireplace in that magnificent cabin and I would listen as Dean and Lou discussed and debated the issues surrounding the times. Over the years I stopped in several times at the store in Traunik to pay my respects and noticed Lou grow older, getting gray and a little stooped. He still smoked his pipe and was so gracious when you would meet. Wanted to know how you were, what you were doing, how the family was, my mother and father. He was an easy man to love.

I would remind him from time to time about the Million Dollars. He had forgotten. When I would retell the story he would chuckle and say that some day he might collect. Lou may have forgotten, but I never have. I will always remember that kind, gentle, pipe smoking man who loved life, loved my brother, and was a very good man. Lou got to know my father and mother-in-law as they were postmasters too. They would see each other at meetings held in various parts of the Upper Peninsula and talk about Alger County. It was through my in=laws that I learned of Lou's passing from cancer.

My brother died from a stroke in 1982, and I lost touch with Lou as the common meeting point no longer existed. However, I was sorry to hear of his passing, and wished I had been more outgoing or concerned and made contact with Lou. He was a very special man.

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.

My Dad's Nickname

My father passed away when he was 94 years old. He was born in 1901 in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and grew up in a small town called Grand Marais. Throughout his life he and his two brothers loved "spoonerisms." A dictionary defines spoonerisms as "A transposition of sounds of two or more words." My warts are numb is translated as my nuts are warm. A question asked when trekking in snow covered woods up north.

I picked up my dad's enjoyment of spoonerisms although I am not as adept at it as he was.

Through the years one of my uncles on my father's side would refer to my father as "Shinner." My dad would respond as though he knew what the name meant, but nothing was ever said how my dad came by this unusual moniker.

In 1980 my father, his two brothers, my brother Dean and I took a trip back to their boyhood village of Grand Marais. As we toured the village, looked at the old high school still functioning after all these years and even found the old home built by my Grandfather in Grand Marais the three brothers started spinning yarns. At one point my uncle Earl finally told how my dad got the name "Shinner."

It seemed when they were youngsters, probably about 1908 - 10 they would walk to the elementary school some mile from their home. This is remote area, Grand Marais is a picturesque little village sitting on the shore of Lake Superior and was once one of the main outposts of the great logging days. Woods abound and you can imagine the route to school as some two rut road traversing through wooded country. Just about every day my Dad had to step back into the woods and take a dump, bowel movement, the old #2. One of things you have to know is my Dad's name was Vernon or Vern. So when my dad rejoined the small band of children going on toward schools someone would say, "Vernie shit." Referring to the act.

Eventually through the application of spoonerisms this phrase became "Shinner Vert." You can then see that simply dropping the vert became my dad's nickname that old boyhood friends still remembered and used as he grew older.

Kids had fun regardless of the year, the times, or the conditions. So here's to old Shinner.