so the world may know

As you probably know, my day-to-day life came to a devasting end when those two county sheriff’s department cars pulled into my yard at 11:53 last Friday night.

It was almost déjà vu.  

How many times over the years had I lain awake in bed at night, wondering where she was, when she’d be home, how she’d get home? How many times in recent years would I check her location on Google Maps before going to bed at night and again at 2 am, only to find she was still at the bar? How many times did I wait for the phone to ring or the doorbell to ring?

It’s a long story. Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.

Quite a few years ago, my daughter got two OWIs within a year or two. But she kept drinking. At the end of January 2023, she hit bottom and sobered up, went to AA several times a week, and was working the program. Then her dog died from blasto, and the need to drink came rushing back.

Two weeks ago, she got her third OWI. Instead of it waking her up, committing herself to stop drinking and getting her act together, she kept spiraling out of control. 

Last Friday night, the demon in her head, which was pushing her to drink and telling her that her life might as well be over, won. But only for that one instant.

I feel in my heart – no, I know in my heart and soul because Jesus has told me this. That in that final instant, Jesus slayed those demons that had been wearing her down and announced to Satan that he was done. And Jesus took her gently in His arms and carried her to heaven. Why He couldn’t have just carried her back to me, I do not know.

The only other thing that I do know is that my baby girl, with a heart for caring for others, whose love was immeasurable, whose spirit was a little wild, whose smile was more beautiful than sunrise over Lake Superior. I know that the devil was after her for half of her life because he knew her amazing qualities, and that scared him, so he just kept assaulting her. But in the end, Satan never wins.   

This is how I face each day now: Satan never wins. Jesus always does, even if it’s not in our time or in our way.  

My baby girl is at peace now, and someday we’ll be together again. In the meantime, I want the world to know that.

Was This The Last Ride of Summer?

Is anyone else saying, “where has summer gone?” It is, essentially, over, or it sure feels like that.

Hubby and I took another drive up to the UP two weeks ago, just a ride for the day. We were actually on a food run, as stupid as that sounds.

First stop, though, was Military Hills Roadside Park, ten miles north of Bruce Crossing (and a mere four miles north of my favorite waterfalls (I’ll go back there some day.)). That wayside is a pretty standard potty break for us. 

Jacob Falls, which we only stopped at because it is right next to our first food stop.

Ahh, our beloved Jampot Bakery, run by the monks.

The line was long. 

So I left Hubby to stand in it while I walked our Hannah.

She did make a few friends though.

Picnic lunch at one of our favorite spots. The park in Eagle Harbor. Always clean and usually quiet. On a nice day everyone is down at the beach two blocks away.  

I discovered a new place in a book on the UP that I bought Hubby for Christmas. In the village of Kearsage there is a stone ship that was built in honor of the Civil War ship, the USS Kearsage. I’ve driven by it and taken pictures of it dozens of times. But never knew that there had been two others built in the area. This one is just north of Calumet. The other one, somewhere near Hancock, has crumbled into oblivion.  

Then, though we had mixed feelings, we had to stop at Dino’s Beach. Okay, it is really the Calumet Waterworks Park, but for us it will forever be Dino’s Beach. Our previous faithful dog loved that beach, loved chasing sticks into the water, loved to swim in Lake Superior until he was exhausted. 

Hannah, the little loaf that she is, has yet to find a body of water to dip her toes in. Some day, sweet baby.

Last stop. Pasties at Pasty Corner in Iron River. We vote them the best pasties we’ve had. Worth the trip.

Acknowledging a Reference

 Here is the story of how I know all these camping stories. 

Chapter 10 - 

The Camping Log

I imagine that by now, you are completely amazed by my incredible memory. Sure, I've mentioned the home movies recording our every early trip. And many of our adventures have been shared at every family get-together.

But at this point, I should give credit to my most faithful source. The Camping Log. It is a bound grey composition book, with the name "C. Gudgeon" dimly penned in the upper right-hand corner of the cover. I have always guessed that C. Gudgeon purchased the book, and when he found it unnecessary, Dad snapped it up, hating to see anything go to waste. Or perhaps Dad bought it at the second-hand store for a nickel. I never asked him.

Within these six-inch-by-six-inch pages, Dad and sometimes Mom recorded the names of the campgrounds where we stayed, the dates, the prices, and sometimes comments on the campgrounds. Their descriptions were very detailed, usually something like "Noisy" or "Crowded".

Prices ranged from free at some roadside and city parks to $4.00 a night at the ultra-modern KOAs (Kampgrounds of America, the ones with the big A-frame offices). Some of those KOAs even had inground, cement swimming pools, but we never did much more than dangle our feet in them, if that. Mom was sure we would drown if we went in up past our knees.

In the mid-1970s, I took over most of the recording duties, putting in columns to write the date, mileage, city, campground, cost, and comments. Since we went both east and west several times, we occasionally stayed at the same campground.

One such place is Peaceful Valley Campground in LeSueur, Minnesota. We camped there on June 11, 1969, and again on June 20, 1971. (That's where the picture above was taken.) The campground is still in operation, and from the images on its website, it looks much the same. I've driven by it frequently after those years of camping with Mom and Dad because of Phyllis, who lives in the area.

Phyllis was Pat's good friend from college. We shared dating horror stories after I divorced and Phyllis was not yet married. I quickly became her good friend, also. When she finally did marry, it was to a man who owned a farm in LeSueur, Minnesota.

Then there was Powell State Park (aka Sandy Beach). This park was located forty or fifty miles north of where we lived, and anytime we were just out for a ride or on our way home from a trip, Dad would manage to pull through to check it out. We never stayed there when I was with. It wasn't until Pat and I were out of the house that Mom and Dad camped there on a few weekend getaways.

Another place we often visited was the Big Eau Plaine in Mosinee, Wisconsin. We frequently met Mom's cousin Doris and her husband Richard there since they lived around Green Lake, and Mosinee was half in between.

It was a nice enough county park, but the ride there always struck fear into my heart. The road crossed the Eau Plaine River over a long one-lane bridge. I was always afraid another vehicle would start across coming towards us as we were crossing and that they would run us off the bridge and into the river.

Not only was it one lane for automobile traffic, but the bridge also was shared by a railroad track. The biggest fear of my entire life was that halfway across the bridge, a train would start over from the opposite direction. I don't know why I was so terrified. The train would be on its track and not in our traffic lane, but I was certain the bridge would collapse from the weight of both our camper and the train. Or, again, somehow run us off the bridge and into the water. I think I was genuinely terrified of drowning as a child.

Besides camping at the Eau Plaine campground, we often crossed the bridge to go to King's Campers on the other side. Even though Dad was pleased with our pickup camper, he started to become fascinated with fifth-wheel trailers, and every chance he got, he would stop at a camper dealer to look at them. We thought walking through each larger and fancier RV was always fun, too, sitting on the sofa and imagining we lived there.

Of course, it didn't take much for my sister and me to think that something was fun.

I pulled the picture above from the Peaceful Valley website and the picture below is the uncropped picture of us. What do you think? Same place? 

Summer Trip Day #5 – Almost Home

Marinette County is the third largest county in Wisconsin and is known as the waterfall capital of the state. You would think that since it is so close to where I live and you know how I love my waterfalls that I would have been to them all. But no, and I don’t know why.

We visited a few of them on a drive a couple years ago. But on the way home from our couple of ill-fated days in the UP last month, when I saw the sign for Twelve-Foot Falls County Park, I turned the car down that road without much thought to getting home.

Google Maps said that it was a thirteen-minute, five-mile drive from the highway to the park. On that winding, dirt road it sure felt longer than that. 

I left Hubby, with his broken bones from that fall two days before, at the bench overlooking Twelve-Foot Falls and took off to explore with the dog.

It was only a short walk along a tree-root strewn path to get to Eight-Foot Falls.

Tried to get a selfie with Hannah,

But the Loaf had other ideas.

Anyway, we had lunch in the car, then I started driving back to Eighteen-Foot Falls.

Left Hubby in the car there, while Hannah and I plunged down the trail. This one was a little more challenging than the last one, but we did fine.

But I also didn’t want to mess around trying to get another selfie with her and go over the edge.

Two hours and a long stupid argument and we were home safe and sound. Another vacation in the Travel Log. 

Up North in the UP

Since I was just at Tahquamenon Falls in July, I thought I'd jump ahead on my journey journal and share my first trip there in 1975. 

Journal of our Journeys

Chapter 16 - Michigan's UP  

Many weekend mornings throughout my childhood, we woke up early, and Mom packed us and a picnic lunch into the car. With Dad at the wheel, we'd drive to Copper Falls, Potato Falls, Saxon Harbor, and Ashland in Wisconsin. Just over the border in Michigan, we'd go to Ironwood with its statue of the world's tallest Indian, Black River Harbor, the Porcupine Mountains, and the Lake of the Clouds. I am indeed blessed to have been raised within a three-hour drive of all of these wonderful places.

We had camped at some of these places on weekends before, but in 1975, we took a little more time and went a little further north. All the way north, as a matter of fact, to the tip of the peninsula.

The first night, however, was spent at McLain State Park just outside of Hancock, Michigan. I don't know what it is about this state park, but it has always held a fascination for me. I think it's the amazing sunrises and breathtaking sunsets that you can view from the beach or from your campsite if you're lucky enough to get a spot on the lake. Even campsites that are not on Lake Superior (the sites Mom always picked) have a view of the lake through the trees. And late in the evening, when all is still, you can hear the water lapping at the shore.

A couple who Mom and Dad knew from church set up their trailer at McLain for the entire summer, so it was nice to stop in and visit them when we camped there. Mrs. Kleinfeldt even took her organ camping with her – a real, though small organ, not one of the keyboards of the late twentieth century. She would play hymns on it on Sunday mornings for the rest of the campers.

From McLain State Park, it is just a hop, skip, and jump to another State Park, Fort Wilkins. Fort Wilkins is a restored 19th-century military fort. Settlers in the area were afraid that trouble with the local Indians might arise, so they wanted a military presence nearby. As it turned out, there was no trouble with any Native Americans, and the base was only in operation for a few years. The buildings, having been allowed to decay over the years, have been painstakingly restored and tell a fascinating story of a pioneer life where winters were frigid and the snow could reach the tops of roofs.

Somewhere along the highway, along Lake Superior, there was a small gift shop on a bluff above the water. The proprietor sold pieces of driftwood with paintings of birds on them, rocks with paintings of birds on them, and framed paintings of birds, along with lots of polished stones from along the shore.

The building had a small tower. Up two flights of stairs, there was a little windowed room with fantastic views of the lake. Occasionally, an iron ore freighter could be seen slowly moving along the horizon. Only five months later, one of those freighters, the Edmond Fitzgerald, along with its 29-man crew, would succumb to the will of the Great Lake during a November storm.

Further inland and to the east is another state park, which hosts one of the largest waterfalls in the eastern United States. The campground at Tahquamenon Falls is as nice as any of the state parks in the UP; they all have modern amenities, such as flush toilets, hot showers, and electrical hookups. However, instead, we stayed at a small, private campground that we rated an "ugh" in the camping log.

We had a reason, though, for not staying at the state park. We left the camper at Soo Junction, just north of the burg of Newberry, and rode the Toonerville Trolley through the tranquil woods and swamps to the Tahquamenon River. The small train rocked and rattled along its narrow track for an hour or so.

Then, we boarded a riverboat, which took us within walking distance of the waterfalls. It was an interesting trip, unconventional in some ways. Still, we got to see a lot of the countryside, and the scenery was fantastic. But then, it always is in the UP of Michigan.  

Over the years, I would return to all of those places, and the magic never got old. But, unfortunately, the Toonerville Trolley and Riverboat Tour closed in the fall of 2024, after 96 seasons in operation. It's a shame I never got to take my husband and our kids on this excursion.

(The pictures are of on the river boat that trip. You would think I would have pictures of the waterfalls, but I couldn't find any.)

Peter and John

 

Since the first of June, I’ve been sharing verses here on Sundays from the book of Acts. And just now, it dawned on me that I should back up that train.

The full name of this book of the Bible is the Book of the Acts of the Disciples. I’ve been writing mostly about what Paul did during this time, but there were others preaching with him and in other places without him.

You’ve heard of the disciples Peter and John? Here’s one of their stories, from Acts chapter 3, verses 1 through 16, from the Good News Translation.

One day Peter and John went to the Temple, and there at the Beautiful Gate, was a man who had been lame all his life. Every day he was carried to the gate to beg for money from the people who were going into the Temple. When he saw Peter and John going in, he begged them to give him something.

They looked straight at him, and Peter said, “Look at us!” So he looked at them, expecting to get something from them. But Peter said to him, “I have no money at all, but I give you what I have: in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth I order you to get up and walk!”

Then he took him by his right hand and helped him up. At once the man's feet and ankles became strong; he jumped up, stood on his feet, and started walking around. Then he went into the Temple with them, walking and jumping and praising God. The people there saw him walking and praising God, and when they recognized him as the beggar who had sat at the Beautiful Gate, they were all surprised and amazed at what had happened to him.

          As the man held on to Peter and John, the people were amazed and ran to them. When Peter saw the people, he said to them, “Fellow Israelites, why are you surprised at this, and why do you stare at us? Do you think that it was by means of our own power or godliness that we made this man walk? The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the God of our ancestors, has given divine glory to his Servant Jesus. But you handed him over to the authorities, and you rejected him in Pilate's presence, even after Pilate had decided to set him free. He was holy and good, but you rejected him, and instead you asked Pilate to do you the favor of turning loose a murderer. You killed the one who leads to life, but God raised him from death—and we are witnesses to this. It was the power of his name that gave strength to this lame man. What you see and know was done by faith in his name; it was faith in Jesus that has made him well, as you can all see.”

 Peter had more to say, but then he and John were stopped by some Jewish leaders.

          Peter and John were still speaking to the people when some priests, the officer in charge of the Temple guards, and some Sadducees arrived. They were annoyed because the two apostles were teaching the people that Jesus had risen from death, which proved that the dead will rise to life. So they arrested them and put them in jail until the next day, since it was already late. (Acts 4, verses 1 through 3, Good News Translation)

All of the disciples were arrested at various times for sharing their faith in Jesus Christ. All of them except for John were killed for their actions.

Our world is getting more and more crazy every day. I wonder how long before Christians in this country start to be persecuted. I wonder how many of us would defend our beliefs if faced with death. God will grant us the strength; we only need to turn our lives over to Him and ask for His help.

(This picture above was taken at Green Lake Christian Conference Center when I was there for the Writers Conference in 2011. I'm sure it's nothing like the gate where John and Peter met the lame man, but it still is a beautiful gate. )

Summer Trip, Day #4 – Finally, Another Good Day

             Friday morning, two weeks ago, we left our Airbnb in Newberry, Michigan, at 7:25 am, eastern time (which is 6:25 in the morning back home). Don’t know why we got up and got moving so early, but we just looked at each other and said, “we might as well leave.” Hubby was still not in too much pain following his fall with multiple injuries two days before.

            Our big plan for the drive home was to stop at Kitch-iti-kipi (more on that later), but we had to drive through Manistique to get there. About half-way through the town, we drove past this old water tower, and I was like, “I gotta stop!” as I nearly slammed on the brakes. (One of many reasons why Hubby usually drives, but I took the wheel since his fall.)            

           The grounds included a period log cabin and museum.            

            But on to the “big show”.       

            Kitch-iti-kipi or the “Big Spring” is in Palms Book State Park. It is Michigan’s largest freshwater spring, 200-feet across and 40-foot deep.          

            Visitors ride an observation raft, powered by a rope pulled by whichever strong rider volunteers to show off their skills, across the pond. The scenery around the pool was beautiful that morning, but the scene under the water was fascinating and impossible to describe.

            Looking through the opening in the middle of our barge.

                            

            Fishes – they tell me they are trout – swimming past where the spring water bubbles up through the sand.

            I’ve been wanting to visit for several years. Hubby had just heard about it from some friends just the week before we went. Definitely worth the side trip there. 

Summer Trip Day #3 – A Mediocre Day

            You may recall that two weeks ago, while on vacation in the UP, Hubby took a tumble and ended up in the ER. I thought we should end our vacation then, but we decided that we could sit around the Airbnb as well as we could sit around at home.

            So, Thursday morning, after I made pancakes for breakfast, Hubby convinced me to take a ride with the dog for a couple hours while he relaxed alone.

            I drove up to Grand Marais, a cute little town along Lake Superior. On a sunny day it would have been an intriguing place to explore, but alas, the clouds, which were in the sky when I left the house, opened up and set down the showers.

Hannah and I still walked around a little bit. Had to get a picture in front of the Pickle Barrell House Museum, which was unfortunately closed that day.

Next we headed over to Sable Falls. Had the weather been better, I might have tried the hike down and back up, but I just wasn’t feeling it.

On the way back to the Airbnb, I ran across this little rest area. Not sure if they plan on fixing up this place or not, but I thought it was cool.

We got back to the house and had something to eat for lunch. Then I convinced Hubby to take a short ride with me. He was feeling pretty good, and I told him we would take it easy. Also, the weather had become more acceptable.

In the tiny tourist town of Germfask is Northland Outfitters and Campground along the Manistique River. A walk past the campsites and cabins takes you to Benny the Beard Fischer, who is a wooden troll created by artist Thomas Dambo in 2023.

Very unique.

We drove back to the house about half an hour later and settled in for the night. Not quite the day I had planned, but it was an okay day anyway.