Flashback Friday and COVID19 Update

 I started scanning old pictures again last week. Which always makes me feel melancholy.

My sister Pat and I were on one of our fabulous camping trips to the UP. It was the week of July 15, because we stopped somewhere so I could buy her an ice cream cone for her birthday. Then one evening, as we were strolling along Lake Superior, she snapped this picture.

I wish I could say that she stole my camera and captured this moment, but it was staged. I told her I would look out over the lake as if I were lost in thought, and blah, blah, blah. But whether spontaneous or not, it never took either one of us any effort to look out across that huge body of water and imagine all the years of our lives floating there.

We never could have imagined that the length of her life would amount to a mere puddle.  

I never would have thought thirty-nine years ago that this picture – one of those artsy ones I snapped all the time – would remind me more of the coronavirus than of a marigold. 

A week ago, I was all worked up about having side effects from my second COVID-19 vaccine. I didn’t have any sort of reaction at all. A bit of a sore arm and a headache, which I attribute more to the lack of sleep, in anticipation of the fever, chills and body aches which never happened.

The latest stress is the vaccine clinic we are hosting at my work this Saturday. It will be all hands on deck to efficiently and safely get those 170 patients in and out. And that number of patients is just a drop in the bucket compared to the lists of people in our area who still need the vaccine. I have no idea how they will all get vaccinated. I have no idea if it will make a difference in stopping COVID. I have no idea who that person is in the water.

Seems there’s more that I don’t know than that I do. I do know that I hope you all have a good weekend. Continue to be safe. Find what makes you happy. Chris 

The Beauty in a Cloudy Day

I’ve told you about our fall vacation the middle of September, the whirlwind trip through Minnesota, Iowa and Illinois. After a day home to rest up, we took off again on the Friday of that week, for a ride up to our favorite spot. The forecast was for sunny skies and highs in the sixties. It had been an unseasonably warm week for the rest of our travels, so we jumped in the SUV with high hopes of another beautiful day. 

 Roadside Park along the Ontonagon River. The skies don’t look too promising, but all will be fine once we reach Lake Superior. 

 No matter how dreary the weather, a single daisy still looks like a bouquet to me. 

 Driving down the hill into Houghton/Hancock, the Franklin mine on the opposite hill. Coming down this hill still gives me the same thrill it always did when I was a kid.  

 Got to our beach at Calumet Waterworks Park. I was okay with the lower than expected temperatures and the clouds. 

 Even a few drops of rain wouldn’t keep us from letting Dino have his swim. Then some lightning struck. We decided it was time to head back to the SUV and up the road. 

 Jacob Falls. Our goal for the day being the Jampot just down the road.

  Once again bought way too many baked goods from the monks. But they make some good cookies and muffins. Brownies too. 

 A few of the times we stopped along Lake Superior, we could see this boat barreling along. 

  Don’t know what kind of ship it was – much smaller than the frequent freighters we see far out in the lake. But it was really booking. 

 I’ve always loved the shore of Lake Superior along this stretch of road.

Don’t know if Dino appreciated it, but he did appreciate spending the day with us. 

 One of our last stops was at Lake Medora. The ducks came quacking up to us begging for a handout. 

 Apparently, there is no hunting breed in Dino, as I had always thought. He couldn’t care less about those ducks; he just wanted to swim.   

Despite the cloudy skies, it was a beautiful day, because remember, beauty isn’t just what’s on the outside. It’s what’s on the inside.

From Lake Superior to Miller Park

November 10, 1975. I don’t have a clue what I was doing that day. I bet in looking back, not a lot of people remember, expect for the families of 29 men who lost their lives that day. I bet that for most people, the events of that day only became known through a song written a year later.

If you haven’t guessed, Sunday was the 38^th anniversary of the sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald. Now that I told you that, you can recall everything else about that fateful night on Lake Superior. But I discovered something new the other night, new for me anyway.

Do you know who the iron ore freighter was named after? Ok, besides Mr. Edmund Fitzgerald.

The man Edmund Fitzgerald had been a business and civic leader in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, for more than 50 years. He had been president of Northwestern Mutual Life Insurance Co., which had built the 720-foot ship. When it came time for the board of trustees to vote on naming the freighter, someone made sure that Mr. Fitzgerald was out of the room. They knew that he didn’t want the boat named after him, but afterwards he admitted that it was one of his proudest moments. The sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald was one of his worst moments.

He died in 1986 at the age of 90.

His son, Edmund B. Fitzgerald should be well-known among baseball fans as he was instrumental in bringing the Brewers to Milwaukee. I was quite disappointed that my husband didn’t know that, but he recovered by telling me that the Brewers had originally been the Seattle Pilots.

Edmund B. Fitzgerald passed away this August. I totally missed that. How sad when someone dies and we don’t hear about it.

I could go on. I find all these little known facts fascinating. I have another story about someone who just passed but I will wait until Thursday. In the meantime, what does the B in Ed’s name stand for?

From a freighter on Lake Superior to the current home of the Milwaukee Brewers. 

I get around, don't I?  

Get Focused

Once more Jesus put his hands on the man’s eyes. Then his eyes were opened, his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly. Mark 8:25 New International Version (NIV)

In 1980 I bought a bulky 35 mm SLR camera. Everything on it was totally manual, which meant I could let in as much or as little light as I wanted, I could set the exposure however I wanted (coz sometimes pictures look cool when they are slightly blurry) and I could focus on whatever I wanted.

In 2005 I got an inexpensive but workable digital camera, and then last year I got a little bit better digital. It has taken me a while to figure it out, but I am happy with most of my results. I still sometimes miss the old heavy SLR.

Sometimes, it takes a little work to get things in focus. It doesn’t always just happen. I was so excited to see this iron ore freighter on Lake Superior last week, and even more excited that my new camera was able to zoom out that far. But I forgot to pay attention to where the camera was focused.

Ah, I got it right on the second try.

  

When things seem blurry in our lives, when things are out of focus, we need to turn to God. Sometimes it doesn’t come naturally and sometimes we have to make adjustments, but once we focus on God, our troubles don’t seem so troubling. We know we can get through another day. 

"Go Fly a Kite"

Sunday morning, my husband, the dog and I piled into the Blazer, towing the pop-up camper, and drove to Mclain State Park in Michigan’s UP. I just love it up there, and I know I have blogged about it before so I will try to stay focused on the story at hand.

Every morning when we are up there, we drive to a little township park a few miles up the road from where we are camped so that Dino can frolic in Lake Superior and I can hunt for pretty rocks. The hubby usually is along for the ride or the walk as it turns out.

Our first morning there this year, as Dino and I were on a mission on the beach – one of us to find rocks and the other to just plain play in the water – the hubby found a discarded kite in the sand. By the time I had walked far enough up the beach to have filled my pockets so full of rocks that my thighs looked like chipmunk cheeks, he had the kite aloft and was having a great time.

This is a talent I do not possess; I cannot get a kite airborne. Hubby, though, has never had a problem flying a kite. And I will never win an argument with him by ending it with “go fly a kite” because he would gladly go outside and do it.  

Even Dino the wonder dog thinks that Daddy is talented. 

Camping, finally

Monday, July 26, 2010

I had had a migraine Saturday, my back went out on Sunday, and then I found my beloved Bam-Bam dead by the doghouse on Sunday afternoon. As we were getting ready Monday morning for our camping trip, I had a sudden premonition that those were all signs that we shouldn’t go, that something even worse would happen.

Then I remembered how much Lake Superior meant to me, how I swear its water runs right through my veins. If ever there were a place on this earth for me to feel at rest, it is Gitchee-Gumee.

As it turned out, we arrived at McLain State Park in Michigan’s UP by mid-afternoon and put the camper up without incident.

It was Dino’s first camping trip, but he again proved himself to be the Wonder Dog. He barked a few times until he got the lay of the land, but settled down as soon as he realized that this was his yard now.

Once our home away from home was set up, we headed back into town to buy the things we forgot, an extension cord and a fan. Himey was ready for the camping experience, but decided quickly that as long as we had electricity, we might as well have a fan. But we couldn’t get electricity until we got a long enough extension cord.

After dinner of hot dogs and mac-n-cheese, we took a walk around the campground. Of course, it is all beach along the Lake, so no dogs allowed. Dino didn’t feel bad about that though, instead he just pooped along the road next to someone else’s campsite. Good thing I had brought along the plastic bags.

More random exploring

August 18, 2009, Tuesday

We checked out of the Ramada Inn in Hancock, Michigan, at 8:15 this morning. While driving around earlier we had passed signs for Lake Shore Drive, so thought we would check it out this morning. The weather today is quite a change from yesterday. Monday the weather was so warm and sunny; today is overcast to the point of nearly drizzling. And cold too.

Along Lake Shore Drive, there is a charming little park, with an attached campground. On the park grounds there is this fantastic play area called chutes and ladders. Just like the old board game, you can climb up different ladders or stairways of various lengths, and then slide down a slide - a chute - of assorted sizes. It was awesome, too wet and damp to explore now, but some day we will have to come back, with a kid in tow to trial it.

I found yet another waterfall that I wanted to explore. Wyandotte Waterfalls is just adorable, but with the dry summer we have had, it was not really a waterfall at all, not even a trickle, more like a drip-drop. It is in a very cool setting though, all damp and mossy and full of rocks and fallen trees. It reminded me of something from the “Lord of the Rings”.

We took a chance on returning to Old Victoria, and there was no one else there except the volunteers. What a relief. The one gal we talked to said they offer a tour for five dollars a person, to hear all about who lived in what house and what their lifestyle was like. After having gone to a hundred, ok at least seven, other old restored villages and hearing the dialogue on them all, I didn’t need to hear it again. I just wanted to take pictures.

So we wandered around and I took lots of pictures. We still left a $5 donation in the box by the gate. The gal in the office had told us about some places to stop up the road, so we did that. We climbed to the top of the old tailings piles and had quite a view all the way to Lake Superior. We also found lots more rocks to take home.

I do feel guilty picking up rocks everywhere I go. Is it like stealing? And will these places ever run out of rocks? And the big question, what in the world makes rocks so fascinating? Himey, bless his heart, picked up this honking huge one just for me. He never fails to amaze me.

Chutes and Ladders play area in Houghton's RV Park.

Wyandotte Waterfalls

Old building at Old Victoria