My new life in a small town

 

I now reside in the town of Newberry. It is located the Upper Peninsula of Michigan with a population estimated at about 1368 after its last census. That makes me 1369.

The only traffic light is about 3 miles from the village limits and there are no stop signs on Main Street. The clock at the bank has been precisely one hour slow since I moved to the area in December but everything and everyone else seems to be getting along at their own pace just fine.

On the north side of town there is a hospital and on the south end of town there is a prison. This way, no matter which direction my life turns, I will be taken care of.

There is also a railroad less than 100 yards from my house. The tracks are old and crooked and the trains have to crawl through the neighborhood before reaching the Newberry rail yard. So far, the sound has been soothing. It is a very different kind of quiet in the village as opposed to where I came from living on the lake.

I’ve always known that life moves at a different pace up here. This week I was part of that pace when I had an issue with my Jeep. It will take the dealership a week and a half before they can look at it. It took a day and a half to get a tow just a half mile down the road.

Luckily, I can walk to the grocery store without wearing too much rubber off my shoes.

Tiger Jack had a rough first night at our new place. I’ve noticed signs of dementia over the last couple months and he appears to be exhibiting signs of “Sundowner’s Syndrome” (exacerbated dementia, nervous pacing etc.) at night. I am trying to regulate it with a sleep aid for him and it has gotten better each day. Making sure my dogs have a smooth transition is my top priority.

The jury is still out on this move. It is probably too soon to say whether I made the right choice or not but each day is getting better. It must.

My cell phone still isn’t operable and it appears I have lost my contacts and photos and a whole slew of little things have made my move less than stellar.

So far, the people I have come across in town seem happy and pleasant. I have met the couple next door who are very friendly and they love my dogs. An “across the street” neighbor has either waved at me twice or flipped me off as they pulled out around the same time I was walking the dogs. I will assume the better.

I’ve enjoyed the late afternoon rumble of the freight train inching its way along the tracks on its way out of town and if I had a working cell phone and knew more people in town, I would seriously consider jumping the train before I am too old to do that sort of thing.

Meanwhile, on Tuesday night’s walk I observed that the clock at the bank is no longer working. But I’ll bet you a nickel that nobody around here is going to make a fuss.

Between the Lakes, part 38

                                     

 

Life Between the Lakes, part 38

Two weeks ago the town of Newberry lost a great friend to the community, Fred Dunkeld. He was a business man who spent 48 years committed to the restoration and operation of the Tahqualand Theatre in Newberry. His remarkable photography decorated the real estate office and captured his love for the outdoors.

Fred started his life in Southern Africa, initially in Swaziland moving to Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) as a toddler where he completed his schooling. It was in Rhodesia that his love for nature developed which lead to expertise in capturing it on film through his photography. He moved to the United States in 1955 and later earned his pilot's license. In the mid 1960's, Fred landed in the Upper Peninsula and stayed forever.

Watching a movie at the Tahqualand Theater was always a unique experience. Fred was dedicated to the restoration of the theater for the 48 years he owned it. He’d sell the tickets and then head up to the projection booth to run the movie.

While running a picture, about halfway through, Fred would stop the projector, throw on the house lights and then stick his head out of the projection box and yell “Inn-terr-mission!” This allowed patrons to take a bathroom break and purchase more movie snacks at the snack bar, served by Fred.

In a small town like Newberry, the words on the marquee now say it all.

But sometimes saying it all is an understatement.

Life between the lakes, part 33, special edition.

 

Life between the lakes, part 32, special edition.

This picture was taken from the grassy bluff, at the bend down the road.

The ice that remains on Lake Superior looks like a giant, bobbing puzzle that no one on earth could ever put back together.

Looking down from the bluff, I can relate to the feeling of brokenness, as one of my closest friends is entering hospice care.

If Lake Superior was a heart, this would be mine right now.

Kevin Collard is one of the wittiest and most creative people I know. He has accepted his terminal diagnosis and is taking his life in stride. Just yesterday he posted:

“So the doctor says you have weeks to live, then Saturday they steal an hour of it? I can’t catch a break.”

Kevin has been like the Babylon Bee before it existed. His clean, adult friendly political humor has been his subtle trademark over the years. His mother used to say this about Kevin’s humor: “You’re not smart funny or cute.” The thing is, he loved and respected his mother and proved her wrong all the time. 

I agree with her on only one point. He is NOT cute, not since like the 1976 or 77 Collard family album at least.

Kevin worked as a radio producer at WJR and other stations working with and producing shows for David Newman, Mitch Albom, Frank Beckman, Paul W. Smith, Ken Calvert, Foster Braun and many other classic WJR on air personalities as well as spending many years in Christian radio.

From my personal recent, “Best of Kevin

Kevin Collard

“Hospital observations: nothings better than a cold, fresh breeze on the backside of your hospital gown...”

“Hospital observations: it’s weird that the term "discharge" can have a positive meaning...”

“Punxsutawney Phil says move to Phoenix...”

Kevin will quickly dismiss any accolades given or implied about his success because in his eyes, all the glory belongs to God.

He has accepted that the end is near and does not want fanfare as he prepares to leave the world. He is standing up to the blow that fate has struck upon him and is loved and cherished by his family.

And still poked at by his friends.

Kevin admits he has always been a little chunky and that is the reason why he stopped wearing Speedos. This inoperable cancer is finally giving him the crash weight loss he has wanted for the last 20 years.

“Dang, bro, the timing for my massive weight loss is off.”

“I just gave my Speedos to Goodwill because they wouldn’t let me sell them on Ebay. Goodwill gave them back."

In his work he has seen some interesting parts of the world. He has met most of his Detroit sports heroes. And as a music enthusiast he has met or interviewed all of the “who’s who” of Christian bands and artists over the last 30 years.

During a rough patch of my life he took me to see Gordon Lightfoot at Meadowbrook and bought me a steak dinner along the way. Kevin is one of three people who have been successful at talking me down from the ledge when I needed it. His encouragement has always had a way of getting me going again.

With this recent diagnosis, Kevin never had a chance to put up what most people call “a courageous fight,” because by the time the cancer was discovered it was too advanced for a transplant or chemo.

As I write, I have my crack staff of illustrators working on what will be the ultimate caricature of him as the new face of courage.

I feel lost and it sucks. I don’t know what I am supposed to learn from this other than what I already know; which is that each day is a gift.

And it is a gift knowing that Kevin has been given the knowledge of God’s saving grace.

I’m not ready for this Kevin.

But because of you I will take more chances. I will make an effort to be a better person. I will tell beautiful women how I feel about them; and who knows? LOL

I will take better care of myself. (probably)

I will tell people I love them more than I do now. (that’s easy)

I

I will work harder and better on everything I attempt.

I will finish what I started; (eventually.)

I will not wear Speedos in public.

I will not wear Speedos at home.

I will not wear Speedos, or eat old Doritos

Because Chic-fil-et delivers through Door Dash, sorry I couldn’t keep the rhyme going Bro.

I will succeed at things I never thought possible and remember your encouragement.

I will try to be freaking brave.

I will not care what anyone thinks, within reason of course.

I will remember how you love sunsets and Stryper.

I will swing and I will miss.

I will reread many of the emails we’ve sent to each other and laugh my ass off when I scroll back on facebook over the last 10 years.

I will continue to treasure our friendship.

And I will carry the best part of it with me after you’re gone.

But one thing I can’t do right now is hold back the tears as I prepare to say goodbye.

Life between the lakes, part 26

                        

 

 

Life between the Lakes, part 26

I’ve had a lifelong fascination with radio, especially AM radio. Currently, in Deer Park, I am perfectly situated to tune into stations from across America. But on clear nights, I search for signals from faraway places with strange sounding names.

Sometimes I have to work the antenna to get them through the static while sometimes WSM out of Nashville sounds like it is broadcasting from down the road.

The signals fade in and out as the atmospheric conditions change and I often get three different weather reports from three different places all within a short period of time. (I find it amusing.) The other night I got three different hockey games and one of them came skipping across Lake Superior from Canada.

As a kid, I remember being with my cabin family and how Mary Lee became so excited when she and my sister were able to tune in WLS out of Chicago. Back in the seventies, they played pop music, much like CKLW or Keener 13 (WKNR) in Detroit. But originally the call letters of the station (WLS) was short for World’s Largest Store.

 

You're welcome. Now you are on your way to being a font of useless knowledge like I am.

WLS has a different format now but the reach of that 50,000 watt blowtorch is still impressive. It’s amazing to me how remembering old radio stations unlocks a flood of memories.

One summer, cousin Jack was going to be interviewed on National Public Radio about his book and his mom (Auntie Jean) wanted to hear him. 

 

I rigged up a Rube Goldberg style antenna in the shed at the cabin hoping to bring her sons voice to her at the cabin. It consisted of a boom box, with foil on the antenna which was carefully wrapped with a hanger, which was clamped to an eight foot piece of metal that I had wrapped in a bicycle chain for more connectivity and wedged in the rafters of the shed. 

 

Whether everything I made actually worked or not was impossible to scientifically explain, but I was able to snag the FM signal for NPR from Minnesota and Marquette. We’d listen to one and it would fade out so I’d adjust the radio and we’d listen to the other. 

 

The stations were in different time zones so it got confusing and the same went for hearing the different weather reports. Bouncing back and forth between them we never did get to hear the broadcast we were hoping to hear, but enjoying the pot of coffee and cinnamon rolls that morning is something I will never forget.

 

The UP is an amazing place for picking up radio frequencies. I have a portable Radio Shack emergency walkie-talkie that I plug in from time to time in my Jeep. And while nobody seems to hear me when I broadcast for a radio check, I can hear people from as far away as Texas.

 

Needa’s recovery has been coming along better than I expected. A fierce wind nearly blew us over on our afternoon walk, but it has subsided.

Right now, there is absolute silence outside.

 

This is one of the reasons I am here.

 

The other reason is because I cannot think of another place in Michigan that provides as much year round beauty as Deer Park.

The moon is parked above the lake and is obscured by clouds. I just listened to the end of another hockey game. The station broadcasting it abruptly went back to playing tunes from the 30’s and 40’s; music I love almost as much as I love rock and roll.

The Upper Peninsula shoots.

And scores.

Every time.