A U.P. Fourth

One thing that mid-Michigan doesn't have that da Eastern U.P. does is the truly off-the-wall Fourth of July parade. Every parade has the fire trucks - but how often do the volunteer firefighters get to douse the crowd as they go by?

These guys gets serious about it, ya know, eh?

Ya gotta be ready if you're gonna be standing along Newberry Avenue in Newberry.

At least these guys didn't take part in da tradition. Business is good, eh?

It wasn't just the firefighters and the honey dumpers. Nope, the Newberry High School Marching (Riding on a trailer?) band played at both the Newberry and Curtis parades.

There was a definite sense that it was the time to get dressed up and let loose, eh? After all, you let the Franklin stove finally go out on the Fourth of July, so let's celebrate!

It won't hurt us to go to Curtis! Young families make the scene!

Still can't figure out if the car's done in rust or camo. Doesn't matter - same effect, eh? Add the snowplow and the roadkill, and you get a true expression of da culture youse don't get nowhere else, eh?

Another day in Paradise

After Kissy Missy and I went to Hell, we just simply had to go to Paradise.

Paradise is on the shores of Whitefish Bay, part of Lake Superior, in the eastern Upper Peninsula. Whitefish Township School is located there, as are Catholic, Lutheran, Episcopal and Methodist churches. In the winter, Paradise regularly gets more than 20 feet of snow, so it truly is a paradise for snowmobilers. Robert, Katherine, the Drummer, Kissy Missy and I noted something truly interesting: There are biker bars in both Hell and Paradise.
In Paradise, the biker bar is the Yukon. The snow caved in the roof of this log cabin a few years back, but a new roof has been raised above the log walls. There's a grate on the floor where snowmobilers can knock the snow off their boots. Behind the bar, there are Christmas lights - made of illuminated shotgun shells. The men's room contains graffiti dating back to at least 1977. There are boards missing from the floor of the hallway leading to the lady's room.
And when NASCAR came on the tube, every TV in the place was tuned to it.

We went to Paradise on the Fourth of July, and the community put on a completely awesome fireworks show. It lasted about a half-hour, launched from a pair of barges out in the bay. It was one of the best shows that I've seen in a long time, as you can see in the composite image.
But it got chilly next to the big lake - right after sunset, we could see our breath.
Makes sense that Paradise would be a lot cooler than Hell.

Father's Day

It's Father's Day, and it's the first day of summer.
It's still real quiet here. All the kids are here, and that's something unusual. It's something I really, really appreciate. But they're sleeping in. They appreciate it, and I appreciate the quiet time, too.
I was blessed with four children. I always wonder about the impact I've had on them - mostly, it's been a case of just getting out of their way and not holding them back. I've occasionally tossed some challenges their way, but mostly they've challenged themselves. My job appears to have been to write the checks and pick them up, dust them off and not even let them think about giving up.
There have been plenty of failures along the way, of course. I hope I've taught them not to focus on them. After all, the story says Thomas Edison failed 6,000 times before he got the first light bulb right - and it only improved from there.
They're all different from each other, and all different from me.
I can't take credit for how they're turning out: Matthew, the car geek who's in the parts business, Andrew, the ski bum in engineering school, Katherine, the singer who's made it to Carnegie Hall - and who will master the art of spinning a rifle in guard - and Robert, the spelling champion and drum major who just looks so natural in a tux.
This is about you guys.
I sat down at my computer this morning to put up the Web site this morning, and discovered this from Andrew:
Happy Father's Day!

Thank you for being here for me when I need it.
Thank you for teaching me right from wrong.
Thank you for helping me through the roughest times.
Thank you for pushing me to greatness in my best times.
Thank you for changing my diapers when I was a baby.
Thank you for giving me money when I need it.
Thank you for cuddling me when I was a child.
Thank you for all the hugs.
Thank you for taking care of my wounds.
Thank you for being an inspiration of what a good father should be like.
Thank you for accepting me for who I choose to be.
Thank you for a truly warped sense of humor.
Thank you for teaching me how to write properly.
Thank you for teaching me puns and word-play.
Thank you for letting me be a rebel when I needed to be.
Thank you for letting me make my own mistakes.
Thank you for letting me learn from your mistakes.
Thank you for being honest with me.
Thank you for all of your respect.

Thank you for being a truly fantastic father.

I love you
-Andrew

I felt the tears well up. Thanks, guys, for being my kids.

- Dad

Visiting Hell

The ZIP code in Hell is 48169.
Ever since I was a kid, I've thought it was hilarious that a little town in Michigan is named Hell.
When I was a Scoutmaster, I thought about organizing a 50-mile hike with a route that would start in the little Livingston County village, then wind through much of the nearby Waterloo-Pinckney Recreation Area. It probably would have been a great hike, and what other unit could have worn patches celebrating "The 50-mile Hike from Hell?"
Unfortunately, that didn't happen. I'd never been to Hell, until now.
Kissy Missy and I were returning from the Undisclosed Location, and decided to make a detour. This led to all kinds of cheap jokes, including "We went through Hell to get home!"
Hell has three businesses - the general store, the ice cream store and the bar. Interestingly, there were lots of bikers in Hell. All the businesses sell souvenirs, and yes, I bought some.
Later this year, we plan to visit Paradise. And Ishpeming. Ishpeming means "heaven" in Anishinabemowin. We'll bring back souvenirs, too.

Just in from an undisclosed location ....

A source close to the family would neither confirm nor deny that the image above is an image of the undisclosed location where Kissy Missy may or may not have undergone what might or might not have been a significant medical procedure.
The source, who asked not to be identified because the source was not authorized to speak for the family, indicated that Kissy Missy may have returned to the undisclosed location for unspecified followup care for the unconfirmed previous medical procedure.
The source indicated the results are stunning.

The water tower

I recently had the opportunity to visit downtown Ypsilanti. As I turned onto Cross Street from Depot Town, my attention was drawn to the, uh, rather distinctive structure pictured at left: the Ypsilanti Water Tower.
It was erected - excuse me - 1890 as part of the city's first water system. It served the city as its only water tower up until the middle of the last century. It is no longer in regular service.
The water tower is listed as an American Water Landmark by the American Water Works Association; a historic Civil Engineering Landmark by the Michigan Section of the American Society of Civil Engineers, and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places.
The old Ann Arbor News, in 2007, quoted Ypsilanti's mayor, Paul Schreiber, as saying, "The water tower has a historic marker. And it's a very interesting thing if you look at the stonework."
The Joliet limestone stonework is, indeed, very interesting. I read the historic marker placed next to the structure. Neither of those things were what drew me to visit the site.
What were they thinking????

Second graders at the paper

It's never too early to become media literate - and a group of second-graders from Mt. Pleasant's Vowles Elementary School got to see first-hand how their local newspaper is put together.
The group toured the Morning Sun, and staffers Tony Sapienza, Nancy Shackelford and I got to be their tour guides.
We showed them how ads come together, told them how news gets to be news, and how it all gets onto paper.

The presses weren't running, so we could stop and take a good look at the remarkable, precision machinery that puts ink on paper.

I pointed out how we can print in color, and how the web-fed offset press works.

And how, after everything's printed, folded and cut, it comes out at the end of the line, ready for inserts, packaging and distribution. I'v been around it for years, but I'm still amazed at what happens to produce The Daily Miracle.

Tomorrow's American Manager!

The townhouse abuts a city park, and a softball diamond is right outside the patio door. It's sort of like living in Wrigleyville - free entertainment on summer evenings.
This afternoon, a couple of dads had taken their boys for a pickup game. These are fun to watch.
I was watching the game when the batter, who looked like he was about 10, hit a chopper up the middle. The shortstop, who looked about 9, just kinda stood there as the ball bounced to the outfield. The batter beat out a standup double.
"It wasn't my fault! I wasn't ready!" said the shortstop. "You shouldn't have pitched 'til I was ready! It wasn't my fault!"
I think that boy has a bright future ahead of him as a manager of an old technology business. Sign that boy up for his golden parachute right now!

The leader of the band

Word came this morning - Robert has been named one of the drum majors for this fall's edition of the Mount Pleasant High School Marching Band.
It will be Robert's fourth year with the marching band. He joined in eighth grade for the "Elemental Led" Led Zeppelin show; his freshman year saw "Socially Numb," with the music of Pink Floyd; as a sophomore, the Oiler band scored its highest score in years, and earned a fourth-place finish with "The Show Must Go On," featuring the music of Queen.
This fall, the band shifts gears, planning a show based on Johann Pachelbel's "Canon in D Major" and derivative compositions.
Robert is the first junior in recent memory to be named a field commander of the Oiler Band.

Pepsi Throwback

This was an interesting experience.
I stopped at Walgreen's tonight to pick up some things, and I noticed they still had Pepsi Throwback in the cooler. I apparently am part of the target market for this product, made with actual sugar, as opposed to high-fructose corn syrup. High fructose corn syrup recently has been linked to all kinds of issues, especially since someone noticed that when the stuff replaced real sugar in processed food, we all got fat.
But I just think this "new" product tastes better. Really. I can tell. So can Andrew.
"I can taste the cola," he said, "not just sludge."
Behind me at Walgreen's was a family of three females - it looked like Grandma, Mama and daughter. The little girl was about 6 or 7.
I reached for the Pepsi Throwback, and the little girl, right behind me, also reached for one.
"No, dear, that's one of the nasty ones," Mama said. Oh, my, I thought, a food freak. Next comes the lecture on phosphoric acid, the 37.5 mg of caffeine per 12-ounce serving, the obesity challenge.
"Here, why don't you get a Mountain Dew?"
Um ... I must be missing something

Memorial Day

For the fourth straight Memorial Day, we headed downtown for the Oiler Marching Band and the Mt. Pleasant Memorial Day Parade.
Attendance was as good as previous years - and the band sounded terrific.

Spring concert bootleg

Mt. Pleasant High School's Symphonic Band and Symphonic Wind Ensemble performed their spring concerts Thursday.
There were many highlights - this is a serious concert.
Robert's a member of the Symphonic Wind Ensemble.
The show ranged from Holst's early 20th century "Mars" from "The Planets" (designated as the Martian National Anthem in "Stranger in a Strange Land") to the familiar and challenging "Toccata and Fugue in D Minor," credited to Bach and arranged for wind instruments.
Listen to the performance - and bear in mind, this is a performance by small-town high school musicians.
I said "Wow."

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The Planets
I. Mars
Gustav Holst (1874-1934)
Mt. Pleasant High School Wind Ensemble
May 21, 2009

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O Magnum Mysterium
Marten Lauridsen (b. 1943)
arr. H. Robert Reynolds
Mt. Pleasant High School Wind Ensemble
May 21, 2009

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Joy
Joseph Curiale (b. 1955)

Mt. Pleasant High School Wind Ensemble
May 21, 2009



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Children's March (Over the Hills and Far Away)
Percy Grainger (1882-1961)
Mt. Pleasant High School Wind Ensemble
May 21, 2009

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Toccata and Fugue in D Minor
J.S. Bach (1685-1750)
Arr. Erik Leidzen
Mt. Pleasant High School Wind Ensemble
May 21, 2009

Home from college

Andrew's home from college, his first year at Michigan Tech over.
He's judging it to be a success.
"Hey, I'm not on academic probation," he said.
Of course, none of us have seen much of him. As soon as he got back to town, he got his old job back and he's been working a lot. (It's amazing what knowing what you're doing, having a reputation for showing up for work, and providing good customer service will do for you, even during Depression 2.0.)
He's also been spending immense amounts of time with die Fraulein.
Between those two top priorities, it's been a case of just sort of being vaguely aware that there's another person in the house. I know there has to be, because food keeps disappearing.
Sigh.
But I think back to when I was his age, back home from my first year at Central. Everything had changed, and that's apparently the whole point of that exercise.
Hey, he's not on academic probation. Welcome home, Andrew.

How awkward!

A month or so ago, I began doing quick-hit news updates for WCFX radio. The paper's had a long-standing deal with the radio station. Putting a newspaper voice on the air helps both media, by promoting the newspaper and spicing the the "Breakfast Flakes" morning show with yet another voice.
It's been pretty successful, but at least one of Katherine's friends is a little freaked out by it.
Imagine. You're a teenager, and all of a sudden, your friend's FATHER starts showing up on your favorite radio station.
"I heard your dad on the radio," she said. "It was a little awkward."
It just messes with the whole theater-of-the-mind thing, doesn't it?

MBA plus 1

Blogger's note: Kissy Missy and I were having a quiet Sunday morning. I had just shot some portraits of the cats (look for them soon) when I noticed that it was one year ago she received her MBA from Northwood. How did I know this?
Because I'm a wonderful husband, and I remember.
Actually, I saw the images in the file with the date on them. Now, I would have sworn I had made a blog entry, but somehow, they're not there. I had images prepped, but ....
I am a bad, bad husband. I forgot. Fail!
Soooo .... belatedly, the world knows now! and

The family joins her as Kissy Missy officially becomes part of Northwood University's Class of 2008 and receives her master's degree.

With the graduate degree comes a cowl - to be worn to all formal academic events, such as commencements, henceforth.

Crossing the stage to receive the diploma.

Celebrating outside on a beautiful day in May.

And joining other members of her cohort to mark the end of the course of study - and the beginning of life with a graduate degree.

Meet Charles, our newest pet

Meet Charles, the vacuum robot.
It seems that Mother's Day was all about cleaning. The family gave Kissy Missy a car detailing job, and she decided on her own to get a Roomba.
The machine actually does a terrific job, scooting across the bare floor of the kitchen and the carpeted floors in the rest of the house like a dream. It's pulled a completely amazing amount of cat hair out of the carpet.

Charles - named that by Katherine, by the way - operates on the same level, of course, as Minden and München. They were terrified of the regular vacuum cleaner, but they're extremely curious about Charles. Sometimes too curious, it seems.

Charles senses things mainly by bumping into them. If you don't want to be bumped into, move.
If he does bump into you, he'll just change direction and clean another section of floor. He's determined, very determined.

It's the 21st Century. We have a robot, and Kissy Missy says she feels like Jane Jetson, although Charles isn't as sophisticated as Rosie.
Although Rosie might have shooed Minden out of the way, too.
Ma! He's chasing me! Make him stop!

Giving blood, giving back

Katherine gave blood for the first time today.

She's 17, old enough to donate, and took part in a blood drive at school.

She's valuable as a donor - with O+ blood, she's a "universal donor."

She was healthy - she's avoided the nasties that have hit her brother and me - and it will certainly bring good Karma.

Getting the flu

I'm pretty sure the flu has invaded the household. Fevers greater than 100, coughing, intestinal upsets, headaches, bodyaches, don't-touch-me skin.
I haven't been to see a doctor. It seems like run-of-the-mill flu, and there's not a lot can be done about that. I don't think it will wipe us out.
But I hear that we're not supposed to call it "swine flu" anymore. The health establishment has started calling it by its scientific name, H1N1, and dropped the "swine" label.
Mustn't offend the pigs ...

Cannibal, the Musical

The spring show at Mt. Pleasant High School was one of the most controversial, most over-the-top shows they've done in years.
"Cannibal! The Musical" was performed Friday and Saturday.
The story is that of Alferd Packer, the only American ever convicted of cannibalism, in Colorado in the early part of the 20th century.
The back story, according to the official Web site:
Originally a student of music, director Trey Parker (who later went on to fame and fortune as a creator of "South Park") transferred from the prestigious Berklee School of Music to Colorado University at Boulder to study film, and it was there he gave birth to his twisted brainchild "Alferd Packer: The Musical". Parker not only wrote, produced, directed and played the leading role in the film, he also wrote the songs and collaborated on the score.
The film began as a three-minute fake trailer made for an advanced film production class and, as a joke the director said he was going to make the actual film. "People kept asking 'Where's the movie?" says Parker "The response was so positive, we decided we'd do it"
Together with fellow students Matt Stone, Jason McHugh and Ian Hardin (average age 23) they formed the Avenging Conscience Inc production company and raised $75,000 from private investors, friends and family by the day they needed to start shooting. They employed fellow students as cast members and took parts in the film themselves each stepping into each others shoes behind the camera when necessary. From conception to being in the can the film took around twelve months.
When Troma picked up the film in 1996, they realized that few people outside of Colorado had ever heard of Alferd Packer, so they re-released it under the name, Cannibal! The Musical.

Mt. Pleasant High School senior Matt Boles pushed hard to put on a stage adaption of the film, and succeeded. The script had to be heavily edited and reworked to get rid of the obscenities.
The topic - "All Singing! All Dancing! All Flesh-Eating!" made it controversial, and other challenges raised a lot of skepticism.
But ultimately, the show was hilarious - for people with the right mind-set, of course.
Robert and La Madamoiselle were part of the five-piece pit band.
And Matt - the director, adapter and driving force behind the show - has been familiar to us since the days when he was part of the youth staff at Cub Scout camps 'way back around the turn of the century.
He's always been like this.

Prom 2009

It was prom weekend in Mt. Pleasant, and both Katherine and Robert went to the event.
This is no mean feat, considering it's "senior" prom, and neither of them are seniors.
Katherine was escorted by the Drummer - no problem. He's a senior.

But Robert and La Madamoiselle both are sophomores. That took some finagling.
Two of their senior friends in the band, Aaron and Mariah, arranged to be their official escorts.
Photos, dinner, dancing, bowling and breakfast - but no one stayed up to see the sun come up.

26 Hours in New York: Reality

More than 30 years ago, I dated a woman who once casually said, "Oh, whenever I go to New York, I lose touch with reality." I believed it then, and I believe it now. The reality of the city is hard to grasp. Even standing on the 102nd floor observation platform of the Empire State Building at midnight, with the awesomeness of New York spread out below, it's impossible to begin to grasp.


The place is a concentration of dreams. Both physicists and social scientists talk about "critical masses" necessary to make certain things happen. The sheer concentration of people - one of the densest concentrations on the planet - produces many critical masses.

It is a place of sheer contradictions. The streets are mean and tough, but the music is beautiful and the art is unrivaled. The most regulated, socialist city in the country is the heart of capitalism for the world. The most Democratic city has a Republican mayor. The most crowded city is the place where people can feel most alone.

And it works its magic. The choir could have sung anywhere - in Atlanta or Los Angeles or Detroit. The Temple Theater in Saginaw has about as many seats as Carnegie Hall. The sound in the Mt. Pleasant High School Auditorium is almost as good.
But none of those places strike the same spark in the soul as the words "Carnegie Hall" and all that goes with that.
Reality is standing on that busy street in Astoria, Queens, at 7:30 on Monday morning, waiting for the M-60 bus to LaGuardia as the newspaper hawkers peddle the Daily News and A.M. New York, and everyone is cold and tired and not ready for Monday. Reality is noticing that the industrial parts of New York are just as battered as anywhere in Detroit. Reality is the screaming bag lady, the loose electrical plugs in the midtown hotel, the brokers, the geeks and the junkies.
Reality is the sheer extremes, the sheer range of everything, the exhilaration, the fatigue, the sense of living life to its fullest.
I fell asleep, overwhelmed, before the plane left the runway.

26 Hours in New York: The show

The sun was setting as we walked from the Columbus Circle station back to 57th Street, the hotel and Carnegie Hall.
It was almost showtime.

The show was to begin at 8:30 p.m. We were directed to the third tier - the balcony.


Talent, practice, hard work, rehearsal, dedication. The Mt. Pleasant Concert Choir members were easy to spot among the other choirs that comprised this year's National Youth Choir, even from the balcony, by the confidence with which they moved. And when the Youth Choir sang, and my daughter was in it, I felt the tears.

It was real.

26 Hours in New York: Crazy

I didn't notice the bag lady in the back of the subway car until I was already seated. That's when the, uh, distinctive scent wafted past.
She didn't want company. The madwoman made that clear, with cursing and yelling and twitching and general unhappiness.
There were about 10 of us in the car. As one, we calmly went out the door - we were still at the station - and moved to the next car.
Not a word was said.