Category Archives: childhood

Faster. Better. Cheaper.

Little known fact: The US military is the largest supply chain in the world.

My supply chain management education will always color the way I view things.  At times, I wish it didn’t.  In education, I like to believe that most students will find their way, eventually.  Most will find their purpose.  I feel for those who don’t, but it is a reality of life.  There are always those who remain lost, and sadly, I’ve known a few.  I can help, but I can’t be everything to everyone.

With supply chain issues, there is a solution.  There is always a solution.  We just need the resolve to follow through and make necessary changes.  We learned so many supply chain and economic lessons from the Greatest Generation and World War II, but as that generation passed away, I fear that we have lost those lessons or even ignored them completely.

Let me start at the beginning.  I am deeply proud to come from a long line of entrepreneurs.  I long idolized my dad and Grandpa Buttrick.  Both owned and ran their own companies and were self-employed, as different as their companies were and still are.  My dad developed Russell Canoe Livery around our family and our lifestyle.  He had no desire to build it beyond what it is now, even if we had the opportunity.  

Grandpa, on the other hand, loved to build.  He expanded his convenience store business into screen printing, Subway franchises, propane, hotels, and more.  He even loved to compete against himself from time to time.  As a child who loved to build, I took notice.  In having the opportunity to manage one of his convenience stores for a few years, I am grateful to have learned just why Grandpa loved the c-store business so much.  Ultimately, it helped me become a better manager at the canoe livery and a more empathetic boss.

While this cover is exactly how I remember it, it must be an updated version!
No WI-Fi in the 80s and 90s!

As a child, one of the most fascinating books I owned was The Way Things Work by David Macaulay.  I wanted to know how and why things worked.  Looking back, this helps explain why I chose supply chain.  It fit the bill.  I knew I didn’t want to study management.  I wanted to know exactly how value was added, and not just become increasingly removed from day-to-day operations that actually pay the bills.  Accounting and finance never even entered the picture.  In fact, my mom and I joke that we would starve if we had to try and make a living as accountants.  I am decent at math, but I make errors far too often, and it is not my thing.

I do have two older cousins who earned supply chain degrees from Michigan State and blazed the trail, but as my older cousin Emily tried to sell me on supply chain, it made me look at the program more critically.  Instead, my experiences at the Broad Business Student Camp (BBSC) after my junior year of high school sold me on Michigan State and supply chain management.  During that week attending BBSC, I had the opportunity to explore State’s incomparable campus, everything the Eli Broad College of Business had to offer, as well as all things supply chain.  In short, I had the opportunity to preview what my life would be like as a Michigan State business student with one of my best friends.  What was not to like?  By the time my parents dropped me off at MSU in August of 1999, I had to kick them out of my dorm room as I had already connected with student groups in the business school, and I was not going to be late for the first meeting.

Now you know why I never wavered in my pursuit of my supply chain degree, in spite of the fact that, deep down, I knew that I wanted to be a teacher as well.  As for the deeper lessons that stayed with me and kept me up at night, it all started with a business history class I took during the winter of 2000, the very heights of the dot.com bubble.  In fact, the bubble burst that consumed that spring forced me to pay attention.  My history professor, in fact, predicted the fall of the stock market (the dot.com bubble) publicly almost as soon as classes started in January.  When it finally happened in March, as a 19 year old, it left a deep impression.  However, as memorable as that experience was, this is not primarily why I remember this class 25 years later.

Instead, my professor’s description and explanation of how Detroit became the “arsenal of democracy” still sends shivers down my spine.  He made the case that the United States and the Allies would not have won World War II without Detroit.  While I knew Detroit played an important part in the war, I didn’t realize just how important.  Supposedly, when Hitler received intelligence of manufacturing totals coming out of Detroit, he didn’t believe it.  Those who had gained manufacturing experience in cities like Detroit, especially Detroit, would turn their focus to the war effort.

When you think of the manufacturing capability we had during that time, the early 20th century, it makes sense. We were able to help supply Great Britain long before we officially entered the war after Pearl Harbor.  Thanks to FDR, we switched from manufacturing consumer goods to munitions.  We went from cars and refrigerators to tanks and aircraft.  This is the question that keeps me up at night:  Would we be able to do so again if faced with such a crisis?  I don’t know.

Actually, I doubt it, as the way things are now.  Born at the end of 1980, I’ve watched my entire life as Michigan lived up to its “rust belt” image.  Most of the business professionals I graduated with in 2004, me included, had to relocate to states such as Texas and California to find jobs.  When my parents graduated from college in the late 70s, there were still good manufacturing jobs to be had right out of high school, although that would soon come to an end.  I grew up hearing of plant closures, manufacturing outsourcing, and general loss of manufacturing capability in the United States.  It is all I knew. By the time I sought to start my career, little remained.  Instead, less secure positions with multinationals outsourcing much of their labor to places like China, Mexico, and India took their place, particularly in the shadow of the first dot.com bust.

By the time I interned with IBM out in Rochester, Minnesota during the summer of 2001, not only did they not have enough for their interns to do, their full-time, permanent employees didn’t either.  Instead, they were focusing on their garage bands and updating their resumes.  In 2003, as part of a tour of a GM factory in Mexico near the border, I vividly remember seeing rows upon rows upon rows of brand new Pontiac Azteks and Buick Rendezvous awaiting shipment as our chartered bus slowly approached the plant.  Looking back, it foreshadowed Pontiacs epic downfall several years later. Tragically, Pontiac would never recover from the monstrosity that was the Pontiac Aztek.

My last semester at Michigan State in 2004 brought the Eli Broad College of Business’s first Chinese Supply Chain Symposium.  Of course, it focused on all of the wonderful benefits of outsourcing manufacturing to China.  I left wondering if I was the only one asking just how long before we were outsourcing our own jobs?  Where and when would it end?  Was I the only one seeing the connection between outsourcing and both unemployment and underemployment in the United States?

Even Russell Canoe Livery has a supply chain,
one with its own set of challenges and setbacks.

I will leave you with this summary.  We desperately need to bring manufacturing back to this country.  If you think the supply chain interruptions during the COVID 19 pandemic were bad (and I followed them closely), what would happen in the case of an even worse global crisis?  Good manufacturing jobs helped finance the growth of the middle class throughout most of the 20th century, particularly after World War II.  Why can’t we get back there?  We’ve learned so much during that time, and we have the workforce, if given a chance.  I hope I live to see it.  By the way, this doesn’t mean becoming isolationist.  It is simply expanding beyond the pharmaceutical, technology, and service industries.  Supporting local farms wouldn’t hurt either!  Cheap is good, but it is not always best in the long-run.  We’ve remained far too short-sighted and complacent for far too long.

Mom, Dad, and I – Spring 2001
Tower Guard Induction – Beaumont Tower, Michigan State University
In honor of Grandma Reid, who worked as a riveter in both Hamtramck, MI and Fort Worth, TX during the World War II era, all before the age of 20.

Creative Space

One of my biggest projects this school year – so far – is to establish a creative writing club for our high school.  I started with a vision and my previous experience of working with my teacher bestie, Dorri, to start a writing club at my previous school.  To say that I learned from that experience is an understatement.

In that club Dorri and I worked to establish at St. Michael School, we dealt with technology issues, age differences (serving young middle grade students as well as middle school students), not to mention the hazards of the COVID 19 pandemic.  It is crazy to think that we achieved anything at all.  Yet, we did in a small way, even if the larger St. Michael community didn’t always recognize it.

We may have had a small core of roughly half a dozen students, but they were truly interested.  They eagerly learned from one another.  My 7th and 8th students demonstrated patience with Dorri’s 3rd graders, many of whom were just learning how to more fully express themselves in writing, expanding their thinking along with their vocabulary.  Dorri’s 3rd graders brought enthusiasm and fresh perspectives to their older peers’ projects.

When I started at Michigan Virtual Charter Academy this past fall, I knew that I wanted to become involved in some kind of club.  While I knew that we had a well-developed esports program, I didn’t exactly know what other clubs were offered.  It turned out that while we offer an academic creative writing class, we did not have a creative writing club.  Well, I sought to change that.  So far, I have succeeded.

At the beginning of the school year, I focused on creating an online classroom full of resources I could have only dreamed of as a high school student in love with writing.  There are dozens of websites to explore, hundreds of writing prompts, inspiring quotes, book recommendations, and so much more.  Then, I watched over several weeks as my students connected and explored common interests.  They grew as writers and found the confidence to share their work and a little bit about themselves.  Students then spent much of the semester writing pieces intended for eventual publication, likely a blog.  What happened next, I did not see coming.

We may have to wait until next school year to publish anything, but not only are both the  principal and assistant principal extremely supportive, our head of school now knows about the project.  In fact, I’ve received nothing but positive feedback.  Right now, I am working on helping to ensure we keep moving ahead in the right direction.  Who knows where this will take us?  Already, I have had two new club members join in the first few weeks of this new semester.  They’ve fit in seamlessly, which is a testament to the culture my students created.  I am incredibly proud of what they’ve achieved!

Becoming Ms. Russell

I did not set out to become a teacher, I left that to my younger sister Erica.  As her older sister, I’ve never known her to want to be anything other than a teacher and a mother.  I envied the fact that she was so certain about her desired profession, not to mention her dedication to her love of children.  When we played school – and we did often – I ended up being the school librarian while she insisted on being the teacher.  Until our younger brother was born when I was age 10 and Erica age 7, we didn’t have a single pupil.  By the time he was two, Erica made our toddler brother a series of report cards, grading him on things like “listening” and “sitting still.”  But, this isn’t my sister’s story.  It is mine.

My story of pursuing a career as a secondary teacher is by no means conventional.  In fact, it is so unconventional and challenging that I would recommend it to no one.  If it weren’t for the facts that teaching is in my DNA and I am meant to be a teacher, I would have given up long, long ago.  Instead, I doubled-down when I was faced with what at the time seemed to be insurmountable obstacles.  I even went back to substitute teaching when needed while deciding what my next step would be.  I am a better person, and teacher, for it.

Every story needs to start somewhere, and mine starts with the statement that teaching is in my blood.  It truly is.  As a genealogist, as far as I can tell, the teaching tradition goes back at least five generations on my mom’s side of the family.  It likely goes back even further.  Both of Mom’s grandmothers taught, and one of her grandfathers served as principal of his daughters’ elementary school, as well as coach.   

Interestingly, the teaching careers of my great-grandmothers could not have been more different.  I knew both Grammy Bea (Beatrice Williams), who taught kindergarten and first grade for decades at the height of the baby boom, and Great (Leona Buttrick), who taught in a one-room schoolhouse and quit teaching once she married my great-grandfather Hatley.  Although these are stories for another time, their careers illustrate massive changes in public education.

Funnily enough, the teaching tradition isn’t exactly confined to mom’s side of the family.  Even though neither of my dad’s parents had the opportunity to further their education, they highly encouraged their children to do so.  Both did, and even though my dad and his sister didn’t necessarily see eye-to-eye on much of anything, I find it telling that they both married teachers.  On the Suszko side of Dad’s family, there are several special education and agricultural teachers.  In fact, my cousin Kristy, a woman with whom I attended school at all levels from kindergarten to college, now teaches dairy science at the university level.

As much as I did not want to admit it, I am a teacher.  It took me far too long to make peace with that fact.  Something inside me would not let it go.  As soon as I graduated from Michigan State in 2004 with degrees in supply chain management and Spanish, my entire world shifted.  It would not be made right again until I went back to school in 2013.

It all started during the Great Recession with a casual conversation with my ex’s mom Cindy.  We were invited to dinner as usual, and Cindy and I struck up a conversation.  She told me that she wished that she’d gone back to school to become a nurse.  All I could think at the time was that I did not want to be in my 50s and regret not pursuing an interest.  During the Christmas shopping season of 2008, I worked at Best Buy in   Saginaw.  As I lived in the South End of Bay City at the time, I drove by Saginaw Valley State University (SVSU) every day on my way to work.  Slowly, I started to wonder what would happen if I did decide to go back to school to become a teacher.  The idea excited me and fed my imagination. How could I make it happen?  How would I adjust?  Online classes, in their infancy back in 2004, intimidated me.

Eventually, I had the ability to make it happen in 2013.  I largely enjoyed my time at Saginaw Valley State University (SVSU), although I would advise commuter students to do their homework.  For example, if I had not followed up with my advisor, I would have stressed out about the math portion of the general MTTC exam necessary to even apply to the College of Education.  I didn’t necessarily doubt my ability to do higher-level math likely trigonometry and low-level calculus, but I had not remotely touched those subjects in well over a decade.  The thought terrified me. Much to my relief, my counselor informed me that I scored high enough on the ACT test I took in high school that I did not need to take the general MTTC at all.  I then questioned why I wasn’t informed earlier.  She simply stated that it likely stemmed from the fact that I was a commuter and a non-traditional student.  While I would highly recommend SVSU to traditional college students coming right from high school, I’m not so sure in other situations.

I enjoyed most of my classes and professors at both Delta College and SVSU, but I can’t say that I didn’t have any bad experiences.  In fact, one professor and class at SVSU stands out for all of the wrong reasons.  This particular professor taught a class that focused on diversity.  However, somehow, throughout the entire semester, he managed to offend nearly everyone in the class.  Horribly.  He supposedly hated coaches.  When I ran into a former classmate in a school setting years later, we naturally discussed this infamous class and professor.  This man, who happened to coach as well as teach, informed me that this professor tried to get him removed from the College of Education program, likely because he planned to coach.

Somehow, this professor appeared to have no issue with me or one of my good friends, even though he had long ago deeply offended us both.  As we paired up to complete our main teaching project for the course, things fell apart.  When it came time to “teach” our project, our professor respected my teaching time and even seemed pleased.  Then, he proceeded to continually interrupt my friend and teaching partner for her entire portion of the project.  He made it exceedingly difficult for her to even finish.  Already extraordinarily introverted, I have no idea how she made it through.  Disrespectful doesn’t even begin to cover it.  Unfortunately, she never did become a teacher, although she would have been wonderful.  Instead, she became a librarian.  To this day, I still believe that the world needs introverted teachers too.  There are too many people like this professor that discourage future teachers every step of the way before they even get started.

Stay tuned … There is much more to this story.

Not just my favorite TED Talk on education and teaching, my favorite TED Talk period.

Rita Pierson’s famous Ted Talk on Education – Well worth watching!

Welcome February!

2025 started off pretty well, but I’m just getting started.  There is so much more I wanted to accomplish, but days rush by, especially when fighting off the January “ick.”  My writing really took a nosedive and a backseat.  Fortunately, it is NOT for a lack of ideas.  In fact, it is quite the opposite.  I have too many.  I need to prioritize and mix it up.  Here are a few things to look forward to in 2025.

Gen X

I’ve been floating around this idea for months.  It gets right to the heart of my best and deepest childhood memories.  Between belonging to a fun Xennial Facebook group (NOT SFW) and discovering hysterical Gen X content creators discussing everything from the 70s-90s, I can relate.  Aside from the childhood nostalgia, they are discussing the perils of becoming the default mediators between Baby Boomers and Millennials, perimenopause (or just menopause), and the weirdness of some being the parents of grown children while others have toddlers or even infants.  There is something for everyone.

My favorites so far:

  • The “virtual” dodgeball game between some of the more well-known Gen X content creators.
  • The elaborate storylines, complete with 80s costumes, of some of the creators.  There are two in particular who created an entire world of characters just using their imaginations, along with costuming and makeup techniques.  Both are incredibly talented!

Frankly, my childhood would not have been the same without Gen X.  They were always the “cool” older kids – namely my cousins (all girls) and the teens who worked at the canoe livery every summer – all of whom introduced me to the best music, slang, and fashions of the ‘80s.  I distinctly remember wanting to replicate some of my cousins’ outfits and being so eager to grow up.

As much as I can relate to Gen X, I am definitely not strictly Gen X.  While technically Gen X ends in 1980, I was born December 18th, 1980, just two weeks away shy of 1981 and being classified a Millennial.  If anyone is on the cusp of those two generations, it is me.  As a result, I am a Xennial (1977-1983), with characteristics of both generations.

Grandma Reid @ 100

January 22nd, 2025 would have been Grandma Reid’s 100th birthday.  She always told my sister and me that she’d live to be 100 to “haunt you girls.”  Then, she’d laugh as only she could.  Gratefully, she lived a long, full life, passing away the day before her 92nd birthday in 2017.  Still, I am left with so many memories and lessons, especially now that I am well into my 40s.  It all deserves to be mentioned.

1925

1925 played a pivotal role in my family history.  Two of my grandparents were born in 1925, Grandma Reid and Grandpa Buttrick, and my second great-grandfather, A.G. Forward, started Forward Corporation, which would become the reason why my maternal grandparents eventually moved to Standish.  My parents would have likely never met otherwise.

Grandpa Buttrick @ 100

Born on April 1st, 1925, he definitely needs to be commemorated as well.  He taught me a lot, and if I hadn’t moved back to Michigan in 2005, I would not have known him nearly as well as an adult.  He, along with my dad, are the original inspirations for my decision to study business.  It has served me well!  Sometimes I think I learned just as much from them, and the companies they headed for so many years, as I did from my formal education.

Music

Not only are there dozens of songs I need to add to my mixtape, I have much to say about Oasis’s recent attempt to join the 90s nostalgia craze in concerts, not to mention the fact that Ringo, now well into his 80s, recently released a #1 album, country no less.  Also, I didn’t fully realize this until fairly recently, but I belong to a generation that closely associated music videos with the music we love.  That just doesn’t happen much anymore.  There is a reason why there are jokes stating that MTV only provided approximately 15 years of music.  We still want our MTV!

Book Reviews

Book reviews consistently get the most traffic, and I adore writing them.  I am way behind.  In fact, The Women by Kristin Hannah still haunts me, and it will continue to haunt me until I write a review.  I loved that book, and I consider it one of the best pieces of historical fiction I’ve ever read.  Then there is The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon, another great piece of historical fiction.  Of course, there are others I need to review as well.

The Supply Chain Lens

In light of all that has transpired over the last several years, I feel compelled to share what keeps me awake at night.  It all involves supply chains and our manufacturing capability.  It is far more interesting that it sounds, I promise.  Also, I plan to keep it as non-political as possible, even though I feel we have all been fooled.  Even though I did not necessarily pursue a career in supply chain management, my business education forever colored how I see the world.

As you can see, lots of great things to come!  Welcome February!

Book Review: Prairie Man by Dean Butler

Dean Butler as Almanzo Wilder
in Little House on the Priarie

This year, the TV show Little House on the Prairie celebrates 50 years since its television debut.  Oh, and does that show still have a following.  To celebrate, several events were held at various locations throughout the country, including most of the homesites of the Ingalls and Wilder families.  They even recreated several of the sets at Big Sky Movie Ranch in Simi Valley, California, where most of the series was filmed.  Infamously, the last installment of the series saw the original set of the town literally destroyed as part of the plot.  Under the terms of filming, the producers of Little House on the Prairie contractually had to return the land to its original condition.

So, where does Prairie Man by Dean Butler come in?  First, the book debuted this summer in the midst of all of the events.  Second, and most importantly, Dean Butler, who played Almanzo Wilder in the last years of the series, and Alison Arngrim, the one and only Nellie Oleson, who famously penned Confessions of a Prairie B*tch, have worked tirelessly to keep the legacy of the TV show alive.  In fact, this entire year, they decided to host a podcast dedicated to all things relating to the 50th anniversary of the Little House on the Prairie TV show.

Prairie Man stands out for a couple of reasons.  First, I may not be technically correct on this, but I believe that Dean Butler is the oldest surviving male cast member.  Several actors that played young boys on the series survive, but the grown men, including Michael Landon, Victor French, Richard Bull, and Dabs Greer, just to name a few, are long gone.  While there are several memoirs written by female cast members, including two alone written by Melissa Gilbert, Prairie Man is the only one written by a man. 

While I’ve only read Confessions of a Prairie B*tch by Alison Arngrim (you can read my review here) and Prairie Man by Dean Butler, they could not be more different.  I loved both, but I enjoyed Butler’s sense of history, not to mention his diplomatic handling of tensions between fans of the books and fans of the TV show.  He addressed all of the controversies surrounding both series well.

I learned a lot.  While I knew that Rose Wilder Lane’s “adopted” grandson, Roger Lea McBride, ended up with the television rights to the novels, I did not know the full story.  The real story is included in Prairie Man.  In the early 70s, Ed Friendly purchased the rights from McBride due to his wife’s and daughter’s love of the books.  Only when Michael Landon became involved as executive producer, taking the TV show further and further from the original books, did trouble occur.  According to Butler, Roger Lea McBride became horrified when realized what he had done.  Like Friendly, he envisioned a TV series much more faithful to the books.

The real Almanzo Wilder, subject of Farmer Boy by Laura Ingalls Wilder

Eventually, all of this grew tension between Landon and Friendly.  Landon’s vision, of course, ultimately prevailed.  It may have been for the best.  Ask yourself, how many children and adults were introduced to the books via the TV show?  Alison Arngrim even admitted that she didn’t read the books until after being cast as quite possibly the best child villain ever portrayed on television, Nellie Oleson.  Michael Landon may have taken extreme creative license, but love it or hate it, Little House on the Prairie, the television show, is still shown all over the world in syndication 50 years later.  It will not die.

The funny thing is that I used to blame Roger Lea McBride for selling the rights to the television series and Michael Landon for what it became.  I used to view the Little House series of books as a cautionary tale as to what can happen if an author’s legacy isn’t well-guarded or just ends up in the hands of attorneys.  For those who don’t know, Rose Wilder Lane never had children (she never formally adopted Lea), and thus, with her death in 1968, Laura Ingalls Wilder and Almanzo Wilder no longer had any direct descendents.  I see it differently today.  I suppose I now subscribe to the old saying “any publicity is good publicity.”

While I probably would have discovered all of the books on my own, especially after my 2nd grade teacher, Mrs. Butz, read Little House in the Big Woods to our class, I doubt any of it would have left such a lasting impression without the TV show.  Early elementary school would not have been the same without it.  I distinctly remember jumping off the bus after school, pigtails flying behind me, eager to catch the 4 PM reruns.  Funny note:  Due to the fact that I grew up on the reruns, I thought Dean Butler was significantly younger, by at least a decade, than he actually is.  His book, of course, made this clear.

Today, I am not necessarily a fan of the TV show, although I do greatly admire what Dean Butler and Alison Arngrim have done for all Little House on the Prairie fans.  I suppose I am not a typical fan.  Normally, most people are devoted fans of the books or the TV show, not necessarily both.  More than anything, I am a huge fan of the real person, the writer herself, the real Laura.  Her true story is far more fascinating than just the books.  She lived an incredibly full additional 70 years after the life she described in all of her books.  When you add in all of the drama surrounding her only daughter, Rose Wilder Lane, it justifies all of the relatively new scholarly work surrounding the Ingalls and Wilder families.  There are still so many questions left to answer.

If you are interested in the Little House series at all, whether book or TV show, Prairie Man is well worth reading.  Butler makes the case that he feels he was born to play Almanzo.  Growing up on a ranch in California, he describes in detail how his entire career has been shaped by that one role.  As he grew older, he decided to lean into it and run with it, much as Alison Arngrim has over the last few decades.  Fortunately for Little House fans, its incredible legacy is in good hands for the time being.

You can also check my review of Prairie Fires by Caroline Fraser here.

Deer Camp

Written during the pandemic as an example for a poetry project I assigned my middle school students. They needed to take a line from a favorite song and then use that line to begin a poem.

There are places I remember
Places that hold memories long forgotten
Long shadows, witnesses to the past
Smells that immediately transport me back

Back to a simpler time when we could gather freely
Children could be kids
Adults accepted responsibility
A time when freedom reigned and the republic lived

A black and white portrait here,
Kerosene lanterns afixed to the wall
Polished glass overlooking the cedar swamp
The coziness of a Franklin stove

My sister and I, in curls, smocked dressed, and bows
Polished patent leather shoes and all smiles
Helping mom and grandma prepare Thanksgiving
Waiting for hunters to return and string a buck up on the pole

Living as pioneers until nightfall, the generator roaring to life
The bustle and business of extended family
Cards, laughter, and love
Cousins, forts, and leaves

Memories long buried, decades past
Rising each fall with the smoke from burning leaves

Classic TV Endings – Cheers (1982-1993)

At times, the ending of a TV series works, and at others, it doesn’t (I’m looking at you Seinfeld!).  When Cheers aired its final episode in May 1993, I watched.  I remember Shelley Long (Diane) returning and the cast partying as it aired (infamously so), but I do not remember it being so poignant.  The final scenes with Sam and Norm, and later, Sam alone in the bar, are now among my favorite TV series endings of all time.

Growing up, I adored Cheers.  I watched it with my parents every week.  As an adult, I rewatched the series.  The characters still hold up.  It wasn’t just the main characters – Sam, Diane, Coach, Carla, Woody, and Rebecca – that drew us back every week, but an entire complimentary cast of characters capable of anything – Norm and Cliff, not to mention Frasier and Lillith.  The episode in which we met Lillith remains one of the funniest.  Throughout the rest of the series, Dr. Lilith Sternin-Crane developed into one of the funniest and quirkiest female characters on TV.  She is still one of my favorite TV characters after all these decades.

Who can forget Lilith? Enough said.

Aside from all of the laughs and hijinks throughout the series, the humanity of all of the characters (every last one deeply flawed) shined through.  Yet, the last scenes of the final episode hit me right in the gut.  It isn’t every day that a TV show can make you deeply and profoundly appreciate what you have.

It starts innocently enough.  Norm stays after everyone else heads out after welcoming Sam back to the bar after escaping marriage to Daine yet again.  He didn’t want anyone else to hear what he has to say, and he’s up for one last beer, of course.  He tells Sam that love is the true meaning of life.  He continues to state that people are always faithful to their one true love, that he’d be unable to be unfaithful to her.  When Sam asks whom that would be, Norm simply states “Think about it, Sam,” smiles, and leaves, setting up the final shots of Sam in the bar alone.

Alone in his bar, Sam slowly realizes that it is his bar that is the love of his life.  He recognizes just how much it, and all those in it, mean to him.  He even straightens Coach’s framed portrait of Geronimo before closing up.  In a clever twist, the final shot of Sam closing up and heading towards the back entrance of the bar mirrors the opening of the series in which Sam makes his way to the front of the bar as he is opening up for the day.

Nearly 30 years ago … Working with Grandma Reid at the canoe livery.

All I can say is this:  As someone who has spent her entire life watching her parents and grandparents build a family business – and as someone who will one day fully take over said business with her brother – I get it.  Boy, do I ever get it.  I can’t imagine my life without the canoe livery.  I hope that I never have to do so.  It is the people – employees (current and former) and customers – that make the business, along with the river and the land itself. I’m lucky, indeed.

I say it often, but we have the best customers.  I estimate that 99% of our customers are great.  The remaining 1% make for great stories.  We are currently winding down for the year, but when spring comes once again, I will be ready to start it all over again.

Dr. Fraiser Crane in one of the longest-running TV characters in history.
The reboot of Fraiser will soon start its second season.

Field of Dreams – James Earl Jone’s

After watching Reagan (amazing movie, by the way) on Sunday, realizing that we as a nation have argued over the exact same issues for at least 60 years, and the passing of James Earl Jones on Monday, I’m in the mood for nostalgia.  When I learned the news that he had passed away, Jones’ speech in Field of Dreams (1989) came to mind immediately.  After well over 30 years, it still holds up.  It remains one of my favorite movies, and quite possibly the ultimate baseball movie, aside from Ken Burns’ epic documentary Baseball (1994).  Enjoy!

More on baseball below:

For the Love of Baseball

Childhood Antics

July 1984 – Tawas, Michigan – Hamming it up with my Schneider and McTaggart cousins at Aunt Tara and Uncle Bill’s wedding. Thank you Aunt Amy for helping me locate this picture!

Sometimes, a picture can bring up a wide-range of emotions:  joy, sadness, nostalgia, and everything else.  Earlier this summer, I sent my aunts on a search for the picture above.  It had been on my mind for some time.  I consider it one of the definitive photos of my childhood; one that has always stood out.  First, Grandma Buttrick had it framed in one of the back bedrooms of her house for many years.  I always enjoyed coming across it during visits.  For that reason alone, the picture remains a favorite.

While I was too young to remember having the picture taken at my Aunt Tara’s wedding to Uncle Bill in July of 1984, I grew up hearing all about it.  I can’t tell you how many times I heard the story of how I, at three years old, took the instruction to smile at everyone as a flower girl walking down the aisle much too literally.  I stopped at every pew.  At the end of the ceremony, I cried and ran after my mom as she left the church in the processional as a bridesmaid.  I didn’t understand that I just needed to follow my older cousins.  My only memory from that day is a hazy notion of playing at the beach on the animal-shaped play equipment at the Tawas City park during the reception.

July 1984 – Smiling for the camera right after the ceremony …
Thank you to Aunt Tara for locating this gem.

In the picture, I see myself as a little girl full of personality and character.  There is no doubt that I was a ham like my mom, an extrovert.  When I look at this picture, I see “before.”  Before self-doubt, before losing self-confidence, before I realized that my body is, and always has been, all wrong; in other words, before kindergarten.  Prior to kindergarten, no one – not my parents, grandparents, cousins, other adults, other children, or preschool classmates – made me feel inferior in any way.  No one asked me to be something that I wasn’t, no one called me fat or ugly.  I could be myself.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved school.  I would not be a teacher today if that wasn’t the case.  I loved learning, I had some great teachers, and most of my classmates were great.  Yet, I dreaded gym and recess all throughout elementary school.  In gym, always picked last for any game, I just wanted to be good enough.  During recess, other students started picking up on just how different my body is and was.  When you hear that you are fat and ugly on a daily basis at that young of age, you start to believe it.  It becomes a part of you.

1985 – Playing @ The Cottage on Sage Lake with McTaggart and Schneider cousins.

Oddly, things improved a bit during junior high.  I cared about my grades, others didn’t.  Suddenly, I didn’t care so much about peer pressure.  I began to see it for what it was, even though I would have given anything to be what was then considered “normal.”  Keep in mind that this included the era of grunge, emo, and heroin chic.  Any “normal” adolescent felt inadequate when faced with the popular culture of the time. While I finally did come into my own in high school and college, this picture makes me wonder what I missed all those years in-between.  What if I hadn’t had to work so hard for self-confidence?  What if I could have kept that early childhood enthusiasm and creativity?  What if I hadn’t turned inward in the face of constant bullying in elementary school?  What could I have accomplished?  What if?  That is what this picture represents:  possibility. Unadultered possibility.

A Summer Full of Memories

Summer 2024 – Rifle River – Omer, Michigan

I’m always conflicted Labor Day Weekend.  On one hand, I am happy for summer and the canoe livery to be over for the time being.  Fall is my favorite season.  I’m eager to get back to the classroom.  On the other hand, I love 10 PM sunsets and the very idea of the endless summers of my childhood.  I vividly remember my dad taking my sister and me home to put us to bed while it was still light out, begging him to take the backway home (Jose Rd.), Erica and I exhausted from a full day swimming in the river.  We lived the river all summer long.  At 10, I distinctly remember walking downtown Omer during Suckerfest in early April, fixated on how unfair it was that it would be close to two months before I could swim in the Rifle again.

As of late, I watch and notice how my niece and nephew enjoy being kids growing up at the canoe livery.  Each year brings forth more long-forgotten childhood memories.  This weekend, my niece and a friend took tubes to the end of the road and floated around the entire campground back to our dock.  My friends and I did this countless times at their age.  To be 10 again without a care in the world!

Earlier this summer, I overheard kids discussing what I grew up calling “rocky.”  It is a simple game.  All one needs is two people, a tube, and a body of water.  Two kids sit across from one another on the tube and lock legs, bouncing as hard as possible to knock the other kid off into the river.  Our river version required a short walk upstream and had a natural time limit.  We would walk the short, sandy straightaway upstream leading to the dock, the object being to knock the other person off before we reached the dock.  My sister Erica, our cousin Abby, and I spent countless hours playing various versions of this game, leaving the river waterlogged with suits and hair full of sand.  I am grateful that, in spite of all that has changed in the last 30 plus years, I still live in a world where children are still allowed carefree summers.