Category Archives: grandparents

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.

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!

Camp

Camp Russell – Thanksgiving 1982

Ah.  Camp!  Such a loaded small word.  First and foremost, there is camping with family and friends.  Even though my parents owned and operated two campgrounds and a canoe livery, I didn’t grow up camping much in the traditional sense.  Even if we didn’t camp much, the overnight canoe trips we took with Dad (Mom was one and done!) were legendary.  I think about the planning that went into our trips and how we broke the “rules” and threw a tube in with our gear – Erica and I taking turns tubing for a bit; Dad pretending to leave me in the dust when it was my turn, waiting for me around the next bend.  Mrs. Taylor would be waiting for us at Cedar Springs with ice cream cones.

Over the years, I attended the National Turner Syndrome Camp, memorized Bible verses at church camp, spent endless hours playing with cousins at deer camp(s) (there were deer camps on each side of my family), helped run 4-H day camps for elementary students, and ended up with my picture in the paper participating in a local Vacation Bible School day camp.  I also attended Camp Oak Hills as a Brownie, my first time away from home aside from spending the night at my grandparents’ house, and the Broad Business Student Camp (BBSC) at Michigan State, which led to my decision to attend the Eli Broad College of Business (hence the name) at Michigan State University to study supply chain management.  Quite simply, much of my life as a child and young adult – indeed, some of my best memories – involved camp in some way, shape, or form.  I would not be the same person without it.

Each August, Grandma and Grandpa Buttrick would take us grandkids to Kenton in the Upper Peninsula (almost to Watersmeet) for a week, the site of a hunting camp passed down on Grandpa’s side for generations, the land originally homesteaded by my Forward ancestors.  We spent the week visiting waterfalls, riding the hills around camp, swimming in and hiking around Tippy Lake, traveling into the tiny village of Kenton itself to visit the grocery store/library/post office, and holding target practice with Grandpa using a pellet gun.  At night, there were hot games of Uno and Spoons around the living room table.  As a kid, there is nothing better than sharing a bunk room with your siblings and cousins!

So many camp memories stand out.  As a child attending church camp at Bayshore Camp in Michigan’s Thumb, I first experienced tipping over in a canoe.  As a tween, I paired up with a boy I didn’t know well.  In spite of explaining that I had years of canoeing experience as my parents’ owned a campground and canoe livery, he insisted on steering.  Inevitably, we ended up in the lake, the coolness of the lake hopefully camouflaging my rising anger.  I have never forgotten.

My friend Brenna and I outside of King Mountain Ranch in Estes Park, Colorado.
The 2nd Annual National Turner Syndrome Camp 1996.

Years later, as a teen, I attended the National Turner Syndrome Camp at King Mountain Ranch in Estes Park, Colorado.  I met other teen girls who faced the same physical, emotional, and social challenges as me for the first time.  Words fail me other than to say that those experiences at King Mountain Ranch filled me with a confidence that I would not have had otherwise.  One of my favorite memories is of how my friends and I scared ourselves silly watching The Shining after learning that the movie was filmed nearby.  It is still my favorite horror movie and my favorite Stephen King novel.  Those two years attending the National Turner Syndrome Camp still mean so much decades later. Most of all, I hope children of all ages have the opportunity to experience camp in all its forms.  Those varied experiences not only added to my education in invaluable ways, but they shaped the person I am today in countless ways.

Not The End, The Beginning – Part 3

Cousin fun on the Rifle River, Omer, Michigan.June 2023

Part 1

Part 2

This year will mark my 12th year back working at Russell Canoe Livery.  Each year, I love it even more and appreciate what my parents and grandparents built.  Without the canoe livery, pursuing my teaching career, and student teaching in particular, would not have been possible.  None of it would have been an option.  Only when I returned to the family business in 2013 did I fully understand just how much my mom contributed to the canoe livery.  After retiring from teaching in 2010, Mom became more involved in the business.  Only in 2013 did I begin to take over some of her responsibilities.  I had to reconsider what I wanted and the narrative I had created for myself.

Growing up, I always looked up to my dad and Grandpa Buttrick.  Both businessmen, I saw how both had created a life for themselves using family businesses.  In Dad’s case, the seasonal nature of the canoe livery allowed him to pursue other interests and provide us with a great quality of life.  As his sidekick, I grew up watching Dad making decisions about the business.  Prior to building the Crystal Creek shower house in 1992, I went with him to check out similar showerhouses.  One of my earliest memories is going with Dad in his truck to unclog the artesian well across the road in Crystal Creek Campground.  I used to argue with him when Erica and I would catch the bus from our house behind Crystal Creek to our main location in Omer.  He, of course, wanted us to ride in his bus.  Knowing that he wouldn’t let me bounce around in the back of the bus, I wanted to ride with anyone else.  Dad often won.

Grandpa Buttrick, on other hand, moved his young family from Marshall, Michigan to Standish, Michigan to take over his grandfather’s business:  Forward Corporation.  On our yearly trip to the Upper Peninsula with my Buttrick grandparents and cousins, we always had to stop in Gaylord to check on his convenience stores.  He loved the business, and due to a unique set of circumstances, I managed one of his convenience stores for a few years.  Through that experience, I learned just why he loved that business so much.  If I hadn’t moved back to Michigan in 2005, I would not have had the opportunity to get to know Grandpa Buttrick so well before he passed away in 2007.  Like teaching, business runs deep in my blood.

Late 90s at Russell Canoe Livery.
Hard at work!

When I graduated in 1999, I attended Michigan State University to pursue a business degree in supply chain management.  I quickly decided to pursue a Spanish degree too.  I couldn’t give it up.  Both of my older cousins earned degrees in supply chain management from MSU as well.  I knew the program, and frankly, the subject still fascinates me.  Even though I didn’t end up with a long career in supply chain, those experiences during my years at MSU made a deep impression on me and still shape how I view the world.

The processes of working so closely with my parents on all things relating to the canoe livery and establishing my teaching career gave me a whole new appreciation for my mom.  I will never understand how she taught kindergarten for 15 years.  Two half-days substitute teaching in kindergarten were more than enough for me.

As time went on, I slowly realized that the canoe livery would not have been nearly as successful without Mom and Grandma Reid.  Dad may have had the vision and made it happen, but it would not have been possible without great customer service provided by us all.  I may have grown up wanting to follow in Dad and Grandpa Buttrick’s footsteps, but I followed in my mom’s instead.  I just faced a different set of circumstances.

The Cottage

10 year old me, huge pink glasses and all, hanging out with Dad on the front porch of the “old” Buttrick cottage on Sage Lake. 1990

Lately, the cottage has been on my mind.  In Michigan, many families have a “cottage” or “cabin” Up North, however you define it.  Minnesota may be the land of 10,000 lakes, but Michigan actually has more, only outnumbered by Alaska.  As a true Michigander, I am drawn to water in all of its forms.  The cottage in my mom’s family, going back at least five generations, still plays an important role in our family.

Actually, there are two.  The “old cottage,” which belonged to my great grandmother, Leona Clara Forward Buttrick, otherwise known to her great grandchildren as Great (I wrote about her life in Family History), had character to spare.  Dating back to the 1930s or 1940s, the “old cottage” looms large in my childhood memories.  It was the site of numerous weekend get-togethers with extended family, particularly my Buttrick grandparents, cousins, and aunts (and their husbands).  Great spent most of her summers at the “old” cottage on Sage Lake, which made these early memories extra special.

Once Great passed away in 1993, it was decided that we needed a cottage closer to the lake, a new place to make new memories.  Thankfully, this cottage is still in constant use during the summer and still the site of countless family summer gatherings.  Still, there is something special about the “old” cottage, warts and all.  It is still there, largely unchanged, to be enjoyed by a new family.

If anything, I would have to say it was Great herself that made the cottage special.  She was always there, smiling and laughing.  She seemed to just take it all in, surrounded by her granddaughters, great granddaughters, son, and daughter-in-law, among others.  She always had a tin filled with Hydrox cookies for her great grandchildren and would look the other way while we snuck them.

It was a treat to spend the night at the cottage with Great.  I believe that my mom, sister, and I stayed overnight with Great at the cottage a handful of times.  I loved waking up near the lake, having toast with real honey from the comb and an individual box of cereal for breakfast.  The “old” cottage may have been located on a large bluff overlooking Sage Lake, making swimming and boating a workout, but the view was second to none.

As Great’s birthday was in late August, I vividly remember driving up to the cottage to take Great out to dinner.  Mom, Erica, and I pilled in Great’s huge seafoam green Caddy to take her out for frog legs, her favorite.  We all adored Great, but the relationship that my mom had with her grandmother was truly special.  It must have been for my mom to pack up her two little girls and drive over half an hour each way to take her grandmother out to dinner for her birthday.  I am so grateful for all the time I got to spend with Great. As I was 13 when she passed away, I knew her well  Not everyone gets the opportunity to know a great grandparent in such a wonderful, detailed way.

The thing about going to the cottage during my childhood was that it was a process.  Yes, there may have been times when I actually traveled to the cottage with my parents, but that is not what I remember as well.  What I will remember most is all the fun I had piling into my grandparents’ huge 1980s station wagon with my older cousins.  At one point, Grandpa B. owned one of those coveted wood paneled station wagons that had a rear facing seat.  Of course, as kids, we all piled in the “way” back.  My sister Erica, our cousin Abby, and I spent the entire 20 minute trip making up songs, playing silly finger-snap games, and hoping that we would be the “first one to see the lake.” Getting there was half the fun.

Actually, in those days, my parents presence at the cottage didn’t register much.  No.  The cottage was all about playing with cousins.  We would climb the tree in the front yard, create dance routines on the parking pylons and the torpedo towable, and swim.  There were trips to the pop shop and pontoon boat rides too.  Grandpa could never understand why I would always pick out baseball cards (normally Topps ‘87s) instead of candy at the pop shop.  I think it amused him.

Swimming and boating at the “old” cottage required a little planning.  The obstacle to lake access was a large, steep set of stairs.  If you were going down to the lake, you stayed there for a while.  If anyone was heading up to the cottage and planned to return to the lake, she automatically played waitress.  It wasn’t kind to head up without asking if anyone needed anything.  It is the one thing that I do not miss about the “old” cottage. If we weren’t down at the lake, we were hanging out on the large covered porch in the front yard, facing Second Ave., the lake behind.  This was the site of all of our games.

Of course, no description of cottage life would be complete without a description of the food.  For dinner, there was chicken, burgers, and hotdogs on the grill with plenty of sides and salads, you name it.  What really stands out, though, is so simple:  Grandma B.’s fruit platters.  Even us kids devoured mounds of fresh watermelon, cantaloupe, bananas, and blue berries.  As soon Grandma brought out the fruit tray, it was time to take a break from all the fun.

Then there was the cottage itself.  It was small and pine paneled with lots of windows overlooking the deck with the lake below, decorated in a mix of mid century cottage style.  Even though there were only two bedrooms, it never felt cramped to me as a child.  It largely smelled of fresh air and the lake, with Great’s Airspun powder lingering in the bathroom.  Overall, it is a place where I made countless memories that I will always carry with me.

I am grateful that my brother Garrett takes his kids to the cottage often.  For him, it is all about catching air on Sage on a wakeboard.  Both of his kids, both under 10, adore wakeboarding and tubing behind the speedboat.  Yet, I feel for Garrett.  He has little to no memory of the cottage atmosphere I just described – the one seared in my memory, the one that started it all.  While he definitely knew Great, she passed away when he was only two years old.  It saddens me because the image of how fiercely my toddler brother adored our great grandmother is among one of sweetest things I have ever witnessed in my life.  I’m just glad the cottage still lives on.  The cottage is still a place where cousins make memories.

To My Grandparents, Thank you!

My grandparents are never far from my mind (or heart), but over the last several days, they’ve been on my mind even more.  As my parents were preparing for a trip to Ireland, my dad asked me a little about the Irish ancestry on the Russell side of his family.  It is fascinating!  I didn’t realize that his grandfather (my great grandfather), Elijah (EC) Russell, was the son of Irish immigrants.  As Grandpa Russell passed away long before I was born, I happen to know the history of the Suszko and Buttrick/Hoffman sides of my family better.  Realizing that my ancestors on the Russell side made sacrifices for their descendants by leaving their homeland in search of a better life is humbling.

Grandpa Russell’s parents – Mary Jennie and Elijah (EC) Russell

Today also happens to be Grandparents Day.  My grandparents may no longer be with us, but I simply would not be the same person without their influence.  As a child, I somehow won the grandparent lottery.  Both my Buttrick and Reid grandparents lived close by and played a huge role in my life.  I spent my summers spending time and working with Grandma and Grandpa Reid.  They both taught me so much about life in general.  I’ve written extensively about their influence.

Grandma and Grandpa Buttrick’s house was always open to us grand kids and our friends.  They lived close to Standish Elementary, and we often visited after school.  As an adult, trips to Standish were not complete if I didn’t visit Grandma and Grandpa.  Even today, when I am running errands in Standish, I think of how nice it would be to be able to stop in for a quick visit.  I still miss the book club for two that I had with Grandma B.  I also think of all of those August trips to hunting camp in Kenton, piling in Grandpa’s station wagon or Suburban with our cousins.

There is so much more I could say.  I didn’t even discuss our “adopted” grandparents, our neighbors Joyce and Carl.  That is all together another subject for another day.  By the way, I didn’t post a picture of Grandma Buttrick for a specific reason.  She was a private person, and even though she is no longer here, she would hate having her picture here.

Even though I never knew him, Grandpa Russell’s legacy lives on in the canoe livery.  Grandma and Dad may have kept the canoe livery running after he passed away, but it was Grandpa Russell who started it all over 60 years ago.  In fact, all of my grandfathers were entrepreneurs in their own way – a fact I love.

So, to all of my grandparents, thank you!  Thank you for your love, guidance, memories, and so much more.

Love,

Lindo

Sugarfoot

Little Bo

Christmas 2004 – Left to Right – My sister Erica, me, and Grandpa Buttrick.

This is one of my favorite pictures, taken at our annual adult Christmas dinner at the Quality Inn in West Branch, MI.
Left to Right:  Owen Reid (my dad’s “step” dad whom we all adored); Grandma Reid; me age 17; and my brother Garrett, age 7.
Grandpa Russell; Twining, MI.