I’ve struggled for nearly two months to write this post. It is time. Back in mid-June, I spent the afternoon in East Lansing with my friend Lauri. While it was not our only intent, we sought the memorial brick my cousin Lugene’s family placed on campus in her memory. If it weren’t for Lugene, Lauri and I probably would have never met. Spending time with Lauri searching for Lugene’s memorial brick seemed fitting. After all, as dedicated genealogists, Lauri and Lugene spent countless days researching in Michigan cemeteries. Here we were searching for Lugene.
When we did finally locate her memorial brick, it completely caught me off-guard. It is located near the gardens where I found myself on a first date with a guy I dated briefly while at MSU – a very fun first date. I had completely forgotten. While MSU is far too big for me to legitimately say that I have a memory in every part of campus, I certainly have my share. They all seemed to come flooding back to the point where I couldn’t keep up.
What it comes down to is this: I need to visit my alma mater more often. I avoided MSU after my friend Derrick died back in 2009, and Lugene’s death made it even worse. Lugene took pride in her MSU alum status, and it was a part of her personality. As much fun as I had visiting, I also felt out of sorts. I hope one day I will be able to visit without feeling such a sense of loss.
I’ve finally concluded that it isn’t just the loss of Derrick and Lugene that I was feeling that day. I also mourned the loss of the college girl I once was. While I wouldn’t quite say that I was fearless as a freshman, I came close. I thought nothing of pursuing whatever my heart desired while at MSU. What happened? Maybe I can find her once again.
The links above lead to posts I wrote concerning Derrick.
It was unbearable. The whole thing. Every second worse than the last. I just kept thinking about calling him, wondering what would happen, if anyone would answer. In the last weeks, we’d been reduced to spending our time together in recollection, but that was not nothing. The pleasure of remembering had been taken away from me, because there was no longer anyone to remember with. It felt like losing your co-rememberer meant losing the memory itself, as if the things we’d done were less real and important than they had been hours before.
The Fault in Our Stars by John Green (Photo credit: theunquietlibrary)
Dear D.,
I’ve been meaning to write you all this past week for the obvious reason: August 15 would’ve been your 31st birthday. It pisses me off I can’t directly tease you about becoming a dirty old man despite the fact I am older than you. I still feel cheated out of years of memories of us. I suppose I had such a clear vision of us still arguing over memories in our 70s and 80s, just like your Great Aunts E. and G. and my Grandma, I still can’t quite believe it just wasn’t meant to be.
The passage above describes well what I feel nearly three years after you passed away. I’m afraid those quirky memories we made in childhood, high school, and then college will die if I happen to forget. I just don’t want that to happen. I don’t want to forget. I’m glad I read The Fault In Our Stars by John Green before I tried to write anything. Now this letter has a purpose.
That is what is so aggravating. Every time I think of you, what I want to say to you, or memories of us, it just seems to go nowhere. Without you here, who is left to really care, besides me? No one. Once I come to that conclusion for the hundredth time, I realize how futile writing a letter to you is. And yet, I can’t help it. I have to do something. There were way too many things left unsaid.
By the way, don’t get the impression that I’m the only one who remembers you. I can only imagine the hole left in your family. Just the other day I came across a post Carla posted on your Facebook wall. I know she misses you just as much as I do, as does Jelly. Some time ago I saw Jelly when I ordered something at Tony’s, and we just didn’t even know what to say to each other. It was the first time I saw her since you passed away. We talked about anything and everything else, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t first and foremost on our minds.
So here it goes. Here are a few memories of us:
High School –
Freshman Year. You ended up getting hours of detention for picking on me in Freshman English. It became so bad Miss V. quipped that you and I would probably end up married someday, we were that practiced at nagging each other. Every time I think of Friends, Romeo and Juliet, or Great Expectations, I think of Freshman English and you. I can almost feel you tapping me on the shoulder and hear you make some smartass remark about people trying to look like Courtney Cox. By the way, I know you knew you had it all wrong. The haircut was called the Rachel for a reason. You just liked to play dumb to get attention. I still find it amusing that you ended up with detention and I didn’t.
Prom. I will never forget you on Prom Night, senior year. You ended up taking my cousin K. (Rusty) as your date, and she became Prom Queen. I’d never seen you so incredibly happy. You had to tell everyone that you were the date of the Prom Queen and were genuinely happy for her. I know it is stupid, and I never admitted this, but until I saw you that happy, I was envious of K. If you’d asked me to the prom, I doubt I would’ve said yes. But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t imagine it. It could’ve made up for years of us being ostracized by our class. We could’ve spent all night making snide remarks, joking around, and just proving everyone wrong. In the end, I don’t think either one of us had the guts.
Kayaking and Guy. I’ll never forget your Aunt L. and Guy visiting from Texas one summer. Somehow I was pressured into taking Guy kayaking. I don’t think I ever paddled so fast in my entire life. The entire trip was strange. I just felt like I had to show him up, he was that cocky. You were very right about him. I can understand why you two weren’t exactly friends. I’m trying in vain to remember whether or not you went with us. Maybe you just came to the Livery and didn’t go kayaking? It doesn’t matter. We did talk about Guy and came to the conclusion that he was a little too wrapped up in Friday Night Lights.
State. I distinctly remember the day we received our housing assignments for our first year at Michigan State. My jaw dropped when I realized not only were we going to attend the same university, we were assigned to the same dorm complex, Snyder-Phillips. Quite frankly, I wasn’t happy. I just wanted to start fresh as MSU, and there you would be, a reminder of school years I would rather forget. In the end, I’m so grateful for that simple twist of fate. Quite simply, college would not have been the same without you.
A National Championship and the Flintstones. I love the fact that we somehow found each other among throngs of people in Cedar Village after MSU won the 2000 National Championship. I think about that April night a lot. How could I not? That picture of us outside Cedar Village – you smoking a cigar and your arm around me, me smiling like my life depended on it – is among my favorites.
2nd Floor, Snyder Hall. You used to love hanging out on my floor in Snyder Hall. I’ll never forget the crazy 3 AM political conversations we had, Kim included. I just can’t wait until we have the first female President of the United States. I’ll smile, think about how you just lost a bet, and carry on, thinking about how very wrong you were the entire time. Sexism doesn’t pay.
Where were you? I’ll never forget getting a call from your Mom freshman year at State. She couldn’t get a hold of you and simply wanted to know if I knew where you were. I didn’t at that moment, and the entire thing broke my heart. I wish I could’ve helped her – and you.
Capstone. We’d lost track of each other during those years I studied abroad. Nevertheless, you found your way back into my life. You just wanted me to look over your résumé and rekindle our friendship. It worked. You once again became a fixture in my life.
Crunchy’s and a Broken Heart. D, I have no idea what your true feelings for me were, but you must have truly cared for me on some level, whether you wanted to acknowledge it or not. During the spring of 2004, as my life was endlessly shifting under me before I could even regain my footing, you somehow knew how heartbroken hearted I was. You knew that I simply needed a night out with an old friend who understood just how upset I was. I wanted that job in Austin desperately, not to mention the mess that was my personal life at that point. Many things happened that evening, of course , and even the next day. I’m not going to talk about them here, but I need to say this: Thank you! You knew just what I needed, even if I didn’t.
Brian. That same spring, 2004, I began my relationship with an old friend, Brian. Your teasing still makes me laugh. Some of it was so spot on, especially those jokes about how I could never have any fun while living in Arenac County. You basically stated that any night of debauchery in Arenac County would become common knowledge before I even made my way home. So very true. I got the sense that you were happy that I finally had a man in my life, my first true romantic relationship. Those were some wonderful days for Brian and I, and I think you could sense just how happy I was at that moment. If only I could live in those moments forever.
Aftermath.
A phone call or two. It still upsets me that we weren’t closer in those first few years after I graduated from Michigan State. I thought we would have time. Unfortunately that is what we didn’t have. There were several times I wanted to call you up and just lay everything on the line. I wanted to know what your feelings for me were. That was one thing I could never figure out. I wanted to know why you had so many issues with your Mom and brother, especially your Mom. I wanted to know what was really going on with you. Unfortunately we never had those conversations. I didn’t realize just how wrong things were until you were gone. It was too late.
Great Auntie G.’s Funeral. Of all my memories of you, your Great Aunt G.’s funeral stands out. It was the last time I ever saw you. It started immediately. We just gravitated toward one another. I suppose that’s no surprise as we were the only people under 50 in the room. Then, of course, my Grandma asked us to go get her a package of hearing aid batteries. We may have been at a funeral, but it sure didn’t take us long to start laughing our butts off once we were out the door. You either laugh or cry, right? You have to admit: It was the perfect excuse for us to catch up. After picking up the hearing aid batteries, you and I just drove around and reminisced. We covered a lot of ground from Standish to Omer. I’m so glad we had that opportunity. In a way, it was almost as if you were saying goodbye. The last time I saw you, you and your Dad were leaving the funeral home and walking toward the Granton. It angered me at the time, but I suppose everyone deals with death in their own way. I just never figured out how to deal with yours.
You have no way of knowing this, of course, but I never made it to your funeral. I ended up having to work. I suppose it is just as well as I would’ve been an absolute wreck. A few weeks after your funeral, I tried to find your grave. There were things left unsaid (most of which I am writing here today) and I wanted to get it all off my chest. There is so much in our hometown and in East Lansing that will always remind me of you.
And yet, there is one thing that still bugs me. What was our relationship? Whatever it was between us was much deeper than simple friendship, and yet we never had a romantic relationship, not even close. The closest thing I can come up with is that we were family without actually being related. We knew how to get on each other’s nerves, we knew how to make each other laugh and cry, and above all, I think we both cared. Was it really as simple as that? I like to think so. I love you and miss you.
Linds
PS – Oh, and one last thing. Your Mom. I never told you this, but your Mom happened to be my Grandpa’s favorite nurse. I know that you didn’t have a good relationship with her and it never was any of my business, but I am grateful to her. She took great care of my Grandpa when he was dying. I wish I could simply tell her thank you. I wish I could talk to her about you.
Sometimes writing is so timeless that it needs to be shared again. Recent events have brought back a flood of memories, and I thought that I would share some of my favorite old blog posts. You can find the original here.
Dear D. –
After all these years I still miss you horribly. I just got a new cell phone the other day, and I realized I couldn’t bring myself to delete your number, your e-mail, nothing. It will always be there. There are so many times I’ve wanted to just pick up the phone to talk to you for a minute or two. Like my little brother, you could always manage to put a smile on my face. You’d laugh your butt off at the hot mess I’ve gotten myself into, as usual. And yes, Diet Coke still runs through my veins.
I will never forget you and always love you.
Linds.
PS – I haven’t been able to bring myself to go to East Lansing over the last few years. So many memories! You were always there when I needed you most.
Due to a variety of circumstances over the last few weeks, this subject continues to be in my thoughts. It is so disturbing to me how it is permissible in our society to treat others so differently based on something so arbitrary as height and weight. Why is this acceptable? I am so sick and tired of people not realizing that there are many complicated factors that play into eating disorders such as anorexia, bulimia, and obesity. There isn’t a quick fix. Food can be an addiction just as powerful as drugs, sex, alcohol, or gambling. Bullying just makes things infinitely worse.
I’ve discussed it before, but I was relentlessly bullied about my weight and height early in elementary school – grades K-3 – particularly in gym class and at recess. At age 5, classmates commented daily on how short, fat, and ugly I was. The funny thing is that while I may have been a stocky child, I was not fat at the time. At some point, I started to believe them. How was I ever supposed to feel good about my body?
Later in elementary school, I learned that I would never have children naturally. I refuse to say children of my own. When I do adopt, my child (or children) will most certainly be mine. At age 10, it devastated me. To make matters worse, one boy in my class found out about my diagnosis of Turner Syndrome and what it meant. He proceeded to call me a deeply disturbing name as a result, making it clear to me that he knew what I perceived at the time to be private.
It changed me. I vividly remember balling as soon as I came home, refusing for a time to even tell my parents what had happened it upset me so badly. Today, looking back at what he called me, it is almost funny – at least from an adult perspective. After that incident, I owned the fact that I had Turner Syndrome. While I didn’t go around telling everyone, I did explain when asked what it meant. I didn’t hide from it anymore, even though I had only recently learned of the diagnosis myself. Unfortunately, it reinforced the shame I felt towards my body.
As an adult, I find it difficult to deal with my body image issues while dealing with the emotions that come with infertility as well. I can’t deny it: I don’t know when I will ever be at peace with my body when, in my mind, it has fundamentally failed me in what should be a basic function. Somehow, I will have to come to terms with it. I just don’t know how.
In the meantime, I am done. I am done trying to please anyone other than myself. I continue to refuse to play the games society demands of women young and old. There are way too many young girls today who feel as if they are not enough, that their worth is determined by their weight (and/or height). That is why I am sharing something so deeply personal. I want anyone struggling with body image to know that he or she is not alone. Weight and diet are not as simple as we make them out to be.
It breaks my heart to see my Facebook feed full of beautiful women struggling with body image and eating disorders and mothers at a loss on how to help their child rebuild self-esteem through bullying. I see it daily. Frankly, this topic scares me the most about parenthood.
It is no secret that I am a stubborn person. For those that know my family, I clearly inherited that trait from my dad. Frankly, I am proud of that fact – and it goes deeper into my family history. My paternal grandmother, Grandma Reid, was every bit as stubborn as her son. I have no idea if my dad’s father was stubborn or not – sadly, he passed away long before I could meet him – but I am certain Dad inherited at least some of his stubborn nature from his mother.
After my senior year of high school, I spent the summer working with Dad and Grandma at the canoe livery, just as I had all throughout high school. That summer, however, continues to stand out. I normally didn’t argue or disagree with Dad. I had learned to trust his judgement and accepted that he had reasons for the way he did things over the years. That summer, I bristled. I no longer wanted Dad to tell me what to do, even if he was my boss. I couldn’t get to Michigan State fast enough. To complicate matters, Grandma wouldn’t budge, set in her ways over the decades. She didn’t always agree with me or Dad. In fact, Dad and I had to make her get out of the office and enjoy herself. That is how much she loved to work.
By August, things came to a head. The three of us were not listening to one another, and we all thought we were right. All these years later, I couldn’t even tell you what our disagreements were about. Really, all that mattered is we loved one another, even if we were getting on each other’s last nerve. Of course, things vastly improved once summer came to an end and I set off for new adventures at MSU.
While I consider myself close to Mom and her family, our stubborn natures somehow brought Dad, Grandma, and I together. For me, it goes beyond stubbornness. It is a drive to succeed. It is a drive to lead a full life no matter what is thrown our way. It is survival.
I’ve read so many wonderful books over the last few months. They helped me get through this endless Michigan winter. Recently, over spring break, I finally read Me Before You by Jojo Moyes, as well as the other books in the trilogy, After You and Still Me. I don’t normally read romance, but there is something about these books I truly love. They will stay with me for quite some time.
It is not my intention to review the books individually here (which I may do later), but simply discuss the series itself, and specifically, its protagonist Louisa. I will try not to give anything away. I would recommend all three books to anyone who enjoys an entertaining story.
First, a little background is needed. I heard the title Me Before You thrown around for years before I actually read the book. I had no idea up until a week or so before diving in that it was the first book in a trilogy. Shortly before spring break, I read a review of Still Me. The reviewer enjoyed the books enough to convince me I needed to read all three books. More on that review later.
Where do I begin with Louisa? First, throughout the entire series, she reminded me of Bridget Jones, one of my favorite fictional characters of all time. Indeed, I view Louisa as a more mature, more capable Bridget. This comparison led me to view Louisa as older than she is intended to be in the series. Somehow, I began to view Louisa as in her early thirties and Bridget in her late twenties. Really, it is the other way around. There is a difference.
In general, Louisa seems to have a deeper relationship with her family than Bridget has with hers. I could relate to Louisa’s relationships with her parents and sister, not to mention her grandfather, more easily than Bridget’s. I am not quite sure why. It may simply be that those familial relationships of Louisa’s were more fully developed.
Another reviewer (the one mentioned above) felt that while he enjoyed the series, Louisa kept dealing with the same issues and didn’t appear to learn anything. I take exception to this. I don’t agree. While I don’t believe Louisa grew or changed as much throughout the novel as others (the end of the trilogy not withstanding), she eventually gets it right. In short, there is a learning curve. Considering the fact Louisa experiences several deeply emotional and dramatic changes in her life, both personal and professional, she needs time to process all that has happened in her life. Most of those changes are outside of her control, even as she tries so hard to exert it.
That fact and Louisa’s history throughout the trilogy endears her to me. In fact, on a certain level, I can relate. Hopefully my life will one day come together as well. Unfortunately, I am not quite there yet.
While I didn’t enjoy the sequels to Bridget Jones’ Diary, I did enjoy the entire Me Before You trilogy. I like to think that Bridget and Louisa would become fast friends in London, even if they travel in different circles. I would recommend the Me Before You trilogy to anyone who loves to read, even readers who normally shy away from romance. It is one series that rewards readers for staying to the very end.
Stoddard’s Landing July 2017 – Busy Saturdays! Photo Credit: Garrett Russell
I admit it, I take the river for granted. It is such an ingrained part of my life – and even who I am – it is easy to overlook its power, not to mention the role it continues to play in my life. My parents own Russell Canoe Livery and Campgrounds and have since June 1977, a few months prior to their wedding. They purchased the business from my paternal grandmother who continued the business after my grandfather passed away. The canoe livery is as much of my family history as it is my personal history. Without the river, it simply wouldn’t exist.
Some of my earliest and best childhood memories involve the canoe livery. I spent countless hours swimming in the river, running around the campground, and generally spending my summers with my family as they worked. I hope my niece and nephews – and eventually my own child(ren) – will grow up the same way. Heck, not every kid can say that they have their own busing system! As my childhood home is located behind our Crystal Creek Campground store, my sister and I could simply catch the bus to our main location in Omer after watching Saturday morning cartoons. All we had to do was run down the hill at either 9:15 AM, 10:45 AM, or 12:15 PM, bathing suits in tow. Later in the day, we would turn the buses into our private forts.
Our main location in Omer – Trust us, walk the campsites first!
One of my earliest memories of the canoe livery is of my grandmother teaching me to play the card game war in our old walk-up store. I also remember her teaching me how to find the big dipper in the night sky at around that same age. As a teenager, I spent countless summer weekends working with Grandma Reid, Mom, and Dad. Grandma taught me so much about business and customer service. Dad taught me, and continues to teach me, what it means to own a business and the value of hard work. Mom, of course, continues to keep it all running smoothly – now more than ever.
As for the river itself, it has provided our family with a wonderful quality of life for decades. I think of countless river trips over the years. One of my absolute favorites took place on August 1st last summer (also known as July 32nd if you are a teacher). I spent four hours tubing with one of my best friends. There may have been wine involved. We spent four hours catching up and enjoying the perfect Michigan summer afternoon/early evening. The weather was so perfect, we almost called my brother to pick us up downstream. We wanted to do the hour and a half trip as well.
My favorite part of Crystal Creek Campground – “Across the road, bottom of the hill.”
It is easy to forget the power of the river on a beautiful Michigan summer day. The Rifle is spring fed and has a swift current (about 5 MPH) during the best of times, but it can become downright dangerous if the water is too high. In fact, we won’t rent equipment if it is too high. Add in ice and it becomes unbelievably destructive. Fortunately, in the years my parents have owned the business, we have only experienced severe flooding and ice damage a handful of times. In 1984, my parents’ mobile home was flooded shortly before we were to move into our new house. In 1991, we had 4 ft. of water in our store in Omer and ice damage at Crystal Creek. Due to ice jamming up at Pinnacle Bridge, which cuts right through Crystal Creek, we have experienced ice damage to trees and outhouses at Crystal Creek a few times as well. Nothing could have prepared us for this year.
The “back yard” of my childhood home: Crystal Creek Campground.
In late February of this year, those along the Rifle River experienced flooding not seen since the 1950s due to ice buildup. Sadly, some people living in Pinnacle Park, which is located just up river from our Crystal Creek Campground, lost their homes. Our Crystal Creek Campground continues to look as though it was hit by a tornado. Dad and my brother Garrett are just now beginning to clean up. It is awful. Once it is finished, I will share pictures. The electrical system in that part of the campground will need to be replaced. On a lighter note, my parents’ home, the Crystal Creek store and shower house, and other out buildings are located on much higher ground and not affected.
Fortunately, our main location faired better. However, it did not remain unscathed. Our store in Omer took on two feet of water and mud, as did our pole barns. Luckily, our electrical system held. Overall, we were lucky. Other canoe liveries in the area experienced damage to vehicles, cabins, and more. Some even lost canoes and kayaks down river. Throughout this process, we have learned a few things and will be changing some processes when it comes time to close this fall.
My brother and I may never experience anything like this during our tenure as owners, but we will be better prepared. For so many varied reasons – many of which I can’t get into here – none of us will ever forget 2018. Here’s to a great summer and a beautiful (even if late) spring! I am looking forward to being back at my summer office.
This post is not about politics. Instead, it is about what is important in life. In the wake of Barbara Bush’s death, I keep coming across this quote. It sticks with me, and I can’t help but realize this is how I have tried to live my life thus far. I hope one day it will pay off.
This quote is the reason why I moved back to Michigan after falling in love with Austin, Texas and even beginning my career in Houston. It is why I moved back to Omer, Michigan to help take care of my grandmother. It is also the reason why I can’t imagine living far from family, even if it would greatly benefit my career (and social life) to do so.
That is only the beginning. This quote also contains the reason why a ten-year relationship dissolved. It helps to explain decades of worry regarding how I will ever create a family of my own, as well as my struggle to do just that. In short, it is why I get up every morning. It is my why. If someone ever wanted to understand the craziness that is my life at times, all he or she would have to do is think of the implications of this quote. I choose to try and avoid such regrets. I still have them, but I imagine not quite so many as others.
When I think of the elder Bushes, I think of their marriage of 73 years. Frankly, I can’t imagine being that in love. Unfortunately, I have no frame of reference. I also can’t imagine facing that large of a loss in life. It saddens me. My maternal grandparents were married 56 years. At this point, my parents have already been married 40 years. At 37, I am beginning to wonder if I will ever meet the right man. If I don’t, I won’t be the only one missing out.
I can’t recommend The Alice Network by Kate Quinn enough, particularly if interested in historical fiction and World Wars I and II. American college girl Charlie St. Clair is pregnant and trying to find out what happened to her cousin Rose. Set in 1947 and the aftermath of World War II, Charlie leaves her mother behind and travels to London to find Eve Gardiner, her only lead in her search for Rose. She is lost, driven by emotion, and angry that she is unable to access her own money. What happens next sets Charlie on an adventure throughout the French countryside.
Throughout the novel, we get Eve’s history during World War I and her involvement with the Alice Network, which is almost another novel. I normally don’t read afterwards in novels, but I did this time. I am glad I did. It turns out that much of Eve’s story does involve real actions taken by the Alice Network during World War I. Eve’s story intertwines with Charlie’s in unique and interesting ways, ultimately answering Charlie’s questions about Rose and helping Eve to make long awaited peace with her past.
There is romance in both stories to some extent, but it tends to move the plot along and isn’t romance for the sake of romance. The part I enjoyed most is Charlie’s determination to live her life on her terms and her terms alone. Throughout the novel, she is bombarded with familial and societal expectations. Ultimately, she leaves them behind and creates her own future. The reader is taken along for one fun ride.
In Eve’s story, much of the action is hard to take. It is difficult to realize just how much she and her fellow Alice Network members risked every minute they lived under German occupation. It is ultimately satisfying for the reader when she finally makes peace with her past. I only wish that a few of the male characters were more fully developed, but it is a minor issue considering it is not their story. I hate to admit this, but it would make a wonderful movie.
It is no secret that I love quotes. Every so often, one hits you right in the gut. That is what happened one morning in church. Before church truly begins, our ley leader normally shares a funny inspirational story or quote. That particular week, she shared the quote shown above. It works on so many levels.
First, I have so many ideas for stories, books, and series that I don’t know where to begin half of the time. There are always fresh ideas competing with the old and written projects badly in need of editing, not to mention conferences and workshops to attend. How do I keep track of it all or know where to start?
Second, this is one of my biggest fears: I will never get around to writing what I need to write. If I didn’t do anything else in my life, I would still have enough experiences, memories, and ideas to keep me writing for the rest of my days. This is where my perfectionist nature rears its ugly head. It is the best stories that keep me up at night. How do I get them down correctly the first time? Well, writing doesn’t work that way, unfortunately. Intellectually I understand, and yet, I can never quit shake the feeling I left something important out, no matter how well-intentioned my first draft.
Finally, this quote gets to the heart of how I would like to live my life. At the end of my life, I don’t want to wonder “what if …,” but it may be inevitable. I doubt anyone dies without regrets. It is possible to minimize them, however. It is time to get busy.
Ramblings of a Misguided Blonde 