Category Archives: outdoors

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

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.

John Burke

John and I at my sister Erica’s wedding to Fred @ Crystal Creek Campground – June 8th, 2024

I don’t often get too personal here, unless it involves the past, so here it goes.  I’ve been dating John Burke for nearly four years now.  We’ve had so many wonderful times together so far, and I just want him to publicly know how much he means to me!  Here’s to many more years of concerts and other plans!

Love you,

Lindsey

PS – Who knew that online dating during a worldwide pandemic over 40 could work?

Russell Canoe Livery and Campgrounds Promo Video

I thought that I would share the latest version of our Russell Canoe Livery promo video.  Put together by Garrett Russell, much, if not all, of the footage was created by him as well.  I’d love for him to create more!  Due to copyright and music editing issues, it is best to watch the video without sound.

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.

The Ides of March

The middle of March will always bring memories of long family weekends in Grayling, MI.  Every year, we would attend the annual Michigan Recreational Canoeing Association meeting.  For my parents, it meant meetings, ordering merchandise for the summer ahead, and sharing ideas with other canoe livery owners.  As a child, it meant a long weekend swimming in the hotel pool, interspersed with time in the arcade and ordering pizza at least once.  Above all, I counted it as a sure sign of spring and the long summer to come.  Throughout my childhood, I considered it the first sign of spring – right up there with the return of the robins,

I loved going to the Holidome for the weekend.  My immediate family all attended, of course, but the entire conference took on the atmosphere of a family reunion at times.  When my aunt married, she and her then husband Kevin purchased a canoe livery on the AuSable.  We spent lots of time with Aunt Amy during RCA weekends.  In fact, when Aunt Amy later helped my mom and I place orders for the upcoming summer during the pandemic – an experience I hope to never repeat – it sparked a bit of nostalgia between sisters.  As Mom and Aunt Amy said, we were the association before the association.  They reminisced about the old meetings and some of the more memorable owners.  At one point, my dad even served as president.

Other liveries on the Rifle attended too.  One of my dad’s best friends at the time, Phil, owned Cedar Springs.  His wife and daughter, both named Connie, attended as well.  Both were family favorites.  Phil’s daughter taught with my mom for years, while his wife watched us while we were in the pool from time to time.  Every time we passed Cedar Springs on our annual overnight canoe trips with our dad, my sister Erica and I were treated to ice cream cones as we headed home on the river.

The White family attended as well.  White’s Canoe Livery happened to be the first canoe livery on the Rifle.  In fact, there would be no Russell Canoe Livery without White’s.  My grandfather got the idea from Don White and then started Russell Rent-a-Canoe out of what is now my home.  It all started in 1959 with a Ford pickup and a six haul of canoes.  To this day, the only person I know who knows the Rifle River as well as my dad is Ladd White, Don’s son and current owner.  I hate to think of the knowledge that will be lost when my dad and Ladd are no longer around.

Canoeing near the park in Omer ~ early 20th century.  The site of the former Omer park is just downriver from our main location in Omer.

For some reason, I seem to remember that there would be a March canoe trip as part of the meetings.  At one point, it may have been referred to as the Ides of March trip.  As a child, that fascinated me.  I could not understand why anyone would want to canoe in the winter.  In my child’s mind, canoeing and tubing meant one thing and one thing only:  swimming.  What was the point of canoeing if you couldn’t get wet?  That happened to be my biggest gripe about March.  March supposedly brings spring, and yet, it would be months before I could swim the river again.  It didn’t seem fair.

The Rifle River and Russell Canoe Livery will always be a part of me.  My first home happened to be near our main location in Omer.  One day, hopefully decades in the future, it will also be my last.  March is when it all starts to spring to life once again.  Reservations start rolling in, plans are made, and merchandise is ordered.  I love it all, especially our customers.  Here is to a wonderful summer 2024!

Of Hunting and Fishing, Reading and Writing

Teddy Roosevelt is easily one of my favorite Presidents.

Sometimes I question whether or not Dad realizes what an example he set for his children – or at least me, as I can’t speak for my brother or sister.  He, along with my mom, spent the last nearly 46 years owning and operating Russell Canoe Livery and Campgrounds, Inc. and are still actively involved in the business.  They purchased the canoe livery from my paternal grandmother, Judy Reid, in June 1977, a few months prior to their wedding.  Growing up in and with the business, I saw firsthand what my parents and grandparents did to grow the business, including the sacrifices they made.

As a child, whenever anyone asked what my dad did for a living, my response of “he owns a campground and canoe livery” fascinated many.  As the canoe livery developed, Dad focused on creating a business that not only worked around our family life – it complimented my mom’s teaching career and our school schedules well.  It also allowed him to pursue his hobbies of hunting and fishing in a way impossible for most people.

I admit it:  I know more about hunting and fishing than any non-hunter, non-fisherwoman I know.  All thanks to Dad.  I grew up feeding Beagle hunting dogs used for rabbit hunting; with various mounts in our basement; and learning what a Pope and Young record meant, once my dad killed a Canadian black bear with a bow and arrow.  That bear now infamously resides in our main office/store in Omer, a legend in his own right.

This guy gets a lot of attention during the summer months, holding down the fort in our office.
Russell Canoe Livery, Omer, Michigan

As a young child, when I asked Dad why he hunted deer, he took the time to give me the full, true explanation.  At six years old, he explained how deer hunting helps control the deer population in Michigan.  If they weren’t hunted, there would be many more car/deer accidents, and they could become over-populated, causing starvation and disease.  I have never forgotten that lesson.  Even though I am no hunter myself, I have no issue with it – as long as rules are followed and as much of the animal is used as possible.

What I admire most about my dad is how he was able to create a life for himself in which he prioritized what he wanted out of life – and it wasn’t money – it was about lifestyle.  Even though he didn’t directly use his degree in wildlife biology in his career – he didn’t become a conservation officer – that knowledge allowed him to more fully understand what was needed to become a better hunter and fisherman.  Dad’s passion for his hobbies, even today in his 70s, still inspires me.

What I’ve long realized is that I am just as passionate about reading and writing.  He may not see it or recognize the correlation, but I do.  It is the reason why I earned my writing certificate from Delta College, took additional humanities courses when possible, joined Mid Michigan Writers, attended several writing workshops, and so much more.  Everyone should be so lucky.  I am never bored.  I am eternally grateful that my dad was able to find a way to make it all work and set an example for me to follow.  Per usual, I’m just doing things the “hard” way.  I will get there … eventually.