I was simply born in the wrong era.
It Was 60 Years Ago Today …
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Not The End, The Beginning – Part 2
Not The End, The Beginning – Part 1
When I went back to school in January 2014, just over 10 years ago, I admit, the idea of being an older student intimidated me, especially online courses. When I graduated from Michigan State University (MSU) in 2004, online courses were not nearly as developed as they are now. Due to a combination of landing a full-time position in Houston, Texas within a week of graduation, moving across the country, my stubbornness, and adjusting to working in corporate America full-time, my first experience with online classes did not go well. That early negative experience stayed with me. Fortunately, I adapted.
During the academic year, I planned to attend class and work on coursework two to three days a week while substitute teaching as much as possible. To add insult to injury, I didn’t just take classes at Saginaw Valley State University (SVSU). No, I decided to enroll at Delta College too.
There were two reasons why I enrolled at Delta. First, realistically, I could save money when compared to SVSU. Second, I decided to complete a writing certificate while working towards my teaching certificate. In the end, I had a wonderful experience at Delta College. My history and writing classes, all taken at Delta, are among my most treasured.
My decision to complete the general writing program at Delta College stemmed from my involvement with Mid-Michigan Writers. I attended their Gateway to Writing workshop in the fall of 2013. That day, I happened to hear a group of Jeff Vande Zande’s students talking about how much they enjoyed his class and the wonderful writing program at Delta. Vande Zande, who happened to be the keynote speaker that day, taught a screenwriting class at the time. A few years later, his screenwriting class changed the way I look at movies forever.
At SVSU, I had to decide which secondary endorsements I planned to pursue. In addition to Spanish, I had to choose between social studies and English. Social studies won. In 2019, I started a new position as a middle school teacher at St. Michael School and began taking classes to earn my English endorsement. As with so many things in my life, I didn’t want to have to decide between two great options, so I didn’t. I did both. In spite of a pandemic, scheduling conflicts, and other considerations, I finally completed my English endorsement in May 2023.
In the end, I resigned my position in order to finally complete my English endorsement. As incredible as it seems, SVSU, even in the aftermath of a global pandemic, offered no online or evening options for the two classes I still needed. It wasn’t the only reason I left St. Mike’s, but I knew if I didn’t, I’d never be able to finish. It ended up being for the best.
Sadly, that summer, approximately a month after I resigned, the assistant principal at St. Mike’s – and so, so much more – passed away. It is safe to say that my life would be very different without Norma Vallad. I certainly would not have landed at St. Mike’s without her involvement. So much of our school culture revolved around her down to every last detail. I still can’t imagine St. Mike’s without her. Fortunately, I didn’t have to face that prospect in the fall.
By the time I finished my English endorsement last May, I felt such a deep sense of closure. After all these years, no more educational pursuits to chase – unless, of course, someone would like to pay for a masters degree or PhD. As far as I am concerned, I have nothing left to prove.
Teaching left me conflicted. On one hand, I had come way too far to give up on teaching. Yet, my first full year of teaching coincided with the Covid 19 pandemic. I saw first hand how the pandemic affected teachers, students, parents, administrators, and everyone else. The apathy I saw and experienced still haunts me. As I reconsidered my role and future in education, little did I know that the best was yet to come.
Stay tuned for Part 3 …
Not The End, The Beginning – Part 1
I started this journey just over 10 years ago, and with all of the setbacks and triumphs along the way, every last step led to where I am now: Exactly where I belong. Actually, it started earlier than that. It all started with a conversation.
On an average evening well over a decade ago, I found myself deep in a conversation with my ex’s mom that changed my perspective, and my life, for the better. As she was making dinner, she brought up the fact that she wished she’d gone back to school to become a nurse. All I could think at the time is that I would do everything in my power to prevent having such a regret later on in life. Somewhere along the line, as I drove by Saginaw Valley State University’s beautiful campus, it hit me: As much as I wanted to deny it, I am a teacher.
In fact, that fact became a bone of contention. When my ex, our relationship already in shambles, found out that I planned to go back to school to become a teacher, he knew exactly which buttons to push, exactly the wrong thing to say. He felt that I wanted to become a teacher simply because my mom and sister are teachers. He had it exactly wrong. I wanted to become a teacher in spite of that fact. I knew intimately the challenges teachers face and have faced for decades. I know how little respect teachers get within our society. I grew up hearing how ineffective teacher preparation programs were and can be. I know how the sausage is made, and yet, I still wanted to be a teacher.
Above all, I am not my mother or my sister. My interest in education is not the same as theirs. Both were meant to be elementary school teachers. Me? Never! I adore young children, but I much prefer to work with teenagers, particularly older teenagers getting ready for the next step in their lives. My mom fell into the profession, and fortunately for her, it suited her well and worked out. Even though she’s been retired for well over a decade, I know what a wonderful teaching legacy she leaves behind. In fact, I am proud to be a part of it. I landed in her 6th grade social studies class.
My sister Erica, on the other hand, knew that she wanted to be a teacher her entire life. We’d play school frequently. With my love of books, I’d be the school librarian. Erica would be the teacher, of course, while our much younger brother Garrett would be the one and only student. Erica may still have some of those early report cards that she made for Garrett.
It is certainly true that teaching is in my blood. My sister and I come from a long line of teachers on our mother’s side going back at least five generations. As interesting as that is, it doesn’t stop there. Both of my mom’s grandmothers taught. My mom’s older sister Tara taught for her entire career. Grandma B. earned her teaching certificate, even though she never taught, choosing instead to stay home and raise her five daughters. Her younger sister, Joyce, taught for decades in the earliest grades. I could go on.
My dad’s family valued education as well. Both my dad and his sister married teachers. He has several cousins who work (and worked) in agricultural education and special education in various capacities. Even though my paternal grandparents never had the opportunity to pursue college educations, they encouraged their children to do so. In fact, my grandma valued her education so much that her school memories were some of the last to go in the face of dementia. Stories I will never forget. In fact, I doubt I would have had the opportunity to go back to school to earn my teaching certificate without Grandma Reid’s influence.
So, why did I go back to school to earn my teaching certificate? It is quite simple. I knew that if I didn’t, I would regret it for the rest of my life. My life would be unfulfilled. It has not been an easy journey, to say the least, but I am now exactly where I am supposed to be. Stay turned. This is just the beginning.
Ghosts of Christmases Past
It never seems to fail. Come the first week in December, I get overwhelmed with everything that needs to get done before Christmas – decorating, shopping, cards, planning, and so much more. As a teacher, that doesn’t even include everything that needs to be wrapped up before winter break. December, and Christmas in particular, are such a whirlwind of emotion and activity. Don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas. In fact, I adore it. My December 18th birthday just adds to it all. The reality that I am another year older doesn’t always help. I am old enough to miss several people who are no longer with us, particularly my grandparents, all of whom loom large in my Christmas childhood memories. Somewhere in the first week of December, I hit a wall, and frankly, I don’t want Christmas to come at all. Yet, it always does, and somehow, everything gets done on time. New memories are made. I just wish that it wasn’t such a messy process.
As with anything else in my life, I have to get over my idea of “perfection.” Who cares if I decorate later? I am decorating just for myself. Who cares if I leave up my Christmas a little longer? I still want to enjoy it once the craziness is over. It is time to move on and continue not caring what others think. It will all work out in the end. I will get plenty of time to spend with family and friends over break, and maybe even a chance to rest.
What is it about the Christmases of our childhood that bring back such vivid memories that we long to recreate? The thing is, it is in my blood. My mom adores Christmas. When mom and dad were newlyweds, she started playing Christmas music in October. After spending nearly a week in the hospital after I was born (yes, I am that old, and my mom was sick when I was born), my parents brought me “home” on Christmas Eve. In fact, they didn’t take me home. They took me directly to Grandma Buttrick’s for the Christmas Eve festivities. I don’t believe we arrived home until the next day.
I often wonder what that Christmas Eve 1980 at Grandma and Grandpa Buttrick’s was like. The only evidence I have that I was there are pictures of my parents holding me as I was decked out as Santa in a Christmas sleeper with a Santa beard bib. I wasn’t even the only one celebrating her first Christmas. My cousin Abby would turn one year old a few months later. It is fitting that we shared a first Christmas, just as we shared so many other childhood memories and fears. Christmas would not be the same without cousins.
As if two babies at Christmas wasn’t enough, 1980 represented the first Christmas in Standish. Earlier that year, Great, my great grandma, moved from Marshall, Michigan to Standish in order to be closer to her sons, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. I grew up hearing about all of the epic Christmases in Marshall at Great’s house. My mom and her sisters still marvel at how their mother packed everything for Christmas for five girls and then hauled it all across half the state. I imagine I get the same look in my eyes when I talk about Christmas Eve at Grandma Buttrick’s – or our entire itinerary – that my mom and her sisters get when they talk about Christmas in Marshall.
I can envision a time when my nieces and nephews will reminisce about the Christmases in Omer at Grandma Lala’s and Papa Chocolate Mik’s house, the house in which I grew up. I love to see how much they enjoy spending time together, even if it is absolute chaos. I just hope that I help to create a little bit of Christmas magic for them all.
The Beatles – Now and Then (2023)
The Beatles – Now and Then (2023) (Official Video) (Lyrics) (Documentary)
(Written December 4, 2023)
When I started The Mixtapes project on Ramblings of a Misguided Blonde, I knew that I would eventually have to address my love of the Beatles. Where to begin? As a result, I let nearly a year go by. Now, the decision has been made for me. We will start at the end.
I never dreamed that I would get the opportunity to write about a “new” Beatles release. Here I am, almost a month after the fact, doing just that. As a girl born a few days after John Lennon’s untimely death, a fan who witnessed the release of the Anthology Project during her high school years, it feels a fitting conclusion to all that the Beatles have achieved over the decades. Over the last month, I’ve watched as the reactions to “Now and Then” itself, the music video, and the mini-documentary came rolling in. Unsurprisingly, there is no consensus.
However, considering the rerelease of the “Red” and “Blue” compilation albums,
it somewhat makes sense.
Beatles fans appear to be solidly in two camps. The first group is dismissive, stating that “Now and Then” will never rank among their greatest hits. Of course it won’t! How could it? That is not the point. Advances in technology aside, they state that it never should have been made. I’ve also heard “fans” (I purposely use that term loosely) complain that video clips of John and George used in the official video are too “irreverent.” I still have a hard time understanding that criticism from self-professed fans.
My response is simply this: Did you understand the Beatles – the band and the then young men who created it – at all? Their humor is a huge part of what made them so great. Their humor still holds up today. They simply would not have been the Beatles if you took humor out of the equation. I love that I can laugh at images of two men who are long gone and dearly missed in a newly released music video.
Then there is my favorite: “Now and Then” sounds too much like John Lennon’s solo work from the late 1970s. Of course it does. That is exactly what “Now and Then” represents, if only a demo. John did record it in the 70s, and as the Beatles disbanded in 1970, he likely meant for it to be a solo effort. However, that is only part of the story.
“Now and Then” is also one of a handful of unfinished demos that Yoko Ono gave to Paul McCartney upon John’s death. During the Anthology Project, Paul, George, and Ringo completed two of the other demos, “Free as a Bird” and “Real Love.” At the time, both songs climbed the charts and introduced the Beatles to an entirely new generation of fans. By the way, both songs, along with their music videos, still hold up – even if some fans are now calling for them to be “cleaned up” as well.
Even though I didn’t think about it at the time, it makes sense that there was supposed to be a third song released with the Anthology Project. It was released in three parts after all. That third song? “Now and Then.” It just took a few decades, Peter Jackson, and new technology lovingly called “MAL” for it to come to fruition.
Personally, I don’t think that the Beatles could have ended on a better note. It is nostalgic, almost timeless, and with its humor, the video is even better. It is a true love letter from Paul and Ringo to George and John – not to mention all of us, the fans. So, to Sirs Paul and Ringo, thank you! Once again, the Beatles will be rediscovered by an entirely new generation of music junkies.
On a sidenote, even the 5th Beatle, George Martin, was there in a sense. In his absence, his son Giles Martin, who just happened to play a huge role in the orchestration of “Love,” helped put those finishing touches on “Now and Then.”
Living History
When we left school that fate Friday, March 13th, no one realized that we wouldn’t see each other in person for months.
Growing up, I always wanted to live through a historic event. Unfortunately, little did I know what life had in store for me. Now in my early 40s, I am amazed when I stop to think about what historic events I have lived through already – and how different the world is from when I grew up. I vividly remember the Cold War; the fall of the Berlin Wall; both the first and second Gulf Wars; September 11th, 2001; the War in Afghanistan; and of course, the COVID 19 pandemic.
A year after September 11th, 2001, that somber anniversary inspired me to write about my experiences on that fateful day. That entire morning is etched in my memory. At the time, I had just started my semester studying abroad in Quito, Ecuador a couple of weeks before. I was still learning my routine and adjusting to my new host family. September 11th colored that entire experience as there was no way it could not. While I didn’t write much for the 9/11 digital archive, what I did write sets the scene and provides a glimpse into what US exchange students were dealing with all over the world. My full story can be found at The September 11 Digital Archive, story6757.xml.
This past spring, a conversation with a fellow writer made me realize that I could do the same with my experiences throughout the pandemic. I found a place to archive all of my writing relating to the pandemic, past and future – A Journal of a Plague Year. I may include some videos I have from that time frame as well. It may become a cool little side project. I’m definitely looking forward to it. Maybe I’ll be able to finally put all that the pandemic disturbed and disrupted behind me.
There are SO many things that stand out. That first awful week of the shutdown during which I had to go to school, alone, and pack up all of my 6th graders belongings (pictured below). The conversation that I had with Norma and Ashley as school dismissed that awful Friday, March 13th of Lent, not realizing that we would not see each other in person for months, will always be remembered.
That weekend, my mom had had several old high school friends over for a get-together. The venue changed from a friend’s house to my mom’s in order to limit contact with her friend’s disabled and susceptible son. All so very strange and new. Keep in mind that this is just before the stay at home order was issued for Michigan.
After I learned that we would not be going back to school the following Monday, I just packed clothes and headed to my parents’ house. I didn’t know what else to do. I would stay there with them well into May/June. What I remember most is that I happened to catch some of my mom’s friends, some of my favorite people, before they left. It would be the last time I would see them for several months.
I could easily keep going. The spring of 2020 also represented the end of my first full year of teaching, my first 6th grade class. Definitely not the way I wanted to start off my teaching career. Personally, I believe the education system is still reeling from the shutdown. Students and teachers are still trying to pick up the pieces.
This is just a glimpse of what I plan to share and document. I hope that I inspire others to do the same.
Review: All Things Must Pass (Documentary)
“All Things Must Pass” is a documentary that covers the rise and fall of Tower Records during the second half of the 20th century and the first few years of the 21st. What I love about the documentary is the fact that I experienced a lot of changes that took place in the record industry, particularly in the record stores, during those years. As a businesswoman, I loved the discussion surrounding the birth and death of Tower Records’ business model. At the end of the documentary, I left thinking what a great case study it would make.
I can just imagine the beginnings. Supposedly Tower Records started as Tower Drugs. After World War II, leading into the 1950s, Tower Drugs began carrying 45s in an effort to tempt their teenage customers hanging out at the soda fountain. As the granddaughter and great-granddaughter of entrepreneurs who owned a pharmacy in Marshall, Michigan during this same time period, I can picture it.
In fact, my maternal grandparents met at Peck’s Drugstore in Marshall. My grandfather’s parents were partners in the business, and at the time, before graduating from high school and enlisting in the US Navy during World War II, Grandpa worked there as a soda jerk. Grandma, who attended then nearby Marshall High School, loved their lemon Cokes. I’ve visited Marshall and located the corner where Peck Drugs once stood. Marshall Junior High School, once Marshall High School, is located right across the street. Even though my grandparents were gone by that time, I could easily envision the circumstances under which they met.
This burgeoning teenage culture in the 40s and 50s led to rock and roll and the astronomical growth of the record industry from the 40s through the end of the century. I happen to be just old enough to have witnessed the heights of the 1980s, the changes experienced all throughout the 1990s, and the chaos that followed in the first decade of the 21st century.
I lived it. Madonna and Michael Jackson’s reign as Queen and King of pop were a huge part of my childhood, as were Tina Turner, Whitney Houston, Cyndi Lauper, Wilson Phillips, Paula Abdoul, and so many others. As grunge exploded in the 1990s, the music industry fractured in the wake of Kurt Cobain’s death and the advent of the internet. The music industry wasn’t nearly as tightly controlled as it once was and formats were changing yet again.
As a teenager, I understood the frustration. During the early part of my childhood, vinyl and cassette tapes dominated. Before long, CDs took over. WIth each new format, some felt the need to repurchase their music collection yet again. However, by the late 90s, people had had enough. During that time, I remember the anger that the equivalent of the 45 didn’t really exist in the CD format. You might be able to purchase singles, but they were never the hit songs. In essence, the record industry reached a point where they were pricing teenagers out of the market. Full CD albums during that time period usually ranged from $15-$20, depending on the artist and popularity. Today, I spend $8.99 a month for Amazon Music, which includes electronic access to whatever is available via Amazon Music – i.e. pretty much anything and everything.
The sad thing is that rural teenagers in the 90s, like me, mostly had access to the big box music retailers of the time, such as the behemoth Tower Records – or the CD clubs of the era, Columbia House and BMG Music. Oh, how I wished there were used record stores near me! When I arrived on campus at Michigan State in 1999, my friends and I made regular visits to The Wazoo, a mom and pop used record/CD store run by an old hippie who truly loved music, or WhereHouse Records, another great used music store. We could get an entire pile of albums for the price of one new release.
This atmosphere and the business model became a recipe for disaster. Enter the file sharing frenzy that took place in the early aughts. Napster and Limewire were king at this time. Why purchase music at all when you could download your favorite songs for free from a friend of a friend of a friend? While it wasn’t that simple – mislabeling ran rampant and download times could be excessive – it worked well enough. If anyone had actually been prosecuted for downloading music illegally, our judicial justice system would have quickly collapsed. Colleges, universities, and even many high schools would have been empty with students rotting in jail instead of receiving an education. That may be hyperbole, but not by much.
In the end, it could not last. Businesses such as Tower Records, so heavily dependent upon real estate and inventory, could not survive once people refused to repurchase their music collection yet again, pay full price for CD albums with only a handful of well-known songs (if lucky), downloaded whatever pirated music they wished via Napster and LimeWire. The electronic music market, now dominated by Amazon and Spotify, had not yet come into its own. Today, Tower Records lives on in Japan, a testament to its homegrown slogan – “No Music. No Life.”
“All Things Must Pass” is entertaining if you are interested in music and the history of the music business at all. It brought back a lot of memories for me, and frankly, I feel for teens today who do not have the experience of spending time in stores dedicated solely to music. Creating a Spotify or Amazon Music playlist just isn’t the same. The title “All Things Must Pass” comes from the sign a former Tower Records employee put on their sign as their original store was closing. “All Things Must Pass … Thanks Sacramento.” It is, of course, also the name of George Harrison’s triple solo album and hit, “All Things Must Pass.”
Gordon Lightfoot – The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald (1976)
Gordon Lightfoot – The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald (1976) (Video) (Lyrics)
(Written May 7, 2023)
“The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they called ‘Gitche Gumee’ …” (Gordon Lightfoot 1976)
There is probably no more iconic opening lyric in modern music history. Sadly, Gordon Lightfoot died on May 1st, 2023 at age 84. In capturing the story of the tragedy of the Edmund Fitzgerald in song, he immortalized the iron ore carrier, its crew, and its disputed demise for generations to come. In a sense, it has become an elegy for all those lost on the Great Lakes over the centuries.
Growing up in Michigan throughout the 1980s and 1990s, we learned about the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald through Lightfoot’s lyrics. Personally, I’ve been fascinated ever since. It is easy to see why so many are still drawn to the story. First, it is a fairly “modern” shipwreck. The Fitzgerald sank on Lake Superior on November 10, 1975. They had enough lifeboats, modern radar, and radio communication. In fact, Captain McSorley’s last radio communication with a nearby ship, the Arthur M. Anderson, was “we are holding our own.” That chilling fact alone sends my imagination reeling.
Next, there are lingering questions as to exactly how the Edmund Fitzgerald sank. Some say that she ran aground on Six Fathoms Shoal, while others believe that the hatchways were not properly secured. Then, there are those who believe one of the Three SIsters – a reference to gigantic waves developing on Lake Superior in the wake of incredible fall storms – doomed the ship.
In fact, the subject of the Edmund Fitzgerald still garners a lot of local interest in Michigan. In September 2022, former reporter and Edmund Fitzgerald researcher Ric Mixter presented information on the wreck at the old court house in Omer. I happened to attend his presentation, and for such a small community, there was standing room only. Ric Mixter, a former reporter for local WNEM TV5, went on to present in Bay City and other nearby communities as well. What’s great about his presentation is the depth of his research, his respect for those who died in the tragedy, and his obvious love for the subject matter. He lets his audience decide for themselves the ultimate cause of the wreck. After I attended Ric Mixter’s presentation, I compiled some of his resources in the post All Things Michigan.
Finally, Gordon Lightfoot’s master songwriting draws one into the tragedy. WIth lyrics like “ice water mansion” and “Does anyone know where the love of God goes, When the waves turn the minutes to hours?,” it becomes a timeless folk song dedicated to the power of the Great Lakes. By telling the story in a basic timeline format, he immortalizes the old cook and Captain McSorley, along with the rest of the crew, for all time. I can’t think of a better tribute to the 29 men that lost their lives that fateful November day. It is one of the most haunting songs I’ve ever heard and fully deserves its rightful place in the history of timeless American folk songs.
Faith Over Fear
Below are my thoughts after one year teaching through the pandemic. As a writing exercise, we were asked as teachers what we had learned through the experience. In my opinion, two years later, it sill holds up and summarizes nicely how I felt and continue to feel. Originally published on the Saginaw Bay Writing Project (SBWP) website, you can find a link to the original piece below. I’ve only corrected minor errors here.
What did I learn about myself as a teacher over the past year? First, I clearly understood just how fragile our everyday lives are – students, teachers, and administrators alike. Most people seem to have underestimated the power of their daily routine, their “normal.” I certainly did. Second, I learned just how much I continue to not know. I am still learning how to teach effectively online. Finally, I learned how to focus on what truly matters.
As 2019-2020 was my first full-year teaching, I continue to feel robbed. Plans for March is Reading Month, field trips, and so much more – all gone. Memories with my first 6th grade class never made. The little things still haunt me. I am a big believer in class read-alouds, and when we shut down for the school year in March 2020, I was in the middle of the first Percy Jackson book: Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan. My 6th graders adored the book, and I still regret the fact that I was unable to finish the book with them in-person – or continue the series.
If I still feel this way a year later, I can only imagine how my middle school students felt and continue to feel. There appears to be little to no concern regarding the impact prolonged shutdowns can have on emotional, social, and academic well-being. It just doesn’t seem to matter to anyone. Somewhere along the way, we lost our humanity. We, educators and students alike, are not alright.
As we entered the Lenten season this year, memories of last year came flooding back. On Friday, March 13th, 2020, as I participated in the Stations of the Cross with my students, we learned that we would not be coming back to school. Little did we know that we would not finish the year. The uncertainty, the miscommunication, and the worry will always stay with me. At the time, no one had any answers, only an endless list of questions.
During the lockdown, I worried about every single one of my students. Would they fall behind? How would they survive without seeing friends on a daily basis – or ever? I also learned what I didn’t know. No one taught me how to teach online. Yet, that is exactly what I did. I was not prepared last spring. When my class was quarantined this fall, I was still not fully prepared. Only now, in a virtual week built in after spring break, am I now beginning to feel as though I can somehow teach online. It took over a year.
I can’t imagine trying to navigate it all without faith. When I talk about faith, yes, I am referencing a higher power, but I am also referring to a general faith that everything will work out in the end. No matter where we are today as educators and students, there is hope for tomorrow. All hope is not lost. We can and should do better. We will. If given the choice between faith and fear, I choose faith.
Review: Madonna 40
On Friday evening March 31st, 2023, I joined scores of others to attend “Madonna 40” at the Delta College Planetarium. A sold out show, it was incredible – and a lot of fun! Designed to honor Madonna’s 40th anniversary of her first hit single “Holiday” and her always controversial place in Bay City history, it did not disappoint. My only wish: I would have thoroughly enjoyed another hour of her classic music videos and would have gladly paid accordingly. There is nothing quite like watching the music videos that made Madonna a superstar and an inspiration to a generation of girls and women, for better or worse, on the big screen. It is an experience I will never forget. Her early music will always be a part of the soundtrack to my early childhood memories. In designing the program, the following original, unedited music videos were shown in all of their ‘80s and early ‘90s glory:
- Material Girl (1984) (Video) (My Take)
- Vogue (1990) (Video)
- Papa Don’t Preach (1986) (Video)
- Like A Prayer (1989) (Video)
Frankly, the music video portion of the program outshone everything else. The videos have held up over nearly four decades. What struck me most in the vintage videos was Madonna herself. Definitely not model thin or “fat,” she exuded old-school glamor in “Material Girl,” “Vogue,” and “Like A Prayer” with the dance moves that made her famous. As for “Papa Don’t Preach,” she looks like any fresh-faced midwestern high school or college girl.
Personally, I felt that the organizers/designers missed a huge opportunity by not including at least the videos for both “Promise to Try” (1989), which was largely filmed at her mother’s gravesite in Kawkawlin, Michigan (just north of Bay City), and “This Used to Be My Playground” (1992), which was included on the A League of Their Own soundtrack and supposedly written about Bay City becoming her refuge after her mother’s untimely death. The only actual footage of Madonna in or near Bay City was not included in the program. How?
The next segment of the program, “Smelly Little Town,” is originally why I wanted to attend the event and even moved around my schedule to do so. Debuting as part of the Hell’s Half Mile Film and Music Festival in Bay City in 2021, I doubted I would ever have another opportunity to see it. Growing up with the controversy, knowing Bay City a little too well, and having been born in Bay City myself, I had to check it out.
First and foremost, it is quite possibly the most Bay City thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Let me just say this: It began and ended with scenes of people polka dancing at the St. Stan’s Polish festival to the Steve Drzewicki Band, both Bay City institutions. I half expected to see my ex’s parents go dancing on by. In general, the film did a decent job describing Bay City, covering all aspects of the “smelly little town” controversy with Madonna, and explaining how ever-corrupt Bay City small town politics is the answer as to why Bay City has never really been able to capitalize on the fact that it is the birthplace of Madonna.
For those who don’t know, Madonna Louise Ciccone was born at the former Mercy Hospital in Bay City, Michigan on August 16th, 1958. Madonna is her actual given name as she was named after her mother. Upon her mother’s tragic death in 1963, Madonna spent time in Bay City with her grandmother, who lived in the Banks area, then home to a nearby oil refinery (hence the “smelly little town” comment that caused such an uproar). To this day, there is very little commemorating Madonna in Bay City. Then again, this is the same city that passed on becoming home to a casino and a minor league ballpark, both of which went to nearby communities.
If something wonderful is planning on coming to Bay City, one can be sure that public outrage will ensue in some way, shape, or form. I am speaking from experience. When I moved back to Michigan with my ex, a Bay City native, in 2005, the controversy over the then new Wirt Public Library – a gorgeous new anchor for downtown Bay City – had yet to wane. While I agree it doesn’t have the history of the historic Sage Library in Bay City, people were genuinely upset over a beautiful new library downtown. I will never understand the mentality.
Then again, back in 2005, Michigan experienced a one-state recession which was about to turn into the Great Recession. 2008 is covered well in the documentary. It is rightfully called one of the darkest times in Bay City history, and frankly, I consider my life in Bay City (2005-2012) one of the darkest periods in my life as well. Yet, while Bay City is almost unrecognizable from that dark hour, there is still nothing formal honoring Madonna in the city.
As much as I wanted to see “Smelly Little Town,” I doubt it would have been half as entertaining if not for my own experiences with Bay City and my early love of Madonna’s music. In fact, much of it is forgettable. However, it did a good job highlighting the ridiculousness of the entire situation and Bay City politics. I actually understand the controversy now. A little explanation and context behind Madonna’s comments would have changed everything. In the same infamous 1985 interview with Jane Pauly, Madonna goes on to say that she has “great affection” for Bay City.
By the way, Bay City still is a “smelly little town.” In a hilarious coincidence, I happened to drive by the Michigan Sugar plant on Friday on my way to see “Madonna 40.” For those who don’t know, processing sugar beets can smell like hot garbage on a good day. Friday, as I drove by, it never smelled worse.
Clearly, Madonna’s relationship with Bay City remains complicated. I fully understand why. My love/hate relationship with Madonna – I will always love Madonna’s music, but question her methods of self-promotion – mirrors my love/hate relationship with Bay City itself. I do hope that she is commemorated in Bay City at some point. Not every small town can claim to be the birthplace of the best-selling female musical artist of all time.
By the way, if you want a quick, accurate outline of Madonna’s complex history with Bay City, the article below does a wonderful job of doing just that.
‘The Madonna Controversy’: Five facts about Bay City’s Material Girl you may not have known
Ramblings of a Misguided Blonde 