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Book Review: Confessions of a Prairie B*tch by Alison Arngrim (Audiobook)

Where do I begin? First, if you are or were a fan of The Little House on the Prairie TV show in the 70s and 80s, I can’t recommend this book enough. Be aware: This isn’t saccharine. Far from it. If you are easily offended, this probably isn’t for you. However, if you loved to hate Nellie as a little girl and wished each week for Laura to give Nellie exactly what she deserved – in spades – this book is for you. If you ever thought that playing the most outrageous villain possible on TV would be fun, once again, this book is for you. Last but not least, if you count Nellie Oleson and her overbearing mother Harriet among the favorite TV characters from your childhood, you need to read this book.

Frankly, both The Little House on the Prairie TV show and the children’s book series were a huge part of my childhood. I can’t imagine growing up without either. I do know that by 2nd grade, I was hooked. Mrs. Butz reading Little House in the Big Woods to our 2nd grade class saw to that. In early elementary school, I would fly off the bus to make sure I didn’t miss the start of Little House on the Prairie at 4 PM, in much the same way I made sure I was home at 4 PM during my high school years to watch Oprah. It was simply what I did, and I loved every minute of it.

I know that there are still a lot of adult fans of the show out there – millions of them, in fact – but I’m not really one of them. As an adult, I couldn’t get over the increasingly bizarre storylines that strayed further and further from the books – Albert’s opium addiction, anyone? Then there was the issue of no mountains in Minnesota, where the show was supposedly set, and the fact that the Ingalls family spent a big part of Laura’s childhood in DeSmet, South Dakota. In reality, the Ingalls family didn’t live in Walnut Grove for long. Still, there was something special about the show. It might be a little too sweet for my taste now, but back then, it was the best.

Nellie and Harriet made the show, of course. The Ingalls were so wholesome and down to earth that they needed Nellie and Harriet as foils. Personally, I think the show would not have worked without their over-the-top antics. They had to be just that outrageous. In the book, Alison talks lovingly about her TV parents. Supposedly, in real life, they were similar to their TV characters, although Katherine MacGregor (Harriet) was much nicer, even if just as bold. Alison’s descriptions of Katherine alone make the book worthwhile. As fun as Harriet was to watch, the best scenes were the ones in which Nellie and Laura actually fight.

About Laura and Nellie … in real life, Alison Arngrim (Nellie) and Melissa Gilbert (Laura) were best friends. They spent a lot of time together on and off set and at each other’s homes. One of their favorite pastimes happened to be simply appearing in public together. People freaked out. I can only imagine how much fun they had playing up their “rivalry.”

Alison’s antics with Melissa Gilbert are a great part of the book, but there is so much to unpack here. First, there is that voice. I chose to listen to the audiobook version as soon as I learned that she read her own book. As soon as I started listening, I knew I had made the right choice. Regardless, the book would have hit me with a huge wave of nostalgia, but Alison reading her book in a voice that I have always associated with childhood evil personified: priceless.

In all fairness to Alison, she comes across as extremely down to earth in her book to the point that I’d actually love to meet her. She spends quite some time discussing the perils and perks of playing one of TV’s greatest child villains. Can you imagine growing up playing a character people loved to hate? Once, during a publicity event at a private school, an event that she attended with Katherine MacGregor (Harriet Oleson), both in full costume, some of the students shoved her so hard that she laid face down on the pavement for a while until her father realized what had happened to her. He ended up taking her home immediately. It was the last time she attended a publicity event in costume. How do you deal with that all before adolescence?

**Alison Arngrim as Nellie Oleson with her TV mother, Katherine MacGregor as Harriet Oleson.**

In the book, Alison uses the trauma she experienced as a child as a way to frame her memoir. No, her trauma isn’t exactly what comes to mind with young stars and Hollywood, but sadly, it seems all the more common – and of course, very real. I’m not going to discuss it here for many reasons; the main one being that, in a way, it is the point of her memoir. I don’t want to spoil it for those who haven’t read it. She has used that trauma to try and help prevent others from experiencing the same thing. In essence, she uses her “inner b*tch” to create real legislative change in an effort to protect kids – all kids.

One of the more interesting tidbits I learned in the book is the history behind why the TV show deviated so much from the books. Michael Landon supposedly exclaimed at one time: “My God! Have you actually read the books? There are descriptions of churning butter!” In other words, they had to up the action. I get it, I do. What makes a great book doesn’t necessarily make great television.

I suppose that’s what has always bothered me about the TV show. As an aspiring writer, it sickened me to think what happened to Laura Ingalls Wilder’s original work. Now, older and wiser, I can see the value of the TV show too. I am sure it inspired millions of kids to pick up the original books. All publicity is good publicity, right? For people who grew up with the TV show, I can’t recommend Confessions of a Prairie B*tch enough. There are so many great aspects to Alison Arngrim’s memoir. It is a wonderful combination of nostalgia, good story, and humor. By the way, Alison’s voice impression of Melissa Gilbert is hilarious. Several other memoirs have been written by the child stars of Little House on the Prairie. In fact, I plan on reading both of Melissa Gilbert’s books. I will be surprised if Confessions of a Prairie B*tch doesn’t remain my favorite.

Don McLean – American Pie (1971)

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Don McLean – American Pie (1971) (Video) (Lyrics)

(Written February 6, 2023)

This Day in History – The Day The Music Died

The Day The Music Died (Earlier Blog Post – Documentary)

What can I say about Don McLean’s American Pie that hasn’t already been said? Not much, actually. Yet, that song is so ingrained in my love of music, my childhood, and more. It can safely be called Americana at this point – a modern American folk song in the best sense of the term.

I couldn’t tell you the first time I heard the song, but I have always loved it and could deeply visualize the lyrics. For whatever reason, I imagined the high school gym as the same high school gym where I’d watched my dad play old man basketball countless times as a preschooler – his alma mater – Arenac Eastern High School in Twining, MI. I think it has something to do with how rural the setting appears to be in the song. Sadly, Arenac Eastern High School no longer exists. The building, now a community center, still sits among acres of farm land and a tiny village. When I think of the quintessential rural American high school, Arenac Eastern immediately comes to mind. It has always felt like stepping back in time and into my family history.

Whatever the case may be, I do know that I had the lyrics practically memorized by 4th grade. Mrs. Currie, my 4th grade teacher and my first teacher at Standish Elementary, used the lyrics to teach us the terms “levee” and “dirge.” In fact, at this point, I can’t listen to the song without thinking about 4th grade and Mrs. Currie. None of the kids were getting it. She then began to sing the song, basically saying “Come on! You know the song.” Except, they didn’t. As I remember it, I was the only kid who knew the song and lyrics – at least well enough for the purposes of her vocabulary lesson. It was funny, irrelevant, and frankly, kind of summed up that school year.

Years later, as a substitute teacher, I had the opportunity, with a bit of caution and specific directions from the regular classroom teacher, to show high school Spanish students the movie La Bamba. After the movie, I had just enough time to explain the term “the day the music died” and the lyrics to American Pie. They left singing Oh Donna, moved by the true story, which completely took me by surprise. It also happened to cement it in my memory.

February 3rd, 1959 – “The day the music died” – (L to R) Buddy Holly, JP Richardson (the Big Bopper), and Ritchie Valens died in an airplane accident, traveling over Iowa as part of the Winter Dance Party Tour.

I’m glad that I had the opportunity to explain the lyrics to American Pie and help them make the connection. I may have known the song longer than I care to remember, but it wasn’t all that long ago that I learned that the lyrics referenced a true tragedy, much less the death of Buddy Holly, JP Richardson (the Big Bopper), and Ritchie Valens. I suppose that is the true tragedy of American Pie: What if they had lived?

The musical legacy of Buddy Holly, of course, is staggering. Modern pop and rock music would not have evolved in quite the same way without him and the Crickets. He inspired the Beatles to write their own music, among countless others. In fact, it could be said that Buddy Holly was one of the main influences of what became known as the British invasion. JP Richardson (the Big Bopper) and Ritchie Valens were just getting started. Again, what if?

If nothing else, American Pie taught me that lyrics can indeed be a form of poetry.

Lou Diamond Phillips (Ritchie Valens) and Danielle von Zerneck (Donna Ludwig) in a car in a scene from the film ‘La Bamba’, 1987.
(Photo by Columbia Pictures/Getty Images)

The Ronettes – Be My Baby (1963)

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The Ronettes – Be My Baby (1963) (Video) (Lyrics)

(Written January 23, 2023)

If you stick around long enough, you’ll realize just how much I adore the Motown girl groups of the early ‘60s. Yet, Be My Baby by the Ronettes is perhaps my favorite. There is something downright haunting about the song and Ronnie Spector’s voice. In fact, some of my favorite Christmas songs are versions sung by the Ronettes as well.

Be My Baby demonstrates Phil Spector’s wall of sound so well. In fact, I can’t imagine the Ronettes sound without it. Yet, here I am probably the only person on the planet under the age of 50 to know what Phil Spector’s wall of sound is or who Phil Spector was. The funny thing is that it didn’t always work so well. I normally love it in the girl group music he helped produce, and yet, The Long and Winding Road and most of the Let It Be (1970) album is overproduced. I actually understood why the Beatles, led by Paul McCartney, released a stripped down version called Let It Be… Naked (2003) decades later, reimagining the entire album without Spector’s wall of sound. I actually prefer Naked.

Sadly, Ronnie, who happened to have befriended the Beatles at the height of their (and her) fame, passed away in January 2022. Her legacy lives on, and frankly, I can’t imagine a time when Be My Baby won’t be considered an absolute pop gem.

The Mixtapes – The History

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In designing The Mixtapes, several things inspired me. First up, JamsBio, which I’ve discussed a little here. Back in 2006/2007, I had the opportunity to write a series of articles for JamsBio, an online magazine celebrating the love of music, outlining my favorite songs/artists and what music meant to me. I only wrote ten articles and JamsBio didn’t last, but it was the most fun I have ever had working, not to mention the easiest money I’ve ever made. While I still wish I had thought to save those original articles, with The Mixtapes, I have the opportunity to start anew and build it correctly this time.

JamsBio isn’t the only inspiration. As a teenager, I religiously watched Ali McBeal with my mom. The show began each episode with Vonda Shephard playing a song that highlighted something on Ali’s mind. It popularized the idea of a soundtrack to one’s life, and frankly, that idea never really left me. Consider this that soundtrack.

Then there is Paul McCartney. It is no secret that I am a huge Beatles, Wings, and Paul McCartney fan. Do I love everything the man has ever done? Not exactly. Yet, he (and all of the Beatles) will always be in a category of their own. Anyway, Paul McCartney published The Lyrics: 1956 to the Present in 2022. While I have yet to read it (I know, I know …), the idea is incredible to me. Essentially, Paul McCartney wrote a memoir that consists of the stories behind 154 of the songs he wrote. It covers songs from all parts of his career – Beatles, Wings, solo, etc. I can’t imagine a better gift to fans. Even better, there is a Spotify playlist that covers all of the songs in The Lyrics in the order they appear in the book (alphabetically by song title). When I finally do read it, I will be able to listen along as well.

So there you have it, the inspiration behind The Mixtapes. Enjoy and feel free to share your own memories.

2023: The Year Ahead – Music and Books

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Over the last several months, I’ve given plenty of thought of where I’d like to take Ramblings of a Misguided Blonde. For years, I’ve wanted to incorporate my love of music into my writing. The issue is that quoting song lyrics, even with proper attribution, can be seen as copyright infringement. Yet, I want to share some of my favorite songs and the memories they represent.

Early childhood and dolls aside, my favorite Christmas and birthday gifts all related to music – everything from my earliest Fisher Price record player and tape player to various albums/tapes/CDs, to my last Sony Discman. They were all used and abused. In fact, there were times I had to repurchase CDs due to overuse and sand. I replaced several Sony Discman due to the same issue.

I owned a mint green, slightly larger version of this radio/tape player as kid. It was one of my favorites!

Enter the mixtape. See, I am just old enough to remember how fun it was to listen to the radio long after my parents went to bed in order to record my favorite songs. I’m thinking of creating a category here that will serve as a mix tape of sorts. On a separate Mixtape page, I will outline and categorize my favorite songs and albums. Each link to to song or album title will include a passage about that particular song/album, along with links to lyrics and official music videos. I am beyond excited about this, and I am looking forward to seeing this project take off. It will take time.

In addition, my reading life has really taken off. I’ve read so many wonderful books lately. I’ve been thinking about how to best share it all with you. I plan to start sharing book reviews again as well. Stay tuned! Right now, I am working on how best to do this. I’ve researched the tools. Now it is a matter of figuring out what works out best for me – and you, the readers.

Here’s to a productive – and FUN! – 2023!

This is quite possibly the most 1999 thing I’ve ever come across.
It immediately takes me back to the summer of 1999. You can listen to it here.

Hitting the Road

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I’ve always loved traveling, no matter how short or long the trip. This wanderlust has taken me on so many wonderful adventures over the years, and fortunately for me, so many of my best childhood memories were made hitting the road with Grandma Reid. The woman just loved to go. She rarely spent time at home, at least until age caught up with her. In fact, she spent over forty years selling women’s clothing from a variety of catalog companies. So many of her customers were housewives who lived out in Michigan’s Thumb. She’d drive to her customers, bags and bags of clothing samples in tow. She quit selling in the early/mid-1990s only due to the fact that she could no longer find a quality company to represent. The last company she carried sold more home goods than clothing. Unfortunately, the quality was nothing compared to the companies she worked for during the 1950s-1980s. Even as a teenager, I loved to go clothes shopping with Grandma. She had a way of helping you find the right fit and could be brutally honest if need be. I learned to love the road and basics of business, at least in part, at my grandmother’s knee.

During my preschool years, Grandma would pick me up from time to time. At the time, I was used to her late ‘70s/early ‘80s blue Chysler station wagon, the same one that I tried to make Grandpa Reid promise to take care of as it was now his. If you knew Grandpa Owen, it was a futile effort, even if asked by his adorable granddaughter. I can still envision the station wagon parked underneath the old apple tree at the canoe livery – or as we always called it, the park – Grandpa napping in the backseat in the heat of a Michigan summer.

The Chrysler minivan on display at the Henry Ford.

“1984 Plymouth Voyager Minivan by Chrysler – The Henry Ford – Engines Exposed Exhibit 2-22-2016 (1)” by Corvair Owner is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.

Then one day, I couldn’t find Grandma’s station wagon in the preschool parking lot. Grandma’s new vehicle was one for the books. She purchased one of the first Chrysler minivans, and what a vehicle it was! I have no idea how many miles she put on the thing, but I do know that she replaced the engine at one point. She finally totaled it in the early 90s in an accident on her way to one of my sister’s softball games. That iconic tan minivan, when it was finally put to rest, represented the passing of an era.

What makes certain vehicles from our childhood so damn memorable? I wrote a piece about my first car, which my mom drove for a large chunk of my childhood. I could write something similar about my dad’s ‘77 Freewheelin’ Ford Bronco, his green Jeep Grand Cherokee that my sister inherited as her first vehicle, or even the lemon fullsize blue Ford van with the squealing fan belt that hung around the canoe livery forever – the one we drove to Florida to Walt Disney World. It isn’t the vehicles so much as the journeys and times they represent.

Last spring, touring the Henry Ford Museum for the first time with my middle school students, I was taken back by a veritable wave of nostalgia seeing one of first Chrysler minivans (in this case, a Plymouth Voyager – almost identical to the first Dodge Caravans) at the end of a long line of evolving family vehicles. It stopped me for a moment. All it needed was a tan paint job/interior and Dodge badging to be Grandma’s minivan of my childhood.

More than anything, that minivan represents, at least to me, countless trips to the movies, Lutz’s Funland in Au Gres, putt-putt golf in Tawas, ice cream runs, and the Bear Track. I think of the infamous trip to Kings Island in Ohio where Mom and Grandma tried to remain calm as we were caught in an awful storm. We were parked, Grandma had her foot on the brake, and the van was still shaking. How many trips to weddings, family reunions, and showers did I take with her in that van? Last, but not least, we took Grandma’s van to the airport on our infamous trip to Aruba with Dad, Erica, Emily Lammy, Grandma, and Dean Gillette (Mom was too pregnant with Garrett to fly) for New Year 1991. On the way home, something was wrong with the van, and we could only travel in 15 minute spurts. I thought we’d never get home, but eventually, we arrived.

Grandma knew how to make any trip fun. It wouldn’t be a summer adventure if we didn’t stop for ice cream. On one such occasion, we’d stopped for ice cream after hitting a local amusement park for putt-putt and go-karts. Per usual, Grandma had a van full. In addition to my sister and I, cousins Michael and Linda were there as well, and I may even be forgetting someone. As we are enjoying ice cream on the way home, suddenly my sister’s ice cream falls off of its cone squarely into Michael’s hand. We had to pull over we were laughing so hard, especially Grandma. Now well into our 30s and 40s, the ice cream incident is still mentioned from time to time. Something about it was so incredibly funny, or as Grandma would say, comical.

Now, I’m the one who is rarely home. I’m the one “running the roads” as my dad would say. I hope to make the same kind of road memories with my niece and nephews as they grow up, but that is more my mom’s territory, for now. I normally tag along in her car, playing navigator if need be. Maybe one day they will reminisce about all the Buick Enclaves in our family at the moment (3 and counting) or Uncle Garrett’s Avalanche.

At this point, I doubt my love of the road will ever die. Thank you, Grandma.

The Cottage

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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.

BANNED BOOKS: Looking for Alaska by John Green

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I adore John Green, both as an author and as host of “Crash Course History” videos. For those who don’t know, he is the best selling author of young adult hits such as The Fault in Our Stars and Looking for Alaska. Even though I read The Fault in Our Stars well into middle age, it left a deep impression on me. I discuss the influence in Dear D., Continued – Revisited, quoting the book.

Unfortunately, all is not well with John Green. Last week I came across the article below discussing how Looking for Alaska is being challenged in his hometown of Orange County, Florida You can read the article below.

John Green’s First Novel May Be Banned At His Old School

Frankly, this isn’t about John Green or Looking for Alaska; it is all about banning books. I don’t care what anyone’s personal political views may be, banning books should have no place in the United States of America. I love that libraries have Banned Book Week and have expanded on the idea. Some of the best books I have ever read have been challenged over the years. Personally, I believe that any good library should have something to offend everyone. Outright banning of books is disgusting to me.

As a teacher, I do have to clarify something though. Banning books in a library or even a school library is completely different from deciding which books are taught in the classroom. While I believe that all students should have access to as wide variety of books as possible, parents should be able to have options if they have concerns regarding books their child is reading in the classroom. However, one parent’s objections should not be forced on to everyone else. Ideally, a resolution should be agreed upon by the teacher, parent(s), and administration. Why do we have to make it so complicated?

That is about it: My little political rant for the week. I just hope that people come to their senses and realize that it is OK if not everyone views things the same way. That is the beauty of living in a complex society. We as a society need to relearn that we don’t have to agree on everything.

All Things Michigan

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**Lake Superior shoreline – Photo Credit: photosforclass.com**

Here are a few Michigan-centric websites I’ve come across over the last week.

Check them out!

Mysterious Michigan –

Lots of great paranormal stories set in Michigan. Just in time for Halloween! You can find my piece on The Witchy Wolves of the Omer Plains there as well.

The site started out back in 2006 as Michigan’s Otherside.

Amberrose Hammond –

Amberrose Hammond is the woman behind Mysterious Michigan. This personal site outlines her work, books, and much more.

Lake Fury –

Ric Mixter and Dan Hall’s website discussing all things shipwreck on the Great Lakes. I had the opportunity to hear Ric Mixter’s talk on the sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald last week. Absolutely fascinating.

Shipwreck Podcasts –

Ric Mixter’s free and premium podcasts covering shipwrecks all over the Great Lakes (and beyond), the infamous and the not-so-famous. You can also find a list of Ric Mixter’s upcoming appearances/topics.

**Lake Superior beach gravel – Photo Credit: photosforclass.com**

Marshall Fredericks Museum @ Saginaw Valley State University

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“The Man on the Cross” mold on display at the Marshall Fredericks Museum at Saginaw Valley State University. The original sculpture resides at the Cross in the Woods in Indian River, Michigan.
Photo Credit: Lindsey Russell

The Marshall Fredericks Museum at Saginaw Valley State University (SVSU) is one of my favorite museums. Considering its size, it is jam packed. Over the years, I’ve visited the museum a handful of times, and I always leave inspired. There is so much to see, and frankly, it is impressive to see the results of such a long and varied career in sculpture. At one time, Grandma B. and I talked about the museum, and she said that she always wanted to visit. Unfortunately, she never took the opportunity. I can’t help but think of her every time I am there.

One of my favorite Marshall Fredericks sculptures is “The Man on the Cross,” which resides at the National Shrine of the Cross in the Woods in Indian River, Michigan. I’ve seen it in person (the full-size mold resides in the art gallery at SVSU, see below), and it is something that one needs to experience in person. I plan to go back at some point. It is gorgeous and moving.

As I left class today (I’m currently finishing my English endorsement at SVSU), I decided to head over the museum. It did not disappoint. Following is a quick overview of different sections of the museum.

Main Gallery

The main gallery includes the original molds for many of Marshall Fredericks’ larger works, including “The Man on the Cross” (see photo below), interspersed with smaller models in various mediums. All are on permanent display and make up the core of the museum.

The molds for the “Sinners and Saints” sculpture. The original resides in the Sinners and Saints lounge at the nearby Midland Center for the Arts.
Photo Credit: Lindsey Russell

Marshall Fredericks also sculptured many animals throughout his career. This frog is one of my favorites.
I believe the original ended up in a children’s garden.
Photo Credit: Lindsey Russell

The Studio

The museum has taken great care to replicate parts of Marshall Fredericks’ studio. It is impressive, and frankly, there is something about this part of the museum that fascinates me. You get to understand how he created such large sculptures and the work involved, including tools and studies. It actually inspired me to write a post on Scrivener and the idea of a writer’s studio, which can be found here.

Display helping to recreate Marshall Fredericks’ studio. Photo Credit: Lindsey Russell

Another view of the studio. Photo Credit: Lindsey Russell

The Sculpture Garden

It is just a beautiful outdoor space with all kinds of bronze sculptures inspired by Marshall Fredericks’ work. You can find other images of the sculpture garden here.

Mowgli and Baloo in the sculpture garden.
Photo Credit: Lindsey Russell

A visit to the museum is certainly worth it. In addition to the sections described above, there are also a couple of smaller galleries in the museum that hold rotating exhibitions. You can find more information on the museum’s website.