Tag Archives: Michigan

Faster. Better. Cheaper.

Little known fact: The US military is the largest supply chain in the world.

My supply chain management education will always color the way I view things.  At times, I wish it didn’t.  In education, I like to believe that most students will find their way, eventually.  Most will find their purpose.  I feel for those who don’t, but it is a reality of life.  There are always those who remain lost, and sadly, I’ve known a few.  I can help, but I can’t be everything to everyone.

With supply chain issues, there is a solution.  There is always a solution.  We just need the resolve to follow through and make necessary changes.  We learned so many supply chain and economic lessons from the Greatest Generation and World War II, but as that generation passed away, I fear that we have lost those lessons or even ignored them completely.

Let me start at the beginning.  I am deeply proud to come from a long line of entrepreneurs.  I long idolized my dad and Grandpa Buttrick.  Both owned and ran their own companies and were self-employed, as different as their companies were and still are.  My dad developed Russell Canoe Livery around our family and our lifestyle.  He had no desire to build it beyond what it is now, even if we had the opportunity.  

Grandpa, on the other hand, loved to build.  He expanded his convenience store business into screen printing, Subway franchises, propane, hotels, and more.  He even loved to compete against himself from time to time.  As a child who loved to build, I took notice.  In having the opportunity to manage one of his convenience stores for a few years, I am grateful to have learned just why Grandpa loved the c-store business so much.  Ultimately, it helped me become a better manager at the canoe livery and a more empathetic boss.

While this cover is exactly how I remember it, it must be an updated version!
No WI-Fi in the 80s and 90s!

As a child, one of the most fascinating books I owned was The Way Things Work by David Macaulay.  I wanted to know how and why things worked.  Looking back, this helps explain why I chose supply chain.  It fit the bill.  I knew I didn’t want to study management.  I wanted to know exactly how value was added, and not just become increasingly removed from day-to-day operations that actually pay the bills.  Accounting and finance never even entered the picture.  In fact, my mom and I joke that we would starve if we had to try and make a living as accountants.  I am decent at math, but I make errors far too often, and it is not my thing.

I do have two older cousins who earned supply chain degrees from Michigan State and blazed the trail, but as my older cousin Emily tried to sell me on supply chain, it made me look at the program more critically.  Instead, my experiences at the Broad Business Student Camp (BBSC) after my junior year of high school sold me on Michigan State and supply chain management.  During that week attending BBSC, I had the opportunity to explore State’s incomparable campus, everything the Eli Broad College of Business had to offer, as well as all things supply chain.  In short, I had the opportunity to preview what my life would be like as a Michigan State business student with one of my best friends.  What was not to like?  By the time my parents dropped me off at MSU in August of 1999, I had to kick them out of my dorm room as I had already connected with student groups in the business school, and I was not going to be late for the first meeting.

Now you know why I never wavered in my pursuit of my supply chain degree, in spite of the fact that, deep down, I knew that I wanted to be a teacher as well.  As for the deeper lessons that stayed with me and kept me up at night, it all started with a business history class I took during the winter of 2000, the very heights of the dot.com bubble.  In fact, the bubble burst that consumed that spring forced me to pay attention.  My history professor, in fact, predicted the fall of the stock market (the dot.com bubble) publicly almost as soon as classes started in January.  When it finally happened in March, as a 19 year old, it left a deep impression.  However, as memorable as that experience was, this is not primarily why I remember this class 25 years later.

Instead, my professor’s description and explanation of how Detroit became the “arsenal of democracy” still sends shivers down my spine.  He made the case that the United States and the Allies would not have won World War II without Detroit.  While I knew Detroit played an important part in the war, I didn’t realize just how important.  Supposedly, when Hitler received intelligence of manufacturing totals coming out of Detroit, he didn’t believe it.  Those who had gained manufacturing experience in cities like Detroit, especially Detroit, would turn their focus to the war effort.

When you think of the manufacturing capability we had during that time, the early 20th century, it makes sense. We were able to help supply Great Britain long before we officially entered the war after Pearl Harbor.  Thanks to FDR, we switched from manufacturing consumer goods to munitions.  We went from cars and refrigerators to tanks and aircraft.  This is the question that keeps me up at night:  Would we be able to do so again if faced with such a crisis?  I don’t know.

Actually, I doubt it, as the way things are now.  Born at the end of 1980, I’ve watched my entire life as Michigan lived up to its “rust belt” image.  Most of the business professionals I graduated with in 2004, me included, had to relocate to states such as Texas and California to find jobs.  When my parents graduated from college in the late 70s, there were still good manufacturing jobs to be had right out of high school, although that would soon come to an end.  I grew up hearing of plant closures, manufacturing outsourcing, and general loss of manufacturing capability in the United States.  It is all I knew. By the time I sought to start my career, little remained.  Instead, less secure positions with multinationals outsourcing much of their labor to places like China, Mexico, and India took their place, particularly in the shadow of the first dot.com bust.

By the time I interned with IBM out in Rochester, Minnesota during the summer of 2001, not only did they not have enough for their interns to do, their full-time, permanent employees didn’t either.  Instead, they were focusing on their garage bands and updating their resumes.  In 2003, as part of a tour of a GM factory in Mexico near the border, I vividly remember seeing rows upon rows upon rows of brand new Pontiac Azteks and Buick Rendezvous awaiting shipment as our chartered bus slowly approached the plant.  Looking back, it foreshadowed Pontiacs epic downfall several years later. Tragically, Pontiac would never recover from the monstrosity that was the Pontiac Aztek.

My last semester at Michigan State in 2004 brought the Eli Broad College of Business’s first Chinese Supply Chain Symposium.  Of course, it focused on all of the wonderful benefits of outsourcing manufacturing to China.  I left wondering if I was the only one asking just how long before we were outsourcing our own jobs?  Where and when would it end?  Was I the only one seeing the connection between outsourcing and both unemployment and underemployment in the United States?

Even Russell Canoe Livery has a supply chain,
one with its own set of challenges and setbacks.

I will leave you with this summary.  We desperately need to bring manufacturing back to this country.  If you think the supply chain interruptions during the COVID 19 pandemic were bad (and I followed them closely), what would happen in the case of an even worse global crisis?  Good manufacturing jobs helped finance the growth of the middle class throughout most of the 20th century, particularly after World War II.  Why can’t we get back there?  We’ve learned so much during that time, and we have the workforce, if given a chance.  I hope I live to see it.  By the way, this doesn’t mean becoming isolationist.  It is simply expanding beyond the pharmaceutical, technology, and service industries.  Supporting local farms wouldn’t hurt either!  Cheap is good, but it is not always best in the long-run.  We’ve remained far too short-sighted and complacent for far too long.

Mom, Dad, and I – Spring 2001
Tower Guard Induction – Beaumont Tower, Michigan State University
In honor of Grandma Reid, who worked as a riveter in both Hamtramck, MI and Fort Worth, TX during the World War II era, all before the age of 20.

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.

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.

For the Love of Baseball

The post was originally published on an earlier version of my blog.  I’ve slightly updated and modified the post.  Anything in bold I added to the original post.  Tigers’ opening day is April 5th at Comerica Park!  GO Tigers!

I’ve tried writing this post several times over the last several years.  Sometimes there is so much to say, no mere words can do the subject justice.  Somewhere along the line, somewhere between childhood and adulthood, I forgot what baseball once meant to me.  I also forgot just how intertwined baseball is with some of my favorite childhood memories.

Back in 2012, it all started with me getting the crazy idea that my baseball obsessed ex-boyfriend Brian and I should watch the Ken Burns’ documentary Baseball – all almost 20 hours of it.  I checked it out from the library sometime early in September 2012.  Brian and I then spent the next couple of weeks watching the entire documentary, including great interviews with Bob Costas, Yogi Berra, and Rachel Robinson, the widow of Jackie Robinson, among others.

For me, the most memorable part of the series had to be the clip of Bob Costas discussing his first experience at Yankee Stadium with his father.  As a young child, he was awed by the sheer size of the stadium and the size of the pitching mound.  After the game, fans back then could cross the field to a second exit.  As Bob Costas and his father crossed the field, he became very upset.  He loved baseball so much that somewhere during his childhood, he got the idea that Yankee greats such as Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig were buried on the field.  He didn’t want to disturb what he believed to be their graves.  The stories of baseball memories bringing together fathers and sons, as well as fathers and daughters, stayed with me.

Mom, Dad, and I ~ 1983

Dad sporting his lucky #3 hat.
Some of my earliest memories are of watching the Detroit Tigers on TV with my dad.

I found myself asking why baseball is so different from football, hockey, or basketball.  I’m not sure, but I do know this:  there is something about baseball that transcends time.  I have memories of watching the Red Wings win the Stanley Cup in 1996 and 1997 with Dad, as well as countless other games, but my most powerful memories all relate to baseball.

Many of my earliest memories of Dad involve baseball.  As a very young child, I remember watching the Detroit Tigers with Dad and eating Schwann’s black cherry ice cream.  Somehow, Dad ended up attending one of the 1984 World Series games at Tiger Stadium.  At that game, he bought a signed baseball that sat on the roll-top desk in his office for years.  In fact, it might still be there.  I loved that baseball and thought that it was amazing that Dad attended one of the World Series games.  I also remember rummaging through the top drawer of Dad’s desk and coming across his father’s Masonic ring.  In the eyes of a young girl, the Masonic symbol was a baseball diamond.  Above all, there were the games.

My youngest nephew, Owen, sporting lucky #3 and keeping the tradition alive, even if it is his basketball jersey. Dad always seemed to end up as #3.

Throughout my early childhood, Dad, a former high school athlete who played football, basketball, and baseball, played on a men’s softball team.  As a preschooler, I loved watching Dad play ball.  I liked the entire experience.  I was so proud to have Dad out there in his lucky #3 baseball hat with his well-worn glove.  I loved watching him bat.

Of course, it wasn’t just about baseball.  I also loved playing in the dirt next to the dugout, running around the poker straight pine trees behind the dugout, and playing with the old-fashioned water pump between the dugout and the pines.  More than anything, I loved going to the bar with everyone after the games.  As Dad and his friends, along with their wives and girlfriends, drank pitchers of beer and talked, I played pinball, foosball, Pac Man, and enjoyed pop and chips.  It is no wonder I could relate to adults well as a child.  I spent a lot of time around adults and enjoyed every minute of it.

I also loved spending time at my grandparents’ house.  A trip to my dad’s parents’ home wouldn’t be complete without spending time with their neighbor’s son, Brian K.  We were the same age, and he happened to have something I wanted desperately as a child, a tree house!  I vividly remember one afternoon spent playing in his tree house.  His dog somehow came off his lead, and I became scared as I really didn’t know his dog.  Brian K. told me to hang out in the tree house until he chained up the dog.

That day, his mom invited me to attend one of Brian K.’s Little League game with his family – a big deal in the eyes of a six year-old!  I felt honored to be sitting on the sidelines cheering on Brian K. along with his parents.  At the time, of course, I wanted to be out there on the field too.  While I did play softball for one season at age 11, I am no athlete.  Grandpa Reid, who loved to watch me play, insisted he never saw anyone walk more than I did.  As I’ve always been exceedingly short, no one ever learned how to pitch to me.  Instead, I collected baseball cards.

I’m not exactly sure when and why I started collecting baseball cards, but my favorite will always be the Topps 1987 wood grain cards.  They remind me of Grandpa B.  My maternal great-grandparents owned a cottage on Sage Lake in northern Michigan.  I spent many summer weekends there with my parents, my siblings, my grandparents, and much of my extended family.  At the cottage, Grandpa loved to get all of us grandkids, all girls at the time, in his station wagon to take us to the pop shop.  He let us pick out whatever we wanted.  I picked out baseball cards to add to my collection, mainly ’87 Topps.  I still have my baseball card collection and fond memories of Grandpa asking me if I was sure that is what I wanted.

I loved everything about collecting baseball cards:  organizing them by team, deciding which packs of cards to purchase, and looking up prices. All fun!  It is fitting that I lost interest in collecting cards as I became a teenager.  My last full set dates to the strike-shortened 1994 season.  Around that time, I lost interest in baseball.  Coincidentally, it is also the same year the local IGA, my favorite place to purchase cards, closed.

That same year, Dad took Erica, Garrett, and me to a Tigers game at Tiger Stadium on the corner of Michigan and Trumbull.  That day happened to be Little League Day.  My Dad knew this, so he had my sister wear her softball shirt, my brother his t-ball shirt and hat, and me my old softball shirt.  As a result, we had the opportunity to go out onto the field before the game.  I’ll never forget looking back at the stands of old Tiger Stadium from the field.  I’m grateful to Dad for ensuring his kids had that experience.  There is nothing better than going to a baseball game with your dad.  Having the opportunity to get out on the field of a historic stadium made it that much better.  Somehow I lost interest in the game, but it is still there, was always there, waiting to be rediscovered.

I’m looking forward to cheering on the two below this spring!

Ernie Harwell ~ The voice of Tigers’ Baseball for decades, narrating many summer road trips, especially with Grandma Reid.

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!

Author Profile: Anne-Marie Oomen

Michigan author Anne-Marie Oomen visited Saginaw Valley State University
and the surrounding area in April.

Anne-Marie Oomen

I am ashamed to admit it, but I have yet to fully read one of Anne-Marie Oomen’s memoirs or books of poetry, even though I own two of her books (signed) and have attended a couple of her writing sessions (one for teachers and other, this past spring, open to the general public), as well as a reading from her latest book, As Long As I Know You:  The Mom Book.  I’ve only read and heard snippets of her work … so far.

What I’ve read and heard thus far is wonderful, and knowing the topics/subjects/genre included in many of her books, I know that I will love them.  How could I not purchase a book titled Love, Sex, and 4-H?  Then there is As Long As I Know You:  The Mom Book.  I can’t wait to read it.  The passages that she read during her author event, along with the anecdotes she shared about herself, her mom, and writing the book, definitely left me hooked.

What I really want to discuss today is her capacity as a teacher.  Just over a month prior to the shutdown orders signaling the official start of the pandemic, I had the opportunity to attend a day-long writing program aimed at teachers.  Titled “Homecoming:  Coming Home,” it was sponsored by the Saginaw Bay Writing Project.  Anne-Marie Oomen happened to be one of the presenters that morning.

During her allotted time, she taught us the term ekphrasis – a method of using different works of art to create various forms of writing, whether poetry, personal essay, or short story.  Imagine studying a painting and then creating a poem from your experience.  That is ekphrasis.

After explaining the process and providing us with examples of her own work, Anne-Marie Oomen had us create our own art inspired piece.  She brought with her a large collection of postcards.  I chose one with a portrait of Annie Oakley on the front, “little sure-shot.”  I enjoyed the experience and still have a digital copy of her presentation from that day.  I left realizing that I could easily create vision boards on Pinterest to gather my thoughts and ideas for various writing projects.

Anne-Marie Oomen used the painting Nighthawks by Edward Hopper
to demonstrate the process of ekphrasis.

As wonderful as that experience was, a few months ago I learned that Anne-Marie Oomen was to be a guest scholar at Saginaw Valley State University.  During that time, she conducted a similar writing session open to the general public at the Marshall Fredericks Museum on SVSU’s campus.  I am so glad that I attended.  It made me look at one of my favorite museums in an entirely different light.  I left with a notebook full of ideas and even a rough draft.  The following evening, Anne-Marie Oomen held a reading at the Wirt Public Library in Bay City, sharing snippets from As Long As I Know You:  The Mom Book.  I’m so glad that I attended as it brought back so many memories of the short few months I had living with Grandma Reid before she needed more care than I could provide.  It is never easy watching someone you love age and decline.

I took something away from each of Anne-Marie Oomen’s events.  On top of sharing her love and knowledge of writing, she is a wonderful teacher.  Better yet … she is a Michigan author willing to help aspiring writers and teachers.

Anne-Marie Oomen’s latest book As Long as I Know You: The Mom Book details her experience dealing with her relationship with aging mother.

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.

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.

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:

A still from arguably Madonna’s most iconic music video, Material Girl (1984).

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.

This mural in downtown Bay City was privately funded and tucked away on a small side street.

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