At times, the ending of a TV series works, and at others, it doesn’t (I’m looking at you Seinfeld!). When Cheers aired its final episode in May 1993, I watched. I remember Shelley Long (Diane) returning and the cast partying as it aired (infamously so), but I do not remember it being so poignant. The final scenes with Sam and Norm, and later, Sam alone in the bar, are now among my favorite TV series endings of all time.
Growing up, I adored Cheers. I watched it with my parents every week. As an adult, I rewatched the series. The characters still hold up. It wasn’t just the main characters – Sam, Diane, Coach, Carla, Woody, and Rebecca – that drew us back every week, but an entire complimentary cast of characters capable of anything – Norm and Cliff, not to mention Frasier and Lillith. The episode in which we met Lillith remains one of the funniest. Throughout the rest of the series, Dr. Lilith Sternin-Crane developed into one of the funniest and quirkiest female characters on TV. She is still one of my favorite TV characters after all these decades.
Who can forget Lilith? Enough said.
Aside from all of the laughs and hijinks throughout the series, the humanity of all of the characters (every last one deeply flawed) shined through. Yet, the last scenes of the final episode hit me right in the gut. It isn’t every day that a TV show can make you deeply and profoundly appreciate what you have.
It starts innocently enough. Norm stays after everyone else heads out after welcoming Sam back to the bar after escaping marriage to Daine yet again. He didn’t want anyone else to hear what he has to say, and he’s up for one last beer, of course. He tells Sam that love is the true meaning of life. He continues to state that people are always faithful to their one true love, that he’d be unable to be unfaithful to her. When Sam asks whom that would be, Norm simply states “Think about it, Sam,” smiles, and leaves, setting up the final shots of Sam in the bar alone.
Alone in his bar, Sam slowly realizes that it is his bar that is the love of his life. He recognizes just how much it, and all those in it, mean to him. He even straightens Coach’s framed portrait of Geronimo before closing up. In a clever twist, the final shot of Sam closing up and heading towards the back entrance of the bar mirrors the opening of the series in which Sam makes his way to the front of the bar as he is opening up for the day.
Nearly 30 years ago … Working with Grandma Reid at the canoe livery.
All I can say is this: As someone who has spent her entire life watching her parents and grandparents build a family business – and as someone who will one day fully take over said business with her brother – I get it. Boy, do I ever get it. I can’t imagine my life without the canoe livery. I hope that I never have to do so. It is the people – employees (current and former) and customers – that make the business, along with the river and the land itself. I’m lucky, indeed.
I say it often, but we have the best customers. I estimate that 99% of our customers are great. The remaining 1% make for great stories. We are currently winding down for the year, but when spring comes once again, I will be ready to start it all over again.
Dr. Fraiser Crane in one of the longest-running TV characters in history. The reboot of Fraiser will soon start its second season.
I’m always conflicted Labor Day Weekend. On one hand, I am happy for summer and the canoe livery to be over for the time being. Fall is my favorite season. I’m eager to get back to the classroom. On the other hand, I love 10 PM sunsets and the very idea of the endless summers of my childhood. I vividly remember my dad taking my sister and me home to put us to bed while it was still light out, begging him to take the backway home (Jose Rd.), Erica and I exhausted from a full day swimming in the river. We lived the river all summer long. At 10, I distinctly remember walking downtown Omer during Suckerfest in early April, fixated on how unfair it was that it would be close to two months before I could swim in the Rifle again.
As of late, I watch and notice how my niece and nephew enjoy being kids growing up at the canoe livery. Each year brings forth more long-forgotten childhood memories. This weekend, my niece and a friend took tubes to the end of the road and floated around the entire campground back to our dock. My friends and I did this countless times at their age. To be 10 again without a care in the world!
Earlier this summer, I overheard kids discussing what I grew up calling “rocky.” It is a simple game. All one needs is two people, a tube, and a body of water. Two kids sit across from one another on the tube and lock legs, bouncing as hard as possible to knock the other kid off into the river. Our river version required a short walk upstream and had a natural time limit. We would walk the short, sandy straightaway upstream leading to the dock, the object being to knock the other person off before we reached the dock. My sister Erica, our cousin Abby, and I spent countless hours playing various versions of this game, leaving the river waterlogged with suits and hair full of sand. I am grateful that, in spite of all that has changed in the last 30 plus years, I still live in a world where children are still allowed carefree summers.
John and I at my sister Erica’s wedding to Fred @ Crystal Creek Campground – June 8th, 2024
I don’t often get too personal here, unless it involves the past, so here it goes. I’ve been dating John Burke for nearly four years now. We’ve had so many wonderful times together so far, and I just want him to publicly know how much he means to me! Here’s to many more years of concerts and other plans!
Love you,
Lindsey
PS – Who knew that online dating during a worldwide pandemic over 40 could work?
Hanging out @ Michigan State Fall 2021Waiting for the Blue October/Goo Goo Dolls concert to start! August 2022June 2023 Tubing Trip! State Rd.
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.
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.
This year will mark my 12th year back working at Russell Canoe Livery. Each year, I love it even more and appreciate what my parents and grandparents built. Without the canoe livery, pursuing my teaching career, and student teaching in particular, would not have been possible. None of it would have been an option. Only when I returned to the family business in 2013 did I fully understand just how much my mom contributed to the canoe livery. After retiring from teaching in 2010, Mom became more involved in the business. Only in 2013 did I begin to take over some of her responsibilities. I had to reconsider what I wanted and the narrative I had created for myself.
Growing up, I always looked up to my dad and Grandpa Buttrick. Both businessmen, I saw how both had created a life for themselves using family businesses. In Dad’s case, the seasonal nature of the canoe livery allowed him to pursue other interests and provide us with a great quality of life. As his sidekick, I grew up watching Dad making decisions about the business. Prior to building the Crystal Creek shower house in 1992, I went with him to check out similar showerhouses. One of my earliest memories is going with Dad in his truck to unclog the artesian well across the road in Crystal Creek Campground. I used to argue with him when Erica and I would catch the bus from our house behind Crystal Creek to our main location in Omer. He, of course, wanted us to ride in his bus. Knowing that he wouldn’t let me bounce around in the back of the bus, I wanted to ride with anyone else. Dad often won.
Grandpa Buttrick, on other hand, moved his young family from Marshall, Michigan to Standish, Michigan to take over his grandfather’s business: Forward Corporation. On our yearly trip to the Upper Peninsula with my Buttrick grandparents and cousins, we always had to stop in Gaylord to check on his convenience stores. He loved the business, and due to a unique set of circumstances, I managed one of his convenience stores for a few years. Through that experience, I learned just why he loved that business so much. If I hadn’t moved back to Michigan in 2005, I would not have had the opportunity to get to know Grandpa Buttrick so well before he passed away in 2007. Like teaching, business runs deep in my blood.
Late 90s at Russell Canoe Livery. Hard at work!
When I graduated in 1999, I attended Michigan State University to pursue a business degree in supply chain management. I quickly decided to pursue a Spanish degree too. I couldn’t give it up. Both of my older cousins earned degrees in supply chain management from MSU as well. I knew the program, and frankly, the subject still fascinates me. Even though I didn’t end up with a long career in supply chain, those experiences during my years at MSU made a deep impression on me and still shape how I view the world.
The processes of working so closely with my parents on all things relating to the canoe livery and establishing my teaching career gave me a whole new appreciation for my mom. I will never understand how she taught kindergarten for 15 years. Two half-days substitute teaching in kindergarten were more than enough for me.
As time went on, I slowly realized that the canoe livery would not have been nearly as successful without Mom and Grandma Reid. Dad may have had the vision and made it happen, but it would not have been possible without great customer service provided by us all. I may have grown up wanting to follow in Dad and Grandpa Buttrick’s footsteps, but I followed in my mom’s instead. I just faced a different set of circumstances.
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.
As I have said before, I have a love/hate relationship with Labor Day. I am always happy to put the canoe livery to rest until next year, and yet, summer always seems to go by way too quickly. I only made it out on the river once this summer (our annual company trip) … so far. While there is a part of me that wishes we always had summer weather here in Michigan, I know better. As a lifelong Michigander, I definitely need the change of seasons. Both times I lived in Texas, I missed it. In my soul. It never felt natural to hang out on patios in December, needing only light jackets. Where was the crisp fall weather, the smell of burning leaves, visits to apply orchards? It just didn’t seem right.
I came home today to see all of the canoe livery buses and mini buses parked in my backyard, safe from any flooding. The store is condensed and ready for us to close in a month or so. All of the picnic tables are stacked, put away until spring arrives yet again. Just a few weeks ago, we were packed at both locations and had several hundred people go down the river on Saturday morning. Now, we have the place all to ourselves once again. It always catches me by surprise how quickly we go from beyond busy to ready to close up for the year.
I can’t imagine the canoe livery not being a part of my life. I thought about it earlier this summer, and I realized that it truly was my first home. Until I was three years old, my parents, my sister Erica, and I lived in a mobile home at our main location in Omer. It was located where our large pole barn is now. I’ve literally watched my parents build their business my entire life. My brother and sister saw much of it as well; however, I am just enough older to have witnessed a bit more than either one of them. It is interesting, and frankly, I’m not sure it could have been done today – at least not in the same way. I remember my dad making annual spring trips to Minnesota to purchase more canoes, the original three buses purchased after my parents married in 1977 (they made the best forts when not in use!), and the tiny walkup store we had prior to our current store in Omer.
So many of my childhood memories are tied up with the canoe livery. One of my first memories is of playing the card game war with Grandma Reid in the old store. Another early memory is of Grandma and Mom playing two-handed Euchre, snacking on MadeRite cheese popcorn, waiting for people to come off the river. I would spend hours playing in the river and by the dock, not getting out of the water until I was completely waterlogged, trying to ignore my goosebumps. I distinctly remember being excited when the calendar changed to March and April – and yet being SO disappointed that it wasn’t nearly warm enough to go swimming in the river. I can’t think of a better way to grow up.
I love the fact my niece and nephew are growing up right near the canoe livery. They visit me at the store several times a week. I can’t begin to describe the nostalgia I feel watching them play. They are fish, and there are many times I have had to warm them up after they have spent a little too much time in the river. I have to remind them to put on shoes in the store constantly – reliving the time I found a bee with my bare foot at age 6. One day this past summer, my niece decided that she wanted to take a shower in the showerhouse at the campground, nevermind that she could take a shower in her home (a two minute walk at most). What cracked me up most is the fact that I remember doing the exact same thing at her age. It was a production. The forts, the pooling of money to purchase items in the store, leaving bikes in all the wrong places – sigh. So fun. I’m glad I’m in a position to spoil them a little bit. I hope that they enjoy every minute.
By mid-June, things were starting to come together at the canoe livery … but would our customers return? Boy, did they! We had a wedding at our main location in Omer towards the end of June. After the wedding, with one more weekend in June left, we became increasingly busy, experiencing volume rivaling what we normally experience mid-to-late July or even early August. True to form, we remained busy right up until the mid-August.
Normally, this would be welcomed and wouldn’t have been an issue. However, this year, thanks to COVID, we didn’t have adequate time to properly prepare. During a “normal” year, we have much of June to prepare for the crowds. Things ramp up during June until it becomes crazy from the 4th of July until mid-August. Well, we lost that time to hire and train. We had a week, maybe two, before we started to become that busy. Add in the pressure of new safety precautions, difficulty in getting merchandise, and rebuilding from the flood, and one gets a sense of why it became so stressful. I feel as though I have been running a marathon since May.
Please don’t get me wrong. I am eternally grateful that our business not only survived but grew during COVID. I refrain from saving thrive because it would not be sustainable long-term. Simply too many hours and too much work in such a short period of time. Still, it haunts me that so many small businesses didn’t survive or are in danger of closing permanently. All I could think of this spring is the decades of work the canoe livery represents – my family history and my personal history. It would not exist if not for the hard work, dedication, foresight, and planning of my parents, my grandparents, and now my brother and I, along with countless others over the years. So much in my life simply would not have been possible without the canoe livery. In it, I see my future. Whether I like it or not, the canoe livery and the Rifle River is a part of me. The very idea of it no longer existing is unimaginable.
If nothing else, I do hope that I have turned the corner and truly have a fresh start this fall. It feels that way. I could use some routine and consistency in my life – along with a healthy dose of “normal” – whatever that is now. It is time to figure out exactly what it is that I want. I know that I have returned to that theme dozens of times here over the years. Yet, I still don’t know.
Who is to say that I will be content to spend the rest of my life alone? If I met the right man – and I repeat here, the right man – I can see myself in a relationship again. Yet, I have a difficult time seeing how I would meet him. Same goes for children. I would love to be a mother. I know I would nail it. Yet just the mere thought of the foster and/or adoption processes is enough to make me want to break out in hives. I know what can go wrong all too well. Maybe it will be time to “jump” sooner rather than later. I do know that I do not want to regret what I didn’t do in my life. Until then …
I’ve always loved fall, but somehow, this time of year just means more this year. I’ve been on an emotional rollercoaster (more on that in a minute, and not all entirely COVID related) since mid-March. I want OFF! NOW. I never dreamed that I would help run a business and teach middle school during a pandemic, but here I am. Something I never wanted to add to my bucket list.
As I am smack-dab in the middle of returning to in-person classes for the first time since mid-March, it is SO nice to have some normalcy, particularly after a summer and spring that was anything but “normal.” I missed my students deeply, and I enjoy just observing kids being kids.
So, about this spring and summer … Well, of course, it all started mid-March – that ill-fated Friday the 13th to be exact. As the shutdown deepened, I began to worry about opening the canoe livery for the season. Worry about the survivability of the family business #1. Frankly, it didn’t look good. Just as we, along with pretty much everyone else on the Rifle River, made the decision to open for self-contained camping only during Memorial Weekend, the other shoe dropped.
May 18th-20th, we received close to 7 inches of rain. Dams in nearby Gladwin and Midland counties failed. Fortunately, we did have a little warning thanks to another livery on the river. My parents, brother, and I were able to save much of our technology and merchandise in our store in Omer. Good thing we had that warning. We ended up with 3 feet of water in the store. That wasn’t even the worst part.
During the shutdown, I made the decision to stay with my mom. I don’t think either of us wanted to be alone in our own homes for an extended period of time. My dad was at their cabin in Canada when the shutdown happened, and he didn’t come home immediately. I was over at my parents’ house when the stay-at-home order dropped. Then, it just became habit. What was I supposed to do at home by myself that entire time? Normally, I am rarely at home. I am usually at work, running errands – all kinds of things – none of which I could do during the lockdown.
Anyway, my parents and I watched in May as the Rifle River filled our Crystal Creek Campground near my parents’ home. It nearly reached Pinnacle Bridge, which is amazing in and of itself. Then it happened. I read a Facebook post that stated that the Forest Lake Dam broke. We evacuated my parents’ home. While the Forest Lake Dam isn’t directly on the Rifle River, it would feed into the nearby river if it did break. There simply was no way to predict what would happen if the dam broke. My parents feared losing their home of nearly 40 years, not to mention their business of nearly 45 years. I can still hear the panic in both of my parents’ voices. I hope to never experience anything like again it in my life. Same can be said for most of March through August.
Fortunately, the dam held. We returned to my parents’ home later that day when we received word that the immediate danger had passed. While I haven’t made a habit of watching the local news in decades, I did watch that evening as local affiliates reported as the Edenville and Sanford dams collapsed, devastating Gladwin and Midland counties. I know the area. I used to manage a convenience store in Sanford. I traveled M-30 across the Edenville dam many times. Wixom and Sanford Lakes are no more, and the Tittabawassee River reclaimed its original path. It so easily could have been my family. My parents could have easily lost their home – MY childhood home – and their business that day. So many in Midland and the surrounding area did.
When we were finally able to survey the damage, we were lucky. The flood mainly damaged our main location in Omer this time. Keep in mind that we suffered devastating flood/ice damage – along with tornado damage later that summer – at our Crystal Creek Campground in 2018. In Omer, we lost our propane tank, our ice chest, fencing, and a campsite. Yes, you read that correctly. When our campground – a former mill pond – flooded, the water drained in one area, completely eroding one of our campsites. We had to get excavation work done in order to rebuild. All of this on top of 3 feet of water in our store, bathrooms, and pole barns. The cleanup took nearly a month, delaying our opening. When we were finally able to reopen in mid-June, we didn’t know what to expect.
I will leave off here for now. There is so much more to the story. While I will discuss some aspects of what happened after we reopened another day, there is much more that will have to be left unsaid. So much of what made this summer truly horrendous isn’t even my story to tell.
In my family’s experience with the flood, I watched my parents, my brother, and I come together to make things happen under unprecedented circumstances. COVID made things much more difficult than they needed to be. Something as simple as ordering merchandise for the summer became a nightmare. Yet, it worked. We somehow made it work. That is precisely why I wanted to tell this story.
Above all, I hope all of us – every last person affected by COVID, which is the entire planet – finally get some semblance of normal. We deserve it!
Ramblings of a Misguided Blonde 