The Road Home

The Road Home

The first time I saw it, there was grass growing down the middle, and it was permanently rutted with 4x4 tire tracks from trucks that flew unmercilessly through the mud holes after a spring rain. It was barely wide enough for two cars to pass, one had to swerve into the brush on the side and motion for the other to come through. We eventually met our neighbors through this frequent act of road compromise. We have also almost got hit a few times from drivers who didn't know the rules.

We measure the seasons by it - waiting patiently each spring for the first green leaves to pop open with the bright promise of another summer. Each October, it is marked by fallen leaves, cluttered at the sides, still clinging to the colors of another season passed.

In winter, it becomes the obstacle between us and the rest of the world. We wait patently for the snowplow driver to roar his way down, piling the snowbanks as high as the car windows by February. Once or twice each winter, Mother Nature turns everything to ice and we skate it's hills all the way down to the lake, imagining what Hans Brinker must have felt.

I've traveled it so many times I know its hills, curves and banks like an old friend. I measure time by the number of woodpecker holes and piles of wood chips at the bottom of the old, dead trees. I've walked it when I was angry, crying, frustrated. I've taken refuge there when I needed a break from motherhood. I've used it to leash train all the dogs that have come in to our life, and we had two cats that would come along, running up ahead or meandering behind.

We've searched it for lost hunters, broke down truck drivers and stuck snowmobilers. I've trucked it with babies on my back, in wagons, on skis and in sleds. Those babies first taste of freedom came as teenagers on bikes as they traveled the curves and hills by themselves.

When I turn off the pavement and hit the sand and stones, I take a deep breath and let it out slow. I ease my foot off the accelerator and let myself glide in. I slow down past the lake, taking in a sunset, some fishermen or a full moon reflected across the mirror surface. I head around the curves and up the hills into the woods, taking in the sweet scent of wild cherry blossoms in spring, or the fresh smell of the woods after a summer rain, or the unbeliveable quiet of a winter's night.

Another deep breath...I know I'm on the road home.

Guns Have a Place

I am not a gun lover – never have been, never will be, BUT, I understand they have a place and purpose and I credit my son for helping me understand that. Because he grew up in the woods and waters of Northern Michigan, he is an avid outdoorsman – and a very respectful one.

He spent his early years at deer camp – listening to his uncle and friends share their stories; he went out on hunts before he was old enough to shoot and began tuning into the sights and sounds of nature; he has sat for hours in deer blinds and can tell the difference between the crashing of a busy squirrel and the silent stepping of a ten-point buck; he has tracked deer in deep snow, pouring rain and unseasonable heat. Many hunting seasons he came back empty-handed; other years our freezer was full of fresh venison that lasted all winter. He’s hunted with guns, bows and muzzle-loaders; he has a hand gun and has used it to scare off more than one bear in our front yard. 

We have debated the gun issue many times, and we both agree on background checks, licensing and proper training. He took a Hunter’s Safety Course when he was young; everything is kept locked in a gun cabinet; and I have learned to appreciate that he can provide food for the family, and protect us if, God forbid, he ever had to.  

 

Kelsey's Cabin

When our daughter was about 8, she asked her dad to build her a play house. She picked a spot under the shade of a huge old oak tree out back, just a stone’s throw from the house. His first thought was a couple of hours and some plywood kind of playhouse, but that’s not what she wanted; she wanted a log cabin – a real log cabin.

The first two summers, they cut, skidded and peeled the bark from red pines that they cut off the property; the next summer they dug out a 12’x10’ area and laid cement blocks for a foundation. The walls began to go up slowly over the next two summers, a few feet at a time to allow them to dry.  Finally, it was time to cement in between the logs on both sides, put in three windows and shingle the roof. A door was hung and Kelsey’s cabin became a reality.

Although not much more than a place to put a mattress, she was thrilled, it was all hers. She spent hours there, decorating the walls, making curtains, listening to her music as loud as she wanted, playing her flute, talking on the phone, or taking a nap. As a teenager, summer took on a whole new meaning for her and her friends - constant sleep overs, bonfires, dance parties, and the best hang out for miles.  

Over the years, we added a sleeping loft, electricity, a small sink and kitchen area and a front deck. Since Kesley has grown up and moved away, it has become her retreat, the place she comes back to when she needs to relax and re-charge.

“There’s something about the cabin that is just so peaceful,“ she says, “It’s my favorite place on Earth: cold beer, wet beach towels, fishing nets, sandals, paddles, flowers...summertime.

 

The Joys of Ice Fishing

Sitting on a frozen lake, staring at a hole in the ice is not my idea of fishing. Give me a warm summer day, a nice stable boat, tall glass of lemonade and the Tigers game on the radio – now that’s my idea of fishing. Although I will admit I haven’t caught many fish.

But since I have a son who is an avid fisherman and I was glad he still wanted his mom to be involved in things he liked to do, I tried to figure out what could possibly appeal to him about ice fishing. So, out we went, one very early and cold February morning, I could hardly move with all the layers of clothes I had on and wondered if I would cut off the circulation in my legs if I sat too long!

We started at the local bait shop, where the dedicated gather before sunrise, while the rest of the world is still snuggled under their warm quilts. According to my son, this was an important part of the fishing experience. There’s camaraderie among fishermen, they offer updates on the best spots, give tips and secrets and everyone shares in the success of a good catch.

As the sun began to rise, we made our way across frozen Crystal Lake, armed with a sled full of fishing gear, a small propane heater, extra clothes, snacks and two thermos’s of hot chocolate, all packed in two 5-gallon buckets that doubled as chairs. We took turns pulling the sled across the ice, past the shoreline and onto the smooth surface of the lake. We set up about ¼ mile out, near some other fishing shanties, which was an indicator this might be a good spot.

Being that my son was a well-seasoned fisherman, he knew just what to do and I followed his directions. He began cutting a hole in the ice with a hand-powered auger, which seemed to take forever. It finally pushed through the thick ice and soon water was gushing up through the hole. He moved over a few feet and cut another hole and a few feet away two more for me.

Ice fishing poles are small, about 18” so they can be set up so all we had to do was watch them. Once everything was in place, we could stop and relax. The air was crisp and clear, the sunrise was reflecting off the lake and the moon was setting in the distance. The quiet was amazing – all we could hear was the wind blowing. I began to understand what appealed to my son and the weathered group of fishermen around us. It was as if we were in a world of our own – it was just us and the fish, with no interruptions from the rest of the world.

My son baited two rods with small live minnows, which we dropped into the cold depths of the lake. Just as I began to settle in with my newspaper next to the propane heater, one of the rods started to quiver. My son jumped up and made the first catch of the day – a nice 8” yellow perch, big enough to be a keeper. He yelped, and that started our day of fishing. I soon realized the newspaper would have to wait. For the next few hours, we worked together – baiting hooks and unhooking fish, until we had close to two dozen fresh lake perch – enough for a family meal.

We stopped around noon, the fish had quit biting and we were getting hungry for lunch. We packed up and headed off the lake with our catch. That night, as we all enjoyed the perch dinner, my son and I shared the memories of the day, and I gained an appreciation for fishing a whole new way.

On the Edge

At any given moment, we can all be feeling “on the edge.” Any set of circumstances could push us over. It is part of being human and not something we grow out of, find a fix for, get over or move on from. It’s something we have to learn to live with, and each one of us does that in a different way.

For many, isolation and loneliness can make life unbearable. When you feel you have no one to talk to; no real friends who will listen; that there’s no one who feels like you do or has been in your shoes; and the toughest one of all – that no one cares – creates hopelessness, anguish and despair. We are social beings, and when someone feels they have no real human connection, it can push them to do inhumane things.

So what can we do? Maybe we need to pay attention a little more – to our young boys who need male mentors and role models that aren’t over-paid entertainers and sports stars; to our young girls, to encourage them to be strong along with beautiful, and to follow their instincts as well as their hearts.

What if we made a real effort to spend more time with our families, and less time at work…or finally joined that church or community group or class we’ve been thinking about…or took the time to volunteer at the animal shelter or hospital we drive by everyday…or offered to shovel a neighbor’s walk, or bring them their mail and ask how they’re doing…

Is there something or someone in your community, your town, your neighborhood – that might benefit from knowing someone else cares? What if we all took just a few minutes, a few times, and reached out, shared a cup of coffee, offered to help, let them know we feel the same, could it make a difference?

No one knows that, of course, but it seems small enough to try and maybe there’s something to that “power in numbers’ thing…

 

Giving Thanks

…for family, who still love you even though they’ve known you their whole life,

and for old friends, who love you because they have known you almost your whole life…

…for children that grow up to be awesome adults and then come back home and tell us what awesome parents we are…

…for faithful pets, who love you no matter what you do, say, smell like, look like, and even if you leave them for hours and forget to pick up their food…

…for the change of season that brings the first snow…first smell of wood smoke…first batch of venison chili…

…for home, for whatever space you have to find comfort and relaxation at the end of the day…

…for my trusty Jeep and having 4-wheel drive to shift into when the back roads turn icy…

…for all those who help make the holidays a little brighter for others…the Salvation Army bell ringers…the Toys for Tots gatherers…the community dinner organizers…the coat and food drive volunteers…the church members that deliver baskets…those that help with sending packages to troops overseas…

…for the snow plow drivers, whose welcome roar clears our road and assures us we can get out no matter what winter dishes out, and for the delivery drivers and mail carriers, that help us stay connected to those far away…

…for acceptance of growing older, moving slower and not needing as much as we thought we did when we were younger…

…for another year, another day, another chance to correct a mistake, let something go, make someone smile and spread some good news...

 

Happy Holidays from Our House to Yours

Letting Go

Letting go of something, whether it’s a bad marriage, toxic friend, un-healthy habit, dead-end job, or long-held grudge, can mean digging deep to find the courage and strength to make positive changes. It’s easier sometimes to just give in or give up and succumb to whatever life throws at us; yet we know it’s not the best choice in the long run.

One of the hardest as a parent is letting go of our children. We know that we never really let go of them, even when they are grown adults with kids of their own, they’ll always be our babies. And there are times when we still wish we could just hug them and make it better. But, we do have to let go of them eventually so they can become the adults they are meant to be.  It means evolving into an adult relationship with them and letting them take responsibility for their lives. It’s still okay to make them a home cooked meal, ask about their friends and remind them to drive safe...after all, we don't have to let go of everything!

Moving on from a difficult relationship, dead-end job or long-time routine can be one of the hardest things to do. Everyone gets stuck sometimes, but if it lasts, over time we end up in a rut; that's when it's time to really think about what and how to let go. It can mean moving away from what has been familiar for years, taking on the work of finding another job or a new group of friends. It gets harder to make these changes as we get older, have less energy and become more set in our ways. 

But, change can start in small steps, like taking a class in something you've always wanted to learn; finding out about volunteer opportunities, often it’s a place to meet new people and develop a connection to community; consider joining a church if your spiritual side is calling; give some time to a cause close to your heart; plan a trip to visit a friend or relative you've been meaning to see; try yoga, join or gym or get outside every day; tap in to your creative side and learn a new craft; find someone to talk to who will really listen, whether a caring friend or compassionate professional.

I don' think we are meant to stay in a miserable or angry state – no matter what the situation is. There are no perfect anything’s in this life, yet we can make choices that are more likely to make us happy, and once we do, we often wonder why we took so long! Happy Trails...