Sunday, February 27, 2011

Valentine Smoochie Poochies

Mikey, will you be my Valentine?

Dear George,

We’ve had two straight months of lousy weather – cold, snow, ice –and it’s kept us all, including the sheepdogs, cooped up in the house. Mike and Duffy’s younger sister, Sophie, came to visit for a long weekend after Valentine’s Day. Sophie peps everybody up. She’s very perky with her more laidback brothers, and she enjoys Katja’s and my company too. When they were younger the dogs would have occasional skirmishes, nearly always initiated by Duffy, but now they get along almost perfectly. Here are a few views around the house.

Mike (left) and Sophie – sweet friends

Mike looking regal

Mike watches, Duffy sleeps

Duffy wonders if it’s time for something

Of course, it’s treat time – such well behaved dogs

Our wintry weather let up on Saturday, so I took the dogs for an expedition to Mt. Airy Forest. Mt. Airy’s been closed much of the winter while they’ve thinned the deer herd, and they just reopened full-time recently. We took a trail near the Treehouse which runs down the hill to a dried-up creek. Then we got off the trail and took a hike along the creekbed. The occasional pools of water didn’t deter the dogs who were just happy to be out exploring in the cool weather.

Sophie, Duffy, Mike – the pack sets out on the trail

Mike thinks it's a great day to be out

We find the creekbed – Duffy stops, Sophie moves on

Look! Water! (Mike at right, Sophie left)

Duffy says to Sophie, "This is just the best hike!"

Duffy agrees to sit for his portrait

Sophie to Duffy: "Hey, where are you going?"

Oh no, Sophie, what happened to your freshly washed legs?

The end of a sunny afternoon in the forest

Mike and Duffy celebrate their ninth birthday in April, Sophie in November. Wow! That’s gone by quickly. But they still have a lot of puppy sensibility, and we enjoy them more every single day.



Thursday, February 24, 2011

Hey, It's Family Birthday Week

Vicki on the window seat (circa 1957)

Dear George,

I seem to suffer from some congenital defect that messes up my ability to do the correct thing on anniversaries, Valentine’s Day, family birthdays, etc. Today is Vicki’s birthday, and, while I managed to send off an e-card, that’s admittedly a poor second to a real card in the mail. I love my sister with my whole heart, and I think it’s ridiculous that California and Ohio are so far apart and that we’re such erratic communicators.

The fourth week of February was the biggest birthday week of the year for our family. I don’t think even Christmas rivaled it in emotional intensity. Vicki leads it off today on Feb. 24, celebrating her sixtyish birthday (which one regards as youthful when you’re her ten year older brother). Then our mother Doris’ birthday is tomorrow on Friday, Feb. 25, and our brother Steven’s is Sunday, Feb. 27. As siblings we’d have lengthy discussions of the meaning of this remarkable cluster. Already jealous about Vicki’s special status as the youngest child and only daughter, we three older brothers would pretend to be peeved about her #1 placement in Birthday Week, insisting that that honor should have belonged to our mother. Vicki didn’t even bother to pay attention to her brothers’ teasing, having learned to fend them off at an early age. Steven would be grumpy about being last in the sequence, but then he would change his mind and declare that the preceding birthdays were just preliminaries for the biggest celebration of all. He claimed that there was no family birthday on Feb. 26, just so everybody could recharge their batteries in order to celebrate his grand day on Feb. 27.

Steve’s 8th birthday (1949)

Peter and I were sort of left out. We were born in the summer, he in June, I in July. Though in a minority, we claimed that summer was preferable to mid-winter, given swimming in the river and fires in the outdoor fireplace. Our dad Vic was born in November, a cold and gray time in Menominee. We felt guilty that he had no birthday partners, but he was unflappable. My dad’s opinion was that birthdays were matters for the young, and he discouraged any sort of recognition for himself and Doris, though we would all go to the drugstore and bring home some baubles.

Peter’s 5th birthday (1950)

My 10th birthday (1947)

We children got very excited about our birthdays, primarily about the bevy of gifts. Now that I think about it though, these events had much larger significance for the family as a whole. They provided the ritual occasion for collectively telling individuals they were loved and were so special that they deserved a family celebration centered wholly upon themselves. So I send our birthday wishes to Vicki today and encourage her to enjoy the special place she has occupied in our hearts for all these many years.



G-Mail Comments

-Vicki L (3-5): Hi David, Yet another delayed email. Thank you for this birthday tribute. I, too, always thought it was amazing that Doris, Steven and I had birthdays clustered together. Of course, I was oblivious to how you and Peter may have felt.

Vic was a true Swede - minimizing his own needs for attention - but, I agree, we knew better. I suppose we're nonetheless still challenged (given his modeling) - to enjoy recognition and overt expressions of love. This is still uncomfortable for me, but I must say, I'm learning to enjoy these gestures - including your reaching out to wish me a happy (64th) birthday. You're such an excellent older brother. Love, Vicki

-Kiera O (2-28): What a wonderful remembrance and birthday tribute...again I’m grateful to Terry for keeping me tuned in to David's treasure trove. love, Kiera

-Jennifer M (2-24): This is a very nice birthday message for Vicki. :-)

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Krewe du Vieux 2011 [a letter from J]

Dear Mom & Dad, Family, & Friends,

Just got home from a wild night parading in Krewe du Vieux which, for those of you who don't know, is a smallish parade (900 or so people) that goes through the French Quarter and has a focus on sex and politics. It's really the kickoff parade for the whole Carnival season. My Krewe's float portrayed Sarah Palin as a racer in the "Idiot-a-rod" - she was whipping a sleigh dog with the face of Bobby Jindal with an American flag, and every so often he would lift his leg to pee on a figure of the state of Louisiana. Very subtle stuff. Anyway, some of the pics do capture the moment.

Newsweek declared earlier this week that New Orleans is America's #1 dying city whatever that means. But as I see it, the city has died at least a dozen times before and we're already deep into the afterlife. And what a great afterlife it is, at least on nights like tonight. If this is being dead, I say bring it on baby!! 
For those of you not in nola right now, the Mardi Gras season is now officially on. That's why everyone's screaming and in various levels of undress.

Happy Mardi Gras everybody!


G-Mail Comments

-Gayle CL 92-21): David......Cooooool;))))))

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

My First Annual Valentine Letter

Me and my Valentine in NYC

Dear George,

We got several annual Xmas letters this year, and they are always enjoyable. Katja and I consider doing this each time, but we’re such procrastinators. A blog is a good medium though, so I think I will start an annual Valentine’s day letter instead. My short-term memory only seems to stop abruptly after six months. But here’s what I do recall.

By far the biggest family news this past year is that our son and daughter-in-law, J and K, along with their 2-year-old daughter V and K’s dad Ted, completed their trip to China in August to meet and bring back their new 2-year-old son, L. This plan has been in the works for years, and the journey generated great excitement for everybody. We’ve gotten lots of photos, but it was thrilling when the whole family came up from New Orleans to visit us in Cincinnati for Thanksgiving. L is a darling child and has already picked up an impressive command of English. He and V are exactly the same age (two years old in mid-September), and they’re very close and amicable as brother and sister. They delight in saying one another’s name, keep busy doing things together, and are very alert to one another’s whereabouts and states of mind. I’d forgotten how much energy two-year-olds generate; having two at once quadruples the level of excitement. Plus J and K are wonderful parents – loving, sensitive, fun. We are lucky to be grandparents to such a great family.

J & L, K & V, and Ted in China

For our vacation tripping, we went to New York to celebrate our fiftieth wedding anniversary on Aug. 28 with Katja’s sister and brother-in-law, Ami and Bruce. They were gracious and loving hosts, and we couldn’t have wished for a more enjoyable trip. Katja’s friends had given us golden sparkly baseball caps, and we wore them all around the city. Highlights of our stay included the elevated High Line Park; the Whitney, the Met, and MOMA; Fela and Back to Normal on Broadway; Ground Zero and the Brooklyn Promenade; dinner at Jean-Georges; and fun time with Ami, Bruce, and Ami’s close friend Jean. Soon after we got back to Cincinnati we went out for dinner to Brio’s at Newport on the Levee with the Feinbergs and the Johnsons to celebrate multiple events: the Feinbergs’ 45th anniversary, Norris’ seventy-something birthday, and our own milestone. Nobody could believe we’d reached these multi-decade milestones that we associate more with our grandparents than ourselves.

Ami & Katja at the Met

Then we hit a rocky period. In late September Katja climbed up on a wobbly stool to retrieve a book from the top shelf, leaned over too far, and came tumbling down, crashing to the floor. An X-ray at the Emergency Room confirmed that she had broken her humerus near the shoulder. Katja saw her orthopedist the next morning, and he determined that surgery wasn’t the preferred option, but the fracture was bad and recovery would take months. The first month was awful; Katja was in continous pain and heavily medicated. Then she began physical therapy, and she did make steady progress. Now her fractured arm is completely recovered, and she’s been back at work since December. Soon after she got better, though, Katja tripped over some rough pavement in a Panera parking lot and jammed her left shoulder. It’s not nearly as serious, but she’s still dealing with a bunch of pain.

Nothing keeps Katja down

J and V bought us a new flat-screen TV for our fiftieth anniversary, and it’s been a thoroughly enjoyable gift. Our former TV was old and dated, so this new, high-definition version enhances our quality of life on a daily basis. We’ve watched a lot of the NFL (Bengals and Packers, not to mention the Super Bowl), PBS, and, given that Katja and I courted in Atlantic City in our youth, we loved Boardwalk Empire on HBO.

We stayed home for Christmas. Our close friends, the Minkarahs, invited us to a big birthday party for 50 or 60 people at The Precinct – Randa’s 50th and Sam’s 80th (both of them looking young and energetic). Then we joined Eleanor, Sam, and the whole Minkarah clan for Christmas Day dinner. We’re very honored to be ad hoc members of their family, and it made for a happy holiday.

Katja with the Minkarah women (Grace, Randa, Maria, Katja, Eleanor)

The current year looks filled with excitement and change since Katja is giving serious thought to retiring. Our original plan was that I’d retire first, and she would follow the next year. Now two years have gone by, so it’s about time. Katja has worked for her entire life, and she views this step with trepidation. However, I think she’ll totally enjoy it. She’s thinking about Paris; I’m ready to hit the road with the sheepdogs.

Despite a cold and snowy winter, many other things have been going on. Line dancing remains fun, I work out faithfully at the fitness center, I enjoy seeing colleagues at UC where I still have my office, I’m busy with various photography projects, we’ve taken in lots of good Esquire movies with our friend Donna, and our sheepdogs Mike and Duffy keep us filled with good feelings. All in all, life is like a dream (merrily, merrily).



Saturday, February 12, 2011

A Skinny Matter

Dear George,

Several years ago I had surgery on a splotch of skin cancer near my left eye. The surgery went fine, and the doctor reassured me that I didn’t need to worry about it. Since then I’ve gone for regular checkups with Dr. Jamali, a dermatologist out in the suburbs. I drove out last Thursday for this year’s appointment. I was a little nervous because I’ve been feeling a little pimple-like growth right where the surgery had been done. I hadn’t paid much attention to it, but, as my appointment drew nearer, I started getting nervous about what Dr. Jamali might discover. One’s eye socket is a lousy location for skin cancer, and, though I’d only been aware of a small surface blemish, who knows what’s going on underneath it. The more I thought about it, the more I speculated that, not only had my skin cancer come back, but it had been burrowing inward and growing in my frontal cortex. While I couldn’t actually feel it inside my skull, I started recalling various instances of strange behavior on my part in recent months, and I was suddenly overwhelmed by the insight that my brain has been invaded by pathological alien forces.

My appointment was for 10 a.m. and I arrived at 9:30. Despite it being a one-physician practice, there were at least a dozen patients in the large waiting room. I decided Dr. Jamali must spend about 5 minutes with each one and that dermatology is a lucrative enterprise. I filled out the requisite form and settled in with a three month old People Magazine. Forty minutes later a staff member called my name and led me to Examining Room 6. She asked me some questions, including what kind of skin cancer I’d had surgery for. I couldn’t remember, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t melanoma. She said she’d go out and that I should take my clothes off, though I could leave my underwear on. She gave me a large folded paper sheet and suggested I put it on my lap like a blanket.

It was nine degrees outdoors and chilly in the examining room too, so I clutched the thin paper blanket around my chest as I sat and waited. About five minutes later there was a knock on the door, and a fortyish dark-haired woman in a white coat entered, followed by another woman in a blue med tech outfit who seemed to be a chaperone. The dark-haired woman introduced herself as Therese and said she would be examining me in advance of Dr. Jamali. She was a nurse practitioner and seemed very chipper and good-natured. I told her about the blemish on my eye socket, and she looked it over. She didn’t think it was a problem, but Dr. Jamali would decide whether or not to remove it. That immediately improved my spirits. Then she had me stand up and remove my paper protective covering. I felt sort of self-conscious standing semi-naked in the presence of two female strangers, but Therese was much more interested in my tiny spots and blemishes than in my general physical condition. She said the various brown spots on my hands and arms were hereditary, and, because of their frequency, probably both my parents had had these. I thought to myself, my mother had virtually perfect D.A.R. skin and certainly didn’t have any brown spots, but I couldn’t really remember for sure.

Dr. Jamali came in, gave me a smile and shook my hand. He looked at my eye socket. At first he didn’t see anything, but then he concluded I had a little wart. He added, “That probably makes you feel good, doesn’t it.” I nodded affirmatively. He gave Therese instructions about freezing and removing the microscopic wart, as well as a couple of other skin blemishes on my forehead. Then he went off to see his next three-minute patient. Therese got a canister with a spray nozzle which contained liquid hydrogen, and she proceeded to zap a couple of spots on my forehead. The freezing liquid hydrogen created a sharp burning sensation, but it was tolerable. Rather than spray liquid hydrogen into my left eye, Therese used a hydrogen-doused Q-tip for that more sensitive location. Then I was dermatologically cured. She advised me to use sun screen and said I should come back in a year to see either Dr. Jamali or her. She suggested that I see her because she has more time available than does Dr. Jamali. I got dressed, signed out at the checkout desk, and made an appointment with Therese for February of next year. I called Katja to let her know that I wasn’t dying, but she was out of her office. I was relieved, although, since I’d decided that my various aberrant behaviors were due to brain cancer, now I’d need to come up with a different explanation. Oh well, whatever it is, it can’t be as bad as a tumor inside one’s brain.



G-Mail Comments

-Jennifer M (2-13): This is a funny one!

-Gayle CL (2-13); I'm glad u r going to live...that makes me very happy;))))). Love to all;)))))

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

The Pack is Back!

Fans celebrate the Packers' 31-25 Super Bowl win aainst Pittsburgh [Source: Green Bay Press-Gazette]

Dear George,

According to the Green Bay Press-Gazette, about 35,000 people – a third of the total population of the city – lined the streets in 19-degree temperature on a supposed workday to welcome home the Super Bowl champions who arrived by motorcade on Monday afternoon. One participant, Hannah Eliot, said, “Other teams have some fans who are this crazy and this dedicated. But ALL Packers fans are this crazy and this dedicated.” Pamela Orth, principal at Green Bay’s Holy Family School, stood with her children holding a hand-lettered sign proclaiming, “We (Heart) the Pack.” Team President Mark Murphy was at the front of the first bus, leading staff and players in waving to the crowd. Fans went berserk when they spotted the Lombardi trophy, awarded to the Super Bowl Champions and named after the legendary Green Bay coach who led the Packers to victory in the first two Super Bowls. Team colors could be seen everywhere – on clothing, on signs, painted on faces, even on the sweaters worn by dogs in the freezing weather. A hand-lettered sign proclaimed that one of the neighborhoods on the route would now be known as “Mr. Rodgers’ Neighborhood,” in honor of quarterback Aaron Rodgers.

Green Bay schools closed at noon on Monday, and parents were informed beforehand that no one would be marked absent if they didn’t come in at all. Thousands of children, as well as their teachers, were among the crowd greeting the team. The motorcade wound up at Lambeau Field, and the police used steel railings to block fans’ entry to the player areas. Police lieutenant Jeremy Murski observed that there wasn’t a single problem incident with the crowd, commenting, “This reaffirms that Green Bay Packer fans are the class of the NFL, if not all of professional sports.” Fan volunteers and staff were busy shoveling the snow out of Lambeau Field for today’s “Return to Titletown” celebration. The 50,000 seats were completely sold out by Monday night. The governor will attend and the festivities will be televised live on Packer network stations throughout Wisconsin. I wish we could be there. Katja and I cheered for the Packers in Super Bowl I in 1966, and we’re just as excited this time around in Super Bowl XLV.



Saturday, February 5, 2011

Archive: Menominee Postcards #2

Green Bay Shore, Menominee, Michigan

Dear George,

I’ve added a new Menominee Michigan postcard to the righthand column of this blog each week since July 2009. When I delete an old one and add a new one, these don’t get permanently stored, so I’ve decided to periodically create an archive of previously posted Menominee postcards for the interested viewer. This is the second set of archived Menominee postcards (one can click on “Archive” in the directory of “Labels” in the blog’s righthand column to retrieve the first batch of Menominee images, as well as an archived set of Marinette Wisconsin postcards). Menominee is a town of 10,000 at the south central tip of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, across the Menominee River from its twin city of Marinette. Just about everybody who drives to the U.P. from Milwaukee or Chicago passes through Menominee. These postcards range from about 1910 to the 1970’s or 80’s. The majority are from the early 1900’s to 1950. I obtained most of these images on e-Bay, though some also came from Google Images.




This is Ogden Avenue during the annual Memorial Day parade in the early 1940’s. Ogden Ave. runs from downtown at the Green Bay shore to Menominee’s west end. Washington Grade School is just half a block off to the left, though not in the picture. The tall tower at the left is the Presbyterian Church, and St. Joseph Lloyd Hospital and the Interstate Bridge are farther down the street. My grandfather’s Menominee Drug Store is the three story building in the foreground. My brother Steven and I ate lunch there every day during grade school, and all of us kids worked there occasionally as teens (though mostly we worked at the Marinette drugstore which our father came to own). The Memorial Day parade was a major community happening, and our Boy Scout troop marched in it every year.


The smaller breakwater to the left was constructed during my childhood. Shortly after his return from the war, my dad took 4-year-old Steven and 8-year-old me out on the frozen Green Bay ice, walking from the end of the small breakwater to the tip of the larger one. I ran ahead, and, as I approached the big breakwater, I plunged through the soft ice into eight-foot deep freezing water. Steven tried to run to my aid, and my dad had to restrain him and couldn’t come to help me. He called for me to try to get to the breakwater, and I dragged my way through the crumbling ice to reach the edge, pulled myself up in my water-logged snowsuit, and ran the length of the breakwater to get to my Uncle Kent’s drugstore. Everyone told me I was a hero of sorts. A peak experience of sorts, it remains pretty fresh in my mind.


This downtown waterfront park is a major community gathering place in Menominee. It fronts Green Bay, with a swimming beach and a small breakwater extending outward into the Bay. The Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts hold a big annual Bay-o-Rama here. There’s been a four-day Waterfront Festival here in August for many years, including a big-time fireworks display, and we’ve often scheduled family reunions for mid-August to coincide with the Festival weekend. My dad helped organize summer music concerts at the bandshell. Marina Park was one of our favorite summer hangouts at teenagers.


This early 1900’s view was taken from the spot where my grandfather built our home some forty years later. That’s Pig Island across the river, and Riverside Cemetery is located to the far left. A most beautiful spot.


The Menominee fire station was located just off Ogden Avenue at the town’s center, just west of the courthouse. My dad brought us there now and then as children, and we got to climb on the trucks and slide down the fire pole. A few years ago I bought a Menominee Fire Department patch on e-Bay and wore it proudly on one of my autumn weather jackets.


Menominee and Marinette owe much of their origin and growth to the lumber boom of the late 19th century. The first sawmill was built in 1832, the second in 1841. Two dozen sawmills lined the Menominee River by the turn of the century, and more lumber was shipped out of this port than anywhere else in the world. The last log drive was held in 1917, and the last lumber company sawmill closed in 1931. When we were children growing up on the Menominee River in the 1950’s, we still were able to explore leftover ruins of logging company structures on and along the river near our house.


The Wells Lumber Company was located on Green Bay along Highway 41, north of Triangle Park and south of the Lloyd Manufacturing Company. It was a part of the town’s historic tradition and the last of its kind. The Wells were a prominent founding family of Menominee, and one of the Wells families lived across the street from us on Sheridan Road. My friend Sammy would take me over to the Lumber Company, and we were allowed to wander through the plant on elevated catwalks, always a mysterious venture.


There were several dams on the Menominee River which were used to control the flow and height of the water. This postcard is from about 1910, and the dam was much less impressive than the larger versions which were in place by our youth. We were always scared about being swept over the dam by raging currents when we boated near it, but I learned years later that my younger brother Peter and his daredevil friends used to swim over the top of the dam and slide down its face into the whitewater.


This is a view of First Street (originally Main St., then Sheridan Road), near the southern edge of Menominee’s business district and just below the Marina Park and the breakwater (all to the right, just outside of the picture). The building at the right is the Waterfront Restaurant (later the Landing). When we were home for family reunions my parents would treat us all to dinner at the Waterfront, where we would enjoy Manhattans and broiled whitefish. The tallish tower at the middle left is the corner of the Herald-Leader building, where our family friend Jean Worth was editor. The large white building far down the street is the Montgomery Ward store and the knitting mill. Our family lived in a second-floor apartment near this corner while my father was away in the war.


By the time I was in grade school in the 1940’s the former opera house had been converted to the Menominee Theater, one of two movie houses in Menominee. The Menominee sold coupon books for its 1:00 Saturday matinees, 10 movie tickets for a dollar. It was an exciting time because all the kids on that side of town would come streaming down Kirby Street in the half hour before the movie’s start, and the audience’s anticipation ran high. There would be a news reel, highlighting the war in Europe, two cartoons, and a double feature. Cowboy movies were our favorites (Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, Hopalong Cassidy, the Lone Ranger and Tonto), but so were comedies (the Marx Brothers, Laurel and Hardy, Abbott and Costello), and detective stories (Charlie Chan, Dick Tracy, The Thin Man). I don’t recall ever seeing a parent in the movie house, but we kids managed just fine on our own.


Lloyd Marshall Burns (1881-1927), inventor and manufacturer, moved his company from Minneapolis to Menominee in 1906, having produced children’s vehicles and a wire weaving machine. His most important invention was the Lloyd Loom, used to weave the irregular shapes of wicker articles more smoothly, evenly, and rapidly. The Lloyd Company remains one of the mainstays of Menominee industry today, producing wicker lawn furniture. Several of my high school friends’ parents were Lloyd employees.


The trolley tracks were still in place in Menominee and Marinette at the end of World War II, though the twin cities had switched from trolleys to buses in 1928. I didn’t ride the bus much as a kid. We didn’t go that far as children, and then we started driving ourselves as teens. Some of my high school friends didn’t have access to a car, so they spent Friday nights riding the bus nonstop around the circular twin city “loop”, sitting in the back seats and fooling around. The driver usually didn’t mind since it provided some entertaining diversion, and it was a cheap way to meet girls and have fun on a Friday night.


The Agricultural School was on the Western edge of the Menominee city limits, located in a stand of Norway Pines along the route that we traveled between town and our house on the river. By the time we moved to Riverside Boulevard in 1946, the school had been replaced by Jordan College, a Catholic seminary. We would frequently see groups of young student priests jogging up and down Riverside Boulevard for exercise. Other than those forays, however, we never saw them anywhere else, and our impression was that they were locked up in the building the rest of the time. In modern days the former Jordan College became the home to the local YMCA whose swimming pool my father considered a godsend for his “Arthur-itis”.


All the children in our family – myself, Steven, Peter, Vicki – were born at St. Joseph’s-Lloyd Hospital. Our family must have enjoyed good health because I have no recollection of later family hospital stays by anybody. The hospital was built on Ogden Ave. in 1891, next to what was then the Epiphany Church. It was staffed by the Sisters of the Third Order of St. Francis who traveled from lumber camp to lumber camp soliciting money. When local industrialist Marshall Lloyd died in 1927, he left his fortune to the people of Menominee for health care, and a new hospital (later renamed St. Joseph’s-Lloyd) was erected next door.


The Menominee Depot is a stopping point for the Chicago and Northwestern Railroad which operated to the south through Green Bay and then Milwaukee and Chicago. In the early 1950’s I traveled by railroad to and from Antioch College, about an 18-hour trip which required sleeping in my seat. I changed trains in midtown Chicago each trip and made it a tradition to go to the nearby skid row area and buy a wool cap in a discount haberdashery that I’d discovered. When Katja and I were engaged, we made the trip together to and from Menominee via the C&NW.


Menominee’s winter weather was tempered by being on a massive body of water, but we were still occasionally subject to major snowstorms like the one pictured here from the early 1900’s. We lived for a while on Sheridan Road (formerly Main St.), and, when a major storm hit, we neighborhood kids would build snow forts on opposite sides of the street and spend hours engaged in snowball wars. As a teenager one of my tasks was shoveling the sidewalks outside the downtown drugstore and my dad’s law office. I was determined to shovel away every single flake of snow. Big storms presented a challenge.

G-Mail Comments

-Gayle CL (2-5): David.....I love this letter....Such great history.. I never knew u fell in the lake...I can't imagine how scary that must have been...That post card of ur grandfathers. Building looks familiar... What a memory you u and love to all....please keep writing...,)