Day 235
I have been working on some things that are not ready for posting yet. This will be yet another entry to keep the 365 going. One hundred and thirty days left to go, just over four months.
Some of the stories I have posted will end up in book. It has been a journey of discipline. If I would just sit down and write I could have several books done already. At least this helps.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Thursday, June 30, 2016
Wednesday, June 29, 2016
Just Another Day
Day 234
There's a new restaurant on M-18 north of M-55 next to County 100, Randy's Family Restaurant (formerly BR Guest) is open after some remodeling. I haven't been inside yet so I can't comment on the food or service. I am told it was taken over by the previous owner (Family Restaurant).
Another beautiful day here in Houghton Lake and I didn't make it out fishing. But I have heard the fishing is excellent right now and from the number of very large fish being caught this early, I would say the winter kill was mild. But that was to be expected after the short number of days we had ice on the lake.
There's still plenty of season left so I will get out there and I look forward to sharing some great pictures and stories with you.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
There's a new restaurant on M-18 north of M-55 next to County 100, Randy's Family Restaurant (formerly BR Guest) is open after some remodeling. I haven't been inside yet so I can't comment on the food or service. I am told it was taken over by the previous owner (Family Restaurant).
Another beautiful day here in Houghton Lake and I didn't make it out fishing. But I have heard the fishing is excellent right now and from the number of very large fish being caught this early, I would say the winter kill was mild. But that was to be expected after the short number of days we had ice on the lake.
There's still plenty of season left so I will get out there and I look forward to sharing some great pictures and stories with you.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Tuesday, June 28, 2016
Papa's Key of Life...Revisited
Day 233
Due to recent events in my life, I decided to post this story again.
Due to recent events in my life, I decided to post this story again.
Papa's
Key of Life
by
Kenneth
A. Stephenson
He
walked up the center aisle past the rows of gunmetal gray folding
chairs. His steps were slow and deliberate like the pendulum of a
clock. Eyes downcast, watching as first one shoe would appear then
the other. There was a small scuff mark on the left toe, it would
have to be buffed out. Looking up he saw the bronze metal casket with
golden handles. The right half was closed and draped in a blanket of
red roses. The left half was open showing the ruffled, lily white
satin liner. His mind drifted back to just a few weeks ago.
“Papa,
why do people die?”
The
old man hesitated a moment and then continued to shuffle forward down
the hall until he and the boy were standing in front of the dusty
grandfather clock. He opened the glass door on the front, reached
down and picked up the key. He reached up, opened the clock face and
inserted the key. The boy could here the sharp click, click, click as
Papa wound the clock spring. The key was placed back in the body of
the clock and with a gentle nudge the pendulum started to swing side
to side in a slow hypnotic rhythm. Papa turned to the boy with a
thoughtful expression.
“People
are very much like this old grandfather clock. When we are born an
angel comes down from heaven with a key. The key of life.”
They
walked back to the study and Papa sat down in his favorite chair next
to the fireplace. The boy climbed up into his lap and snuggled into
the crook of his arm.
“The
angel inserts the key right here”, he said pointing to the boys
belly button. “You see? Then the angel gives it a turn and winds up
the life spring inside us. When the spring of life winds down our
souls are set free, like a moth leaves it's cocoon and then flies
away. How long we live depends on how many turns of the key we
receive.”
The
boys mother took his hand in hers bringing back to the present. She
wiped away a tear. The boy peered over the side of the casket. It
looked wrong somehow. This was not his Papa. This looked more like a
department store mannequin, plastic and cold. He remembered what his
Papa had told him. This was just a cocoon, the soul had already
departed.
His
mother smiled and said, “Your Papa loved roses.”
The
boy watched the delicate wings flex next to a red petal.
“He
sure does.”
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Monday, June 27, 2016
Why?...A Poem
Day 232
Why?
by
Kenneth A. Stephenson
Why?
Did you feel I didn't care?
Did you feel unloved?
Did you carry a secret, so hideous,
I wouldn't understand?
Could you truly have believed
You were completely alone?
You wouldn't trust me to understand.
What could I have done?
Should I have done
Something different?
Could I have done more?
I will try to make sense of this,
But I will never understand.
You are gone.
And I will never know why.
You are gone.
Why?
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Sunday, June 26, 2016
Fishing With My Dad
Day 231
In his twenties, my father was an avid sportsman. He would hunt in Michigan's upper peninsula. Using an an old, rundown, travel trailer for base camp.
I never heard what had happened to the hunting camp or the trailer. I suspect it may have been left on
state owned land, or that it had deteriorated to the point it wasn't useful anymore. I believe someone either assumed control of the hunting spot, or stripped the trailer for the valuable metals.
My father also loved to go fishing. He would go fishing for anything; fishing for salmon with a hook to smelt dipping with a net. If we had lived in southern California, I'm sure, he would have walked the beaches at midnight when the grunion were running.
He had several tackle boxes filled with various sized lures, jigheads, hooks, sinkers, leaders. ect. A dozen fishing poles from a cane pole to a deep water rod and reel. He had a hand held ice fishing paddle, nothing more than twenty yards of fishing line wrapped around a rectangular piece of wood. Many far north tribes fish this way with very light (2 lb.) fishing line. Fish don't have much fight when they are cold. Just wrap the line once around your finger and wait for the tug. Then just pull the line up by hand wrapping it around the piece of wood as you go.
Like many sportsman, he tried get his wife (my mother) involved in the hopes she would love doing these things also. She didn't. Like many spouses at that time, she had no interest in the outdoor lifestyle. Then my brothers and I came along.
My oldest brother will talk about going fishing with my dad, for salmon and other large game fish. By the time I came along, ten years later, dad was in his thirties and slowing down. No more wading into a cold river for salmon or trolling for walleye (I never caught a walleye until I was fifty-three).We went after panfish, primarily perch. Although we did occasionally catch a rock bass or bluegill.
Dad would wake my middle brother and I at 4:30 am (by this time my oldest brother had flown the coop), so we could get to Anchor Bay before sunrise. Anchor Bay was the northeast section of Lake St Clair near Detroit. When we arrived at the bait shop/boat launch, dad would buy three dozen shiny minnows and two dozen fat nightcrawlers.
We usually went fishing in the late summer and early fall. The reason being that the boat launch was in a canal and lake access was under a small road overpass. We had gone fishing one time in the spring. We almost didn't make it out of the canal. A combination of winter runoff and morning high tide made it near impossible to get under the bridge and into the lake. We made it but just barely.
By the time I was old enough to be really interested in fishing, my dad was in his mid forties. We always followed the same routine. Drive the boat to a likely spot (one spot was the same as another), drop anchor and setup our two hook fishing rigs (one upper hook, one lower hook).
These rigs known as crappie, perch or panfish rigs, were made to be dropped to the bottom using a lead weight called a sinker. Then you would hold the line taught so you could feel a fish hit (bite) the bait. AA slight jerk and the fish would be on the hook ready to be reeled in.
Dad would hook his minnows through the back. I would cut off a two inch piece of worm and thread it onto my hooks with a small piece hanging off the end.
We would stay on the lake from 6 am to 4 pm. Mom made us sandwiches and dad would buy some pop and candy bars at the bait shop. If we were hungry we ate a sandwich or a candy bar.
On an average day I would catch a dozen fish. Several big enough to keep. If my dad caught half a dozen it was a great day. I'm not trying to say I was a better fisherman. We just had two different fishing styles. I would constantly bounce my sinker on the bottom causing my bait to move up and down (later I would find out this was called 'jigging').
My dad would bait his hooks, drop them down to the bottom, set his rod and reel down on the boat with the tip hanging over the side. Then, he would adjust the boat seat so he could lay back and pull his fishing cap down to keep the sun out of his eyes. He would claim he was watching the tip of the rod. When a fish bites, the tip twitches.
About thirty to forty minutes later, he would push back his cap, stretch and yawn. Suddenly he would lunge for his fishing pole. "Damn," he would exclaim. "It got away." Then he would reel up his rig and the hooks would be bare, both minnows gone. "Well, they got my bait."
Through suppressed laughter I would tell him, "Dad. The fish stole your bait, ten minutes after you fell asleep."
"I was not sleeping. Anyway you haven't caught any fish either."
"You were snoring so loud, you scared the fish away."
Today my oldest brother has a pontoon boat kept a marina on Houghton Lake. When the weather is right we head out on the lake. Many is the day we reminisce about fishing with our dad and how much he would have loved fishing from the pontoon boat. Especially with the fish finder.
He probably wouldn't have caught any more fish than he used to, but at least he would have been a lot more comfortable waiting for his fishing pole to twitch.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
In his twenties, my father was an avid sportsman. He would hunt in Michigan's upper peninsula. Using an an old, rundown, travel trailer for base camp.
I never heard what had happened to the hunting camp or the trailer. I suspect it may have been left on
My father also loved to go fishing. He would go fishing for anything; fishing for salmon with a hook to smelt dipping with a net. If we had lived in southern California, I'm sure, he would have walked the beaches at midnight when the grunion were running.
He had several tackle boxes filled with various sized lures, jigheads, hooks, sinkers, leaders. ect. A dozen fishing poles from a cane pole to a deep water rod and reel. He had a hand held ice fishing paddle, nothing more than twenty yards of fishing line wrapped around a rectangular piece of wood. Many far north tribes fish this way with very light (2 lb.) fishing line. Fish don't have much fight when they are cold. Just wrap the line once around your finger and wait for the tug. Then just pull the line up by hand wrapping it around the piece of wood as you go.
Like many sportsman, he tried get his wife (my mother) involved in the hopes she would love doing these things also. She didn't. Like many spouses at that time, she had no interest in the outdoor lifestyle. Then my brothers and I came along.
My oldest brother will talk about going fishing with my dad, for salmon and other large game fish. By the time I came along, ten years later, dad was in his thirties and slowing down. No more wading into a cold river for salmon or trolling for walleye (I never caught a walleye until I was fifty-three).We went after panfish, primarily perch. Although we did occasionally catch a rock bass or bluegill.
Dad would wake my middle brother and I at 4:30 am (by this time my oldest brother had flown the coop), so we could get to Anchor Bay before sunrise. Anchor Bay was the northeast section of Lake St Clair near Detroit. When we arrived at the bait shop/boat launch, dad would buy three dozen shiny minnows and two dozen fat nightcrawlers.
We usually went fishing in the late summer and early fall. The reason being that the boat launch was in a canal and lake access was under a small road overpass. We had gone fishing one time in the spring. We almost didn't make it out of the canal. A combination of winter runoff and morning high tide made it near impossible to get under the bridge and into the lake. We made it but just barely.
These rigs known as crappie, perch or panfish rigs, were made to be dropped to the bottom using a lead weight called a sinker. Then you would hold the line taught so you could feel a fish hit (bite) the bait. AA slight jerk and the fish would be on the hook ready to be reeled in.
Dad would hook his minnows through the back. I would cut off a two inch piece of worm and thread it onto my hooks with a small piece hanging off the end.
We would stay on the lake from 6 am to 4 pm. Mom made us sandwiches and dad would buy some pop and candy bars at the bait shop. If we were hungry we ate a sandwich or a candy bar.
On an average day I would catch a dozen fish. Several big enough to keep. If my dad caught half a dozen it was a great day. I'm not trying to say I was a better fisherman. We just had two different fishing styles. I would constantly bounce my sinker on the bottom causing my bait to move up and down (later I would find out this was called 'jigging').
My dad would bait his hooks, drop them down to the bottom, set his rod and reel down on the boat with the tip hanging over the side. Then, he would adjust the boat seat so he could lay back and pull his fishing cap down to keep the sun out of his eyes. He would claim he was watching the tip of the rod. When a fish bites, the tip twitches.
About thirty to forty minutes later, he would push back his cap, stretch and yawn. Suddenly he would lunge for his fishing pole. "Damn," he would exclaim. "It got away." Then he would reel up his rig and the hooks would be bare, both minnows gone. "Well, they got my bait."
Through suppressed laughter I would tell him, "Dad. The fish stole your bait, ten minutes after you fell asleep."
"I was not sleeping. Anyway you haven't caught any fish either."
"You were snoring so loud, you scared the fish away."
Today my oldest brother has a pontoon boat kept a marina on Houghton Lake. When the weather is right we head out on the lake. Many is the day we reminisce about fishing with our dad and how much he would have loved fishing from the pontoon boat. Especially with the fish finder.
He probably wouldn't have caught any more fish than he used to, but at least he would have been a lot more comfortable waiting for his fishing pole to twitch.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Saturday, June 25, 2016
Houghton Lake Fourth of July
Day 230
The fourth of July is just over a week away. So I thought I would give you a heads up on what's happening around Houghton Lake and surrounding areas next weekend.
Fireworks displays:
The fourth of July is just over a week away. So I thought I would give you a heads up on what's happening around Houghton Lake and surrounding areas next weekend.
Fireworks displays:
- Houghton Lake...Sunday July 3, 2016 at Southwest corner of lake at the Houghton Lake Airport at dusk.
- Higgins Lake/Roscommon...Monday July 4, 2016 at the Fireman's Training Grounds at 10:15pm
- St Helen...Saturday July 2, 2016 at Airport off Airport Rd at dusk.
NCAC Craft Show July 1-3 in Houghton Lake.
EAA Fly-In at Houghton Lake State Airport on July 2
Pig Roast and Car Show at Jimmy's Collision July 3
Lake James boat parade July 3
I believe both St Helen and Roscommon have 4th of July parades but I can't find any info.
C'mon up and see us. Do some fishing and play some golf (traditional or disc). We'd love to see ya.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
Friday, June 24, 2016
Life is Like a Spinning Wheel
Day 229
I have so much that needs to be done. And I don't want to do any of it. I need to cut the grass, correction, I need to cut the weeds. The grass doesn't grow much.
I need to replace a window on the front of my mobile home. I've had a plywood sheet covering the opening all winter and my place is starting to look like a trailer park trailer.
The deck needs to be refinished but with the luck my brother has had with his, I'm afraid it would be a waste of time and money. First, he tried Thompsons, it contained wax that melted on hot summer days and lasted one year. Then he tried a highly touted, and expensive, solid stain that didn't last a year before it started to peel off.
I haven't put my two man boat in the water yet. With my breathing issues the past few months I fear I won't be able to load the boat back into my truck without gasping for breath. Some good Samaritan might think I'm having a heart attack and call 911.
I've been eating too much of the wrong foods and I have no energy.
I start each day with good intentions. I eat breakfast. I feel tired. I take a nap. I wake up feeling worse than when I went to sleep. I drink coffee trying to revive. I eat lunch and take another nap. I get up and drink more coffee. I'm getting jittery from the coffee.
Somehow find the energy to get to the mailbox and back. I need to rest in my recliner. I fall asleep. I wake up and have dinner. After dinner I want to sleep but if I do I won't be able to sleep tonight.
Around 8 pm I wake up. The day is over. Too late to do any work. I watch TV.
Eleven pm is bed time. I take some Nyquil to help me sleep. I read a book until I stay awake.
I get up in the morning with good intentions. My life is like a spinning wheel, spinning around and around but going nowhere.
OMG! I'm a reality TV show.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
I have so much that needs to be done. And I don't want to do any of it. I need to cut the grass, correction, I need to cut the weeds. The grass doesn't grow much.
I need to replace a window on the front of my mobile home. I've had a plywood sheet covering the opening all winter and my place is starting to look like a trailer park trailer.
The deck needs to be refinished but with the luck my brother has had with his, I'm afraid it would be a waste of time and money. First, he tried Thompsons, it contained wax that melted on hot summer days and lasted one year. Then he tried a highly touted, and expensive, solid stain that didn't last a year before it started to peel off.
I haven't put my two man boat in the water yet. With my breathing issues the past few months I fear I won't be able to load the boat back into my truck without gasping for breath. Some good Samaritan might think I'm having a heart attack and call 911.
I've been eating too much of the wrong foods and I have no energy.
I start each day with good intentions. I eat breakfast. I feel tired. I take a nap. I wake up feeling worse than when I went to sleep. I drink coffee trying to revive. I eat lunch and take another nap. I get up and drink more coffee. I'm getting jittery from the coffee.
Somehow find the energy to get to the mailbox and back. I need to rest in my recliner. I fall asleep. I wake up and have dinner. After dinner I want to sleep but if I do I won't be able to sleep tonight.
Around 8 pm I wake up. The day is over. Too late to do any work. I watch TV.
Eleven pm is bed time. I take some Nyquil to help me sleep. I read a book until I stay awake.
I get up in the morning with good intentions. My life is like a spinning wheel, spinning around and around but going nowhere.
OMG! I'm a reality TV show.
Until tomorrow,
Ken
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