Been A While

I know it has been a while since my last post but I have actually been very busy. With my new website for my fundraiser, another twitter account, another facebook account, another blog, and getting over my cold I have had little time to think of much else. The good think is I have been so busy with all this and working training for my fundraiser adventure that my mind has taken it easy on me.
It has been almost 3 weeks since my last anxiety issue and I have been sleeping great without the aid of prescription medication. I have had no stress and have been very much at peace with the world around me. I think my mind has so many good things to think about right now that it has no time to dwell on the crazy little things that set it in the wrong direction. And even though the fundraiser to fight cancer is about a bad thing, the fundraiser itself is truly a good thing and is probably helping me mentally more than anyone can imagine.
Maybe the fundraiser was simply my minds idea to keep itself occupied?

Scratch That

It only took me 8 weeks to figure out that the reason I was having so many anxiety attacks while I was recovering from my broken ankle surgery was the darn pain meds. Last Friday I kept one of my dear friends up until 3:00am becuase I was freaking out for no reason, and over the 7 weeks prior to that, I have spent many nights medicated because of similar issues.
Well I have not taken any pain medication for my healing ankle since last Friday and my nights have been wonderful. No crazy dreams. No pacing. No up and down from the sofa to the chair and then back again.
It was simply the hydrocodone that was doing it and to be honest with you, it is much easier living with a little pain and getting a good night sleep than it is to take that stuff. It is no wonder so many kids are into those prescription drugs. Not only did that particular medication take away the pain, but it made me so restless. It gave me dreams like I have never experienced, and then when it was combined with the anxiety meds needed to deal with the side affects, it pretty much made me a zombie.
Oh sure, most people like to escape once in awhile but that is ridiculous. Put that stuff in the hands of a minor, or an adult for that matter, who is not strong enough, or wise enough to deal with life head on and you are asking for a problem.
I still had 11 doses left and they are now in the trash. Not for me. BAAAADDD NEWS!
On a lighter note, I have begun working out and training for my Michigan Coast to Coast for a Cure fund raiser, Pedal and Paddle to Fight Cancer. I made some major changes in my eating and began paddling my kayak and using my Total Gym and I feel great. 321 days from now we will see just how serious I was in preparing.
If you would like to know more about my fundraiser check out my blog at
www.micoast2coast4acure.blogspot.com, or go to my facebook page Pedal and Paddle to Fight Cancer, or hit my website www.michigancoast2coast4acure.webs.com.

A Proud Day for Dad

With the youth deer hunting weekend now upon us I am reminded of a day several years ago when I took my oldest son, Matthew, and my nephew, Billy, out for the youth deer hunt. My son was not 14 yet so he was restricted to using a bow and arrow, whereas my nephew was 15 so he was allowed to carry a rifle. I had placed two treestands in a nice white pine tree in the middle of a funnel of mixed pine and hardwoods crossing a field between two oak ridges. I had taken many deer in the past from this same tree and figured it would be a great place for the boys to at least see some deer. I placed third stand in another pine tree just 10 yards away. My son and I sat in the tree with 2 stands while my nephew sat in the single stand.
Action was slow for the first couple hours of our afternoon/evening hunt. Aside from the pesky redsquirrel that seems to bark at every deer hunter, the woods seemed lifeless until about 1 hour before dark. As if from no where a deer suddenly appeared just 30 yards away. Matthew and I could see it but it was hidden from my nephews view. We could see right away that it was a decent little spike horn and would be a great trophy for either of the young hunters. We slowly motioned for my Billy to be still and watch, as the deer made its' way directly toward us.
The young buck made a steady walk, on a straight line toward my son and I, closeing the gap to just 10 yards. My nephew was watching the whole time just waiting for Matthew to release an arrow. What my Billy did not realize was that the little spike horn never offered a decent broadside shot for my son to place an arrow. Then came one of the proudest moments of my life.
My son leaned over and whispered to me, " I can not get a shot so why don't we let Billy shoot him?"
Even though the buck was in easy range, my son understood the angle was wrong and that it was actually perfect for his cousin to place an easy shot with the rifle right behind the deers' shoulder.
"Are you sure?" I asked my son, surprised at his maturity and responsiblity in the situation.
"Yep" he replied, and we motioned for Billy to take him.
No more was needed to be said and a shot came instantly from my nephews' tree. A perfect shot put the buck on the ground just 15 yards from where it stood when my nephew pulled the trigger.

Tip: Teaching a young hunter that it is all about the hunt and not about the kill will instill a sense of respect for the game and responsible hunting in their future.
It is the hunt that makes the kill special.
Not the kill that makes the hunt special.

Like a Kid Again

My anxiety level is slowly rising, but it is a good anxiety. Saturday is the opening day of the youth waterfowl and is a day I have looked forward to since my oldest son turned 12 nine years ago. It is a day that is for the kids, all about the kids, and feeling like a kid once again. As the sun rises tomorrw, and our gear is loaded, my son Bryan and I will head north about 50 miles. He will get to play hookie from school tomorrow and spend the day with me at work. I am sure much of the days conversations will revolve around duck and goose hunting.
The day will drag on, seeming endless, much like today is. Tomorrow evening will be one of the longest nights of the year for both of us. Nothing to do but wait. Wait for the 4:30am alarm to sound. Getting dressed in our hunting gear and firing up the grill for fresh grilled breakfast burritos and some sweet rolls that my friend Matt and his niece will be bringing.
Matt and Jordyn will be making a 1 hour drive in the early hours of the predawn morning to meet us for breakfast and the excitement of the opening morning of youth waterfowl hunting. With this being my sons third season and Jordyns second, both kids are well aware of the fact that it will be an exciting morning. Our kayak and canoe paddle in the darkness, trying to avoid getting stuck on one of the hundreds of stumps that fill the reservoir, is always exciting. It is a trek across the lake that often stirs the resident Canada Geese into a few early morning groans. There will be hundreds of ducks and only a few kids, scattered with their adult partners, throughout several square miles of prime waterfowl habitat. Our kids know that when the first hen mallard makes her single "quack" wake up call, the sky will soon awaken with the sounds and sight of ducks from every direction.
Woodducks, literally hundreds of woodducks. Teal, both blue winged and green winged. Mallards, young and old. The possible Redhead, pintail,scaup, or widgeon. And of course, the great Canada Goose. Both Bryan and Jordyn are familiar with the speed at which the little butterball woodducks can zip into, and then instantly, away from the decoys. The flying v wedge of the seemingly supersonic teal is a sight to behold as they buzz by the decoys just to take a glance and be gone, down the lake shore, only to make a big sweeping turn and zip by to take another quick peek at our spread. Once in awhile those little speed demons will drop into the decoys on the first or second pass, but if they are close enough on the fly by "cut em", or "take em" come in a quick shout from Matt or I, in an attempt to get one of the youngsters on the birds and fire a shot before they feathered f14s disappear.
The sound of Canadian honkers waking at sunrise and taking to the air, heading for their morning feeding grounds, will send chills down my spine. Hopefully, a couple hours later, when the geese return from feeding, we can coax them into a small spread of goose decoys and one of the kids can bring down their first goose. Neither my son Bryan or my friends niece Jordyn has taken a goose. I can see the excitement in them just from their body language whenever we hear geese. They are like the 747 Jumbo airliners when it comes to waterfowl, and though they are somewhat slow, they are not always easy to fool, and even harder to bring down.
As I write this my heart races from sentence to sentence as if I were there, holding the gun myself. Having been in these scenarios several times while hunting, I know first hand what a rush it is. I know what it is like to pull the trigger and see that first waterfowl of the season tumble from the sky. It might be the first shot of the season or the 21st shot of the season, either way it is a great feeling. I love the hunt, but I have come to love the childrens hunt even more.
As adults, we are not allowed to have a gun in possession this weekend and yet I am probably more excited then I ever am when it is my time to hunt. It is for the kids, and it is such a wonderful feeling to introduce them to the great outdoors and be there to share in memories that they will never forget.

We'll Meet Again

I was just a child when we first met. You were no more than an infant. 3rd grade for me in a new school and a new neighborhood and you not old enough to remember much of it. Your older sisters and I grew to become good friends while you were still just a happy go lucky, yet sometimes pesty little girl. Then came the end of my 7th grade year and we were moving again, but this time it was not just to another part of town, it was hours apart, and there was a heaviness in my heart.
Over our 4 years as neighbors our families had become like one family. Though you were the youngest, I never forgot you or your brother and sisters. I ofter wondered what you were up to. How was school going for all of you. Always wishing and praying that life was treating you well. A dozen years past yet you were all still in my heart.
One day, in my early 20s, my new wife and I decide to move to the Florida Keys and we were once again neighbors of sorts. Though we were not next door neighbors, Key Largo was small enough that we were able to stay in touch on a fairly regular basis and get reaquainted. Yes the years had changed all of us but you were still that little girl I new in Fenton. It was like being at home all over again and my other family was back in my life. Yet,once again, it was for all to short of a period.
In 1989 my oldest son was born in Key West, and Dawn and I decided it was time to move back to Michigan and raise our kids as we had been raised. I have again thought many times over the past 20 years about how you all are. From time to time, one of you would just pop into my head, without explanation, and I would ponder what your lives might be like. Did you all now have kids? Were there any grandkids for you? What each of you was doing for a living? Did you still have that curly, sandy blonde hair and like to pester your older sisters?
Just about a week ago I thought why not look on Facebook to see if I could locate any of you. Then the day before yesterday I log onto my FB account and see a message from your sister Tonya. She was just wanting my parents to get ahold of your father. I was so excited to hear from her that I probably over loaded her with questions and my personal information. 20 years had past and it was to long, I wanted to know everything.
Shortly after sending Tonya the message, I received one of the most heart breaking messages I have ever received.
You were no longer with us.
I did not want to believe it and still don't.
Why?
You were such a wonderful person. Although I did not know you much as an adult it is hard for me to believe that you could have done so wrong to have your life ended so short.
I cried that night, and again last night, and will again.
My heart is heavy for you and your family.
I pray you have found a better place.
You, Traci, are in my prayers and I will always remeber you.
I will see you again some day my friend.

Heaven and Hell

Easing my kayak down the rocky bank and into the river, my mind instantly began to wander. Thinking of the peace and quiet to be had over the next several hours as I glide silently along, no worries, just me and the river.

Shortly down stream a large blue heron wades stealth like through the shallows, searching for an unsuspecting fish or crayfish. Not more than an hour into the float, I round a bend and surprise a doe whitetail deer standing on a shallow gravel bar in the river with her triplet fawns. In between observing the many wonders nature has to offer, I spend some time tossing a fishing lure and letting my mind wander.

It is easy for the mind to wander when there is literally nothing to have to really think about. No traffic, no crowds, just me, the river and peace and quite. The quite might be broken on ocassion by the quack of a mallard duck who is startled by my sudden appearance, or the caw of a crow allerting the rest of the flock of my presence, but these are wonderful and peaceful sounds. Sounds that I can live with day in and day out. My own little piece of Heaven. But like most good things, they never seem to last long enough.

After several hours of what seemed like Heaven, I was suddenly tossed into the midst of Hell. You see, it was the 4th of July and I was now leaving the river and entering the lake into which the river flowed. What had been a quite, lazy float had now become a torrent of crashing waves, loud motors, and people, lots and lots of people. Jet skis race up and down the now 150 yard river, dodging between pleasure boats, pontoons and boats with motors that sound like they belong in Nascar vehicle. Rarely was there a gap of more than 75 yards between watercraft, each creating its own set of waves. Waves, waves, everywhere were waves. Big waves, little waves. Waves with sharp breaking tops. Slow rolling waves. More waves and boats and noise than I had ever pictured on such a small, narrow section of water.

My little 14.5 foot kayak was more like a big fishing bobber than a boat. Tossed up and down, side to side, I keep my attention on the next set of waves or where the next boat might come flying by. No longer could I just let my mind wander. Concentrating on staying upright was consumed every thought for over 1 1/2 hours until I made it to the far south end of the lake, where it was wide enough to allow some of the waves to subside. I pulled up to the shore and beached my kayak for a moment. I stretched my legs and had to laugh about my day. It was like I had been through Heaven and Hell in the course of 8 hours. It might seem strange but that is exactly why I love living in Mid Michigan.

Reliving a Ride.

At 20 minutes till 8:00 in the morning it actually hit me that I was about to attempt a 100 mile bike ride after only training for about 3 1/2 months. I figured I could do it but was skeptical about doing it in the course of a day. My goal was simply to finish, but I really wanted to do it in 10 hours or less, which is actually quite slow considering that more than half of the 300 bikes to enter would be finishing around 5 hours. As I looked around at all the bikes lining up, it become apparent to me that I might be the only one crazy enough to try it on a mountain bike with offroad tires.

At 8:27 I lined up with nine other bikes and began the journey. A steady pace was all I wanted and was not brought down as bike after bike that started behind me made their way past me. In fact it was quite a sight to see some of the better riders all lined up, front tire to rear tire, drafting as if they were on a nascar track. One line of bikes that went past was about 12 bikes long and sounded like a car coming up behind me as they pushed the wind in front of them and made their way past, giving the biker at the end of the line a free ride for a short time before that individual would pull out and make their way to the front of the pack and let someone else have their turn in the draft. As they past the wind from the pack shook my handlebars like a car on the expressway when a couple semis go by. Simply amazing.

Approaching the first feed stop, about 30 miles into the ride, I felt great. The steady drizzling rain helped to keep me cool and the training was definitely paying off. My legs and back were holding up great and the couple hills so far were not even a challenge. A couple pieces of melon and a muffin and I was on my way.

The next 15 miles or so were up one hill and down the other and I realized that the hills were not as challenging as I had expected. In fact they were my strong point. On the flats the people in front of me would slowly pull away, but when the hills came, the crest of the hill would put me almost even with them again. And though there were only a couple riders as far back as me, it really felt good to know that I could keep up with a couple.

As I closed in on the 57 mile mark it was a welcome sight to see my mother in law coming down the road to offer some encouragement and some fuel for my body. A quick gatorade and a stretch of the legs and away I went.

My legs were now starting to get weary and I knew there was a giant hill to come. My mother in law had informed me that a big percentage of the riders walk a portion of this particular hill so I should not be to concerned if I needed to do the same. I was hoping to not have to walk any of the hills but would not feel bad if had to be done, and at just 80 yards from the top of the monster at Alcona I had to get off the seat and walk it the rest of the way. I still can not figure out why my body would let me push the bike up the rest of the hill but would not allow me one more pedal. Huh?

After cresting the hill I was able to enjoy a nice coast before having to continue pedalling. My next break would come with about 25 miles left, where my wonderful wife and son were waiting for me with a couple of the volunteers. I indulged in a couple more muffins and some fruit, stretched once more and off I went. Now wearier than ever and wondering what I had gotten myself into. I was sure I could make it now, but my legs and butt were really starting to feel the ride and I started to question myself as to just how sure I was that I could make it.

Just 8 or 9 miles down the road wife and son waited again, and wished me well as a grabbed a drink and a couple crackers before heading off on the last 11 miles.

The final 11 miles was by far the hardest 11 miles I have ever spent on a bike. I could sit not more than a minute or two, then I would have to stand and pedal. Alternating between sitting, stand, pedalling, and coasting, that last section seemed like an eternity. I was never going to make it. Then out of nowhere a car came by and slowed down by my side. The passengers of the car cheered me on and said I could do it, only a few more miles, great job. That was all I needed and before I knew it I could see my family and the timing lights at the finish line.

8 hours 59 minutes and 56 seconds after starting I crossed the finish line. Legs aching, neck sore, and fingers numb, but I made it. As my son kindly loaded my bike into the truck and I sat in the car a chill came over me. I had not really paid any attention to the fact that it rained, a cool rain, for the past nine hours, and now that I was not moving it was actually quite chilly. Or maybe it was just the simple fact that my body was drained.

A motel room was calling, and do not get me wrong about this because I am definitely not a bath man, but the next twenty minutes soaking in the warm tub was one of the most wonderful feeling I have ever experienced, and was enough time to convince myself that I really did it and was definitely going to do it again next year.

Thanks to my wonderful family and friends for all the support.

Oh What a Beautiful Morning

3:00 a.m. came extremely early, and as I woke my 12 year old son Bryan his first words were, "I am to tired to go", but I knew he would not miss the day we had ahead of us. Waking so early was a must as it was Saturday, September 19, and was the opener of the 2009 youth waterfowl hunting weekend and I was sure all Bryan needed was to wake up a bit and clear the cob webs out of his head. I had loaded all of our gear the night before so all that was needed was to get dressed and drive to Jays Sporting Goods in Clare, where we would be meeting my friend and co-worker Matt Miller and his niece Jordan. Jordan was just 10 years old and, from talking to Matt, she was quite excited about the days hunt. With the short drive from our home in Beaverton, Bryan and I arrived at Jays where we chatted briefly with Jordan and Matt then headed out for our 45 minute drive north to my favorite early season waterfowl hole.

We arrived at the lake around 4:45, and as Bryan, Jordan and Matt unloaded our vehicles, I set up the grill and started cooking breakfast burritos. The grill was a welcome sight to us all as we were hungry and the kids were a bit chilly with the temperature holding around 40 degrees. As we all dished up a burrito and warmed by the fire, Jordan and Bryan loosened up a bit and began to chat. Jordan had said she really did not care if she shot a duck, she would be happy to just see one. I think she was a bit doubtful when I told her that not only would she see a duck, she would probably see a couple hundred ducks, and I was sure she would get her first duck. She just smiled and finished her breakfast. Bryan was a bit more confident as this was his second trip to this particular spot and he knew we would see plenty of waterfowl. Once we finished eating breakfast, Matt let his dog Sage out of the truck and told her to load up in their canoe while Bryan and I got into our 14.5 foot tandem kayak and were ready to lead the way across the lake to hunting spot in a small point of cattails on the west shore.



As we pushed off shore and into the lake we were greeted with fog, thick, dense, white fog. It was like our paddles were cutting through the center of a 3 Musketeers candy bar. I can normally make the trip across the lake in 5 - 10 minutes but the fog was worse than I had ever seen on the lake. Using lights to try to stay in the main river channel and avoid the flooded stump fields, we eased our way toward the west shore. We did get off track and into the stumps for a couple minutes but were lucky enough not to get hung up and were able to make our way back into the river channel. Once we entered the open water of the river, and it was heading west, I knew we were not far from our destination, and when the river made a sharp bend to the south, that was my clue to head due west for a 50 yard shot through the weeds and stumps to our hideout in the small point of cattails between a small bay to our north and another to our south. Just prior to the cattail point Matt placed decoys to the north and Bryan and I placed decoys to the south. Keeping all the decoys within 20 yards would allow for some close range shooting for the kids once the sun started to come up and the morning flights took to the sky.



Tucked into the cattails, we all sat quietly, just waiting for that first lonely hen to quack, or the soft whistle of a wood duck waking to the rays of the morning sun. With daylight starting to appear over the tree line across the lake, it was as if someone reached into the center of the lake and pushed the fog away just for us. As dark gave way to the pale grey morning sky we were suddenly able to see a half mile in any direction. The first hen of the morning sounded her lonely just as a wood duck gave a subtle whistle. Shortly thereafter the first ducks of the morning took to the air.

"Get ready" whispered Matt to Jordan as a couple wood ducks made there way through the brisk morning air and headed in our direction. Before Jordan could even think about a shot the little feather covered lightning bolts zipped by. Just as fast as those appeared and disappeared a few more were in the air.

"Off to the right",

"10:00 oclock high"

"Here they come'

In and out flew the speedy little ducks, some times only one, other times 4 or five at a time. Once or twice they would drop into our decoys just briefly before jumping back into the air and heading to another part of the lake. I was finally able to warm Bryan early enough when the next couple wood ducks approached and his little pump 20 gauge shattered the silence of the morning. That was all it took to get him going. Although he did not connect, he was now ready to roll and not shy about shooting. When I said "take em" , he fired. Shot after shot came unsuccessfully but he was not about to give up. Jordan had yet to fire a shot when a nice little woody approached from the left and Matt told her to take it. One quick shot and she had her first duck. The little wood duck was able to make its' way into the cattails before Matt released his dog into the water, but Sage is a wonderful hunting dog and was able to retrieve the bird from deep into the tangle of cattails. As Matt and Jordan came around the point of cattails from retrieveing her duck, the smile on Jordans' face was almost to big to fit on her face. A moment I will never forget.

We were barely able to enjoy Jordans success when Bryan spotted a duck coming in from our right and he put it down real quick. A second shot to finish it off, and Bryan now had a wood duck for himself. What a day already and it had been barely a half hour since we tucked ourselves into our hiding spot. We were obviously well concealed as the morning flight continued right in front of us and offered many opportunities for shots. A small group of wood ducks came rocketing in from the right and with a quick mount of his pump 20 gauge and a squeeze of the trigger one of the flock tumbled to the water. The bird immediately uprighted itself and headed for some tall weeds. I told Bryan to take another shot but it was to late as the duck disappeared. Matt sent out Sage for a recovery but she was unsuccessful. Even with our help the duck was not to be found. Bryan was a little bummed but I explained to him that it will happen to every waterfowl hunter at some point in time and not to get to bummed about it. With that said we made our way back to our spot for a few more minutes before Bryan and I took off for some jump shooting and hopefully to push some birds toward Jordan and Matt who would remain on the decoy sets.

With Bryan in the front seat of my tandem kayak and his gun at the ready, we made our way through the many bays and canals around the lake shore. Wood ducks and mallards flushed from just about every little nook and cranny offering Bryan a few shots and sending ducks in every direction. From time to time we could hear a shot or two coming from the area of Matt and Jordan. As we crossed the main lake and started heading north on the shoreline where our partners were waiting over the decoys, a nice drake wood duck bolted from the cattails straight in front of Bryan and he dropped it immediately. A couple shots from Jordans area followed as a couple dozen wood ducks took flight along the shoreline in front of us.

As we rounded the point of cattails we could see Matt and Jordan were picking up there decoys. Bryan said that he had taken another nice drake giving him 2 ducks for the morning and with another big smile Jordan announced that she had taken her 3 wood duck limit.

I can honestly say there are very few moments in my life that have or will rival that.

OH WHAT A BEAUTIFUL MORNING!

My Soul Mate!

June 25th, 1982 was by far, the most important day of my life. It was on that day that my wife and I went on our first date. It was a bit strange as I had never really considered dating her. Not that she was not beautiful, because she was certainly "hot", with a body to kill for. It was just that I was never really much of one for dating. My time was spent on more productive things like hunting, partying, fishing,partying, trapping, partying and partying. I trapped and helped my father paint houses and install floor covering all through my childhood, providing me with all the spending money an adolescent boy could ever want, but spending it on dating seemed like a waste of my hard earned money.
Why would I spend my money on taking a girl to a movie, or out to dinner when I could by a new shotgun, or fishing gear, go skiing with the buddies or to a concert. Lots of headbanging in those days. Of course there was always the cost of mind altering, recreational activities also, but we will not go into those details, it was just a part of my life back then. Then came June of 1982, the summer between my junior and senior year in high school.
I was playing basketball with a neighbor when my brother and his girlfriend , along with her best friend Dawn, both of whom were also in my graduating class, showed up and asked me if I wanted to go to a Blue Oyster Cult Concert. A concert? Duh! Yeah, and it didn't seem like a date to me as I thought I was just tagging along for a good time. We partied, we rocked, we had a great time and I asked to see her again, then again and again.
I was hooked from that first moment, June 25th 1982. We immediately bonded. I let her look into my soul. We talked, we laughed, we kissed goodnight, and several months later we made love. I had honestly never wanted to have sex with another girl, but Dawn was different. My heart belonged to her and I prayed that she would always want me in her life. It was the first time for both of us and it was great. A bit awkward, but great.
Now 28+ years later we are still together. Still the only sexual partners either of us have ever had, and she is the only one I have ever wanted. She has given me 3 wonderful sons and 2 grandsons. She has always been there for me when I was down. She puts up with all the BS that I could possibly throw at her and continues to love me in return. She made me my sauteed peaches and ice cream last night for Gods sake. I love her more every day and pray we live to be 100 just so that I will have more time with her.
If anyone wonders if there are such things as soul mates I would have to say yes. From the deepest part of my being, yes, for I have found mine.
I love you Dawn

What was I doing yesterday that I did not have time to post a blog?
Huh?
Worked 4 hours and was not all that busy at work.
Work is the only place that I have internet accessability.
Tweeted a bit.
Checked facebook.
I think I posted on Studio 30+.
Closed 3 deals at work for a total of about 1 hour of work.
Worked a bit on companies website, (a little bit).
Spent about an hour at work cleaning up and finishing stuff that co-worker should have done.
Had lunch, a whole 15 minutes of my day.
Checked inventory, another 15 minutes.
Posted a few photos of my drawings on Studio 30+.
Went home, watched a movie, bed early.
What a wonderful day it was.

Why Me?

With the first touch of my pencil tip to my paper I step into my work. The first mark of graphite on paper is like a tip toe into a room of silent observers. Where am I going? What have I gotten Myself into?
From one line to another my footsteps grow heavier and my pencil leads the way into a new adventure. An outline soon becomes and image and my feet have found the map. They now know where to take me, but how do they get me there.
Shades begin to fill in the space between the lines and my steady walk across the paper becomes an emersion into the piece itself. Swimming amongst the graphite and paper particles, I begin to see the piece from within.
A dark line here, a black spot there, looking out from within. I see the back side of my art. I am surrounded by wonder. The flatness of the paper begins to take on a new dimension, appearing round, but that is not possible. I see it. It is there.
Just around that corner of brilliant must be the total darkness of the back side of the moon. Beyond that I emerge to the surface, remove myself, and take a look from the outside in.
It's OK, but the shade in the corner of the eye is off. The corner of the lip is just a bit to high. The body color must be darker.
I dive back in. This time into deep water. Totally surrounded by my work. I can see nothing but the drawing around me as my pencil takes me deeper with each stroke. I stroke until my hands cramp, then shoot to the surface and extract myself once again.
It's done. My work is complete and I have no idea why I can do it.

I was not trained. I have no formal teaching. I just see it all there. A third dimension on a 2 dimensional object.
Why me?

Who Rearranged the Keyboard?

A little nausea the last 2 days, but nothing I can't deal with. Drink lots of water, small meals, relax. Everything is good. World caves in around me last night, tried my best to deal with it. Started pacing on my crutches, which really sucks. Worked up a sweat and it wan't even that hot out. Took wife and son for a drive, bought them and ice cream, seen a few deer in the fields, mind relaxed, went home. Whew, not so bad. Sat out in the lawn with my wonderful wife and watched our 13 year old son hit apples with a golf club. Quite enjoyable actually, and took my mind off the stupid terrors running freely deep inside. Ok, calmed down enough to go inside and finally chill. Sit on couch to relax. That lasts all of about 1 minute and my mind starts running rampent again. Mouth gets dry. I can feel it coming and fight to keep that demon away. Back on the crutches to the kitchen for a fresh glass of ice water. One sip and I think I am going to drown. Fuck. Relax Frank, it is just in your head, everything is ok. Put on funny movie and just can not get into it. My mind is overwhelmed. My son moving to Wyoming is going to get in trouble and end up in jail. My marine son is going to war and I won't see him again. Something horrible is going to happen to my grandson while they are in Wyoming and I will never see them again. My 13 year old is going to crash his bicycle and end up in the hospital, no wait, he is going to drown this winter falling through the ice in front of the house. My wife is going to get some terrible illness, no wait, it's me that is going to pass before my children become true adults. My chest is tightening. Now 1:am and still awake. Have to leave for work at 7:am. Getting really tired and mind fading. Lay on couch and realize I am going to fall asleep. Very tired. Nothing can stop the sleep now. Nothing! Well, maybe the fact that I am now in debt up to my ass from this damn broke leg surgery. How about insurance for the vehicles. My 13 year old is going to be bored to death tomorrow while the wife and I work and it's my fault. She is going to get in a car accident on the way to work. I have a fucking migraine. My leg hardware hurts. Pain in the incision. Screws must be out of place. Metal plate must have bent when I slipped. Now going to have to go back for more surgery. All this nonsense in my head. None of it real and that freaks me out even more. I GIVE UP! 2 narcotic painkillers for the leg, 2 pain killers to prevent stomach pain from the narcotics, and 2 xanax for the freaking out. Not a great mix at 2:am and now, 1:30 pm, I am in a serious fog. And who the fuck switched the keys on the keyboard? Or maybe I just can't quite feel my fingers.

Relax Dude!

So if you pull up behind me in the straight or right turn lane,next to the left turn only lane, and the right turn arrow turns green but I do not move, maybe you should check to see if I have my right turn blinker on before you honk your horn and start shaking your fist at me.
It was not like I was going to go straight and there was not a green light to go straight.
You know I was just sitting there to annoy you.
Did that 10 seconds you had to wait for me to go straight once the main light turned green cost you your job?
Were you late for an important meeting?
Did you really have to go to the bathroom?
Leave a minute earlier just incase you run into someone like me who actually pays attention when they are driving. Lay off the coffee and chill a bit.

Mind Over...Me

No pain medication for almost a week now, doing great, then out of the blue last night I hurt like crazy. I swear I could feel all 8 screws in my leg. Felt like the incisions on both side of my leg were splitting apart. My knee hurt from holding my foot off the floor all day. My shoulders hurt from hobbling on crutches all day. My ass hurt from sitting on it 10 times more than I usually do. To put it clearly, I hurt.
And then my wife and youngest son go to Bay City to pick up my art display stands from my oldest son who is moving to Wyoming. So I am sitting there, hurting all over, home alone, and it really set in that my son is actually moving and taking my grandsons half way across the country. So now the panic sets in. My throat begins to get dry. Shortly thereafter the opening in my throat seems to be closing. I can not sit still but it is a pain in the ass to stand. My mind floods with images of all the things that could go wrong preventing me from seeing my son or grandsons again. Shortness of breath followed by sweating. And not just average, everyday, man is it hot out here sweating. No, I am talking about, my t-shirt soaked and sweat running down my forehead and dripping off my eyebrows. I try, but my mind will not let me think of all the good that might come out of the kids moving.
Face it, if your mind wants control, it will take it, and it sucks.
I really do not care for prescription medication, or medication of any sort for that matter, but I was really left with no choice.
Now many of you may say, what a wuss, but trust me, if you were 45, a bit overweight, had broken bones for the first time in your life being held together by things that look like they came from corner hardware store, and add a serious panic attack, you might just give in also.
Faygo Rock and Rye on ice, 2 hydrocodone for the pain, and 2 xanax slipped under the tongue for the anxiety. (under the tongue with the xanax works fast, 5 - 10 minutes and no worries)
Relaxed enough to finish a painting, and fall asleep by about 10pm. I don't think I moved and inch once I fell asleep.
Today I am a bit cloudy but I can see clearly, unmedicated enough, to understand that it was just a bad couple hours and everything is going to be ok.
Or is it?
I wish I could convince myself that all is going to be good, but I know deep down inside that it is only a matter of time when I lay my head on my pillow to go to sleep and in less than a minute I will spring up, crazy thoughts of panic running through my mind, and not just thoughts of missing the kids.
How about thoughts of losing my wife and being alone?
What about me getting some terminal illness and leaving my family without a husband, father, and grandfather?
Or the next time my youngest goes to a friends and thinking that he is going to get hurt somehow?
Oh, and then there is my son who is a Marine. Yeah, like I am going to handle him going off to Afganhistan (spelling?) in a few months.
Then top that off with the fact that it really freaks me out thinking that I might have to take this anxiety/panic medication the rest of my life.
WTF is that all about?

I Think My Wife Actually Likes Me?

If you are not up to date with my latest trauma, then let me fill you in, if you are please stand by.
About 3 weeks ago I broke both bones in my lower right leg and had to have surgery to put install a plate and several screws to hold the bones together. Blah, Blah, spare the rest of the details.
The first week after the injury I was pretty much out of touch with reality due to major pain, and anxiety meds. Yet I somehow managed not to mess myself or further injure my leg. I was also able to maintain enough nutrition in my body to keep me from shrivelling up and dehydrating.
Week 2 I was back on our planet and realizing what a pain in the ass this is.
Now week 3 and I am fully aware of the fact that my wonderful wife is the soul reason that I am clean and healthy, even though I am "broken".
That first week she must have waited on me hand foot. I can only imagine the extra burden on her. Making sure I had my medication, my meals, plenty of water, clean clothes, and her shoulder to lean on when I was freaking out from anxiety.
Week 2 and 3 have been just as bad for her because she is back to work full time and still brings me my meals, sets out clean clothes for me for work, and has managed to keep her chin up and have a great attitude through it all.
How does a guy deserve such a terrific person in his life. 28 years with her has truly been a blessing.

Our Tax Dollars Hard at Work

So I hobble into the Post Office on my crutches this morning. A big purple cast covers my lower right leg. I have a hell of a time opening the door and making my way up to the counter.
Clearly exhausted, I set a newspaper up on the counter and inform the postal clerk that I would like to mail this to the address I showed her. She looks at me, somewhat dumbfounded, and says, so what do you want me to do with it?
I wanted to reply , shove up your .... you crabby b, , but instead I just ask her if she can tell me how much it will be to mail it.
Once again in a "man you are really bothering me" tone she says, "You have to put in one of those envelopes and weigh it" as she points to the back of the room at a rack full of various envelopes.
It amazed me that she either did not see my crutches leaning up against the counter and the purple cast or she really did not give a darn. So I grab my crutches and slowly make my way to the rack of envelopes. There are 3 different envelopes that would fit but they were slightly different from each other and I was not sure if they had specific uses. Now, almost afraid to ask, I look over my shoulder and inquire as to which one, if any, would be the correct envelope.
"The one on the right I said!!" was her irritated reply.
I was obviously disrupting her morning of standing there and staring out the window at nothing. No other customers, just traffic going by, the place was empty.
I pick the envelope on the right and return to the counter and this "lovely" postal clerk. Setting the envelope and the newspaper I wanted to send on the counter I ask her if she can now tell me how much it will be to send.
$1.39 plus 99 cents for the envelope.
"Thank you" I reply, trying to ignore how poorly I was being treated.
I begin filling out the envelope and was immediately halted by my "friendly" neighborhood postal clerk.
"You can go fill that out over at the counter by the envelopes, there is a pen there for you" she says, no longer making any attempt to refrain from being a bitch.
My jaw about hit the floor. She actually made me pick up the envelope, the newspaper, and my crutches and hobble back across the room to fill out 4 lines of an address on an envelope, just in case someone else came in and needed service. Lord knows that 20 seconds it took me to fill out the address could have been the end of the U.S. Postal Service had another customer come in.
I fill out the envelope then take it back to the counter and pay to send it out. Now she is miss wonderful, obviously glad to see me leave.
"Have a good day" she says, as I try to shimmy my way out the door with my crutches.

Get Screwed!

Here's to all the people in my life that ever told me to get screwed.
7 screws and a plate in one bone in my leg, and one long screw in the other bone in the same leg. Yeah but I am sporting a cool new purple cast. I think I will do it up with some original artwork over the next 4 weeks.

Lost Grandpa

How do you deal with knowing that your son is moving half way across the country and taking your two grandsons far away. We do not make enough financially to be able to visit them more than once a year, at best. I know it might be what is best for them financially, but dang, what am I going to do without seeing those little guys? Any help or comments would be greatly appreciated.

Not again

Maybe it is just me, but wouldn't you think that once you have worn the picture off,cracked and chipped, and can no longer read the magnetic strip on your food stamp card that it might be time to look for a job and stop living off the rest of us. I know some people really need the assistance from time to time but come on. Yeah, I know you have probably already heard something of the sort from me before but it really burns me up, blah blah blah, and on I rant.

I wonder if...

a guy can brake his leg, while walking on grass, while "watching" a canoe race, without being drunk. YES!

a guy can be so bored at home, because he broke his leg "watching" a canoe race, that he would drive his pickup truck to town with a cast over the two broke bones in his leg. YES!

a guy can get at ticket for driving his pickup truck to town while his right leg is propped up on the seat to keep his broke leg elevated while he operates the brake and excellerator with my,oops, his left foot. NOT YET!

WTF?

It's 90+ f'in degrees out, no breeze, no ac at home, broke leg, live by lake can't go swimming because of broke leg, can't go to work just for the ac because of broke leg, leg does not hurt enough now to justify taking meds, no anxiety to justify taking other meds, maybe if I keep thinking about all this bs I will have an anxiety attack and trip on the way to get my anxiety meds and hurt my leg again,,then would it be all better?
Nope, I guess not, just go home and don't worry about the heat exhaustion and become a human baked potato. Love the crutches and the fact that it might only be 80 degrees tomorrow.
Who is putting this bs in my head? Wheres the meds?

My Medicated Vacation

Can you really loose a day in your life? How about a week? Sure you can, just snap both bones in your lower right leg, have surgery to put them back together with screws, then take two kinds of pain killers (one for the pain of the surgery and broken bones and one for the stomach pain caused by the pain killers), throw in some aspirin to prevent blood clotting and then top it off with an injection of adavan(spelling?) chased by four tabs of xanex and then eat 2 - 6 more of those a day to get over the anxiety of being laid up for 6 - 8 weeks. Yep a one week medicated vacation that I did not even realize I went on. Dang that sucks.

Lost a Week, Here's Why

As I sit typing, I think to myself, “How can it be Saturday?”
“Where did Sunday through Friday go?”
The excitement of being a spectator at the 63rd annual Ausable River Canoe Marathon was simply overwhelming this year.
As summer progressses in the small town of Grayling Michigan, thoughts become focused on the Ausable River Canoe Marathon. Held each year on the last full weekend of July, it is the longest nonstop canoe race in North America and is said to be one of, if not the toughest spectator sport in the world.
Now please do not take this as me “stealing the thunder” from the canoe racer, as that is the last thing I intend to do. The men and women who paddle this exrtraordinary race are themselves extraordinary athletes. To run full speed for 4 blocks carrying a canoe on your shoulder, hoping to keep in sync with your partner who is carrying the other end, all the while trying to avoid crashing into one of the other almost 200 racers who have the same goal in mind, get to the river. Not necessarily get to the river first, just get to the river.
The canoe racers must jump in their canoes in the river and paddle 120 miles to the finish in Oscoda, Michigan,stopping at least 6 times to get out, pick up their canoe, and carry it up and over a dam, just to continue on the other side. No breaks for feeding or resting, that is all done in mid stream. The fastest of the canoe racing teams will arrive at their destination in Oscoda, about 14 hours after they started in Grayling. Oh, and keep in mind that this all begins at 9:00pm so the majority of the race takes place in the dark of night.
These paddlers are tough. I could not do it. Right now, this very day, or just about any other day in my life I could not do it, but the Ausable River Canoe Marathon is also known as one of , if not the toughest spectator sports in the world,and though I can not say I am , or have ever been a contestant but I can say that I have been a spectator.
I have personally attended nearly 30 of these races, and am proud to say I am a serious spectator. In fact on many ocassions I have followed the entire marathon from start to finish, an event which I hoped to accomplish this year.
I began my spectatorship in ritualistic style, arriveing in Grayling about 5:30 pm, a couple cruises through town, park a couple blocks from downtown and make the walk through the street vendors and all the arts and crafts tents. The local bars, restaurants, and retailers were brimming with business. Always the same ole thing but always exciting to be among the crowd which had reached about 2000 spectators, so many in fact that one of the 3 lanes through town was closed to allow for better passage for spectators.
Amongst the crowd of thousands I managed to run into one of my oldest friends, Mike Petrie. Mike and I graduated from Graying High School in the mid 1980s along with many others who no longer live in Grayling but still make the annual pilgramage to be a spectator in the Ausable River Canoe Marathon. A short visit then back across town to park on Madsen St.,heading East. ( Trust me, some seriuos spectatin experience here)
I make my way to a 4 city block area where the racing canoes and their paddlers are lined up and anxiuosly awaiting the start of the race. Spectators from all over are meeting the paddlers, talking to feeders, getting photos with paddlers and canoes. I met my friend Tim Sheldon who was a Grayling High classmate of mine but was also paddling the marathon. We shared a little chit chat, I wished him luck and then made my way to my favorite little viewing spot behind the back corner of the old city police post.
By 7:00 pm the grassy bank in front of the Old Ausable Fly Shop and Canoe Livery (Rays as many old timers might know it)is shoulder to shoulder with spectators from around the United States and several other countries. 5 city blocks are lined 8 and 10 spectators deep. The “back bridge” is full of cheering fans.
As the clock ticks closer to the marathons’ 9:00 pm starting, there becomes a steady humm of excitement. A stirring buzz of adrenaline that can be heard from 10 blocks away. The emcee builds the crowd into a roaring wave just as the starting gun goes off signifying the beginning of the 63 annual Ausable River Canoe Marathon.
Marathon spectators have several options when it comes to following the race. The easiest, and most often chosen option is to watch the start and then just go home. Maybe catch the updates throughout the night on the radio and watch the news to see who wins the next day. Almost not a
true spectator by the “diehards”, but hey, you showed up, I bet you even cheered and had your own little rush of adrenalin as the canoes and their paddlers raced by. You are just as much a spectator as those who follow the race beyond the start.
Next are the spectators who will not only be at the start of the race, they will be loud, they will holler, they will cheer and whistle. They are glad to give the big beach ball a whack as it bounces its’ way amongst outstretched hands. These spectators will generally wait until the very last canoe team has entered the water,then they will scurry for their vehicles and rush to one of the first viewing bridges, Stephan or Wakeley bridge. They will hang out for an hour, maybe two, hoot and hollar a bit as the first 10 or so teams go by, and then they will call it a night. You folks are alright! You really get the crowd rallied and prepared for a long night.
Then there are the “GOING ALL THE WAY!!!,,,To Mio” group. You know who you are, and there are a lot of you. You are a serious spectator. We hear you as the crowd starts to get big around 1:00 in the morning. Hundreds of spectators are gathering on the sloped, downstream side of Mio Dam. Hundreds more are at the top of the dam, watching with wary eyes for the faint glint of a canoe headlight. The spectators eyes have strained through hours of vehicle headlights when driving, and near total darkness while waiting to view the racers as they ease by in the night. We here ya holler..” GOING ALL THE WAY”,,,, then mumble “to Mio” . You have already been on the go for at least 5 hours. Probably in and out of the vehicle at least 3 or 4 times. Walking the ½+ mile, to and from each viewing bridge. Refueling your body and mind while traveling from one viewing area to another. Hey, you did great. Mio is a tough place to make it through.
And on we go
Through the darkness of night.
There was just enough traffic to help me keep myeyes open as I traveled from McKinley to 4001 Bridge, where at around 5:00am I watched Tim and Ted paddle swiftly by. I warily made my way back to my vehicle and drove to one of the 5 dams that remained to be crossed, surviving only on protein bars, and coke, and cheese and crackers, oh yeah and some chips, and a couple waters, jerky, blah, blah..
RUSH!!!
Off to Alcona, the first of 5 consecutive dams at which a spectator can view the racers. One of the first places along the route of the marathon that spectators will see padders at sunrise.
My eyes blessed the morning sun. Happy to not have to strain to see a distant paddler or a fellow spectator who may have wondered off path. The rays of the sun recharge my entire body. I was alive and loving it at Alcona Dam in Northern Michigan at about 6:00 in the morning. Warm coffee and doughnut tent. Hundreds of spectators greeting the morning chill. The outline of a canoe swiftly making its’ way across the still of the pond. I took a few pictures as Tim and Ted went by,then off to Loud Dam. Only a few hours left and I will have completed, by myself, one of the toughtest spectator sports in the world.
I believe I arrived at Loud Dam around 7:00 am. I approached the dam from the bottom, having walked about 500 yards from my truck. While standing at the bottom of the dam I recognized at least 50 people that I had seen at every stop along the way, and now, 11 hours from the start of the race, I wondered what their nights had been like. I stood in awe and embraced the fresh morning air before making my way up to the high side of the dam. I would be able to watch as the paddlers make their way through the morning calm of the pond at Loud Dam.
Loud Dam was much like all the other stops after Mio. Quiet, subdued, casual conversation, maybe even a little cat nap with a brief round of cheers and encouragement as each canoe team approaced and made their way over the dam. I silently observed the crowd and looked for a good viewing point. It would be several minutes before the first racers would arrive so I decided to make my way across the path and onto the other side of the racers crossing area. With the downstep of my right foot on the edge of the path, where gravel meets grass, my foot slipped just a bit and my body went instantly to the ground with a croud shivering, gut wrenching snap. I think about 50 people in the crowd moaned in unison.
And now to be honest with you, the past 4+ days since Loud Dam have basically been a blur. I do recall a few datails.
I know several wonderful people asked me if I was ok. I know I stayed over an hour to see Tim and Ted come through then walked 500+yards to my truck and drove 80+ miles home. I also know that I have an xray sitting next to me of the bones in my lower right leg, just above the ankle.
I know I just realized that it is Saturday, and, apparently, the extreme pain in my leg is from the surgery I had Tuesday. Surgery that was necessary to put a few screws and other hardware in my right leg to fix both the bones that snapped at Loud Dam.
To all the spectators who made it all the way, GREAT JOB!
To all the racers who have ever competed in the Ausable River Canoe Marathon I say thank you. It is the extraordinary athlete in you that allows thousands of us to call ourselves the toughest spectators in the world.
See you next year!

A Letter From Grandpa

Right now there are just the two of you, Gavin and Halen my wonderful grandsons, but I am sure in the future there are more to come. Neither of you can read just yet, in fact Halen you are still trying to figure out how to hold up your head. After not seeing either of you for almost a month I wondered if Gavin would remember me, but when I walked through that door it was plain to see. With one hand, Gavin, you covered your eyes but you walked right to me, were you just playing shy? When I picked you up and saw that smile across your face, my heart was instantly in a wonderful place. And Halen I could see a smile in your eyes, even though it was hidden by your restless cries. This is not just for you but for all my grandkids. For all the good, and the bad, and the silly things you did.
I remember my grandmas and grandpas and all the love that they shared, and no matter how rotten I was, they always cared. Grandpa Krajenka was always ready to offer plenty of candy, what a kid wants the most, and Grandma Krajenka never failed with the hot tea and toast. Grandpa Swatz was a mountain of a man to me. He taught me to hunt and to fish, and avoid his grip on my knee. Grandma Swatz was always full of love and never sent us away, but she would not answer the door until she hid that secret ashtray.
I know there were times that my grandparents were mad at me, but I only remember them being happy.
To Gavin and Halen and those who are not here yet, I’m going to be a good grandpa, on that you can bet. I will spoil you, and treat you all well. If I sneak you a snack you must never tell. I will show you my world and and my look on life, and oh yeah, don’t forget grandma, my wonderful wife. She’s going to love you and hug you and to her, you will never be bad, and when you get a scrape on your knee, I guarantee you, she will be sad.
I’m sure that at some point with you all , I’ll be mad, this is true, but I pray you only remember the good when my life is through.
Love Grandpa

Canoe Marathon, What A Rush

If you do not live in Grayling, Michigan, or have just never attended the Ausable River Canoe Marathon, then you probably will not understand the rush and excitement that comes over those of us who have been there. I think I can speak for the majority of us who have been there, whether it has been just once or 20+ times like myself and many others, the excitement is real.
The Ausable River Canoe Marathon is the longest, non-stop, canoe race in North America and is considered one of, if not the toughest spectator sport in the world. If you wish to be a spectator, and plan on watching the entire race, you had better prepare for approximately 20 hours of spectating. Yes, that's right, 20 hours, just for the prerace festivities and the race itself. The actual race will last about 14 hours for the fastest team and 18 hours for the last teams, and keep in mind that this is non-stop. No they do not paddle the entire time, but that is only because at 6 locations throughout the night the racers must get out of their canoes and carry them up and over a dam, then down the other side and back into the river.
These racers are not your everyday, average canoer. These paddlers are amazing. They are well trained, physically fit athletes. Many of these men and women canoe year round and participate in canoe races around the country and often in other countries. They must be mentally tough as well for it is not everyday that a person jumps into a canoe, after running with it 4 city blocks, then heads out for what is sure to be at least 14 hours of rigorous paddling. Paddling that begins in the small Northern Michigan town of Grayling.
Grayling is a town with a city population of approximately 2000 as of the year 2000.
As the last full weekend of July approaches each year, the cities population begins to grow. By midweek, prior to the weekend of the race, Graylings population has at least doubled, with spectators and racers coming from all around the country and several other countries. Time trials draw hundreds of spectators on Thursday, to see just where their favorite team will place for starting position. Other spectators will drop by the time trials just because they have never seen them before, they probably do not have a favorite team, they have just become wrapped up in the excitement of it all.
As Thursday and Friday pass, the excitement in Grayling begins to soar. It is Saturday, race day, and town is bustling. The city park is packed with arts and crafts vendors from around the state. The 150 yard long, crescent shaped, grassy hill in front of The Old Ausable Canoe Livery, or Rays as many of us long time locals remember it, has viewing spots being claimed as early as 9:00am with spectators placing blankets and chairs in their favorites spot to watch the start of the race 12 hours later. Around
6:00pm a huge croud has gathered on, and around the grassy hill in front of the canoe livery. Spectators are wandering the several city blocks surrounding the starting area of the marathon. People from all over are visiting with and taking pictures of the canoes and their teams as they begin to line up in their starting positions. The buzz of the crouds enthusiasm can be heard from several blocks away as the local emcee works the croud.
Asking the croud who is from certain colleges like Michigan State and U of M is always good for a roar. The macarena or ymca song and dance performed by hundreds, possibly even a couple thousand people can put a smile on the "Grinches" face in July. Race team introductions is a thrill for all, as each two man team makes their way down the boardwalk, along the river in front of the canoe livery, and greets the cheering croud. After the introduction of the teams they make their way back to their canoes and prepare for what will be a very demanding journey.
All of a sudden their is a huge canon blast signalling the start of the Ausable River Canoe Marathon, and the croud erupts with cheers, clapping, screaming, whistling, and any other type of encouraging noise you can imagine. My hair actually tingles every year when that croud starts to rumble and gets louder as the canoers are first seen making their entrance around the corner of the canoe livery, carrying their canoes at a full run and jumping into the river to begin what is sure to be one of the toughest nights of their lives.
Yes, I said toughest "nights" of their lives. The racers begin paddling at the canoe livery but I guess I should not say the race begins at the canoe livery. It actually begins about 4 blocks from the river. The canoes and their paddlers are lined up throughout a few of the cities streets, according to their positioning in Thursdays time trials, waiting to hear the 9:00 pm canon blast that signifies the start of the race. The 2 man paddling teams run with their canoes, trying not to trip over one of the other 200 paddlers, hoping to make safely into the river and out of the congestion of 100 canoes without capsizing or breaking something. Once they clear that first 100 yards of river the congestion eases up a bit and each team can start to get into a rhythm, preparing for the 120 mile, 14+ hour, all night journey that lies ahead. And for the spectators, well many will call it a night, but the diehards, like myself at one point in time, will follow the racers throughout the night.
As a spectator of over 30 Ausable River Canoe Marathons, I can honestly say it is one of the toughest spectator sports in the world. I have followed it all night on several ocassions and I know first hand that when you have followed these canoe racers all night Saturday and into the early afternoon Sunday, scurrying from stop to stop, portage to portage, hollering and cheering at each location, you are dead tired at the end of it all. The night is filled with highs and lows. Between stops, fighting sleep and driving tension just to make it to the next stop. Catching a few minutes of sleep at a portage before the racers approach. Then the adrenaline comes rushing through your body again as canoes are spotted approaching a bridge or dam. A distant light on the water with that tell tale swagger to the beat of the paddlers cadence is spotted and the croud begins to cheer. Have you ever seen a couple thousand people, standing on the side of a river and dam, at 3:00 in the morning, just to watch as two guys in a canoe approach, get out of their canoe and carry over the dam just to get back in the river and paddle away, being chased to the next spot.
If you have not, then I must recommend that you go to the Ausable River Canoe Marathon and follow it at least to the Mio Dam. No that is not the end, but it will give you a pretty good idea of what it is like to be one of the toughest spectators in the world. I can honestly say there was a time when I was one of those tough spectators.
Good luck to all the paddlers have a safe journey.

Should Be Packing, I'm Going Fishing

That kayak of mine has not been in the water in a month and I think it is about time to do something about it. Tomorrow is supposed to be a wonderful day as far as the weather is concerned. Low 80s, mostly cloudy, very low wind, a perfect day for fishing, and I think my kayak has been very lonely just sitting there, upside down, in my lawn for the past month. I is just not right to keep something from the water for so long that was meant to be in the water. I almost feel bad for my kayak. Sure, I know we are moving into a new home in a couple weeks and I should really spend tomorrow packing some things, but why would I prepare ahead this time. It seems like every other time we moved we waited until the last minute to actually get things packed and cleaned so why change that now. I'm sure if my kayak could read it would be so happy.

Butthead!

So I am driving to work today, loving the peace and serenity of the 15 miles of farmland and the 30 miles of forest which line the road to work. The 2 hen wild turkeys and their batch of 6 young were right where I see them almost every day. A big 8 point buck was once again waiting to cross the road at what must be his favorite crosswalk. I have now seen this magnificent buck 4 times in the last month. 2 Turkey buzzards spring to the air and lite in a nearby jackpine tree as I spooked them off the porcupine carcass they were dining on. The green of the forest is a welcome sight every morning, full of life and inspiration.
And then the window on the drivers side of the car in front of me reveals a hand sticking out. Suddenly, as if with no concern at all, a stinking white, still smoking, cigarette butt is flicked from the fingers of the driver and onto the pavement. Not more than 1/2 mile down the road another cigarette butt is thrown out of the passengers window. No regard for possible fires. What about the young wildlife that does not know any better and chooses to try that carcenogenic little morsel for breakfast. What about the fact that the tar filled, paper wrapped, fiber packed death capsule will lay along side the road for years so that we can all enjoy it. I do not care if people smoke, but I know for a fact that cars have ashtrays in them. If your cigarette butts are to nasty to put in your car ashtray, what makes you think we want them thrown whereever you feel like dropping them when you are done.
Here is a great idea. How about if I come by and throw my trash in your yard?

My Family, My Words, My Art, My Beautiful Life

My family is precious. A loving wife, who was my high school sweet heart and the only true love of my life. 28 years with her has been the most wonderful 28 years of my life. Sure a few rough patches, but that only makes us stronger.

Three sons that are the joy of my life. Each with his own set of characteristics, keeping them individual, yet with the common string of dna, proper morals and loving parents that ties them so close to each other.

A trouble maker at one point, and still bullheaded

as ever, but now a wonderful young man, my oldest is also the father to my two beautiful grandsons.

A military man, guitar player,

fisherman and hunter, and beach goer,

my middle son is as proud of himself

as I am of him.

Sure he is a bit cocky, but he will go far.

A middle school honor student, avid outdoorsman, true friend to his buddies and the best uncle in the world, my youngest son has suddenly shown the true spirit and attitude of a 13 year old. He means goods but just can not help being a bit on the cantankerous side at the moment. Wanting to push me just as far as possible, yet not enough to actually get in trouble. I think he is to smart for his own good but will use that to take him to the stars.

Sure sometimes life is a train wreck. It seems as if all the bad in life meet at a central point in time and collide. But as with all catastrophes, the bad times in life are short term.

There is always a brighter side.

A blue sky filled with wonder.

A daisy filled field holding all the wonders of nature. A true uplift to the spirit.

Come On Frank, It's Just A Sausage Biscuit!

Now please do not mistake me for someone who lives on and craves fast food, but as I sit here typing ,my tastebuds are still reeling from that buttery salty flavor of a wonderfully flakey biscuit. A slightly dry yet sinfully yummy patty of fat filled sausage.
Was I extra hungry this morning?
I don't think so.
Was it something I eat everyday so I had to have it?
Definitely not.
Am I a lover of fast food?
Absolutely not. In fact I usually think it is quite gross and often feel terrible, both physically and mentally, after eating it.
Yeah, I know that gut ache will be coming on shortly, but for now it's all good.

The Brighter Side of a Rainy Day

Saturday, May 8th, was a great day for a few fisherman from around Michigan. Several members from Crappie.com were getting together for an outing on Wixom Lake in Gladwin county. The wind howled up to 40 mph. The temperature hovered around the 40 degree mark and a cold, misty rain came down most of the weekend, but our spirits were not dampened.
Yankeedoodler (Don) and his wife arrived at the campground Friday evening giving us some time to chit chat and share some good old conversation. Surprisingly, not all the conversation was about fishing. The wind continued to gust and t a hard mist fell through the night. What would Saturday have in store for us as far as the weather was concerned? Well, we were really not concerned.
Saturday morning I returned to the campground and met Ready2fish (Jim) and Skillett007 (Kevin) where they had set up camp next to Don and his wife Carol. A few hours of swapping tales and fishing info helped pass the time, while Don moved his trailer (a whole new story in itself) and I prepared the loin for lunch. Man did we eat good. Everyone had some wonderful food to share and I do believe no one went hungry. That little slice of chocolate heaven was amazing, thanks Carol.
As the winds swayed the tall hardwoods, the slight drizzle that had been coming down a good part of the morning eased up just as we were preparing to hit the water for some fishing. Don, Jim, and Kevin each motored their boats down river toward the first bay that might hold some crappies as I drove to the public access and put my kayak in for a 1/2 mile paddle up the lake to meet the others. Paddling into a 25 - 40 mph head wind is not the easiest chore, but our timing was perfect, for as I approached the bay from the South, yankeedoodler, skillett007, and ready2fish were coming in from the North.
Ready2fish landed a couple little crappies fairly quickly. Skillett007 was not having much luck and yankeedoodler was not doing much better. I managed to catch 17 small crappies off one submerged tree and another dozen or so in a canal, but for the most part fishing was slow for everyone. After about 4 hours of fishing we all met back at the camp. It turned out that everyone did catch at least one crappie. I kept a couple for fish sandwiches and the rest were released by everyone.
The evening brought on several more hours of pleasant conversation, a few refreshments and more great food. It all seemed to end to soon and a great time was had by everyone. The weather could not have been worse in the eyes of many people, but to us it was just another great reason why we live in Michigan.

Alive and Loving It

It has been quite sometime since I pulled an almost all nighter working. I sat down at my drawing table yesterday afternoon and started another drawing. I am currently designing the cover and 12 months of a calendar for a website so I began another of the months. By late evening I had it complete and was, for some strange reason, very pleased with the results. Watching a movie, or two, with my wonderful wife, I had the itch to draw more when she finally went to bed sometime around 11pm. I sat back at the drawing table and completed an entire drawing by 1:30am. This particular drawing was not for the calendar, just something for practice and to use as a demo/show piece. This is just a simple portrait of one of my favorite actresses. Not a lot of detail but a bit of a challenge none the less.

Awake at 5:am to drop off my wife at work and head to my own job. Now I know I did get about 3 hours of sleep by the time I actually fell asleep, but believe me it is not quite as easy these days. Being a 45 year old is not as simple as it might sound. Sure living in general is easy, but to push the limits is a bit tougher. Though every time I do push myself, whether it be physically and/or mentally, (lack of sleep would fall into both of those for me), I feel totally recharged when it is over.

All the termoil of last week is gone. I intentionally thought about some of the garbage that had gone on last week and did not even get upset, in fact I sort of chuckled about it. Looking at the fact that it is going to be a really long day after such a night seems to have only picked me up even more. Knowing that my lovely wife and 13 year old son will be at home to greet me this evening is such a wonderful feeling. I am alive and loving it.

A Vicious Spiral

For months my world is calm, floating peacefully in a glass like sea. All is well, kids are great, new grandbaby, fishing has been outstanding. My artwork is starting to spread around the country and my writings are being asked for. My wife is a wonderful woman from whom I could ask for no more. Suddenly in the middle of that sparkling calm sea comes a wind shear.
Like a great Noreaster, the world around me starts to waver. The calmness is fading. My steady float has been disrupted by a severe cross wind. Turbulence has been created under my little raft of life. Crashing in from all sides, ideas and opinions are like the monstrous seas in the middle of a typhoon. Just as I break the top of one curling white cap and think I see calm water, another unseen wave of disruption comes crashing down . But my little raft, built with love and perseverance, heart and a strong will, holds steady as my life begins to spin.
Slowly at first, then like the rush of a washing machine on full spin cycle. Who's wrong? Who's right? A plea for calm and understanding. An attack on the soul. From every direction at once. I begin spiral helplessly. Into the vortex my life is engulfed.
As I look around at the trials of life spinning viciuosly by, I see a glimpse of hope. My wife is there, by my side. She is supporting me even if, for some reason, I can not quite see it. My youngest son, just 13 but wise for his age, allows me to rant and then speaks calmly of things that he most know will relieve my termoil. What I thought was an endless spin into a life of regret and lonliness is fading. The seas are subsiding.
Allowing me to speak. Letting me ramble on about things that are really not important or relevant to what is really happenning, my family is the light at the bottom of the vicious spiral.
I ease my way slowly back into the calmness for which I am so fond. My life will get back to normal, and it will not take long. The spinning has ended and the seas are only slightly choppy. By the end of the day I will once again see my relection on the mirror surface of the sea of life.

Just My Opinion

For some reason, there are those around all of us, who think their ideas and opinions are more valuable and should be heard over those of others. I know I am not always right. I understand my opinions might ocassionally offend someone, but that is never my intention. If I am wrong, I admit it. If my wrong doings have hurt or offended someone I try to apologize or make it right as soon as possible, and take responsibility for my actions. Many others refuse to do so. To tell me, publicly, that my opinions are stupid and that I should keep them to myself is about as hypocritical as one can get. To voice an opinion telling someone else to not voice their opinion is, in my eyes, wrong.
It seems to me that a person giving their opinion that someone else should not give their opinion is putting themselves at a higher level than the one they are criticizing. If you think you are so much better then someone that your opinion should be heard whereas theirs should not, there is definitely some confusion going on somewhere.
I am a good person, and I know that in my heart. I do not wish bad for anyone, even those I do not care for. I do my best to get along with everyone, even when I would rather not be in the company of some of them. To attack me because I voiced concern for a member of my family is wrong and hurtful.
I made an assumption and was wrong. I admitted it in public as soon as I possibly could and took responsibility, but I was attacked. If those that treated me wrongly choose to believe they are right and did no wrong,well, so be it.
I do not understand why it is so hard for so many people to face the fact and admit to themselves and others that they were wrong. I believe that seeing faults in yourself and taking responsibility for those shortcomings only makes us a stronger and better individual as life progresses. Should we no longer pass on to our children to do to others as you wish them to do to you. Should we teach our children and grandchildren that the opinions of others should not be heard. An opinion is just an opinion. Noone has to agree with it. All the same, no one should attack a person because they disagree with the others opinion.
I openly welcome criticism, good or bad, but to tell me that my opinion should not be heard can only be taken to mean that they are not as important as others.
I am just as good, and important, of a person as anyone else and deserve the respect that the others around me are given. If anyone feels that I do not deserve that respect then they should probably not take an interest in my life or what I have to say. If you are one of those people and feel compelled to continue to criticise me destructively whenever I make a mistake, well there is nothing I can do about that. I wish you well.

Maybe I Am A Redneck After All

Yesterday was a day I will most likely never forget, and it really opened my eyes to a few things I had never seriously looked at before.
As I shook hands with a man from southern Michigan, who I had just met and was taking fishing in a kayak for his first time, we stood in the rain looking down the gravel walk to the pool below the dam where we would begin our day. It was a steady rain, but warm so it was not uncomfortable just wet. We hauled or supplies for the day down the 150 yard walk and to the rivers edge where we loaded it into the kayak and I gave a brief instructional on what not to do in the kayak if we wanted to stay upright.
2 men, 4 fishing rods and reels, my 2 tackle boxes, his back pack tackle carrier, a cooler full of food and drinks, and a camera case, I never really paid that much attention to how much stuff would actually fit safely in my kayak.
The river was down quite low so I stepped into the 4 inch deep water and pulled the kayak full of gear a hundred feet or so down stream to where the water was deep enough for my new fishing partner and I to both get in without scraping the bottom off my kayak. We only floated about 200 yards before I had to step out again adnd drag us through another shallow area. Standing in shin deep water in my tennis shoes and jeans while the rain now poured on us, I realized it never really bothered me to be fully clothed trompsing around in the muck and silt of the local lakes and rivers, all the while being in the midst of a torential down pour.
A couple hours down river, and a dozen or so fish caught and released or put on the stringer, we decided it was time for a break. I pulled the kayak to a weedy, yet stable, section of the shoreline where we both got out and enjoy some lunch during a temporary break in the rain. As we stood there eating our sandwiches, gazing at the beauty that surrounded us it dawned on me. I was eating my sandwich with my bare hands that were definitely a bit smelly and covered with fish slime, and I really did not care.
Another couple hours down river we pulled into the local campground where a couple of my fishing buddies from Ohio were camping. We unloaded the kayak and dumped out the 100 pounds or so of water that was laying in the bottom and met my friends as they were just pulling in off the lake from a morning of fishing. We were due for a break and had 7 nice smallmouth bass on the stringer that I really wanted to fillet and get in the cooler. My friends from Ohio invited us to their campsites where they were kind enough to let me use their filet knife and a couple of baggies to put the fillets in. A I stood their filleting the fish the sky began to rumble with distant thunder. In no time that distant thunder was on top of us and the sky erupted with a bolt of lightning and a load crack. One of my buddies asked if I wanted some rain gear and I just said " No thanks, I will be done shortly." as I stood there with fillet knife and fish carcas in hand as the water streamed off my the bill of my cap.
Back on the water we made our we further down river to the main lake where we were going to fish for crappies. Along the way we had to stop and unload so we could drain out water once again for what had been just a steady rain most of the day became a monsoon like storm between the campground and the lake. Our gear was practically floating in the kayak and I joked about having a live well.
The rain subsided a bit as we made it to the lake. We managed to catch a few fish and jokingly curse when the it decided to pour on us again. After putting a few nice crappies on the stringer, we decided it was probably time to start heading to the landing and calling it a day. Just before we started paddling to the landing I said to my new fishing buddy, " It sure would be nice if the clouds went away and the sun came out just long enough for us to get to the landing and load up our stuff." Believe it or not, this is the honest truth, it was not 2 minutes later when the clouds started to seperate and were replaced by a bright blue sky with the sun shining high.
My wife and son were at the access site where we had spotted my partners truck. I did not want him to go home with whole fish so I looked for a place where I could fillet the crappies we had on the stringer. The park bench would do as it was sure to rain again shortly and wash off any scales or other fish debris that might be left from my filleting. As I knelt down at the bench I just chuckled to myself thinking, who would carry a fillet knife in the glove box of their pick up truck. I gave my fellow fisherman the bags of fillets and wished him a safe trip home and invited him up anytime.
As my son, my wife and I pulled back into our driveway I just had to look around and smile. Yes we live in a trailer. It is not a real nice trailer but we keep it clean, sometimes cluttered, but clean. The lawn is not always mowed, but enough. There are deer antlers nailed to our porch and on our living room wall, where there is also a mounted duck, a pheasant, a crappie, the tails of a pheasant and a partridge, a chipmunk skin, and on my youngest sons wall is the skin of the 1st raccoon we ever trapped together.
It really hit me right there and I had to admit to myself, "Maybe I am a redneck after all."

The Fog Has Lifted

These days I see life through a fine crystal, clear and sharp, no foggy haze of my youth to cloud my judgements and perceptions of the world around me. And though the fog has lifted many of my ideals and beliefs remain the same.
I always have, and always will, believe that a man should work for what he has. A man should provide for himself and his family, and be a productive member of society. Granted there are people who really can not function due to severe physical or mental limitations, but for the most part men are capable of being the provider, or at least sharing that responsibility.
We now live in a society where men are more than willing to sit on there butts and make up excuses for why they are not working. The disability factor has risen drastically in the past 15 years, and a big percentage of it is a farse, yet they are allowed to get away with it. Why is it that the working man, and woman, often have to struggle to survive and have little more than, and sometimes not all of, the necessities of life. Meanwhile Joe slacker is sitting on his couch or in his deer blind, laughing at us supporting him.
I am very close to a certain individual who works in a grocery store and has for 6 years. that person has seen the same individuals come in year after year with their bridge card (food stamps) in hand. Purchase their food, which I am paying for, then make a call on their cell phone and jump in their car to head back to their house that we are paying for. They have heat because I work for a living. They have electric because I work for a living. And now they are passing it on from generation to generation.
At one point in my life I was in a desperate situation and needed some temporary assistance. While sitting in the social services (dss) office, embarrassed to be there,a young man comes in with his forms. Not being able to prevent myself from eaves dropping I listened in as the lady at the counter asked him several questions. He was 18. He was getting cash assistance. He was getting food assistance. He was living with his older brother and he was also getting assistance. He stumbled over one of the question so he went to the car and brought in his mom. She was also getting assistance and was driving a very nice suv.
Now maybe there was some reason he could not work. Maybe I was to quick to judge. But really.
I know jobs can be difficult to find right now, but they can be found.
My 19 year old joined the Marines to guarantee himself work. There are very few men in this country that would be turned down by any of the armed services.
My 21 year old son has 2 jobs. Has worked a good part of his young adult life and is currently supporting his girlfriend and their 2 children, along with his girlfriends mom, (we will not go into that). He had some legal problems as a teenager and young adult and spent a little time in jail. Nothing major just stupid mistakes. He has tattoos all over his body, and yet he is able to get 2 jobs and be a productive member of society.
Something just is not right and it really burns me up.

Just Another Day

This is one from a couple years ago that some of you may have already read elsewhere but I feel it is worthy of republishing here.

Being an avid outdoorsman it is no surprise that my three sons are fond of the outdoors and all the great activities it has to offer.
Fishing for bluegills and crappies is definitely one of their favorite outdoor sports, especially for my 12 year old Bryan. He has been fishing by my side since before he could hold a rod and reel and it is quite obvious that he paid very close attention to what was going on. At 12 years old I can count on him to help fill the freezer with fillets any time, and would bet on him any day to match a lot of tournament anglers catch for catch when it comes to panfish.
In the summer of 2006 , when he was just 9 years old, Bryans skills as a crappie fisherman would be put to the test. While picking up some snacks at a local store we noticed a flyer advertising a kids crappie tournament on Wixom Lake. It would be open to kids of all ages up to 16. Bryan was immediately interested so we signed him up . Being in the mid range of the age class I figured Bryan would do well but reminded him that no matter how he does it is all for fun and it would give us something to look forward to in the next couple weeks.
Well the following two weeks passed ever so slowly. Everyday was talk of nothing but crappie. Checking tackle. Checking line.
Looking over the lake map. Going over in his head where we had caught crappies on the lake in the past.
"What time are we going to get to the lake DAD ?"
"Hey Dad, what should I use for my first lure ?"
"What is the weather going to be like? Are they going to be deep or shallow? Fast or slow???????????????????"
When tournament day finally arrived Bryan had his plan all set. He would start casting his favorite jig and soft plastic combos under one of the bridges and around the rip rap. Since we do not have a boat he would have to fish from shore, which is usually just fine except this day would have the wind blowing from the west and making it difficult for him to cast and for the fish to stay close to the east shoreline that Bryan was fishing. After 2 hours of fishing with only 2 small crappies in his basket I asked Bryan if he wanted to try something different for the last few hours of the tournament to see if he might be able to get into some good slabs. He was more than willing to try anything.
Just down the road was a small bait shop that also rented boats, which I figured might be just what Bryan would need to get him into some serious fish. Man was he happy, and I was right. Shortly after we anchored in the first bay Bryan picked up a nice 10 inch crappie, but was not getting them as fast as he would like. Somewhere in the midst of his first 20 or 30 casts in the boat Bryan figured that it was to windy for his 1/32oz lure to make it to the bottom so he grabbed a 1/8 oz jig and rigged it with his favorite plastic minnow. His new rig no sooner hit the bottom and Bryan lifted his rod tip to set the hook on what would be the first of several nice slabs. A great 12 incher would top off his basket, leaving just enough time to make it to the marina for the 1:00 pm weigh in.
As we approached the boat ramp and weigh station Bryan noticed that there were about 18 kids waiting, with several of them in the teen ages. I once again reminded him that we had a great time and his 10 crappie were great for a nine year old. When we tied up to the dock one of the other kids hollered to the rest of the crowd, " Hey he has some nice ones!"
When Bryan lifted his basket to reveal his catch he received immediate congratulations from the other kids as well as the parents.
And then a barage of questions about where he caught them, what was he using, live bait or artificial, etc. Although he was only 9 at the time he was as tight lipped as the 30 year veteran when it came to giving up his secrets.
He asked me what all the fuss was about his fish as this was just another day of fishing for him. Well as it turned out he was the only kid to catch any crappie so he won the big fish and total weight competition.
Of course I was the big winner of the day when Bryan gave me a big hug and said thanks for taking me dad.