In the good old summertime

“See you in September,” a friend said as our Bible study group parted last week. “What? Only two months left of summer!” I replied. A hot, humid afternoon, I drove to Cook’s Farm Dairy in Ortonville. There, I filled two coolers with 25 containers of my “special order”...

Memorial to my Sweetie dog

You never know what you’ll stumble upon when browsing The Weed Lady’s place. As we drove north toward Fenton, I assured my friend Maureen something beautiful and valuable would call our names. My two previous visits to this gardener’s paradise dated to more than a...

When the cicadas sing

I heard the cicada’s mating song last Saturday. Afterward, I read about the red-eyed menace interrupting golf games, delaying air travel, and creating cloudy spots on radar. Sure, you can’t believe everything you hear and read, and Michigan’s cicada population isn’t...

A brief history of my love for American history

I fell in love with American history my junior year in high school. New to Warren Lincoln High in September 1965, Mr. Harvey leaned his tall figure against the lectern and expounded on the points he’d written on the chalkboard. An average student who preferred...

Remembering significant things

“Iris, don’t be surprised if Daddy doesn’t remember you. And I can’t promise he’ll be awake for a visit,” my cousin said on the phone. “Thanks for the warning. It’s been two years since we last saw him, so we’ll take the risk. Besides, Mel and I plan to visit Mom’s...