They’re all related

When I began working at the museum my perception of Almont’s earliest pioneers was that they were rugged individualists who came to the wilderness to establish their homesteads without the help of family or friends. I could not have been more wrong. Almont’s first...

The light of mercy and service

This week, in the midst of a messy change from our long-term communications provider to another, something wonderful happened. Like a ray of sunshine, an email from Dolores Ganstine appeared in my inbox. “Happy Happy Birthday Iris Hope you have a Wonderful day and...

Spit and Whittle Club meets again

These here last couple of months have caused the boys at the Spit & Whittle Club to come to the weakly metin all fired up. There were so many things that I jist decided I couldn’t report on thim all. But this weeks metin were the most civil till the end. First we...

Rites of passage

I packed my suitcase with my winter clothes, red housecoat, and jewelry box. For the first time in my life, I left home in February 1968 to attend Central Michigan University. In retrospect, the day is grounded as a rite of passage. Never again did I share a bedroom...

Small but powerful acts of love

Nick was quite a character. Back when I was in the Navy, Nick shared the other side of a wall with me. My bed was up against one side in my room and his was up against the opposite side in his room. Even before I knew his name or had met Nick, he made an indelible...

The crows’ conference caws

Friday, January 29, the sun set while I typed the last line of my second novel. Two hundred and ninety-nine pages. Five hundred and eighty five hours. Surprised and gratified, I rolled my chair away from my desk, two days before my deadline. What now? No, best not...