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June 20, 2002
Glen Lake tennis serves up a state finalist and coach of the year!
by Daryl Lick
Sun sports reporter
In the early 80’s a young, confident high school tennis coach took a bunch of cocky, athletically gifted kids and a tennis dynasty was born. Four straight regional championships and some top ten state finishes were the norm. That last championship team in 1983 was led by its #1 singles player Mike Sutherland and coached by his oldest brother Tim.
Fast forward to 2002 - the stars aligned and now Laker head coach Mike Sutherland asked brother Tim to assist him for 2002 Laker tennis. In a storybook season culminated by a regional championship, another top ten state tourney finish, and G.L’s first ever state finalist Neil Kokowicz, a new chapter has been written in the long, successful history of Glen Lake athletics. Special recognition goes to a talented senior class that led the Lakers tennis team: Nate Reed, Betsy Netherton, Kokowicz, Keenan May, Jim Videto, and Patrick Mahoney.
All-Area honors go to Nate Reed, Betsy Netherton, and Neil Kokowicz, while Mike Sutherland was named All-Area Coach of the Year! Congratulations to all!!
Posted by editor at 11:34 PM | Comments (0)
Leelanau Vacation Rentals & Glen Arbor Outdoor give more than they promise
by Norm Wheeler
Sun editor
A busy Monday morning breaks at Leelanau Vacation Rentals & Glen Arbor Outdoor. All the parking spots out front are covered with yards of shredded bark as the Outdoor crews haul loads to groom the woods around the 15 condo associations at The Homestead served by LVR & GAO. Inside it’s Rental Heaven: Central Dispatch, with phones jangling as hopeful vacationers call to reserve a summer week in paradise at one of the 120 properties supervised by Linda Ihme and her capable crews. Linda started Leelanau Vacation Rentals in 1996. (The same year as the Glen Arbor Sun, when Linda took the whole back page for her advertisement, to Jacob’s astonishment!) Since then the business has grown from just 2 properties to 120 all over the area: The Homestead, Glen Lake, Lake Michigan, Lime Lake, Lake Leelanau, Little Traverse Lake, Northport, Leland, Sutton’s Bay; Linda rents all over the county. “When there were only two units,” Linda laughs, “I made the reservations, checked people in, and cleaned the rooms after them. My kids weren’t allowed to go out in the boat until both condos were cleaned! Now it’s more complicated.” Linda took over her husband’s business, Glen Arbor Outdoor, when Bob passed away suddenly 6 months later. Linda had 20 properties to manage by then and Bob was serving 7 of the associations at The Homestead. Both businesses have grown steadily since ‘96. Bob Ihme, Jr. took over GA Outdoor in 1997 at the age of 22. Now he heads up the crew of Ed & Butch Priest, Dave Baxter, Jesse Rollo, (and Brandon Demoulpied in summer, at Christmas, and whenever there’s a snow day from school). Bob’s boys do landscaping, move furniture, pick up garbage, and do interior maintenance with the help of Ed “Mr. Fixit,” who hangs pictures, fixes toilets, installs dishwashers, and “can fix anything except for electric toilet paper.” Linda’s crew at Leelanau Vacation Rentals includes Ranae Ihme, Karen Clark, Mort Erway, Janet Schneider, Kay Nye, Janet Aylsworth, and Paulette Ritchie, with an additional 20 housekeepers every summer. “The two businesses are really one,” Linda says,. “We share the same office space and have our Christmas parties together.”
Leelanau Vacation Rentals rents, maintains, and cleans all of 120 units. “We help decorate, we do the shopping, we basically act as local owners when the real owners aren’t here,” LInda reports. “We are full-time year-round. When people get themselves locked out at midnight, we’re there. We get calls 24 hours a day, and we respond to them all.”
Now potential renters can browse the website, www.leelanau.com/vacation, to see pictures, rates, descriptions, and virtual tours of some of the properties. “We try to give people a realistic view of what they’re getting,” Linda says, “not exaggerated photos, so people aren’t surprised when they arrive.” It’s the dedication and reliability of the staff that makes it all work. “We are so lucky that every one of our employees is great,” Linda nods. “And we have fun. At lunch time in winter things are a bit slower around here, so Janet, Ranae, Karen, and I, and now Mort, all knit together. Mort’s wife couldn’t believe it when he brought her a knit scarf for Christmas. Mort made his mom a shawl. And we’ll take care of our customers just like we take care of our own!”
Posted by editor at 10:35 PM | Comments (0)
It’s a dog’s life at Leelanau Interiors
by Norm Wheeler
Sun editor
When you enter Leelanau Interiors, you get thoroughly inspected. Here comes the three-dog greeting committee: Otis (a Jack Russell), Wally (a shepherd/laud Anna mix), and Harriet ( a Welsh corgi). Otis barks, Wally sniffs, and Harriet looks. You can get the same greeting doubled as Harriet’s baby triplets, “the hoodlums”, join these three on the website: leelanauinteriors.com. In both places you’ll find the people are just as friendly as the dogs. Kristi Brubaker, Kim Gower, Sandy Fox, and Louise Patterson are welcoming as they take turns explaining the past and the present of Leelanau Interiors. Kristi bought the business one year ago on June 1, 2001, from her parents Jo and Stan Brubaker, who wanted to retire after the first 15 years but then held on for another 10. Jo and Stan established Leelanau Interiors in 1972 at the Homestead. In 1976 they purchased the old post office building with a tiny apartment behind it from Steve Bowman. Then in 1978 they added an alcove and a showroom to that original front entrance. But even after 25 years, Jo hasn’t really “retired.” She is still part of the team.
“Jo comes in to do design work for her clients and to boss us around as necessary,” says Kim, the business manager. “Kristi designs, the rest of us support,” Kim adds. “Sandy is in charge of the gift shop and special orders, Louise is the project/design coordinator, and I get the coffee cake and haul the trash. Everybody pets the dogs.”
Leelanau Interiors is not your typical gift shop. It’s full of one-of-a-kind things that change every year or every week. Full of the works of local artists, puppy love items, and interesting and unique home-furnishings, there is something for the ceiling to the walls to the floor. See, for example, the extremely dog-friendly red “Otis chair” which is available for purchase. Kristi reports that many people tell her that it’s their favorite store, and Kim adds that it’s because the “help is so good lookin!”
“People come to get their dog fix,” says Sandy, “or they bring along their own dogs.”
Louise chimes in “There’s always water at the door!”
At Leelanau Interiors, clients can expect detailed designing and outfitting of their space right down to the toilet paper, toothbrushes, and comfort stations for their pets. “People want to be able to walk in for the summer, with towels folded, beds made, and the coffee-maker ready to perk,” Kim explains. “Sometimes we see that the groceries have already been delivered (probably by Ryan Obcamp, their “boy Friday”) and the fridge is stocked. We can create a turn-key home situation.” As the website indicates, they create comfortable designs, they are easy to work with, and they are good at solving problems. If a client is building a new home, Leelanau Interiors watches construction, trouble-shoots, and uses both old and new materials in the design as requested.
Jo Brubaker has designed worldwide, from NY to California to Antigua, “from small homes to corporate retreats and everything in between.” Now Kristi brings her considerable gifts to the business. “Kristi is a genius at creating warm, welcoming spaces,” Kim says. “You have to be as comfortable with your designer as with your hair stylist or doctor, and that’s what we do here, provide warmth and trust.”
Kristi’s gift for design can be seen at the Western Avenue Grill. “We created a ‘northern lodge’ style, with birch bark and dark mahogany, fish and Adirondack style art, the hanging canoe, with lots of reds and greens,” Kristi explains. “The back room has just been remodeled as a non-smoking dining room,with pine tables and birch bark walls.” It is a beautiful space. The new game room will continue the motif, with a birch bark covered light over the pool table.
Visit Leelanau Interiors, or go the the website. You’ll find an emphasis on warmth, comfort and friendliness. “Mostly we’re just a darn nice group of people” Kim assures.
Kristi concurs: “And you’ll always be greeted by a free smile and a couple of dogs to lick your ankles!”
Posted by editor at 09:37 PM | Comments (0)
Curiosities abound at the Miser’s Horde
by Ashlea Turner
Sun contributor
Why move an already established and successful antique shop to Empire? According to Paul and Heidi Skinner there are countless reasons to establish new roots for their business, Miser’s Horde. After ten years of business in Interlochen, Paul and Heide decided to move to the “picturesque village” of Empire. According to Paul, the move signifies a “perfect marriage” of home and work.
Paul and Heidi love the Empire area because of its natural beauty, the sociability of village life, the great library, and the Big Lake. The Skinner’s move to Empire’s Front Street allows them to take advantage of village life while running a friendly and unique business. Although Miser’s Horde is usually not open when Paul and Heidi are down on the beach enjoying the sunset with the rest of the village, don’t hesitate to stop by before or after the sunset to chat and peruse the curiosities. Miser’s Horde is open for business whenever Paul and Heidi are around because they conveniently work in the same thoughtfully remodeled building they now call home.
A stroll around Miser’s Horde will surely leave the curious shopper with a feeling that the Skinners are interesting people with eclectic, thoughtful, and witty sensibilities. Because the retail space is small yet spacious, Paul and Heidi will be swapping antiques throughout the year from their encyclopedic collection of items. Although the collection is both rich in depth and breadth, there are some themes that are sure to resonate with the Up North antiquer. One will find fishing lures and reels named the “Killer Dillon” and the “Paw Paw River Go Getter,” a ship’s course corrector, quirky 1970’s Traverse City Snowmobile Racing pins, maps and postcards, and other items from local businesses long ago come and gone that tell the story of the area and its people.
According to Paul and Heidi, the antique business is one of natural storytelling. They look forward to meeting new pedestrians and dealers, not only because they are always looking to buy from individuals, but because the people and the items usually have good stories to tell. And with any antique comes an interesting story. When asked how they became involved in the antique business, Heidi responded, of course, with a story about an old vase. When Heidi was moving from Texas to Michigan, she needed to have a garage sale to get rid of a lot of her accumulated treasures. Before the garage sale she decided to peruse a few local antique shops to check on some prices. Much to her surprise, she had to revise her prices because her prized vase was priced at $95. And so the business began. Paul’s arrival a few years later contributed a rich sense of history to the business. And so the business grew.
Although Paul’s parents still respond to his vocational choice with “that’s all well and good, but when are you going to get a proper job?,” Empire has welcomed the Skinners and Miser’s Horde with open arms. If you just want a good chat or you want to expand your collection of egg cups or Billiards Tables, stop by and give Miser’s Horde a bit of your time. If the weather is nice, it’s best to call ahead: 326-6081.
Posted by editor at 08:39 PM | Comments (0)
Demystifying Wine
by Ian Richardson
Sun staff writer
Summer is finally here and that means grilling out and relaxing with friends and family on the deck or the beach. But before you start thinking of trading wine for a cold frosty beer, remember there are some wines that are perfect for the summer season.
Two great white wines for summer sipping are sauvignon blanc/fume blanc and pinot grigio/pinot gris. Both are light in style with grigio/gris having a slightly fuller body. Chill these wines before drinking to release their fresh fruit flavors that match perfectly with summer’s plentiful bounty. Be sure to put one of these wines on your shopping list when heading to the farmer’s market, they balance nicely with fresh veggies and fruit without overpowering the food.
For grilling you need a more substantial wine that will stand up to the smoky flavors and sauces of grilled meats. There are several wines that can hold their own against the grill. You want to look for simple, fruity, quaffable reds such as: red zinfandel, petit sirah, Australian shiraz, and even a Beaujolais. The fruit in these wines complements the flavors of grilling, and being fuller-bodied wines they don’t run the risk of getting lost in the intensity of the food. Wine also goes great with another summer food-pizza. Since pizza is an Italian dish, pretty much any Italian red pairs nicely with it, also red zinfandel and Argentine malbecs make a nice pairing.
As with many issues with wine there is a great debate on matching food with wine. The traditional idea of white wine with chicken and red wine with beef has begun to be challenged and no two people can seem to agree. So here is my two cents on the subject:
I drink the wine I like no matter what I am eating. Yes, there are wines that pair best with certain foods and complement them nicely, but if I feel like a chardonnay and I am eating a steak I’m not going to run to the store to buy a red wine because that is what I am supposed to drink with a steak. Since I don’t typically find myself at home after a long day of work making stuffed roasted quail with wild truffles and having to decide if that 1985 Chateau Margeaux sitting in my cellar would go great with it, I don’t think I will have to worry about offending anyone when I slap together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and gulp a glass of zinfandel. (Which by the way makes a very nice pairing!)
Reviewed wines for this issue:
Raftshol Vineyards Claret-This is a Bordeaux blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, and Merlot. Full-bodied and soft. This is my favorite Michigan red. This wine shows the quality of where Michigan wines are heading. Buy it now if you like it, there isn’t much left of this vintage.
Bel Lago Gewurztraminer- Bel Lago is great at growing grape varieties no one else does and their Gewurztraminer is a perfect example. Full-bodied with a great nose. Wonderful fruit flavors on the start turning slightly spicy on the finish. A wonderfully complex wine. This recently beat out their pinot grigio as my favorite Michigan white. This will make a great picnic wine.
Ironstone Obsession- An off-dry white full of fruit flavors with a subtle touch of carbonation. A nice sipping wine for someone who likes a sweeter wine. Can be paired with spicy foods, Cajun or Asian. This is the current favorite of Karen at The Arbor Light.
Posted by editor at 07:40 PM | Comments (0)
AFRICAN DISPATCH FROM A NATIVE SON
By Jacob Wheeler
Sun International Correspondent
ACCRA, Ghana: March 17, 2002 -- A cool breeze blowing off the Southern Atlantic is a relief this morning, as are the usual cast of characters hunkering on the porch at the Hotel de California in Adabraka..Same terminally drunk German man, Herr Schmidt, sleeping on the sofa in the lobby, mumbling something about Lufthansa technical manuals in his sleep. Same rasta boys hanging out on the porch, trying in vain to sell homemade bongo drums to every Ubruni (white man, in the Twe language) who walks by. As the song says, “you can check out but never leave.” Same smell of pineapples and smog hanging over this congested city every dawn.
I arrived back on the coast yesterday after an easy-paced, four-day journey from Burkina Faso directly to the north. My dried lips had had enough. Shed the sandles caked in red desert and walked the beach barefoot down by Jamestown, where the poor kids train for the World Cup or a Vegas fight night. Exchanged "Bon jour monsieur" and all the Francophone politeness for "What's happening, Buddy-man?" and the layed back English culture preferred by this traveler.
Of course, the food in Ghana leaves much to be desired, as it is a former English and Dutch colony. I stomached the worst meal I've ever tasted Tuesday night in the port town of Yeji: a plate of cold rice with something like barbecued yoghurt-mucus on top and alleged chicken on the side (I can't prove it, but the meat's shape suggested a small rodent: fried, charred and with long ears. Yes, it was dead). Cuisine - one must use the French word here - in Ghana is so depressing, it could turn a western food critic into a Russian novelist. Point, French Africa.
But such are the joys of budget travel.
When I wade in the Gold Coast surf this afternoon, it will complete a journey started last Thursday in Gorum Gorum, Burkina Faso's northernmost town near the border to Mali and Niger. There we woke half an hour before dawn and climbed up a hill of boulders outside of town to watch the sun rise over the nearby Sahara Desert. An annoying haze blocked any majestic colors, but the great sun did not fail. By 7 a.m. our faces were punished and shadows were a luxury only for shrub roots. We retired to drink Nescafe in the courtyard of a little, ramshackled hotel where visitors sleep in straw, tee-pee huts.
The ensuing bus ride from Gorum Gorum (500 kilometers) back to the capital Ouagadogou was a test of endurance and will. Eight and a half hours of bone-jarring bumps and swaying back and forth like a Baptist choir on a "tro tro" bus built for 25, yet carrying more like 40 passengers. The old man and the small child sitting behind us puked and defecated in harmony. Wonderful smells. The live chickens at our feet didn't seem to mind. Stopped at every village to pick up more passengers, for in Africa there's always room for one more.
Could not bear the thirst for water any longer. Purchased fist-size bags of "ice wat-ah, pure wat-ah" and dropped an iodine tablet inside. Ignored the subtle metallic taste and touched it off with the most succulent orange ever tasted. African style: sliced the top off and sunk teeth into a layer of flesh. Squeezed the meat into juice and sucked citrus refreshment out of one single hole. Vampire style. The orange afterwards looked like a deflated basketball. Eaten without even removing the cover.
Before leaving Ouagadogou I dared to visit the central market to buy long pants and a shirt with African design. Only little boys wear shorts in this part of the world, and any grown man wearing them must have just stepped off the plane. My white skin has acquired a bronze color by now, so the tan factor is irrelevant.
I somehow avoided the jewelry and sandel peddlers and didn't succumb to the smell of rotten meat or vegetables whafting from every corner of the massive roofed maze that is the market. Ducked the occasional bird flying at my head or vulture that found its way through a hole in the straw roof to prey on the next dead tourist. Bought a bronze, short-sleeved collared shirt with African designs at the waistline and a pair of used Wrangler jeans from one of the few clothing peddlers not offering bargains on Osama bin Laden t-shirts made in Jakarta, Indonesia: the bearded warrior with his handsome smile and menacing Kalashnikov rifle opposite a World Trade Center tower burning in jet fuel, all on a single shirt.
This item did not reflect the political stance of the locals though. Bin Laden shirts were outnumbered by I Love NYC or Michael Jordan shirts by at least 4-1. Mr. Jihad is nothing more than a symbol of meaningless pop culture here.
Monday I bid baguettes and brown tundra behind and embarked alone on another busride south to Tamale, in northern Ghana (no connection to Tamale hot sauce. I asked a local kid. He asked if it wasn't already hot enough for me) I payed 3,000 Cedis (38 American cents) for a long-overdue haircut there. Problem was, the job took an hour and a half because the barber wasn't used to cutting the long, curly hair of a white boy. He didn't have any scissors, so we just coerced off layer by layer until my hair was as short as an African's.
I arrived on Tuesday afternoon in Yeji, the northern port town on Lake Volta, and waited a day to board the Yapei Queen steamship along with a forklift, one German, about 200 Ghanians and, let's say, 30 huge crates of yams that had just been plucked from the fields. The yams are the staple food for much of Ghana, and make their way down the Volta to Accra, to feed a city of 2.5 million people. Lake Volta, the largest man-made lake in the world, was created in the 1960’s when Ghana's ambitious president Kwame Nkrumah installed the Akosombo Dam near the base of the Volta River. Thousands of acres were flooded to irrigate the country, though local tribes had trouble understanding the pleas of their chiefs to relocate because they had never heard of such technology before. "The water flows this way today. Why on earth would it flow that way tomorrow?"
I was lucky enough to nab one of only two air-conditioned, bunk cabins for the 30-hour journey, thereby avoiding sleeping in the crates of yam and straw with the locals. Yes, I whimped out and bought an unnecessary luxury.
On the second night the captain knocked on the door in the middle of the night and informed me that I should share the 6- by 10-foot cabin with a minister named Joseph ... and his sick wife Mary and their infant child, who were traveling to Accra so she could get an operation. I protested for about five minutes and then realized the selfishness of my ways. The captain whispered to Joseph that he would have to excuse me for I didn't understand the way a Ghanian travels, as I peered out on the deck and saw natives sprawled out, contently occupying every inch of floor space. I relented in the end, in exchange for a gift of dried fish that I will not eat, and let the good family occupy the cabin with me. The baby did not make a peep all night.
When I awoke yesterday morning, the dry Sahel plains had evaporated into the lush, rolling hills of the Volta region and a mountain range on the eastern border to Togo. A cool breeze whisked away the sweat globlets as soon as they appeared on my arms. The German man in the other cabin, Werner, and I shared a fresh coconut and some Tamale sweet bread for breakfast. We arrived at the Akosomobo dam by noon and caught a bus to Accra on smooth, paved roads. My traveling companions, Hans and Anne, were waiting with cold bottles of Star, the local beer, at the Hotel de California.
By now the murderous Sahara Desert was only a remnant on my sandels and in my journal. A place I may visit again some day, but not after a long bath and tour into gluttony.
-- Jacob Wheeler is the founding editor of the Glen Arbor Sun. For more of his road adventures find him at the local coffee shop, as he is completely through with Nescafe.
Posted by editor at 06:42 PM | Comments (0)
Bibbs comes back!
by Norm Wheeler
Sun editor
After a two year absence, Bibbs Market returns to Glen Arbor. Remember when Brian and Marcie Hester got permission back in 1994 from Bill Maclachlan to build a pole barn (the one that is now Sleeping Bear Woodworks) next to Old School so they could sell fruits and vegetables? And then they weren’t here in 1995, remember? And then in 1996 they were back again, that time in what is now the T-shirt and retail shop at Cherry Republic. Then remember how in 1997 they gravitated back to Old School and put the sides on the pole barn they’d originally built? Well, in 1998 Linda Ihme bought the Glen Arbor Farm Market from Dan Weisen across from the tennis courts, and Bibbs moved in there. By that time Brian and Marcie felt like our own local Bedouins or Okies, yearly nomads looking for an oasis. Linda was fixing to expand her Leelanau Vacation Rentals business into the farm market space, so Hesters hitched up their Conestoga wagon yet again to move on. They saw an opportunity and bought the Manitou Farm Market on M-22 up near Leland (by the Good Harbor Winery). And there they finally hunkered down.
During the winter Brian saw an empty space in the Mercantile building in Glen Arbor and, as Hester clearly abhors a vacuum, he moved in. Says Brian: “We’re here for the long haul!” Jessie Hester, the oldest daughter, runs the Glen Arbor Bibbs. They still run the Manitou Farm Market, where all baking and sandwich operations occur. Every day they deliver fresh bread (including pumpkin and banana), pies, cookies, brownies, donuts, pastries, rolls, and other assorted goodies. They also have preserves, local maple syrup and honey, and in-season fruits: strawberries, cherries, peaches, and apples.
“We’re thrilled to be back in town,” Brian adds. “The last couple of years we just maintained a donut case at the Leelanau Coffee Roasters and a baked goods case at Anderson’s IGA because we knew we would eventually be back and we didn’t want people to forget us.” All of the Hester children work at the Manitou Farm Market , so it’s “a true Mom & Pop operation.” They were awarded the prize for “best cinnamon twists in the county” by an area tabloid, and those will be available in Glen Arbor now too. “We often sell 1000 a day!” Brian reports. They also sell up to 150 pies/day up there, and now we’ll be able to taste them down here.
Oh yeah, remember when Brian Hester was nailed one night point blank in the face by a skunk when Bibbs was located across from the tennis courts? (See GA Sun, issue 5, 1998) “Ever since then my nose has been on steroids,” Brian laughs. He recently smelled cigar smoke while driving north with his windows up along M-22, and when he passed Sonny Swanson’s fruit stand by Sugarloaf many minutes later, there stood a man next to a Lincoln, “puffin’ a big cigar!” When you find the aroma of a delicious Bibbs pie irresistible, imagine what it does to Brian Hester!
Posted by editor at 05:45 PM | Comments (0)
Western Avenue Grill designs two new experiences
by Clara B. Voyant
Sun contributor
Bring together a talented, creative interior designer and a successful, experienced restaurateur, and all of northwest lower Michigan comes out ahead with the recent major renovation of the Western Avenue Grill in Glen Arbor.
Known for its friendly, comfortable atmosphere and wonderful food, 14 year owner Bill Miltz decided to make some changes to stay ahead of the pack in the highly competitive restaurant market in Leelanau County. Bill teamed up with Kristi Brubaker of Leelanau Interiors over the last few years, and Kristi redesigned the restaurant with unique birch bark walls and a log finish.
While not increasing seating, Bill and Kristi have managed to create a whole new look and atmosphere to the WAG by enclosing its outdoor deck to create an expanded bar area, and by converting the back deck area from its sports theme to a rustic, Adirondack style formal dining room complete with high-backed booths and white table cloths. The new Sudsy’s Sports Bar area will feature a pool table, shuffleboard table, three additional TVs (for a total of 6), and best of all, a state of the art smoke eater/air cleanser system that is truly amazing. The formal dining room will accept reservations and will by non-smoking and adults only. It will also be available to private parties and receptions.
Head chef Paul Kokowicz had brought back grouper, tuna, and the WAG’s famous walleye and whitefish. Nightly specials will feature filet mignon, prime rib, and crab legs, with a vast array of Koko’s famous sauces as accompaniments. Bar manager Tim Sutherland put long hours into researching a new wine list he promises will appeal to everyone. Cakebread chardonnay, Rutherford Hill merlot, and a to-die-for Turnbull Cabernet are some of his exciting choices. He will offer nightly specials to appeal to your taste buds as well as your wallet. Sudsy’s Sports Bar with its 6 well-positioned TVs, and shuffleboard and pool tables will make for the ultimate sports fan’s paradise. And new house manager Kristin Aitch promises across the board improvements in quality of service, promising a warm, friendly atmosphere that caters to all ages.
Posted by editor at 05:43 PM | Comments (0)
Wind, waves, and healing solitude
by Mary Sharry (reprinted from Detroit Free Press, 5/5/93)
Sun staff writer
There are various means of dealing with the complexity of loneliness. For me, a solitary walk along the shoreline of Lake Michigan in the Leelanau Peninsula offers resolution. The northern air, heavy with mist or light and crisp in sunshine and coolness, revives me. I also like to lose myself in minute discoveries along the shore.
I scan the horizon, the expanse of water and the sand where I walk -- sand that is heavy and wet from the swell of the tide. I leave footprints, then turn to watch as they are washed away. Sometimes my footprints fall side by side with those of a deer that came down to the water for a drink earlier in the morning.
I pick up a wet, colorful stone and slip it into my pocket -- something to take home to show my children.
A snow fence leans in the sand where someone placed it years ago. The once-bright orange wooden slats have grayed with age. The tilt of the fence creates an arc in its shadow. It reminds me of the subtle mystery of an Andrew Wyeth painting -- a shadow of something left unsaid that pulls the viewer into a detailed element in the scene.
Old pilings from a dock of another era poke out of the water. From a distance, they look like the heads of seals off the California coast.
A dog follows me on this walk. Head high, he sniffs the air as he trots along. He seems to search for something ancestral to fathom his reason for being here.
For me, however, out here under the expanse of sky, with this enormous body of water before me -- this is reality. Nothing else seems to matter at the moment. This solitary walk is my serious business. For the time being, this is the real world.
When do I return? When do I sense I have gone far enough? Usually a feeling of fulfillment or resolve comes to me. Perhaps it is because of the exertion of walking in the sand. I am ready -- renewed, refreshed, sometimes enlightened, always uplifted. Sometimes I walk my way out of anger or hurt, confusion, sadness, loneliness, all the emotion human individuality bears.
Vital as human contact may be, there is another side -- the singular, the solitary self -- that needs to be touched, too. It requires the nourishment of nature. The walk along the shoreline of this great lake soothes and calms.
Sometimes, too, I walk along the beach for no other reason than that it is there. The urge to see distance is fulfilled. I am given a sense of freedom in open space, as I watch clouds build up over blue water.
What a gift! What a treasure -- Lake Michigan, the Leelanau Peninsula.
Posted by editor at 04:46 PM | Comments (0)
June 01, 2002
A Ghanaian fighter rises from the dust
By Jacob Wheeler
Sun contributor
ACCRA, Ghana – Amid wet sheets hanging from clotheslines and scrawny chickens running about, the budding star of the Akotoku boxing club is not difficult to spot. Kpakpo Allotey, nicknamed “Lightning” by the local children who adore him, takes one jab after another at the hot and humid sub-Saharan African air as his trainers look on.
Lightning is a fighter, and a good one at that. He boxes in the super featherweight class, and has won all six of his professional bouts to date. The 22 year-old Accra native’s sneaky left hook and quick footwork evoke comparisons to Sugar Ray Robinson. At the urge of his coaches he plays checkers – called “drafts” in Ghana – between fights to improve his patience in the ring.
But Lightning’s training grounds are humble at best. The name of the club, “Akotoku” means fistfight in the local Gá language, and that fits the feel of the surroundings like a glove. The Akotoku club is located a few blocks off the Atlantic Ocean in a slum area of Accra known as James Town, the mean streets of Ghana’s capital where mostly fishermen reside.
In fact, calling Akotoku a club doesn’t aptly describe the hardships Kpakpo has endured on what he hopes is a road to success and stardom. The boxers here train on a dirt surface in a vacant lot that is surrounded on three sides by the kind of dilapidated, windowless two-story fishing shanties that make one James Town street indistinguishable from the next.
In fact, my taxi driver and I spend half an hour rolling down windows and asking the local boys about Akotoku before we locate the club. Its unofficial address, on Zion Street, means little to cabbies here since Accra just began adopting street names in the last 10 years. Ghanaian taxi drivers are used to shuttling passengers to landmarks or well-known hotels, but a foreigner requesting a tour through James Town is nearly unheard of.
Wide irrigation ditches on both sides of the bumpy road make the entrance into Akotoku an obstacle course. Because space is a commodity in Accra, a neighbor hangs clothes out to dry next to the boxing ring and lets their poultry run free. The dozen boys in the club sit on empty crates meant for yams as they cool down after training. I imagine them hurtling over the rock piles and tree stumps scattered about when they run wind sprints.
Yet Akotoku is credited with having harvested some of Ghana’s best boxers over the last 25 years – and even some who went on to win world championships. The king of them all is Azumah Nelson, whose name immediately brings a smile to any Ghanaian boy’s face. “Zoom Zoom” Nelson became a world champion in the featherweight class by outlasting his opponent, Wilfred Gomez in 11 rounds, in 1984 in Puerto Rico.
Nelson went on to fame and fortune and has since retired, but has had no contact with Akotoku since he joined the professional ranks. Ike Quartey, Alfred Kotey and D.K. Poison are other boxers who honed their skills here and have gone on to win world championships for Ghana. Their success has taken them around the world and earned them billions of Cedis ($1 equals nearly 9,000 Cedis). But the Akotoku club has seen none of that money.
Making do with what’s here
Sitting on an empty barrel, studying Kpakpo closely as the phenom jumps rope in a corner of the yard, is the trainer, nicknamed Spider. Clad in a neon yellow Florida t-shirt and jogging pants, Spider dresses like a sun-soaked tourist, but his job is no day at the beach. He is known all over Ghana as a legendary boxing coach because of his ability to turn young street-hardened boys in James Town into fighters who use their brains as well as their fists when they enter the ring.
The trainer preaches patience and discipline between the ropes. “Wait, wait until your opponent spends his energy, then go to work!” he lectures.
Spider’s slightly crooked nose proves that he, too, was a boxer in his younger days. He passes his own experiences onto Kpakpo, with whom he has worked since 1994. Since then Lightning has won 36 out of 40 amateur bouts, but has only been a professional fighter since last February.
“Endurance is the key,” Spider tells him. “Just go into the ring and deliver. The knockout will come on its own.” This trainer usually prepares his boxer for a six-round fight, but Lightning has been fortunate lately. In his last bout, just after Christmas, he knocked out the Ivorian, Sea Augustine, in just two rounds. Lightning is now ranked among the best super featherweight fighters in Ghana. But Spider hopes that he will be the best in his country, maybe even Africa, by the tenth match.
If Spider is the teacher and the strategist, then Bing is the motivator at Akotoku. Nicknamed Bing Crosby, though he resembles a mean bulldog more than a gentle singer, this short and stout Ghanaian wears a White Sox baseball cap, a No Fear t-shirt cut off at the arms and a gold chain around his neck. He jokes out loud to the neighborhood boys how frightened the newcomer looks when I approach the ring with hesitance during my first visit.
“What are you afraid of? You didn’t come here to box, did you?” he yells. Then Bing changes gears when he sees my eyes taking in the sorry state of Akotoku. “The conditions are not good but we make do,” he says. “We don’t have a funding base, yet we produce boxers of international fame.”
Reactions are mixed when I ask about Azumah Nelson, the Muhammed Ali of Ghanaian boxing. The coaches at Akotoku are proud that this club produced a national hero, but bitter that the relationship between the two did not continue. In a telephone interview, Nelson tells me only that times have changed since he trained at Akotoku, and the club is no longer a good one.
After thunder comes lightning
But at Akotoku the talk of the town is Kpakpo Allotey, who wears black sneakers and blue gym shorts with the word L-I-G-H-T-N-I-N-G engraved on them in red. He is not a menacing presence, standing only 5’9 at most and weighing less than 150 lbs. Still, Lightning’s legs are conditioned like powerful turbines, and he does a crossover pivot faster than anyone could possibly punch.
Kpakpo’s uncle was a featherweight boxer at Akotoku with a style so explosive that he earned the nickname “Thunder”. His father was a gentle farmer who let the boy enter the ring with some reluctance. But there was no going back when Lightning showed Akotoku what he could do. “Very, very good footwork,” remarks Charles Heward-Mills, a Ghanaian educated in England who serves as a liaison between the club and the outside world. Heward-Mills helps me as an interpreter since Kpakpo speaks very little English.
Lightning enjoyed what would be the experience of a lifetime for many poor Ghanaian boys in July of 2000. He fought in the 30th annual Miller Light/Indiana Black Expo Amateur Boxing Tournament in Indianapolis where he won all three of his bouts – the last two against Americans.
Kpakpo’s last opponent Peter Bush had told him before the fight that if the African won, ‘my friends will shoot you’. Lightning beat him in four rounds and emerged unscathed. “Rough guys, but nice place,” he remembered about America. Kpakpo takes good care of his trophy commemorating the fights and won’t let any of the other boys in James Town near it, and for good reason. Anything gold shines in these parts.
Bing and Spider are sensitive to talk of Lightning leaving the club if he begins fighting on the international stage some day. They are afraid he will leave Akotoku and forget about it, like boxers before him. Efforts are made to sign Kpakpo to a contract before he becomes too good and popular.
When I ask Lightning what advantages he gains from training and fighting in such dismal facilities, Bing answers for him: “Kpakpo likes the United States but prefers to train here because we train the hard way. We ask him to cut down trees and do roadwork and climb mountains. When boxers go off to America or Europe they become soft, whereas boxers who train here before they go fight have that advantage.”
The hands of temptation are just beginning to reach in and touch Kpakpo, now that he is 6-0 and gaining prominence on the national stage – no doubt one of the greatest boxing countries in Africa. For instance, Dr. Arthur Don, a former state minister who promoted the event on December 28 at the Globe Cinema in Accra -- where Lightning won his sixth professional bout – wouldn’t mind helping out Kpakpo on his path to stardom.
Dr. Don is no stranger to Akotoku’s prospects and has no trouble finding the club amidst the maze of dilapidated shacks. He talks glowingly of promoting the sport. “I want to make boxing the national pastime here through a program called the Stardom Sports Series. No one can go to sleep on these warm, sub-Saharan African nights when a Ghanaian wins a world championship.”
The promoter speaks with the passion and eloquence of a minister. “Boxers become role models, especially when they rise up out of the ghettos and inspire children. We are in dire need of heroes because we are still emerging from the throes of colonialism.”
Off the streets and into the ring
The number of street fights in James Town has declined recently despite the ghetto’s dog-eat-dog mentality. That’s because Akotoku invites anyone to come and try their hands in the ring on Friday afternoons. “We watch for talent in potential boxers,” admitted the club’s gym manager Herbert Bruce-Thompson. But Friday’s open challenges are a (relatively) safe way to pull together the community at week’s end.
Crowds of several thousand show up to cheer for their friends and jeer their enemies next to a primitive ring supported by stones on all sides. “The police come if they do it in the street,” said Thompson. “Here the referee tells them what’s legal and illegal.”
And anyone means anyone. On this particular Friday two good friends, Kwame, 5 and Emma, 6, are allowed to fight each other with Spider officiating. Since they are so young the gloves look like giant marshmallows on their tiny hands, yet they fight with the tenacity of tigers. Kwame, the smaller one, imitates Lightning in his leg movements, but finds himself whooped from the get-go.
In the next fight each boy’s father stands at opposite corners of the ring threatening to take away their son’s dinner – probably rice and plantains -- if he is defeated. Competition is fierce, but everyone understands the bouts are just for fun, as Spider leads the crowd in applauding after each fight.
No one leaves Akotoku until seeing Lightning in action. Under Spider’s tutelage the hero only dances and plays defense in the first round, waiting patiently for a rare opportunity to throw a left jab. He accidentally receives a low blow to start the second, but gets right up and puts his opponent on the ropes, only to see how the nemesis will react when cornered. Kpakpo backs off and lets the boy chase him around the ring, always dancing back and forth, shuffling his feet.
Finally, above the crowd’s chatter, Bing yells, “OK, let’s go to work Kpakpo,” and the boxer pummels his opponent into the ground.
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