Glen Arbor Sun

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June 28, 2007

Remodeled Empire beach draws varying reactions

By Jacob Wheeler
Sun editor

“This will not be your grandmother’s beach, not the beach you’ve had here the last 50 years,” Empire Village Council member Karen Baja admitted to concerned local residents in mid-June during a meeting of the Park Committee, which makes recommendations to the Council on matters concerning the public beach.

As she spoke, trucks were busy laying new asphalt on the road, sidewalks and parking lots at Empire’s magnificent public beach. The basketball court had already been temporarily razed, and walls erected between the parking lots and the beach. But most striking of all, a new playground — gigantic by the beach’s previous standards — now dominated the view for those arriving at the beach and, as it turned out, the view from much of Storm Hill as well.

Photo by Norm Wheeler

The Empire beach project is the result of a $500,000 state matching grant to upgrade and rebuild facilities like the public bathrooms, the road and sidewalks, and multiple private donations, which foot the bill for the new playground. To a minority of locals, the playground, the wall and the concrete are eyesores that damage the best public beach for miles around, and an example of local government failing its constituents. To others, it solves some of the beach’s biggest problems, and turning down the money available once the grant was secured would have been akin to looking a gift horse in the mouth. At a Village Council meeting on June 26, most locals spoke in favor of the project, and a couple of concerned youngsters pleaded for the new playground to be kept where it is. One even offered a list of 72 signatures in support of it.

The Empire beach project will undoubtedly attract larger crowds, especially children eager to enjoy the playground — a product of Gametime Corporation in Atlanta and the kind used in most schools and municipalities. Baja calls it “the Ford of playgrounds … not a Rolls Royce and not a Vega: we went with the middle ground.” Yet Empire’s new beachscape will probably go down as the most controversial local story of the summer.

Janet Weiler lives in nearby Lakeview Orchards, just east of Empire on M-72, and she comes to Empire beach to swim a mile every day during the warm weather to prepare for triathlons. “I moved here 12 years ago because I love Lake Michigan and our beautiful beach. I think what these people did here is a desecration of a beautiful spot that we were given here in Empire with a moral obligation to maintain. It breaks my heart to see artificial structures distracting from the amazing view.”

Ashlea Walter, a member of the Village Council who, like Baja serves on the Park Committee, takes a pragmatic approach. “I admit that when you first see (the new beachscape), it looks tall. Before, the only tall features were the slide and swings. What I think we all struggle with is that when living in a village or municipality, we have to consider the good of the whole. My frustration is that this has been in process for a while now. We’ve seen the schematic drawings; we’ve seen it on paper. We have held dozens of meetings about the playground.

“It’s probably not my first pick for playground material, but it’s wonderful to see how many kids are using it already — more than I’ve ever seen before the Fourth of July.”

The plan to remodel the Empire beach began over four years ago when deputy clerk Darleen Friend applied for a state grant to rebuild the public bathroom, which had fallen into disrepair, and fix the beach’s chronic septic problems. Encouraged by the Traverse City-based engineering firm Gosling Czubak (the Village’s sole client) and empowered by Empire beach’s prime spot on Lake Michigan and its proximity to the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore, the Village won the matching grant, which stipulated it would receive two-thirds of the $500,000 from Lansing and come up with the rest itself. The approval came as a surprise to many, and it allowed the Village Council to give the beach much more than cosmetic changes — like building walls.

“Something there is that doesn’t love a wall” — Robert Frost

Len Shalda, Superintendent of Empire’s Department of Public Works for the last three decades, had been calling for the erection of a wall between the parking lots and the beach to stop sand from migrating to the pavement.

“The last several years we’ve hauled out 300-400 yards of sand per year that blows onto the street,” he says. “We’d stockpile as much as we could, and the sand was free for anyone who wanted to come and get it. But the Department of Environmental Quality (DEQ) wouldn’t let us put it back on the beach. Being in a critical dune area, we have to do what the DEQ says.” As for concrete, the DEQ stipulates that the wall must be portable. “We have to be able to move it if they tell us to,” explains Shalda.

The series of walls along the axis where sidewalk and road meets sand, from the southernmost parking lot near the Empire Anchor to the Lighthouse near South Bar Lake, are between two and four feet tall. They are made of a shade of poured concrete that, Shalda says, “blends in with the beach. As walls go, this is a neutral color.” He contrasts the walls at Empire beach with the ugly cement gray of the walls at the public beach in nearby Frankfort — not to mention the lack of aesthetics paid to infamous walls in Berlin, China, Palestine and the Mexican border.

Some who visited Empire beach during June, while construction was underway, grimaced at the sight of a wall that had replaced an open view of sand and water. While sitting in one’s car, one was no longer able to watch the sun set into Lake Michigan. (The sidewalks and parking lots, themselves, have since been raised by 6-12 inches to alleviate the problem of seeing over the wall. In turn, critics accuse the engineers of solving a concrete problem by adding more concrete.)

Locals like Weiler say they were aware that a wall was to be built, but that they had no idea it was to be so high, or so out of touch with the natural landscape. “Maybe we needed some sort of barrier,” Weiler admits. “But we could have used dunegrass, or snow walls, or something to enhance the land rather than desecrate it.”

Holly Sorenson takes her criticism a step further. She claims she has tried to participate in the political process toward shaping how the remodeled beach would look, but to no avail. “About 50 of us met at the Town Hall and divided into groups to brainstorm alternative ideas after the original plan was unveiled. We came up with creative, wonderful ideas, but the Village Council voted 4-3 against us on every point. The Council thought they were doing good things, but they used bad judgment. They didn’t consult the community.” Another local attested that one of the key ideas that emerged from an “Envision Empire” brainstorming session more than five years ago was to install wooden boardwalks to benefit pedestrians. Somehow the boardwalk morphed into concrete sidewalks.

“Furthermore,” says Sorenson, “It was all completely backwards to hire an engineer for this project who had never done any beach work before.”

To be fair, the beachscape recommendations of Baja and Walter, as well as former Park Committee member Cheryl Fettes, were overruled by the other Village Council members, many of whom were voted out of office last November. Baja supported the wall because she envisioned it saving the parking lot — “a nice, utilitarian addition because otherwise the asphalt would crumble as cars parked closer and closer to the sand,” she says — while Walter did not support the wall.

“Ashlea and I inherited this,” Baja said. “The grant had already been applied for and awarded prior to our arrival (on the Park Committee). There is a new village council now, but we decided not to go back and revisit for fear of losing the grant. We assumed that the majority of people wanted improvements made to the beach.”

Private money on public land

The playground was the result of a dialogue that began with Baja in April, 2006 and led to $38,000 from two big donations and hundreds of smaller contributions from local residents who wanted to improve the existing playground for their children and grandchildren. The Village also took advantage of another matching grant, this one from Gametime, which agreed to match private donations dollar-per-dollar in the name of fighting childhood obesity. Critics have compared the playground, a two-story, multicolored plastic giant that sits just to the east of the basketball court and next to the swings, to an indoor jungle gym at a fast food restaurant. Once community volunteers erected the playground and realized that it dominated the beachscape, one asked if it could be moved elsewhere, possibly closer to the dock at South Bar Lake.

“Why did they pick this strange, bright-colored plastic and put it on public land?” Sorenson wonders. “I have friends who aren’t going to the beach now. It breaks their heart. We didn’t have to take that money just because it was there.”

As for public input, Baja points out that people didn’t seem very interested in the playground during public meetings over the last year and a half. More attention has focused on remodeling the beachscape. The playground was always a separate entity, though the construction for both projects took place in June for logistical reasons.

Naturally, both local and visiting kids are thrilled about their new playpen, and Baja emphasizes that making kids feel more included was one of the goals of the beach renovation.

Jack Gyr, a recent transplant to Empire from Benzie County, feels conflicted between aesthetics and practicality. “The playground and its castle rooftops look like something at the Magic Kingdom, and Disney World belongs in Florida, not here. At the same time, if kids are using and enjoying the playground, we adults should avoid getting too whacked out. Similarly, the walls are too high, but I saw people sitting on them like benches the other day watching the sunset.”

To Weiler, landscape integrity trumps all else. “Of course kids are going to love the playground. This has become like the checkout counter at the grocery store, where they beg for candy even though they don’t need candy. We go to the beach to love the sand and the sky, and the beauty of it all. We don’t need artificial things like that playground. And anybody who has any aesthetic sense would see that.

“What they’ve done ruins the beach. And they did it because they had the money.”

Arguing aesthetics, though, is like arguing over religion, admits David Hendricks, who held an informal gathering in mid-June attended by around 15 people concerned with the beach renovation.

Moving the playground would not conflict with the grant, Baja says, because it was funded with private donations, and would require only a community consensus and funds. But if the meeting on June 26 is any indication, the majority of the Empire public supports the new beachscape, and the playground and walls are here to stay.

The Glen Arbor Sun welcomes letters to the editor concerning the Empire beach controversy. Please email them to editorial@glenarborsun.com.

Posted by editor at 11:26 AM | Comments (0)

Independence Day Events

Sunday, July 1: Pancake Breakfast, Glen Arbor Towship Hall, 8 a.m.-noon.
Northport Community Band Independence Day Concert, at Glen Arbor Athletic Club, 6 p.m.

Wednesday, July 4: Flag Raising at Old Settler’s Park, 10 a.m. Glen Arbor Fourth of July parade, noon downtown (11 am: Parade lineup in Glen Haven Noon: Annual Fourth of July Parade, usually arrives in Glen Arbor at 12:30. Kazoo Corps, line up at the Christian Science Church parking lot around noon.)Second annual boat parade, 4 p.m., Narrows Bridge at Glen Lakes

July 5-8: Cedar Polka Fest, for more information visit www.leelanau.com/cedar/polka.html

photo by Joanne Rettke

Posted by editor at 11:22 AM | Comments (0)

Empire’s Neighborly New Community

By Pat Stinson
Sun contributor

Norm and Cile Plumstead could easily picture themselves sitting on a front porch in Empire’s New Neighborhood and enjoying the pristine view of the forested ridge from lot number three. Prior to 2004, the couple had lived in cities near Lake Michigan with a similar small-town feel, such as Libertyville, Ill. (population 21,000), boasting century-old buildings, and East Grand Rapids (population 10,800), with recreational Reeds Lake as its centerpiece.

“We always knew we wanted to move north,” Norm says. “We were working our way around Lake Michigan.”

When Norm’s job necessitated a move to this area, his online research and reconnaissance trip to Empire (population 400, depending on the season) to “tool around the streets” brought him to the then-fledgling New Neighborhood community. While the couple liked the neighborhood concept, it was the commanding view of that hill in the National Park and proximity to Lake Michigan that helped clinch the sale.

“With a half-mile walk to the lake, it really has it all,” Norm says of his not-quite-three-year-old digs.

The family’s two-story home has a wide, south-facing front porch, just as they imagined, and their view of the neighborhood park across the street is uncluttered by homes or parked cars. Alley access and parking behind the houses mimic the original village design and are two of several Empire features the New Neighborhood developers sought to emulate.

Cile said the setting is perfect for their sons, three-year-old Henry and three-month-old Brody. “We spend a lot of time outside with Henry,” she says of her tricycle-riding, toy truck-playing oldest son.

On Saturday mornings in the summer, the family strolls down sidewalks a couple of blocks to buy fresh veggies at the farmers’ market. Many times, they’ll return downtown in the afternoon for ice cream at Tiffany’s. Evenings typically find them walking in the neighborhood, at a time when other families are doing the same. In another month, when Lake Michigan warms, Norm, Cile and the kids will spend a few hours each weekend along Empire’s sandy shoreline.

“We’ll take an early walk down to the beach with the wagon before the crowds get going,” Norm says.

On a Friday night, after an exhausting workweek, they sometimes head to the Friendly Tavern or the Village Inn for pizza.

Cile says living close to a large city like Chicago had certain advantages — such as more dining choices — but that it’s a worthwhile tradeoff. “When we do go out, we see people we know,” she explains.

Meeting and enjoying the company of neighbors is another aspect of small-town living the Plumsteads appreciate about Empire.

“We know just about all of our neighbors,” Norm says. Good friends with a young child live down the street. In fact, while sitting on their front porch describing their lifestyle, a couple of familiar faces — Jennifer and Chris — walked by, pushing a stroller, and Norm exchanged greetings with them.

“We had ‘game night’ last night,” Norm continues. “Next-door neighbors and other Empire residents walked over and back home.”

A “pretty casual” neighborhood street party is held annually but, in the meantime, residents sometimes dine at each others’ homes, and dogs greet each other on early morning walks around the block.

Very early morning is when Norm rises to run on park trails or fire roads before driving 12 miles to work at Honor State Bank.

“It’s great because we’re right in the middle of the (National) Park,” Norm says.

Both Norm and Cile enjoy running in marathons, and Cile plans to participate in an event held during Cherry Festival. Still on maternity leave from her part-time job at a Traverse City cardiology office, she says the half-hour commute isn’t a big deal when, in their experience, it was nothing to have an hour’s commute to Chicago from their Libertyville home.

Though the couple finds that they don’t sit on their front porch as much as they would like, (with two young sons to raise), as Norm says, smiling and glancing at Henry with his toy trucks, “There will be plenty of time for that later.”

For more information about the New Neighborhood, visit www.newneighborhoodempire.com or call Stapleton Realty at 231-326-4000.

Posted by editor at 11:19 AM | Comments (0)

Puppets airborne, and hands in the soil, at Little Artshram summer camp

By Corin Blust
Sun contributor

The first thing that strikes me about the Community Garden in Traverse City is the creative ways that people have outfitted their respective garden plots. There are trellises made out of hula hoop-like wire structures, a lovely bean support made out of poles scavenged from the forest and an impressive variety of different vegetable and flower bed shapes and mulching styles. There are also loads of healthy-looking plants tended by members of our community.

It is inspiring to see such enthusiasm for gardening. In an era when it is normal for us to eat fast- or frozen food on a regular basis, it’s easy to forget that the carefully packaged items we put in our shopping carts did not just fall from the sky. Knowledge of the impact our food has on the earth is more important than ever.

Penny Krebiehl, an area resident since 2000, is trying to spread community awareness of the footprints we leave on the earth through the Little Artshram Summer Art-Farm Camp for children in first through sixth grades. The program rents five garden spaces at the Community Garden and implements the Permaculture practice of careful observation of natural patterns, cycles and diversity. It is held in partnership with the Art Center of Traverse City, which sends over visiting artists to make art with the children as well.

Penny’s children examine their connection to the earth through the creation of art prompted by the basic concepts of food, water, shelter, and community During their week at the Art Farm, they get to paint and draw nature outdoors, make puppets, write and perform their own puppet show and sing and dance, all while tending and learning about the plants that live in the Art-Farm gardens.

The Permaculture principles for agriculture are important ideas, especially for young minds that are just beginning to examine their place on this earth. The concepts include catching and storing energy from the earth, producing no waste, integration rather than segregation, implementation of small and slow solutions rather than large and fast ones, creative use and response to change and placing value on the margins.

These concepts are evident all over the program. For the basic garden need of irrigation, Penny and her assistants have a modified rickshaw-like cart that they use to haul water from a nearby stream rather than using a well. They also collect rainwater in rain barrels scattered throughout the garden, and will soon have a water-catching system off the roof of the Art-Farm barn. A composting toilet is also on their wish list.

One of the most refreshing things about Penny’s approach to gardening is her creativity. She ran a community art center for children in Lansing for several years prior to moving to Leelanau County.

There, Penny “really liked the community element of people being able to walk, bike and come to the art space without driving their cars. It was more localized.” Unfortunately, at the Art Farm in Traverse City, “the approach is a little different because we are outside and we have to drive to get here, but I think it’s a really valuable experience for the children to learn to adapt to their environment and make art even though they aren’t indoors in a classroom,” she says.

Penny is known for her amazing ability to organize children’s programs at music festivals such as Dunegrass, Blissfest and Earthworks, as well as her involvement with the Earth Day Parade in Traverse City and her commitment to being a positive force in our community through Little Artshram Farm.

Her large papier-mâché puppets are a beautiful surprise to find floating above a children’s parade at a music festival, and the things she can put together with items that most people would consider garbage are fun to create and play with — even for adults. My favorite so far are her cardboard and coat hanger chicken puppets she taught us to make for the children’s activities at the 2006 Blissfest and Dunegrass festivals.

Andrea Hemphill, one of the teachers-in-training at the Art Farm and a frequent festival volunteer, told me that the best part of working with Penny is the way she shares her knowledge. “We learn a lot in a creative way, and the way we learn things makes us go “Ohh! Yeah!” when we figure it out because it’s a more self- directed learning process. The most important thing we lean is that we can all do it. It’s a big learning process, and it makes us feel really good,” she told me while pulling out invasive Star Thistle from the garden plots.

Penny will hold four sessions of Art-Farm Camp this summer: June 25-29, July 16-20, July 23-27 and August 6-10. To register, contact the ArtCenter in Traverse City at (231) 941-9844. There are also many other fun events being held by Little Artshram Farm throughout this summer and fall. For more information please visit www.littleartshram.org.

Posted by editor at 11:16 AM | Comments (0)

Life Springs Eternal

A few days after a wildland fire scorched several acres of Port Onedia prairie, a quenching rain fell. And from that springs new grass, and the field is once again alive!

Photo by Mike Buhler

Stay tuned in future issues of the Glen Arbor Sun for stories on Dr. Chuck Olson's quest to save historic structures in the Crystal River, how northern Michigan locals are stepping up to help the Guatemalan non-profit Safe Passage in the wake of founder Hanley Denning's passing, and the fallout from the Empire beach controversy.

Posted by editor at 11:08 AM | Comments (0)

Locals living ‘off the grid’

By Ian Vertel
Sun contributor

As our consciousness shifts toward developing more sustainable practices of living with the Earth, rather than simply on the Earth, local northern Michigan residents are answering the call. Jackie Ankerson and her husband Allan Fici on South Lime Lake Road live “off the grid.” They are “half a mile from the main road, and a quarter mile from grid power,” explains Jackie. “Consumers Energy quoted us a price of $10,000 to run electric lines and hook us up — we never actually considered being on the grid.

“Our whole system cost us about $17,000” to deliver independently produced power to our house that is approximately 1,500 square feet she continues. “We know about 15 people locally who live completely ‘off the grid’, happily and quite comfortably.”

Self-sufficient and independent, their home is able to produce its own power from a variety of sources, utilizing the abundance of renewable energy resources that northern Michigan has to offer. “We have a 1,000-watt African Wind Power (AWP) wind generator and 600 watts of photovoltaic panels,” drawing wind and sun energy without polluting,” Jackie continues. “We like the idea of having renewable power without pollution.” Their home also uses gas to run a refrigerator, hot water heater and a gas range. However, they do look forward to a time when “we have an alternative to the propane.” There are also heat pumps for the floor that are powered by electricity produced by renewable sources.

Following the same mentality of living off the local environment, Jackie and Allan found that the wealth of trees in northern Michigan were a renewable resource that could be harvested and used responsibly. “We have a wood stove on the main floor,” she says, and “our floors are maple and beech that we had milled from another piece of property where Consumers Energy was widening its path through the woods for bigger power lines,” after which the environmental couple “had the lumber milled and kiln-dried locally.” But Jackie and Allan also turned to recycled wood products to construct their “green” home. Jackie explains that “a lot of our framing for the house is recycled 4x6 lumber that we purchased through Odom’s [in Traverse City] and cleaned up to use; it had to be de-nailed and the rotten ends cut off. The post and beams are from the property where we built [and] we also have wood from a lumber company that was going out of business, which we used for wainscoting, cupboards, bathroom paneling and trim. Our white cedar siding and shakes are from a friend in Canada who has a small, one-person wood mill. He uses the excess from the logging operations.”

Even though their home could support the addition of a dishwasher, Jackie says that they chose not to include one. There is a clothes washer in their home, but no dryer. She said that “we may have a dryer someday, [but] it would have to be propane.”

Transforming her lifestyle into a more symbiotic relationship with the Earth was not a recent desire of Jackie’s. She explains, “this is something that I have wanted to do since I was in my late teens.” Living in a home like this “helps offset our carbon footprint,” Jackie says. The fact that “we’re responsible for our needs and maintenance of our system,” was another reason that living off the grid was attractive and desirable.

Both Jackie and Allan began the project with the desire to design and build a house from “local materials, when possible. We saw it as an opportunity to fulfill dreams that we have had for a long time. We did a lot of the work ourselves. Both Allan and I have experience with building and building systems. My brother is a licensed builder who worked with us throughout the process. We hired friends who have experience and we were very happy with the whole building experience,” she says. After the initial construction, “it took about two years to build and put in the renewable energy system.”

But the construction of their home required work and time. Jackie says that they began by “educating ourselves to what was available and what our needs were. Installation of the systems was a lot of work; we did not have the most ideal location for solar and putting a wind tower and generator up in the woods — [it] had its challenges.” However, Jackie says that “as far as adjustments to our lifestyle, we really did not have to make any. We ran our sales business out of the house for the first year, running two computers and printers. We really did not have any issues.”

However, their home did have its drawbacks. One such consequence, Jackie says, is that relying on batteries, “eventually someone will have to be responsible for disposing of them when their 70-year life cycle is complete.” Another negative aspect is, “we need to pay attention to our power intake and usage,” she admits, but in doing so, “it has made us more aware of our needs and the weather — when there is wind, when the sun is shining.” On the other hand, the advantages of living off the grid are many. “We have never had a power outage, we are independent, our system generates cleaner sine wave power than we would get being on the grid, with no up and down power spikes, [and] we are taking responsibility for our energy needs.” After the initial installation four years ago, there haven’t been any issues with the system.

In building their sustainable home, the kindness of others was an important factor. “Our close community of friends and family were very supportive. Some people in the community are pretty unaware that it is even possible to be independent and ‘off grid’. For a country as advanced as we portray it to be, it is unfortunate that more people are not educated on the possibilities of cleaner, renewable energy options,” laments Jackie. One concern that she and Allan share is of ordinances for wind generation. “Our township does not have any ordinances for wind generation, [but] it is getting close now,” she says.

Jackie and Allan also encourage others to begin transforming their lifestyles to include more sustainable, balanced practices. People need to simply start somewhere. These beginning, initial steps are crucial to sparking change. “A person could install a grid-inner tie inverter and install photovoltaic panels to start making power. With this type of installation one can enjoy the flexibility of staying with grid power and supplementing their power needs,” she explains.

Ripples begin small, and they grow. But first, the pebble must be cast.

Posted by editor at 11:01 AM | Comments (0)

Remembering a childhood on South Manitou Island

By Nadine Gilmer
Sun contributor

It seems strange and exciting now to think that there is a ghost town on that strip of South Manitou Island that can be see from the beach along Sleeping Bear Bay. What is today a huge, uninhabited part of the National Park was once just anther small town in northern Michigan. Norma Jean Egeler Marmie spent the tender years of her childhood on South Manitou. She recalls, “You really didn’t know you were on an island except you were surrounded by water.”

Photos courtesy of Empire Area Museum

Norma now lives in Traverse City with her husband David Marmie after spending most of her life in Empire. After her early years on South Manitou she logged three years on Beaver Island and then four on the mainland, in Frankfort. She then made the move to her grandpa’s farm (the Golden Valley Ranch on M-72) east of Empire until she graduated high school and left for Flint to receive her practical nursing degree. Norma eventually returned to Empire where she married Martin Egeler and had eight children. She worked as a cook at The Leelanau School for 21 years until her retirement a decade ago.

Her family had lived on South Manitou for generations before her. “It would have been (back to) the 1800s,” says Norma. Her grandfather, John Tobin, manned the lighthouse, and her father was in the Coast Guard and stationed on South Manitou until he was transferred in 1940 to Beaver Island. He left the family for four years to fight in the Pacific theater during the Second World War and returned safely to his family then living in Frankfort.

Norma remembers her seven-year stay on South Manitou with fondness. “We did have a wonderful childhood. I don’t ever remember not being happy,” As a child, she and her two brothers used the island as their personal sandbox. “We had a wonderful time when we were little. We could roam the woods, build tree houses, go to the beach, and we were free to go to the coast guard station. There was lots of fishing and lots of cookouts. We always did things together as one big family.” Her grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins lived there too. Norma explains, “My grandmother ran the post office and the general store, and my grandpa was in the lighthouse. We used to have a lot of fun running up and down those stairs. My aunt was the teacher in the school, and there were probably 20 families there.

“My mother used to say ‘I wish we could go back to those good old days,’ I just remember good times.”

And back then, living on an island wasn’t so different from living on the mainland. Norma recalls, “Back in the ‘30s we didn’t have a heck of a lot,” so they didn’t need much to make up for the difference in wealth across the Manitou Passage. They had a general store for small things and farmers out in the country for meat and eggs. Norma’s mother had a garden, although it was difficult to keep because the soil in the town was so sandy. The town sat right on the sandy beach, so sandy that the townsfolk had to place boardwalks all around. Closer to the center of the island though, was good soil and farmland.

But for products they could not cultivate on the island, once a month the residents would travel to the mainland for groceries. It was a rough hour-and-a-half long journey on the family’s little boat. They would sail to Frankfort where Norma’s aunt and uncle used to live, and sometimes to Traverse City. There was a schoolhouse on the island, where Norma’s aunt taught, but no church, so the only time the family could worship was when they visited the mainland. Living on an island did change the perception of living space and closeness of people. Norma says that the neighbors were closer. “Us kids had a ball; we were always over at someone’s house.”

She also remembers buying candy with her brothers from Bertha Peth’s house. “I was always afraid of her,” admits Norma. Bertha Peth was an older woman who sold candy and cigarettes in her house. There is a legend about Bertha Peth and her son Sam, who was trampled to death by a bull in 1901, which caused the divorce of her and her husband. The play Barta’s Path, by local writer Anne-Marie Oomen, is based on her story. There is also a legend that a ship nearly full of cholera-stricken passengers stopped to unload on South Manitou and the healthy sailors buried the cholera victims in a mass grave. The screams of the passengers buried alive is still heard on quiet nights. And let’s not forget the most well known legend: Norma owns many books pertaining to the legend of the Sleeping Bears “It became very special to us,” she says.

Now Norma meets with others who used to live on the Manitou islands once a year in July. The group convenes in Empire where they have a potluck, bring pictures and discuss the good old days and members of their group that have passed away.

As Norma says, “It is very special to say you lived on an island.” And her fond island memories of growing up in the ‘30s and ‘40s are reminders of the beauty and rich history of those two little baby bears swallowed up by the glittering blue of Lake Michigan.

Posted by editor at 10:57 AM | Comments (0)

Music: Balm for the Mind

By Codi Yeager
Sun contributor

Only around 20 people sat in the small, flag-decorated hall at The Leelanau School on June 8. The doors, open to the summer afternoon, ushered in only a tiny breeze, but the small audience focused not on the heat. Their attention was on the young pianists whose muscle-memory fingers whizzed across the keys to release the joy of Mozart, the passion of Bach and the haunting melodies of Chopin. It was the culmination of another year of musical dedication, and from the rookies to the seasoned veterans, the pupils of Yvonne Daly once again earned the mom-baked cookies that waited at the end of their performance.

Many of the students have been playing for years, and the end-of-the-year program was nothing unusual, whereas others, such as Chloe Gribbin, only began playing this past January. Chloe, who plays the trumpet in the Glen Lake High School Band, has “always liked the piano. It looked so fun to do, and it’s a lot more relaxing than the trumpet,” she says.

Playing musical instruments in general, and especially the piano, “takes stress away,” explains Yvonne, a longtime piano instructor, “it’s a change in pace after a busy day; a departure from the job or school that lets you get out of that world and have time to yourself.”

After working on a piece of music for a time, there is a period of pure release when “you have it figured out and it all goes smoothly. You can play it easily because you’re just playing it for fun,” says Maura Niemisto, a student of Yvonne’s for 11 years.

This is the feeling that the teacher encourages her students to strive for, when “they can enjoy it instead of making it a labor.” Yvonne’s ‘playing for fun’ approach to piano lets her do what she loves, which is “helping young people discover the emotional and musical side of the music. It’s fun to see everyone grow musically because everyone develops differently,” she says.

Yet piano does more than offer a refuge from daily troubles: it exercises both the mind and body in ways that aren’t accomplished by any other pursuit. Yvonne says that there is a “section of the brain that gets developed that doesn’t otherwise. It’s been shown to help in math and science.” Many of her former students have gone into technical fields such as engineering, and one even attended Harvard Medical School and is now a cardiologist.

Dane Hillard, whose last performance as Yvonne’s student was the program at Leelanau School in early June, will follow this path when he attends the University of Michigan this fall to major in Computer Science. Dane’s musical experiences are vast, as he also plays guitar, saxophone, bass and drums, but “piano is the basis of everything,” he says. Though he is not pursuing a career in music, Dane says he plans on “definitely continuing piano just for fun. The things I’m into, like math and science — they’re all in the same part of the brain as piano. If you do one, it helps the others.”

Playing the piano uses hands, muscles, eyes, ears, everything all together in a way that the body doesn’t do on its own, and, as another student, Stephen Wurst, explains, it is truly a “workout for the mind,” albeit, an enjoyable workout that is made even more enjoyable when taught by Yvonne.

“She’s a good teacher, she’s funny, she’s got quite the personality,” says Chloe. Noted for her sense of humor and interesting stories, Yvonne herself began playing at the age of five. Taught by her mother, who was a concert pianist, she went on to attend the American Conservatory in her hometown of Chicago, and then Northwestern University for music. Her family had been coming to Glen Lake “since before I was born,” Yvonne remembers. “It started when my uncle got hay fever and the doctor told him to head north. He went to Little Traverse Lake at first, but then they heard about Glen Lake and took the horse and wagon over and fell in love with the place.” After that, they came up every summer and “my mother bought the land I’m on now.”

Later, her music would take Yvonne to the Venezuelan city of Maracaibo, where she taught piano and music theory at a newly formed music academy. “I was the only American and the only woman,” she remembers, and was in charge of “two choirs: a children’s choir of 40 voices and an adult choir of 40 voices.” During her three-year stay, Yvonne took part in a trio on a radio program called Leche Polvo (“powdered milk” in English) and also met her husband. She was married in Traverse City and then moved to Pittsburgh and taught piano to about 40 students there. After the death of her husband, Yvonne says she, “decided to move back to Glen Lake, teach whoever was around, and spend the rest of my life here.”

She has done just that, sharing her talent with those who wish to learn and continuing her legacy of music. Most of the students she now teaches perform once or twice a year in the Leelanau School hall, happy to play a piece or two for family and friends, while others perform and play simply for “the sheer enjoyment of being able to do it,” says Yvonne. The wonderful part is that piano is there for everyone, no matter how old or young, and it is a skill that can provide pleasure for a lifetime.

Posted by editor at 10:54 AM | Comments (0)

It Can Change Your Heart

By Holly Wren Spaulding
Sun contributor

“I never notice flowers,” says Ted. He’s a composer, a musician, and I’m a little baffled by this. “Don’t all artists pay attention to such things.”

I had cut what I could from the droughty garden — the last of the white peonies, some margarita daisies, flowering mint, violets. I hold the black clay vase up to his face, “that’s lemon balm — rub the leaves — can you smell it?” Ted brightens, “I should have more flowers in my life.”

***

Five of us take canoes onto Eagle Lake after dinner. For the first time all day the wind has dropped and the paddling is easy, the beginners are starting to get it. We ramble down toward the neighboring lake, under a wooden bridge, out into the open where we stop, all of us, and listen to the water lapping against the boats.

Tina, a poet from Brooklyn, wonders why she doesn’t find a way to be near water more often. Every morning lately she has been sitting at the end of the dock, watching what happens there: the successions of insects, water lilies opening, loons. She has loaned me a book of poems by Jack Gilbert and I take a chair in the sun on one far end of the old porch. I open to a poem called ‘Burning (Andante Non Troppo)’: “The grand Italian churches are / covered with detail which is visible at the pace / people walk by. The great modern buildings are / blank because there is no time to see from the car. / A thousand years ago when they built the gardens / of Kyoto, the stones were set in the streams askew. / Whoever went quickly would fall in. When we slow, / the garden can choose what we notice. Can change / our heart.”

***

It’s been cool since Wednesday but there is the promise of summer. Especially after several rainy days, things are growing, opening. In the garden peas climb the woven scaffold and will blossom. We have been eating kale, mustards and lettuces every night despite the voles in the garden.

The lake is getting noisier. Already at nine in the morning, a jet ski breaks the silence. Loons are particular about their habitat and move north as humans move in. This lake still hosts at least several of these fascinating birds but their distress call — a quavering tremolo as if from the other side of life — makes me wonder how long they will put up with us.

***

Allen is grating sweet potato for a casserole over the stainless steel island. While setting the table, Laurie finds two beach nut hulls that someone brought back from a hike and takes them to him. “Look, this is what I meant when I told you about beech nuts,” she says. “Well, where’s the nut?” asks Allen, “I can’t do anything with these.” Laurie is quiet, the brown, bristled shapes opening like lotuses in her hand.

***

It’s Sunday morning and we linger over breakfast. My oatmeal grows cold as I lean in to hear Valerie talk about what she’s been noticing in cities — people laid off or pushed out by property taxes until the whole place empties and then the developers retake the avenues, give them new names, put up condominiums. She saw it happen in Baltimore and now in Harlem. I tell her about Detroit where 2 million people once lived and worked and listened to music. Now it’s a city of 900,000 and there are not enough funds to keep the city running properly. Houses are being abandoned, foreclosed, burned down for insurance money. It portends a gutting of communities on a scale that is heretofore unseen. People are losing each other, and where they are from is vanishing. How can we have relationships to a place and bonds that move us to defend them when we keep on moving? Valerie is philosophical though. She knows what it means to have one’s homelands trespassed, stolen, renamed and reinvented.

Much of Valerie’s art tells the story of how this has happened on the African continent. She says, “Even in places where there is a lot of concrete, I see trees and native vegetation.” She says this in all seriousness, and not because she is a denier. A long-lived artist, she is a seer. “This moment is just a moment in time.” She tells us about returning to a little house in the Caribbean and needing to cut her way to the door with her machete after being gone for only a few weeks. She’s trying to soothe us — the younger ones at the table — because she has heard us despairing at the rate at which our culture is bent on subduing the natural. How our culture is responsible for so much displacement.

Not far from where we are sitting is a massive boulder, a glacial erratic. It was deposited here ten to twenty thousand years ago when the ice came down from nearby Blue Mountain. It persists in the humus beside the old stables, which lean crooked and cobwebby, with their old shingles, weathered boards. We’d be kidding ourselves to imagine that what we create will last for very long.

***

Tina says she has never seen a sky so dark, a sky with so many stars. Philipp guides my hand to the focus knob on the telescope, and adjusting it, I can see Venus and its moons. Even in the chill, despite the mosquitoes, we stand a long time looking, and none of us say anything for a while.

Posted by editor at 10:52 AM | Comments (0)

Family-owned Maple Disposal puts customers’ needs first

By Pat Stinson
Sun contributor

With one truck and a goal of giving nothing but the best possible service and price, Dave Barron bought Cedar Disposal from Waste Management in the spring of 2002. The solid waste collection corporation, headquartered in Texas, had acquired the company from original owners “Art and Mike” when the pair decided to retire.

Now in its fifth year, Dave’s company, which he renamed “Maple Disposal,” is the only Ma-and-Pa operation still servicing the area, according to its owner.

“We had and still have a lot of growth,” Dave says. “We’ve added routes, people and trucks.”

He credits his ability to compete against three other major waste hauling operations with his family-owned business priorities: service first, employees second and profit third.

A heavy equipment operator by trade, Dave pushed and packed trash and worked in other capacities for 24 years, 19 of those with Glen’s Landfill on M-72. When Waste Management bought Glen’s, Dave said it was time to “fly or die,” and he made the decision to try the trash hauling business. Being able to look at the big picture and plan for the future were two things he felt were absolutely necessary for success. He said he is not in favor of “the corporate mentality of chasing money at all costs.”

“Thinking purely on price … you can’t do that,” Dave says. “Trucks wear out, costs go up. I have a formula I have to follow; you fail, if you don’t. You can’t be competitive if you don’t plan ahead and manage dollars.

Dave says residents who call Maple Disposal become the company’s top priority, and he never wants the company to get so big that it loses a one-on-one connection with its customers.

For a small company, Maple Disposal’s flexible service plans give residential customers a huge array of choices: two rental tote sizes or budget tag service for individual bags of garbage; weekly, every-other-week or monthly pick-up service; seasonal service; and special pick-ups on non-compactable items, (furniture, tires, large metal objects, etc.).

“I try to be fair with my customers,” he says. “We’re not the cheapest, but we’re certainly not the most expensive.”

To keep capital costs down, he partners with a friend in Grand Rapids — a third-generation garbage man — who has connections for used rigs. Dave’s ace mechanic can build a much less expensive truck by combining a cab from Michigan with a chassis from Washington State.

His commitment to top customer service at reasonable prices meant he had to turn down “tons of business” in Traverse City the first few years.

“I didn’t allow myself to cover too much area,” Dave says. “When gas prices went to $3.20 a gallon, a lot of haulers went out of business.”

His Leelanau County service area has expanded, however, to include the west side of Grand Traverse County and that portion of Benzie County north of Cinder Road. Though Frankfort and Old Mission Peninsula have called, he said he currently can’t service those areas properly.

It’s a matter of priorities … and Dave’s second priority is his employees. He says his staff of 13, (four office personnel plus eight truck drivers and one full-time mechanic), is “exceptional.” All are local people. The labor-intensive waste disposal business needs dependable employees, so Dave’s original “flight” plan included hiring key staff. To that end, he offered employment with good pay and benefits — Blue Cross/Blue Shield, a 401(k) plan, Christmas bonuses — to people with whom he had previously worked.

“I have one word for this business … effort,” he says.

He works five to six days per week, 12 hours per day, (as he has since 2002), and “flies down the road” with his laptop. Wife Amy does the all-important billings. When customer dollars come through the door, the money is spent locally, whenever possible. The black garbage totes are made in Michigan, as are the big, red roll-offs. Huge commercial cans are purchased from a family-owned business in the Thumb area. Supplies come from Buntings Market in Cedar or the Short Stop in Maple City. Fuel is supplied by Lawson Oil.

“It comes back in spades,” Dave says of his company’s local purchasing habits.

Dave is also active with the Leelanau County Solid Waste Council, which meets the first Tuesday of every month, and is currently the chair pro tem. (Counties are required to have at least two or three disposal company representatives on the board or council, Dave says.)

When Waste Management could no longer provide recycling services for Leelanau at rates the county could afford, Dave’s company bought the trucks, picked up the cans and began making runs to WM’s processing center. By the next year, Maple Disposal had its own transfer station and collected all of the recycling at the county’s seven drop-off sites. Since 2006, Maple Disposal has also furnished recycling services to Benzie’s seven sites.

“We were asked to improve the program and reduce costs, and we did both,” he says. “We reduced Leelanau County’s processing costs by $10 per ton. We keep finding ways to reduce costs and pass it along,” he says. “I’ve got a huge investment, and I try to maintain it,” Dave says. “I’m happy to make a smaller amount and do it for a long time.”

For information about Maple Disposal call 231-228-7274 or 22TRASH.

Posted by editor at 10:49 AM | Comments (0)

Glen Lake Garden Club takes “A Step Back in Time”

Press release

On a sunny and breezy afternoon, Tuesday, June 19, members of the Glen Lake Garden Club and their guests celebrated the completion of the club’s 30th year at an afternoon picnic at the historic D.H. Day Farm. Owners Don and Annette Lewis, graciously opened their beautiful farm for the Garden Club’s event to the delight of all those who attended. Nearly 100 people came to enjoy an old-fashioned picnic under a white tent where they enjoyed raspberry lemonade and iced tea and a delicious box lunch.

The guests were treated to a horse drawn wagon ride around the farm and a 1929 Packard graced the grounds. Some of the ladies dressed in the period of “days gone by” and many wore big hats adding to the overall experience from the past.

Don Lewis gave a highly interesting presentation about the farm’s past and recent history.

George Weeks, local author and columnist, who is currently working on a book about D. H. Day, shared additional information about the Day family.

Posted by editor at 10:45 AM | Comments (0)

T.R.A.M.P.S. aloft in Empire

By Mike Buhler

The Traverse Area Model Pilots Society took to flight at the Empire Airport last Saturday, with hundreds of model airplanes, and several hundred participants and spectators from across the Great Lakes region. Doug Sattler (below) is typical of the members, a ten-year enthusiast from Traverse City with 19 airplanes. Asked about when #20 would join the collection, he was cagy. Yet he made one telling remark: "It's an addiction!."

Posted by editor at 10:41 AM | Comments (0)

Remembering Dick Owen

To the Editor:

Summer is here, but someone is missing. Our dear friend — owner of Tiffany’s ice cream parlor, baker of hot cakes and cookies, leader of Empire Days and whatever else needed to be done, resident curmudgeon, and most generous of spirits underneath that tough shell — Dick (aka Rich) Owen is gone. Dick died last fall after a long struggle with illness, and we miss him.

Dick was the guy who made sure that the [Anchor Day] parade was up-to-snuf and that it went the town around twice. One year he even tried to surprise everyone with a high school marching band, but they’re hard to find in the summer. It was often Dick who made sure that the dance on the beach was well-chaperoned so everyone could enjoy it, and that there was plenty of ice cream at Tiffany’s to last the weekend.

One cold, gray winter, he and his friends founded the Green Flash Society. Dick had the National Geographic Society photo to prove that there was such a thing. Plus the t-shirts for anyone who wanted to believe it, even though they might not have seen it.

He was the one who found an upright piano and offered Tiffany’s as a hang out for the high school crowd in the winter when the nights were long and the weather was too cold for the beach.

And he was the one with the sense of humor that was way ahead of most of us. Remember some of the signs in Tiffany's — “if we’re closed, just shove your money under the door” was among my favorites. Or the one about unaccompanied kids will be sold as slaves.

Dick was very special to our family. My mom and dad started renting at Glen Lake in 1975 (my mom, now in her 80s, still goes to Dunn’s Farm every summer where she plays tennis and finds a golf partner several days a week). Empire was one of my parents’ favorite haunts ¬— the library, the Secret Garden, the Friendly, the town beach and Tiffany’s. Every now and then, my dad would have a milkshake and mom a sugar cone, but mostly they loved Dick’s fresh hot cakes. They got to be such good customers that they would call in the morning, let the phone ring three times and then hang up. Dick then knew to save “two powder, one sugar” until they arrived.

One fall when I was up north from Ann Arbor visiting, I went in to see Dick and mentioned that my dad’s birthday was coming up. He decided that we should Fed-Ex the standing doughnut order to him as a birthday present, and we did! We were so proud of ourselves, and my dad loved the package almost as much as when the Fed-Ex truck pulled up in front of his cottage with an order of See’s candies from San Francisco.

Dick was a character with few equals. Remember the town coffee klatch at Tiffany’s that decided each morning when to turn the CLOSED sign to OPEN? One story goes that the restaurant inspector came one day and asked who owned the coffee cups hanging on the rack behind the counter. Dick said, “Heck if I know.” The cups stayed.

My favorite story about Dick also involves coffee — but not the coffee-pot kind. When my husband and I decided to buy land in Empire and build a house, I told Dick that I couldn’t live there without being able to walk over to Tiffany’s for my latte in the morning. I also told him I thought it would be a great idea for him to offer coffee drinks as part of his menu. He vehemently protested that it would ruin his reputation, and I left it at that. But one fall a note from Dick arrived saying, “Coke machine gone; ball is in your court.” He was ready. It took a while to find a tiffany blue cappucino machine, but a year later in the fall I sent him a note saying, “It’s on its way.” I ordered ground espresso beans from Leelanau Coffee Company, even though the woman asked “What would that old grouch want with espresso beans?”

When I got to Tiffany’s the next summer, there “IT” was with a name plaque of the same. When I asked if I could have a latte, he said, “Sure, if you know how to make one. We had a contest here over the winter to see who could make the best cappucino and Phil (Deering) won, but I’m afraid he’s not here to make one for you since he has a grocery store to run.” So off to Deering’s, my daughter and I went to buy milk, took out the espresso package sitting under the counter, and we spent the afternoon making drinks for ourselves and anyone who happened in. Dick sat at the counter drinking his normal coffee, smoking a cigarette, and smiling more than I ever saw him do before or after. We tried to train his employees, but they never quite got the hang of it, and that was the end of lattes at Tiffany’s, though the machine remained.

We would have done it again, but he died too soon. Too soon for the town, too soon for his friends, too soon for all of us.

I loved that guy, and I hope that someday they’ll bring back the one-pin bowling tournament that he and his friends invented to go down Front Street in the gray of spring after the snow melted. Dick got the idea when he looked out one sodden spring day and said, “This place is so quiet you could roll a bowling bowl all the way down Front Street and no one would notice.” Bringing back the event and naming it for Dick is the least we could do for the guy whose spirit helped make Empire the place we love — and still does.

Kathleen Crispell, via email

Posted by editor at 09:05 AM | Comments (0)

June 14, 2007

CSAs: Northern Michigan’s Growing Crop of Farms

By F. Josephine Arrowood
Sun contributor

In the past dozen years, a new crop has been growing in northern Michigan — one whose spirit harks back to ancient growing practices and sense of shared endeavor. In Leelanau County alone, six Community Supported Agriculture farms aim to reconnect small-scale, sustainable production with those who purchase and consume the fruits (and other delicious products) of the grower’s labor. They “offer a path to farm preservation, stability, and profit, at the same time that [they] connect people with their food supply and build community,” according to a regional CSA website hosted by the non-profit Land Information Access Association.

Sweeter Song Farm, in the heart of Leelanau, has been putting these goals into solid practice for the past seven years, but owners Judy Reinhardt and James Schwantes began to create their vision even earlier. In 1991, the St. Louis couple, a school counselor and occupational therapist, moved to the county, and bought the abandoned Witkowski farm in Centerville Township. Judy worked at Leland Public Schools while Jim maintained his therapy practice, and the two began the arduous process of updating the farmhouse (whose rustic charms excluded indoor plumbing), and planning the 80-acre homestead’s future.

“We knew we wanted to farm it, and Jim had read about shareholder-owned farms in Connecticut,” Judy relates, on a warm spring afternoon punctuated by equipment deliveries, finishing paperwork for their long-awaited organic certification, and preparations for the season’s first batch of weekly harvest offerings. She continues, “The two sisters who sold us the farm have become good friends over the years, and they were happy,” to see it continue as a working family farm, with 10 acres under cultivation, 55 acres of protected wetlands, and 15 acres of grassland.

They received valuable advice from Jim Moses and Linda Griggs of Maple City, near-legendary organic farmers, educators and fierce advocates of small-scale, sustainable agriculture (although their farm’s focus is not share-owned CSA, but locally produced, certified organic produce, shiitake mushrooms, and maple syrup that they sell to local restaurants, Oryana Food Co-op, and at area farmers’ markets). Another role model was Meadowlark Farm in Lake Leelanau, owned by Jon and Jenny Tutlis, who began their thriving CSA farm 10 years ago.

Jim and Judy work hard to “walk their talk” of sustainability. Sweeter Song has been going through the rigorous, multi-year process of organic certification, and they anticipate final approval this summer. Judy explains, “It’s very intensive, with three years of records showing crop rotations, where and what organic seeds were bought (we have to keep all the packages), soil amendments — everything!” Although they are closely connected with their customers, who know and participate in their farming practices, Judy and Jim feel that, for them, organic certification provides even more flexibility in marketing their produce and in educating the public.

“We grow everything: plants start in our greenhouse, and we also have a hoop house, which is a covered, non-heated structure that can extend the season at both ends.” Other sustainable practices include water-saving irrigation, planting cover crops such as buckwheat, which return nutrients to the earth, and proactive pest control that includes limited use of organic sprays targeting specific bugs.

“We also pick off a lot of bugs — potato beetles, tomato worms — and we rotate our crops; that’s very important and traditional. We’re not a monoculture — that leaves you open to pests and diseases,” Judy warns. “People who don’t do organic gardening are always astounded by our healthy plants. You have to plant at the right time, get them in the ground before they’re stressed, and keep them watered. We mow an area around our fields,” to fend off grasshoppers, and their chickens participate in the farm’s daily round by eating would-be crop predators. “But they’re out there, just waiting!” she laughs.

A central tenet of CSAs is the shared risk of farmers and customers in bringing good food from field to table, and Judy notes that it’s not right for everyone. Early in the season, new members may feel surprise at the relatively light offerings, such as lettuce, spinach, scallions, radishes and carrots. Soon, summer ushers in a wider abundance of field-fresh offerings, such as strawberries, peas, cukes, squash, tomatoes, peppers, grapes and more — but unlike a farmers market, it’s not pick-and-choose, or as predictable in its scope.

“We encourage people to learn how to put up food easily, like freezing, and we have recipes on our website so they can try out new foods, like kale, turnips or chard,” Judy says. Another advantage of CSA farms is that customers are more personally invested in the outcome. “The best part is coming to Sweeter Song and seeing what’s here,” when customers pick up their harvest, freshly picked on Monday or Thursday for same-day collection.

In addition to Jim and Judy, now retired from their other careers to devote 10 or 12 hours a day to their farm, Sweeter Song thrives with the efforts of a Michigan State University agriculture student employed as a full-time intern, two part-time workers, and eight work-share customers, who trade 60 hours of labor (30 of them upfront, before the first harvest in June), in addition to their share-owning customers who trade $400 for 20 weeks of fresh vegetables, fruit, cut flowers, herbs and eggs, as well as the joys and risks of organic agrarian pursuits. They can also purchase honey, maple syrup, shiitakes, fair trade coffee and pasture-fed beef through Sweeter Song’s arrangements with neighboring farms and suppliers, and the general public can find their eggs at Cedar City Market throughout the year.

Sweeter Song sold out their shares this season, with 140 families and 103 shares. “We were inundated with requests from people who are trying to eat locally,” Judy says. She feels that CSAs have grown in popularity as people have rediscovered the superior taste and quality of fresh produce from their own areas, and she urges interested customers to check out other CSA farms for possible available shares, or to get on their mailing list for 2008 notification and sign-up.

Other CSA farms in the area include Meadowlark Farm in Lake Leelanau; Five Springs Farm near Bear Lake that delivers to Beulah in Benzie County; Big Belly Farm in Empire (on sabbatical this year, but selling their delicious fruit and produce at the Empire Farmers Market each Saturday); Sky View Farm in Maple City (also on sabbatical due to an injury, but look for them in 2008); Eco-Learning Center near Bingham in southeastern Leelanau; and new this year, Black Star Farm in Suttons Bay, already known for their winery, horse boarding, inn and home of Leelanau Cheese. These and other regional farms in Traverse City, Elk Rapids and Old Mission can be found on the website powered by the Land Information Access Association at www.csafarms.org.

For those interested in becoming CSA farmers, check out the quarterly Community Farms Newsletter, available from The Community Farm, 3480 Potter Rd, Bear Lake, MI 49614, or at csafarm@jackpine.net. They plan to offer CSA Mini-schools this fall and winter, organize a biennial statewide conference (next in 2008), and are creating a training manual that can be viewed at the CSA website, as well.

Posted by editor at 11:11 AM | Comments (0)

Looking East for the answers to addiction

By Ian Vertel
Sun contributor

Buddhism is a philosophical theory about the mind. It is a “precise science of the mind,” says David Hendricks — a science of nature, and of consciousness. With this understanding of the nature of the mind, locals Sharon and David Hendricks have applied their Buddhist teachings and philosophy toward healing individuals afflicted by addiction at their facility, Another Path, in Traverse City. But before opening the addiction treatment center, a journey of exploration and learning to Asia was necessary.

Photo courtesy of the Hendricks family

David, Sharon and Will Hendricks (seated in foreground) traveled to India and studied with Tibetan Buddhist Geshe Rinchin (background) on addiction treatment.

Originally, David practiced addiction medicine in Madison, Wisconsin. Coming to the realization that each individual possessed unique reasons for addiction, reasons that could not be broken by generic treatment, he turned to a more “intuitive, developed understanding,” to identify methods and means of treatment for these unique individuals. David saw the problem in a completely Western approach, and sought an alternative method. The solution he found was in Eastern philosophy. His wife Sharon recognized the same need to integrate an intuitive, Eastern understanding into the treatment of addicts. Sharon received a Master’s Degree in social work at the University of Wisconsin, and has been practicing psychotherapy for 20 years.

In 1989, David and Sharon met with the Dalai Lama, who suggested that they incorporate Buddhist teachings into addiction medicine to provide the dimension of intuitive mental evaluation they were seeking. Compelled by the request of His Holiness, David and Sharon began to pursue the development of such a practice.

Interested in learning the ancient Tibetan script necessary to translate sacred texts, David studied at Wisconsin in 1990, and “enrolled as a graduate in Buddhist studies.” He spent five years there, and later became Chairman of the Department of the Wisconsin medical school.

In 2000 the Hendricks family and their children built a home in Empire — retracing the steps to Sharon’s northern Michigan roots. David resigned as Chairman in 2003, and Sharon also resigned from her job in Madison.

Free of their occupations, David, Sharon and their 12-year-old son Will left for India in January, 2004. They had “no grants, no letters of recommendations; we were complete unknowns,” when they arrived in Katmandu, says David. Will had just finished sixth grade when the family began their journey to India. Initially, they toured Southeast Asia, as David had traveled there during the Vietnam War with an economic development organization. Arriving at Dharamsala on March 1, 2004, David, Sharon, Will rented a shepherd’s hut in the mountains. Living a short distance from the Tibetan library and archives, the family attended teachings, and learned from the highly respected Geshe Rinchin.

Sharing their mission about incorporating Eastern philosophy into addiction treatment medicine, Geshe Rinchin suggested that David and Sharon seek out a Tibetan text titled, Mind and That Arisen from Mind or Mind and its Mental Functions, “a core Buddhist text of mental functioning,” explains David, In developing this new methodology of treatment, it became Sharon and David’s duty to translate the sacred text.

Both Sharon and David worked to translate the text, but each took an individualized approach. David says, “Sharon and my minds don’t think alike.” She took a more “general” approach, while David intended to translate the text “precisely”. The information and knowledge it revealed would later have a powerful influence on the formation, structure and practice of the Traverse City addiction treatment center Another Path. But while the text was translated, a “translation is not the same as understanding,” emphasizes David, which meant that the material had to be taught to them. However, the Hendricks family would soon discover that the language barrier was strong, though not impossible to cross. Even if a teacher was found, a student would also need to find a translator.

The Hendricks family’s journey continued, as the Himalayan winds guided their steps. Due to a regulation that requires visitors to leave India every six months, the family arrived in Katmandu, Nepal, where they were delayed because of a “corrupt consulate,” which demanded preposterous monetary compensations. However, their stay at the Varaja Hotel in Katmandu had a hidden purpose unbeknownst to the family: the hotel had its own library for guests. Prevented from leaving for three weeks, the family studied the texts the library offered, accepting the knowledge that would also contribute to the vision of Another Path.

Still seeking a teacher for Mind and That Arisen from Mind, the Hendricks family sought out a Tibetan monk from the Institute of Buddhist Dialects, Gen Gatso. Sharon and David would listen to Gen Gatso, receive his teachings, and then transcribe the text. Once Sharon and David had a complete version of the text that satisfied their spiritual pursuits, translated into English, they each had a copy bound in India.

Traveling once again, Sharon and David journeyed through India and then visited Sri Lanka. While traveling and providing medical care to monks who heard of David’s medical background, David sought to “develop a technique used as a framework to devise a new way of understanding human psychology.”

Seven hundred thousand people die from addictions each year in the United States. If David could connect what he was learning to his work in addiction medicine, thereby improving addiction medicine and treatment, “it could result in the single biggest way to save lives,” he hopes.

One remarkable product of the Hendricks family’s journey was that Will entered manhood during their stay in Asia. He was tempered and hardened by sickness from unclean water and high-altitude exposure. Combined with the teachings he received when he attended sessions with his parents, Will was home schooled, and focused on writing, algebra and science. “Will would spend two or three hours a day playing guitar,” recalls David, as well as receiving an education. He began to “take responsibility for his education,” and learned by studying independently. Growing up in India, “Will is partly Indian.”

After fulfilling their spiritual missions of discovery, exploration, learning and personal healings, the Hendricks family found that the transition back into American life and culture required a large adjustment. However, the vision was clear as to how to integrate Buddhist philosophy into a center of addiction treatment and medicine. Both Sharon and David shared the thought that “if addicts can be made, they can be unmade.”

The product of their journey to Asia and their studies there were to develop “a unified concept about mental health, healing and addiction,” says Sharon. This unified concept would address the fact that addictions result from a severe trauma in adolescence, as “the mind influences the body,” says David. Events in the consciousness are transmitted to the physical brain that carries out order-like objectives. Because the “brain follows orders,” addiction results from such experiences. This is a central component in the approach Another Path undertakes to understand the reasons behind a person’s addiction and then address that addiction to promote healing.

While Sharon and David work to heal individuals with addictions, Another Path must be sought by the individual who has decided that he or she wants, or needs, treatment. The individual must realize that they are the lotus, emerging from the mud that is the chaos, negativity, obstacle and hindrance to healing and growth. But once free of the mud, the lotus blooms, revealing its true nature of spiritual beauty.

Posted by editor at 11:00 AM | Comments (0)

Chef Mario brings gusto Italiano to Homestead resort

By Jacob Wheeler
Sun editor

Mario Deruda has a food motto: “keep it fresh, keep it simple.” That blends well with the cuisine at America’s Freshwater Resort, where Chef Mario arrived in mid-May after The Homestead resort hired the native of the Italian island of Sardinia as its executive chef. “I’ll be making traditional central Italian dishes to fit the lifestyles of the people on vacation here, with food that’s not too heavy,” says Mario in his delightfully thick Mediterranean accent. “I’ll use as much fish as I can get. My sauces are very light, so the meat retains its flavor. Everything must complement the main flavors of the meal.”

Ask the Chef about his favorite food, and he’ll answer with a melodious ode to pasta: “I’m very proud of my risotto, as well as fresh gnocchi, ravioli and fettucini, which I combine with a variety of traditional Italian sauces.” Chef Mario sank his teeth into the culinary arts 35 years ago, following in the footsteps of his older brother, whose trips to cook at famous and wealthy locales around Europe made him jealous. Mario trained at the world-renowned Peck restaurant in Milan, and came to the United States after being recruited to work at Alfredo in the Italian pavilion at Disney’s Epcot Center in Orlando.

New York became home for 15 years, where Chef Mario worked at Tre Scalini, Cipriani, F.illi Ponte and Mazzei. Twice he was awarded the high distinction of being invited to demonstrate authentic Italian cuisine at the James Beard House, which showcases culinary artists from around the world. As his reputation skyrocketed and he was recognized as being one of the Big Apple’s top chefs, the rich and (in) famous sought out Chef Mario. Leona Helmsley, the notorious tax dodger reputed to be a “boss from hell” claimed regional Italian cuisine as her favorite, and hired him as her personal chef before she went to prison. “Helmsley loved the fresh pastas and fish, especially salt-encrusted sea bass. She could eat an entire fish by herself,” Mario remembers. His personal experience with her? “I’m sure there are many people in this world worse than her. I never had any problem with her.”

Once the time came to find a quieter home, “Michigan presented itself as a good future spot.” Chef Mario and his wife Laurel moved to Grand Rapids, where he worked as the Executive Chef at Tre Cugini and Noto’s Old World Italian Restaurant. One Sunday he opened the newspaper and saw an advertisement looking for a chef of Adriatic cuisine at Nonna’s restaurant at The Homestead. Just a few weeks ago Mario moved into the resort’s central village, within steps of Nonna’s, “so I don’t get lost,” while Laurel and their eight-year-old daughter Marina (with whom he tries to speak Italian, though she always replies in English) remain downstate.

Nonna’s is open Thursdays through Tuesdays from 6-10 p.m. throughout the summer. For reservations call 334.5150. And its food is now bellissimo!

Posted by editor at 10:57 AM | Comments (0)

"Something there is that doesn't love a wall" — Robert Frost

The new beachscape at the Empire waterfront. Will the wall block the lake view from the parking lot?

Photo by Norm Wheeler

Stay tuned for coverage in future issues of the Glen Arbor Sun.

Also to come, later this summer, we'll chronicle the fight to protect historic objects in the Crystal River; we'll learn about more locals doing innovative things to reduce their environmental footprint; we'll stroll through the history of the annual Picnic at Old Settler's Park, and keep you updated on all concerts, art openings and events related to Fourth of July weekend in southern Leelanau County.

Posted by editor at 10:46 AM | Comments (0)

“Sunshine” comes to Glen Arbor

By Norm Wheeler
Sun editor

In the 1950s there was a performer who made the rounds of the town and country elementary schools in Oceana County every year. His name was Louie Parsons, he was a big gangly guy with glasses, and his puppet show was the highlight of the year out at Benona School, the consolidated K-8 country school planted in a cow pasture in 1956 where I was in the first kindergarten class. He set up a portable puppet stage with a tiny curtain, he always had an assistant for the extra hands, and the puppets he’d made himself performed classic children’s tales in the lunch/recreation room that had a shuffleboard court blended into the floor tiles. Somehow there was always an apple in the story played by a small red rubber ball (the one you used to play Jax). Every year the ball escaped the clutches of a puppet and bounced into the crowd, accidentally-on-purpose, and the wide-eyed little kid who caught it felt very lucky indeed.

Between the puppet shows Louie played the piano. With hands flying and knees bouncing he played rollicking Fats Waller “stride” piano and sang funny lyrics. Then he turned his back to the piano, faced the crowd, reached his big hands behind him, and played a boogie-woogie — backwards! We kids were anxious for the next puppet show, but you could see on the faces of the teachers that it was amazing, and remembering now how he played piano backwards, I realize it was something astonishing that we just took for granted. When Justice of the Peace Howard Garver closed his barber shop and stopped performing shotgun weddings in downtown Shelby, Louie Parsons moved his puppet show stage into the back room of the storefront and let us kids come in for free on some summer Saturdays to be the audience as he prepared his new shows for another school year. The red apple bounced off the stage, Louie played the piano backwards, and we took it all as given and thought “it is what it is.”

Just as astonishing, and not to be taken for granted, is the amazing line-up of music coming to Glen Arbor this summer for the Manitou Music Festival. The result of a collaboration between the Glen Arbor Art Association, Three Musketeers Productions, Connemara Concerts and The Leelanau School, and sponsored in part by Art’s Tavern, Cherry Republic, Anderson’s Market, Traverse City State Bank and the Glen Arbor-Sleeping Bear Chamber of Commerce, 14 shows will fill the town with music between the Summer Solstice and Labor Day. Several shows will happen at the newly renovated Studio Stage behind the Lake Street Studios (across from Cherry Republic) in the “live” center of Glen Arbor. Included on the festival are the annual free Dune Climb concert, a Northport Community Band concert (on the lawn next to the Glen Arbor Athletic Club), an Art’s Collage concert, and a series of top-shelf folk shows, some on the graduation green at The Leelanau School. (See the complete Manitou Music Festival 2007 schedule at www.manitoumusicfestival.com.)

The first concert on June 23 at The Leelanau School is an absolute must-see. Jonathan Edwards will be in town teaching a singing-songwriting workshop all day Saturday before performing on the green at 8 p.m. Saturday night. The cost for the day-long workshop is cheap and is due to the initiative of Patrick Niemisto and Adair Corell, two of the founders of the regional Songwriters in the Round group — local folk musicians who have been performing round-robin shows monthly for 10 years at the Horizon Shine Café in Traverse City.

You will surely remember Jonathan Edward’s 1970s political pop hit “Sunshine”:

“Sunshine go away today, I don’t feel much like dancin’. Some man’s gone, he’s tried to run my life, Don’t know what he’s askin’. Several locals met Jonathan two summers ago at the Hiawatha Music Festival when he wandered into the Niemisto camp and sat around the fire pickin’ for half the night. He is down-to-earth and full of stories from his long career in music, and Jonathan is also brilliant and engaging, with incredible songs and tremendous energy on-stage. Hopefully he’ll arrive early enough to be at the first Beach Bards Bonfire of the season on The Leelanau School Beach on Friday night, June 22 (children’s hour at 8:30, poems, stories and music continue at 10, $1 per being). After the concert Saturday night Jonathan and the singer-songwriters will share music around the bonfire on the beach.

So, this will be a robust season of music in Glen Arbor, and you don’t want to take it for granted and miss something astonishing. Mark your calendars now! Great musicians from all over the country will be in town, and you can reserve tickets by calling the Glen Arbor Art Association at 231-334-6112: How much does it cost? I’ll buy it. The time is all we’ve lost. I’ll try it! Don’t miss it! It is what it is. Sunshine come on back another day. I promise you I’ll be singin’. This old world she’s gonna turn around, brand new bells’ll be ringin’!

Posted by editor at 10:41 AM | Comments (0)

Glen Lake grads open ZeroHour Gaming

By Pat Stinson
Sun contributor

A little more than a year ago, Dustin Sielaff and Jason Lewis, (Glen Lake class of 1998), were just getting their bearings as new business owners on Traverse City’s west side. Fourteen months and a move across town later, the pair has established themselves as the twenty-something, low-key proprietors of ZeroHour Gaming, Traverse City’s premier center for social computer gaming. ZeroHour, defined as the point at which everything ends and everything begins, has become for its customers a place “where reality ends and gaming begins.”

Photo courtesy of Jason Lewis

Relocating from the way-cool but cavernous space at the Horizon Outlet Center to the friendly, local atmosphere of Colonial Square has had certain advantages. Colonial Square, on South Airport Road west of Garfield, is also the home of the Fun Factory, specializing in board and card games, such as Pokemon, Magic: The Gathering, Risk and Monopoly. All manner of game hobbyists weave in and out of the two shops. “It’s been good for business,” Jason said. A few doors west is J&S Hamburg, perfectly situated for gamers’ sometimes hungry forays into the “real” world.

What has enticed ZeroHour’s plugged-in gamers to follow the center to the ether-reaches? It could be the 16 high-end Dell computers, each with 50 of the newest games installed, or the fact that the ‘puters are networked, allowing a gamer to play against others in the room. Or, perhaps, it’s the center’s ultra-fast Internet connection that enables a gamer to join thousands of others across the globe in “real time,” interactive play.

“The difference between playing here and at home is, you can yell at the person here,” Dustin said with a chuckle. “It’s the interaction. You can play right next to the person playing against you.” He added that playing with or against a real person in the room, or online, offers endless possibilities — unlike the “finite” plays offered by computer programs.

Some ZeroHour customers prefer gaming on one of two Xbox 360s — Microsoft’s wireless, high-performance, digital videogame console. Each Xbox allows four people to play a game at the same time, as they lounge in comfortable AK Rockers, (high-back rolling chairs with arms).

The gaming center offers access to popular titles, including: Counterstrike, Battlefield 2, Warcraft III, Unreal Tournament, Command & Conquer 3, Oblivion, DotA … and one video arcade game called “Commando”.

“It’s the hardest game in the store,” Dustin said. “We let people play it for free, (a year ago). For the first month, no one could beat the high score set by the machine.”

The computer games are a mix of FPS or first-person shooters, (the gamer sees through the eyes of the character in a fast-paced shoot-‘em-up meant for solo players and smaller groups); RPG or role-playing games; team-based games, (one-on-one or up to 32 on a side); real-time strategy games like Warcraft III; and MMOs, massively multi-player online games. The MMOs are a tad more costly to play, with a $15 per month average fee in addition to the usual $5 per hour gaming charge. As a member of iGames, a collective of cybercafés, ZeroHour may purchase playing time for MMO games like Titan Quest at less expensive group rates. Gamers who are members can participate in any café-to-café tournaments that ZeroHour decides to host at the center.

If all of this leaves you mystified, chances are you’re over 25, or female, and/or your hobbies range more toward the low-tech or ambulatory type. (The average age of gamers is 16 to 25, and most are male.) If you have a quasi-understanding of the above, you’re probably a baby boomer with a dusty disc or two of Doom or Civilization in your collection. ZeroHour hosts “a couple” of female gamers and has a nice complement of customers “at either end” of the average playing age, according to Dustin. Those under 13, however, aren’t allowed in the store unless accompanied by a parent or guardian, and 12 house rules for gaming are followed, including one about swearing around youngsters. “We’re strict about what kids under 13 can play,” Dustin said. “They must be age appropriate. A majority of our games are rated T, (teen),” he added.

Dustin and Jason, who grew up “like cousins,” were young people, themselves, when their interest in computers and gaming began. Dustin said he was 12 years old when he plugged his first Radio Shack computer into his TV. “It had no memory, and it took me six hours to program it,” he said. “I melted my first real motherboard at age 14 … using tin foil for a jumper. I’ve destroyed many computers since.” When he reached high-school age, Dustin ran a computer system at Glen Lake Schools and even had an office with a phone number and a mailbox. He said he was often called out of the classroom to fix a teacher’s computer.

Jason remembers using “an ancient thing” to play his first games, including Nintendo, when he was much younger. Among his favorites today are Counterstrike, (pitting terrorists against the good guys who work to diffuse bombs and rescue hostages), and the latest version of Civilization, (where the player is ruler and must build an empire that is stronger than those of competing civilizations — through strategy, warring, diplomacy and by other means).

Gamers enjoy solving problems, and many are also sociable players, preferring to game in a group rather than sit at home, alone. As such, the reputation of the gamer as “geek” is almost passé. Though someone always wants to play the older games, Dustin said that games that aren’t played as regularly are put up for sale. Other items for sale through ZeroHour’s website (www.tczerohour.com) include logo wear t-shirts that are anything but geeky.

In addition to gaming, the center offers a connection to the Internet for those without access. An elderly couple renting a cabin came in last spring to check their email. Another person spent three hours making travel plans – obtaining maps, arranging flights and reserving rental cars.

The center has also hosted birthday parties, both private and “public,” (Sundays are best), and has occasionally offered tournaments for randomly-selected games, usually scheduled midweek, as ZeroHour’s busiest times are Friday and Saturday – though any night after 10 p.m. can be busy. The wee hours are also when most of the store’s 10-oz. bottles of Bawls Guarana, a high-octane caffeine drink, are sold.

“I like the atmosphere here,” Jason explained. “I get to hang out with cool people and game regularly. It’s laid back, and I’m my own boss. All in all, it’s a pretty good time.”

“I’d be sitting at home doing the same thing,” Dustin said of his game-playing, work-a-day duties. “This place is great for my social life. I’ve got lots and lots of new friends.” He also added, with a bit of a lament, “But none of them are girls.”

ZeroHour Gaming is located at 1045 S. Airport Rd, 933-6001, www.tczerohour.com

Posted by editor at 10:31 AM | Comments (0)

LOST in Leelanau

By Pat Stinson
Sun contributor

It was just over a year ago, on one of those warm spring days when the sun had heated the earth sufficiently to release smells of freshly-plowed dirt and flowering trees. The scents drifted past my nose on a warm breeze, as dog Lucy and I walked across a short field toward a stand of red pines on our property. Lucy stopped periodically, raising her long Sheltie nose and sniffing the air while she stood in shadows cast by the tall trunks. Wondering what she might be whiffing, I looked toward the forest. A flash of white between rows of conifers caught my eye and startled me. I edged a bit closer and, moving parallel with the trees, spotted a black and white little barrel shape on four spindly white legs slowly picking its way along a path in our woods. When it lifted its head, tiny ears flapping, I saw the unmistakable flat snout and cheeky features of a type of bulldog, though this little guy seemed smaller than others of the breed.

A half dozen questions crowded my thoughts: Was it lost, or did it regularly travel the short distance from a nearby subdivision to visit our woods? Should I leave it alone to find its way home? Should I approach it to check for tags, or follow it? I knew only one thing … Lucy would not be pleased to share my company with a strange dog. I quickly guided her the short distance back to our house and returned as silently as I could, all the while flashing back to a time 40-plus years ago when I had met another of its type quite unexpectedly. I had been outside, minding my own business, when a bulldog had charged me from a neighbor’s yard. The sound and sight of its rushing fury forced me to take refuge in the family car, serendipitously parked in the driveway. I lay on the old Pontiac’s horn as only a mortally-frightened seven year old could.

Today’s dog seemed harmless, at least from a distance. Its black-and-white coloring convinced me it was a variation of the breed — exactly which one, I had no idea. The word “Boxer” came to mind, though I knew the color and height were all wrong. What I presumed was a “he,” (after all – how could anything with “bull” in its name possibly be female?), had left the pines now and was leisurely heading toward the edge of our property. I watched as the little guy entered our crumbling, three-sided horse shelter and plopped himself down for a nap in a pile of leaves. He had obviously done this before. I crept back to the house and fretted over unanswered questions. While relating the story to my partner a little later, I discovered he had seen the dog walking in the pouring rain two days earlier. Lost! I pictured a fragile spinster calling for Fido every morning from her back doorstep.

I immediately went back down the hill to the shelter with a small dish of dog food and a giant tub of water. The interloper was sacked out on his maple-leaf bed. I moved as quietly as I could among the leaves and fallen branches, placed the dish and tub just outside the entrance to the shelter, checked to see if he was wearing a collar, (couldn’t tell), and tiptoed back to the house. I spent an hour online, researching bulldogs and boxers, and finally decided our little guy was a Boston Terrier — larger and more muscular than the toy versions in the web photos and lacking the breed’s usually-erect ears.

What to do with him? This was a Saturday, and I couldn’t place an ad in the newspaper until Monday. I went to work composing and printing FOUND notices for neighbors’ mailboxes and local stores. It was 10:30 p.m. when my printer gasped the last flyer from its tray and midnight before the notices were attached to neighbor’s mailboxes.

The next day, our lost dog was still asleep in his leaves. The forecast was for cold and rainy weather, so I lined Lucy’s pet carrier with a down vest, cut up a garbage bag to keep the carrier dry, and silently (except for crunching leaves and snapping twigs) put the crate next to him. He woke up and growled mightily while I re-filled his water & food dishes. I left him alone for a few hours and went back down at noon; he had eaten all of the food, drank most of the water, and had slipped inside the pet carrier where I could hear him lightly snoring. I refilled the food dish and tip-toed back up the hill to the house.

My new friend, who I nicknamed “Grumpy,” wasn't wearing any tags, and I had a decision to make. The weather was going to be even colder the next couple of nights. I knew I couldn't bring him up to the house, he was just too scared, and my Sheltie's high-strung temperament wouldn’t help. I didn't want to call Animal Control to take him to the Humane Society, because I wasn’t sure how long they'd keep him. As an older doggy with what appeared to be cataracts, one red eye, and an apparent hearing problem, Grumpy just didn’t seem like anyone’s second or even third adoption choice.

I called Leelanau County Animal Control anyway, told them about Grumps, and decided that I would run a free ad in the local paper for four days. During that time, plenty of folks, all women, called on their lost doggies — but none of them was Grumpy's owner.

The days got warmer, and Grumpy spent them laying in the sunshine, getting up only to pee or to eat. Then, one day I went down the hill with a big dog treat and left it on the ground a little further than usual from his shelter. I waited a few feet away. He started walking toward the treat, and I backed up slowly while he came within six feet of me, grabbed the biscuit, and took it back down the hill to his leaf pile. Later in the day, I took another treat down and clapped & whistled at him. He walked up to me, gingerly took the treat from my hand, and continued right on past me up the hill to devour it.

He was getting a little less Grumpy.

That night, about 8:30, I went down to check on him — he was gone! No Grumpy anywhere. I combed the forest — nothing. The neighbor's 80 acres is a dangerous place. Besides frequent coyote visits, the land is full of coyote traps. I roamed the empty fields.

I went to bed that night feeling disgusted with myself. I should have asked Animal Control to take Grumpy to the Humane Society, where he'd at least have a warm bed and where, if the end were going to come, if would do so quickly and painlessly.

In the early morning, I decided to rub salt in the ol’ wound and check to see if he had returned. There he was, curled up tightly as he could be, inside the pet carrier. I knew what I had to do. I called Animal Control, explained where Grumpy could be found, and the kind officer told me that he would only pick up Grumpy if I first closed the pet carrier door. Now that Grumps' strength had returned, and he was free to wander, there wasn't any guarantee he'd be here when Animal Control arrived. So, I walked as quietly as I could back down the hill, sneaked up behind the carrier, and with my traitor heart pounding so loudly I was sure it would wake him, closed the door on my little buddy. He woke with a start — growling and snarling and lunging at the carrier door. Animal Control came soon after and took him away.

Posted by editor at 10:28 AM | Comments (0)

Center Gallery opens with clay-based art

from staff reports

Pottery has returned to the Lake Street Studios after a hiatus of half a decade. And for the first time, ever, it is on display at the Center Gallery in Glen Arbor. Thirty-two-year-old Matthew McGovern, a native of Vermont who has also lived in Maine, California, Wisconsin and South Africa, and just completed his MFA in three-dimensional art at Bowling Green State, arrived for the first time in northern Michigan for his opening at the Center Gallery on Friday, June 8, and he hopes to stick around until the weather turns sour or, he jokes, until silversmith Ben Bricker chases him out with a machete. McGovern’s pottery will be on display at the Center Gallery until June 28.

Photo by Joanne Rettke

“My work is all based around the idea of it having a context outside of the cabinet,” Matthew explains, “Allowing it to function in way that’s synonymous with a painting, or also on a utilitarian level.” His work displayed in the Center Gallery includes teapots and cups, vases and whiskey boxes.

“We talk about what a handmade teapot means to you and me if we sat down with it. Not so much aesthetics but how you spend time the thing. Objects pick up baggage based on the experiences that happen around us … that’s what really interests me … how we build a relationship with the object through experiences, and how we allow that object into the moments of our lives. The tea shared between you and your father as you told him you were getting married, for instance.”

Posted by editor at 10:25 AM | Comments (0)

A Rose by any other name

By Helen Westie
Sun contributor

Kay and Tom Rose are two extraordinary Empire citizens … well, as all know … they are an integral part of the town’s activities. Both Kay and Tom are devoted, indefatigable workers for their favorite organizations: Tom for the Empire Lions Club and Kay for the Leelanau County Democratic Party.

Photo by Mimi Wheeler

Kay is concerned with politics and issues. She writes letters to politicians and newspapers, notably to the Traverse City Record-Eagle and the Leelanau Enterprise on matters that concern her. When asked about her hopes for our nation’s political future, she replied, “I have days when I find it hard to stay positive, with the mess in Iraq still going on, and so many other problems, it seems we never hear any good news. Still, I have faith in mankind, and I think the world will someday work together for the good of the planet. I have high hopes that with a new leader in 2008, the United States will begin to mend relationships at home and abroad, and begin to go forward in a new, positive direction. Peace, love and understanding are my hopes for the future of the world.” In the past Kay has been the Hospitality Chairperson for all Democratic Party meetings. She is now co-Chairperson for all dinner meetings in the area.

In 2004 the Empire Lions Club elected Tom “Lion of the Year”. He is always helpful at Lions events, and the Asparagus Festival Lions Club Dinner and Wine tasting on May 19 was no exception. Empire’s Johnson Park is leased out to the Lions and Tom takes care of the maintenance and grounds. He collects rent from the families and organizations that hold events there. The Lions Club also owns a large barn under Tom’s guidance that has space rented for automobile storage in the winter. The Lions meet regularly and Tom bartends at these events.

Tom and Kay were married in 1958 and will be celebrating their golden anniversary in October, 2008. They have five children, seven grandchildren and two great-grandsons. Kay worked in the credit office of Grants Department Store downstate in Ypsilanti and later drove the school buss for Van Buren Public Schools in Belleville for 21 years. She was active in Michigan Education Association activities and belonged to a running group called the Belleville Striders. With the help of a friend from this group who now works for Northwest Airlines, which sponsors marathons, she was able to travel to Malaysia and Prague.

The Ford Motor Company in Ypsilanti employed Tom for 30 years. Tom’s roots go way back to Empire. His grandfather, Dr. Delbert Rose, practiced medicine in Empire years ago in an office on Front Street. Tom was born in the Frankfort Hospital and lived in Empire until he was three years old.

Tom and Kay purchased a house on Aylsworth Street in the 1960’s from Tom’s aunt who owned it after Dr. Rose and his wife Gail passed on. They came north to Empire for vacations in the summers and winters, and finally moved into an adjacent house.

Kay and Tom’s family is scattered, but they manage to travel downstate to Cincinnati and other parts of the country for visits.

Posted by editor at 10:22 AM | Comments (0)

Glen Arbor to host Girls Night Out

Thursday, June 21 will mark the first Girls Night Out, presented by the Glen Lake Chamber of Commerce. The event, to be held at the Glen Arbor town hall from 6-9 p.m., will showcase area businesses specificaly catering to women. Local women and visitors alike are invited to sample the local fare, and to bring many friends. It is hoped that this will be an annual event to kick off summer.

Photo By Don Miller

Posted by editor at 10:14 AM | Comments (0)

Park volunteers lend a hand

By Jane Greiner
Sun contributor

Eleanor Comings, a retired teacher from Frankfort, is approaching her ten thousandth hour of volunteer work at the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore (the local branch of the National Park Service), a fact that she didn’t readily share. She was more comfortable talking about her work.

“I started because I loved the outdoors,” Eleanor says. Her first assignment as a volunteer was checking trails. She walks a trail every day and reports on problems like trees down or loose dogs, and helps lost people find their way out. In the winter she does the same thing on cross-country skis. The volunteer trail work is organized by the Friends of Sleeping Bear.

In addition Eleanor volunteers at the Philip Hart Visitor Center in Empire and the Maritime Museum in Glen Haven, helps out with the Park’s Artist in Residence program, lends a hand at the annual Port Oneida Fair, assists with the Saturdays at the Lakeshore program, tour guides the senior citizen buses on the scenic drive and occasionally participates in search and rescue operations. Most of these activities fall under the Volunteers In the Park program.

She enjoys all the people she meets in her work as well as the opportunity to be outdoors and learn more about the outdoors.

“I love doing the senior citizen bus tours. It’s a chance to meet many interesting people, including many from foreign countries.”

“One time I had a busload of Russian visitors,” she says. “Only one woman on the whole bus spoke English and she was the interpreter. I would say a few words and the translator would say several long sentences. I never knew what she was saying, but they were all screaming with laughter.”

“It’s been wonderful volunteering for me because I am outdoors and they have me doing so many different jobs.”

Eleanor is just one of more than 800 people who volunteer at the Lakeshore each year, annually donating around 30,000 hours of work to enhance the Park experience for millions of visitors. The Blacksmith Shop, Boat Museum, and Life Saving Station in Glen Haven, for example, are almost completely staffed by volunteers.

Next time you enjoy the Sleeping Bear Dunes, whether on a park trail, at the Visitor Center, camping or attending one of the Park special events, look around you. Many of the people helping out are likely volunteers. And Eleanor may be there with them, quietly lending a hand.

Posted by editor at 10:07 AM | Comments (0)

Travels in the present

By Holly Wren Spaulding
Sun contributor

I took a road trip recently, driving out of Cedar on a hot and humid afternoon, the sort of day that had me wondering why we’d be going anywhere other than the beach. I was traveling with two Irish friends, which is important to this story because often the world looks different when you begin to see it from someone else’s eyes. We packed the car with as many water bottles as we could fill, plugged in the iPod, and set off on our journey.

Ever since I was a little girl I’ve wanted to travel. As my mother tells it, it was not uncommon for me to be found at the fork in the road, attempting to hitchhike out of our little community. I was eight. We lived on 40 acres at the end of a long driveway off Hejhal Road about nine miles from the little town of East Jordan. Neighbors knew that I had an appetite for going other places and I’d be brought along on grocery shopping trips, or even sometimes to their places of work, which did go a small distance in satisfying my wanderlust.

So I’ve always been curious about the world out there. For the last half of my life I’ve been a frequent traveler with experiences accumulated from several dozen countries, and almost every state in the union. My companions are similarly inclined, both of them sharing my own deep desire to know other places and perspectives, and to tell stories about these encounters. Muireann is a documentary filmmaker who often works in the global south and Ramor has just published his first book, the title of which conveys his own unique perspective vis a vis home and the world: Clandestines: The Pirate Journals of an Irish Exile.

Even before we merged onto I-75 in Grayling, we were wilted. As we headed south toward Detroit, we began to speak almost wistful of the Treasure Island we had left behind. With some anxiety, we noted that the lake was at our back as also the good air, and quietude. The previous night we came home late from a cookout and stood in the yard looking at the stars knowing it would be some time before we encountered a proper night sky again.

I think we’d all been looking forward to settling into the rhythm of the road, reflecting on life and it’s questions with the advantage of a little bit of distance. Of course, the journey was meant to underscore a poetic element in my friendship with Muireann and Ramor as well; we’ve shared other odysseys over the past decade or so and because it is no small undertaking to all find ourselves in one place, at the same time, the notion of hitting the road together had the element of being some kind of pilgrimage.

This was the hope and the dream, as it has been the seed of many other road trips in the past. It is an antidote to our provincialism, and I’ve always considered it a sort of “rite of passage,” or at least a necessary experience in the process of growing up.

With all of this in mind, you can see what I am finding it hard to come to grips with what it really means to travel by car these days. Our trip was organized in part around a series of readings that Ramor was doing for the launch of his book. I was on my way to a workshop on nature writing in northern Vermont and had thought it a nice idea to combine our missions. We imagined a sort of Kerouac-ian adventure. In any case, this was a chance for my international guests to see what American looks like beyond the big cities and beyond Leelanau County. We had looked forward to our travels with visions of ourselves gliding down scenic roads, hair blowing in the wind, the conversation meandering into the highways and byways of memory and imagination.

In the late 1960s, Journalist Charles Kuralt did a regular segment for The CBS Evening News with Walter Cronkite called ‘On the Road’ in which he profiled the Americans he met while traveling around the country in a mobile home. In his book about the experience Kuralt wrote “The interstate highway system is a wonderful thing. It makes it possible to go from coast to coast without seeing anything or meeting anybody. If the United States interests you, stay off the interstates.” I realize that this makes me either a very slow learner, or else an indomitable optimist. Mostly I’m just chagrinned to realize that I keep taking off on these endeavors only to discover that it is indeed true, there really is nothing to be gained from being in a car at 75 miles per hour.

A tad more than a decade before Kuralt made this statement, President Eisenhower had signed the National Interstate and Defense Highway Act of 1956. The goal was to connect major population centers for purposes of national defense. Roads were needed to facilitate troop deployment and the movement of military supplies in the event of an emergency. The other thing this accomplished was urban sprawl.

In the 1962 memoir, Travels with Charley, author John Steinbeck remarked on the condition of the country he had traveled up and down, from the east to west: “Everywhere frantic growth, a carcinomatous growth. Bulldozers rolled up green forests and heaped the resulting trash for burning. The torn white lumber from concrete forms was piled beside gray walls. I wonder why progress looks so much like destruction.”

Currently there are over 46,000 miles of interstate highways in the United States. This is easy to take for granted, and yet only a century ago, 93 percent of the country’s roads were unimproved dirt. At that time people used rails or horse-drawn modes of transportation; the first gasoline powered automobile was invented in Germany by Karl Benz in 1885. In 1908, Henry Ford presented his Model T to the public, with the goal of providing personal transport for “the great multitude,” and thereby initiating the Automobile Era. We’ve been driving ever since.

We are filling our tank up at over $3 per gallon and besides the expense, I don’t see how we can keep this up. I’m already feeling crushed, and I mean, to the bottom of my heart, at what this urge to go far fast, is doing to the American landscape.

Sometime during our second day, Muireann remarked “so this is what the war is all about,” sweeping her hand in front of her, indicating the breadth of I-75 as we zoomed toward Cincinnati at 80 miles her hour. A semi passed at that moment, the BP logo obscuring for just a moment, the Jeep factory on our right with it’s display of recreational vehicles painted top to bottom with the stars and stripes. We pressed on, past an oil depot and refinery, past Pilot Travel Centers and malls, past the usual Americana which lately means fast food joints, gas station, and chain motels; the ubiquitous sprawl of our sprawling urge to be able to consume at any given moment without hesitation or impediment.

There is no other way to say this: America is getting downright ugly. Furthermore, each place bears such a resemblance to the next in terms of natural features (they are typically flattened and paved over), architecture (vinyl, massive) and cuisine (if you can call it that). The speed with which we are losing open space is not new news to most of us, but it continues to alarm me. Our road trip was that microcosm of time — just five days — that reminded me that all is not well with the world and Leelanau, with its own flair for ill-considered development, is also a rare refuge.

The trip was not without its good moments, which did seem to coincide with encounters with less damaged landscapes: our drive through upper New York and chance to drink a beer beside Seneca Lake; the curving, green byways of Vermont and their absence of billboards, which allows the eyes to alight on mountain ridges and wild rivers instead of liquor ads.

What I am left thinking about, however, is the auto-centric manner in which this beautiful land of ours is being conquered and divided. I am thinking about how much more fun it is to go places on trains, as I have in Europe. I’m thinking that as a nation at war, we all need to do some serious soul searching with respect to our petroleum use and dependence.

My friends appreciated the lesson in what America looks like to a lot of people — those who commute each day, those who inhabit the burgeoning suburbs and exurbs. But I think we all had our hearts broken, again, by the scale and significance of the asphalted terrain. By the unrelenting lights at night, illuminating car dealerships and parking lots.

I’m looking forward to returning to Leelanau later this summer. In the meanwhile I’m relieved to be installed in a little village in the Northeast Kingdom in Vermont where I can go anywhere I need to go on foot. It seems a reasonable pace at which to see and consider the world.

Posted by editor at 10:04 AM | Comments (0)

Living in Two Worlds

By Steve Goldman
Sun contributor

“Dad? How much longer?”

For what seems like the millionth time, I try to patiently answer the question. “We’re in Cadillac, we’ve got another hour and a half,” or “we’re at M-37, so we’ve got another hour” have become stock answers over the years as I attempt to reassure my kids that the length of the drive won’t kill them.

Surprisingly, though, that question is being asked less and less often in the past couple of years. For, as my kids even have to admit, Up North has become our second home.

When I was their age, my parents brought our family up to Traverse City several times. The first view of the Bay as we approached the city always appeared like magic before me: vivid blues and greens that I never saw anywhere else, the clean, sharp breezes that seemed magical in their ability to cleanse the spirit and the land. My family always seemed more relaxed on vacation in TC, as if a spell had lifted the burdens of our daily routines from our shoulders.

As I got older, though, the trips became fewer and fewer, and several years passed until I got the opportunity again to come Up North. Now in my residency after medical school, I was given the opportunity to help teach at a weekend course at The Homestead. Leelanau County was new to me, since my family trips Up North didn’t extend too far west of Traverse City. As my girlfriend of many years (now my wonderful wife and mother to our two girls) and I explored the area, it was like falling in love all over again. Not just with each other, but with the beauty and peacefulness that surrounded us. Over the next several years we would return for a weekend or two each summer.

Time flew by, and we became parents. Still, Up North gently tugged at us, beckoning us to return again and again. We began to bring our children to visit areas that we had grown to love. They started to ask when they could go Up North to play on the beach or swim in the pool. We explored beaches and woods, and watched beautiful sunsets. Their rock collections grew larger, although, to this day, they mysteriously haven’t found any Petoskey stones to add to their small quarries.

Up North was becoming our refuge. When times were tough, the magic blanket of Up North never failed to renew our faith in ourselves and each other. Finally, we decided to look for property. It was late summer of 2001, and we decided to purchase a small piece of property in our favorite Up North place, Glen Arbor. We secured a loan, and filled out the papers. We were going to finally do it!

Then, the world came crashing down. It was Sept. 11, 2001, and we needed to get our papers mailed. The world was insane that day, and we needed to choose, quickly, before the deal fell through. Like so many others on that day, we chose to live our dream, to look toward the future.

We mailed the papers.

A few months later, we took our children to the lot and showed them our surprise: we would build our own place Up North. I’ll never forget the look of surprise and glee on their faces, or the feeling in my heart as we stood together on the lot where we would build the place of our dreams.

Now, as we commute back and forth from downstate to our place of refuge, I realize that we have chosen to live in two worlds. Hectic schedules, work and school melt away into peaceful times. Traffic jams become figments of our imaginations as we drive down country roads. Old friends beckon us downstate while new friends are made Up North. And music … wonderful folk music that has no home downstate draws us to taverns and decks in warmer weather.

And thankfulness for a place of refuge. We are blessed with two homes, two wonderful communities while halfway around the world tsunamis destroy entire world