Tag Archives: family
Adventure – Day 2
After our event filled first day of camping my friend had to go home. I, on the other hand, headed north. My plan was to explore Michigan’s Eastern Upper Peninsula, this time on my own. (You can click on any photo to see it larger.)
My first stop was the tip of Michigan’s mitten, at the state park that once was a campground. When I was a kid my family camped there, almost under the Mighty Mac, the five mile bridge that spans the Straights of Mackinaw between the Lower and Upper Peninsulas. Whenever I can I try stop there and walk where we once walked and where people walk now days, marveling at the bridge and the water, the ferry boats and the freighters that go by.
I remember us swimming in these waters. Taking the canoe out and paddling beneath the bridge, my dad telling us we had canoed from Lake Huron all the way to Lake Michigan! It was very cool, and I think of it every time I’m up there.
Once I made it across the bridge I started toward my destination at the Tahquamenon Falls State Park. Along the way I passed beautiful beaches, but, turning inland, I also noticed my favorite things, barns….
…and farmland. You know me. I had to stop and catch a few images. No matter where I am, when I see old barns I just have to stop if there’s somewhere safe to park.
Once I got to the park and set up on my large campsite…
…I decided to take a walk. There was a one mile trail down to the lower falls. Sounded like fun and after studying the map I headed out down the trail…
…which got narrower and less obvious. It was getting late and I realized I’d have to maneuver the trail back to the camp after dark. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I scurried back feeling foolish and drove the one mile around the corner to the lower falls.
I still had a nice walk along a beautiful boardwalk back to the falls.
And they were pretty in the late evening light.
I enjoyed this little girl who was talking nonstop to her dad who was listening intently. She was excited about everything. I bet she slept well that night!
And just before I headed back a red canoe showed up for a little fishing. I thought for a bit that there was a sheltie in the boat, but I think it’s a border collie. The boat glowed in the quiet light. Most of us tourists had left and this couple had a quiet evening to enjoy.
I left them to it and headed back to my camp and a good night’s sleep. Right after a hot shower, one of the advantages to camping in state parks!
Lake Superior tomorrow. Stay tuned.
Reminds me of mom
A couple of years ago husband and I were visiting a children’s garden in Ann Arbor. There was an old pail spilling over with lantana. He stopped to admire it, and then asked if we could grow some in our garden. Sure I replied. It’s easy to grow.
And then I forgot all about it.
But this year, as he and I were perusing the local nursery, considering what to put into the pots outside the front door, I saw it again. Lantana in beautiful and cheerful colors.
And I thought of my mom who used to grow it in a small garden out by the driveway of her Alabama home. How it reseeded itself every year, tolerated drought, how deer didn’t eat it. So we bought some.
And now, every time I go in or out of our front door I think of my mom. I think she would have enjoyed the colors and the shapes. The interesting buds that turn into intricate blossoms. They would have made her smile.
They make me smile too.
Nothing left to add this Father’s Day
For days I’ve felt Father’s Day coming. And I’ve tried to conjure up a Father’s Day post, something sweet and reminiscent like I wrote last year. But for some reason I just don’t have anything profound to say. Nor anything less stirring. This year my mind can’t get around the fact that he’s not here.
He should be.
I should be able to give him a call, send him a card, even go for a visit. A couple weeks ago I did an interview and at the end the reporter asked me to send her pictures of me and dad. I realized I didn’t really have any of him and me together, just the two of us. I thought to myself that I should get a few taken next time I was home.
And then I remembered. Again. I have to keep remembering over and over and it’s just as painful each time.
I can’t make any more pictures. Can’t make any more memories. What I have is all there will be. All there will ever be.
I know I’m lucky that I have the vast number of memories and life experiences that our family created over the decades. Some people don’t have any memories at all. But I’m feeling greedy and wish there could be more.
He was a good man, a good provider, a good dad. He was doing the best he could to adjust to the loss of his life partner, my mom, when he was taken from us.
He should still be here.
This Father’s Day seems harder for me than most of the last twelve that our family has managed to get through. I don’t know why. But I know that tomorrow will be better. And I know we were lucky to have had him at all.
Still, I wish he was here today.
Winding through Shakespeare’s woods
Have you ever explored through beautiful woodland in search of Shakespeare? Unless you live in Ann Arbor, maybe not. But if you’re from around here you’re in luck. The University of Michigan is putting on a spectacular production of Love’s Labour’s Lost in the Arboretum below the beautiful peony garden.
You should go. Even if you aren’t sure you love Shakespeare. Because what could be better than to spend a couple of hours wandering in the beautiful trees and flowers of the Arboretum while watching talented people joyously telling a story of love and mistakes and confusion and confirmation?
As the actors headed down into the woods to prepare for the evening performance my Aunt and I wandered the beautiful peony garden.
It was past it’s prime, last weekend would have been perfect, but it was still beautiful, and smelled like heaven must.
Once the show started we followed along eagerly, as we learned that the country’s king had decided to ban women from his court for three years, while he and his noblemen studied. Women are, you know, distractions from serious study.
But had he forgotten that the Princess from France was scheduled for a royal visit? Why yes he had! So she and her noble women would have to stay camped in a field outside the court. She was quite put out. Which was a shame, because the King had a huge crush on her.
And the rest of the women? They and the King’s noblemen had crushes too. So what to do? Meet in secret, write love letters that get hand carried to the wrong people? Pine away in the forest?
All of that and more. And of course don’t forget the visiting Spaniard with his grandiose ideas of love and women who falls for the common milk maid.
It was all there deep in the lush green forest. How does it all end? Does everyone get to live happily ever after? I’m not telling you. You’ll have to go find out for yourself. The play continues Thursdays through Sundays until June 26.
Head out for an adventure. Try something new. Wear bug spray and bring a blanket or a chair to sit on.
You’ll love it. Guaranteed.
Rolling down the river
I’m a water girl – confirmed years ago growing up on a lake. Get me near water, better yet on water and I’m content. So getting the chance Friday morning to canoe part of the Huron River with my aunt was a gift.
The Huron River starts up near me at Indian Springs, a park Katie and I enjoy regularly, and flows all the way to Lake Erie, 130 miles in all. We paddled 8 miles on Friday morning under a bright blue sky. The water was crystal clear, with large brown fish (trout?) darting below our boat, among the intense green of the river grasses.
The current was gentle but persistent, assisting our trip downriver but not so quick that we couldn’t enjoy the lovely views along the way. The banks were often covered in blue forget-me-not flowers, the sunlight falling on them in dappled joy through the new spring green foliage of the trees above.
Mostly the river was smooth and calm, reflecting the sky and trees, shining on the water bugs scurrying away from our silent canoe. Occasionally we rode through some moderate rapids…
…calling on the skill of my aunt, the expert in the stern to pick the best spot to slide by the largest rocks.
The only people we saw were fishermen also enjoying the quiet beauty of the river.
But we saw lots of nature. A blue heron flew across the river in front of us and around a bend, hidden by trees, only to wait for us in the shallows, ignoring us as we passed. Another heron stood proudly on a log, posing as we glided by.
We saw giant snapping turtles laying eggs on sandy banks, mallard ducks preening on a log, and several families of geese enjoying the beautiful sunny day.
We had such a lovely time, I’m grateful for the opportunity to canoe with my aunt on a river she and my dad used paddle as kids. I remember other canoe trips with my folks, and one trip on this river, though a different stretch of it, with my dad. The Huron stretches 140 miles across this part of Michigan, and right through the hearts of my family.
Aren’t I lucky.
Healing doesn’t mean you aren’t grieving anymore
In the beginning you believe the worst possible thing that has just happened to you and your family is the absolute worst possible thing ever. That no family, no person can possibly be grieving as deeply as you are. And time passes and your focus shifts slightly beyond your own searing pain and you see that someone else is hurting too. That others have experienced similar events.
That it’s not all about you.
And that’s the first baby step to healing. That realization that you are not alone, that others have similar stories, similar, though not exact, pain.
I’ve started reading Cheryl Strayed’s “Brave Enough.” I’m not very far into it — barely started in fact — and already this quote of hers makes me stop and reread. And nod in agreement. And read it again. And want to share it with all of you.
“”When you recognize that you will thrive not in spite of your losses and sorrows, but because of them, that you would not have chosen the things that happened in your life, but you are grateful for them, that you will hold the empty bowls eternally in your hands, but you also have the capacity to fill them? The word for that is healing.”
And now, not an hour later, I’m reading a blog written by a woman who has been through trials most of us couldn’t imagine, including the sudden death of her husband a year ago. A line down near the bottom of the post stops me again. And makes me want to share it (and her) with you.
“Emotions don’t get better. We get better at holding them. They don’t get less heavy, we get stronger.”
Both women are right. Out of trials and loss and grief and pain we get stronger. And often we grow in directions we might never have moved without the experiences that left indelible scars on our souls.
I never wanted nor dreamed of the losses that changed our family. But given that’s the way it is, I’m pleased to continue the growth, spawned but not defined, by life events.
Wherever you are in the cycle of life, I hope you can see the light and hope and growth shining ahead of you. If you need a hand up, there are plenty of people willing to take hold. And if you’ve moved into a good place yourself, glance around once in awhile. Someone might be there, just in the shadow, ready to move, but needing a little nudge.
I’ll get off the soapbox now.
WordPress Photo Challenge – Face
Crash dummy survives!
I’d never been a witness to a test crash before. I suppose not many people have. It’s kind of a surreal experience, especially for a person that’s had a loved one die in a violent crash.
My husband and I, along with several other of our truck safety volunteers attended an all day conference at the Insurance Institute for Highway Safety in Charlottesville Virginia on Thursday.
And it wasn’t just us in attendance.
In an unprecedented move truck companies, trailer manufacturers, safety advocates, bicycle and pedestrian representatives, policy makers, and researchers were all together in one room to talk about the problem of truck underride.
Most of you don’t know what truck underride is, and I wish I didn’t have to explain it to you. But because our country is a generation behind Europe you probably haven’t seen a truck sporting a side guard to keep a car from traveling under the trailer in a crash.
Perhaps, if you’ve been in New York City or Boston recently, you’ve seen city trucks with side guards; those two cities have now mandated this safety precaution after several bicyclists and pedestrians were killed by falling beneath the trailers and being crushed by the wheels.
Side and rear underride is a huge problem outside cities too. As you pass a semi out on the freeway, and if it’s safe, glance over and see where the underside of that trailer would hit you if you slid under. Just about the height of your head. And if you slide under your airbags won’t deploy as there would be no impact of the engine and front of your car. The first impact would be the windshield, and that won’t save you.
And don’t think you’re safe if you hit a semi from behind. Many of the rear guards were built to 1953 standards and will collapse if you hit them with any speed. Once again, the only thing between your head and the back of that trailer will be the windshield.
So for years safety advocates, including the Truck Safety Coalition, have been asking the Department of Transportation to require better rear guards, and to start the process to mandate side guards. It’s another one of those no-brainer things that we just can’t seem to get done through normal channels.
Thursday’s conference wasn’t a normal channel. Never before has the industry met with the safety people to discuss making changes that would move ahead of any regulations that might some day come out of the D.O.T. Never before has such candid conversations been held, without animosity, without rancor, with only safety in mind.
It was amazing.
At noon we went into the lab and watched a test crash of a Malibu slamming at 35 mpr into the back of a semi trailer that had been equipped with a new, stronger rear guard. Some of us weren’t sure we wanted to witness such a thing, but we’re all glad we did.
Because in this case the new rear guard held up and the passenger compartment, crash dummy inside, was not penetrated. (You can watch the crash test here.) Everyone inside this particular car would have survived. For many people the test crash was the highlight of the day. But I thought the highlight was later in the program.
During the day we had speakers from New York City and Boston tell us about the processes they went through requiring side guards on trucks within their city limits. We had speakers from government talking about where in the regulatory process we are, speakers from trailer manufacturers talking about stronger rear guards that are ready for market now, from a truck company that has ordered 4,000 of the new, safer rear guards, and from Virginia Tech students who showed us their own new design for a stronger, safer rear guard.
Those students almost made me cry. They were undergraduates, the project assigned to them was to build a better rear guard for a semi truck. They, like most people, had never heard of underride crashes before. They learned about the problem, dreamed up a number of potential solutions, weeded their options down to four, and then figured out which one was the most plausible, most acceptable to both the trucking industry and safety advocates.
And then they built a it.

Virginia Tech student and a Truck Safety Volunteer who has been fighting for side guards since her dad was killed 33 years ago.
Incredibly 18 and 19 year old young people spent a year on this project, realized the importance of their work, and were brave enough to come and speak about it to a group of adults working in the industry. They were excited about their design and proud to show it off. And a room full of jaded adults sat respectfully listening, leaning forward, following along, congratulation the students at the end for a good design, inviting them to join the industry after they graduate. To think that this whole room of people, including the kids, was there to make the roads safer for everyone. Well. That just about made me tear up.
It should make you tear up too.
Because change is happening. It’s happening because we’ve moved past regulations and asked the industry to listen and to do what’s right. And they are responding. Not everyone. And not every request. But some. And some change will lead to more change. And every step we make toward safety saves another life.
Change is hard. But it’s not impossible.
Before and after
I think most people have a date in their past that bisects their own history. The date when everything shifted, the world tilted, life changed. A date that is used as a measuring unit against all events past and future.
For me it’s the year 2004, the year we lost both parents and moved into adulthood with stunning finality. Forever more when I hear a date related to anything, an event, a birthday, a bit of historical trivia I think…”that was before Mom died.” or “Dad had been gone a year by then.” 2004 feels something like a watershed, with all the life experiences prior cataloged as ‘before’ and everything that has happened since labeled ‘after.’
Yesterday my husband and I sat with a family member in waiting areas of two hospitals as her mother struggled to stay alive. We listened to her story, how her mother came to be this ill, what the prognosis was. While we waited we told family stories about relatives long gone, family members today, heard about her kids far away in another state. We laughed a bit, got teary a bit, hugged some. Worried a lot.
I wondered if the day would become her dividing point, the day she would remember as her world tilting, changing, forever different. Thankfully yesterday didn’t turn into that day. And this morning the sun is shining and there are new questions to ask, new decisions to be made.
I sat in waiting rooms yesterday and contemplated how life changes. How change is different for everyone. How I’ll never have to sit in a waiting room making life and death decisions for either of my parents. How I felt slightly guilty to be glad of that. But how I would have been grateful for time with either of them no matter how difficult saying goodbye would have been.
In the past month I’ve had three good friends lose a parent, witnessed three families defining before and after. I guess it’s natural.
But darn, change is hard.













































