Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.


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Entering via Ellis

Ellis Island is waiting for you.

Ellis Island is waiting for you.


The best advice I can give you about visiting Ellis Island is to give yourself a lot of time because there’s so much to see. Take it slow and let all that history sink in. And try to take a ranger guided tour. (Check for times at the information center inside the building.)

Telling us the story.

Telling us the story.

In a short half hour guided tour you’ll get a great base of knowledge which will help you understand all the rest. Our ranger used the story of a sixteen year old girl’s experience as she traveled across the ocean and through the system at Ellis Island.

At the end he reveled that girl was his grandmother. And that his grandfather came across as a young man not too long after and lived only a few blocks away from his grandmother. And the rest, he says, is his family’s history.

People passing through Ellis Island today.

People passing through Ellis Island today.

Did you know that only the third class and steerage passengers had to go through Ellis Island? I didn’t either. First and second class passengers got the run of the ship, and were able to begin their new lives here in America as soon as they arrived. Those who only paid about $300 (in current dollars) for their passage were brought to the island to be inspected.

The luggage was left in the luggage room and they were sent upstairs to wait. As they climbed the stairs they were observed. If they appeared sick people at the top of the stairs marked their coats with chalk. Those people were examined more carefully.

Both the luggage and the passengers had to be inspected.

Both the luggage and the passengers had to be inspected.

The rest waited in benches in a huge and beautiful room.

The Grand Hall waiting area would have been filled with long benches.

The Grand Hall waiting area would have been filled with long benches.

Perhaps they had never seen such a place before, or if they had, as the ranger said, rooms such as this would have been built in castles, not for people like them.

Beautiful floors.

Beautiful floors.

But this was America, where anything was possible. Note the curved tile ceilings and the mosaic floors.

An immigrant could wait for a few hours, or days for their name to be called, but once it was they moved forward to answer the inspector’s questions. They were the same questions the ship company asked; What is your name, Where are you going? Where will you live? How much money do you have? If you answered correctly and passed the eye exam and a cursory physical you were allowed to leave and begin your new life.

Notice the beautiful tiled arches.  And the original fixture.

Notice the beautiful tiled arches. And the original fixture.

If you did not pass, say you forgot the address of the family member taking you in, you were sent to have a hearing. You could bring in witnesses to collaborate your story. Many immigrants had never seen government treat them so fairly. It was one of their first lessons about freedom in America, and ninety-eight percent of those that arrived were eventually allowed into the country.

Still, it was a terrifying experience, to travel in the belly of a ship, arrive in a strange place, listen to strange languages, be told where to sit, be questioned by uniformed strangers. What hope and strength they must have had to travel toward such an uncertain future.

Thousands of people a day.  So many faces.

Thousands of people a day. So many faces.

They told us that forty percent of Americans today can trace a relative through Ellis Island. Forty percent of us owe our lives to someone that took the risk and came to make a better life.

If you’re ever in New York take the time to visit this historic place. Look at the views of Manhattan from the windows of the grand building. Think about what it must have felt like to sit looking across that water at the place you’d dreamed about.

Over there was opportunity.

Over there was opportunity.

And think about all they had left behind; family they’d never see again, familiar homes and towns. Think about what it must have been like to have only a few possessions, a few dollars, to know only a few people here in the new country.

So many.

So many.

Then think about how lucky we are to have been born here. Regardless of your political views, regardless of the stress of an election year, regardless of economic times, this is still the greatest country in the world.

We should take time to appreciate that.

Freedom forever.

Freedom forever.


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The lady

Going to see a lady.

Going to see a lady.


You take a boat over to visit Lady Liberty. If it’s a hot July morning the boat will be filled with hundreds of people, all herded on board like steerage. Which seems appropriate when you think about it. But no one minds too much.

All eyes are on her.

Hey Lady!

Hey Lady!

You pay an extra five dollars to go up inside the pedestal and enjoy the view. It’s worth the money and the 200 or so stairs to enjoy the view and the breeze. Yes, you could use the elevator, but why, when there are stairs to climb just for the taking? Once out on the pedestal walk you have an up close and personal view of Ms. Liberty.

She's huge!

She’s huge!

Or, if you have a zoom lens you can get even closer.

She's ready for her closeup.

She’s ready for her closeup.

Once you go back down the stairs, don’t skip the museum. It’s not large, but it has some interesting details. Like how they built her.

Not an easy task.

Not an easy task.

And full size features of her face and her toes.

Beautiful detail.

Beautiful detail.

Afterward, tour the grounds a bit. Take some more pictures. It’s not an easy angle to get your family member and the Lady in the same shot.

Perfect angle.

Perfect angle.

But it can be done.

Enjoy your Statue of Liberty! She’s there for you.

Imported Photos 01288


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Brooklyn!

I’ve seen first hand that more than one tree grows in Brooklyn. We’re here visiting friends and taking in a bit of city life.

Brooklyn after a storm.

Brooklyn after a storm.

During our first day we visited The New York City Transportation Museum here in Brooklyn. It has old buses and subway cars that kids can climb around and sit in.

Watch out world!  I'm driving the bus!

Watch out world! I’m driving the bus!

Oh yea. Adults can too.

We saw subway cars from as far back as 1912…

The seats had more padding in 1612!

The seats had more padding in 1612!

..up through 1961…

Mid-century modern.

Mid-century modern.

…and today. The today picture I took while riding on the actual subway out to Coney Island and back.

2016...last night.  But the museum had one from 2010 that looked just like this one.

2016…last night. But the museum had one from 2010 that looked just like this one.

After the museum we went for a walk along pretty tree lined streets, admiring the brownstones.

Beautiful old homes.

Beautiful old homes.

It’s fun to imagine what it’s like to live in one. But our friend made a good point. She said it was romantic to think about living in a house that old…but if she was going to spend that much money she’d want her new home to be brand new. These houses sell for millions each. Hard to fathom.

Someone suggested we see Coney Island. So that evening we hopped on a subway and went out to explore. Can’t beat a boardwalk along the Atlantic Ocean in July.

Fun stuff.

Fun stuff.

And the amusement park had some really cool rides. Oh, you ask…which ones did we ride?

Tempting...but crazy.

Tempting…but crazy.

Well..none actually. I’m pretty sure I’m at the age where anything remotely like this is going to make my sick. Well, not entirely sure, but sure enough to not want to risk it.

We walked out on the pier instead, watched people crabbing and fishing. And then we walked along the boardwalk for a long way.

Reflecting.

Reflecting.

It seemed like a perfect end to a very nice day. But boy did all that walking wear us out! Especially when we had to climb all these stairs at the Barkley Center to exit the subway on our way home!

Gotta get my flights of stairs in every day.  Sigh.

Gotta get my flights of stairs in every day. Sigh.

We were pretty tired. And sore. But will we take it easy tomorrow?

What do you think?

Peaceful evening along the Atlantic.

Peaceful evening along the Atlantic.


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Monday

Happy flowering clematis.

Happy flowering clematis.

Not so long ago Saturday mornings were my favorite time of the week. The weekend stretched before me; hours and hours of time to spend however I wanted. But by Sunday morning I was already beginning to grieve.

Now that I’m retired I’ve noticed that my spirit picks up on Monday mornings. Early morning I settle into my chair to check the news and the weather, to contemplate life or to do nothing at all. Perhaps to fall back asleep. My choice.

Cheerful mikweed.

Cheerful mikweed.

The dog asks to go out, and I stand with her in my front yard and listen to the roar of the freeway a mile away. All those people headed back to work. It makes me smile.

I know that sounds smug. Possibly even evil. But with everyone back at work grocery shopping gets easier. Driving into town is less insane. Going to the park is more peaceful.

Joyful zinnia.

Joyful zinnia.

It seems like the sky is blue just for me. I notice the roses glowing, the birds singing. I have time to watch the light move across my back yard.

Mondays are special because they remind me again, every week, how lucky I am that I’m not jumping in the shower and then into the car, heading back into the fray.

Roses smell sweeter.

Roses smell sweeter.

Monday is my favorite day though the rest of the workweek isn’t bad either. And I’ve learned to tolerate all of you crowding up my weekend. I’ve learned to just hang on because Monday will roll around again soon.

Monday. It’s my favorite day.

What’s yours?

Makes me smile.

Makes me smile.


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Adventure – Day 5 – the long way home

I should have driven home on day 4; I was planning to go straight home after my two nights at Taquanamon Falls. I was out of food. The tent was wet. The holiday weekend, when campgrounds fill up and traffic gets crazy, was right around the corner.

But I was having too much fun.

So I searched for a State Forest campground to spend one more night, a campground that was sort of on the way. And I found one, situated along the Munuscong River near Pickford Michigan, still in the Upper Peninsula. After all the rain we’d had the river was wide and muddy.

The river mirrors the weather.

The river mirrors the weather.

There were several families settled into spots along the river. The mosquitoes were in residence there too, so I chose a large grassy site, further away from the river, which enjoyed a stiff breeze. In fact I didn’t slide my $13.00 payment into the secured payment pipe until I got the tent up because I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do that with the considerable wind. But it went up easily. I think it was glad for the opportunity to dry out.

Drying out in the evening sun.

Drying out.

I was glad myself. Everything got hung up and aired out. The site was huge and covered in grass. No mud. Towering pine trees. Perfect.

Even better, I was only two miles from an old barn. A photogenic old barn. So after camp was set up, on my way into town to find food, I stopped. Of course.

Maybe it's the barn.  Maybe it's the setting.  Maybe both.

Maybe it’s the barn. Maybe it’s the setting. Maybe both.

And the next day on my way home I lollygagged. Turns out there’s a lot of farm country between the Upper Peninsula and home. Lots of great barns. And that day there was a stunning sky filled with puffy white clouds that begged me to stop and attempt a capture.

Wheat field, clouds and a barn.

Wheat field, clouds and a barn.

So I did. In fact I stopped several times. Seems every exit I took there was something beautiful to enjoy.

Pretty spot on a pretty day.

Pretty spot on a pretty day.

Barns. Barns everywhere. Long, straight country roads crossing flat country with farms tucked in behind nearly every stand of trees.

Tucked way back there among the trees was a beautiful barn.

Tucked way back there among the trees was a beautiful barn.

Along one country road I met a couple of friends. They had come out of the woods and were walking down a lane.

This is OUR field lady!

This is OUR field lady!

They were not that excited to see me. After a long stare they turned and bounded back toward the woods.

Run!  She's got a CAMERA!

Run! She’s got a CAMERA!

Soon they were almost hidden from view.

I don't think she can see us now.

I don’t think she can see us now.

They made me smile.

But…back to barns.

Nice and square.  With hawk.

Nice and square. With hawk.

There were so many pretty places to stop.

Barns and clouds - winning combination.

Barns and clouds – winning combination.

I could have stayed out there all day. Wait. I did. What a gift retirement is! Time to play along the way home. Time to enjoy a beautiful sky and ripening wheat fields, meadows of wildflowers, soaring birds, bounding deer.

A fence can't contain the beauty.

A fence can’t contain the beauty.

And so ends this adventure. The camping gear is packed away. Katie the dog has forgiven me for leaving her behind. Husband has listened to the stories. The laundry is done, gardens weeded, groceries purchased, meals cooked. I’m going to visit Aunt V this afternoon.

Life has settled back into the familiar pattern. Adventures are, after all, only adventures if they are occasional. Sporadic.

Still…stay tuned.

Another pretty barn.

One last pretty barn.


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Adventure – day 4

When I left you last I was eating a sandwich in my tent while it rained. And rained. All night it rained. The good news is that the tent held up and didn’t leak. The bad news was that my site was entirely dirt and pine needles. And when I crawled out of the tent in early morning I saw that there was at least a foot of mud and debris splashed on the outside of all four walls.

I decided I’d go up to the upper falls while waiting for the sun to top the trees and maybe dry the tent out a little before I packed it up to head home. Nothing like folding up a sopping wet, muddy tent for a long drive.

Just a little damp that morning.

Just a little damp that morning.

The upper falls are 4 miles away from the campground, and I could have hiked it. But a round trip of 8 miles through the wet woods didn’t sound appealing and I didn’t really have that many hours to fill before I had to be out of the campground. So I drove. And on top of that I accidentally left my fitbit in the tent, so all those stairs down to the falls didn’t count. Almost as if I didn’t do them.

Lots of these.  Lots and lots.

Lots of these. Lots and lots.

The falls are beautiful, of course. They have a drop of almost 50 feet and are 200 feet across, with a water flow of 50,000 gallons per second! (All of this information was taken from the Tahquamenon Falls State Park website.)

Words can't adequately describe the beauty.

Words can’t adequately describe the beauty.

There are two sets of stairs. One set takes you to the viewing platform at the brink of the falls. That’s pretty, though it’s hard to get a great photo. The other set of stairs takes you down a steep cliff to the river where you can look upstream to the falls.

Stunning even from further away.

Stunning even from further away.

I think that’s my favorite, though there are more stairs to maneuver. Just consider it a great workout.

I enjoyed walk along the river back toward the falls. It was cool and damp, and the colors along the river were subtle but pretty through the trees.

Abstract art.

Abstract art.

After scrambling up and down both sets of stairs I knew I needed to head out. The park was filling up with holiday travelers, all friendly and happy to be out there, but kind of taking away from the beauty of the place. For me anyway. I went back to camp and packed up the still sopping wet tent. After all the rain it was a beautiful morning.

Just outside the park.

Just outside the park.

Since I was so close to Whitefish Point I knew I just had to head northeast. It’s only about 30 miles. And what’s 30 miles in the grand scheme of adventuring? I’ve been there before when it was cold and windy. This time it was just windy.

Red, white and blue.  Perfect for the 4th of July holiday.

Red, white and blue. Perfect for the 4th of July holiday.

It was busy here too, the parking lot was full, and there were lots of people at the top of the lighthouse. I headed to the beach, and ran into this adorable little boy.

Enjoying the huge sandbox.

Enjoying the huge sandbox.

Don’t worry. His mom was coming along with the other 3 children, right behind that little hill of sand.

And just around that corner was the beach. With waves and wind and a freighter out on the horizon.

See the freighter out there?

See the freighter out there?

Perfect.

Wildly beautiful.

Wildly beautiful.

I was protecting my camera against the windblown sand. But still…I couldn’t be out there without taking at least a few shots.

No matter where you look, it's all beautiful.

No matter where you look, it’s all beautiful.

Sadly I couldn’t linger long as I had a long drive ahead of me if I was going all the way home. So I needed to get going. Because I was going home. Right?

Well. Maybe not.

Could this be a new campsite?

Could this be a new campsite?


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Adventure – Day 3

The biggest, deepest, coldest lake of all.

The biggest, deepest, coldest lake of all.


It’s Lake Superior Day! Well. OK, it’s not a nationally recognized holiday but for me day 3 was all about Lake Superior. I couldn’t be in the Upper Peninsula, so close to the big lake, and not go for a visit.

So I drove from Tahquamenon Falls State Park up to Grand Marais which sits on the shore of the massive Great Lake and arrived just as a storm was rolling in.

It's raining out there.

It’s raining out there.

Perfect timing! Some people might be bummed out that there was rain (literally) on the horizon. But not me. The sky was amazing and I rushed down to the shore.

Low hanging clouds were fascinating.

Low hanging clouds were fascinating.

I was not alone.

Kids heading out to witness the storm.  And collect rocks.

Kids heading out to witness the storm. And collect rocks.

Though there was wind and the threat of rain, several families strolled the beach.

Strolling on the beach.

Beach walking.

Once the clouds rolled through I went for a quick lunch at a local restaurant, wandered the town and checked out the bay. I don’t know why, but this kayak caught my eye. I still haven’t figured out just why I like this shot. But I do.

Waiting to go for a ride.

Waiting to go for a ride.

With some advice from friends I traveled along the shore of Lake Superior, visited a waterfall….

Young, foolish parents.  Don't do this if you visit.

Young, foolish parents. Don’t do this if you visit.

…and explored a campground, potential for a future adventure…

Beautiful campground way back in the woods.

Beautiful campground way back in the woods.

…but my all time favorite place on this adventure was along the trail to the Au Sable Lighthouse. I’d visited the lighthouse two years ago, and this year I didn’t walk all the way out there. Too many tourists.

Come walk on the beach with me.

Come walk on the beach with me.

This time I took a short trail out to the lake and walked along the shore. I love Lake Michigan, enjoy Lake Huron, was pleasantly surprised this past spring by the beauty of Lake Erie. But there’s something extraordinary about putting your feet in Lake Superior.

Superior bubbles.

Superior bubbles.

Lots of people had been before me. But I had the place all to myself for the time I was there.

Evidence of visitors past.

Evidence of visitors past.

I climbed up on some big rocks and listened to the lake gurgle against the underside of them. Watched the water move, the clouds, the seagulls. Took a gazillion photos. Smiled.

Amazing.

Amazing.

Eventually I climbed down, gathered up two rocks from the shore and headed back to the car. Someday I hope to camp at the Hurricane River campground which sits right across the trail from the lake. Not during a hurricane of course.

My last stop of the day was Munising. By the time I arrived it had begun to rain in earnest so I stayed only long enough to check out the harbor and grab a sandwich for dinner.

Headed out into the mist.

Headed out into the mist.

Pictured Rocks is there, and it would be fun to take a kayack tour of the cliffs. But that would have to wait for another trip, a sunnier day. I headed back to the campground, two hours away, satisfied with what I had seen on this trip to Lake Superior.

I ate my sandwich in the tent as the gentle rain fell. And fell. And fell. It rained for nine hours, luckily all overnight. In the morning I’d head out again. Time to go home.

Or not.

Summer playground.

Summer playground.