For 5 years we had been living in our first (and last) lake home on Muskegon Lake, about a mile from Lake Michigan by water. A quiet cul-de-sac at the bottom of a steep hill which originally held 5 homes and some extra lots. The back of our house faced the lake with downtown Muskegon on the opposite shore. Our view from the front was an older neighborhood straight up the hill or the park due east with soccer fields, a baseball diamond and shelter house.

We were enjoying most aspects of life on the lake except for ‘Shack City’ which appeared on ice (without an invitation) every January. From that day forward I longed for the coveted day in mid-March when the solid ice broke up and returned to liquid form. We added a massive sea wall to stem the loss of land which ironically included a bonus. The influx of 100’s of snowmobiles on the ice who routinely zipped through our backyard-on and off until our shoreline was filled with bowling ball sized rocks. Unless they wanted considerable damage to their machine they had to find another place to exit off the ice. Win-win for us!

I’m not sure of the exact date but it was around Memorial Day in late May. We had a wicked spring storm that knocked out the power for a day. When it was restored I caught up the laundry, cooked a meal and things were back to normal-for less than 24 hours. Early the next morning we were hit by a massive storm. Torrential rain and unbelievable winds around 100 mph. They called it a ‘straight wind’ storm and the damage to our small town was significant.

This was two months after I made the decision to get healthier and lose weight. And I was committed. Walking 5 miles a day, eating better, (tough because I worked at McDonald’s and still love their fries and sausage biscuits to this day). The storm started right before dawn and knocked out the power again. But it was light out and warm enough so I put on walking clothes and headed up the hill and west.

About a mile from home I noticed a huge branch on the sidewalk ahead of me so I veered onto Ruddiman and continued walking. My nifty little iPod was cranking out crazy tunes to keep my butt moving. A few seconds later a utility truck stops right in front of me and a guy hops out to get my attention. I took off my headphones and he yelled, “Lady, what are you doing out here? Those are live wires on the sidewalk and road. It’s not safe for you to walk. Go home and don’t get close to any wires!”

Dang, that was harsh, but I took his snarky advice and trudged back home. Hubs had heard strange noises during the storm and was in the back yard inspecting the house. The wind had knocked out several under eaves and he was picking them up off the lawn. I followed his upward gaze. “Holy cow, that’s pretty high up. Who are you gonna hire to put those back up there?” “No one, I’m gonna do it.” “No you’re not!”

Which of course he did. Probably the scariest thing he’s ever done and that included his friends holding him upside down by his legs over a railroad trestle on Highway 18 so he could spray paint RV 66. But then he had been 17 and omnipotent. A couple months before the storm Hubs celebrated birthday #50. The tracks that kept the under eaves in place were damaged so he decided to rivet them in place-very near the top of a 20 foot ladder on our 2 story house. He still thanks God for keeping him safe through that.

By day 2 after the storm most of the power had been restored in North Muskegon-but not for the folks residing in the cul-de-sac at the bottom of the hill. We grilled supper or ate out but stayed in the house because we had a gas water heater and could shower.

But I was fretting about my freezers (which were full of meat and fruit pies) when my amazing McDonald’s boss/owner Mark told me I could use the walk-in freezer at the restaurant to store my foodstuff until we got power back. It was 7 long days before the power was restored.

Since that storm 25 years ago I have acquired a healthy dose of fear about losing power again for any length of time. Others might say my fear leans more towards irrational, illogical, unrealistic or implausible. They are entitled to their opinion as am I.

I have been a quantities shopper since I’ve had a spare 20 dollar bill in my wallet. I keep my freezer filled with supper options depending on what I’m craving ribs, shrimp, steak, chicken, pork chops or a beef roast. And I still ‘stew’ about losing power. Since our move 7 years ago I’ve periodically zhanicked (Dutch slang for whined) about buying a generator as Hubs nods in agreement. Lo and behold last fall he quips, “found the generator I want. It’s on sale, I’m heading to Chelsea.” (Thank you Jesus)

Not been without a couple hiccups getting it ready to run our house should the power go out. The generator rolled over Hubs as he was unloading it (he said it’s quite heavy and rolls rather fast on those little wheels), which required a trip to the ER. Subsequently he can’t lift anything over 5 pounds with his left wrist and later developed water on his elbow which was just drained by a specialist. Then we discovered our breaker box was obsolete and doesn’t supply enough juice so we hired an electrician to install and upgrade a new Square D box while waiting 2 months for Consumers to kill the power, then coordinate with the city inspector to approve the electrician’s work and sign off on it, which meant a day without power in December. Part of the irony of having a generator ready to run the house but unable to do the job until receiving Consumers’ and the city’s blessing.

Finally in mid-December we were ready for a natural disaster. Yay! (Should I really be celebrating that)? John filled multiple 5 gallon tanks of gas and periodically starts the generator. Two short months after the necessary improvements we were hit by a massive ice storm. We lost electricity at 7 pm on a Wednesday but didn’t get the generator out immediately in case the power was out for a short time. After an hour Hubs slid the generator near the deck and started it. Lights, furnace, (and most importantly, my freezer happily humming again). We lost the internet so had no TV but every other comfort of home. Our electricity was out for 48 hours but the neighbors across the street were without for 72. They brought their phones and tablets here to charge. Hubs brought them thermos’ of coffee every morning and I made them a pot of soup for supper. Our granddaughter, her boyfriend and 2 cats stayed here for several days because their house 8 miles away was without power a couple days longer than our neighborhood.

We were surprised at how much noise the generator generates. It’s loud! This spring Hubs is gonna vent it out of the garage so we can leave it in there and the noise level will be substantially lower. Was it worth the money and hassle? For my peace of mind? Ab-so-lute-ly…

Hubs got a beer making kit from his favorite son-in-law for Christmas. The large box sat on the counter in the pantry since that December day. “Dude, what’s the hold up here?” “I’m torn. I got issues.” Oh my stars, here we go. We’re diving into the background on his “issues,” which occurred over a half century ago in 1969.

Johnny Wayne and I were having some serious conversations about what exactly the future held for us. I was 18, he was 21. I had boundary issues concerning my folks. I was a belligerent, selfish brat trying to make my own decisions but failing miserably when it came to opposing mom & dad on anything but there I was on the cusp-of-the-rest-of-my-life.

The line in the sand on their part was the elimination of Johnny from my life on a permanent basis. This was one of their several semi-successful-mostly failed attempts on their part to ‘encourage’ their wayward daughter to seek a path of less/no resistance where mom and dad’s opinions about how I lived my life were concerned.

Meanwhile Johnny and I were devising the ultimate secret plan which would culminate in the fall. This is what played out during the rest of our summer of ‘69. We were staying on the ‘down low’ because many of our friends in Sioux City were from our hometown (60 miles away). None of them would ‘out’ us intentionally but a mere slip of the tongue by one of them when talking to family and the whole of Rock Valley proper would in on our plan. So we told NO ONE. Until we needed help pulling it off.

One of ‘those’ friends had just graduated from college and landed his first teaching job in South Sioux City, Nebraska. Not enough time for a summer job, zero income, no where to live, so Johnny says, “Dale, come stay with me. I’ll pay for everything until you get paid and find a place of your own.”

I was living in a boarding house with several young women and working a variety of shifts at a nursing home. John worked a combination of days and nights at Channel 4, so the new roomies could not go out very often. Which was good since they could ill afford to blow a wad of money neither of them had. Many nights were spent with a six pack of Hamm’s (from the land of sky blue wa-ters) sitting on the front porch and Dale strumming his guitar.

Out of boredom they came up with the clever idea to make their own beer. Elton, a mutual friend had often reminisced about the beer his dad brewed in Oklahoma. The process would take weeks and give them something to do (and drink). So they called Elton, who called his dad and relayed the recipe to the Iowa guys.

They bought a new plastic garbage can, mixed up the ingredients and stuck it under the kitchen sink. After a few days threw in an alcohol thermometer to see when the brew could be bottled. Zero, zilch, nada on alcohol content a couple weeks later. Called Elton back and asked for remedies to register some booze in the beer. Elton called his dad who suggested tossing in a couple apples so fermentation could get a jumpstart. The boys threw in a large bag of apples. A couple days later they walked into foam filled kitchen. A sticky mess, but registering a high alcohol reading. Hauled the can downstairs, removed the alcohol infused apples and bottled their beer, anxious to try some.

Later when they were asleep one of them woke up to loud popping sounds. Bottles of beer were exploding in the basement. Not just popping the cork but shards of glass and beer everywhere. They decided to move the intact bottles to a metal tank, immersing them and running cold water continuously. (Aren’t you glad you didn’t own this place or paid the water bill)? Couple weeks later these yahoos could get a buzz on after one bottle of beer. (Good grief, what was I getting into)?

This is one of Hubs favorite stories involving his best friend Dale, who passed away unexpectedly 2 years ago. I’m guessing John felt disloyal with the thought of brewing beer without him. Hubs finally read the beer instruction manual (several pages long, in minute detail, unlike the lackadaisical recipe via Elton years ago) and together (I’m a poor substitute for Dale and wouldn’t drink a beer for less than a thousand bucks-prepaid-in cash) but it was kind of fun, hops and yeast everywhere. I think Hubs can finish his beer project without me. Oh, and the secret plan commenced on September 22, 1969 when Johnny Wayne & Neese eloped in Elk Point, South Dakota with Dale and a complete stranger as our witnesses. So much fun spreading the news to our parents. Yikes…