We moved from our native state of Iowa to Michigan in 1987. That moved necessitated another move 7 years later, (staying in Michigan-much to our surprise. We thought moving from our beloved state would last a maximum of 3-5 years) about 175 miles to the western shore of Lake Michigan where we stayed for 22 years (still perplexed by the length of that stay too).

Our move to the west shore was minus a kid-almost 2. Shannon was finishing college at Michigan State while being mom to Ariana who was 3. Joshua was about to start his first year at State, so only 15 year-old Adam called our new house, home. Tough time for him to move at the end of his freshman year. That summer before school started he knew absolutely no one. But we had never lived on a lake before so that was unique. Our house was 2 years old and located on a private drive consisting of 4 homes, with the addition of 8 dogs, including our cockapoo, Chico.

Still, a long summer for Adam. One of the first people to befriend him was a guy 2 doors away. His name was Dale and he was a few years older than us. He and his wife Carol had a beautiful home with a permanent dock and a 2 year old black lab named Junior. Junior loved lake life like no other. He would fetch sticks thrown (FOREVER) out in the water until he drowned-if you didn’t stop. He would wander in our backyard, carrying a rather, thick branch in his mouth and practically knock you over until you started throwing. By the end of an hour he would be full of seaweed. His ‘mom or dad’ would bathe him before allowed in the house again (however Junior considered the house his). They had an outside faucet with warm water for this chore, which wasn’t necessary because Junior swam in the lake until it was solid ice. Carol was an excellent seamstress and quilter. One summer day Adam was visiting with Graham and spotted a newborn fawn under our boat lift. John snapped a picture and showed it to Dale and Carol. Carol scanned the photo onto cloth and stitched it on a pillow for us.

Besides spending time with the neighborhood dogs, Dale taught Adam how to fish. They were fishing buddies through and through. While they caught pan fish to eat like perch, sunfish or walleye, the most enjoyable time spent fishing was catching junk fish like dogfish, sheepshead or gar pike. Those species put up a good fight and it was advantageous to remove them from a good fishing spot like Muskegon Lake. Dogfish (bow fin) especially, who ate more than their fair share of fish, including babies, Mallards and Canadian geese. Really anything they could get in their mouth-they ate with gusto.

Dale gave Adam advice on lures, weights of fishing line, poles, bait, and to always use metal containers for bait or the dogfish would chew right through it. They had weekly Thursday night contests (most of the neighborhood guys throwing in 10 bucks each) who could catch the biggest dogfish by dusk. Dogfish have nasty teeth and one bit right through Adam’s thumb. And ‘Doggin’ for Dollars” was initiated.

Every Thursday, “Doggin’ for dollars was the highlight of Adam’s week. He won frequently which royally pissed off a couple of guys (dedicated sport fishermen). Getting beat by a 15 year old (smartass rookie) wasn’t appreciated. Dale didn’t want the dogfish thrown back in the lake because it was bad for fishermen, the lake and any baby fish) so Carol suggested they be buried under one of her many flowerbeds (which were spectacularly beautiful) the next day. The caught nuisance fish would lay on Dale’s backyard through the night (still breathing) until he would carefully dig a hole for deposit. Win-win for Muskegon Lake! Dale was happy to oblige for the Mrs.

When Adam started his sophomore year he said, “who would have thought when we moved here my best friends would be a 54 year-old-guy and his dog?” Dale and Adam remained fishing buddies and good friends until Adam moved to Kalamazoo to finish college a few years later. The black labs changed over the years with Dale and Carol, but they all loved swimming, fetching sticks and calling the house their own.

We moved from North Muskegon almost 11 years ago. Our then 10-year-old granddaughter Peyton, while anxious to have us move closer was devastated when we put the house on the market. Dale was famous for his “Million Dollar Fudge” and gifted us with a platter each Christmas. “How are we gonna get our Dale fudge,” she pleaded? We’ve since stopped a couple times while we were in town but it’s not the same as being neighbors. Sadly, Dale passed away a couple of years ago. He’s moved on to the best fishing holes in heaven. Adam graduated from Western Michigan, moved to Ann Arbor, got a terrific job as head chef at a fancy steak house, plus gave us an incredible grandson, (Graham, who is also a great fisherman).

Adam still reminisces about his first summer of fishing with his friend Dale, playing with Junior and how much that summer meant to him…

By the late-90’s mom and dad needed some extra help. Dad was almost 80 and mom was my age (gulp). After her non-Hodgkin’s diagnosis she never fully recovered, suffering a stroke caused by the strong chemotherapy in her cancer fight. She never walked by herself after that. Her cooking days were over and although dad was capable of oatmeal, microwave popcorn or scrambled eggs, but nothing fancier than that.

Luckily there were several restaurants/drive-ins where dad could order and pick up their main meal of the day which they could afford. To help, I started beefing up my visits, flying from mid-Michigan to Omaha, (which was still 150 miles from mom & dad) usually from early Thursday until Tuesday. There was a site called Cheap Seats where I could get a flight around a hundred bucks, plus a car rental which was inexpensive.

Although her physical health was compromised, mom remained sharp mentally. After I arrived and unpacked, the first thing we’d do together was make out a grocery list (extensive) of everything I needed to cook and bake for several days and anything else mom was craving. She didn’t have much of an appetite and often said, “Honey, I’m just not hungry.” But if I set a plate in front of her with a slice of pumpkin bread (slathered with butter), a couple of Pride of Iowa cookies, piece of fudge or Penuche with a glass of Diet Pepsi, the plate would be empty in 10 minutes. It was knowing what (and having the food available) her favorites were. Her cravings hadn’t changed much over the course of her life.

After my grocery store run it was time to get some serious cooking and baking started. The only big item that was in the house beforehand was a small turkey-already thawing in the fridge. We had a complete turkey dinner (including homemade cranberry sauce) every time I visited and usually invited my bestie, Char and her mom, Esther over to share the bounty. Mom always looked forward to company (and prayed fervently that I not mess the meal up).

I’m not the quickest to recognize subtle changes around me, but this one was a biggie. Realistically, I could see mom and dad were steadily going downhill, yet I seemed incapable of processing this change. It took me years to see it for what it was. While I actually enjoyed helping them for a few days every six or eight weeks for several reasons. Dad was grateful for home cooked food (and relieving him of caregiving duties for a spell), mom dearly loved having me home. She was clearly disappointed if I made plans to do something outside of her inner circle, (Just the 2 of us, building them castles in the sky-just the 2 of us, you and I) like shopping or visiting other relatives for a few hours.

Reminiscing at the difficulty of what I was feeling filled me with so much guilt. But it was time to face facts. Regrettably, I simply resented them. My own mom and dad! Not for the trips or all the cooking. But I hated witnessing their glaring, gradual decline every few weeks. I didn’t WANT them to change. It made me angry. I longed to see them as they were in their 60’s. Mom working a few hours a week at the local nursing home. Dishing out funny/quaint/heartwarming stories about the residents she had loved for years. And then there’s dad. Weekly trips to the Gospel Mission in Sioux City or Sioux Falls (or both) to preach and teach Bible studies. Truly his mission in life and something he was honored to do for his Lord and Savior since he gave his life to Christ after Larry was killed in the late ‘50’s.

Now in my mid-70’s, (another shocker) mom passed away when she was 77, in 2004. I see how accurately I nailed that portion of my life. But I’ve been so blessed. My overall health is good. Balance seems to be the biggest health issue right now, mostly due to my profound hearing loss. Hubs is doing well, still mowing and snow blowing. Maintaining little stuff that’s part of home ownership, leaky faucets, a bad board on the deck or that little handle thingy on the toilet that needs replacing occasionally. Putzing around in his baby blue 1962 Studebaker Champ pickup. He gets more horn honks, high fives, frantic waves and thumbs up with that old truck than he did with his mid-year Stingray Corvette, which we owned for 25 years! (Yeah, neither of us understand that either-but it’s true).

But now I see changes in me. A decade ago if I stayed home for 2 solid days, I would get twitchy. I needed to go-somewhere, anywhere, grocery store, mall or a long walk. Now it’s 4 or 5 days at home before the ‘itch’ hits me. I move slower, get tired faster, my life is just at a slower pace. I still cook, do laundry and try to keep the house tidy. We rarely eat out so I spend big bucks on groceries. But I think I’d be okay if I never flew again or stayed in another hotel. I like my house. I love being home. I wanna be here. I still like writing but it takes me longer to ‘bring up’ the right noun or verb when describing something. I see a layer of dust on my beautiful antiques and think, “woman, you gotta dust. Just do one room a day.” But the layer of dust remains. (Boy, one of these days though). I know our kids must notice the difference in us, it’s impossible not to. I wonder how they’re dealing/processing the inevitable changes they’re witnessing…