Podcasts about Mackinac Island

On this special recap of 2025, co-hosts John Gonzalez and Amy Sherman of Behind the Mitten share some of this season's most memorable moments.We kick off with show with an interview from the kitchen of Jen's Hen House in St. Helen,followed by the intriguing job of a Great Lakes Pilot,followed by a great market (known for their feta cheese) in Houghton Lake.Finally, we wrap up with a heartwarming conversation with Dominick Miller from Mackinac State Historic Parks, offering a unique glimpse into life on Mackinac Island throughout the seasons.Don't miss this engaging episode filled with adventure and insight!Learn more about Mackinac State Historic Parks at mackinacisland.org.Cover Photo courtesy of:It's Wonderful Photography by Sara Wright Learn more at itswonderfulphotography.com

Michigan Weather and Women: Part 1 Love, bastards, and what we leave behind. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected. The Plumber, The Painter, and the Wind off the Lake Prologue I have never been much for following instructions or doing what I'm told. In eighth grade, we were assigned to make a volcano in science class. I figured that if the eruption looked good with a couple of tablespoons of baking soda, then it would look even better with the whole container! And what better place for a natural disaster than the teacher's desk at the front of the class. I was right; the whole container of baking soda produced an impressive explosion. What I didn't count on, however, was it producing a week-long suspension from school and a beating from my mother. In high school, we had to take an art class to graduate. Our teacher loved still life drawing and would ramble endlessly about how it revealed the beauty that is in the everyday objects that surround us. I guess he wanted us to reveal the beauty in the bowl of fruit that he had put in the middle of the classroom, but the most beautiful things that I could see were Brittany Johnson's D-cups which filled out her sweater gloriously. At the end of the class, there were 29 drawings of a bowl of fruit and one drawing of a beautiful girl's smile (amongst other details). Although I was suspended for two days, I got a date with Brittany who loved my drawing, so I feel like I came out ahead on that one. In my last year of school, the final mathematics exam asked the following question: Determine the points of intersection between the following parabolas and lines. Illustrate fully. While the other students slaved away to solve the listed problems in the allotted time, I fully illustrated a drawing of our math teacher, Mr. Aaronson, dancing a slow waltz in a field of sunflowers with Mrs. Stevens, the geography teacher. It was the worst-kept secret in the school that our two shyest teachers had massive crushes on each other, and after four years of watching them pine away, I thought they could use a little push. I failed the test, but Mr. Aaronson showed my drawing to Mrs. Stevens during a particularly dull staff meeting, and when it made her blush and smile, he finally got up the courage to ask her out. They are now married and have a little girl who is as cute as a button. At the end of the year, Mr. Aaronson asked me if I planned to pursue math in the future, and when I assured him that I did not, he gave me a passing grade. So, what was my problem, you might ask? Was I just one of those kids who didn't give a shit and was destined for mediocrity or failure in life? Like many things, the answer is more complicated than it might first appear, but I am getting ahead of myself. Our story starts on an unusually cold and blustery afternoon in late October, on the north-eastern shore of Lake Michigan about a half hour's drive north of Petoskey, just outside a village called Good Hart. Chapter 1. It had been a busy day. The perfect storm of an early season snap freeze, strong winds, and lake-effect snow meant that there was a couple of inches of snow on the still soggy ground, along with a number of leaky or burst pipes, malfunctioning valves, and boiler issues as people cranked their heating systems up to full for the first time that year. As a plumber, though, I didn't mind. It just meant more work for me, which was always a good thing. At only 25 years of age, and despite being a master plumber, I was generally the last choice for folks to call, even in an emergency. Anyone with money chose one of the larger and more established plumbing contractors, leaving me with the jobs that they didn't feel were worth their time or effort. That's how I found myself pulling into the laneway of an older house, just off Lamkin Road down by the lake, late that Friday afternoon. It was my last job of the day, but I would be working over the weekend to catch up on my backlog, so I wanted to get it done. The house looked like it hadn't been updated since it was built, likely in the late fifties or early sixties, other than a couple of coats of paint and a new roof when the original finally gave up the ghost. The front gardens were neatly tended, however, and the property itself was stunning, with panoramic views in three directions out over the lake. The sun was just beginning to dip toward the western horizon as I drove up, so the trees cast long shadows across the laneway. The house was owned by Mrs. Wilma C. Anderson, who had called me earlier in the day to say that some of her radiators weren't working and that her boiler was making one hell of a racket when she turned it on. I told her to shut the system down and that I would look at it by the end of the day. She sounded quite elderly, and I didn't like the idea of her going without heat for a night during a cold snap. I rang the doorbell and waited until a tiny wisp of a woman answered. She couldn't have been more than five feet tall and looked older than the hills, but her face was full of life, and her eyes had a twinkle that spoke of humor and mischief. "Hi, Mrs. Anderson, I'm Davis Crawford. You called earlier about some issues with your boiler and heating system. How can I help?" Mrs. Anderson gave me an appraising look. "I wasn't expecting you to be such a handsome young man. If I were fifty years younger, I would tell you exactly how you could help me, and then I'd teach you a trick or two I learned over the years. But I am too old for that kind of foolishness these days, so I will just have to make use of your plumbing expertise instead. And please, call me Wilma." I couldn't help but laugh and blush at Wilma's surprisingly raunchy sense of humor. I liked her immediately. "Let's try that again. What seems to be the problem?" "Well, the biggest problem is that I am 91 years old and dying of cancer. The doctors give me less than a year to live. But aside from that, I really can't complain. I have had a good run of it." I cocked my head to one side and gave her a bemused look. "Oh, you were wondering what the problem is with my heating system. Well, I turned it on this morning when I got up, and the boiler sounded like there was someone trapped inside of it trying to hammer their way out. There was a worrisome hissing from some of the radiators, as well, and they weren't heating up worth a damn. "My husband, Phillip, used to take care of those things for us, but he has been gone for almost five years now, so I hate to think what you will find when you look around." "I'm sure I can help you, Mrs. Anderson,;" "Wilma, please." "Sorry, Wilma. Why don't you show me to the basement, and I will try to figure out what's wrong. Then I can get started on fixing it." On the way to the basement stairs, Wilma led me through her crowded but orderly living room. I couldn't help but notice the paintings on just about every surface of its walls. "You have a real eye for art, Wilma. Those paintings are beautiful." Wilma smiled wistfully at me and got a faraway look in her eyes as she replied. "Phillip and I were artists. I guess I still am, but I haven't felt much like painting since he passed on. Phillip painted portraits. He made a surprisingly good living at it; you would be amazed at what rich people will pay to see their lives immortalized in oil on canvas. I never had the knack. Phillip could make even the most corpulent and corrupt industrialist appear regal and wise. I could only ever capture what I actually saw in them, and I quickly discovered that they did not enjoy, or pay for, that kind of introspection. "So, I painted landscapes, and there is always a market for those. But I kept some of my favorite pieces, over the years, as you can see." As Wilma spoke, I took a closer look at the paintings. One, in particular, was striking; a portrait of a beautiful young woman, in her late teens or early twenties, with a stethoscope around her neck and her blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She was wearing a loose hoodie and was curled up in an Adirondack chair, reading a book. It was not what you would expect from a formal portrait, but it seemed to capture her essence in a way that no photograph could match. I must have stopped moving as I was drawn into the image, so Wilma gave me a minute before she continued. "That's the last painting that Phillip worked on before he passed. He didn't get the chance to finish it, but I still think it's his finest work." I couldn't help but agree. "Who's the model? She's beautiful." "That's my granddaughter, Erin. You can't tell from the portrait, but she's a real firecracker. As a grandparent, you're not supposed to play favorites, but she was very special to Phillip, and it hit her hard when he passed. There is more love in that one painting than in all the other portraits that he painted over his lifetime. Except for his first, of course, of me." "Where are Phillips' other works? Surely, they weren't all commissions that are now locked away in some dusty millionaire's palace." Wilma's expression turned bleak as she contemplated her response. "All of his other paintings were sold after he died. The kids said they would fetch a better price while there was an upswing of interest in his work after his death, so they insisted that they all go to auction as quickly as possible. They were probably right, I guess, although I loved his art more than I needed the money. But how do you argue with your kids when they have just lost their father?" "Do any of your children live nearby?" "They all moved far away. Phillip and I chose a wonderful spot to live and make our art, but a challenging place to raise a family. It's not so bad now, what with the internet, highways, and the like, but when we first moved here sixty-some years ago, it was very isolated. We were young and selfish, and our selfishness cost us dearly. "We thought that our children would grow to love this area over time, like we did. But they never did, and they left as soon as they could get away. My daughter, Samantha, is a retired lawyer and she and her third husband split their time between their loft in Manhattan and their beach house in the Bahamas. My son, Robert, is an oil executive down in Texas. Neither of them has been here in more than a decade, except for Phillip's funeral. "My baby, Max, passed away more than twenty years ago now of cancer. Erin is his granddaughter. She is a pediatrician, and she splits her time between the hospital in Petoskey and the children's hospital down in Grand Rapids. She comes to see me when she can, but she is very busy. My other relatives all live busy lives far away from here. We chose to live here, though, so I can't be too upset that the rest of the family chose to live far away. "But enough about me. What about you, Mr. Crawford? Do you have any children?" "It's just me and my siblings, I'm afraid, and it's been that way for quite some time. My oldest sister, Alison, is 20, and she goes to college at North Central Michigan, in Petoskey. She is planning to become a nurse practitioner. The rest of the gang still lives at home with me. Sharon is 17 now, so she kind of runs the show while I am working; Mary is 15 but going on 30, if you know what I mean; and Lane is the baby of the family at 12." "Where are your parents?" "I don't honestly know. We each have a different father, or at least we think we do. Sharon, Lane, and I have no idea who our fathers are, so there's a chance that we might be full siblings, but I doubt it. My mother never kept the same man around for long. Alison's father has been in and out of jail since before she was born and is currently serving a stint in federal prison. But Mary has it the worst of all of us. "My mother met Mary's dad on a weekend bender in Vegas, and he is a pretty big deal. Rich, famous, the kind of guy you see on TV and the cover of magazines. A real family man, except when it comes to Mary, whom he refuses to even acknowledge. He bought my mom's silence with a lump sum payment and a non-disclosure agreement. That money was supposed to be put in a trust for Mary, but my mom snorted and injected it all in less than a year. Mary has written to her father dozens of times and reached out to him on social media countless more, but he wants nothing to do with his bastard daughter. "As for my mom, she went away for the weekend almost seven years ago now and left me in charge. And I am still in charge, I guess. So, no time for dating or romance for me, and I think that I will be just about done with raising kids by the time that Lane goes off to college." Wilma gave me a look filled with more empathy than I had felt in a long time, maybe ever. "Anyway, I should take a look at your boiler and see what I can do about getting you some heat." I would have called the boiler in Wilma's basement old, but that wouldn't have done it justice. Frankly, it wouldn't have seemed out of place in a museum of heating and plumbing, and it was hanging on to life by the barest of threads. With only a year to live, however, I wasn't going to recommend to Wilma that she replace the whole system with something more modern and efficient. "I think I can fix your boiler so that it will hold on for another year or two, and I can patch a couple of leaks in the lines to the main radiators as well. One line to a radiator at the back of the house is completely shot, so I will shut that one off and be back to replace it later this week." "What's all that going to cost?" "It's free of charge, Ma'am. You've got enough to look after with your health and all, without having to worry about your heating system. I never had a grandma to spoil, at least not one that I know of, so it would be my pleasure to do this for you." "Please, it's Wilma. And it's a grandmother's prerogative to spoil her grandchildren, and not the other way around. But your kindness is mighty appreciated, Davis." It took me a couple of hours to shore up the boiler and repair the lines that were still in reasonable condition before I was finished for the day. As I got ready to leave, I found Wilma sitting alone in the living room reading an old paperback. "I'll call you later this week, once the replacement line for your radiator comes in." Wilma got a mischievous smile on her face. "Why, Davis, are you getting fresh with me?" "If I were older and more experienced, I would in an instant. But I hardly think I can compete with the memory of your Phillip." "Too true, too true. Alright young man, well thank you for taking the time to look after a foolish old woman on a cold October night." "I hardly think you're foolish, Wilma, but it's been my pleasure." I didn't get home from Wilma's until well after nine that night, and by the time I pulled into our gravel driveway, I was beat. The dilapidated old yard light mounted on the roof of the garage shone weakly down on the sloppy mix of gravel and mud that was our yard, and I could hear the excited barks of Munchkin, our rescue puppy. He was a mix of German Shepherd and Cane Corso, with some variety of northern dog thrown in, and he was mighty pleased to see me. I'm glad that someone was. I came into our small three-bedroom rental to find Sharon and Lane sitting at the dining room table working on his math homework. I wish that they reacted like Munchkin when they saw me, but Lane just grunted a hello, while Sharon looked up at me with a mixture of sadness and worry. "Mary is out with the McDougal brothers again. They showed up here a half hour ago, I told her not to go with them, but she wouldn't listen." "The McDougal brothers are assholes," was Lane's addition to the conversation, without even looking up from the table. He wasn't wrong. The oldest McDougall brother, Calum, was a couple of years ahead of me at school and was a bully and a braggart. Two of his three brothers had followed in his esteemed footsteps, while the jury was still out on the youngest, James. "I'm going to go get her. Next time that those boys turn up in our yard, let Munchkin lose on them." "Alright, dinner will be in the oven when you get back. Given 'em hell, Bro." The McDougal brothers lived just outside Pellston in the closest thing to a mansion that you could find in our neck of the woods. Their family owned the largest construction and maintenance company in the area and had most of the Public Works contracts sown up, along with a not inconsiderable portion of the private construction in our region as well. Their parents spent most of their time in Sarasota, Florida, though, and the brothers had free rein while they were gone. As I drove up their long, paved driveway, automatic floodlights came on, illuminating the ostentatious columns that flanked the entrance to their house. I parked in front of the nearest bay of their four-car attached garage while noting that there was another three-car garage further off to the right. I idly wondered who got to park in which garage. Rich people problems, I guess. I walked to the front door and let myself in. From the foyer, I could hear the loud thump of music coming from the back of the house, so I headed that way. As I passed through the kitchen, I nearly bumped into James, who was holding a couple of empty serving bowls. He stopped dead when he saw me, looking nervous, clearly not expecting anyone else to be in their house. Certainly not me, anyway. "Hey James, I am here to get my sister. Where is she?" He hesitated a moment before pointing toward the back of the house. "She's in the game room playing pool with the guys. We didn't force her to come here or anything, if that's what you're worried about." "Maybe that's true, James. But you know she is still a minor, and I am her guardian, so I'm going to fetch her and bring her home." James didn't like the sound of that, but I turned my back on him and followed the music to a large, sunken room at the back of the house, which had an expensive-looking pool table in the middle. The remaining McDougal brothers were either playing pool or smoking up on one of the couches that were scattered around the outside of the room. Calum was presiding over the festivities, while the Pistons game was playing on a wall-mounted TV that was bigger than some movie screens. Despite his family's blue-collar roots, Calum looked like an overgrown frat boy, with his preppy clothes and fifty-dollar haircut. Mary was sitting in the middle of one of the couches, with a McDougal brother on one side and one of their hangers-on on the other. She looked somewhere between uncomfortable and scared, but she gave me a defiant scowl. The music stopped, and everyone looked to Calum and then back at me. There was a nervous tension in the air. "Hi Calum, I'm here for my sister." Calum was now in a bit of a spot; he couldn't just let me come into his home and give him orders without losing face with his brothers and their cronies. But he also knew, or at least suspected, that my sister was underage. And then there was always the Pipe Wrench Incident. That always made people nervous to be around me. "That's not my problem. She told my brother that she wanted to party, so she's here to party. No one forced her to come, and she seems to be having a good time." I wondered if all of Calum's dates looked as scared and uncomfortable as Mary did at that moment when they were having a 'good time'. "Well, since she is still a minor and I'm her guardian, it's a bit of a problem. Or it could be. But I don't want to put a damper on your evening, so I'll just bring Mary home with me and we'll call it a night." Calum looked toward James who had just come back into the room with bowls now filled with potato chips. "Is that true, Limp dick? Did you bring an underage girl home to party with us?" James began to sputter before Calum shook his head in disgust. He pointed over at Mary. "Get the fuck out of here, and don't come back until you're sixteen," he said before turning back to me. "And you. Just get the fuck out of our house." It was a silent drive home. Mary refused to even look at me, staring out the window instead. When we pulled into our yard, Munchkin came running up to greet us, and Mary finally spoke. "You didn't need to embarrass me like that. I'm old enough to make my own choices, you know." "The law says you're still a minor. And you'll always be my sister. Those guys are no good, Mary. You know that." "James is different. He isn't like the rest of them." "Maybe that's true, or maybe not. But you don't hang out in a nest of rattlesnakes, just because there is a garter snake in there with them that you think is cute." After a pause and some continued barking from Munchkin, Mary finally looked over at me. "You're not my dad, you know. You can't tell me what to do." And there it was. It always came down to the same thing with Mary; her father's rejection of her. Over the years, it had undermined her self-esteem and destroyed her self-worth to the point where I wondered if they would ever recover. Unfortunately, I was just smart enough to see the problem, but I had no idea how to fix it. A brother's love can only go so far, I guess. "I know, Mary. I know. But I love you, and I am so proud of you, and I just wish that was enough." We sat in silence for another minute before she replied. "I wish it was too." Chapter 2. It took a couple of days for Mrs. Anderson's new radiator line to arrive, and I gave her a call when I went to pick it up. "Hi, Mrs. And; Wilma. I was just picking up the replacement line for your radiator, and I was wondering if you needed anything else from town, while I'm here. I was going to come by and install the line later this afternoon if that works for you." "That's very kind of you, Davis. Would you mind picking up a few groceries for me? I can send the store a list, so they will be ready for you when you get there." A couple of my calls that day took longer than expected, so it was late in the afternoon again by the time I made it to Wilma's place. The early season snow had mostly melted away, and her yard was now a combination of gravel and thick soupy mud that could swallow a tire as easily as it could swallow a boot. "Thank you for picking the groceries up for me, you're too kind." "It was no trouble at all, especially since I was coming out this way anyway. If you don't mind me asking, how do you usually get them?" "I used to have a young man up the way who would help me with groceries and yard work, and other small things, but now I am pretty much on my own." "What happened to him? Did he move away?" "No, he still lives in the same place that he always has, but I am pretty sure that my family paid him more not to help me than I was paying for his assistance." "What? That seems like a crappy thing for them to do to you." Wilma gave a resigned sigh and then offered me a coffee while she told me her story. "I think I told you the last time you were here, that most of my family has moved on from this place, except my granddaughter Erin. The rest of them already have an agreement in place with a developer, the McDougals, to turn this property into a high-end resort for the Fudgies, so they have someplace to spend their money after visiting Mackinac Island." "Fudgies," was what the locals called the tourists from down south who descended on the upper peninsula in the summer. "If you don't mind me asking, just how much land do you own?" "Well, Phillip and I didn't have much to spend our money on over the years, so we bought up many of the nearby properties when they went up for sale. We ended up with at least a quarter mile of land that fronts onto the lake, without even really trying." I let out a low whistle. "That must be worth a small fortune. I can understand your family's interest." "At first, they didn't care if I stayed in the house after Phillip died. They figured that I would follow soon enough. After a few years, however, they started to get impatient, and it's fair to say that they are now actively encouraging me to leave, by foot, by car, or in a box. They have generously offered to put me out to pasture in a warehouse for the old and infirm, though, to await my impending doom. "With my cancer, their wish is finally going to come true. By this time next year, I will be sipping coffee with Phillip in whatever afterlife we atheists get to enjoy. Actually, who am I kidding? If there is an afterlife for Phillip and me, the first thing I'm going to do when I get there is get on my knees, undo his belt buckle, and then show him just how much I've missed him these past five years. Wilma looked a bit startled as if she had just remembered that I was still there. "I'm sorry, Davis. You probably didn't need to hear that last part. I just miss him so much. I still see him in the trees and along the shore, and I sometimes hear his voice in the wind off the lake." "It's all good, Wilma. I just hope that my brother and sisters get to experience the kind of love that you and Phillip had someday." "What about you, Davis? Don't you deserve to experience that kind of love as well?" "Maybe I deserve it, Wilma, but I don't think I am going to find it. It's been tough; real tough, looking after my family all these years. I have done things that I am not proud of, but that needed to be done. I don't regret them; I would do anything to protect the people I love. But I doubt that anyone would be able to love me, once they found out what I've done." "I think you are selling yourself short, Davis. We are all artists, and we are all worthy of love." With that, Wilma offered to top up my coffee before I started replacing the broken line. As the evening's shadows deepened, I saw her watching me with compassion and concern in her eyes. Once I was finished, I felt her hand on my shoulder, and she gave it an empathetic squeeze. "A penny for your thoughts?" I stopped what I was doing and turned to look at her. "It's my sister, Mary. I am losing her. She is so hurt and angry that she is beginning to make bad choices, and I don't know how to help her. I've tried to be her brother, parent, and friend, but I'm failing at all three." Wilma offered no judgment, good or bad. She just listened, and when I finished, she spoke. "Bring her over this Sunday around noon. Tell her to wear some old clothes that she doesn't mind getting dirty. You can come too if you would like and bring your little brother to do some fishing, but Mary will be spending her time with me." It wasn't easy convincing Mary to come to Wilma's. If you have spent time dealing with teenage girls, you know that they can be as stubborn as late-season ice on the lake. In the end, I resorted to threats and bribery to get her onboard, but she assured me that she would hate every minute she was there. Lane came with us as well, with the promise that we could spend the afternoon fishing off the end of Wilma's dock. By the time we arrived, Mary was sullenly glued to the passenger seat and wouldn't look up from her phone. Wilma waited a few minutes for Mary, but she stubbornly refused to leave the truck. Eventually, Wilma pulled on her rubber boots and walked over to the truck. She looked up at Mary and started speaking. "There are three things that I know are true. "The first, I've already shared with your brother. We are all artists because we are all worthy of love. But many of us lose our way. We are hurt and abandoned, and we are buried in shame. I was like that for many years. But my husband, Phillip, found me and taught me what it is to be loved. Not just the physical act; although he taught me about that as well; but the certainty that I was seen, known, and cherished. He showed me that I am an artist. You are an artist too. "Second, I am old, I have cancer, and I will die. Not today, and hopefully not tomorrow, but soon. And that is okay; we all die. I have lived a good life. And when I do, I hope that Phillip will be waiting for me with a glass of chilled white wine and his beautiful smile. My art may linger for a while once I am gone but, eventually, it too will be lost. "Third, the world is full of bastards. Your brother tells me that you and he are both bastards. I will tell you a secret that I have shared with very few people; I am a bastard too. "My mother was beautiful but poor. Her parents lost everything during the Great Depression, and she worked as a housemaid for a rich and powerful man to support her family. When she fell pregnant, he put her out on the street and refused to recognize her child, his daughter; me. Because of his rejection, I spent too many years steeped in shame and self-loathing. But eventually, I learned a hard truth; my father was a bastard by choice, while I was a bastard by birth. And those of us who are bastards by birth must never let the bastards by choice win. "Come inside when you're ready. I'm too old and it's too cold for me to stand here waiting for you." With that, Wilma turned and slowly made her way back to the house. Surprisingly, after a minute, Mary followed. When they reached the door, Wilma turned to look back at me. "It's time for you boys to go fishing. There is a warm breeze off the lake that will bring you good luck." Lane and I made our way down the hill to the dock in silence, our fishing rods, ice chest, and tackle box in hand. Unlike a seasonal dock that would be taken out of the lake each fall, Wilma's dock could be used year-round and was built with heavy timbers and steel bracing, so it could withstand the crushing force of the winter's ice. When we reached the dock, we felt the warm wind that Wilma had promised, and we chose our lures and began to cast. After a half hour of fishing, Lane broke the silence. "Do you think it's my fault?" "Do I think what's your fault, Bud?" "That mom left us. That she never came back. Do you think it's my fault?" I sighed as I thought about my answer. "No. It's not your fault. It's no one's fault, really, maybe not even hers. It's funny though, she brought some amazing people into this world. I wish she could have seen how incredible you and your sisters have turned out. But she made her choice, and that's on her, not you." Lane thought about my answer before he continued. "But you would be better off without me. Sharon would have more time to study for the scholarship she will need to get away from here. I try to be nice to Mary, to make her feel better, but I just seem to make things worse for her as well. And I see how hard you work to keep our family together. I feel like you would all be better off without me. If I weren't here, maybe Mom would come back home." I took a deep breath and tried to push down the anger that threatened to overwhelm me; anger at my mother for abandoning us, anger at myself for never being enough, and anger at a world that would leave my brother feeling like it would be better off if he didn't exist. I felt the wind off the lake as it blew across my face, drying my unshed tears before they were formed. As I was wondering how to unbreak my brother's heart, a particularly strong gust of wind blew through and Lane's fishing rod bent into a deep arc, the tip dancing wildly as a fish fought against the line. "Dad! Help;" The drag clicked furiously as the fish pulled line, as Lane fought to keep his rod tip up. I quickly set my rod aside and braced him, my hands held loosely beside his as he fought to reel in his catch. We worked together for what seemed like an eternity before he finally fought his fish to the side of the dock. I grabbed the net and saw that he had hooked a steelhead trout that was easily two feet long and must have weighed at least eight pounds if not more. It was a wonder the drag held steady, and his line didn't break during the fight. As I scooped up his catch, the steelhead's silver sides shimmered like polished chrome in the fading light, and it was so big that it took up over half the ice chest I had brought along to store our catch. Lane was flushed with excitement at landing such an impressive fish, and I was so proud of him that my heart almost ached. "Nice work, Son." He just looked up at me for a moment before throwing his arms around me in a hug. In the time since our mother left, he had never called me by anything other than my name. I never tried to be his dad; I didn't think I was qualified, but I guess that all of us need someone in our lives who will love us without conditions or end. "Never think that you're a burden on me or the family. Maybe you need a bit more from us right now than you can give back, but that's alright. Because sixty years from now, when I am old and can't wipe my ass anymore, you are going to be paying me back in spades, alright?" With that, we went back to fishing in companionable silence. I pulled in a few smaller ones, but nothing to match Lane's steelhead. A few hours later, the wind had picked up and it was getting colder, so we packed up our equipment and made our way back toward the house. Halfway down the dock, however, a huge gust of wind swept through, and I heard a cry followed by a loud splash. Turning back, I saw that Lane's foot had slipped through a broken slat, and he had fallen off the dock. Without thinking, I dropped the ice box and rods and jumped into the water to help him. When I got him to shore, he couldn't put any weight on his ankle, and any efforts to do so were met with cries of pain. I quickly collected our discarded fishing gear and set it to one side, before helping him to slowly make his way back up the hill. The November chill quickly took hold of us as we walked, plastering our damp clothing to our skin, and we were shivering uncontrollably by the time we reached the house. I knocked but it took a minute for Wilma and Mary to come out from the studio at the back of the house. "I am sorry to cut things short, but Lane had an accident down at the dock and he sprained or maybe even broke his ankle. I am going to have to take him to the hospital in Petoskey to get it looked at before it swells up any further." Wilma looked at me with concern. "Maybe you should hold off at least for a little while. My granddaughter, Erin, the pediatrician, is coming for dinner tonight and should be here any minute. Why don't we let her take a look at it before you head into town? And let's get you out of those clothes; you must be freezing. I still have some of Phillip's things in the closet that might fit you." A few minutes later, I had changed into a pair of comfortable but slightly musty-smelling pants, with a warm sweater over a well-worn collared shirt. I was both taller and wider than Phillip had been, at least in the twilight of his years, so the pants were a bit short, while the sweater was tight across my shoulders. While I changed, Mary and Wilma had set Lane up on the couch with his ankle elevated on some pillows. I helped him change out of his wet clothing and into an old sweatshirt and shorts that fit over his swollen ankle. Once Lane was settled, Wilma and I talked quietly in the kitchen. "It's getting late, and you must be getting hungry, but I don't think I have enough to feed everyone." I thought for a moment. "We may be in luck. Lane caught the biggest steelhead I have ever seen earlier this afternoon, but I left it down by the dock after the accident. If you have a few potatoes and maybe a veg or two, I am sure I can whip something up that would feed us all." Wilma looked at me with a sly smile. "He cooks, he plumbs, and he cares for his family, all while cutting a dashing figure in my late husband's favorite sweater. You, Mr. Crawford, are a catch." "I am not sure about that, Wilma," I replied with a laugh, "But either way, this catch had better go and get our earlier catch, so I can get started on dinner." It took me almost half an hour to collect our fishing gear and bring it back up to the truck. By the time I was done, an older SUV was parked behind my truck, which meant that Erin had arrived. After I loaded the gear, I used the fishing knife and stained plastic cutting board that I kept in a bin under the back seat to clean and filet the steelhead before heading inside. From the doorway, I could see a head of sandy-blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail sticking up from the far side of the couch, and I heard a calm and melodic voice talking to Lane while Wilma and Mary looked on. I was so lost in that voice that I almost jumped when the latch on the door caught behind me. The head of sandy-blonde hair looked up at the sound, revealing a pair of amber, almost golden eyes. "You must be the father," said that same melodic voice, as those eyes bore their way into my soul. "It's Davis Crawford, and I'm the older brother." "Erin Anderson, nice to meet you. Can you get hold of your parents? We might need to take Lane to the hospital for some X-rays." "No," I replied more harshly than I intended. "No," I tried again, more gently but with an edge to my voice. "Our parents aren't around; I am as close as you're going to get. I am Lane's legal guardian if that helps." There was a slight pause as her amber eyes shifted from surprise to curiosity. "That helps a lot. Why don't you give me 15 minutes or so to take a look at this brave dude's ankle, then we can talk over some options, once I have a better sense of what's going on." "That okay with you, Bud?" I asked as I walked over to the couch. "Yeah, that should be fine," he replied, but his eyes were wide, and his cheeks were flushed. For a moment, I was worried that he might be running a fever, but then I got my first look at Erin, and I understood. Maybe she wasn't classically beautiful like a movie star or swimsuit model, but she was lean and fit, and from what I could see, had more than enough curves in all the right places. It was her face, however, that captured me. She had delicate features accentuated by her high cheekbones, and there was a softness to her expression that spoke of empathy and kindness. Her eyes, though intense, had a warmth that put me instantly at ease. I realized much too late that I had been staring at Erin for an uncomfortably long time while holding the bag of steelhead filets out like some kind of sacrificial offering. While I stood frozen, the look in Erin's beautiful eyes had shifted from curiosity to amusement; I would assume at the fish-carrying simpleton standing in front of her. "Thanks, Dr. Anderson; err, Erin. I appreciate your taking a look at him and; I am going to go cook us up some fish before I make an even bigger ass of myself." Wilma joined me in the kitchen, while Erin continued to assess Lane's injured ankle. We spent the next few minutes dicing the potatoes and veggies and tossing them with some olive oil, salt, and pepper before sprinkling the filets of steelhead with a mixture of herbs. I topped the fish with some slices of a less-than-fresh, but still edible, lemon I found in the fridge, before putting the whole thing in the oven. To be continued in part 2. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts, for Literotica.

Michigan Weather and Women: Part 1 Love, bastards, and what we leave behind. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connected. The Plumber, The Painter, and the Wind off the Lake Prologue I have never been much for following instructions or doing what I'm told. In eighth grade, we were assigned to make a volcano in science class. I figured that if the eruption looked good with a couple of tablespoons of baking soda, then it would look even better with the whole container! And what better place for a natural disaster than the teacher's desk at the front of the class. I was right; the whole container of baking soda produced an impressive explosion. What I didn't count on, however, was it producing a week-long suspension from school and a beating from my mother. In high school, we had to take an art class to graduate. Our teacher loved still life drawing and would ramble endlessly about how it revealed the beauty that is in the everyday objects that surround us. I guess he wanted us to reveal the beauty in the bowl of fruit that he had put in the middle of the classroom, but the most beautiful things that I could see were Brittany Johnson's D-cups which filled out her sweater gloriously. At the end of the class, there were 29 drawings of a bowl of fruit and one drawing of a beautiful girl's smile (amongst other details). Although I was suspended for two days, I got a date with Brittany who loved my drawing, so I feel like I came out ahead on that one. In my last year of school, the final mathematics exam asked the following question: Determine the points of intersection between the following parabolas and lines. Illustrate fully. While the other students slaved away to solve the listed problems in the allotted time, I fully illustrated a drawing of our math teacher, Mr. Aaronson, dancing a slow waltz in a field of sunflowers with Mrs. Stevens, the geography teacher. It was the worst-kept secret in the school that our two shyest teachers had massive crushes on each other, and after four years of watching them pine away, I thought they could use a little push. I failed the test, but Mr. Aaronson showed my drawing to Mrs. Stevens during a particularly dull staff meeting, and when it made her blush and smile, he finally got up the courage to ask her out. They are now married and have a little girl who is as cute as a button. At the end of the year, Mr. Aaronson asked me if I planned to pursue math in the future, and when I assured him that I did not, he gave me a passing grade. So, what was my problem, you might ask? Was I just one of those kids who didn't give a shit and was destined for mediocrity or failure in life? Like many things, the answer is more complicated than it might first appear, but I am getting ahead of myself. Our story starts on an unusually cold and blustery afternoon in late October, on the north-eastern shore of Lake Michigan about a half hour's drive north of Petoskey, just outside a village called Good Hart. Chapter 1. It had been a busy day. The perfect storm of an early season snap freeze, strong winds, and lake-effect snow meant that there was a couple of inches of snow on the still soggy ground, along with a number of leaky or burst pipes, malfunctioning valves, and boiler issues as people cranked their heating systems up to full for the first time that year. As a plumber, though, I didn't mind. It just meant more work for me, which was always a good thing. At only 25 years of age, and despite being a master plumber, I was generally the last choice for folks to call, even in an emergency. Anyone with money chose one of the larger and more established plumbing contractors, leaving me with the jobs that they didn't feel were worth their time or effort. That's how I found myself pulling into the laneway of an older house, just off Lamkin Road down by the lake, late that Friday afternoon. It was my last job of the day, but I would be working over the weekend to catch up on my backlog, so I wanted to get it done. The house looked like it hadn't been updated since it was built, likely in the late fifties or early sixties, other than a couple of coats of paint and a new roof when the original finally gave up the ghost. The front gardens were neatly tended, however, and the property itself was stunning, with panoramic views in three directions out over the lake. The sun was just beginning to dip toward the western horizon as I drove up, so the trees cast long shadows across the laneway. The house was owned by Mrs. Wilma C. Anderson, who had called me earlier in the day to say that some of her radiators weren't working and that her boiler was making one hell of a racket when she turned it on. I told her to shut the system down and that I would look at it by the end of the day. She sounded quite elderly, and I didn't like the idea of her going without heat for a night during a cold snap. I rang the doorbell and waited until a tiny wisp of a woman answered. She couldn't have been more than five feet tall and looked older than the hills, but her face was full of life, and her eyes had a twinkle that spoke of humor and mischief. "Hi, Mrs. Anderson, I'm Davis Crawford. You called earlier about some issues with your boiler and heating system. How can I help?" Mrs. Anderson gave me an appraising look. "I wasn't expecting you to be such a handsome young man. If I were fifty years younger, I would tell you exactly how you could help me, and then I'd teach you a trick or two I learned over the years. But I am too old for that kind of foolishness these days, so I will just have to make use of your plumbing expertise instead. And please, call me Wilma." I couldn't help but laugh and blush at Wilma's surprisingly raunchy sense of humor. I liked her immediately. "Let's try that again. What seems to be the problem?" "Well, the biggest problem is that I am 91 years old and dying of cancer. The doctors give me less than a year to live. But aside from that, I really can't complain. I have had a good run of it." I cocked my head to one side and gave her a bemused look. "Oh, you were wondering what the problem is with my heating system. Well, I turned it on this morning when I got up, and the boiler sounded like there was someone trapped inside of it trying to hammer their way out. There was a worrisome hissing from some of the radiators, as well, and they weren't heating up worth a damn. "My husband, Phillip, used to take care of those things for us, but he has been gone for almost five years now, so I hate to think what you will find when you look around." "I'm sure I can help you, Mrs. Anderson,;" "Wilma, please." "Sorry, Wilma. Why don't you show me to the basement, and I will try to figure out what's wrong. Then I can get started on fixing it." On the way to the basement stairs, Wilma led me through her crowded but orderly living room. I couldn't help but notice the paintings on just about every surface of its walls. "You have a real eye for art, Wilma. Those paintings are beautiful." Wilma smiled wistfully at me and got a faraway look in her eyes as she replied. "Phillip and I were artists. I guess I still am, but I haven't felt much like painting since he passed on. Phillip painted portraits. He made a surprisingly good living at it; you would be amazed at what rich people will pay to see their lives immortalized in oil on canvas. I never had the knack. Phillip could make even the most corpulent and corrupt industrialist appear regal and wise. I could only ever capture what I actually saw in them, and I quickly discovered that they did not enjoy, or pay for, that kind of introspection. "So, I painted landscapes, and there is always a market for those. But I kept some of my favorite pieces, over the years, as you can see." As Wilma spoke, I took a closer look at the paintings. One, in particular, was striking; a portrait of a beautiful young woman, in her late teens or early twenties, with a stethoscope around her neck and her blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. She was wearing a loose hoodie and was curled up in an Adirondack chair, reading a book. It was not what you would expect from a formal portrait, but it seemed to capture her essence in a way that no photograph could match. I must have stopped moving as I was drawn into the image, so Wilma gave me a minute before she continued. "That's the last painting that Phillip worked on before he passed. He didn't get the chance to finish it, but I still think it's his finest work." I couldn't help but agree. "Who's the model? She's beautiful." "That's my granddaughter, Erin. You can't tell from the portrait, but she's a real firecracker. As a grandparent, you're not supposed to play favorites, but she was very special to Phillip, and it hit her hard when he passed. There is more love in that one painting than in all the other portraits that he painted over his lifetime. Except for his first, of course, of me." "Where are Phillips' other works? Surely, they weren't all commissions that are now locked away in some dusty millionaire's palace." Wilma's expression turned bleak as she contemplated her response. "All of his other paintings were sold after he died. The kids said they would fetch a better price while there was an upswing of interest in his work after his death, so they insisted that they all go to auction as quickly as possible. They were probably right, I guess, although I loved his art more than I needed the money. But how do you argue with your kids when they have just lost their father?" "Do any of your children live nearby?" "They all moved far away. Phillip and I chose a wonderful spot to live and make our art, but a challenging place to raise a family. It's not so bad now, what with the internet, highways, and the like, but when we first moved here sixty-some years ago, it was very isolated. We were young and selfish, and our selfishness cost us dearly. "We thought that our children would grow to love this area over time, like we did. But they never did, and they left as soon as they could get away. My daughter, Samantha, is a retired lawyer and she and her third husband split their time between their loft in Manhattan and their beach house in the Bahamas. My son, Robert, is an oil executive down in Texas. Neither of them has been here in more than a decade, except for Phillip's funeral. "My baby, Max, passed away more than twenty years ago now of cancer. Erin is his granddaughter. She is a pediatrician, and she splits her time between the hospital in Petoskey and the children's hospital down in Grand Rapids. She comes to see me when she can, but she is very busy. My other relatives all live busy lives far away from here. We chose to live here, though, so I can't be too upset that the rest of the family chose to live far away. "But enough about me. What about you, Mr. Crawford? Do you have any children?" "It's just me and my siblings, I'm afraid, and it's been that way for quite some time. My oldest sister, Alison, is 20, and she goes to college at North Central Michigan, in Petoskey. She is planning to become a nurse practitioner. The rest of the gang still lives at home with me. Sharon is 17 now, so she kind of runs the show while I am working; Mary is 15 but going on 30, if you know what I mean; and Lane is the baby of the family at 12." "Where are your parents?" "I don't honestly know. We each have a different father, or at least we think we do. Sharon, Lane, and I have no idea who our fathers are, so there's a chance that we might be full siblings, but I doubt it. My mother never kept the same man around for long. Alison's father has been in and out of jail since before she was born and is currently serving a stint in federal prison. But Mary has it the worst of all of us. "My mother met Mary's dad on a weekend bender in Vegas, and he is a pretty big deal. Rich, famous, the kind of guy you see on TV and the cover of magazines. A real family man, except when it comes to Mary, whom he refuses to even acknowledge. He bought my mom's silence with a lump sum payment and a non-disclosure agreement. That money was supposed to be put in a trust for Mary, but my mom snorted and injected it all in less than a year. Mary has written to her father dozens of times and reached out to him on social media countless more, but he wants nothing to do with his bastard daughter. "As for my mom, she went away for the weekend almost seven years ago now and left me in charge. And I am still in charge, I guess. So, no time for dating or romance for me, and I think that I will be just about done with raising kids by the time that Lane goes off to college." Wilma gave me a look filled with more empathy than I had felt in a long time, maybe ever. "Anyway, I should take a look at your boiler and see what I can do about getting you some heat." I would have called the boiler in Wilma's basement old, but that wouldn't have done it justice. Frankly, it wouldn't have seemed out of place in a museum of heating and plumbing, and it was hanging on to life by the barest of threads. With only a year to live, however, I wasn't going to recommend to Wilma that she replace the whole system with something more modern and efficient. "I think I can fix your boiler so that it will hold on for another year or two, and I can patch a couple of leaks in the lines to the main radiators as well. One line to a radiator at the back of the house is completely shot, so I will shut that one off and be back to replace it later this week." "What's all that going to cost?" "It's free of charge, Ma'am. You've got enough to look after with your health and all, without having to worry about your heating system. I never had a grandma to spoil, at least not one that I know of, so it would be my pleasure to do this for you." "Please, it's Wilma. And it's a grandmother's prerogative to spoil her grandchildren, and not the other way around. But your kindness is mighty appreciated, Davis." It took me a couple of hours to shore up the boiler and repair the lines that were still in reasonable condition before I was finished for the day. As I got ready to leave, I found Wilma sitting alone in the living room reading an old paperback. "I'll call you later this week, once the replacement line for your radiator comes in." Wilma got a mischievous smile on her face. "Why, Davis, are you getting fresh with me?" "If I were older and more experienced, I would in an instant. But I hardly think I can compete with the memory of your Phillip." "Too true, too true. Alright young man, well thank you for taking the time to look after a foolish old woman on a cold October night." "I hardly think you're foolish, Wilma, but it's been my pleasure." I didn't get home from Wilma's until well after nine that night, and by the time I pulled into our gravel driveway, I was beat. The dilapidated old yard light mounted on the roof of the garage shone weakly down on the sloppy mix of gravel and mud that was our yard, and I could hear the excited barks of Munchkin, our rescue puppy. He was a mix of German Shepherd and Cane Corso, with some variety of northern dog thrown in, and he was mighty pleased to see me. I'm glad that someone was. I came into our small three-bedroom rental to find Sharon and Lane sitting at the dining room table working on his math homework. I wish that they reacted like Munchkin when they saw me, but Lane just grunted a hello, while Sharon looked up at me with a mixture of sadness and worry. "Mary is out with the McDougal brothers again. They showed up here a half hour ago, I told her not to go with them, but she wouldn't listen." "The McDougal brothers are assholes," was Lane's addition to the conversation, without even looking up from the table. He wasn't wrong. The oldest McDougall brother, Calum, was a couple of years ahead of me at school and was a bully and a braggart. Two of his three brothers had followed in his esteemed footsteps, while the jury was still out on the youngest, James. "I'm going to go get her. Next time that those boys turn up in our yard, let Munchkin lose on them." "Alright, dinner will be in the oven when you get back. Given 'em hell, Bro." The McDougal brothers lived just outside Pellston in the closest thing to a mansion that you could find in our neck of the woods. Their family owned the largest construction and maintenance company in the area and had most of the Public Works contracts sown up, along with a not inconsiderable portion of the private construction in our region as well. Their parents spent most of their time in Sarasota, Florida, though, and the brothers had free rein while they were gone. As I drove up their long, paved driveway, automatic floodlights came on, illuminating the ostentatious columns that flanked the entrance to their house. I parked in front of the nearest bay of their four-car attached garage while noting that there was another three-car garage further off to the right. I idly wondered who got to park in which garage. Rich people problems, I guess. I walked to the front door and let myself in. From the foyer, I could hear the loud thump of music coming from the back of the house, so I headed that way. As I passed through the kitchen, I nearly bumped into James, who was holding a couple of empty serving bowls. He stopped dead when he saw me, looking nervous, clearly not expecting anyone else to be in their house. Certainly not me, anyway. "Hey James, I am here to get my sister. Where is she?" He hesitated a moment before pointing toward the back of the house. "She's in the game room playing pool with the guys. We didn't force her to come here or anything, if that's what you're worried about." "Maybe that's true, James. But you know she is still a minor, and I am her guardian, so I'm going to fetch her and bring her home." James didn't like the sound of that, but I turned my back on him and followed the music to a large, sunken room at the back of the house, which had an expensive-looking pool table in the middle. The remaining McDougal brothers were either playing pool or smoking up on one of the couches that were scattered around the outside of the room. Calum was presiding over the festivities, while the Pistons game was playing on a wall-mounted TV that was bigger than some movie screens. Despite his family's blue-collar roots, Calum looked like an overgrown frat boy, with his preppy clothes and fifty-dollar haircut. Mary was sitting in the middle of one of the couches, with a McDougal brother on one side and one of their hangers-on on the other. She looked somewhere between uncomfortable and scared, but she gave me a defiant scowl. The music stopped, and everyone looked to Calum and then back at me. There was a nervous tension in the air. "Hi Calum, I'm here for my sister." Calum was now in a bit of a spot; he couldn't just let me come into his home and give him orders without losing face with his brothers and their cronies. But he also knew, or at least suspected, that my sister was underage. And then there was always the Pipe Wrench Incident. That always made people nervous to be around me. "That's not my problem. She told my brother that she wanted to party, so she's here to party. No one forced her to come, and she seems to be having a good time." I wondered if all of Calum's dates looked as scared and uncomfortable as Mary did at that moment when they were having a 'good time'. "Well, since she is still a minor and I'm her guardian, it's a bit of a problem. Or it could be. But I don't want to put a damper on your evening, so I'll just bring Mary home with me and we'll call it a night." Calum looked toward James who had just come back into the room with bowls now filled with potato chips. "Is that true, Limp dick? Did you bring an underage girl home to party with us?" James began to sputter before Calum shook his head in disgust. He pointed over at Mary. "Get the fuck out of here, and don't come back until you're sixteen," he said before turning back to me. "And you. Just get the fuck out of our house." It was a silent drive home. Mary refused to even look at me, staring out the window instead. When we pulled into our yard, Munchkin came running up to greet us, and Mary finally spoke. "You didn't need to embarrass me like that. I'm old enough to make my own choices, you know." "The law says you're still a minor. And you'll always be my sister. Those guys are no good, Mary. You know that." "James is different. He isn't like the rest of them." "Maybe that's true, or maybe not. But you don't hang out in a nest of rattlesnakes, just because there is a garter snake in there with them that you think is cute." After a pause and some continued barking from Munchkin, Mary finally looked over at me. "You're not my dad, you know. You can't tell me what to do." And there it was. It always came down to the same thing with Mary; her father's rejection of her. Over the years, it had undermined her self-esteem and destroyed her self-worth to the point where I wondered if they would ever recover. Unfortunately, I was just smart enough to see the problem, but I had no idea how to fix it. A brother's love can only go so far, I guess. "I know, Mary. I know. But I love you, and I am so proud of you, and I just wish that was enough." We sat in silence for another minute before she replied. "I wish it was too." Chapter 2. It took a couple of days for Mrs. Anderson's new radiator line to arrive, and I gave her a call when I went to pick it up. "Hi, Mrs. And; Wilma. I was just picking up the replacement line for your radiator, and I was wondering if you needed anything else from town, while I'm here. I was going to come by and install the line later this afternoon if that works for you." "That's very kind of you, Davis. Would you mind picking up a few groceries for me? I can send the store a list, so they will be ready for you when you get there." A couple of my calls that day took longer than expected, so it was late in the afternoon again by the time I made it to Wilma's place. The early season snow had mostly melted away, and her yard was now a combination of gravel and thick soupy mud that could swallow a tire as easily as it could swallow a boot. "Thank you for picking the groceries up for me, you're too kind." "It was no trouble at all, especially since I was coming out this way anyway. If you don't mind me asking, how do you usually get them?" "I used to have a young man up the way who would help me with groceries and yard work, and other small things, but now I am pretty much on my own." "What happened to him? Did he move away?" "No, he still lives in the same place that he always has, but I am pretty sure that my family paid him more not to help me than I was paying for his assistance." "What? That seems like a crappy thing for them to do to you." Wilma gave a resigned sigh and then offered me a coffee while she told me her story. "I think I told you the last time you were here, that most of my family has moved on from this place, except my granddaughter Erin. The rest of them already have an agreement in place with a developer, the McDougals, to turn this property into a high-end resort for the Fudgies, so they have someplace to spend their money after visiting Mackinac Island." "Fudgies," was what the locals called the tourists from down south who descended on the upper peninsula in the summer. "If you don't mind me asking, just how much land do you own?" "Well, Phillip and I didn't have much to spend our money on over the years, so we bought up many of the nearby properties when they went up for sale. We ended up with at least a quarter mile of land that fronts onto the lake, without even really trying." I let out a low whistle. "That must be worth a small fortune. I can understand your family's interest." "At first, they didn't care if I stayed in the house after Phillip died. They figured that I would follow soon enough. After a few years, however, they started to get impatient, and it's fair to say that they are now actively encouraging me to leave, by foot, by car, or in a box. They have generously offered to put me out to pasture in a warehouse for the old and infirm, though, to await my impending doom. "With my cancer, their wish is finally going to come true. By this time next year, I will be sipping coffee with Phillip in whatever afterlife we atheists get to enjoy. Actually, who am I kidding? If there is an afterlife for Phillip and me, the first thing I'm going to do when I get there is get on my knees, undo his belt buckle, and then show him just how much I've missed him these past five years. Wilma looked a bit startled as if she had just remembered that I was still there. "I'm sorry, Davis. You probably didn't need to hear that last part. I just miss him so much. I still see him in the trees and along the shore, and I sometimes hear his voice in the wind off the lake." "It's all good, Wilma. I just hope that my brother and sisters get to experience the kind of love that you and Phillip had someday." "What about you, Davis? Don't you deserve to experience that kind of love as well?" "Maybe I deserve it, Wilma, but I don't think I am going to find it. It's been tough; real tough, looking after my family all these years. I have done things that I am not proud of, but that needed to be done. I don't regret them; I would do anything to protect the people I love. But I doubt that anyone would be able to love me, once they found out what I've done." "I think you are selling yourself short, Davis. We are all artists, and we are all worthy of love." With that, Wilma offered to top up my coffee before I started replacing the broken line. As the evening's shadows deepened, I saw her watching me with compassion and concern in her eyes. Once I was finished, I felt her hand on my shoulder, and she gave it an empathetic squeeze. "A penny for your thoughts?" I stopped what I was doing and turned to look at her. "It's my sister, Mary. I am losing her. She is so hurt and angry that she is beginning to make bad choices, and I don't know how to help her. I've tried to be her brother, parent, and friend, but I'm failing at all three." Wilma offered no judgment, good or bad. She just listened, and when I finished, she spoke. "Bring her over this Sunday around noon. Tell her to wear some old clothes that she doesn't mind getting dirty. You can come too if you would like and bring your little brother to do some fishing, but Mary will be spending her time with me." It wasn't easy convincing Mary to come to Wilma's. If you have spent time dealing with teenage girls, you know that they can be as stubborn as late-season ice on the lake. In the end, I resorted to threats and bribery to get her onboard, but she assured me that she would hate every minute she was there. Lane came with us as well, with the promise that we could spend the afternoon fishing off the end of Wilma's dock. By the time we arrived, Mary was sullenly glued to the passenger seat and wouldn't look up from her phone. Wilma waited a few minutes for Mary, but she stubbornly refused to leave the truck. Eventually, Wilma pulled on her rubber boots and walked over to the truck. She looked up at Mary and started speaking. "There are three things that I know are true. "The first, I've already shared with your brother. We are all artists because we are all worthy of love. But many of us lose our way. We are hurt and abandoned, and we are buried in shame. I was like that for many years. But my husband, Phillip, found me and taught me what it is to be loved. Not just the physical act; although he taught me about that as well; but the certainty that I was seen, known, and cherished. He showed me that I am an artist. You are an artist too. "Second, I am old, I have cancer, and I will die. Not today, and hopefully not tomorrow, but soon. And that is okay; we all die. I have lived a good life. And when I do, I hope that Phillip will be waiting for me with a glass of chilled white wine and his beautiful smile. My art may linger for a while once I am gone but, eventually, it too will be lost. "Third, the world is full of bastards. Your brother tells me that you and he are both bastards. I will tell you a secret that I have shared with very few people; I am a bastard too. "My mother was beautiful but poor. Her parents lost everything during the Great Depression, and she worked as a housemaid for a rich and powerful man to support her family. When she fell pregnant, he put her out on the street and refused to recognize her child, his daughter; me. Because of his rejection, I spent too many years steeped in shame and self-loathing. But eventually, I learned a hard truth; my father was a bastard by choice, while I was a bastard by birth. And those of us who are bastards by birth must never let the bastards by choice win. "Come inside when you're ready. I'm too old and it's too cold for me to stand here waiting for you." With that, Wilma turned and slowly made her way back to the house. Surprisingly, after a minute, Mary followed. When they reached the door, Wilma turned to look back at me. "It's time for you boys to go fishing. There is a warm breeze off the lake that will bring you good luck." Lane and I made our way down the hill to the dock in silence, our fishing rods, ice chest, and tackle box in hand. Unlike a seasonal dock that would be taken out of the lake each fall, Wilma's dock could be used year-round and was built with heavy timbers and steel bracing, so it could withstand the crushing force of the winter's ice. When we reached the dock, we felt the warm wind that Wilma had promised, and we chose our lures and began to cast. After a half hour of fishing, Lane broke the silence. "Do you think it's my fault?" "Do I think what's your fault, Bud?" "That mom left us. That she never came back. Do you think it's my fault?" I sighed as I thought about my answer. "No. It's not your fault. It's no one's fault, really, maybe not even hers. It's funny though, she brought some amazing people into this world. I wish she could have seen how incredible you and your sisters have turned out. But she made her choice, and that's on her, not you." Lane thought about my answer before he continued. "But you would be better off without me. Sharon would have more time to study for the scholarship she will need to get away from here. I try to be nice to Mary, to make her feel better, but I just seem to make things worse for her as well. And I see how hard you work to keep our family together. I feel like you would all be better off without me. If I weren't here, maybe Mom would come back home." I took a deep breath and tried to push down the anger that threatened to overwhelm me; anger at my mother for abandoning us, anger at myself for never being enough, and anger at a world that would leave my brother feeling like it would be better off if he didn't exist. I felt the wind off the lake as it blew across my face, drying my unshed tears before they were formed. As I was wondering how to unbreak my brother's heart, a particularly strong gust of wind blew through and Lane's fishing rod bent into a deep arc, the tip dancing wildly as a fish fought against the line. "Dad! Help;" The drag clicked furiously as the fish pulled line, as Lane fought to keep his rod tip up. I quickly set my rod aside and braced him, my hands held loosely beside his as he fought to reel in his catch. We worked together for what seemed like an eternity before he finally fought his fish to the side of the dock. I grabbed the net and saw that he had hooked a steelhead trout that was easily two feet long and must have weighed at least eight pounds if not more. It was a wonder the drag held steady, and his line didn't break during the fight. As I scooped up his catch, the steelhead's silver sides shimmered like polished chrome in the fading light, and it was so big that it took up over half the ice chest I had brought along to store our catch. Lane was flushed with excitement at landing such an impressive fish, and I was so proud of him that my heart almost ached. "Nice work, Son." He just looked up at me for a moment before throwing his arms around me in a hug. In the time since our mother left, he had never called me by anything other than my name. I never tried to be his dad; I didn't think I was qualified, but I guess that all of us need someone in our lives who will love us without conditions or end. "Never think that you're a burden on me or the family. Maybe you need a bit more from us right now than you can give back, but that's alright. Because sixty years from now, when I am old and can't wipe my ass anymore, you are going to be paying me back in spades, alright?" With that, we went back to fishing in companionable silence. I pulled in a few smaller ones, but nothing to match Lane's steelhead. A few hours later, the wind had picked up and it was getting colder, so we packed up our equipment and made our way back toward the house. Halfway down the dock, however, a huge gust of wind swept through, and I heard a cry followed by a loud splash. Turning back, I saw that Lane's foot had slipped through a broken slat, and he had fallen off the dock. Without thinking, I dropped the ice box and rods and jumped into the water to help him. When I got him to shore, he couldn't put any weight on his ankle, and any efforts to do so were met with cries of pain. I quickly collected our discarded fishing gear and set it to one side, before helping him to slowly make his way back up the hill. The November chill quickly took hold of us as we walked, plastering our damp clothing to our skin, and we were shivering uncontrollably by the time we reached the house. I knocked but it took a minute for Wilma and Mary to come out from the studio at the back of the house. "I am sorry to cut things short, but Lane had an accident down at the dock and he sprained or maybe even broke his ankle. I am going to have to take him to the hospital in Petoskey to get it looked at before it swells up any further." Wilma looked at me with concern. "Maybe you should hold off at least for a little while. My granddaughter, Erin, the pediatrician, is coming for dinner tonight and should be here any minute. Why don't we let her take a look at it before you head into town? And let's get you out of those clothes; you must be freezing. I still have some of Phillip's things in the closet that might fit you." A few minutes later, I had changed into a pair of comfortable but slightly musty-smelling pants, with a warm sweater over a well-worn collared shirt. I was both taller and wider than Phillip had been, at least in the twilight of his years, so the pants were a bit short, while the sweater was tight across my shoulders. While I changed, Mary and Wilma had set Lane up on the couch with his ankle elevated on some pillows. I helped him change out of his wet clothing and into an old sweatshirt and shorts that fit over his swollen ankle. Once Lane was settled, Wilma and I talked quietly in the kitchen. "It's getting late, and you must be getting hungry, but I don't think I have enough to feed everyone." I thought for a moment. "We may be in luck. Lane caught the biggest steelhead I have ever seen earlier this afternoon, but I left it down by the dock after the accident. If you have a few potatoes and maybe a veg or two, I am sure I can whip something up that would feed us all." Wilma looked at me with a sly smile. "He cooks, he plumbs, and he cares for his family, all while cutting a dashing figure in my late husband's favorite sweater. You, Mr. Crawford, are a catch." "I am not sure about that, Wilma," I replied with a laugh, "But either way, this catch had better go and get our earlier catch, so I can get started on dinner." It took me almost half an hour to collect our fishing gear and bring it back up to the truck. By the time I was done, an older SUV was parked behind my truck, which meant that Erin had arrived. After I loaded the gear, I used the fishing knife and stained plastic cutting board that I kept in a bin under the back seat to clean and filet the steelhead before heading inside. From the doorway, I could see a head of sandy-blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail sticking up from the far side of the couch, and I heard a calm and melodic voice talking to Lane while Wilma and Mary looked on. I was so lost in that voice that I almost jumped when the latch on the door caught behind me. The head of sandy-blonde hair looked up at the sound, revealing a pair of amber, almost golden eyes. "You must be the father," said that same melodic voice, as those eyes bore their way into my soul. "It's Davis Crawford, and I'm the older brother." "Erin Anderson, nice to meet you. Can you get hold of your parents? We might need to take Lane to the hospital for some X-rays." "No," I replied more harshly than I intended. "No," I tried again, more gently but with an edge to my voice. "Our parents aren't around; I am as close as you're going to get. I am Lane's legal guardian if that helps." There was a slight pause as her amber eyes shifted from surprise to curiosity. "That helps a lot. Why don't you give me 15 minutes or so to take a look at this brave dude's ankle, then we can talk over some options, once I have a better sense of what's going on." "That okay with you, Bud?" I asked as I walked over to the couch. "Yeah, that should be fine," he replied, but his eyes were wide, and his cheeks were flushed. For a moment, I was worried that he might be running a fever, but then I got my first look at Erin, and I understood. Maybe she wasn't classically beautiful like a movie star or swimsuit model, but she was lean and fit, and from what I could see, had more than enough curves in all the right places. It was her face, however, that captured me. She had delicate features accentuated by her high cheekbones, and there was a softness to her expression that spoke of empathy and kindness. Her eyes, though intense, had a warmth that put me instantly at ease. I realized much too late that I had been staring at Erin for an uncomfortably long time while holding the bag of steelhead filets out like some kind of sacrificial offering. While I stood frozen, the look in Erin's beautiful eyes had shifted from curiosity to amusement; I would assume at the fish-carrying simpleton standing in front of her. "Thanks, Dr. Anderson; err, Erin. I appreciate your taking a look at him and; I am going to go cook us up some fish before I make an even bigger ass of myself." Wilma joined me in the kitchen, while Erin continued to assess Lane's injured ankle. We spent the next few minutes dicing the potatoes and veggies and tossing them with some olive oil, salt, and pepper before sprinkling the filets of steelhead with a mixture of herbs. I topped the fish with some slices of a less-than-fresh, but still edible, lemon I found in the fridge, before putting the whole thing in the oven. To be continued in part 2. Based on a post by CleverGenericName, in 4 parts, for Literotica.

Welcome to Mysteries to Die For.I am TG Wolff and I'm here with Jack, my piano player and producer. This is a podcast where we combine storytelling with original music to put you in the heart of a mystery. All stories are structured to challenge you to beat the detective to the solution. Jack and I perform these live, front to back, no breaks, no fakes, no retakes.Our social media is alive and kicking. Check out Instagram @mysteriestodiefor (all spelled out) and on Facebook @m2d4podcast for the pulse on the shows happenings. And explore our website, M2D4Podcast.com for all our episodes and authors.The rules for law and order create the boundaries for civil co-existence and, ideally, the backdrops for individuals, families, and companies to grow and thrive. Breaking these rules puts civil order at risk. And while murder is the Big Daddy of crimes, codified ordinances across municipal divisions, counties, states, and countries show the nearly endless ways there are to create mayhem. This season, we put our detective skills to the test. This is Season 8, Anything but Murder. This is Episode 23, something is the featured crime. This is Detective Connolly Gets Filmed in 4K by Jack WolffWell, Connolly's gotten himself into another fine mess. He knows Danny Slaw is the bad guy…but what's his crime?Kidnapping, 'cause there's a missing personSmuggling, 'cause there's a tunnelMenacing, 'cause there's a creepy houseCoercion, 'cause something's scaring SilvaConspiracy, 'cause Danny isn't working aloneHere's what Connolly (thinks) he knows:Husband and father Marvin Young disappeared from Mackinac Island. He was last seen going into an abandoned house after an argument with his wife. Recently, there have been Marvin sightings. Locals think it's his ghost.Marvin had a good friend, Jenna, who worked on the docks. She left Mackinac shortly after Marvin disappeared, and showed up in Montana.Deputy Dippersby shared the file with Connolly. Dorthy called Shaw to let him know Connolly was investigating.Almost a year after Marvin disappeared, Danny Shaw arrived on the island with a grant to make a documentary about Marvin.Silva Young admits to arguing with Marvin. He wanted to turn their spare bedroom into an art studio while she wanted it for soon-to-come baby.In the old house, Connolly is warned against going into the basement because Deputy Dippersby said it could collapse. Connolly discovers a tunnel in the basement. When he investigates, Shaw locks him in. It leads to a harbor.Turn up the collar on your trenchcoat and decide: What do we collar Shaw for?ABOUT Jack WolffJack Wolff is a Ball State University student studying Media Production and Music Recording. He has been podcasting for five years now, and has written a number of short stories for the Mysteries To Die For show. When he's not podcasting, he is teaching marching percussion to high schoolers, writing and shooting films for his own enjoyment, or playing with his psychopathic border collie puppy. You can follow him on instagram at @wackjolff, that's jack wolff with the first letters of his first and last name flipped around, or if you are bored and want to email with him, don't worry, he's bored too, and can be found at j-w-i-l-d-e-317@gmail.com, that's jwilde317@gmail.com. On January 9, Season 9 Stuff That Can Kill You begins dropping. It will be all about the weapons but not trite guns and knives. We're talking about murders done using gravity, motion, mechanical, electrical, pressure, sound, radiation, biological, chemical, and temperature. Be sure to join in … it's gonna get messyWRAP UPThat wraps this episode of Mysteries to Die For. Support our show by subscribing, telling a mystery lover about us, and giving us a five-star review. Check out our NEW...

We head back to our beloved Mackinac Island this week, for our annual holiday show with our friends from Original Murdick's Fudge, and more.  We know how curious people are about what life is like on the island during the off-season. We know because we are also super interested in winter on Mackinac, we think it's the most incredible time to visit if you are able. Andrew Doud was born and raised on the island, and is now raising his three sons there, along with his wife Nicole. They talk about what that is like, plus what is happenig at Doud's Market, the oldest continuosly run, family owned grocery store in the country. Nicole shares that her charming little gift shop is open online year-round, and we think it's the prefect place to find unique gifts that fairly scream Michigan and Mackinac. Bobby Benser then joins John to talk all about how you can ship a taste of Michigan this holiday season direct from the island to practically anywhere. Original Murdick's is known for using all Pure Michigan ingredients, from sugar to butter, which all still gets delivered by horse drawn dray to the store every day. The fudge, and all the other goodies including peanut brittle and caramel corn, are made fresh every day by the talented team of fudge makers, and then shipped directly out, all in time for the holidays. We can't stress enough what an incredible gift this is, your friends and family will love it....and you.Our good friend Brian Bailey stops by and we always love to hear what he has to say. As the long-time general manager for multiple island properties, including the Lilac Tree Suites, Chippewa Hotel and the Pink Pony, he's got an awesome perspecitive on things on the island. He and his wife Jeri-Lyn live on the island year-round, and Brian discusses the fun that is the holiday bazaar, as well as other winter activities residents participate in. Finally, Susan Wilcox Olson from Grand Bay Promotions visits, she is also a long-time former resident of Mackinac, and tells us what she loves about the island. She also shares just how Murdick's produces all this fudge each year, and shrares the featured flavors for this year, including the very yummy maple fudge that Murdick's is highlighting this season to help shed light on our Northern Michigan maple syrup farmers who suffered devastating losses after the ice storm last year. Ordering for Murdick's fudge, and all of their other delicious Pure Michigan treats is open until December 21.Follow along on all of our adventures at: AmyandGonzo.com

This week, I am interviewing a couple who has been RVing for nearly five years, and they have some great advice on ways people and companies can help make the RV lifestyle more inviting to all people. Vicky Childers and Lamont Landrum have been RVing for nearly five years after deciding they wanted to build a different kind of life together. When they first started dating, both felt the pull to travel. Vicky was already working remotely and Lamont wanted to find a way to see more of the world. They bought their first RV in 2019 and hit the road without even knowing Workamping existed. When the pandemic brought Lamont's handyman business to a halt, they discovered Workamping through friends and realized it was the perfect way for him to work while they traveled. Since then, they have held a variety of jobs across the country. Lamont's early positions included maintenance work at Buffalo Bill Village in Cody, Wyo., followed by multiple seasons at the beet harvest, which later promoted him to assistant foreman. He has also done volunteer work and boardwalk support at an Audubon preserve in Florida, maintenance and infrastructure upgrades in Texas, site support on Mackinac Island in Michigan, camp hosting in Colorado, and even served as an area manager for a campground company. Along the way, they upgraded their RV, explored new regions, and built a lifestyle centered on adventure, discovery and meaningful work. They shared what they love about this lifestyle, including the chance to live in beautiful locations for entire seasons, explore mountains, coastlines and national treasures at their own pace. Doing so allows them to enjoy a sense of freedom that traditional jobs rarely allow. Lamont also emphasized how rewarding it has been to work for employers who recognize effort and integrity. That's especially true during the beet harvest, where his hard work led to increasing responsibilities year after year. Vicky and Lamont also spoke about how Workamping can be made more inviting to minorities, especially people who may not see themselves represented in outdoor spaces. They noted that many people simply don't know this lifestyle is an option or doubt they would be welcomed. Lamont and Vicky suggested that employers and the industry can reach more people by helping newcomers “dip their toes in” to the Workamping lifestyle. They can do that in several ways, such as: Offering employee housing instead of requiring everyone to have an RV. Creating opportunities for people to simply visit campgrounds and ask questions. Sharing stories showing that most travelers are welcoming and supportive. They stressed that negative encounters do happen, but they are rare. The overwhelming majority of places they have visited have been friendly and accepting. If you would like to connect with Vicky and Lamont, you can find Vicky on Facebook and Instagram under the name Victoria Childers. That's all for this week's show. Would you like to be featured in an upcoming episode of The Workamper Show? I encourage you to schedule an interview with me at workampershow.com. We'd love to hear about your Workamping experiences, how you got started RVing, and what you love and dislike about the RVing lifestyle. Help others explore all the different ways to live this great lifestyle by sharing your story. If you are an employer of Workampers,we invite you to be on the podcast, too. Share all of the details of your Workamping jobs in a future episode. It only costs a little bit of your time. Schedule an interview with me today by going to workampershow.com. You'll find the schedule buttons at the bottom of the home page. I will have another fun interview on the next episode of The Workamper Show. Thanks for listening!

This week, I am interviewing a couple who has been RVing for nearly five years, and they have some great advice on ways people and companies can help make the RV lifestyle more inviting to all people. Vicky Childers and Lamont Landrum have been RVing for nearly five years after deciding they wanted to build a different kind of life together. When they first started dating, both felt the pull to travel. Vicky was already working remotely and Lamont wanted to find a way to see more of the world. They bought their first RV in 2019 and hit the road without even knowing Workamping existed. When the pandemic brought Lamont's handyman business to a halt, they discovered Workamping through friends and realized it was the perfect way for him to work while they traveled. Since then, they have held a variety of jobs across the country. Lamont's early positions included maintenance work at Buffalo Bill Village in Cody, Wyo., followed by multiple seasons at the beet harvest, which later promoted him to assistant foreman. He has also done volunteer work and boardwalk support at an Audubon preserve in Florida, maintenance and infrastructure upgrades in Texas, site support on Mackinac Island in Michigan, camp hosting in Colorado, and even served as an area manager for a campground company. Along the way, they upgraded their RV, explored new regions, and built a lifestyle centered on adventure, discovery and meaningful work. They shared what they love about this lifestyle, including the chance to live in beautiful locations for entire seasons, explore mountains, coastlines and national treasures at their own pace. Doing so allows them to enjoy a sense of freedom that traditional jobs rarely allow. Lamont also emphasized how rewarding it has been to work for employers who recognize effort and integrity. That's especially true during the beet harvest, where his hard work led to increasing responsibilities year after year. Vicky and Lamont also spoke about how Workamping can be made more inviting to minorities, especially people who may not see themselves represented in outdoor spaces. They noted that many people simply don't know this lifestyle is an option or doubt they would be welcomed. Lamont and Vicky suggested that employers and the industry can reach more people by helping newcomers “dip their toes in” to the Workamping lifestyle. They can do that in several ways, such as: Offering employee housing instead of requiring everyone to have an RV. Creating opportunities for people to simply visit campgrounds and ask questions. Sharing stories showing that most travelers are welcoming and supportive. They stressed that negative encounters do happen, but they are rare. The overwhelming majority of places they have visited have been friendly and accepting. If you would like to connect with Vicky and Lamont, you can find Vicky on Facebook and Instagram under the name Victoria Childers. That's all for this week's show. Would you like to be featured in an upcoming episode of The Workamper Show? I encourage you to schedule an interview with me at workampershow.com. We'd love to hear about your Workamping experiences, how you got started RVing, and what you love and dislike about the RVing lifestyle. Help others explore all the different ways to live this great lifestyle by sharing your story. If you are an employer of Workampers,we invite you to be on the podcast, too. Share all of the details of your Workamping jobs in a future episode. It only costs a little bit of your time. Schedule an interview with me today by going to workampershow.com. You'll find the schedule buttons at the bottom of the home page. I will have another fun interview on the next episode of The Workamper Show. Thanks for listening!

Amy Sherman previews this weekend's Behind the Mitten radio show, which is all about Original Murdick's Fudge and life in wintertime on Mackinac Island.In fact, you can pre-order your holiday gifts and send an unforgettable taste of Mackinac Island to friends, family and clients - NOW! Choose from crunchy caramel corn, old-fashioned salt water taffy or buttery brittle — including the seasonal favorite, Holiday Brittle, which is loaded with Michigan sweet cherries, fresh peanuts, cashews, and pecans. CLICK HERE to save for orders before Dec. 3.Amy shares BTM's adventures on the WILS Morning Wake Up Show in Lansing with host Mike Austin, who created Amy's verry own theme song.Listen to Behind the Mitten this weekend on 22 radio affiliates across the state at amyandgonzo.com.

This week we share some great holiday gifts you can give from the Mitten, because who wouldn't want a bit of Michigan this season? We visit with our good friend Charlie Olson from Grand Bay Promotions, who shares a few of his favorite Michigan-made gifts to give this season, including our favorite, Original Murdick's Fudge. Fun flavored oils and vinegars from Fustini's ship like a dream and can make anyone a chef. One very unique idea from Charlie? A round of golf at the historic Wawashtemo Golf Course on Mackinac Island where his dad Chuck is the golf pro. We'll talk to Mike Laing about this newly released wine, their CCS Cuvée 1. They describe it as a "love letter to Detroit art and the people who make it." This stunner of a sparkling wine from our friends at MAWBY Winery is as delicious as it is beautiful, and with a great story to boot.From Mawby:Born from a partnership with the College for Creative Studies, this bottle began in the classroom and took shape in our cellar. Students developed label concepts for a special-edition MAWBY sparkling wine, gaining real-world experience; the project also funds scholarships through CCS to support the next generation of artists.As makers, we've stood with the arts for more than 50 years, and we hope wine lovers and art lovers find common ground in this collaboration.The winning label by CCS student Olivia Plochocki captures a city in bloom. We followed its lead and finished this brut cuvée with a botanically inspired dosage. Using locally grown Yarrow, Lemon Verbena, and Elderflower, we built a balance of herbal, floral, and citrus aromas and flavors. On the nose: yarrow and lemon verbena mingle with undertones of elderflower and a hint of mint. The palate reflects those botanical notes, lifted by bright flavors of lime zest, muddled lemon, and Asian pear. A touch of white pepper adds gentle warmth, extending the finish and allowing the herbal character to pleasantly linger.Have you heard about the power of pie? It's a true story from our friends at Grand Traverse Pie Company. And as owner Mike Busley tells us, they make totally incredible pies, first and foremost. Using Pure Michigan ingredients, each pie is made by hand by their talented bakers for maximum delight. GT Pie is also all about what pie can do, whether it acts as a way for people to come together or as a vehicle to allow the Busley family to give back to our Michigan communities in so many ways.With multiple locations throughout Michigan, you can always just stop in to grab a pie, or a slice, to go. Also amazing? They'll ship these beauties to wherever you'd like them to go, so your friends and family can understand you when you say Michigan fruits make the best pies.This year, be sure to check out the chocolate bourbon pecan pie featuring Iron Fish Distillery, the perfect partnership of two awesome family-owned Michigan businesses.We hope that you'll choose Michigan this holiday season, and spread some Mitten love around.

In this episode of “Mike Dell’s World,” Mike Dell explores various airports located north of Traverse City, Michigan. He begins the show by introducing himself and referencing the previous episode about flight schools and aviation-related topics in the area. He explains that he will be discussing other airports he has flown to or has connections with, utilizing ForeFlight, an electronic flight bag, for reference. Mike starts with Antrim County Airport (KACB), located northeast of Traverse City near Bellaire. He describes it as a small airport without a control tower in class E airspace, where pilots announce their locations on a common traffic frequency. He shares his experiences doing touch-and-go landings, low passes for practice, and highlights the airport’s amenities, including fuel services and a comfortable lounge. Next, he moves further north to Pellston Airport, noting its significance as an airport with scheduled airline service and a restaurant on-site, which he humorously labels a “hundred dollar hamburger” destination. He continues to mention Charlevoix Airport, which hosts Island Airways that services Beaver Island. He details the two airports on Beaver Island but admits he has not landed there. Mike then discusses Gaylord Regional Airport and Gaylord Airport, emphasizing their runway lengths and his experiences landing there. He contrasts this with Kalkaska City Airport, where he recalls the challenges of landing on a narrower runway. He also talks about Frankfurt Airport, sharing similar landing difficulties due to its relatively short and narrow runway. He proceeds to describe Manistee County Airport, known for its changing airlines and essential air service. He mentions Cadillac Wexford County Airport, highlighting a unique grass runway formerly used for gliders, which is no longer operational. He shares experiences of flying over various other airports like Mackinac Island and Saint Ignace, where approaches involve over-water flights. Mike mentions historic Acme Skyport Airport, which has been revived, and Thompsonville Airport, where he had an ultralight flying experience. He also reflects on Wertz Smith Airport, once a large military base with a long runway, describing his future intentions to visit. Throughout the episode, Mike humorously shares insights about his experiences at these airports, including the challenges of landing, the uniqueness of each location, and the importance of navigating various airspaces, especially concerning military operation areas. He concludes the episode by teasing that his next episode will cover his memories of the Blizzard of ’78 as a twelve-year-old.

In this episode of “Mike Dell’s World,” Mike Dell explores various airports located north of Traverse City, Michigan. He begins the show by introducing himself and referencing the previous episode about flight schools and aviation-related topics in the area. He explains that he will be discussing other airports he has flown to or has connections with, utilizing ForeFlight, an electronic flight bag, for reference. Mike starts with Antrim County Airport (KACB), located northeast of Traverse City near Bellaire. He describes it as a small airport without a control tower in class E airspace, where pilots announce their locations on a common traffic frequency. He shares his experiences doing touch-and-go landings, low passes for practice, and highlights the airport’s amenities, including fuel services and a comfortable lounge. Next, he moves further north to Pellston Airport, noting its significance as an airport with scheduled airline service and a restaurant on-site, which he humorously labels a “hundred dollar hamburger” destination. He continues to mention Charlevoix Airport, which hosts Island Airways that services Beaver Island. He details the two airports on Beaver Island but admits he has not landed there. Mike then discusses Gaylord Regional Airport and Gaylord Airport, emphasizing their runway lengths and his experiences landing there. He contrasts this with Kalkaska City Airport, where he recalls the challenges of landing on a narrower runway. He also talks about Frankfurt Airport, sharing similar landing difficulties due to its relatively short and narrow runway. He proceeds to describe Manistee County Airport, known for its changing airlines and essential air service. He mentions Cadillac Wexford County Airport, highlighting a unique grass runway formerly used for gliders, which is no longer operational. He shares experiences of flying over various other airports like Mackinac Island and Saint Ignace, where approaches involve over-water flights. Mike mentions historic Acme Skyport Airport, which has been revived, and Thompsonville Airport, where he had an ultralight flying experience. He also reflects on Wertz Smith Airport, once a large military base with a long runway, describing his future intentions to visit. Throughout the episode, Mike humorously shares insights about his experiences at these airports, including the challenges of landing, the uniqueness of each location, and the importance of navigating various airspaces, especially concerning military operation areas. He concludes the episode by teasing that his next episode will cover his memories of the Blizzard of ’78 as a twelve-year-old.

Cassandra Schmoll joined Wake Up Tri-Counties to talk about the Senior Center Cookie Fundraiser, Medicare Part D open enrollment, 2026 trips, home-delivered meals, weekly lunch, Tuesday dinner, and Cinnamon Roll Fridays. Enrollment for Medicare Part D is underway at the Henry County Senior Center, with the deadline coming up on December 7th. Staff are on hand to help residents compare plans—just bring your list of prescriptions for a free review that could save you money. The Senior Center is also launching a cookie kit fundraiser to support its home-delivered meal program; orders are open to all ages and needed by December 5th. Upcoming events for 2026 include trips to the Parade of Nations, Mount Rushmore, Mackinac Island, and Branson. For meals and more, call 309-853-8831. The Henry County Senior Citizens Center in Kewanee offers lunch at the center and delivers lunch to people in Henry County who are unable to leave their homes. The local community center offers nutritious lunches every weekday and a hearty supper on Tuesday evenings, with a modest suggested donation making it accessible to everyone over 60. Friday mornings feature homemade cinnamon rolls and coffee, creating a cozy start to the day. Beyond these gatherings, the program extends its reach with home-delivered meals, ensuring that seniors in Geneseo, Atkinson, Annawan, Cambridge, Orion, Kewanee, and Galva are not left out. For more details or to contribute to this cause, community members are encouraged to reach out to the center at 309-853-8831. They release a monthly menu on their Facebook and web pages. A suggested donation for the weekday noon lunch is $3.75, for the Tuesday night supper at 5 PM is $4.75, for Friday morning cinnamon rolls from 8 to 10:30 AM is $1, and for the meal delivery service is $4. A big fundraiser for the year for the Henry County Senior Citizens Center is underway, offering Christmas cookie decoration kits for $15 each. Each kit features a dozen cut-out cookies, three colorful frosting varieties, and an assortment of sprinkles, perfect for seasonal creativity. Orders are being accepted now through December 5th, with a scheduled pickup date of December 22nd, between 8 AM and 2 PM. Supporters are encouraged to participate and spread holiday cheer while contributing to a good cause. Organizers note that quantities are limited, so early reservations are recommended. Whether gifting to friends or enjoying at home, the kits promise fun and flavor for all ages. Contact the senior center at 309-853-8831 to order or for more information. The Medicare Annual Enrollment Period kicks off on October 15, 2025, offering a chance for Medicare recipients and those soon eligible to review and update their coverage. Everyone is encouraged to assess their Medicare Part D and Medicare Advantage plans to ensure the best fit for their healthcare needs. The Henry County Senior Citizens organization is providing free assistance to help individuals navigate their policy choices and select the most suitable Medicare Part D plan. Appointments can be made by calling 309-853-8831, but availability is limited as slots are filling quickly. Don't miss out on this essential opportunity.

Episode 199: The Best Family Thanksgiving Getaways in the U.S. Hosts: Rob & Traci Release Date: November 2025 When you think Thanksgiving, you probably picture turkey, football, and the Macy's Parade—but what if your family celebrated somewhere new? In Episode 199, Rob and Traci explore America's best Thanksgiving destinations—from mountain towns and colonial villages to rivers lined with glowing holiday lights. Whether you want cozy, coastal, or full-on festive, this episode is stuffed with ideas for a holiday you'll truly be thankful for (and yes, the dad jokes are fully baked).

Welcome to the Fore Golfers Network/Michigan Golf Live Podcast Ep 502 - Mackinac Island's Hidden Gems: Wawashkamo Golf Club and  The Inn at Stonecliffe Our Travel Series continues with a special journey to a truly magical place - Mackinac Island, MI. This special destination features a pair of most unique destinations where history runs very deep through the fabric and guest experiences.  Join us for a tee time on the 2nd oldest continuously operating golf club in Michigan - Wawashkamo Golf Club and then stay a couple nights with us at the spectacular Inn At Stonecliffe. KEY LINKS: Wawashkamo Golf Club Inn at Stonecliffe Voice of Mackinac Island Podcast Series WATCH THE VIDEO FEATURE ---------------- Subscribe to the FGN Podcast Watch FGN videos on YouTube Check out our other sports pod: Church Pew Sports TEXT or CALL (989) 272-2383 to share your thoughts, comments, suggestions, and questions        

Behind the Mitten is Michigan's premier radio show and podcast. Co-hosts John Gonzalez and Amy Sherman are celebrating 10 years of traveling the great state of Michigan.On this episode:Segment 1: Gonzo and Amy talk to Joe Herscher of Mackinac Island Carriage Tours. Joe talks about the transition of fall to winter when of their 400 horses leave Island to a spacious farm in Pickford where they are pampered with plenty to eat and and rest during the winter months.Segment 2: Next we talk to Jeri-Lynn Bailey, a former business owner and longtime resident whose children attended school on the Island. Today she works for Arnold Transit, but duiring this interview reflects on what life is like for families who reside on the Island all year round. She is also part of the Island's vibrant arts and theater community. The next play is Elf the Musical (Dec. 6).Segment 3: Amy meets up with Nick Nerbonne of Pure Michigan, who during his younger days worked as a Dockporter on the Island. They are the guys who navigate Main Street on their Schwinn bicycles carrying luggage for guests who are staying overnight at one of the many hotels. Amy and Nick talk about the life of a Dockporter, and the fact Archie Horn - man, myth and legend - is retirning after the season closes on Sunday.Segment 4: Gonzo and Amy play a short interview they did with Archie last Spring as the season was getting under way. He talks about the love he has for the beautiful Island. This is what was said about him recently on the Dockporter's Association Facebook page: "When the Chippewa Hotel Lakefront closes for the season this Sunday, it will be the end of an era. Archie Horn is the Dean of Mackinac Island dock porters and is retiring after working there since 1988." Congrats, Archie.Behind the Mitten airs on 22 radio stations across the state of Michigan every weekend. Learn more at amyandgonzo.com.

This week's show is sponsored in part by EPIC-MRA Public Opinion Research MIRS News

Jaco Kleynhans, Head of International Liaison for the Solidarity Movement, a coalition of more than 20 conservative community organizations with over 500,000 members in South Africa, speaks on his visit to the GOP Biannual Leadership Conference on Mackinac Island. As a speaker at the event, he shared powerful insights on the future of Africa, South Africa, and the Afrikaner community, as well as the role of Solidarity in defending conservative values. Kleynhans also weighed in on President Trump, America's relationship with South Africa, and what the path forward looks like for freedom-loving people around the world.

This past weekend, MIRS podcast host Samantha Shriber covered the Michigan Republican Leadership Conference on Mackinac Island, where candidates ahead of the '26 elections courted Republican activists and enthusiasts. She recaps what she saw with guests (1:16).  At the conference, MIRS met up with Republican Amir Hassan, the U.S. Navy veteran and Flint native running in Michigan's competitive 8th U.S. House district (9:24).  Also, 46th Gov. John Engler shares what it was like creating budgets with a political rival and later with an evenly divided state House in the '90s (21:11). 

September 22, 2025 ~ Jim Runestad, State Senator R- White Lake and Chair of the Michigan Republican Party, joins Rocky Raczkowski to recap the Republican Conference on Mackinac Island. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See https://pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Retired law enforcement supervisor and accomplished author Rod Sadler joins Jill for an engaging discussion about his latest book, Depraved Obsession. Their conversation delves into the shocking murders of teenagers Kenny Myers and Shawn Moore, shedding light on the sadistic serial killer who terrorized the community and shattered countless lives. They explore the complex twists and turns of the investigations, highlighting the relentless pursuit of justice. Additionally, they discuss Rod's previous work, Killing Women, which examines the notorious serial killer Don Miller, as well as the unsolved 1960 murder on Mackinac Island. This crime disrupted the tranquility of what was an idyllic vacation spot, a story featured in Grim Paradise, one of Jill's favorite true crime books. Discover your next true crime author and binge-read the riveting works of Rod Sadler! It was SO AWESOME seeing all of you at Crimecon 2025 in Denver! Join me on Patreon!    BUY ROD SADLER'S BOOKS ON AMAZON!   Sources, articles and photographs are found on Jill's Blog August 2025! Contact:  jill@murdershelfbookclub.com, or X,  Facebook,  Instagram or YouTube.  Join Jill on PATREON for $4 and help pick our next true crime book! Get your merch and support the Murder Shelf Book Club podcast!

John's guest this week is Dennis Cawthorne, historian of Mackinac Island.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Love the show? Have any thoughts? Click here to let us know!Things aren't always what they seem in the Great Lakes State—Michigan! First, Kenzie takes us to the idyllic Mackinac Island, a vacation hotspot known for its charm and beauty. But beneath the picturesque exterior lies a chilling truth: the island is rumored to have over 3,000 haunted locations. Then, Lauren dives into the story of Robert and Jane Bashara, a couple who appeared to be perfect in the eyes of friends and neighbors. Behind closed doors, however, their lives held dark and shocking secrets. Join us as we peel back the layers of Michigan's mysteries and expose the eerie tales hidden in plain sight!--Follow us on Social Media and find out how to support A Scary State by clicking on our Link Tree: https://instabio.cc/4050223uxWQAl--Have a scary tale or listener story of your own? Send us an email to ascarystatepodcast@gmail.com! We can't wait to read it!--Thinking of starting a podcast? Thinking about using Buzzsprout for that? Well use our link to let Buzzsprout know we sent you and get a $20 Amazon gift card if you sign up for a paid plan!https://www.buzzsprout.com/?referrer_id=1722892--Works cited!https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Dq_0tJvFgEFuU1ZpZQ3E_LcuLc-RrTML8fSt9ILWb6k/edit?usp=sharing --Intro and outro music thanks to Kevin MacLeod. You can visit his site here: http://incompetech.com/. Which is where we found our music!

Join Teresa Tomeo as she welcomes guests from the 2025 Grand Hotel Getaway in Mackinac Island, Michigan. Fr. Leo Patalinghug, Fr. Mike Schmitz, Dr. Edward Sri, Chris Martin, and John Hale of Corporate Travel. Plus, a visit with Dr. Italy (Marcellino D'Ambrosio) and his son Anthony about the film "Triumph of the Heart".

After a recent trip to Mackinac Island, why not read a story about Mackinac Island? Today, we read the story “Tied up at Mackinac Island” from the book “Motor Boats Boys on the Great Lakes” written by Louis Arundel.   Website: http://www.thefightingmoose.com/   Blog https://thefightingmoosepodcast.blogspot.com/   iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/the-fighting-moose/id1324413606?mt=2/   Story (PDF): http://ww.thefightingmoose.com/episode468.pdf   Reading List: http://www.thefightingmoose.com/readinglist.pdf   YouTube: https://youtu.be/FBR5_YAgzU8/   Book(s): “Motor Boat Boys on the Great Lakes” http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40903   Music/Audio: Artist – Analog by Nature http://dig.ccmixter.org/people/cdk   National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA): http://www.nasa.gov   Song(s) Used: cdk - Sunday by Analog By Nature (c) copyright 2016 Licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution (3.0) license. http://dig.ccmixter.org/files/cdk/53755 

Welcome to episode 295 of the Löw Tide Böyz - A Swimrun Podcast!We've got a great one for everyone this week. Chris just got back from ÖTILLÖ Mackinac Island where he raced as part of Team Musubi & Mofongo with friend of the podcast John Branderhorst (part of Team Kancho Boyz.) They had a blast racing the last(?) edition of the race in northern Michigan. In this race report, they share all the sights, sounds and smells of what was the most spectator friendly Swimrun in America.Enjoy!~~~That's it for this week's show. If you are enjoying the Löw Tide Böyz, be sure to subscribe to the show on your favorite podcast player and leave us a five-star rating and review since that's the best way for people to discover the show and the sport of Swimrun. You can find us on Apple Podcast, Spotify, and on YouTube. Check out our website for Swimrun resources including gear guides, tips, how-to videos and so much more. Also make sure to check out our meme page @thelowtideboyz on Instagram. If you have any suggestions for the show or questions for us, send us a dm or an email at lowtideboyz@gmail.com. Finally, you can support our efforts on Patreon…if you feel so inclined.Thanks for listening and see you out there!-  Chip and Chris

Welcome to the revival episode of Tori Talks Podcast - we're talking about business, entrepreneurship, how to get $10,000 in your savings, and how I'm going to help you turn $10,000 into $100,000 through this podcast.

What would have been a calm fishing day for 77-year-old Joseph Davis and 66-year-old Brian Palmer turned into a rocky rescue. AND A man was visiting Mackinac Island when he suddenly went into cardiac arrest. But fortunately for him, he came on a local Boy Scout troop’s volunteer week. To see videos and photos referenced in this episode, visit GodUpdates! https://www.godtube.com/blog/two-men-rescued-after-boat-capsized.html https://www.godtube.com/blog/boy-scout-saves-tourist-life.html Discover more Christian podcasts at lifeaudio.com and inquire about advertising opportunities at lifeaudio.com/contact-us.

Aug. 10, 2025 ~ Host Dave Lorenz explores Michigan destinations like Mackinac Island, Ann Arbor, and Manistee for diverse experiences from fudge festivals, to beaches, to the arts.

This is a Grave Talks CLASSIC EPISODE Mackinac Island is famous for its fudge, Victorian charm, and car-free streets—but there's more to this idyllic Michigan getaway than meets the eye. Beneath the surface of its historic buildings and scenic shorelines lies a haunted history that has drawn ghost hunters and thrill-seekers from across the country. From the restless spirits said to haunt the Mission Point Resort theater to unexplained phenomena at the Grand Hotel and Fort Mackinac, this island is as eerie as it is enchanting. In this episode, we're joined by Todd Clements, founder of the Haunts of Mackinac ghost tour company and author of two books on the island's paranormal activity. Todd takes us deep into the legends, local lore, and chilling encounters that make Mackinac one of the most haunted places in the Midwest. Whether you're a skeptic or a true believer, one thing's for sure: Mackinac Island has more than a few ghosts hiding in plain sight. This is Part Two of our conversation. ABOUT OUR GUEST: When it comes to the hauntings of Mackinac Island, Todd Clements wrote the book on it. Literally, he's written two books on the ghostly side of the island. He also owns the Haunts of Mackinac Island ghost tour company. You can purchase his books, "The Haunts of Mackinac Island" and "The Haunts of Mackinac Island, The Next Chapter," on Amazon. For information on ghost tours, go to hauntsofmackinac.com Become a GRAVE KEEPER and get access to ALL of our EPISODES - AD FREE, BONUS EPISODES & ADVANCE EPISODES!!! Sign up through Apple Podcast Channel or Patreon. Sign up through Apple Podcasts or Patreon http://www.patreon.com/thegravetalks

This is a Grave Talks CLASSIC EPISODE Mackinac Island is famous for its fudge, Victorian charm, and car-free streets—but there's more to this idyllic Michigan getaway than meets the eye. Beneath the surface of its historic buildings and scenic shorelines lies a haunted history that has drawn ghost hunters and thrill-seekers from across the country. From the restless spirits said to haunt the Mission Point Resort theater to unexplained phenomena at the Grand Hotel and Fort Mackinac, this island is as eerie as it is enchanting. In this episode, we're joined by Todd Clements, founder of the Haunts of Mackinac ghost tour company and author of two books on the island's paranormal activity. Todd takes us deep into the legends, local lore, and chilling encounters that make Mackinac one of the most haunted places in the Midwest. Whether you're a skeptic or a true believer, one thing's for sure: Mackinac Island has more than a few ghosts hiding in plain sight. ABOUT OUR GUEST: When it comes to the hauntings of Mackinac Island, Todd Clements wrote the book on it. Literally, he's written two books on the ghostly side of the island. He also owns the Haunts of Mackinac Island ghost tour company. You can purchase his books, "The Haunts of Mackinac Island" and "The Haunts of Mackinac Island, The Next Chapter," on Amazon. For information on ghost tours, go to hauntsofmackinac.com Become a GRAVE KEEPER and get access to ALL of our EPISODES - AD FREE, BONUS EPISODES & ADVANCE EPISODES!!! Sign up through Apple Podcast Channel or Patreon. Sign up through Apple Podcasts or Patreon http://www.patreon.com/thegravetalks

Big Dreams, Small Hooves: T.K. Sheffield on Nellie's Island Who doesn't love an adorable pony with the heart of a draft horse? In this episode, I chat with award-winning author T.K. Sheffield about her latest release, Nellie's Island. Nellie's Island follows a spirited little pony with big dreams. When Nellie sets off for an adventure on Mackinac Island, she discovers that even the smallest among us can be mighty. This heartwarming tale blends adventure, courage, and charm—perfect for readers of all ages. Join us as we talk about the inspiration behind Nellie, the magic of Mackinac, and what it takes to write a story that captures both hearts and hooves. To learn more about T.K. and Nellie's Island, visit: tksheffieldwriter.com For more information about my books or to connect, visit: kathleendonnelly.com

Send us a textWhat happens when you tell your academic advisor you "just want to travel the world and get paid for it"? For Skye Sherman, it launched a successful career as a travel writer and journalist whose bylines appear in Travel + Leisure, Southern Living, US News and World Report and Palm Beach Illustrated.In this fascinating conversation, Skye reveals how she transformed from an undeclared college major to a respected voice in travel journalism. Rather than following a traditional career path, she created her own way forward, initially thinking she wanted to be a travel influencer before discovering her true passion for writing for established publications. "I've been making it up as I go," she admits, yet her approach has clearly worked.Today, Skye has cultivated relationships with editors who regularly assign her stories while still pitching her own ideas. She writes Palm Beach Illustrated's "New and Now" section, contributes Florida and cruise content to major travel publications, and occasionally takes on lucrative content marketing projects. All while pursuing her ambitious personal goal of visiting every country in the world by age 60 (she's currently at about 51 countries).We dive into Skye's organizational strategies (she's "obsessively organized" with a non-negotiable inbox zero policy), her advice for PR professionals (pitch in the exact style of headlines she already writes), and her surprising background as a pilot who earned her license at 18. She also shares memorable destinations, including Michigan's car-free Mackinac Island and her recent sailing adventure through the British Virgin Islands.For aspiring travel writers, Skye offers candid advice based on her own journey, including what she might have done differently. This conversation provides a rare glimpse into the life of a successful travel journalist and shows how passion, persistence and organization can build a career that spans the globe.Connect with Skye at Skye@SkyeSherman.com; IG: @skyesherman; FB: Skye Sherman and LinkedIn. Please take a moment to rate, review and subscribe to the Media in Minutes podcast here or anywhere you get your podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/media-in-minutes/id1555710662 

Episode #336 | Big Strange Vacation Week 8! Actor Burl Moseley (Your Honor) returns for some starting Listener Stories featuring a Bigfoot encounter the Pacific Northwest, a seance with an unexpected Patterson-Gimlin connection, and a Mackinac Island ghost encounter! Plus, is Bigfoot spending his summer vacation in South Dakota?  BCC LIVE in Kansas City Listen Ad Free Watch this Episode on YouTube BCC Merch ⁠ ⁠Michael's eBay Shop⁠ -- SHOW INFORMATION Bigfoot Collectors Club is produced by Riley Bray. Patreon - BCC The Other Side: ⁠https://bit.ly/3CGjYcd⁠ Merch: ⁠http://tee.pub/lic/MqpNSYsoLrA⁠ Listener-Files Submissions: BigfootCollectorsClub@gmail.com. Instagram: ⁠https://bit.ly/3W7izlL⁠ | Blue Sky: ⁠https://bsky.app/profile/bccpodcast.bsky.social⁠ Our theme song is “Come Alone,” by Suneaters, courtesy of Lotuspool Records. Follow Suneaters on Spotify ⁠https://bit.ly/3XnD4vS Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Episode #335 | Big Strange Vacation Week 7! Paranormal investigator and author John E.L. Tenney (Whats Up Weirdo?) returns for a big update on his ongoing "Formanauts" case. Then, John shares his strangest places he's ever been featuring Holmesburg Prison, Mackinac Island, and teh Queen Mary. It's a Big Strange Vacation smorgasbord! Listen Ad-Free:⁠ https://www.patreon.com/c/bigfootcollectorsclub Watch on YouTube:  https://www.youtube.com/@bigfootcollectorsclub ⁠New BCC Merch ⁠ ⁠Michael's eBay Shop⁠ BCC is Brought to You By... Hims - Start your free online visit today at Hims.com/BCC. Mosh - Head to moshlife.com/BCC to save 20% off plus FREE shipping on the Best sellers Trial Pack or the NEW plant-based trial pack. -- SHOW INFORMATION Bigfoot Collectors Club is produced by Riley Bray. Patreon - BCC The Other Side: ⁠https://bit.ly/3CGjYcd⁠ Merch: ⁠http://tee.pub/lic/MqpNSYsoLrA⁠ Listener-Files Submissions: BigfootCollectorsClub@gmail.com. Instagram: ⁠https://bit.ly/3W7izlL⁠ | Blue Sky: ⁠https://bsky.app/profile/bccpodcast.bsky.social⁠ Our theme song is “Come Alone,” by Suneaters, courtesy of Lotuspool Records. Follow Suneaters on Spotify ⁠https://bit.ly/3XnD4vS Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Friday, May 30th, Chris Holman arrived fresh off 45 interviews at the Mackinac Policy Conference, on Mackinac Island at the Grand Hotel, to be on hand for a ribbon cutting ceremony for Copper Peak, of Ironwood, Michigan. This video shares an interview with Bob Jacquart, former head of Stormy Kromer. He's retired and put time and passion into the project at Copper Peak. Next there are excerpts from a ceremony ahead of the celebration of the next phase for the project at Copper Peak. And finally the countdown and project blast that marked the next phase. » Visit MBN website: www.michiganbusinessnetwork.com/ » Subscribe to MBN's YouTube: www.youtube.com/channel/UCqNX… » Like MBN: www.facebook.com/mibiznetwork » Follow MBN: twitter.com/MIBizNetwork/ » MBN Instagram: www.instagram.com/mibiznetwork/ The World's Largest Artificial Ski Jump As you've probably guessed from the title, Copper Peak is the world's largest artificial ski jump. While it hasn't been operating in that capacity since 1994, we're on the way to restoring the jump to its previous glory. In the meantime, visitors love stopping by Copper Peak to go on our Adventure Ride or explore our Mountain Biking Trails. And who can blame them? The Copper Peak upper observation platform provides views at 1,782 feet above sea level and 1,180 feet above Lake Superior, and the trails feature a 600-foot elevation gain over 5.5 miles. Now that's not for the faint of heart! About the Jump The Copper Peak ski jump is made from 300 tons of sturdy COR-TEN steel and boasts a 469-foot cantilevered in run with a 35-degree slope. It's built to withstand even the strongest winds, including speeds of over 190 mph. During windy weather, you may observe a gentle 18-inch sway at the top, but rest assured, there's no cause for concern! The jump sways intentionally as part of its design. A Vision for the Next Two Years Our mission is to redefine Copper Peak as the premier ski jump worldwide, hosting year-round competitions highlighting the breathtaking beauty of Michigan's Upper Peninsula and the surrounding region. Our vision is to position the Upper Peninsula as a globally renowned destination for outdoor enthusiasts, inspiring a passion for the area as a distinctive place to live, work, and play while also fostering business growth in the region. How They Plan To Reach This New Adventure Over the past few years, Copper Peak's Adventure Ride has experienced significant growth. Investments have been made in preliminary engineering, geo-tech studies, structural reviews, master planning exercises, and business case development to redevelop the hill to host international competitions. The Copper Peak Organizing Committee, appointed by the full board in 2015, has dedicated considerable time and resources to foster relationships with esteemed organizations such as the International Ski Federation (FIS), the United States Ski Association (USSA), USA Ski Jumping and USA Nordic Combined, as well as influential Michigan legislators and decision-makers. The ultimate objective has been to pave the way for the successful reintroduction of international ski jumping events at Copper Peak. On March 30, 2022, Copper Peak was granted a generous $20 million from the State of Michigan to bring this vision to life. We extend our heartfelt appreciation to all those who played a role in this important investment by the state. A $20 million project for Copper Peak began on Friday with a ceremony. After a resounding boom, the Copper Peak project now begins. The goal of this project is to bring the ski hill to International Ski and Snowboard Federation standards. President of Copper Peak Bob Jacquart said this first phase is focusing on the landing hill. Jacquart says; “We're going to redo the landing hill right now and get it, widen it, change the angle, and eventually pour a concrete slab so that we can have ski jumping in the summer,”

This week's show is sponsored in part by EPIC-MRA Public Opinion Research MIRS News

This is your Friday Refresh brought to you by the Stayin Alive Disco Dodgeball Tournament that takes place at Mars Hill Bible School in Florence Alabama on August 16, 2025. All proceeds benefit St. Jude Research Hospital. Festivities will begin at 10 AM. More info at BenandTravis.com/Dodgeball The first half of my summer has been pretty! So I took a little break from the Friday Refresh for a couple of weeks. I got to hang out a day or two with some spiritual heroes of mine, Halo and Rhonda Fernandez as my family helped them prepare for a VBS in Munford Alabama. Then Travis and I spent a little time in Lexington, Kentucky with the North Lexington Church of Christ for a mental health workshop. After being home a few short days I took off with a few members of my family and we road tripped from North Alabama to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. We went about four days on the beautiful Mackinac Island for my daughter's Senior Trip and then saw some waterfalls and NFL football stadiums on the way home. After barely resting we spent the week in one of my favorites places on earth — Maywood Christian Camp. Such great memories from over 30 straight years of spending a week of my summer there. Links mentioned in this episode: http://www.benandtravis.com http://www.facebook.com/groups/benandtravis http://www.patreon.com/benandtravis Reframing Hope Book https://www.benandtravis.com/books Helping. Healing. Humor. with Ben and Travis: https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/batify/id1457601152?mt=2&uo=4 Good Old Fashioned Dislike podcast: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/good-old-fashioned-dislike/id1643163790 Co-Producers: Justin B., Doris C., Rhonda F., Scott K., Mary H. This podcast is hosted by ZenCast.fm

Settle in for a true sleep holiday with this calming bedtime story, guiding you through a serene journey. In this sleep story narrated by a female voice, explore the rich history of Mackinac Island, from charming shops to horse-drawn carriages and a secret garden. Seek refuge in a cozy lakeside cabin. As a gentle summer storm rolls in, you'll be lulled to sleep by the comforting rain sounds and distant thunder, washing away all your worries. It's time to dream away.Vocals are recorded live by Michelle Hotaling. Original script, production, sound design, and sleep music by Michelle Hotaling, Dreamaway Visions LLC All Rights Reserved 2025YOUTUBE: ⁠https://www.youtube.com/michellessanctuary/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠INSTAGRAM: ⁠https://instagram.com/michellessanctuary/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠FACEBOOK:⁠https://www.facebook.com/michellessanctuary/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠TIKTOK: ⁠http://www.tiktok.com/@michellessanctuary/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠TWITTER: ⁠http://twitter.com/michsanctuary/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Email Michelle: ⁠michellessanctuary@gmail.com⁠If you would like to support this channel:⁠https://www.buymeacoffee.com/michsanctuary⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.paypal.me/michellessanctuary⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.venmo.com/michellehotaling⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Check out my new podcast, Meditation Tides, for guided meditations and let the tides of your breath bring the tranquility you deserve. ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/meditationtides/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Michelle's Sanctuary is a place where you may enjoy high quality relaxing stories for sleep and guided sleep meditations completely FREE with a focus on mental vacations, sleep hypnosis, manifestations, and using your imagination to enjoy relaxing adventures before bedtime. Grown-ups deserve bedtime stories too!Having firsthand experience with anxiety, insomnia, and a strong desire to connect with my higher self and live my best life, I have tailored these recordings in ways that I have personally found helpful. This channel is not a replacement for consultations with a doctor or medical professional but can help you find more balance and a healing night's sleep. I always welcome comments, feedback & suggestions.

This year Mackinac Island celebrates a big milestone; it's been 150 years since it was named a National Park. It was only the second space given that designation in the nation, behind Yellowstone. Mackinac Island is a State Park these days, and it enjoys a rich and intriguing history that creates a sense of timelessness. Today we explore some of the chronology that take the island from Anishinaabe fishing community, to Revolutionary War outpost, to the carless, fudge-filled spot it is today. GUEST: Craig Wilson, Mackinac Island Historic Parks Looking for more conversations from Stateside? Right this way. If you like what you hear on the pod, consider supporting our work. Music in this episode by Blue Dot Sessions.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

#podcast #politics #Michigan #Progressives #Democrats #Republicans #Trump #Tariffs #Lobbying #CorporateCorruption #CorporateGreed #GovernmentCorruption #LeftOfLansing Here's the Left of Lansing "Monday Musing" for June 9, 2025. A recent Lake Effect Poll by our friends from Progress Michigan reveals something we've already known: Many working class Michiganders don't get all that excited about the Mackinac Policy Conference. It's a corporate-backed conference featuring lobbyists and lawmakers, who get to spend three fun-filled days on Mackinac Island's luxurious Grand Hotel. And it shouldn't be breaking news to these elitists since the revolving door between lawmaker and lobbyist in Lansing isn't just out in the open, it's celebrated by many Lansing insiders. Please, subscribe to the podcast, download each episode, and give it a good review if you can! leftoflansing@gmail.com Left of Lansing is now on YouTube as well! leftoflansing.com NOTES: "Michiganders Not Keen on Mackinac Policy Conference." By Progress Michigan "'No One Will Know': Records Reveal Secret Money Flowing Through Lansing." By Craig Mauger of The Detroit News

Send us a textThe Disney Wonder may be one of Disney's oldest ships, but you'd never know it from the pristine condition and timeless Art Deco styling that greets you upon boarding. Sailing from San Diego to the Mexican Riviera, this four-night adventure proves why Disney Cruise Line maintains their reputation for exceptional service and magical experiences.What makes a Disney cruise stand out? It starts with the remarkable 1:3 crew-to-guest ratio, ensuring personalized attention that transforms ordinary moments into extraordinary memories. Our room attendant June went above and beyond, surprising our daughter with Minnie Mouse sheets and creating special birthday decorations for my mom. These thoughtful touches exemplify why Disney cruises command premium prices—and why they're worth every penny.Catalina Island emerged as the unexpected highlight of our journey, earning the nickname "the Mackinac Island of California" with its no-cars policy and charming golf cart transportation. Despite some rain, our tour guides came prepared with blankets and ponchos, revealing stunning island views and sharing fascinating history about the bison population that remains from 1920s film productions. Meanwhile, Ensenada offered a glimpse of authentic Mexican culture, proving both safe and interesting to explore.Onboard, Disney's legendary entertainment shines with Broadway-caliber shows like Frozen: A Musical Spectacular and Disney Dreams—an award-winning production that captivates audiences of all ages. The rotational dining system allowed us to experience Triton's, Animator's Palette, and Tiana's Place, each offering unique themes and culinary delights. Beyond scheduled dining, included room service and quick-service options like Pinocchio's pizza and Pete's Boiler Bites kept us satisfied between adventures.For families, the Royal Court Royal Tea provides an unforgettable princess experience with Ariel, Belle, and Cinderella, complete with premium gifts and special memories. Meanwhile, the kids club offers safe, engaging activities when parents want adult time, though our daughter preferred staying with us for most of the journey.Whether you're exploring port destinations, participating in trivia contests, enjoying character meet-and-greets, or simply relaxing in the heated pools (yes, even in 50-degree weather!), the Disney Wonder delivers magic at every turn. Ready to experience it yourself? Book while onboard your next Disney cruise for a 10% discount and $250 deposit that's fully refundable if your plans change.What's your dream Disney cruise destination? We'd love to hear about it in a review—which also helps others discover our podcast!Check out our other Disney cruise reviews in these past episodes:DisLove E138 Special Episode Disney Wish Review of Halloween on the High SeasTravel Made Easy with Little OnesHigh quality, clean baby gear delivered right to your resort while on your Disney Vacation.Use the code "dislove10" to save 10%! Where In the Park game packs are fun & challenging for anyone who knows the parks and for newbies.Disclaimer: This post contains affiliate links. If you make a purchase, I may receive a commission at no extra cost to you.For all the latest news about our episodes follow us on Instagram @dislovewithvanessaandkris or on YouTube.

Fr. Leo Patalinghug joins to discuss the upcoming Grand Hotel Getaway event on Mackinac Island. Brittany Vessely, of the Colorado Catholic Conference, talks over Colorado's HB25-1312 and the radical overreach by the state. Plus, an eye opening conversation with Kelly Salomon on Newman Guide News Tuesday regarding the state of some colleges who call themselves Catholic.

It's a swing state with an open U.S. Senate seat, several competitive House races, an open gubernatorial seat — oh, and a potential leading 2028 candidate serving as governor. You may call it a political wonk's dream; we call it Michigan. This week, as the battleground state's political stars descended on idyllic Mackinac Island, the trends that will likely define 2026 across the nation came into full view. Live from the Mackinac Policy Conference, Playbook contributing author Adam Wren and supervising editor Zack Stanton talk through what they learned about the direction the campaign is heading. That, and President Donald Trump goes to Pennsylvania to trumpet the new U.S. Steel deal, while some leading Democrats head to South Carolina for a trial run of potential 2028 campaigns.

This week's show is sponsored by: EPIC-MRA Public Opinion Research MIRS News Fulton Fish Market

Chicago — like so many other frigid American cities — can't seem to kick its dependence on road salt. Last episode, we talked about why chloride from salt is harmful to both our natural and built environments. So we spent some time looking around for a cold-weather community that avoids using it altogether. And we found one! A little community way up north: Have you ever taken a ferry — or a plane — to Mackinac Island? Today, we hear from Dominick Miller, chief of marketing at the Mackinac State Historic Parks, about how the island deals with snow and ice in the winter without laying down a single grain of salt. And it has a lot to do with the fact that cars have been banned on Mackinac Island for over a century.

Note: "Act 1" was a separate published audio podcast.*Get a FREE 7 day trial to Patreon to "try it out."*Watch the show live, daily at 8AM EST on Twitch! Please click here to follow the page.Email the show on the Shoreliners Striping inbox: eric@ericzaneshow.comTopics:*A new radio station is taking Ft Myers FL, by storm!*EZ had a hard time with obnoxious soccer mom. *The time hockey mom, Pooh Bear went a little too hard on a youth hockey player.*Asshole leaders on Mackinac Island want the place to remain as shitty as possible.Asshole of the Day BTYB TC PaintballSponsors:Grand Rapids Gold, TAG Accounting, Green Medicine Shop, Impact Power Sports, Frank Fuss / My Policy Shop Insurance, Kings Room Barbershop, The Mario Flores Lakeshore Team of VanDyk Mortgage, Shoreliners Striping, Ervines Auto Repair Grand Rapids Hybrid & EV, TC PaintballInterested in advertising? Email eric@ericzaneshow.com and let me design a marketing plan for you.Contact: Shoreliners Striping inbox eric@ericzaneshow.comDiscord LinkEZSP TikTokSubscribe to my YouTube channelHire me on Cameo!Tshirts available herePlease subscribe, rate & write a review on Apple Podcastspatreon.com/ericzaneInstagram: ericzaneshowTwitterSupport this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/the-eric-zane-show-podcast/donationsAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy