Some of the Good Times

Dad got to visit just about all of the states. I think the only one he never saw was Alaska. When he was a boy his parents traveled and camped everywhere, national parks, camp grounds. Dad had lots of childhood memories. His dad also built a cottage in Wisconsin. Dad helped. I think he said he was 16 at the time. Dad loved the outdoors. He fished and trapped for fur, which he tanned himself and sold. Dad and his good friend Mike used to run a trap line which they checked before school, maybe after, too, but I don't remember. That's when there were more woods here. At one time Dad and his friends built a log cabin in the woods behind the university here in town. Then it was found, I think by the National Guard, who have a location near the same woods. They used it for practice and burned it down. Dad never took me into the woods, even though most of them are still there, between the university and the expressway. He said they were often wet and hard to navigate.

When Dad brought me here, we landed at the airport and his parents picked us up. They had been staying at the cottage in Wisconsin. They drove up to their house here in town, but we didn't even go inside! Grandma went in to drop off laundry and pick up clean clothes, then we headed back to Wisconsin. It was a 4 hour drive.

Times at the cottage were most wonderful to me. It was paradise. We could fish on the pier with our morning coffee. I never fished before, ever. Grandpa taught me how. Across the Slough were trees. No cottages were ever built there because it was swampy there. We spent many lazy summer weekends there, and even a winter night each year for the fireman's ball.

Well, since the family no longer owns the cottage, it's safe for me to mention publicly that it was near Briggsville, Wisconsin. Since Grandpa was a retired fireman, he was friends with the volunteer firemen in Briggsville. In the middle of winter they had a fireman's ball, and Grandpa and Grandma were always invited. Well, my first winter in the Midwest after moving from California was a real trip. My so called "coat" had no lining. My only shoes were dress shoes. Dad had to take me shopping because I was freezing my @ss off! And my toes.

The early 1970's were like a mini ice age. The snow and ice packed up on the sidewalks 6 inches thick. And Wisconsin---well---it's a LOT colder than Indiana! We spent the night in the old cottage. I say "old" because it was the first one and it wasn't finished on the inside. There was no insulation. But it wouldn't have mattered much because it had been closed for the winter and everything inside was 5 degrees below zero just like outside. The only heat was a Ben Franklin stove in the corner of the living room, which is the reason that was the first cottage. The new cottage was (is) all electric and well insulated.

Anyway, after melting quite a bit snow for washing and warming up by the fire, it did become tolerable. I don't remember much about the evening other than dining at the Pheasant Inn. We were seated near the door, and every time it opened I was hit by a whoosh of 5 below zero air! That night we slept on freezing beds. I was shivering so much I think I hovered above it. If I had to do it again I would have brought a sleeping bag!

The old cottage in Wisconsin, October 1970

Grandma and Grandpa always had company. The "payment" was that you had to write in the log. I think Dad was the one who started the logs as a fishing journal (there were several books by the time I got there). In case you are wondering, that's a canoe on the porch and a jon boat (flat bottomed) under the porch. Thankfully, when the cottage caught fire, everyone got out safely. It was so drafty the smoke didn't build up, but there was no time to grab the log books. Grandpa and Grandma, fireman friend, wife and son all were safe. It was reported that Grandpa and his friend were hopping all over in their underwear shouting directions to the volunteers, who gave it their all but alas it burned to the ground. Even the cars were blistered from the heat. I have to figure out what year that happened. It might have been in the early 1980's. The new logs might tell.

Thankfully Grandpa had it insured for much more than its worth, so he had a new cottage built with the same plans that Dad had drawn up for the first cottage. Dad's floor plan was so good that several of the cottages along the Menominee Slough have the same floor plan. The cottage has since become a larger residence (as noted by "flying" over in Google Earth). But in any case, the new cottage was much more livable, with thick insulation and all electric appliances. Instead of the open porch you see above, it was enclosed, with giant windows all across the front. It was a wonderful place to sit and look at the Slough in the sparkling morning. Usually a deer would wander by and stop for a drink, or we would hear Loons or Sandhill Cranes. It was the best of times.

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