A Fish Story

Hazel and Leah were friends, neighbors, fisherwomen and my grandmothers.

My mother's parents, Omer and Hazel, bought a small resort in Michigan on Little Platt Lake in January 1948 and named it Buckeye Resort. There were 9 cabins and a small store. My granddad worked on the boats and would take people out fishing while my grandmother and mother would mind the store and cabins. My father's parents, Casey and Leah, lived next door.

On a chilly May morning during trout season, Hazel shouted across to Leah to see if she wanted to go out fishing. Leah, always eager for any reason not to be in the house, agreed. They gathered their gear and met at the resort’s boathouse. Hazel pulled the cord on the Johnson motor and the flat-bottomed rowboat puttered away from the dock. They were headed across the lake behind the point. My mother watched them go and then started her day’s work.

She happened to be standing on the dock several hours later when they pulled back in. She reached down for the anchor rope and hauled the boat up on the ground. Both women were excited, talking over each other; they had had a good day of fishing. In addition to the mess of perch and sunnies, Hazel had caught an enormous brown trout. They were giggling like schoolgirls. On the way back across the lake, they had made plans for a big fish fry for both families and they would invite the Lillys from across the road. Leah offered to have it at her house. While making their plans, they decided to take the fish over to the Benzie County Record to see if it was record-breaking. Both Hazel and Leah had their pictures taken with the trout. But the paper got mixed up and only printed Leah’s picture with the trout and she got the public credit for catching it. That is the picture you see. I, would have been hopping mad.

In the end, 3 families had a wonderful fish fry with fried potatoes, baked beans and salad and no doubt there was dessert of some kind, knowing my grandmothers.

Odd, how things work out. What are the interesting stories in your family?

Old Time Ghost Story

Every holiday visit inevitably leads to “do you remember when?” and talk of the past. This holiday was no different. All the cousins were talking about genealogy. We are all going to work on Ancestry.com to pool our knowledge. In the discussion of who knows what piece of family history; my mother tells this story.

“Charlie!”

Grandpa Charlie sat straight up in the middle of the night and looked around. “Davey?”
He got out of bed.

Grandma Lizzie rolled over. “Charlie, what’s wrong?”

“I just heard Davey call my name.”

“Charlie honey, that‘s not possible. Your brother lives down by the river. It would take days for him to get up here on horseback. Come back to bed.”

“I tell you, I just heard him call my name. He must be outside.”

Grandpa Charlie went outside and started to search the farm. Grandma Lizzie stood at the door with s shawl wrapped around her and looked out. She was scared. She had no idea of what was going on.

Grandpa Charlie finally came back to the house alone and perplexed.

“I can’t find him. It is strange. I heard him speak to me clear as a bell.”

Lizzie finally got him back to bed. Several days later they got word that the night Davey spoke to his brother was the night that he committed suicide by drowning himself in the river.”

I looked over to at my mother and then at my cousin Lynn.

“I never heard that story before.”

“Funny, I haven’t thought about it in years. I happened a long time ago. It is just a story that my mother told me about a funny thing that happened to her parents.”

These are the kinds of stories that need to be written down. I encourage you to talk with your aging relatives to get them reminiscing. You never know what will come up.