Fortunately, we have made many new friends since moving to northern Michigan. We've met most of them through neighbors, church activities and volunteer work or at Saturday morning breakfasts.
Eventually, the question comes up. "How is it that you moved to northern Michigan?" If we were talking to our friends back in Illinois, the question was a little different. They would ask, "Why in the world would you move to northern Michigan?" I guess they expected us to move in the opposite direction and head south. When we tell them that we love it up here, they just shiver and shake their heads.
We all have a story about how we wind up where we are. Most of us don't stay in the same place all of our lives. I'm sure some of you reading this can remember the 1950s, and my love for the North goes way back to that time.
I have fond childhood memories of summer vacations at my aunt and uncle's log cabin on Squaw Lake near Minocqua, Wis. Our parents would bundle my sister and me up during the middle of the night and load us into their 1951 Studebaker. Off we would go, with us kids sleeping on a makeshift bed in the back seat. It was a 12-hour drive on a two-lane highway and, needless to say, the phrase "Are we almost there?" was uttered many times. We entertained ourselves by playing the license plate game, reading Burma Shave signs or looking for the first white birch bark tree. That was a sure sign that we were getting into the North woods.
Once there, we felt like we had stepped back in time to another era. In those days, electricity wasn't available in our remote location. The bathroom consisted of a two-holed design behind the cabin. I can remember asking my mom why there were two holes in the outhouse seat. Her reply was always the same. She would say that it was so you could hold hands. When my uncle was asked about the "pin-up" girls hanging on the walls, he said it was "just wallpaper."
The water supply was a hand pump in the front yard with a porcelain tin cup hanging on the hook. I can still recall how cold and good that water tasted on a hot summer day. The kitchen stove burned wood and at night the fireplace was lit along with kerosene lamps by which the whole family played card games. Most meals were enjoyed on the screened-in porch unless the weather got nasty. During those meals, we would often hear the lonely call of a loon across the lake.
We went fishing almost every day and usually came home with enough for dinner the next night. Our catch was kept in a live-box at the end of the pier and cleaned just before the meal was to be prepared. When we weren't fishing, we were swimming, which sometimes doubled as bath time. We took a bar of soap, towel and washcloth down to the pier when going for a dip.
I could go on and on with tales from then, but I think it is quite evident that those days, back in the '50s, are easy to recall 50-some years later. They were good times and much simpler times and hold many memories of people who are no longer with us. A love and respect was developed for the woods, the water and the lifestyle of the North. So, when my wife and I started making plans to choose our retirement home, it is easy to see how we came to be residents of Michigan. We wanted to begin a new northern adventure together. And so we have.
Ed Hungness and his wife owned their cottage on Fife Lake for six years before moving there after his retirement in 2005. His writing draws from life experiences and a love for the outdoors and northern Michigan. He can be reached at edhungness@yahoo.com or care of the Record-Eagle.
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