Zula

 

Hi, Daddy

Brand new Jaimee Rose meeting her brand new dad, Jake.

A tiny person and a brand new dad-- a timeless memory of a momentous moment. 

Along the road to somewhere

 

Sixteen

I started this blog 16 years ago: It is now old enough to drive! Many posts have words that pass along thoughts-- some mine, some from others that I simply like or agree with. Most posts are something that has captured a mood or stirred a feeling in me. This year's birthday photo opportunity happened as Terri and I were driving around the campground one August afternoon after a rain. It speaks for itself with its dramatic simplicity. And it is a typical collaboration: Terri's photo, my crop. Happy birthday, blog. Let's keep "muckian around" for awhile longer.

Canandaigua (NY) City Pier

 

The beginning of year number 67

Growing up in the Chicago area and having a February birthday, I never experienced

this weather (or view!) on my birthday, until this year. Hopefully, it will not be the last

birthday with such a view! (Photo taken from Holiday Inn Hotel balcony in Aruba.)

Happy Birthday!

Today is my blog's 15th birthday--yay! I chose to post this photo because it was one of my favorites from this year. Terri and I were in Iowa City, it was nearly 100 degrees out, and this little girl was oblivious to the heat as she played in the fountain. Plus, the light made the photo a real keeper.

At the gate

 

Along the path

 

Spring!

 

So this happened…

 

My wife Terri and I have a trailer at a campground in Momence, Illinois. It’s our getaway place and we go there often. We like the small town atmosphere and the campground itself has a nice, personal, and friendly vibe. Located along the southern bank of the Kankakee River, it is camping for those who appreciate nature and the simple pleasures it provides. The town is typical rural Illinois and that means there are people from all walks of life, all with their own beliefs and opinions. The businesses reflect this diversity too.

 

One of the businesses that is special to us is a tiny popcorn shop housed in a former church at the south end of town where all the trucks turn left to head across the railroad tracks and on to Indiana. Cranky Mike’s it’s called and it’s run by Cranky Mike’s wife, Chris. A wonderfully friendly person with super-short hair and manly glasses, Chris stands out in Momence. (Aside, I talked to Mike for quite a while one day and did not find him to be cranky at all. In fact, he was quite pleasant. But, like this Mike, I’m guessing he may have his moments.) Anyway, the popcorn is available in a variety of flavors and is always served by a not-even-close-to-cranky employee, or Chris herself. I knew the first time I stopped there that I wanted to support this business. The problem was, eating popcorn does not agree with my diverticulosis. So, what could Terri and I do?

 

We decided to pre-pay for an additional bag of popcorn for the next customer who came in after we would drop off a snack bag with the cash to pay for it. We would do this every time we went to camp. It was a win-win situation. We supported a local business run by a couple who became friends and we did a good deed for a stranger. 

 

Chris was kind enough to tell me some reactions from those who got a free bag. One time she saw me in line behind another customer and gave that person the spiel and the free bag so I could see the reaction. But today, today was a very special day. It was one of those “you could not have planned the perfect timing” events.

 

Some days, I go into town for breakfast. Today was one of those days. On my way back to camp, when I got to the stop sign where all the trucks turn left, I thought about how, yesterday, Terri said, “I’m tempted to get some Double Cheddar popcorn, but I know if I did I would eat it all.” (I knew this meant that she truly wanted some Cranky Mike’s Double Cheddar popcorn.) So I almost turned right to get her popcorn, but thought better of it and turned left. I saw there was a train ahead that might hold me up for awhile and thought, why not get the popcorn?, and was ready to turn around and go back. But, before I could, I saw the end of the train and decided to just continue on.

 

When I got back, we watched the end of the movie that we missed after we fell asleep last night. Then we picked out another movie to get from the Red Box in town. My plan was to go back to town, get the movie and return. Along the way, I decided to go to Berkot’s grocery store and pick up some Irish soda bread. Then I thought I’d pick up a Subway sub for us to snack on later. As I approached the stop sign where all the trucks turn left, I again considered popcorn for my bride. Again, I made the turn without buying popcorn only to decide to go back and get it. I turned into the first driveway and went back to Cranky Mike’s.

 

A smiling man was exiting as I walked from my truck to the shop. I nodded and we both said hello. When I entered, Chris came to the window. I asked for a bag of Terri’s favorite— Double Cheddar. And then this happened: Chris told me it was free!

 

She said a woman had just come in and said that the last time she was in, she got a free bag from someone who had prepaid for it and she wanted to return the favor by pre-paying for a bag for the next person who came in. Chris told me she was really supposed to give it to the man who had just left, but forgot. I was overcome with shock at the irony and timing. It was life coming full circle! (Or, despite her saying, “True story!” Chris was fibbing. But, I want to believe her.)

 

We talked a bit about some of the others who were recipients. Chris told me about a young boy who came in while his mom waited in the car. He paid for the popcorn and, when Chris told him about “the gentleman who stops in almost every week and pays for a bag for the next person and this is yours” he hugged it and said, “Thank you” in the most sincere way.

 

It costs Terri and I four dollars each time we do this. When you think about it, it’s really a very small price to put on all this joy!

Foggy and damp

 

Foggy night on the Kankakee River

 

The Muck Chicks

John and Yuzenia's girls-- three sweethearts!

 

Harvested hay field on a beautiful autumn day

 

Not from outer space!

It's an "acreage rake" which is used to gather cut hay into rows that can then be baled. (The baler is in the background to the right of the rake.) We saw it being used last weekend. Very interesting.

Orange Umbrella, Blue Sky

 

The Kids of Summer (c.1972)

A Summer story.

Oh what a place. Shady Shores was everything a kid could want in a summer vacation. I won't go into all the details, but I will tell you that the morning softball games were something we ALL looked forward to.

I ran across this photo of part of our group from July of 1972 (I think) on the field after a game. With a little help from some of the others in the photo, I was able to name all but three of our group. But I wanted to figure out who those three were.

So, anyway, Terri and I were at Dewey Lake last week. Shady Shores is gone, but Lynette and Phil Nevins still rent out some spaces on the old property which they now call "Nevins Landing". The places have been improved-- really nice, with AC and even TV! I met up with three of the people in this picture: Roy Murphy (white shirt, center), Lynette Nevins (front row, third from left), and Phil Nevins (back row, second from right). (By the way, I'm the guy on the left with the striped shirt.) We all talked about how we were doing, and of course about the old days. I brought this photo up on my phone and asked if anyone could ID those I couldn't. I didn't know who was standing next to me and who the two on the right of the front row. No one had a definite answer.

A few days later, Terri and I were walking along Garett Road in front of what used to be Shady Shores cottages and a guy who looked a bit like me (shaved head and white goatee) rolled up on his orange golf cart. We talked a bit and I mentioned that my family had been coming here since the mid-60s. He said his family started coming in (I think) 1972. Then he asked, "What's your last name?" I said, "Muckian," and he asked, "Mike?" I said yes and asked what his last name was. He said, "Litoborski." I asked, "Al?" Yes, it was Al. Small world.

We chatted a bit more and I thought about the picture. As I was pulling it up on my phone, I said I had an old photo of a group of softball players from years ago and was trying to find out the names of the only three I was not able to recall. When I showed it to him he told me the boy on the right in the front row was his cousin, Wayne Jablonski. When I asked who was standing next to me, he said, "That's me!" Really small world. 

We enjoyed a nice time by the fire later that night and all was once again right with the world. Shady Shores will always be recalled fondly in my heart as "the place that time forgot".

Back row: Michael Muckian, Al Litoborski, Tim Dunne, Hobie Murnane, Roy Murphy, Kevin Gleason, Mike (or Bobby?) Fazzari, Jimmy Austin, Phil Nevins, Billy Dunne.

Front row: Keith Boyd, Jimmy Murray, Lynette Nevins, Mary Liz Dunne, Connie Conroy, Wayne Jablonski.

8/25 edit. Thanks to Jeanine Gleason Ranzen for identifying Connie Conroy in the front row and verifying that it is Kevin Gleason, not Marty.

Moonlit Hip

 

Late Lament

Bright moonlit nights make everything appear as if there are no colors-- only shades of black and white. This often reminds me of the last verse of the Moody Blues song...

Cold-hearted orb that rules the night

Removes the colours from our sight

Red is grey and yellow white

But we decide which is right

And which is an illusion

From the song Late Lament by The Moody Blues, written by Graeme Edge and John Lodge