An afternoon in Muskegon

The other day Susie and I drove up to Muskegon for an afternoon outing. We planned to meet friends Patty and Paul for dinner later that evening in Grand Haven and thought we'd take the opportunity to take in a couple of sights we had yet to experience on the Big Lake. And since it was a lovely day we thought to visit the Muskegon Museum of Art and see the World War 2 submarine USS Silversides. If we had time Susan would help me track down a grave in the bargain.

The museum is tiny -- a scant three rooms on one floor - but what a collection of artwork! One room was dedicated to 150 photos of Native Americans by the noted photographer Edward Curtis. While we learned that his photography has been considered rather controversial, the faces he captured are nothing short of stunning.

The other featured exhibition that stunned both of us was the ultra-realistic sculpture of Marc Sijan. Eery and a bit disconcerting to be around, these life-size sculptures must be seen to be truly appreciated.

From the art museum we drove along Lakeshore Drive out past the Pere Marquette Beach to visit the USS Silversides. Launched in 1941 this boat (SS-236) saw active service during the war, sinking 30 Japanese ships.

c. 1942

Even though it was nearing closing time, there were still plenty of people touring the boat. And it was heartening to see so many young people showing serious interest in their history.

OK, so you enter the sub in the forward torpedo room. . .

pantry

control room

galley

crew's mess

crew's berthing area

engine room

We exited through the aft torpedo room.

The tour also includes the 1927 Coast Guard cutter McLane, which saw active service in the Bering sea off the coast of Alaska.

We were also given a unique opportunity to see the high-speed cross-lake ferry leaving Muskegon as it passed through the channel right next to the submarine.

Oh, and no we didn't find the grave we were looking for. On our way out of Muskegon we sopped at Oakwood Cemetery to search for the resting place of one William Zilkey. Zilkey had served in the 3rd Michigan Infantry during the civil war and died in Muskegon in February of 1920. In our search for the marker we surmised that his gravestone was long gone (notice the open space in the foreground of the photo).

From the cemetery we headed back to US 31 and turned south to Grand Haven to meet up with friends for dinner and catching up. A good day all round, I'd say.

Out and about in West Michigan

OK, I admit there's little rhyme or reason to this particular post -- the cynic might say I was too lazy all these past three months or so to post individual notes with accompanying photos. The cynic might be right. And then again she might be wrong.

Frankly, I couldn't bring myself to focus on one simple blog entry as somehow worthy of standing alone on the page as it were. That and I had a few other things on my mind -- spending nearly a month in Europe, spending time with folks I find funny, engaging and happy to be alive enjoying life.

And I was sick for a short while. No, not the kind of illness that brings one to death's door but one that was nonetheless debilitating. And no fun, if I may say.

Anyway, here's what our spring and summer have been like, in part and so far. . .

First up, the butterflies at Meijer Gardens with Susie, her sister Mary and Mary's daughter Mallory.

Cut to Memorial Day, which is a pretty big deal here in the USA.  The idea for "memorialization" of past lives grew out of the American Civil War. The veterans of that horrendous conflict as well as their friends and families determined it was important to recall, indeed to remember annually the sacrifice made by so many to preserve the Union. As a kid growing up in central Illinois I remember my folks calling it "decoration day" since we would go out to visit the folks who have long since shuffled off this mortal coil to place a vase of flowers on their graves.

Anyway, we thought we'd visit the cemetery before heading out to Clear Lake for some quality family time and good food.

Susan and her mom visiting Tunis VandenBerg's grave

Melissa Ten Have Loaney

Melissa, Jeff and Laurie

Bernice, Melissa and Susie

June saw another trip back to Meijer Gardens, this time along with family visiting from Chicagoland.  Anyway, I learned that the Orchid Corner has been renamed in honor of Anne Frank and the children who died in the Holocaust.

Susan

Later in the month we had a chance to catch a fascinating discussion about Fortunato no. 4 chocolate by its sole producer at Patricia's Chocolate in Grand Haven.

I can never refuse a shot of the pier at Grand Haven.

After the talk Susie and I headed back into Grand Rapids and had dinner at Søvengård on the city's west side.

Small plug here for one of my projects this year: I'm prepping for a presentation on the men of the 3rd Michigan buried in Fulton Street Cemetery in Grand Rapids (21 to be exact) and am updating some of photography.

Fulton Street Cemetery is the oldest cemetery in the city (1838) and is the final resting place of many of the city's early settlers and more illustrious (and undoubtedly not-so-illustrious) characters.

Earlier in July we took a day trip up to Ludington, Michigan and checked out the state park and its beach -- both worth a stop, especially if you're keen on Lake Michigan.

After we left Ludington, we spent an hour or two touring the backroads of Mason County away from the lake and came across this bit of whimsy. . . . Enjoy your summer!

Snow days and school closures

Just in case you ever wondered . . .

Map by Sasha Trubetskoy - visit https://sashat.me/2014/01/29/snow-days/

Denny and Ronny

Denny Nicola, class of 1965, Champaign High School. Killed in Vietnam 1967. Information. A good friend I turned around one day and realized he was gone before I made my way "down south."

Ronny Lovellette. Class of 1966, Champaign High School. Killed in Vietnam 1969. Information.

We spent our last night together in Chicago before you headed off to the Army and I left for the Marines. The last time I saw you. But it was a wild night, eh Ronny?

Paris to Grand Rapids in 36 hours

Orly

When we woke up Sunday the weather had turned a bit foul with a chilly rain. A good day to leave France, I suppose. We had another in a long line of leisurely breakfasts and enjoyed just hanging out with the MacDonalds. They’re returning to the United States this summer so we won’t see them again in Lille.

Eventually it came time to say goodbye. We grabbed our bags and walked the five minutes or so to the parking garage. Five minutes after that we were on our way out of Lille and with the help of GPS on our way south to our hotel near Orly airport.

Since we had a Monday morning nonstop flight to Newark (where we left our Subaru for the drive back to Michigan), we thought we’d stay by the airport Sunday evening and made reservations at the Novotel Rungis (Rungis is where the food wholesalers moved when the Les Halles in central Paris was closed in 1971).

After an uneventful three hour drive we found the hotel, checked in and dropped off our bags. We then returned the car to Avis at the airport, a bare 2 kms away — finding the correct road to the rental car return was a small ordeal in and of itself since construction is in process for the 2024 Olympics. But we triumphed once again and finally made our way to the shuttle pickup point and back to the hotel.

That evening we had a quiet meal — quite a good one at that — at the hotel and went to bed early.

Monday we were up early, showered and after breakfast caught the 7:12 shuttle to Orly. Making our way to the British Airways desk we had a short wait before they started taking checkins. But we were soon through airport security with boarding passes in hand and off to our gate. Boarding was to begin at 10:15.

10:15 came and no announcement; 10:30 nothing. Finally at 10:45, 15 minutes before departure they announced our flight was cancelled due to “technical problems” and we would have to go down to baggage services, retrieve our bags and back up to check-in to rebook.

So began our odyssey to get back to the United States. After waiting for two hours in line we were rebooked on a flight from Charles de Gaulle to JFK via London Heathrow. How we were supposed to get to Newark was never explained.

Anyway, after much confusion, lack of guidance and general chaos we were bussed to the northern part of Paris, checked in, dropped off our bags and boarded the short flight to London. We had to dash from Terminal A to B at Heathrow’s Terminal 5 to our connecting flight as they were just getting ready to close the doors.Whew! - we made it.

More than seven hours later, at about 9 pm we landed at JFK and were pushed through the swarm of immigration control. We were eventually declared fit to enter the United States and retrieved our bags. We were pretty tired by this time and had decided earlier to book a room near JFK for the night and make our way to Newark the next day. We had to take the air train to a central shuttle location and call our hotel (the Crowne-Plaza JFK). They soon arrived and before long we were checked in and in bed.

Somewhere along the way we learned that the only shuttle from JFK to Newark required going to the Port Authority in Manhattan and then connecting to Newark. Nope, not going to do that. So the next morning after breakfast we had the hotel arrange a car service. Our driver, a former professional cricket star from Guyana whose heritage is Indian soon picked us up and after 45 minutes of stress-free driving as he calmly talked about his life and engaged us in casual, friendly conversation, he dropped us off at our car park near the airport.

His name is Marlon Isaac (business name) and you can reach him at 347-403-2533 or Mkalli691@gmail.com.

We loaded our bags into our car, paid our bill and headed off to make our way to I-80 and Michigan. Eager to get home and tired of eating on the road, we opted to drive straight through, which we did. With both of us driving off-and-on some twelve hours after leaving the carpark in New Jersey we pulled into the parking lot at Meijer, our go-to grocery store near our home in Grand Rapids, to grab a couple of essentials for breakfast.

Fatigued and now both under the weather, since I had been thoughtful enough to give Susan my cold, we were thrilled and thankful to be home.

It had taken some 36 hours to get from Paris to Grand Rapids. We won't do that again anytime soon if ever.