Michelle's Musings

I would be remiss if I did not dedicate this column to someone who loved Middleton and worked to make it a better place–Jeff Martin.

Jeff passed away suddenly last week, leaving members of the community who knew him at the Middleton Area Historical Society (MAHS), volunteered with him at community events, such as Good Neighbor Fest, or enjoy his skilled photography shocked and saddened.

Jeff provided photos to the Times-Tribune for years and I have worked with him to bring “History Spotlight” to the newspaper each month. He was a big supporter of print media and was raised around newspapers. His father and two grandfathers were small town, newspaper men in Michigan, my home state.

I was also looking forward to working with him on the MAHS Newsletter, which I will be taking on in March. Jeff was very dedicated to preserving the history, and could often be seen working at the Rowley House and the MAHS’s annual Ice Cream & Pie Social his wife, Jan.

“Don’t sit there!” my four-year-old voice exclaimed from across the cavernous living room. 

“Fee is sitting there,” I then proclaimed.

Fee was my imaginary friend. I don’t quite remember when he joined our family, but he was typically present at parties, holidays and other events. My family, quite respectful of Fee and his need for his own space, would oblige when I demanded they not sit on him, give him food or go on family outing.

He was by my side when I was sick, which was a regular occurrence because I was living with undiagnosed allergies. So, when I would get sick with strep throat or some other infectious illness doctors would give me penicillin, not realizing I was allergic to it. This meant I was in bed a lot and Fee would sit in my room with me. 

One of the things I really try not to do is engage with people on social media. It is a losing proposition, and you almost never influence a strangers view on politics or hot button issues.

Something I can’t tolerate, though, is sexism. I have fought hard to become an educated, thoughtful and independent woman, and I feel the need to call out sexism when I see it. I feel that it is my duty to honor the women who came before me and fought for my right to choose birth control, go to college, get a loan, own property, have a credit card, own a business–you get the idea.

I was outside in the garden on Labor Day ripping multiple layers of landscape fabric from a garden at our new house when I her the cry of a lone cicada. Not the raucous and loud waning in and out cadence they beat out at the heart of summer when it is first getting hot, and they emerge from the ground. This was a slow, low and steady sound–monotone, even–reminding me that another summer is about to slip through my fingers as the trees slowly begin to switch from green to much showier reds, yellows, oranges and purples.

My grandpa had a friend named Jay who owned several horses that competed on the local harness race circuit back in the 1970s. They would go to county fairs around Michigan during the racing season, which was typically late spring through early fall, sometimes winning, sometimes not.

When I was in my 20s and early 30s, I move a lot, and I do mean a lot. As I have grown older, I have had less desire to change residence every year or two, opting to stay in one place. Note, I did not say put down roots, because I believe your roots are attached to a location, not the home you occupy. 

I made a fast trip to Michigan over the weekend and the couple of days following. 

I hadn’t planned to go to see my family for the usual Fourth of July festivities, but the work schedule at my new house was stepped up. We couldn’t be in there walking around because the floors were getting refinished, so it seemed like the perfect time for a break.

By coincidence or happenstance, my cousin’s funeral ended up being on July 3. Dan was one of my favorite relatives. Always positive, intelligent, a good conversationalist. (We all have the “gift of gab” in my family.) 

Dan was an engaged and loving father and would do anything for the people he cared about. He was a mechanic, carpenter and musician. As a drummer in the ‘70s, Dan tried out for the Silver Bullet Band, and although he was not chosen, I thought he was so cool when I was a kid. He was 15 years older than me.

There is something that has been weighing heavily on my thoughts. The failure of Amazon workers to give the nod to a forming a union with the Retail, Wholesale and Department Store Union at a warehouse in Bessemer, AL.

I know this event happened weeks ago, but I have been mulling around all of the things that I read about the possibility for all workers if we could revive or reform our unions again. When it was voted down it bought a lot of thoughts and memories because I have watched the demise of labor unions in the US.

I know at times over the past year plus I have sounded like a broken record pleading, begging, cajoling and demanding that people wear masks in public. I do this because there are people in our society that need a constant reminder to do the right thing to protect others.

Well, today I want to plead, beg, cajole and demand that everyone eligible (16 and over right now), get a COVID-19 vaccine. Vaccines have been around for decades, and the vaccines on the market for COVID-19 have been thoroughly tested, despite being developed in a short amount of time. In fact, data from current trial results are being examined and the 12-15 age group will likely be approved for the Pfizer vaccine next week. 

I totally understand the initial “wait and see” attitude that some people have had, but those that still blatantly refuse in spite of five months of vaccinations, no longer have that excuse. You have waited, you have seen others get vaccinated, now it’s your turn.

Many years ago, when I began taking journalism classes at a community college, I was tasked with writing a paper about a timely topic. The assignment included writing an investigative news story and then explaining the process you went through in attaining information, interviewing, organizing, etc. 

The topic I chose for this assignment was Lake Erie recovering from being declared a dead lake in the 1960s due to decades of pollutants being tossed in the water. It was once thought that you could throw anything into the Great Lakes and it would just magically disappear–not unlike a magician’s rabbit. Of course, humans learned the hard way that this was not the case, and many of the contaminants have and will linger for years to come.