CRUISING THE LOOP

When we turned sixteen,

my best friend, Butch Johnson,

was the first kid in the tenth grade 

to have his own car, 

a 1939 Ford coupe,

seating three in the front seat, 

three in the rumble seat, 

and two on the running boards. 

Our gang cruised the loop 

on weekend evenings, 

circling the main streets 

of twin cities Menominee and Marinette, 

starting at Electric Square, 

so named because it was Menominee’s first intersection 

to have electric lights. 

We’d pass the churches and the courthouse 

on Ogden Avenue, 

whistling at the girls out for a walk. 

Talking about teen stuff, 

mostly sex, which nobody

knew anything about 

though it was still more than I knew. 

When we stopped 

at Menominee’s sole traffic light 

and another kid drove up 

a drag race was obligatory, 

with the two cars accelerating 

down Ogden Ave. 

up to fifty miles per hour. 

Then we’d stop for gas at the 

Zephyr station next to the Interstate Bridge, 

nineteen point nine cents per gallon 

except when a local gas war was on 

and it dropped to nine-point-nine. 

Each rider chipped in a nickel or a dime, 

plenty to cover fuel expenses

for the evening. 

The half-mile Interstate Bridge 

spanned the Menominee River, 

connecting the two towns,

terminating at its south end 

in downtown Marinette at Dunlap Square 

where we’d see our twelfth-grade high school 

social studies teacher, Ferdie Davis, 

strolling with a fellow teacher 

and discussing literature or philosophy. 

We might stop at the A&W in Marinette 

for a root beer float. 

Passing my grandpa’s drug store, the Dew Drop Inn, 

and the Salvation Army on Main Street 

we entered Menekaunee, 

originally a fishing village 

and now notorious 

as the region’s toughest neighborhood, 

including a strip 

of six rough-and-tumble bars 

where it was rumored 

that someone would get murdered 

almost ever weekend. 

Then we drove across the Menekaunee Bridge, 

a drawbridge that opened when sailboats 

left Green Bay and headed for their river harbor, 

an irksome nuisance for impatient teenage drivers, 

and headed north on Sheridan Road, 

passing Menominee’s finest homes along the bay shore, 

and returning to Electric Square 

where we would start our trip all over again. 

Now, some seventy years later, 

each time I visit my home town 

the first thing I do is to 

cruise the loop.

TIMES OF OUR LIVES

 

Whenever I dropped by Uncle Kent’s drugstore 

Lucien, the pharmacist, would tell me 

“Cheer up, this is the best time of your life 

“You’re as free as you ever will be” 

I didn’t believe Lucien for a moment 

I guess I was a most mopy youth 

But now I’ve made a list from those childhood days 

Holy mackerel, Lucien was telling the truth 

Crawl right through a barbed wire fence 

Overnight camping, pitch pup tents 

Boardwalk, Park Place, such huge rents 

Capture fireflies in a Mason jar 

Ride the toboggan behind our car 

Search the heavens, there’s the North Star 

Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, a cool double feature 

Bring a spring trillium to my teacher 

That’s a porcupine, a weird weird creature 

Press autumn leaves inside a book 

Catch wiggly tadpoles in the brook 

Dribble, dribble, shoot a hook 

Cops and robbers in the yard 

Twenty Questions, that’s so hard 

Love that Groucho, what a card 

Step on a crack, break your mother’s back 

Two oreos for an afternoon snack 

Put a penny on the railroad track 

Listen to neighbors on the party line 

Eat green grapes right off the vine 

Tie pine logs with heavy twine 

Ride no handsies on my bike 

Swim the river with our setter Mike 

Make a hole in the ice, fish for pike 

Laugh at Jack on the Benny Show

Bury two peach pits, hope they’ll grow 

Make an angel in the snow 

Turn a turtle upside down 

Go trick or treating as a clown 

Triangle Park, I score a touchdown 

Climb to the top of the willow tree

Spread mud on the bite of a bumble bee 

Tease little sister, so much glee 

G.I. Surplus, buy some gear 

Grade school football, give a cheer 

Sixth grade’s coming, one more year 

Ten cents for the matinee 

Make a jar from river clay 

Snapping turtles, stay away 

Poke the ant hill with a stick 

Easter morn, get a new chick

Back from hiking, find a tick 

Catch a crayfish by its tail 

Dick Tracy wristwatch, check the mail 

Put fishing worms in the pail 

Summer’s here, YMCA camp 

Night-time basketball, use a desk lamp 

Joe Louis, Brown Bomber, he’s the champ 

Acorn battles with my brother 

Make a valentine for my mother 

Eat one carrot, then another 

Headfirst on the slide at Henes Park 

Secret messages on birch bark 

Tell a ghost story in the dark 

Buck Rogers serials, endless fun 

Cowboys and Indians with my cap gun 

Ring a doorbell, turn and run 

Skip a stone across the lake 

Santa’s coming, stay awake 

Beautiful Mary Jane, first heartache 

Now I realize that Lucien was right 

All those fun things that I used to do 

A long time since I did any of them 

Perhaps I’ll go back and try a few

A TRIP TO MENOMINEE

 

A ten-hour road trip to Farm 

Day One, through Chicago and Milwaukee 

Finally a motel in Sheboygan 

And only one eighty-two fifty 

The Marinette Best Western, our local respite 

A grand view of my home town’s skyline 

Scrambled eggs and sausage each breakfast 

We slept like oak logs until nine 

Farm could be featured in “Better Homes and Gardens” 

Jim cleared a new space by the coop 

New roofs on most of the buildings 

A welcoming abode for our group 

Our parents’ presence was everywhere 

The organ refinished by Doris 

Vic’s photos, oils, and stained glass 

A paradise they passed on to us 

Jennifer, Wynn, and Ingrid drove here from Seattle

Jacob and Delphine flew in from Brooklyn 

Justin, Alex, and Leo traveled from NOLA 

Katja and I, the last to come in 

Justin has great fun with his cousins 

Many jokes, lots of laughter and smiles

An only child, his cuz are like siblings 

Well worth it to travel those miles 

The youth had their fun time at Farm 

Shooting B-B’s, riding bikes, doing art 

Alex and Leo and Ingrid and Delphine 

Growing up evermore and so smart 

Co-Co and Osa were also there 

Seattle poodles, filled with play 

They raced about, rolled over on their backs 

Delighting the humans every day 

Justin was teaching his kids to drive 

Back and forth on our road, M-3 Drive 

This struck me as a little bit scary 

But they both gave their dad a high-five 

Menominee’s the new home of six cannabis stores 

They’re lined up on Highway Forty-One 

I askedif I could buy a few gummies 

Katja scowled, “No way under the sun”

Justin brought us pasties for supper 

A reminder we were in the U.P. 

I have to conclude they were tasty 

Eaters gobbled them up with such glee. 

On Saturday we did all the yard sales 

A great buy, Katja’s colorful rooster 

Justin found me a Maroon tennis cap 

Now I’ll be an out-of-town booster 

We toured the Marinette thrift shops 

Goodwill and St. Vincent de Paul 

One buck for a Menominee River T-shirt 

Plus “Oconto Golf”, quite a good haul 

We devoured our burgers at Mickey-Lu 

They’re voted the tastiest in the state 

Butter burgers and scrumptious buns 

Plus thick chocolate malts, flat-out great 

Main Street Antiques was thriving 

The top floor, Rusty Wolfe’s fine art 

I searched for Lundgren Drugstore bottles 

Once again my fruitless quest broke my heart

I love to cruise around the Loop 

The best part is Menekaunee 

I told the kids, there’s a murder each week 

I’m not totally sure they believed me 

Every day we hung out in the gazebo 

I’d say Jennifer’s the life of the party 

She reminds me a lot of her dad 

With the bonus that she’s much more arty 

Jim and Sharon paid us a visit 

The longstanding caretakers of Farm 

They keep the property shipshape 

And guard it from every kind of harm 

A family night out at Berg’s Landing 

A long-time tradition from Vic 

Walleye for me, filet mignon for Katja 

Berg’s continues to excel at their trick 

We did a quick tour of Henes Park 

The new bathhouse, a splendid addition 

The views of Green Bay are glorious 

John B. Henes accomplished his mission 

We accompanied Jacob to the river 

Vicki’s property was again looking swell 

We had a nice chat with neighbor Troy 

He still dreams that my sister might sell 

Jacob treated us to lunch at Jozwiak’s 

Their famous burger, the Wabash 

Vic and Doris’s favorite hangout 

Beer and burgers, they spent lots of cash 

Before we knew it, the time came to leave 

Tons of family photos in the front yard 

Hugs and kisses and sayonaras 

Goodbyes are always too hard 

I’m pleased that we came on this trip 

It keeps me in touch with my history 

The river, the bay, the forests, the town 

A world that enjoys its own mystery

UNALTERABLE JOY

 

Every five or six months

my father would bundle us up 

and take us after hours

to my grandfather’s Rexall drugstore

on Electric Square. 

Inside the dark store he’d let us loose

behind the soda fountain, 

encouraging us to create any ice cream 

concoction we wanted. 

The only rule: if we made it 

we had to eat it. 

As the oldest of four 

I always constructed 

the most mammoth sundae.

Six giant scoops of ice cream, 

a mix of vanilla, strawberry, 

chocolate, and butter brickle. 

Then the tongue-teasing syrups:

butterscotch, cherry, raspberry, 

chocolate, strawberry, 

peppermint, caramel, 

Topped off with globs of whipped cream, 

a fistful of crushed nuts, 

and three maraschino cherries. 

Maybe even a banana. 

So magnificent, so delicious. 

If we finished and were still hungry, 

we’d simply make another. 

Holy moly cajoley. 

These were the most thrilling 

moments of my youth. 

My father was a stoical man, 

born of Swedish Lutheranism 

and hardly taken to extremes, 

but he’d suffer uncharacteristic 

lapses into hedonism, 

and his offspring 

were the fortunate beneficiaries.

WHERE I AM FROM

 

I was born and grew up in Menominee, Michigan,

the seat of Menominee County, 

on the Michigan-Wisconsin border, 

the gateway to the Upper Peninsula, 

halfway between the Equator and the North Pole, 

population about 10,000 in 1940, 

the fourth largest city in the U.P., 

bordered by the Menominee River to the south 

and Lake Michigan’s bay of Green Bay to the east, 

twin city to Marinette, Wisconsin, 

172 miles north of Milwaukee, 

120 miles south of Lake Superior. 

5.2 square miles, I could reach any 

point in town on my bike in ten minutes. 

Menominee has always enjoyed perfect air, 

its stars glisten at night, 

its water quality is excellent, 

summer temperatures in the seventies, 

and winters enjoy an average 

annual snowfall of 48 inches.* 

“Menominee” means “land of wild rice”, 

the staple of the Menominee Indians 

who originally populated the region. 

The world capital of logging in the 1890’s, 

Menominee was destined 

to become a manufacturing town: 

paper products, wicker furniture, auto supplies. 

The business district spreads along the Green Bay shore. 

Montgomery Ward, the A&P grocery store, 

the Five and Dime, the G.I. Surplus store, 

the Vogue for women’s clothes. 

Once home to fur trappers, lumberjacks, and Great Lakes seamen, 

Menominee in my youth was a man’s world. 

My mother and her women friends 

each raised three or four children, 

managed their households, 

tended eye-catching gardens, 

and were skilled at hostessing 

grand parties in their homes. 

Men were breadwinners and captains of the ship, 

fanatic about the Green Bay Packers, 

spent days at hunting camp each November, 

played poker weekly, drank 

too much, told raunchy stories. 

As boys we learned that males 

should be strong, independent, 

athletic, emotionally unexpressive, 

and disinterested in school. 

Boys took wood shop and auto shop, 

girls took home ec and typing. 

As a small town in a rural region 

Menominee had no art museums or galleries, 

no community exposure to classical music, 

no professional theater, 

a low percentage of college graduates. 

One traffic light, two movie theaters, 

one public and one parochial high school, 

eight taverns, fifteen churches. 

Two dips of ice cream cost a nickel at the Ideal Dairy. 

Diversity was an unknown concept. 

Ninety-nine percent white, 

ninety-nine percent Christian 

(among those professing religion). 

A blue-collar Democratic stronghold in my youth, 

65 percent of residents voted for Trump in 2020. 

High school football reigns supreme. 

The M&M (Menominee-Marinette) game 

is the oldest interstate public school rivalry in the nation, 

and the Menominee Maroons have won three state championships

in their division in the last 25 years. 

Crime was infrequent, and parents never worried 

about letting their children run free in the neighborhood. 

Menominee’s most attractive features 

have to do with its outdoor life. 

It’s an important Lake Michigan port, 

hosts a thriving marina, 

and many locals own sailboats or power boats. 

Menominee County has the largest 

deer population in the U.P., 

and schools closed each year for the first day of hunting season. 

Nearly every family owns guns, 

and the annual murder rate is almost always zero. 

Green Bay beaches are numerous, 

and Menominee has some of the best bass fishing in the nation. 

There are seven golf courses in the area. 

 Camping, swimming, hiking, biking, 

snowmobiling, skating, ice-sailing, cross-country skiing. 

 It’s a good place for kids to grow up 

although a majority usually leave for more cosmopolitan places. 

 *Stats from: www.city-data.com

OUR U.P. ROAD TRIP: A VILLANELLE

 

A grand adventure with our frisky CR-V 

Passing Milwaukee the very first day 

We are back in the wild and wondrous U.P.  

Lunch break at Culvers in Wausaukee 

Butterburgers, custard, our diets now astray 

A grand adventure with our frisky CR-V 

The Interstate Bridge to Menominee 

Sheridan Road tracks the shore of Green Bay 

We are back in the wild and wondrous U.P. 

Our family is here, such hoopla and glee 

The kids at Farm do their artwork and play 

A grand adventure with our frisky CR-V 

Katja does the fudge store, the thrift shops for me 

My birthday at Berg’s Landing, the high point of our stay 

We are back in the wild and wondrous U.P. 

A time to share, be laid back and carefree 

It feeds one’s soul to travel so far away 

A grand adventure with our frisky CR-V 

We are back in the wild and wondrous U.P.

LEMON FLAKE

 

If I were to live my life over 

And could choose just five things to repeat 

My very first choice would be Lemon Flake 

Since age ten it’s my number one treat 

They made Lemon Flake at the Ideal Dairy 

They charged just two dips for a nickel 

All of their flavors were scrumptious 

Pineapple and Peach, not to mention Butter Brickle 

 On Sundays my dad brought us to the Ideal 

 Just up the road on Route Five-Seventy-Seven 

 He let us order all the dips that we wanted 

 For kids this was better than Heaven 

 Lemon Flake, of course, was always my choice 

 So creamy and tangy and rich 

 I’d drool at the very thought of it 

 One lick, my nose started to itch 

I’d stop after school, buy a six dip cone 

Ride home on my bike with one hand 

Six dips would last the entire mile 

Who could imagine anything more grand? 

The Ideal shut down after I moved away 

I’ve searched for Lemon Flake every year 

Not in Chicago, New York, or Green Bay 

Gone forever is my doleful fear 

Quicksand Terrors

The Best of Times

My father came home from the war

but we still didn’t have any money

so we moved out of town

into my dead grandpa’s cottage on the river.

Set among the great oaks

the only house on the whole River Road.

No electricity, no telephone

no running water, no indoor toilet.

In the winter it took the county

three days to come and plow.

Our own private school holidays.

We pioneers of the Great White North

like Daniel Boone or Paul Bunyan himself.

My job every evening

was to light the candles

and the two kerosene lanterns

on the living room mantle. 

Our water came from the pump out front.

I carried the buckets to my mother

to fill the dog’s bowl, to brush our teeth.

Before bedtime I walked my little brother to the outhouse

keeping an eye out for creatures of the night. 

We took our baths in the river

even my mother and father

though I learned many years later

that our river was dirty. 

My happiest times in those years on River Road

were walking with my dad to the city dump

a half mile up the road

pulling my red wagon behind us

to carry home the treasures we found. 

I searched for bottle caps

to add to my collection

while my dad looked for household furnishings.

A bedside table with a broken leg

a discarded flower vase

an ashtray from somebody’s Florida vacation

rusty old tools.

We lacked this and that but

we loved our life on the river.

The swimming, our green rowboat

with its one horsepower motor,

birches and pines, expeditions to Pig Island.

After two years the Meads and the Orths built houses nearby

and the county installed electric lines on River Road.

Our world would never be quite the same.

Hoops Mania

I’d barely heard of basketball 

But then at Washington Grade School 

our sixth grade class formed a team

Bobby and Dick, Tommy and Gundy,

Kenny and Jim, also Roger

My parents never noticed  

But my grandfather, my dear Swedish grandfather

insisted that I join the team

I cried, I complained

Procrastinated, sulked

Scared out of my wits 

But Grandfather forced me 

The smallest kid in the class

All the others, tougher, more confident

We played at the Presbyterian Church

I sat at the end of the bench

…as far from the coach as possible 

Praying he wouldn’t notice me

I played a few minutes in the middle of each game

I don’t recall that I ever scored

one — single — point

Or even touched the ball 

After the season was over

my grandfather put up a basketball hoop

over the garage door in our driveway 

My brother Steven was my practice partner

I was four years older, six inches taller

But Steven was as fierce as a wolverine

We played horse, twenty-one, and one-on-one

Dodging, spinning, rebounding

Shooting free throws from out near the oak tree

Dribbling the ball on the loose cinder

After many weeks

we’d make a few shots

The snowstorms arrived in late fall 

We shoveled our court and played on the ice

Shedding our coats in the freezing temp

Slipping and falling but bouncing back up

After sunset we brought out a desk lamp

Hooked it up to the extension cord

And aimed the light toward the hoop

We’d stay out till bedtime

Sweaty, exhausted

Happy, excited

In junior high our group played in the gym at lunchtime

Then I’d go to the D.A.R. Boys Club after school

Deeny-Boy was my practice partner

I dreamt I might play for the Minneapolis Lakers 

If only I could perfect my twenty-foot shot

This dream, like most others, never came true

But still I learned many lessons

How to win and lose with humility

            to move on from painful losses

That playing by the rules is important

That success takes a long time

and hard work  

I owe a big debt to my grandfather

We always need help 

to figure out how best to live our lives 

Circa 1949: An Anaphoric Poem

I remember icicles that stretched from the roof to the ground

I remember pulling bloodsuckers from between our toes after swimming

I remember lugging my red wagon to the city dump with my dad to bring home good stuff

I remember capturing garter snakes from under the rocks in my mother’s garden

I remember swimming across the river with my dad following in the rowboat

I remember listening in on the neighbors on our party-line phone

I remember a flock of pheasants parading through our front yard

I remember stealing carrots and blackberries from Mrs. Mead’s garden

I remember when our road turned to mud in the spring and we couldn’t go to school

I remember climbing with my siblings to the top of the willow tree

I remember being scared of quicksand when we walked in waist-deep water to Mr. Shaver’s

I remember slashing my thumb with a hatchet on a Pig Island camping trip

I remember biking to the Ideal Dairy to buy lemon flake ice cream, two dips for a nickel

I remember the six-foot pine snakes that sunned in our front yard

I remember when our Irish Setter Mike fell through the ice and my mother rescued him

I remember poking sticks into an anthill and watching the ants go crazy

I remember my eating mother’s whitefish, pot roast, and potato sausage

I remember counting “I love you, I love you not” with the petals of a Black-Eyed Susan

I remember running barefoot races in the snow

I remember my dad towing us behind the car on our toboggan

I remember listening to Jack Benny and Duffy’s Tavern on Sunday night radio

I remember emptying dead bodies from the mousetraps

I remember when they opened the dams and drained all the water out of the river

I remember finding lost change under the sofa cushions (which my dad had

deliberately put there)

I remember when I threw acorns at my brother and he fell out of the oak tree

I remember singing “Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall” at the outdoor fireplace

I remember my parents and their friends drinking Silver Cream beer

I remember when we killed the flying bat in our living room with a cast iron frying pan

I remember loving Captain Marvel comic books

I remember when the ice went out on “Chinese Bells Day”

I remember my uncle Karl urging me to dig up the “Indian burial mound” in our

back yard

I remember when Steve and I spilled red airplane dope on our brand new carpet

I remember being scared of the ghosts while riding my bike past the cemetery at night

I remember blowing milkweed seeds into the wind

I remember when Steve shot the snapping turtle with our bow and arrow

I remember my mother telling me I wasn’t perfect

I remember our dog swimming behind the boat when we traveled half a mile for a family 

picnic on Indian Island

I remember when we saw a mud puppy through the ice on the river’s floor

I remember collecting nightcrawlers for fishing on the cemetery lawn after a heavy rain

I remember when our dog Mike got porcupine quills stuck in his nose

I remember when Steve and I lit the hoop with a desk lamp so we could

play basketball at night on the frozen driveway

I remember when we shot at tin cans and bottles in the river with the twenty-two

I remember everything about being twelve years old

Creatures From Our Youth: Six Shadorma*

The Elusive Pine Snake

Six feet long

Lazing in the sun

Slinks along

Ribs so strong

Pine snake’s jaunt has just begun

Never captured one

The Mosquito’s Demise

Thief in flight

Searching for red blood

Finds its site

Poised to bite

I smack that bandit, Whack!  Thud!

Messy end to fight 

The Dog’s Lesson 

Porcupine

Nests high in the oak

Set to dine

Twigs and vine

Gives our dog a painful poke

Quills in nose, huge whine 

The Fearsome Snapping Turtle 

Jaws of steel

Swims past us at dusk 

So surreal 

Fear we feel

Ancient creature, massive, brusque

Eyes us for his meal

Bloodsucker Invasion 

On my shin

My legs or my toes

Breaks the skin

Sucks blood in

Then it hides out in my clothes

Much to my chagrin

The Bat Scare 

Flies through room 

Our mom calls for aid 

Dive and zoom

Grab the broom 

Get him, Steve is unafraid 

Swift bat meets his doom 

*Similar to a haiku, a shadorma is a six-line poem with 3, 5, 3, 3, 7, and 5 syllables per line.  It can be rhymed or unrhymed.  

Sailboating Days

                   I

                  Do

                  See

                  Sail

                  Boats

                  In the

                  Mooring

                  Ready to

                  Brave the

                  High waves

                  Come aboard

                  Bold sailors

                  And make your

                  Selves at home

                  We embark on an

                  Adventurous trip

                  In twenty minutes

                  Cedar River & then

                  Off to Sturgeon Bay

                  & west to Egg Harbor

                  Such a

                  Dreamy 

                  Voyage

Menominee is situated right along the Green Bay shore

 Our First St marina, home to hundreds of sailboats

  Family friends: O’Haras, Caleys, Hoods & others

   Would host us on watery treks to Door County

    Jovial outings aside from my sea sickness

Menominee River Creatures

Our crayfish dug homes in the river floor

They’d dart in their holes when we neared

Their sharp little claws were like lobsters

Nonetheless, it was humans they feared

Snapping turtles drifted by at dusk

Steve shot a huge buck with his bow

We towed it to shore with our green rowboat

Turtle murder, that made us feel low

The Great Blue Heron is a wading bird

She grows over four feet in height

And loves to eat fish and water bugs

So thrilling to see her in flight 

The otter had nests on the river bank

Steve captured a bunch with his trap

He sold their pelts for fifty cents each

To a down and out grungy old chap

Mallards are the most handsome duck of all

The male shows off his green head 

I went hunting for ducks with Dick Sawyer

But never took a shot, when all’s said 

Mudpuppies surely are the ugliest

And they live over twenty long years

They like to eat minnows and fish eggs

Near the top of my childhood river fears 

The loons lived together in the Channel

These are birds that can fly very fast 

They swim underwater to hunt for fish  

And head South when the summer is past 

The clams lay quietly near the shoreline 

We’d step on one when we’d go in 

For kicks we would pry their shells open 

An act which I now call a sin 

There were millions of minnows all summer

They swam in the shallow warm water

Life as a minnow was perilous

Being favorite snacks of the otter

We might see a seagull every now and then

Though Green Bay was three miles away

I worried the seagulls had gotten off course 

Though they never seemed to show much dismay

Water bugs swam near the river bank

They flitted about, here and there

There were hundreds of buglets in each big swarm

Every one of them heading nowhere