Traverse City

I wear two wedding rings — a fat gold band on my left hand and a slim silver one on my right. The silver ring has a pattern of double hearts and belonged to my Great Aunt Ruth, who was my grandmother’s sister and the happiest member of our family.

When I moved to Traverse City in 1970, I had a master’s degree and years of experience, but I couldn’t find a job. Desperate to pay the rent, I followed up on a “Gal Friday” position at the local newspaper.

I sit at the kitchen table with my husband before dinner. We’re drinking a beer and eating pretzels and talking about the day. And while we’re talking, I look over his shoulder out the window where gray-bellied clouds are moving across a blue sky.

Behind our old house, we have several tall Norway spruce trees which provide pleasant shade. They also keep grass from growing but a big patch of English ivy has thrived. Until last summer when I noticed a few brown spots. This year, half the patch was brown and I was alarmed.

The 4th annual event features over three-dozen music acts across 27 porches, this Sunday, September 11th.

Years ago, when I was writing a weekly column for the Traverse City Record-Eagle, I began receiving invitations to give speeches.

The library for Traverse City West High school is not just a place to checkout books.

“Stand up straight,” my mother reminded me almost every day during my teen years.

I met Fred at a fraternity party, a big burly guy with a handsome face and deep voice.

My father grew up poor and was stingy all his life—even when he had money.