Beaver Island School
Thursday, August 10 - 12:00 noon - 5:45 p.m.
Must have photo ID or donor card to donate
Sponsored by Beaver Island Christian Church, Holy Cross Catholic Church & St. James Episcopal Church
For details call: Lars 448-2470, Jean 448-2893, Connie 448-2379, or Jerry 448-2296
If you've been to the library within the past two weeks you've seen the stupendous quilts the Island Quilters have made. From traditional to modern, from island scenes to attached beaver pelts, each one is totally unique. The quilters are to be commended for allowing us to feast our eyes on their works of art. You can actually win one of these masterpieces. The Island Quilt will be raffled off Labor Day weekend. Tickets are available at Island Energies, McDonough's Market, Whimsy, and Beaver Gems.
A golf outing to honor Jerry Sowa, who not only served the PSJA as a Board member, but a friend of all who had the pleasure of knowing him. No one loved the game of "GOLF" more than Jerry who worked tireless hours promoting the game both on Beaver Island during the summer and in Hemit, California in the winter.
In his honor the PSJA would like to hold an annual Golf Outing on the Friday evening preceding the annual PSJA Picnic not only to remember Jerry, but to enable our members to get to know both other PSJA members and others in the community. Jerry was not just a part of the PSJA, but a long time resident of Beaver Island who's one great love was organizing and running the annual 4th of July Golf tournament. All Beaver Island residents and visitors are welcome!
1st place team . . . . . . . .$100.00
2nd place team . . . . . . . . . 60.00
3rd place team. . . . . . . . . . 40.00
Winning Team members will get their names put on a Plaque that will be placed on the wall of the Beaver Island Golf Course Clubhouse in Jerry's honor.
To sign up, to be placed on a team, or to enter your 4-person team please contact Buck Ridgeway at 231-448-2680 or email address: email@example.com by Tuesday, August 1st. If you have any questions please call. If not home leave a message and number and I will call you back ASAP.
THERE WILL BE A CLOSEST TO THE PIN CONTEST ON #4 & #7 (MUST BE ON GREEN) AND LONGEST DRIVE ON #7 (MUST BE IN THE FAIRWAY) CONTEST. YOU MAY ENTER BOTH FOR $5. THE MONEY COLLECTED FROM ENTRIES WILL BE DIVIDED BY 3.
As some of you know, I've been pretty busy for the last two decades. If I wasn't playing music with my son in a country rock band, or teaching school, I was busy helping >>>> ill and injured patients for BIEMS but this year I vowed to reacquaint myself with a hobby that I had many years ago - fishing.
It was a beautiful summer day - July 20th - my anniversary. Phyllis and I have been married 35 years. She had to work at the library, it's been seeing 300 people walk through the doorway each day. This is partly due to the here-to-for unknown Internet hot spot known as the BIDL wireless Internet access - when it works - for free. Thirteen wireless laptops were connected here on this day. But back to my day at Fox Lake. I have been reading a lot about how the nasty cormorants have been truly devastating the fishery here and I've been reluctant to try out my new float tube. I spent all morning finding the pieces to put together a fishing trip to Fox Lake. I found my waders in the old Chevy station wagon underneath a partially devastated 50 lb. bag of sunflower seeds. I got the crawlers out of the refrigerator where they've been for just about two weeks. I got my old fishing poles out of the old house, found my tackle box in the shed and looked all over for a life-jacket and couldn't find one. I got the battery-powered air pump for the float tube, went to town to buy a life-jacket and came home to put all the needed equipment in the car. Even deflated, the float tube would not fit in the backseat of our Stratus, so it had to hang out of the trunk. I soon realized I needed something for lunch, some pop and water to drink and a styrofoam cooler and ice to keep it cold. It was almost time to load up and drive down to Fox Lake.
I made one quick stop at the library to tell my wife where I was going since I've never used a float tube before. I had visions of being blown out into the middle of Fox Lake and me too tired to use the swimming flippers to leg power my way back to shore. My wife reminded me that I needed sun screen. I remembered bug dope and a hat so I went back home to get them. It's now 12 noon and I am still not fishing. The back seat is full. The passenger seat is full. The trunk is full. I guess it's lucky no one is going fishing with me because there's no place for a passenger in my car. I'm finally ready for my adventure and I drive down the road on the way to Fox Lake.
I'm finally at my fishing lake and I tell myself I'm probably wasting my time since it's the hottest part of the day, the brightest part of the day and everyone knows that fish don't bit at 1 p.m. in the afternoon on a perfectly sunny day. I take my shoes off and put my waders on, get the life-jacket out and it it on, load up the compartments of the float tube with food and drink. I untangle my fish lines and unpack my frog-feet - my only means of propulsion for the float tube. I slather on bug dope and sun screen. Now it's time to inflate the float tube, adjust the seat back, and load the float tube with tackle box and three fishing poles. Finally ready now, I walk backwards pushing the float tube behind me into the shallow water at the public landing at Fox Lake. I gently bend my knees to sit down on the seat of the float tube. As I sit down on the styrofoam seat, I heard the worst sound - r-r-r-i-i-i--pp. My waders ripped out at the seat and the cool water of Fox Lake came rushing in to fill up the waders to knee level. Undaunted, I am determined to catch some fish. I adjust my seat back, rig up a couple poles and try every artificial lure in my tackle box. No luck on spinners, spoons, jigs or plastic worms. Now I try crawlers and I keep catching all these little 4" or 5" perch and 5" or 6" sunfish. Okay, I'm tired of catching all those little fish so I decide it's time to eat. I rig up two fishing poles using a big hook, a bobber, and some split shot to weigh the hook down. I take two 4"-5" perch, hook them through the back and toss them out, laying the poles across my lap so I can get out the summer sausage and cheese to eat some lunch. I got one bite and one swallow of warm Diet Coke before the best fishing of my 56 years began. Both bobbers went under water and the drag on the reels began to sing. All I did for the next hour and half was catch small perch, rig them, cast them and catch large mouth bass on live bait caught on the lake. I caught several bass this way, but only brought home one to fillet. I didn't have a scale to weigh it, but the bass was longer by a couple inches then the 20 inch ruler built into the float tube.
Thank you Beaver Island's Fox Lake for the best anniversary, the best fishing, the best luck. No problem here with cormorants that I can see. By the way, if you see my wife, Phyllis, tell her Joe needs some new waders.
I received this e-mail from my sister-in-law yesterday and thought I'd include it this week as it gives a good "inside" look at military wifes and what their life is like.
Thanks for the kind words you wrote about me on Beaver Island News on the 'Net. I certainly don't feel special because I've done what many other military spouses do. But I would like to explain what it is that military spouses deal with beyond the usual family stuff.
As I've told you before, it wasn't until Ron was deployed to Operation Iraqi Freedom that anyone ever seemed to notice that he left his family behind for a long period of time. What people didn't understand was he had been doing that since he came in the Army: leaving the family for days, weeks, and months at a time to train, attend a school, or go on a mission. He was actually gone more in 1989 than he was when he was in Iraq. But regardless of place or time, his absence was what I was always prepared for because I knew it could come without warning. He used to say "If I don't come home from work, turn on CNN."
So on 9/11/01, as the world watched the destruction of the World Trade Center on TV, I told the kids "Pappy won't be home tonight... and I don't know when he'll be home." He didn't have to call to tell me, I just knew that's how it was. That evening, I drove Kayleigh to ballet class as usual and everyone there was surprised to see us; but to us it was like any other day [though a little more nerve-wracking, for sure]. As Ron spent weeks incommunicado, sleeping on the floor in his office, life at home went on as usual because part of my "job" was to maintain stability at home, wherever home was.
As for our homes: we've had nine courtesy of the military. And our kids attended 10 different schools by the time they graduated from high school. For the most part, we didn't get to choose where to live: not the state, the neighborhood, and sometimes not even the house. There was the neighborhood school [in the neighborhood we didn't choose], private school or home school; but that was limited by location. Extracurricular activities were also limited, and many hours were spent driving the kids to activities to nurture their talents and give them a somewhat "normal" childhood.
Then there were the holidays, birthdays and such: we never counted the ones that Ron missed -- that would have been too depressing -- we were just grateful for the ones he was there for. But it seemed that during all those times he was gone, no one asked if we were okay or how we felt without him there... just the three of us around the table at Thanksgiving or the tree at Christmas.
This is the way most military families live, so it doesn't seem that extraordinary to me.
But after all the years of doing my duty without much recognition, like Eeyore says: "Thanks for noticing."
Page Two of the News on the 'Net