"The Iceman Cometh"- Adam Campbell preps the Newaygo ice pond the day before the start of winter but the colors surrounding the skting rink are green and brown with nary a trace of the stuff that makes for a White Christmas.
Shopping With Ken: My First
At my age one doesn’t encounter too many ‘firsts’. Well into my 60’s there aren’t a whole lot one does in day to day life that could be described as an initial experience.
Oh I’ve had some late onset firsts in my life. I didn’t get to Mackinac Island until I was 40 and then only at the urging of my Lifetime Spousal Companion (LSC) Lil who recalled being there as a younger person and believed our children would enjoy it as she had.
They did.
And so did I.
When your LSC is a nurse they are seldom wrong about such things...or nearly anything else for that matter but that’s for another time perhaps.
I took a twisted kind of pride that I had never viewed “The Sound of Music” even in its heyday but again, at the suggestion of Lil who thought the kids would like it, I capitulated and watched.
She was right, they enjoyed it.
As for me? Well, it was a musical.
I managed to hold off on operating a computer until the mid-2000’s. When itt began to become absolutely necessary while doing freelance work for the local paper. The perpetually kind-hearted Jenna Flannery explained how much easier it would be if I might manage to send articles via the internet rather than hand deliver some papers torn off a legal pad frequently coffee stained and containing what might benevolently be described as intriguing penmanship. Her ability to decipher these rune-like etchings could be described as legendary.
As far as possible future firsts I’ve yet to do the Muskegon luge run, a promise made to myself for awhile now, but that tends to get forgotten when hunkered in on winter weekends with a wealth of movies and/or sports available by the click of a button.
Then recently a new ‘first’ and the first first in a long time.
I started using a Yeti.
And my hydration world is forever changed.
While contemplating gifts for the talented troupe who contribute to N3 my favorite daughter Lesly suggested the Yetis available at North Woods General Store in downtown Newaygo.
Admittedly I know little about such things. I have some liquid transporting items around that I use but they’re generally purchased on the cheap due to a rather remarkable tendency to lose things. I like to say this started with my hair but truthfully, this has been a chronic issue. In hats alone there are likely few places I frequent without one of my ex lids lying around in some lost and found box.
But I digress.
As gift items they went over pretty well and so a few days later having misplaced my usual holder I opened one of the extras to give it a try.
And let me tell you...
These are sublime.
For some reason my morning coffee tastes better. The grip is to my liking and it has kept my brew at the desired temperature. I am not usually given to hype yet Yetis most certainly have earned their reputation.
I did my usual shift to lemon water around noonish and the Yeti made the transformation seamlessly.
For last minute shopping, you cannot fall short with gifting one of these beauties.
And when it comes to late onset firsts?
Mackinac Island worked out well, the computer knowledge gained has been a
boon to my work and Yetis have altered the way I transport liquid.
As for the Sound of Music?
Well, it’s still a musical.
Now let’s take a hit of coffee, turn on the old laptop and look for those luge tickets.
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Christmas Tales
We have asked people in the community to share a favorite story, poem, or recollection in celebration of the season.
If you would like to join in send your story to info@nearnorthnow.com.
Looking for a previously posted story? Click on the author's name to be directed to the archive of the Christmas tale!
James Kelly
Chris Wren
Charles Chandler
Darlene Bogner
Jan Figa
MJ Meets - The Holidays
Megan Wirts
Ken DeLaat
Marianne Boerigter
Julie Burrell
Noah Graff
The final installment of our Christmas tales comes from Near North Now contributor Mark Mathis. Enjoy his walk down memory lane.
Carmen Faulkner and Charles Chandler (part 2) also share their Christmas experiences for Near North Now readers to enjoy.
If you would like to join in send your story to info@nearnorthnow.com.
Looking for a previously posted story? Click on the author's name to be directed to the archive of the Christmas tale!
James Kelly
Chris Wren
Charles Chandler
Darlene Bogner
Jan Figa
MJ Meets - The Holidays
Megan Wirts
Ken DeLaat
Marianne Boerigter
Julie Burrell
Noah Graff
The final installment of our Christmas tales comes from Near North Now contributor Mark Mathis. Enjoy his walk down memory lane.
Carmen Faulkner and Charles Chandler (part 2) also share their Christmas experiences for Near North Now readers to enjoy.
The Million Dollar Man
By Mark Mathis
Clear memories are best formed in times of trauma. Christmas is no exception.
I’ve got lots of great memories of hanging out on Grandma and Grandpa’s farm, playing in the snow with my family, and church services. They all pale in comparison to one unwanted Six Million Dollar Man doll.
The 52 year old me recognizes that Christmas is a time for family, food, and faith. The 8 year old me wasn’t quite on board with all that stuff just yet.
We always ended up traveling to the farm owned by my mom’s parents for Christmas. It was one of those iconic story book farms. Barns for horses, barns for cows, barns for lots of chickens, and a barn for anything else you could think of. I loved the smell of both the machine shop and tobacco being chewed by all the farming uncles. If it was the summer we’d sit on the back porch and listen to Ernie Harwell and the Tigers. If it was winter we’d play on the snow piles around all the barns.
But this was Christmas, I was 8 years old, and the farm meant something else entirely. It was a time for getting. It meant getting some awesome food and three kinds of pie. It meant getting to play with all my cousins. It meant getting a money sized envelope from Grandpa. That little envelope had a little window that old Abe Lincoln himself would stare out from. And it also meant getting a special present from Grandma.
My brother Chris, who would have been five at the time, got his present first. It came in a long box and was wrapped really nice. Not as nice as my mom wraps them, but wrapped nice none-the-less. Chris lives in the moment, so he tore the paper off like he was a T-Rex opening a package of meat. The box contained a brand new Mattel VertiBird.
You probably don’t understand how cool this really was, so let me explain from the perspective of an 8 year old in 1975. It was WAY cool, in a way that no way should a five year old be entrusted with such a fine piece of machinery. This was a styrofoam boat, which contained an attack helicopter. The copter actually flew, and was available for any mission an 8 year old could think of.
Sure, the VertiBird was tethered to the boat. However, it could fly around and pick up weights and broken down cars. I imagined this was exactly like the Coast Guard. Come to think of it the Coast Guard probably used these to train all their new people.
After seeing what a killer present my Grandmother bestowed upon a 5 year old that broke everything he touched, my excitement was overwhelming. What could possibly be in the well wrapped box that just got placed in my lap? Remote control car? Rock-Em Sock-Em Robots? A gun? After all, I was a responsible eight year old.
I peeled back that green paper covered in Santas. Inside was something from the Six Million Dollar Man. I liked the show. Who could resist a tale of a guy that got into a huge military accident and was rebuilt with robot parts? Six million dollars bought a bionic eye, a really powerful arm, and a guy that could run so fast it almost looked like the film got sped up a few times.
So in the box there probably was going to be a bionic eye I would have to swap out for my own eye. I wouldn’t do it now, but at 8 years old I was ready to give up an eye to get that superpower. So I flipped open the lid. Inside was a Steve Austin, the six million dollar man, doll.
A doll.
Mind you, in 1975 it was’t an action figure — I had never heard of such a thing. It was a doll. Sure, this doll had a bionic grip, a magic eye you could look through, and skin you could peel back to see his robot parts. He even had an engine that he could pick up to prove his six million dollar strength to any naysayers.
So as we got to playing with our new loot, my brother began flying Coast Guard training missions. I looked through the super special bionic eye on my new doll with just a tad bit of jealousy as he went about saving the world.
Steve Austin had one mission the rest of that Christmas. That was to convince my no-good brother that this doll was so much cooler than his VertiBird boat. With great vigor I demonstrated the eye and lifting capacity of my robot/human action play toy. Repeatedly. And then I started all over again. If you know our family you’ll know the hallmark of any Mathis is salesmanship and relentlessness. I used both those skills for the entire day. By late in the day, I might have even offered to toss in my new five dollar bill to sweeten the deal.
Despite a mountain of effort, my five year old brother could not be convinced that trading a piece of official Coast Guard equipment for a doll was a wise move. We played with our respective toys for the months that followed, although I snuck in plenty of copter missions when he wasn’t looking.
Eventually, both toys wound up in the dustbin of our toy history. I see they have both been resurrected on Ebay for a few hundred dollars. However, my doll has been reborn as an action figure.
A special thanks to my parents, who have spent the last 44 years teaching me the TRUE meaning of Christmas. You can give me a doll these days and I don’t mind a bit.
By Mark Mathis
Clear memories are best formed in times of trauma. Christmas is no exception.
I’ve got lots of great memories of hanging out on Grandma and Grandpa’s farm, playing in the snow with my family, and church services. They all pale in comparison to one unwanted Six Million Dollar Man doll.
The 52 year old me recognizes that Christmas is a time for family, food, and faith. The 8 year old me wasn’t quite on board with all that stuff just yet.
We always ended up traveling to the farm owned by my mom’s parents for Christmas. It was one of those iconic story book farms. Barns for horses, barns for cows, barns for lots of chickens, and a barn for anything else you could think of. I loved the smell of both the machine shop and tobacco being chewed by all the farming uncles. If it was the summer we’d sit on the back porch and listen to Ernie Harwell and the Tigers. If it was winter we’d play on the snow piles around all the barns.
But this was Christmas, I was 8 years old, and the farm meant something else entirely. It was a time for getting. It meant getting some awesome food and three kinds of pie. It meant getting to play with all my cousins. It meant getting a money sized envelope from Grandpa. That little envelope had a little window that old Abe Lincoln himself would stare out from. And it also meant getting a special present from Grandma.
My brother Chris, who would have been five at the time, got his present first. It came in a long box and was wrapped really nice. Not as nice as my mom wraps them, but wrapped nice none-the-less. Chris lives in the moment, so he tore the paper off like he was a T-Rex opening a package of meat. The box contained a brand new Mattel VertiBird.
You probably don’t understand how cool this really was, so let me explain from the perspective of an 8 year old in 1975. It was WAY cool, in a way that no way should a five year old be entrusted with such a fine piece of machinery. This was a styrofoam boat, which contained an attack helicopter. The copter actually flew, and was available for any mission an 8 year old could think of.
Sure, the VertiBird was tethered to the boat. However, it could fly around and pick up weights and broken down cars. I imagined this was exactly like the Coast Guard. Come to think of it the Coast Guard probably used these to train all their new people.
After seeing what a killer present my Grandmother bestowed upon a 5 year old that broke everything he touched, my excitement was overwhelming. What could possibly be in the well wrapped box that just got placed in my lap? Remote control car? Rock-Em Sock-Em Robots? A gun? After all, I was a responsible eight year old.
I peeled back that green paper covered in Santas. Inside was something from the Six Million Dollar Man. I liked the show. Who could resist a tale of a guy that got into a huge military accident and was rebuilt with robot parts? Six million dollars bought a bionic eye, a really powerful arm, and a guy that could run so fast it almost looked like the film got sped up a few times.
So in the box there probably was going to be a bionic eye I would have to swap out for my own eye. I wouldn’t do it now, but at 8 years old I was ready to give up an eye to get that superpower. So I flipped open the lid. Inside was a Steve Austin, the six million dollar man, doll.
A doll.
Mind you, in 1975 it was’t an action figure — I had never heard of such a thing. It was a doll. Sure, this doll had a bionic grip, a magic eye you could look through, and skin you could peel back to see his robot parts. He even had an engine that he could pick up to prove his six million dollar strength to any naysayers.
So as we got to playing with our new loot, my brother began flying Coast Guard training missions. I looked through the super special bionic eye on my new doll with just a tad bit of jealousy as he went about saving the world.
Steve Austin had one mission the rest of that Christmas. That was to convince my no-good brother that this doll was so much cooler than his VertiBird boat. With great vigor I demonstrated the eye and lifting capacity of my robot/human action play toy. Repeatedly. And then I started all over again. If you know our family you’ll know the hallmark of any Mathis is salesmanship and relentlessness. I used both those skills for the entire day. By late in the day, I might have even offered to toss in my new five dollar bill to sweeten the deal.
Despite a mountain of effort, my five year old brother could not be convinced that trading a piece of official Coast Guard equipment for a doll was a wise move. We played with our respective toys for the months that followed, although I snuck in plenty of copter missions when he wasn’t looking.
Eventually, both toys wound up in the dustbin of our toy history. I see they have both been resurrected on Ebay for a few hundred dollars. However, my doll has been reborn as an action figure.
A special thanks to my parents, who have spent the last 44 years teaching me the TRUE meaning of Christmas. You can give me a doll these days and I don’t mind a bit.
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The Annual Argument
By Carmen Faulkner As the holidays arrive on scene, so must the decorations. For my family this means my parent’s three-story brick building in downtown Newaygo must be transformed into a Christmas Wonderland rivaled only by Santa’s Workshop or a New York Macy’s. There are miles of lights to be unpacked, vines of holly to be hung, a field of poinsettias to nurture. Most importantly, though, there are a series of hanging decorations in the 14-foot windows that look out over the street. Each of them, four per window, are 12-36 inches long and should hang at varying heights from the ceiling. Why we never record their order or proper hanging length is both a mystery and modern-day tragedy. Without that oversight, though, there would be no Annual Argument, and, perhaps, no story to tell at all. It Begins… Several weeks before Christmas we gather, my parents, my partner and I, in the closed down shop on a Sunday. As the light fades, we make a platter of cheese and crackers and open a bottle of wine. We sit, eyeing the empty walls with both anticipation and dread for the hours ahead, and try to summon the Christmas spirit. Between bites, we begin pulling out the lights. We stand on high ladders, wrapping strands of white around the duct work until the ceiling is aglow. We pull down Fall decorations, replacing them with their winter counterparts. The artwork above the bar is swapped for a snowed in river scene, of spruce tips breathed white with snow. We line the hall with Christmas Trees, wrapping them in tinsel and colorful garland. We unbox ornaments, old and new, and place them patiently among the branches. Finally, it is time. Out from their summer hiding places come the giant window decorations. We take turns at holiday-Tetris, attempting to decide in which order to hang them. There are rules. You cannot place two of the same decorations next to each other. Nor can you do two of similar size, or of similar color. …But they can’t be alternating colors either. We grow irritated with one another, each of us preferring our own arrangement: Red then gold, tall then short, short again, gold again, then green. We agree, finally. We tie string to their ends and examine the ceiling to ensure hooks still live in the wood to which we will fasten our decorations. But it is not so simple as placement. We require my Dad, for reasons unknown, to stand atop the ladders, balancing our giant ornaments, while we decide on the length he should cut their strings. “How about this?” He questions, 13 feet up, stretching to the ceiling, glitter falling around his face, clinging to his sweater. “Too low.” My Mom responds. He pulls it up higher. “Too high,” she says. “There, there, there!” She yells as he loops the string. “That one is perfect.” (It is also at the exact same height it was to begin with). They seem to be in casual agreement at first… but the music has mysteriously quieted and our small talk diminishes. There’s an electricity at the back of my neck and my baby hairs stand on end. My partner and I sit down, grinning, mentally beckoning the show that has already been set in motion. Up goes the second ornament. “Scott, it can’t be at the same height as the last one,” she says, voice flattening. “Great,” he responds with a dry sarcasm, letting out the line. She sits silently, hawk-eyed as he ties it in its final resting place. Then up goes the third. Her face reddens, and I can see her doing mental backflips; the length at which the ornaments hang is of utmost importance. She must make him understand. “It has to be longer. That looks ridiculous.” A venomous retort. I can see her nails digging into her palms. She is readying herself for battle. “Rob, it’s fine!” His voice crescendos over us as he looks to the ceiling, glitter infiltrating his lashes, poisoning his disposition. “No, it is not fine! You can’t see what it looks like from up there. They can’t be the same height like that!” “Rob, they aren’t the same height, they are totally different heights!” “Yes, BUT, they are different SIZES and therefore end at the same place.” “Just tell me what you want!” He bellows, frustrated but offering no alternatives. Silence. …. She is unsure. Lower or higher? Every other? Every third? “What do you guys think?” She turns and looks at us. “Rob, tell me RIGHT NOW or I’m getting down from here!” He’s straining over the ladder, force buckling his knees in a show of drama, begging for mercy from a sympathetic Father Christmas, that he be released from this cruel insanity. "Just hold on a second!” My partner and I sit rigid in our chairs, desperately suppressing laughter, but the creases in our mouths betray us. I quickly google ‘Christmas Decorating Height Suggestions’ and am heartbroken to discover our plight is but a lone island in a sea of Christmas misery. There is no ‘How-To’ Tutorial for this. I take too long to respond, and Dad scoffs at me, raises the ornament, ties without regard. But now Mom is angry. “It just looks wrong,” she says, turning to ice or stone. We are on decoration 3 of 8, and the Annual Argument always heats up after 3. As the night drags on in a cacophony of Grinch-like rhetoric, the disagreement over the length at which the decorations should hang grows in passion. My Dad’s concerns get more far-fetched. Maybe the ladder will collapse. The wall speakers are in the way and THIS JUST WON’T WORK. One of the hooks has mysteriously vanished into a thin and vicious air. My Moms unhappiness with the order grows too. They are too long. They are too short. The colors are wrong. “Why do we even do this?!” She yells, to an unrelenting crowd. When the last ornament is hung, my Dad jumps off the ladder and heaves it through the doorway out of sight, determined for that to be the last of it. My Mom retreats to the kitchen, banging things, furious that it doesn’t look ‘just right.’ By now the cheese is gone, the wine is gone. My partner and my cheeks burn with ache, our eyes are crusted with the dried tears we try to hide. I am certain I could record this conversation, and next year it would be IDENTICAL. It is identical to last years. It would be identical to the argument ten years prior. It takes about 20 minutes of silence for them to come around. We vacuum. We pack away the boxes, carrying leftover decor back to storage. We turn on music. We open another bottle of wine. We sit, finally, at the table staring at one another, my parents feigning indifference, us feigning enthusiasm. “It all looks beautiful! Better than last year!” The minutes tick by, and before long we crack. The glow of lights bounce off the red and cream brick. Jazz does a jig through the air. We sigh first, then giggle. Soon we are all laughing, in this room lit alive by Christmas. My parents steal glances at each other and grab hands. All is not forgiven, they still blame one another for a sub-par job, but there is a twinkle in their eyes and we all agree: we will meet here again next year for the Annual Argument… Though arguably, next year, Ornament #3 should be just a touch lower. 
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Christmas with a Bang II -Road Trip to Natchitoches
By Charles Chandler In a previous article, it was revealed that one of our unique Louisiana Christmas traditions was the Big Bang. It was about our love of fireworks, bunches of fireworks and the bigger the better. Back in the day the mother and father of all Christmas Lights and Fireworks displays were to be seen at the Festival of Lights in Natchitoches Louisiana. Each year whether we had been good or bad (mostly bad) it was our tradition to pile into some family vehicle and drive about 60 miles down to Natchitoches and attend this Festival. For me and my pack of Piney Woods cousins, this was a high adventure because the town of Natchitoches was a fascinating, exotic and maybe dangerous place. On the appointed Saturday it would take forever to get underway mostly because we had to go over the trip ground rules and do a bunch of promises that we would not behave like proper “little heathens” like we did last year. Finally, we were off and after about mile 30 we stopped wrestling and started looking out the windows. Things started to change as we left the piney woods and entered the Red River Delta. We began to see swamps, small rivers, bayous, and lakes with ancient cypress trees draped in Spanish Moss and the occasional giant live oak. There were huge flat cotton fields, pecan plantations and pastures stocked with scary looking herds of Brahman cattle. There were flocks of small white egrets flying around them and a few were even riding on the backs of the giant humped backed bulls. We knew were getting close to Natchitoches when we could see the Grand Encore bluffs and the bridge over the Red River. As we crossed this tall iron bridge it was one of the few times we were quite because as we looked down at this big boiling body of muddy water, we knew this was a mighty river and one that we probably could never swim across. Our day plan for this Christmas junket was straightforward, drive through town and on to Melrose Plantation, then back to some restaurant in Natchitoches for lunch, and then find a place along the Cain River to watch the fireworks. As we rolled into Natchitoches it was noticeably different both historically and culturally from our Anglo homes. It is located on the Cane River and was established by the French in early 1700. As Dad drove slowly down, the narrow streets we would stare shamelessly at people that had names and accents that were very different from ours. There were cobblestone streets, old homes, and older Catholic Churches with bell towers and crypts and mausoleums above ground. Sometimes after lunch, if we little Protestants promised to behave, we would get to go into these Churches to admire the statuary, paintings, and iconography. Sometimes if we kept that promise we were allowed into the scary burying grounds to read the names and dates on the crypts. My favorite Church was St Augustine that was further on down Cane River by Melrose Plantation. The reason for the stop Melrose Plantation was to buy a couple peck sacks of their famous paper shell pecans. Even though we had a large paper shell pecan tree in our backyard our pecans according to my Dad were not as sweet as the ones bought home from Melrose. He would sit by the fire and crack these pecans and my Mom would use them in the holiday cakes, pies, and candy. The other was to let my Mom once again move at a glacial pace through the historic plantation. She loved this place and would admire the Great house, African House, Yucca House, Weaving Cabin, and Bindery. She took forever to study the paintings of Clementine Hunter a now-famous primitive painter that once lived in one of the small cabins. We mostly chased each other around the incredibly large live oaks. Or pestered the poor docents asking why you could not touch this or that item. Finally, after the annual allotment of pecans were bought and Moms inspection complete it was time to focus on food. This was a really big deal because we were going to have food that was very different from our borings, bland Anglo grub, (no disrespect meant Mom). This Natchitoches food had flavor and spices that would make our eyes water and our mouth burn and all the little boys loved it. After the adults chose the restaurant, we were allowed to choose our lunch. Our entry was always the same, the world-famous Natchitoches meat pies, the sides were generally a cup of gumbo, red beans, and rice, and bread pudding for dessert, all washed down with a gallon of sweet tea. After lunch, the men would adjourn to benches on Front St for people watching and the ladies would do a little Christmas shopping. As soon as we recovered from our food coma we were let loose to “run wild” along the riverfront park. A favorite activity was throwing rocks at the flocks of tame ducks which usually brought severe scolding’s from the locals. Soon it was time to gather up and find a family spot to watch the parades, the Christmas lights, and the purpose of being, the big bangs. O my goodness what firework, in those days you could get up close and personal with these fireworks. You could feel the concussion in your body when the big display bombs were fired. We would clap at the rocket burst and ooooh and ahaaaaaaaaaaa at the special static displays that were usually some animals or sacred scene. These firework would go on for what felt like hours all leading up to the magnificent crescendo. For us, it was magnificent like the end of the world magnificent. When the grand finally was over we all held hands so as not to get lost in the crowds. Once in the car, a kid count was taken and we headed back north. We were exhausted from the big day but had to stay alert until we crossed back over the scary and now dark Red River, just in case the bridge fell in and we had to swim for it. Once over the bridge we could relax and listen to our parents’ prattle on about whether the fireworks were as dramatic as last year and which riverfront home was the best in the show. My predictable and frugal Father would complain about the traffic and that lunches and the bags of pecans seem to be more expensive than last year. The back-seat boys would stop wrestling and giggling and soon were asleep and most likely with visions of rockets and star shells and cherry bombs dancing in their heads. Side Bar: It should be noted here that fans and the residents of Natchitoches take their little meat pies very serious. They strongly believe that this dish was created locally. They also disregard the historical fact that the Native Americans, French, Creoles, African Americans Spanish, Cajuns, and Mexicans traveled back and forth through this area for hundreds of years and all have dishes similar to this Natchitoches meat pie. However, long ago I learned that arguing with people from south Louisiana about food is like trying to talk a stump out of the ground. A lot of effort but nothing happens. Understanding the passion around this dish I personally think this meat pie started the Mexican American War. Natchitoches used to be on the contentious western frontier with New Spain and that world-class troublemaker Zac Taylor served as a brigadier general at nearby Fort Jesup. Some historians say that agitator Zac, slavery and the annexation of Texas were the issues that started the Mexican American War. I have always suspected this war was caused by the Hispanics across the Sabine River in San Augustine and the folks in Natchitoches arguing over the name of this spicy little dish. The Spaniards and the Mexicans both claim the thing and insisted on calling it an Empanada. The folks in Natchitoches insisted it was their own meat pie and these hotheads probably started a fist fight and then a shot was fired and the war started and it is still going on today. We still have an army along the border with Mexico, they still want their territory back and now someone is wanting to build a wall, and all this over a little meat pie. You think this is a stretch, try arguing with a Hebert or Boudreaux or the local Prudhommes about food. And for goodness sakes, if you happen to find yourself in Lasyone’s Meat Pie Restaurant in Natchitoches don’t ask the waitress for an Empanada. Lasyone’s was the restaurant in the Movie Steel Magnolias that was filmed in Natchitoches. The Natchitoches Festival of Lights has been celebrated since 1927. Today's celebration runs from Nov. 20 through Jan. 6 and draws more than 100,000 visitors. It features more than 300,000 Christmas lights, more than 100 displays, and a parade as well as a candlelight tour of homes sponsored by the Natchitoches Historic Foundation. For more information please follow http://www.natchitocheschristmas.com/about/. Photos from Carmen's Christmas Story
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Christmas Trivia
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So you say you know a lot about Christmas?
Well, we plan to challenge you this season with a few teasers from songs, traditions, history, books, movies and cartoons. More to follow so stay tuned. 1. Where did there arise such a clatter? 2. What was Brenda Lee doing around the Christmas tree? 3.What permanent injury did George Bailey suffer when he was a boy? |
Newaygo's Christmas Walk
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Community Events
Review: Eileen Ivers Delivers A Joyful Christmas Show
By Ken DeLaat
Photo by Faune Benson Schuitema
Wow.
Just wow.
Eileen Ivers and a quintessential quartet of talent took to the Main Stage at the Dogwood Thursday night for a Christmas Show that would absolutely knock the socks off a grateful crowd.
The imminent fiddler walked out alone to begin the show with a mournful rendition of a couple of classic carols and soon was joined by her strong supporting cast as they took the audience on a musical journey amply sprinkled with the Christmas Joy Ms. Ivers had promised.
The versatility of the musicians driven by the astounding expertise the Grammy award winning Ivers displays on the fiddle proved to be a worthy show in itself. Her dueling duos with band members were captivating to say the least.
Two standouts of an evening providing many were an imaginative and charming delivery of Mary Don’t You Weep and a version of Gabriel’s Message a song familiar to fans of Sting that was poured out beautifully.
When they looked to bring it home with a rollicking Go Tell It On The Mountain the Dogwood crowd wasn’t ready to leave and enticed them back for a lengthy This Little Light of Mine accompanied by a rather large backup choir of folks still standing in appreciation for the evening’s entertainment
It was an epic night at the Dogwood . One attendee described the evening as being one of the finest shows they have seen on this stage, a stage that has witnessed some pretty amazing performances in this past year and many years before.
Kudos to the Dogwood for hosting such fine festive fare and give a little up to HS&C Wealth Management and H&S Companies for sponsoring the visit by Ms. Ivers & Co.
Photo by Faune Benson Schuitema
Wow.
Just wow.
Eileen Ivers and a quintessential quartet of talent took to the Main Stage at the Dogwood Thursday night for a Christmas Show that would absolutely knock the socks off a grateful crowd.
The imminent fiddler walked out alone to begin the show with a mournful rendition of a couple of classic carols and soon was joined by her strong supporting cast as they took the audience on a musical journey amply sprinkled with the Christmas Joy Ms. Ivers had promised.
The versatility of the musicians driven by the astounding expertise the Grammy award winning Ivers displays on the fiddle proved to be a worthy show in itself. Her dueling duos with band members were captivating to say the least.
Two standouts of an evening providing many were an imaginative and charming delivery of Mary Don’t You Weep and a version of Gabriel’s Message a song familiar to fans of Sting that was poured out beautifully.
When they looked to bring it home with a rollicking Go Tell It On The Mountain the Dogwood crowd wasn’t ready to leave and enticed them back for a lengthy This Little Light of Mine accompanied by a rather large backup choir of folks still standing in appreciation for the evening’s entertainment
It was an epic night at the Dogwood . One attendee described the evening as being one of the finest shows they have seen on this stage, a stage that has witnessed some pretty amazing performances in this past year and many years before.
Kudos to the Dogwood for hosting such fine festive fare and give a little up to HS&C Wealth Management and H&S Companies for sponsoring the visit by Ms. Ivers & Co.
Trivia Answers: 1. The lawn 2. Rockin' 3. A deaf ear
Shopping with Ken: NCCA Holiday Artists Market
If you’re reading this let’s assume you’re not someone who has the whole shopping for gifts thing down, am I right? I mean, seriously, it’s not that easy if you want to do it well. Anyone can bail and spend a chunk of cash on whatever hot item is currently plugging up the airwaves with ads. But is that how it goes? Shouldn’t a gift, particularly a Christmas gift, say a little something to its receiver?
The staff at N3 World Headquarters & Decoration Destination is here to help. Here’s our latest opportunity in the quest for gifting greatness.
There is something special about the Holiday Artists Market now open at NCCA Artsplace in downtown Fremont. While always filled with treasures created by artists from our region, the seasonal run of their holiday inspired transformation showcases a plethora of presenting possibilities.
Handmade functional or decorative pottery, unique paintings, prints, textiles, candles, photography, woodturning, sculpture and jewelry are just part of the gifting opportunities that await at this intriguing shop.
Look, friendly reader, time is slipping away as we speak and you’re still in total denial that The Big One is looming larger while the days get shorter. You’ve no time to dawdle about and if your gift is to be a special one (as all gifts should be, one would think) picking up on a creation by a local artist is a way of saying you went the extra mile. You took time out of your day. You could have punched a few buttons on a keyboard or phone during coffee break and then awaited its arrival on your doorstep, but you didn’t because it meant more than that.
Yeah, be that person.
And should you truly want to go for a home run?
Give the gift of creativity.
NCCA Artsplace holds a variety of classes for all ages and you will be a bit amazed at the wide range of interests they encompass. This is one of those gifts that reminds your giftee long after the tree is down that you cared enough to provide a present that will be enjoyed down the road once again.
And there are gift certificates.
The NCCA-Holiday Artist Market will be open through December 29. Regular hours are Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday from 9:00 a.m. to 5:30 p.m., Thursday 9:00 a.m. to 8:00 p.m. and Saturday from 10:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m.
For more information stop by or call NCCA-Artsplace, 13 E. Main, Fremont, 231.924.4022. www.ncca-artsplace.org
When you get there check out the window display, an annual display of artistic wizardry.
But for pity’s sake get a move on! Time is definitely a wastin’.
The staff at N3 World Headquarters & Decoration Destination is here to help. Here’s our latest opportunity in the quest for gifting greatness.
There is something special about the Holiday Artists Market now open at NCCA Artsplace in downtown Fremont. While always filled with treasures created by artists from our region, the seasonal run of their holiday inspired transformation showcases a plethora of presenting possibilities.
Handmade functional or decorative pottery, unique paintings, prints, textiles, candles, photography, woodturning, sculpture and jewelry are just part of the gifting opportunities that await at this intriguing shop.
Look, friendly reader, time is slipping away as we speak and you’re still in total denial that The Big One is looming larger while the days get shorter. You’ve no time to dawdle about and if your gift is to be a special one (as all gifts should be, one would think) picking up on a creation by a local artist is a way of saying you went the extra mile. You took time out of your day. You could have punched a few buttons on a keyboard or phone during coffee break and then awaited its arrival on your doorstep, but you didn’t because it meant more than that.
Yeah, be that person.
And should you truly want to go for a home run?
Give the gift of creativity.
NCCA Artsplace holds a variety of classes for all ages and you will be a bit amazed at the wide range of interests they encompass. This is one of those gifts that reminds your giftee long after the tree is down that you cared enough to provide a present that will be enjoyed down the road once again.
And there are gift certificates.
The NCCA-Holiday Artist Market will be open through December 29. Regular hours are Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday from 9:00 a.m. to 5:30 p.m., Thursday 9:00 a.m. to 8:00 p.m. and Saturday from 10:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m.
For more information stop by or call NCCA-Artsplace, 13 E. Main, Fremont, 231.924.4022. www.ncca-artsplace.org
When you get there check out the window display, an annual display of artistic wizardry.
But for pity’s sake get a move on! Time is definitely a wastin’.
Shopping with Ken: 37 North
By Ken DeLaat
What strikes you first about 37 North is not merely the volume of merchandise to be found. Nor is it just the wide variety of items that range from an extensive collection of outdoor gear to an ample array of top quality clothing and accessories.
It is the manner with which these items find your eye. The shop is laid out in a way that offers surprises at every turn. An intriguing item that catches your eye when you’ve just been checking out something completely different.
There’s a little intrigue involved after entering because a saunter past a collection of kayaks can find you suddenly swept up by some fine looking Bogs in the elevated footwear foyer. A perusal of the outerwear drifts you along through a path revealing cleverly displayed t-shirts and the periodic peek at one of their Stormy Kromer racks.
Sidebar: If you don’t know about Stormy Kromer hats...well… suffice to say that Stormy spottings become far more frequent the farther north you go in this fine state until reaching their pinnacle in our peninsular pal to the north. They are fun as well as functional and a must have for those of us who embrace our wondrous winters but wish to keep our ears warm.
These hats are one of the store’s most popular items and a classic Christmas gift.
Oh and should your canine friend need a bit of head covering (or even a coat) during wintry days?
There’s Stormy gear for them as well and 37 North has it.
Owner Greg Slominski is an outdoor enthusiast who makes sure the items he sells are personally product-tested, which we kind of suspect is not much of a sacrifice given the amount of really fun stuff he has on hand. There are any number of possibilities for outdoor good times on display and he has likely tested these products as often as possible.
Asked what items he might want to find under his tree this year Greg mentioned snowshoes and a Kuhl down coat.
For us?
N3 World Headquarters & Shopping Research Center is located on a lake thus one of their stand-up boards would seem to rate as nearly a necessity….or so went a recent narrative after being asked about gift suggestions.
But we digress.
Those familiar with the Kuhl brand of clothing or Keen and Oboz footwear recognize the quality associated with such lines where style and comfort intertwine seamlessly.
From watercraft and paddles to the car racks used to carry them and from hiking packs to the boots and apparel needed to make the trip more pleasant 37 North has it covered.
And the biggest bonus of all for a guy like me whose wrapping attempts come out looking like well taped and frequently torn disasters?
Gift wrapping. Free gift wrapping.
So if anyone out there shows a lot of love to someone by purchasing one of those standup beauties as a really special gift? Give us a call.
We want to be there when they wrap it.
If you’re a regular at 37 North we are probably ‘preaching to the choir’ as they say, and you are likely to be making a visit or two this season.
But if perhaps you have not ventured into this treasure trove of presenting possibilities?
We at N3 World Headquarters and Shopping Research Center highly recommend a drop by.
Sale items abound throughout the store, it’s really good stuff, the staff is knowledgeable as well as customer service driven and just in case you happen to be in need?
They also rent tuxedos.
What strikes you first about 37 North is not merely the volume of merchandise to be found. Nor is it just the wide variety of items that range from an extensive collection of outdoor gear to an ample array of top quality clothing and accessories.
It is the manner with which these items find your eye. The shop is laid out in a way that offers surprises at every turn. An intriguing item that catches your eye when you’ve just been checking out something completely different.
There’s a little intrigue involved after entering because a saunter past a collection of kayaks can find you suddenly swept up by some fine looking Bogs in the elevated footwear foyer. A perusal of the outerwear drifts you along through a path revealing cleverly displayed t-shirts and the periodic peek at one of their Stormy Kromer racks.
Sidebar: If you don’t know about Stormy Kromer hats...well… suffice to say that Stormy spottings become far more frequent the farther north you go in this fine state until reaching their pinnacle in our peninsular pal to the north. They are fun as well as functional and a must have for those of us who embrace our wondrous winters but wish to keep our ears warm.
These hats are one of the store’s most popular items and a classic Christmas gift.
Oh and should your canine friend need a bit of head covering (or even a coat) during wintry days?
There’s Stormy gear for them as well and 37 North has it.
Owner Greg Slominski is an outdoor enthusiast who makes sure the items he sells are personally product-tested, which we kind of suspect is not much of a sacrifice given the amount of really fun stuff he has on hand. There are any number of possibilities for outdoor good times on display and he has likely tested these products as often as possible.
Asked what items he might want to find under his tree this year Greg mentioned snowshoes and a Kuhl down coat.
For us?
N3 World Headquarters & Shopping Research Center is located on a lake thus one of their stand-up boards would seem to rate as nearly a necessity….or so went a recent narrative after being asked about gift suggestions.
But we digress.
Those familiar with the Kuhl brand of clothing or Keen and Oboz footwear recognize the quality associated with such lines where style and comfort intertwine seamlessly.
From watercraft and paddles to the car racks used to carry them and from hiking packs to the boots and apparel needed to make the trip more pleasant 37 North has it covered.
And the biggest bonus of all for a guy like me whose wrapping attempts come out looking like well taped and frequently torn disasters?
Gift wrapping. Free gift wrapping.
So if anyone out there shows a lot of love to someone by purchasing one of those standup beauties as a really special gift? Give us a call.
We want to be there when they wrap it.
If you’re a regular at 37 North we are probably ‘preaching to the choir’ as they say, and you are likely to be making a visit or two this season.
But if perhaps you have not ventured into this treasure trove of presenting possibilities?
We at N3 World Headquarters and Shopping Research Center highly recommend a drop by.
Sale items abound throughout the store, it’s really good stuff, the staff is knowledgeable as well as customer service driven and just in case you happen to be in need?
They also rent tuxedos.