By Sharon M. Kennedy For many years Mom’s brother, who lived in Dafter with his wife and children, stopped by our place every Sunday afternoon. Steven was one year younger than my sister. Jerry was a year older than I was. Those visits weren’t particularly memorable with the exception of…
by Sharon M. Kennedy Dad and our neighbor, Bill Sarley, are stripping the bark from logs that will be turned into slabs and buzzed up for our woodstove. In the 1950s, Dad didn’t own a chainsaw so he rigged up the buzzsaw to his tractor and somehow ran the logs…
By Sharon M. Kennedy For a gal who was raised on a farm, there’s nothing quite as silent and nostalgic as an empty barnyard. The barn in these pictures, once so full of life, no longer exists. When I took these photos in the 1970s, the milk cows had been…
by Sharon M. Kennedy Dad with grandkids Alan and Emily On this day (September 12) in 1983, Dad didn’t know he had one week left to live. He wouldn’t get a chance to give my daughter rides on his tractor as he had my brother’s children. He wouldn’t even be…
by Sharon M. Kennedy Every year after Labor Day Shakespeare’s Sonnet 18 comes to mind because it signals the end of summer. Even the swings at Brimley State Park are silent as children return to their classrooms. Some are pleased to be back among friends. Others wish summer would never…
by Sharon M. Kennedy I was eight years old in 1955. I don’t remember much about the parade and festivities associated with the centennial celebration of the Soo Locks. What I do remember is men were encouraged to grow beards, something Dad would never do. Women got out their sewing…
By Sharon M. Kennedy Every summer my aunts and uncles from downstate packed their cars and drove to the sideroad. Mom’s sister, Marie, pictured to the far left in the photo, always spent two weeks at the old homestead, the house across the road from where I live. Her brother,…
by Sharon M. Kennedy This Sunday, July 23, would have been my niece’s 56th birthday. There won’t be a celebration because Carol died twenty-one years ago when she didn’t see the point in going on. Like many other young people who have suffered a loss they cannot accept or who…
by Sharon M. Kennedy These hands have served me well all the long years of my life. I think of the work they have done, the loved ones they have held, and the stories they have written. I think of the times when I wanted to quit but my hands…
By Sharon M. Kennedy Jude and Sharon When summer finally arrived in the Eastern Upper Peninsula, my sister and I looked forward to spending hours in the sunshine. We donned summer clothing that looked much the same as our winter wardrobe except our blouses had short sleeves and our overalls…
by Sharon M. Kennedy In the 1970s, I lived in the Detroit area. When I came home for a visit, I always brought presents for my parents. Often they were silly ones such as a three-foot-long box of Sander’s candy. Mom had a ball with that box. As it emptied,…
by Sharon M. Kennedy In 1892, Francis Bellamy wrote the “Pledge of Allegiance.” It wasn’t long thereafter that Daniel Ford, owner of a children’s magazine called The Youth’s Companion, asked an editor to create a physical movement to accompany the pledge. I’ll skip all the ins-and-outs and simply say the…
by Sharon M. Kennedy In the late 1920s, Mom’s sister, Kate, married a tall gentleman from Illinois. I was never told how they met. I don’t think Vernor Larson was in the military, but I’ll never know for sure. As a kid, it didn’t occur to me to ask about…
by Sharon M. Kennedy Many readers are familiar with Kafka’s novella, “The Metamorphosis.” It was my least favorite work by that author because I was too young to grasp its meaning. I thought it was disgusting. For those readers who’ve never heard of it, here’s a brief synopsis: A salesman…
By Sharon M. Kennedy Uncle Steve standing outside the Wildcat Lair A few days ago I bought some plastic flowers and went to the cemeteries where my loved ones were laid to rest. I also took a supply of Kleenex with me. I knew I couldn’t blink back the tears…
By Sharon M. Kennedy It’s that time again here in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Time to think about tilling up the vegetable garden plot. Now that the danger of frost is almost over, it’s almost time to plant. I say “almost” because everyone living in the Eastern U.P. knows we’ll get…
by Sharon M. Kennedy 1984 Three Generations! When I was growing up in the 1950s, it never occurred to me Mom could be or would want to be anything other than what she was—a wife and the mother of three children. She worked hard from the moment she awakened until…
by Sharon M. Kennedy I’m not sure how old I was when Mom snapped this photo. My sister is in the background by Dad’s truck. Going by her height, she was probably six or seven which would have put my age at two or three. I seem to be fascinated…
Take a trip down the U.P.’s many SideRoads with Sharon Kennedy Penned by the author in recent years, The SideRoad Columnist presents a selection of previously published newspaper columns. To delight the reader, each installment tells a complete story in miniature. This book includes a mixture of nostalgia, humor, shared…
by Sharon M. Kennedy On this day in 1910, Alvin Aloysius Kennedy was born. Why Gram gave Dad such a strange middle name was known only to her. Perhaps Aloysius had some connection with Irish relatives, although a quick Google search revealed its origins were German and Latin. It certainly…
by Sharon M. Kennedy March is usually the perfect month for tapping maple trees in the EUP. When my uncle, Steve Cottelit, retired from construction work, he had time for some favorite hobbies. When the ice was too thin to fish on, he hung up his spears, made sure the…
Listening to Wong’s Gossard Girls story got me thinking about the Soo Woolen Mill strike. Mom’s sister, Kate Cottelit Larsen, was one of the picketers. Mom was too young to remember the particulars & I couldn’t find anything when I Googled the strike. When I’m finally permanently moved, I might…
By Sharon Kennedy Dad loved burning wood. Even after my parents bought a mobile home, he often went back to the old house and got a fire going in the woodstove. He said the only decent piece of toast he ever ate was one that was thrown on a hot…
By Sharon M. Kennedy Snowshoe trails of 2022 For years it was my custom to slip into my Bearpaw boots that I kept attached to my snowshoes. Once my feet were in place, I picked up my ski poles and started breaking trails in my back yard. Every day I…
