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…
by Sharon M. Kennedy Witch of winter Folklore is filled with stories of winter witches. Today, January 6, marks the Christian Epiphany, the day when Italians believed La Befana—their “famous” winter witch—visited children. Apparently, she bestowed gifts on the good and coal to the naughty. She was like Santa in…
When I moved back to the Upper Peninsula in the early 1980s, I was surprised to see buffalo roaming the fields on a farm on M-129. Such a sight wasn’t common in or around the Detroit area where I lived. The only buffalo I had ever seen were on nickels….
By Sharon M. Kennedy Last winter I pulled on my snowshoes and made trails in my backyard. I took a photo of the old chicken coop and my trail leading to it. This year the snow will remain pristine as I won’t be snowshoeing anytime soon. Some readers might remember…
By Sharon M. Kennedy Mom never complained about winters. She knew they would be long and harsh. She was born in 1917, the youngest of seven siblings. According to a note I found among her brother’s papers, three of their brothers died young. Eddie passed when he was three, Joe…
By Sharon M. Kennedy We all know nosy people. They’re the ones who poke through your kitchen cupboards, rummage through your drawers, and steam open your letters. They have nose trouble, at least that’s how Mom described them. No matter how busy their own lives are, they always find time…
By Sharon M. Kennedy My mother, her mother, and Mom’s sister my Aunt Kate We all reach a certain age when the past is more real than the present. I’m not talking about folks with Alzheimer’s disease, just folks that have time to sit quietly and reflect on the years…
By Sharon M. Kennedy Well, I guess there’s ample ground for the impeachment and permanent removal of Grandpa Joe. After all the hullabaloo about finding highly classified documents in the basement of a Florida home, we now discover boxes containing some of the same stuff in Joe’s old office and…
By Sharon M. Kennedy A few years ago I made an appointment to see a dermatologist. Don’t ask me how, but a sliver of vanity survived all the tribulations I’ve endured throughout the years and that’s what prompted the visit to the doctor’s office. My condition wasn’t serious, just a…
by Sharon M. Kennedy Every vehicle comes with a fifth wheel. It’s meant for emergencies so it won’t get you very far, but in a pinch it’s a good thing to have at the ready. It’s kind of like having an unmarried friend. Such a person comes in handy when…
by Sharon M. Kennedy The SideRoad Kids are anxious to tell their side of the story penned by the author. Tonight at 7:00 p.m. they’ll get their chance. They’ve waited a long time to speak up, and they’re ready for their Zoom call this evening. Flint is almost jumping out…
By Sharon M. Kennedy In Rome, there’s a marble mask called the “Mouth of Truth.” It rests against a portico wall in a village I won’t even attempt to spell. The other day I took a break from endless chores and watched an old movie called “Roman Holiday.” Audrey Hepburn…
by Sharon M. Kennedy People who live in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula are known as Yoopers. We’re a peculiar lot. We’re usually thick-skinned because we have to be. Winters are harsh, summers abound with ticks and porcupines, and spring and autumn are almost non-existent. We make a living any way we…
