Squaw Beach, outside of Big Bay, 25 miles north of Marquette. Photo, Vince Kern. Copyright 2008 -- All Rights Reserved.

Just past noon on this Friday in early June, the regulars at the Hungry Hollow Cafe’ next to Cramm’s General Store in Big Bay, Michigan are coming to life as the sun finally appears on an otherwise blustery day. Omelettes are still being served as folks start a bit later up here, and I’ve just polished off a dandy sausage and cheese.

A large local man with grey hair and a nice smile depsite a missing tooth orders a huge salad. In familiar farmer-blue overalls, a blue tee-shirt and suspenders he seems to be here every time I visit.

“It’s nice out,” he tells Chris the server smiling from under an earthy-colored bandanna. Chris agrees and brings me more coffee as I recall the standards for “nice weather” I maintained when I lived in Marquette. Back then, 58 cloudy and near-drizzly days did, indeed, make one feel like walking.

I feel happy for the lumberjack and the weather changes to on and off sunshine faster than my comparisons mattered.

Another local blonde woman sits chatting with Chris at the diner bar about her husband’s work and crazy truck drivers bringing logs through here this week. And behind me, two men I have not seen yet sit chatting about the weekend and reminding each other about attending “Aggie’s birthday party at 2 o’clock Saturday.”

Aggie is our neighbor and dear friend on Squaw Beach who visits from town in the summer. At age 89 tomorrow, her son Pete may agree to let her “retire” from her cabin duties but I wouldn’t bet on it. Peter Tenyke is a local man who covers a lot of territory. He is fire chief, county employee and overall goodwill ambassador for this small town of about 550 located 25 miles north of Marquette. He knows full well Aggie will never stop being busy and only teases her with a life of leisure.

On our section of the beach there’s work to do. My sister Andrea, brother-in-law Jim and I arrived yesterday to buckle down for some cleaning and R&R in between. So far, we’re off to a slow, but good start. But I wish our other sister brother and my lovely wife, Sheila, could be here too.

And so it goes up here, folks will arrive from several states throughout the day but won’t overwhelm the peacefully-removed-spirit of this area. We’ll watch the weather to see how things develop, looking for glorious beach sun or stars at night.

No matter, there’s an uplifting sameness to seeing my smiling well-fed breakfast friend, the lumberjack, write a check for his meal while the chef sits at the bar and chats with regulars. The men behind me have decided on pie and so that’s my que to go.

Otherwise, I will turn a thousand-plus calorie breakfast into a pie-laden napping afternoon instead of working. Hmmmmmm…….

And we call this a working trip up  north…………..

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Final Four Visitors: Move Along, There’s Nothing to See Here!

So, here we are in Detroit busy welcoming fanatical basketball friends from Connecticut, North Carolina, Philly (Villanova) and our own Sparty fans from around Michigan.

Yesterday, the Detroit Free Press set up a camera in the corner of the court inside Ford Field and streamed a great video of MSU’s practice. There were 30,000 people in attendance after waiting in a snaking entrance line in the rain on a 50-MPH day.

Amazing.

I watched the practice on the web on my lunch time. Today, I realize I should have done something else.

Instead of chewing contentedly on a hammy sammy in the comfortable confines of my downtown office, I should have been concerned for the masses. I should have had about 100,000 little cards printed up with the following message:

“If you see anything about the Detroit City Council on freep.com or detnews.com or any local television broadcast or hear about their shennanigans on radio, ignore it. It’s merely an extension of our own little April Fool’s joke that we in the media like to play. Surely you know no no real governing body could be so ridiculous — Please come back in five years.”

Then, I should have set out on the task of distributing the cards throughout the weekend.

Not in on the joke? Check it out here

Seriously, folks, this cannot be real!

And Now, for the Main Event: Nothing!!

Photo, Vince Kern -- All Copyrights Reserved 2009

(Pinckney — MI) Every morning Google Calendar sends me a blank email at about 4:36 a.m. while I cling to my last hour of sleep.

“You have no events scheduled today,” the subject line informs my ever-alert Blackberry.

I sleep on, unaware.

Usually, around 5:38 a.m. , I see the memo and say “Thank you!” as I’m waiting for my first cup of Kuerig coffee.

“No events”  is a wonderful proposition, indeed.

I set up my Google Calendar to track personal items such as dentist appointments, work out days, pay days to look forward to, birthdays and other such things that relate to the more important and familial parts of  life. Work is excluded. It has its own inescapable nagging Outlook reminders.

 I love reading that Google email first thing in the morning. Today, I didn’t see it until noon.

It’s been a grueling last two weeks of transforming the Detroit Free Press, Detroit News and Detroit Media Partnership for all of us. Last night I had to hit the sack at 8:30. It took all the energy I had left to make it up the stairs. And I clocked an adult-record 14.5 hours of sleep. Aside from the mandatory trip to the dry cleaner before closing time at 3 p.m.to retrieve my clean and snappy business duds, nothing is going to get me off my property today.

About 1 p.m., I tweeted to the 28 folks who follow me on Twitter :“Daring anyone from work to call or email me today! Go ahead, but this will be my blanket response “zzzzzzzzzzzz” — & crickets chirping.”

It’s now 4:12 p.m. and I haven’t done too bad with that challenge. One email from an Advertising person returned accidentaly (I forgot) and one incoming phone call from a colleague. Scratch the phone call off the list because it was his butt that dialed and I’m back to one email returned for now.

Michigan State in the Final Four tonight means if they win I’ll be up till 1 a.m. or later Tuesday directing production for the Championship game. “Go Spartans!!” I say, but I’m going back to my Google Calendar to schedule an event for tomorrow.

Google. Calendar. Open Sunday, April 4, 2009. New Event. Time? All Day Event.

Subject?

Take Another Day Off On Me, The Vinman.

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(C) Photo copyright by Vincent J. Kern -- 2008 -- All rights reserved.

 A hundred feet out in Big Bay of Lake Superior and it’s shallow enough to still stand on the bottom, in water up to my neck. There are no clouds, no boats, no airplanes and no real worries at all.

And especially, no more spoony thoughts of the 2008 Detroit Tigers’ chance to make the playoffs.

Long having attained relaxation here this week, I have finally shed the last visage of stress in my life this morning: caring about the Tigers’ fate this year. Stayed up until midnight to watch extra innings in a game that should have already been won (again) and went to bed to avoid watching (again) a walk-off winning home run in the bottom of the 14th inning after the Tigers had gone ahead.

But enough about that.

Standing in Lake Superior with eye-level, crystal clear fresh water is as good as it gets. There is no other treatment for a body and soul that is as refreshing. None, I challenge you!

The temperature of the water is such that your inner-core cools to a perfect refreshing chill. It’s as if any stress toxins are simply sought out and politely escorted out by the water.

The clarity of vision one has in this water is near perfect. One can look down in the neck-high water and count the number of small hairs on one’s leg (if one were so inclined to do so). Or better yet, swim under the cool drink and open your eyes to spy the sandy bottom in clear sight all around.

On a perfect August beach day, the outside temperature is about 80-something, no humidity, a bit of a breeze, and the sun is extremely direct. A bit of frolicking on the beach is the perfect preparation for a baptismal, cooling dip.

The cleansing chill and ultimate refreshment lasts through the day. Even a bit of your favorite warming beverage cannot dissolve the theraputic, soul-clensing action of Lake Superior.

It’s as good as it gets.

I think I’ll call Jim Leyland and invite him up for a dip – I bet he could use a little better “good as it gets” these days.

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