What's up today (bullchiting) thread.

"Spruce Point Bay"

"In 1986, if you took a winding road,
Crossed about a dozen bridges,
Where the crystal rivers flowed,
You'd come to a fork, you turn off left,
Drive another 16 miles,
The mountainside, the evergreens,
Stay beside you all the while.
You'll come to a fork in the road,
It's worth it to go both ways,
And the sign stands with pride and says,
"Welcome to Spruce Point Bay".

On either side of the clear blue harbor,
Houses shined in many different colors,
No one of them looked like another,
And the general store, Wilkinson brothers',
Stood just around the bend.

And the locals would look at you, wonder who you are.
But if you talk for a while, they'll welcome you with open arms.
It's just they don't see many strangers come this way,
Everyone knows everyone else in Spruce Point Bay.

And grandma Jones is probably staring out her door,
She's seeing everything but she don't know what she's looking for,
And dockside is half empty for three seasons out of four,
Almost half the locals make their living fishing offshore.
But if you wait, some of them might be back today,
40 fishing boats call their home in Spruce Point Bay.

And most of the other half the workforce here,
Work in that big white building,next to the Eastside pier.
They take all the boats' fish,and prepare it to be sold away.
It's the only industry in Spruce Point Bay.

And the hundred year old church is up a long hill,
The preacher is a kind old man named Bill.
A little gas station is just to your right as you come in,
And the sawmill's out a gravel road, can walk there in nine minutes or ten.
And Spruce Point Mountain forces the Northeast wind away,
The storms, they aren't so bad in Spruce Point Bay.

And the locals can point to every rock, or every house, or probably every tree,
And they'd tell you a story about each one, could keep you all day if you were free,
And they could point to every person walking by, and tell you all about he or she,
Because the 1,200 people in this cove are sort of one big family.
And you'll understand why, when they look at you and say,
They wouldn't live nowhere but Spruce Point Bay.

But the federal government just don't care,
About a tiny little place like here,
Money and power is their only friend.
The big foreign trawlers helped themselves,
Be it a baby fish, eggs, or a few clamshells,
That net don't discriminate, it eats whatever it may suck in.
And the fish dwindled till they were almost gone away,
And there was hardly a bite on the hook in Spruce Point Bay.

In 1992, government man said they're nearly all gone,
So we can't fish no more for only heaven knows how long,
In an instant all the jobs were all gone away.
Now almost everyone's unemployed in Spruce Point Bay.

The years slipped by, the financial aid ran dry,
The stack of bills was getting very high,
And many people's money was all gone,
But that won't make the power Co keep the lights on.
And another house was abandoned every day,
They had no choice, they had no way to stay,
And they cried as they hit the road from Spruce Point Bay.

Those who reached the golden years,
By lucky chance, they had been spared,
They'd already put in their five decades,
Now old age pension kept their bills all paid,
They weren't rich if you look at richness that way,
But at least they still could live in Spruce Point Bay.

So the general store and gas station, they stayed afloat,
But the business wasn't what it was 10 years ago,
It was quieter and slower nowadays,
Cause now it's mostly just seniors left in Spruce Point Bay.

But the bakery is gone, and the owner moved away,
The old folks bake their own bread, after all they've got all day,
And if you want to build anything,
The name brand store's an hour away,
Cause there's no sawmill no more in Spruce Point Bay.

And the boats are hauled ashore, rotting where they lie,
They might not float no more, I'd be half afraid to try,
Half the houses are leaking, but there's nothing inside to get wet,
And the writing's on the wall,
But it's a slow and painful death.
The old folks are growing weary, they miss the days gone by,
And when they think of their family, a tear comes to their eye.
The sons and daughters are a ten hour drive, or a plane ride away,
And don't ask them where they're from, they might just look away,
A tear comes to their eye when they think of Spruce Point Bay.

Well old folks don't live forever, that's the cycle of this life.
Old Stanley Dawe moved away with his son, right after he lost his wife.
They thinned out little by little, till there was nobody left,
And the 5 people who still had jobs, closed those 2 little stores and left.
Thirty years ago you'd never think you'd see the day,
The last light flickered out in Spruce Point Bay.

The houses they don't shine no more, the paint is all but peeled away,
You can kick a hole in all the boats, and I wouldn't walk out on the quay.
Big Joe's peterbilt is rusting away, she used to be a big shiny red brute,
And there's more potholes left than road, but I guess that point is moot.
The road leads to the highway, but I wouldn't trust that bridge no more,
But the river's just as cool and clear as it ever was before.
And the only people that come around now, bring flowers for those passed away,
The graveyard's all that's left in Spruce Point Bay."

 

TrinitySouth99 hitting the like button seems rather inadequate for that poem. So true of small places on this side of the country as well.

 

ole Nice looking place you bought. Is this a permanent home or just a holiday place? How much property came with it? So many questions but we would all like to know.

 

Many places all over the world like it. Some of the small places are prospering, and it's very nice to see. But others, not so much....

 

I do get slightly swollen hands on occasion that makes it hard to make a fist. Because of the inflammation of soft tissue it is a really frustrating arthritis. You never know where or when you’ll get a flare. Some people with my type of arthritis get what are referred to as Sausage Fingers. It’s a rare subtype of Psoriatic arthritis, but it is one of the worst types to have. My hands are constantly in pain and my tendons feel tight because they are most affected by the inflammation. I can’t extend my fingers all the way on my right hand. Incoming low pressure systems tend to give me a flare before it arrives and once it starts to rain or snow it eases up. My family calls me the human barometer. Haha.

Also, I get very fatigued because of the type I have.

 

Boy, do I know that feeling. The next day let’s me know that the temporary relief of a pain pill to do more will come back and bite me in the behind. Hang in there and keep making progress

 

I keep the PT types guessing today is a rest day only short walks and one mile on the goes nowhere. I try to stay limber. My day off routine will change as I can do more. I'm putting candles in the windows as it may be my limit this day.

 

King of the wood jungle

 

Busy as you guys have been and you decide to throw a new pup in the mix.
Looking forward to seeing pics of the little lady.

 

Really do like your poems. Thanks for sharing.

 

It’s a second home. I will take some inside pics after the closing. It is a 5 minute walk to a public sandy beach on Wisconsin’s 4th largest lake, Castle Rock. This is where our son likes to ice fish. I think he is more excited about this purchase than we are!

 

I feel much the same way about popping a pain pill, but to others, they become highly defensive about their use. It is all very individual. In my family, we have had addictive behaviors with booz and pain meds. I think some are more susceptible than others. Given that, I'm staying away from most all pain medications. Problem is that that limits my mobility and sleep. I have taken some Tylenol from time to time but try to avoid it.

 

Tylenol and I don't get along projectile vomiting ensues.

 

Rest day.
90' morning walker walk.
1.0 miles goes nowhere.
90' evening walker walk.
5 candles in windows and Christmas closet contents gumming up my measured walkway. Messy, messy Bear. Candles are lit.

 

Her name will be Holly. Family picked it out.

 

I hope she picks up sticks. I need a helper...

 

Great only you would name your dog after my sister!!!


Family member had a son who is about five and had a male yellow lab named Sam. Mom got pregnant, and was asking the family what they should name the little girl. The Son’s answer is I think we should name her Sam.... as I couldn’t love anybody more than my dog. So I have a niece named Samantha

 

True that, but I can post pics all winter long of metal roofs a lot steeper than the one on the camp that will be snow covered until the thaw.

The camp's roof over the porch is not sloped much at all for shedding snow. Like I said, probably don't get much snow down there where it is located anyway.

 

My camp has a 12 pitch standing seam metal roof. When the building has been cold for a while the snow will build up on the roof. We get the stove going when we get there and usually sometime in the middle of the night there is a loud noise and it all slides off one time covering my sled note to self do not park there again!