I love morning glories, always have since I was a kid. I especially love the blue ones, when the sunlight shines through them and makes them glow. Last year, my morning glories were especially wonderful, growing up along my kitchen door climbing up the trellis and onto the wires creeping up onto my roof.
But those same morning glories can be tough to pull down when they get tangled up in wires, and I ran into a problem, when I managed to pull a few wires down along with the morning glories. One particular telephone wire came down from underneath the siding and hung in a loopy U in front of my kitchen window since the spring. Not a big problem, but it was time to take care of it.
Yesterday, an extraordinary event occurred right here in my Glen Arbor backyard. Two members of this community, one whom I had never met, and another whom I met only once although he is iconic in this area, showed up at my back door to offer a helping hand.
Glen Arbor is full of extraordinary people, and here were two of them. One is named Darla. I don't even know her last name—yet. The other is none other than World War II veteran engineer Stan Brubaker, father of the famed and infamous Glen Arbor 4th of July parade.
Stan lives just a mile from me. Even so, the only other time I met him was at our most recent Memorial Day weekend ceremony at the historic Glen Arbor Cemetery. Yet, the Brubaker name was well known. Not only had I heard of him, but friends of mine are friends of his daughter. Stan told me they’ve been coming up here since the early 1950s, just like I have. (I was 4 years old at the time, he, a little older.)
Back to my little downed wire problem. I don’t have an extension ladder and wouldn’t climb one if I did; my balance is less than optimal. I get off balance just turning around quickly. Put me on a little three-step ladder and I have to hold on to something or I’ll topple. So, even though this was just a little bit above the roof line, I knew I wasn't the one to do this.
I have been able to find some really good handy-man help over the years, and I’ve got a few good people right now, but they lack the ladder. My family is currently visiting, but we didn’t know where to get one either.
So, who you gonna call when you need help in Glen Arbor or in Leelanau County? Our local Facebook groups, of course.
Overheard in Leelanau County is one of the most powerful Facebook groups I know. Last time I checked it had it over 28,000 members. I post regularly with my events and artwork. People there are responsive and supportive; it's so much fun to engage with that community. When I don’t know where to turn, it’s my go-to. That's where I found the wonderful guy who digs up bushes for me when they need to be moved. Other wonderful folks have come over to give me a hand when I need it. And a lot of clients for paintings, prints, cards, and Redbubble products have found me there. It’s just an unbelievable community.
Even so, I thought, why not start even more locally? I started the Glen Arbor Facebook group in 2017 out of just this kind of a need I perceived in our area. Sometimes it’s hard to find what you need, even when it’s just around the corner or, as it turned out in this case, at your own back door. Not with resources like this.
I posted my call for help. Within minutes, “Darla” answered. We made a plan: she would borrow a ladder and stop by in two days.
At 4:30 on the dot yesterday afternoon, a cute little white pickup pulled up in my drive. Not only did Darla get out from the driver’s side, but there was the ladder owner himself, Stan Brubaker, getting out on the passenger side and walking into my backyard with his toolbox.
Before I knew it, Darla was up on the ladder tucking things back where they belong like a pro. That girl had no problem with balance; that was easy to see. Within minutes she was finished.
I had to give her something. She had already told me beforehand that she wouldn’t take any pay, so I lamely offered a few 8-packs of my note cards.
She surprised me when she replied, “How about one of your books?” Evidently, one of her friends had read one of the two about my experiences with a couple of ghosts and their life and afterlife stories.
While she was putting away the ladder, I retrieved two books from the trunk of my car. I always have books in the trunk of my car, even after 15 years. I got one Aaron’s Crossing for Darla and one for Stan. I didn’t know if he would want to read it, but at least it was something. I autographed and inscribed them with a little note of thanks.
When I gave them the books, I sensed that Darla was somewhat familiar with the story. I explained to Stan that the book started at the Glen Arbor Township Cemetery, where we met in May. I also explained that the genre was called “Creative Nonfiction” for a reason—the parts where I’m in it did happen; the rest may have, and we laughed. Then I told him how I tried to corroborate who I “picked up” at the cemetery back before the book was published. I went to the town hall and talked with Bonnie Quick, the clerk at the time, who told me that the National Park requested all the cemetery records when they took over the cemetery property, and Glen Arbor sent them over.
When I went over to the national park Visitors Center, they said they never received them. In my work with the park since then, straightening out the cemetery ownership, they continue to maintain that they do not have the records. Meanwhile, a dedicated group of local historians is working episodically in the basement of the town hall to see what they can find.
Stan and Darla seemed pleased with their gifts. “I’ll wave next time I see ya,” Stan said as he walked back to the little truck. Then they were gone. That wire is back where it belongs as this year’s morning glories track back up to find it again.
What an amazing place this is. Better yet, what amazing people live here.
To learn more about me and my work—my art and my writing—go to www.lindaalicedewey.com