Michigan Memories

Traveling up to Northern Michigan to visit my grandparents always transported me back to a different time. They lived in a small town, I always felt the excitement when we'd reach the bottom of the hill where the sign said welcome to Champion. There was a gas station across the street from the hill it was a small store that had gas, groceries and was home to a delicious summer time treat.

My grandfather was a very active man and loved to go on hikes, swimming and riding bikes with us. We always went on Summer adventures like hiking to black rock and jumping into the lake, swimming in Lake Superior, and jumping off bridges into water. He was fearless and I admired and adored him.

This particular memory makes me smile every time I think about but as an adult I understand my grandmother's frustration over the situation. She was busy in the kitchen cooking chili and homemade cornbread for dinner and my siblings and I were in her way. Itching to do something so my grandpa came up with a brilliant plan to get us out of her hair. Ha-ha.

He brought us outside and told us all to get our bikes. I thought we were going to bike to the mine to go collect shiny rocks - that was one of my absolute favorite things to do as a kid but on this day we turned down the opposite way on the street and as we were riding he told us that we were going to bike down the hill, past the school to go to the little gas station to get ice cream.

It was thrilling passing by the trees and smelling the mulberries, feeling the warm sun on my bare shoulders, the breeze whipping against our bodies as we put the pedal to the metal and rode down the street with him. It wasn't a long ride and once we got there we propped our bikes against the wall before walking in.

Scents trigger memories but this memory triggers that scent and it brings me all the joy I felt as a child in that moment. My grandfather told us to pick out what we wanted. I always got cotton candy and bubblegum ice cream in a cone. Grandpa paid and we all stepped outside to eat our cones. The summer heat fading as it got later but I remember it was still warm enough to melt my ice cream. The cotton candy sweetness dripped on my fingers and when I finished my cone I was a sticky mess.

Riding our bikes back home was a trip - the hill that had been so fun to ride down was now a mountain to climb to get back up. I was full of ice cream and struggling to keep up with the group. I ended up having to get off and walk my bicycle up the hill. Once up the hill I climbed back on and caught up to the group. My brothers taunted me calling me a slow poke but my grandfather just smiled at me and we rode back to the house.

When we got there we put our bikes back in the shed and then ran into the house to wash our hands and faces. Dinner was almost ready. I remember the look at my grandmother's face knowing we had done something and her smiling at my grandpa unable to stay upset with him.

We rode to that ice cream shop at least twice every visit we had there in the summer and that hill got easier over time. My summer was full of cotton candy and bubblegum. I, to this day, have not found another ice cream shop with those two flavors that have ever tasted that good. Then again, I'm not riding my bike with my grandfather to get my ice cream either. I think the whole experience is what made it so good.