Saturday, December 14, 2013

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas to all our friends and family! Gotta start the baking and wrapping now that the decorating and the cards are addressed and the infamous holiday letter is written. It has been a year full of blessings. We have grown and stretched more than we would have thought possible. We will continue to power on. Meet us at Hog's breath in Key West (which is where I hope we can find the time to take a post snowmobile season vacation/annual planning business trip)this spring and we will tell you all about it over a nice cold Margarita! Thank you all for your love and support- we could not do it without you! Title: The Dick and Sue in2013 Sub-title: The year that will go down in infamy. Talking Points: • Dick and Sue open the Aqualand Ale House in Boulder Jct Wisconsin • Dick and Sue experience year of separate, together, separate, together living as they work to make their dreams come true • Dick discovers that he still has a fear of bats • Sue triples her staff in the interior design department at ADCI • Sue re-discovers the art of juggling • Dick finds a creative way to get a new truck with Man-toy plow (hint: involves tree and airbag deployment- way different than military deployment) • Sue leaves purse in record three strange locations/places and has to track it down. Cell phone, i-pad and car keys and miscellania also scattered around the country randomly- not intended as scavenger hunt, but becomes one • Perry and Stacie go to Europe for their 2 ½ week honeymoon five years after the wedding- Grandma Sue, Grandpa Dick and rock star Uncle Dan get 2 ½ weeks of together time with Jude highlighted by a little game we called “pooping for prizes”. Mission accomplished. • Dan works as right hand man at the Aqualand Ale House and song writer. Finishes year road tripping with band/roommates polishing up his sound tech skills for future tours and wears the same pair of moccasins for the second straight year- we are taking up a collection to help Dan buy big boy shoes…. • House, cabin, cars and office all look like disaster zones, no time for regular chores- for a year… • Closer connection to northwoods family, pretty sure we are a pain in the rear at crisis times at the Ale House- family to borrow from- and not just a cup of sugar. More like ladder, table, crock pot, strong arms, brains, etc…thank God for them • Renew old friendships, make many, many new friends…Dick and Sue learn the art of conversation and discover common ground over and over and over and over with ale house guests. Discover that most people are totally awesome • Drink lots of great beers • Learn lots. Lots and lots about shoes with proper support for long days on concrete floors, beer glasses, toilet paper types, small business tax burdens, whiskey etc. • Celebrate 31 years together • Ollie turns 14, Gracie 10- senior doggies…bad breath • God is with us, God is for us, God holds us in the palm of His hand. The End Check out our journey by visiting our facebook page, or check our website, www.aqualandalehouse.com. There is a web link to Sue’s blog here that gives you more story of where we have been and where we are headed.

Sunday, December 8, 2013

Trimmings

I have decorated two trees so far, and a third one is still needing me at our winter home in Boulder Jct. I found some time to shop this weekend, realizing that the rest of my time will be spent up at the Ale House or working my weekday job. The holidays were weird last year. Dick was in school, studying up on Food Service Management as part of the preparation for the ale house opening last spring. this year feels like it is gearing up to be even weirder. Bouncing back and forth like a ping pong ball, in the midst of trying to find our traditions, I am realizing that it is time. Time to lay down the old and find the new. I wonder how these moments felt to my parents. That moment when you realize that it is time to stop trying to recreate the past every Christmas. It is such a temptation to avoid thinking too deeply about how the present and future will be different from the past. As a rose colored glasses girl, I see the past as perfection. Opening the Aqualand Ale House has been birthing a dream. We have enjoyed so much about it, but at times like this I miss our simpler, more available life. But then I remember the thing that very few people know about my husband. He has a heart for people. When I look at someone and wonder worriedly where my purse is, he reaches out a hand. One of my first invites from him when we were first getting to know each other was to come over to his place at college, where he was renting a room from Paul, a world war one veteran. (there needs to be a story about Paul some other time). Dick told me he had invited a few people from Inter-Varsity Christian Fellowship, the campus group we had met through, over to play board games. I was already smitten, so of course I accepted the invitation. Upon arriving, I was surprised at the ragtag group of misfits he had assembled. Even in a para-church group, there were cliques- the popular, spiritual leader cool kids, the middle of the roads and the socially awkwards. It was strictly this last bunch who were Dick's guests at his very first venture into making friends at college. I was surprised, but jumped into the fun and enjoyed myself immensely. After everyone else left, I stayed behind to help clean up and I asked him how come he had selected the group for the night. He said simply, "I chose the ones that looked like they needed a friend." We have been arguing about opening for extended hours over the holidays, to include the Monday and Tuesday- Christmas Eve. I am selfish, I want family time. But then, I remember the man I married. This man who led men's groups for years, not so much mentoring, but just giving men a safe place to open up about the things they felt alone with. This man who looked into VA chaplin's assistant work and prison ministry before landing at the Ale House. This man who shares God's love in a unique way every day, has chosen to care for people to give them a great environment to feel welcome and hopes to help them enjoy something tasty and comforting. We have a new family, and a cozy place to gather. I will let him decide. I am pretty sure this is the last Christmas on the bubble. By next year, we will know better where home needs to be. We know I need to work, and I have a great career that I am good at. It provides a certain number which our new life of risk can count on. But perhaps we need to sell the old homestead. Perhaps a small work week apartment will be better for me and perhaps we need to unroll that set of plans that is all drawn up for our new home on the puddle out by the original Aqualand. I have been fighting with myself. My heart needs to be clear about it's place, and this home has been my refuge through three deployments. I know how to be safe here. The problem is that my life is moving on and when I am home to work each week, it is easy to try to re-create my nest. But nest is now empty except for momma, and momma is ready realizing it is time to rebuild. I am ready to decorate that last tree- the northern-most tree. I am ready to celebrate the holidays with all my new friends and the man with the big heart.

Saturday, November 16, 2013

I will not fear the terrors that come in the night...

I am at the Frog House today, selling, reading and now, blogging this rainy cool day away. Fall has come as promised and with the dropping temperatures also comes the dropping income that is the promise of every tourist based economy world wide. When planning our business, we expected this. Having grown up in the north woods, I understand the days when, if there are fresh tracks running down County "K", I can look at them and say, "John is up early today", because I know the only car that may be traveling this road, heading that way... I have always loved so many things about this season when I get out my insulated carhart bibs,my Joan of Ark Sorels my little box of Swedish Pimples, and head out onto the lake with my dad to catch the last white fish and lake trout of the season. Racing off to the woods to collect pine cones, the tiny ones in particular, which can only be found in a few secret spots...picking princess pine to dry and gathering acorn caps- all the secret ingredients in my holiday potpourri and ornaments... Then there is the "harvesting of the boughs", trimming back the overgrowth on our back road to keep access open and also providing me with the ingredients for my fall-to- winter landscaping pots. But this year, we have a business, and business comes first. I am in awe of the many entrepreneurs of the north woods who have mastered their fears and found a way to survive through the long winter's night. I have a new appreciation for the notion of "shop local", though for many years I have purposed to do my first round of holiday shopping in Boulder Jct. I look at the parking lots at each establishment, hoping we all have cars because having cars means having a little more help in keeping the lights on and the doors open. While I understand the value of saving at the big box and the chain restaurant, I am more sad than ever that friends and neighbors seem to forget that every purchase put into those places is the purchase that could have truly helped the little guys next door. Fear is our new best friend. We knew the fall would come and with it a massive slow down to what has been an awesome first year. We have been told that the snow will bring a season nearly as good or better than summer if we just hold on and keep the faith. But in the night we hear the whisper that all the more established and seasoned small business owners of Boulder Junction must surely also be hearing right now, "what if". What if the snow doesn't come? what if there is snow, but no snowmobilers? What if there is snow and there are snowmobilers, but no one comes to our business? What if the money runs out? What if, what if, what if.... We are people of faith, so this comforts us to relax into the belief that we are trusting in the one who knows the future. But wow, I have a whole new appreciation of the risk taken by so many before us. In this season of shopping and giving, I encourage each of us to think twice about the big box holidays versus the small business owner holidays. Kind of like when we give a cash gift to a specific person we can know it was a gift well placed, when we shop with a small business owner, we can know that every purchase can change their future. We love Boulder Junction, we intend to stay. If you have not tried the Ale House before now, please come. If you have been before, please come, and please send a friend. I know if you read my blog you are already supporters, so thank you and know that every visit helps to ease the terrors that come in the night!

Thursday, November 7, 2013

My Veteran

In honor of Veteran's Day, I am republishing a piece I wrote as a contest submission after my husband, known to most of you as the pony-tailed proprietor of the Aqualand Ale House, returned from his first overseas tour. He went on to tour one more time, in part to set funds aside towards the purchase of our dream. This Veteran's Day week, as always, he is my hero...I love you sweetheart... War By Susie Wilsie-Govier I once heard that a new puppy would sleep better if you give her something with your scent to snuggle up in. There is safety for in the smell of someone close, someone loved. Reaching into his suitcase, I pull out a dirty t-shirt. He hadn’t been home since June but I had an opportunity to say one more goodbye in early August before he left the country and me, for a year. When asked to go, he wanted to know how I felt about it, but I knew I really couldn’t stop him. He was a career military man. Going was what he was trained to do. As his love, best friend and wife, I always knew that I had not married a tame boy. As I sat on our bed that first night home, the first night of the goodby-ing day, I cried into the dirty t-shirt that represented our connection- our love. I could sniff him with me, but he wasn’t; not even close. On a plane to a distant land, full of excitement, fear and grief, I knew he reveled in the gift of resurrection. In helping secure our national freedom, he was finding his own as well. After years spent working for the office military machine he was larger than life once again- a soldier. I could almost imagine his stretching. I could almost smile. I knew he needed this, but I mourned for the loss of him. I knew that now, faced with such a long separation I would do what I had to do just like I always had. My father had taught me to be strong and it was now up to me to show my sons how to do it. Even with this understanding, I also knew doing this would take much from me. When my husband was deployed, I didn’t like to be touched. I was very brittle at times, very close to crumbling at every hug. The going this time was going to be tough and I was impatient with others, wanting them to let me to get on with it, thinking, “let’s just get this over with already.” In those last few days with my husband, I was not very kind to him. As we wandered around sporting goods stores searching for performance underwear, I was frustrated. He couldn’t decide what he would really need for sure, so was reluctant to purchase. I wanted him to just take one of everything, as if it was one way I could show him I cared. His choice to leave the stores without purchase made me irrationally angry. As he spent his goodbye moments with his sons, I watched, and moved them towards each other as much as possible. I wanted them all to know that should the worst happen, there would be no years of words laying there as “should have saids” for my sons to feel as wounds that would change them irreparably. Likewise, I wanted his last memories of his sons to be those of a man proud of the men he had raised, confident that they knew he expected them to carry my burdens for him while he could not. As for me, I wanted none of him and yet I wanted all of him. This man who needed to leave was leaving me and it did not feel good. This man who was going to war was severing himself from the daily rituals of our love; rituals that normally got us both through every stressful and tiring day. How would I replace that? The only way I knew how was to shut each open door. Every caress in those last few days together was at once life giving and a wounding scratch, scrape, puncture or poke in the eye. The last look I saw in his eyes was that of a little boy, sad to be separating, but excited for adventure. I knew he was hurting too, but as the one getting left behind I felt my pain was worse because I wasn’t heading somewhere. There was no adventure waiting for me except that of being alone. With both boys soon headed off to college, I would be experiencing our first year of empty nesting all by myself. At First, I tried to make each day a treat. But one can only eat perfectly seasoned grilled, medium-rare steaks and steamed asparagus in the recliner while watching re-runs of “Sex In The City” (a show he hated) so many nights in a row before the novelty wears off and the jeans get too tight. Often I went to see a massage therapist, for I was holding myself too tightly; my body tensing constantly in trying to shelter me from the wounding that I felt inside. Communication was hard. He was in an area without a base, so there would be no skyping, very sketchy phone calling and infrequent mail. I was truly on my own clutching my power of attorney form and prepared will. Beyond lonely, I bought a new puppy and named her Gracie. Curling in my lap every night, I dozed in the chair with her, since a king sized bed seemed a mockery. Eventually, when I did finally muster the courage to climb into bed, the T.V. stayed on all night, alternately comforting me with its chatter and waking me when I had finally dozed off. Door locking became an obsessive compulsive exercise. Kitchen chairs braced every knob of every already locked door; my homespun version of a security system. Noises that were unfamiliar became fictional scenes of horror almost every day and every night. I traveled for work, often gone long hours at a time. On coming home, my walking through every room and looking under every bed bothered me, but seemed somehow important, logical and wise. When you are all alone, you can lie to yourself quite effectively. If I wasn’t busy spoiling my irrational fears, I was bragging on myself, to myself, about how smart I was- how mature. I mentally wandered, imagining the scene when Oprah called asking me to speak on behalf of soldier’s wives everywhere. Of course she teared up on the phone as she begged me to come on her show to tell my story. Even in my day dreams, I realized my story wasn’t tragic enough when I rehearsed the telling in my mind. It would need to grow in order to make my appearance the most moving show of the year. He would need to die a heroes death, yes, that would be a sure fire (oh my...unfortunate choice of fantasy words) way to get that call. Snapping out of my fantasy, appalled, I would try and stop thinking. But in the night, when there was no one else around, I would truly wonder what would become of me if the unthinkable were to happen. Would I continue to live in this house, filled with so many memories? Would I move back up north to the lonely woods where I grew up? What would I do with his clothes, his things? Would I get a flag at the service? Could I stand through a 21 gun salute? Or would Taps bring me to my knees? How would I use the life insurance money? Would I buy a hot tub like we had always talked about doing- or would I even want one if I would be sitting under the stars alone? How long would I mourn- or would I have sort of pre-mourned for the number of months he had already been gone? Would I ever re-marry? If so, who would I want my next husband to be- like him or the opposite so it wouldn’t remind me; so it would hurt a little less? Would I even be able to go on without him? Would I ever laugh or ever have fun again? When this train of thought got out of control, I tried to escape myself, gathering friends, kids and projects like water to a thirsty soul. My oasis became busyness, never stopping until I was beyond dead on my feet. If I worried about being over committed, that worrying only gave me less time to think about more dangerous things. I obsessively watched Fox News since they covered the war most fully. Fearing every mention of casualties, I still needed to hear every word of every broadcast just the same. I was hungry for “fair and balanced” mentions of death, peppered between stories of movie stars and weather. If those deaths were not in Paktika Provence, Afghanistan, I could breathe a little easier for a time. Veteran’s Day took me by surprise- not ready for it, I cried all day. Everywhere I looked there were old men saluting something, uniforms on T.V. and marching bands moving down to city parks to fire blanks in tribute to the Veterans- the symbols of pride, death and dying for a cause. As well meaning people thanked me for my service, I could only think of the tomb of the Unknown Soldier- where the T.V. showed the president placing a wreath. Thinking what this tribute meant to some guy’s wife, lover or mother. Those left behind must surely and most strongly remember every soldier; especially the lost ones known for being unknown. Someone had lost them- and they didn’t know how, and that someone forever mourns. Traditional holidays came on as battles to be waged, almost laughable in their effort to drag me down farther. These were the times when I could shine, pulling it all together for everyone else so that I could quickly cross the day off the list- one Thanksgiving, one Christmas, one Valentine’s Day down. I was the soldier at these times too, doing all the right things and keeping it all as “the same” as possible for my boys and everyone else. I will always remember the true friend who, on one of these occasions took position at my side, shoulder to shoulder with me and stated, “Man, this Stinks!” I didn’t need say it, she said it for me. A year is a long time to be apart. Memories are made that cannot be shared and cannot be stopped. You cannot sit still that long, you cannot just wait, and so you don’t. You find hobbies, try new foods, make new friends and you change. You become someone they don’t know and at the end, when they come home, you cannot help but be a stranger. As our year apart came to an end, I stood with the other families waiting to welcome their soldier home. I could see him. He was leaner, tougher and wind burned. His scowl carved a little deeper in his brow and his hair greyer than I remembered. But he was large. I could see his experiences had broadened him and given him the new strength born of adversity. He later described his habit of sleeping on top of the bedding in his clothes always on the alert. I knew in some way that this habit was his body in tune with mine for no real rest had been allowed for either of us this year. Taking him home, we lay down on the bed together for the first time. Now that it was all over we were both desperate for some sleep, but I needed him badly, not even so much physically as just to get the smell of him again, the feel of his skin next to mine. In the end we lay together just looking at each other for the first time in months and talked- talked and talked. As he eventually put his arms around me and encouraged me to sleep- pulling me to spoon against him, I knew everything was okay. We slept truly, deeply, for the first time since those long months apart had begun. Our year apart had changed us both forever. But now that I had breathed him in again, I recognized what was still the same- WE were.

Sunday, November 3, 2013

Home

One of the hardest parts of starting the Aqualand Ale House has been separation. Not unlike the years when my husband deployed to a war zone, he has gone first into the place and space that we plan to retire to in the future. My career is in full swing, and I need to continue to work to ensure the safety blanket of one solid income as we take this huge gamble and venture into the craft beer and gastro-pub industry in the beautiful north. It was my idea that it be Boulder Jct. Those of you who know us know that I have been whining about how badly I want to "go home" ever since I left for college- more than a few seasons ago. That my husband was willing to head in that direction means everything to me. What is interesting is that as of today, we sort of have three homes; the one we have lived in for the last 15 years, the one we built as a three season weekender in the great north woods, and the rental we just moved into this weekend that will give us a warm place to winter. Throughout my husband's military career, we have had a few times of cross country moves- usually temporary, but I learned early how important it is to make each place feel like home. As a designer, the worst torture of all is to spend any length of time in someone else's space. When I was in sales, there were many times of overnight travel. I packed a candle, a throw, a craft project-usually some sort of small scale needle craft, pictures of the family and an exercise DVD. Upon entry, I would set the lighting up to something adequate but soothing, light my candle to make it smell familiar in the space, set the heating unit to fan to drown out the ambient sounds from the hall or highway and then I would put on my sweats, curl up in my throw on the bed and eat my Outback steak house steak and salad take out, my fazolis chicken ceasar salad, or the like. The best! So this weekend, as I moved our basic essentials over to the winter home, I grabbed a throw and some pillows for the couch, our magazine basket and those six books I never got read this busy summer, the scrabble board and a Christmas puzzle, some candles, some small scatter rugs and two pictures- one a replica of an old lake superior south shore map and one an artist print of a smiling otter, picked out in England specifically for out little cabin in the woods which I dubbed Otter Dance. Last night after the ale house closed, we curled up with the latest "Ice Age" movie and everything felt like home. My husband had reminded me that anything we bring in, we have to haul back out in the spring, so to be selective. I reminded him that he always felt better in spaces that had been 're-touched'. He reminded me of his years spent in tents, temporary barracks etc. stating that he could live fine in a spartan environment. My theory is that even when people cannot pin down why they feel good, a feel good space has an affect on everything else. I am guessing that my husband doesn't often light the candles when I am not there, but I am glad to know he can if he wants to. I said we sort of have three homes. Actually, I realize now that I have left out the most important one- the fourth one. The Aqualand Ale House feels like home to us. We intended to have a business, but we have been blessed to find a new home. For instance, this Saturday night was so delightful for me. I was not on the schedule to work, but wanted to sit and just be with my friends and my husband. Upon entering, I was first amazed to find one of my husband's military buddies sitting at the bar. I thought he lived on the west coast, but he has recently relocated to Wisconsin and had driven two hours out of his way (while headed somewhere else)just to see us. We have the closeness with him of a friend from the war zone, a close bond like none other and it was a blessing to see him again. After taking a seat at the bar, I began to talk with a wonderful couple who have become faithful regulars. My husband walked through to Ale House, stopping at each table to check on our guests, and staying to chat often. People love him, and so many are repeat guests, they begin to feel like friends and family hanging out with us in our living room- the biggest difference is that this particular home has twenty taps! Later, a gentleman sat down on my other side and as we talked, he realized that I was the daughter of his old buddy and fishing guide Bruce. We talked easily as he ate dinner and enjoyed a beer, sharing stories or those we have in common. I recognized that I had made a new friend that night too. The definition of home is a place where we feel sheltered and safe, where we recharge our batteries, and where we share our lives with family and friends. Yep- for us, the Aqualand Ale House is all of these. So I amend my count- four homes is more accurate.

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Funny how that happens....

We had that wine tasting I was talking about last Saturday. It was a blast and what a success! twenty seven people managed to find their way to our door in the mid-afternoon hours of a first snow, cold rain, sunny patches sort of saturday. The wine importer, a wonderful Italian gentleman, gave us all a history lesson on the different regions of Italy and the wines that they import from each. We moved north to south, and enjoyed four appetiser courses to complement each two wines to sample a total of eight wines. The wines were fabulous, the sales were brisk and a good time was had by all; funny how that happend... I learned to drink wine on the Nebish road, sipping a little Annie Green Springs like all the other northwoods kids did in the seventies...that girl would have grinned at this adult me who sniffs and swishes and cleanses her palette. I look around and wonder what all these sophisticated adults would think if they knew of my humble beginnings. I suspect I am not the only one in the room who dabbled in Boones Farm Strawberry Hill and Old Style beer before my conversion to a little more of a "pinky up" artisan craft consumer. Funny how that happens! My husband, the beer geek, is a learner. When a thing catches his interest, he endeavors to become thuroughly informed on it. In college, his biggest challenge in doing research papers was in learning when to stop learning and start writing. Even later in military courses, I remember offering to type his paper on the Battle of the Bulge, only to sit up all night with him as he found just one more twist or turn or critical piece to the puzzle that would explain the who, what, where, when and why of that fated time. With every new revelation, the editing would begin again...I finally typed, "and the good guys eventually won, THE END!", and went to bed, leaving him to his own devices. This tenacity makes him a great beer geek who I don't always fully appreciate. I just know what I like. The Aqualand Ale House benefits from his deep desire to know- funny how that happens. People are beginning to understand that we are craft beer people, and so today, during the course of a meeting at my other full time job in Wisconsin Dells, a client told me of a place in town that has the extremely hard to obtain "Game of Thrones" beer on tap. So after work my husband, (who is headed to a distributors, meet the brewers meeting tomorrow) and I ventured down to a well kept secret tavern that dabbles in craft beer, though many of their regulars are sipping Busch from a can while the special taps sit idle. The beer was cool tasty and I smiled remembering how my client had left the meeting by saying, "see you later Kalessi." I love imagining that I am the dragon girl of beer! Funny how that happened! This weekend we will participate in the Boulder Jct haunted halloween walk. I have never been a big fan of scaring or being scared, but have thrown my effort into writing the story of our haunted tableau, painting a back drop and building some creepy fish guy monster fin/hands, made with old dish washing gloves, duct tape, cheesecloth and spraypaint...I am crazy to help finish setting the scene,dipping into my secret desire to do stage sets someday. If someone had told me a year ago that owning a business in the small town of my childhood would find me making fish monster hands within a year, I would have doubted it could be so...so funny how it happened. These are just some random thoughts I am having tonight while I also think that I can hardly wait to see what funny thing will happen next...

Monday, October 7, 2013

Wine by Design

We are determined to try a wine tasting event. After a first attempt, we feel more ready this time and we are working harder to let you know about the event so you can reserve some time. With the artisan, little guy movement that is being celebrated everywhere, bringing an artisan wine event to the Aqualand Ale House seems like a good idea- a great way to offer something new and fun to our new friends and Ale House family. After being found by a wine guy who is the direct importer of a line of small batch artisanal, non-sulfite/low sulfite organic Italian wines, we are excited about the offerings we have selected. With the holiday season looming, what a great opportunity to find gift wines, celebratory wines, classics and something different, something new. Besides all this very important stuff though, I am excited because I am going to use this as a first experiment in bringing one of the skills from my other life to the Ale House- decorating! I love to theme a table, setting a mood for a special event. I confess I have spent considerable spare time all my life prowling thrift shops, antique shops auctions, garage sales and okay- yes, I have been known to be on a first name basis with a dump guy or two. I once fell into a dumpster behind Cambridge Pottery's retail shop in Cambridge, Wisconsin. You would not believe the great stuff I got though and as you can see, eventually I did get out. My favorite souvenir from our trip to Paris is a bit of bric-brac that I pulled out of a trash can as we walked along Rue de St. Germaine...I know I'm hopeless. The plan is to play around with setting the table for our wine tasting attendees- splurging into my stash of vintage table cloths (I have over 60) and candling up the joint. I may grab a thing or two from the basement, the woods and may even spelunk for a conversation piece or two in my Dad's shed, which is a treasure trove of things you may never have known you needed (what- do I hear some muttering about the apple not falling far from the tree?)...Sometime when you are in the Ale House dining room, take a look up into the dormer that faces highway K. The goofy deer mount located there is one my dad lent us and has a strangely lop-sided rack. But mostly, I love his eyes- they are blue and buggy, looking crazily at you from wherever you move in the room. You can see that he wants to rear up and can almost imagine his nostrils flare...thanks Dad!? :) The wine event, like everything involved in birthing the Aqualand Ale House, feels meant to be- I am looking forward to seeing friends and enjoying what feels like it could be more of a dinner party than a night a work. My collecting and stage setting began at a very young age. I started off building little fairy houses under the princess pine in the play forest beneath the big pines in our yard on county K near Aqualand. I spent a decent amount of time outside just waitng for Peter Pan, though I could creep myself out when I thought about what Tinker Bell would do if she found out about Peter's love for me. (Similar to his brief infatuation with Wendy, but much stronger since I already believed I lived in Never Neverland). Then as an adolescent, Mom and Dad decided that we needed a little more family togetherness and for several summers we spent evenings after supper driving down the old railroad grades, which were not yet all bermed shut in the 1960s, looking along the grade in the ditches for old treasures, bottles, crocks and who knew what else. We dug at old logging camp sites too, using the old camp maps. Once we had our destination, it was easy to discern from the grassy bump footprint of the old foundations where the kitchen dumps had been. This was where we would dig with hoes and long-handled gardening tines, working our way beneath leaves and needles to uncover bits and pieces left by a generation gone by. The other place we found goodies was actually in the latrine pits- long since cleansed by years of snow and rain, it was clear evidence of the other activity the guys participated in at the camps where alcohol was not allowed but the two-holer provided a semi-private spot to sneak a sip(yes, sip, smart alecs). It also offered a great way to dispose of the evidence of transgressions when the bottle was empty. I could be known to wander around the whole site, constantly surprised by the random and completely undamaged cast-offs that were just laying exposed in the forest. What if I bring out a few old bottles for the wine tasting- of course I have hung onto a few. We can enjoy our tasting, which we intend to compliment with chef Darren's appetizer pairings in the atmosphere decorated into a something more like home and less like business. As we head towards the season of snuggling and sipping, visiting and leisure, gifting and hugs, come and join us as we venture into this new territory of celebrating the artisan, the craftsman- the little guy! RSVP today and plan to join us on October 19th. Space is limited to a maximum of 30 for this event, so please sign up today! there will be a small cost, but we promise to pour on the special for our premiere event, which runs from 4 to 5:30 on Saturday. More details will be posted on our facebook page, in the FYI, on the radio and on our sign out front. See you soon! (and don't tell Wendy where I am okay?!)

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

Fall always reminds me of fall at Aqualand. The busy season was done and the visitors were mostly folks out to see the fall colors, special tour groups and parents with kids not old enough yet for school. My sisters and I were always the first ones on and the last ones off the school bus. We got dropped off at Aqualand, where we would pilfer a little caramel corn, (which was bagged and sold in small packs to feed the geese), maybe talk Grandpa into buying us a soda pop and just settle in to chat about the day. I remember volunteering one fall to bring in pollywogs and snails for my classroom's new aquarium. First I stopped at the Musky pond, where I knew the snails lived clinging to the rocks that lined it's rim. I stuck my hand in to scoop a few out and was startled at a swift grazing along my knuckles. Pulling my hand back quickly, I looked into the pond and straight into the eyes of a hungry muskie who must have thought my fingers looked tasty.  Wow! I had my snails and I got out of there quick. Next I headed towards the deer forest, where there were pollywogs by the swarm. This late in the season, their legs were beginning grow and they would be cool to watch as they finished their development. I skipped along the path in my special new poncho. Mom had sewn it for me along with most of the rest of my new school clothes. It was red corduroy and I wore my prized possession, a Donny Osmond Fan Club pin on the lapel. Inspired by my Mom's collection of movie star autographed photos, I had written to the Osmonds and had gotten not only an autographed photo, but this pin as well. The other extremely exciting thing about my new school outfit was that the ugly black or brown lace up corrective shoes I had always had to wear for my flat feet had been replaced this year with the latest in corrective shoe styling- the buckle version. I felt so much more with it, sophisticated and hip that year. Arriving at my destination, I crouched down at the edge of the shore, leaned forward and reached to grab a fist full of the black 'wogs that were swimming there in a group. Suddenly, I felt a push against my back, and I caught my fall by plunging my hands and about half my poncho into the pond water, dropping my catch. Something was pushing me, very hard as if to shove me head first into the chilly pond. I turned my head back and could just make out the six point buck in velvet treating my red-caped back as a thing to charge, like el torro. His rounded velvet horns were not sharp, and he hadn't taken a running start, just determinedly leaned into my exposed end. I don't know if it was the color, the stranger, though many people walked among these tame deer every day,or the low target at the edge of the pond but he was pushing against me with all his might. The only way out was to jump a few steps into the pond water and dodge around him, which I did. I ran back to the gift shop in tears, for both my poncho and my brand new shoes seemed ruined now. I don't even remember the rest of the story, other than that dad helped me go and fetch the pollywogs. But I remember that cold pond water, that red poncho and those first cool shoes. When I smell the crisp air of fall I remember the feeling of being snapped at by a muskie, pushed by a buck and the humiliation of my pride. I remember the feeling of Aqualand and all the animals as the zoo yawned before a long winter's nap. In those last weeks before shut down, I harvested.  Gathering pine cones, pretty grasses and dropped feathers was easy now that there were many less visitors to compete with.

Putting plastic on the shelves of giftwares, moving the exotic birds to warm winter quarters, shutting off the water and draining the tanks.  Lights off and Aqualand was ready for the rest of the time, the time others never saw when we still fed everyday, cleaned and watered and attended to the needs of our wildlife family.  Time was spent re-painting signs, building new enclosures, parts and pieces.  The coffee break moved to the work shop- the ultimate man cave, where neighbors stopped to sit on five gallon pails and broken spoked chairs, talking of hunting, fishing, wood gathering and football. 

Fall is beautiful isn't it?  To me it seems to be hinting towards the wild, dark night of winter in the northwoods, where people are the vulnerable ones, and the weather, wild animals and woods rule supreme. Grab at the sunny warm days, celebrate the colors, sounds, smells and tastes-  and speaking of taste, enjoy some company and the wonderful taste of fall craft beer at the new form of Aqualand where the muskies don't bite and the deer don't use you as target practice... :)

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Counting the Cost

tonight I had wine with my girlfriends for the first time since early last spring. It was such a blessing, such a wonderful reunion. It reminded me of the night last April when my husband and I sat with our close friends and wept a little as we said goodbye- knowing that everything was about to change. We knew then that we would miss the weddings of two of their sons, both like sons to us also. We would miss two other weddings, a family reunion and anything and everything that we would normally make a priority in the course of a typical summer. Family and friends have always been such a priority. But opening a business just in time for the summer season in northern Wisconsin meant a lot of sacrifices would need to be made in order to really make things go. We walked away from many things in walking towards the summer and the Aqualand Ale House. People didn't understand, people thought we were crazy. In some ways, people felt we were letting them down. Our unavailability for certain times and certain things meant that some would question us, some would feel short changed. But we discovered some wonderful things this summer. Those who love us best came to visit, sitting patiently when we jumped up from even a short conversation to take care of the thing we saw that needed to be done. They cheered us on, took a trip to an area that would not normally be on their radar. These friends were the wind beneath our wings (yes, hummingthe song a bit as I type). Our staff became our friends. We looked out for each other, cared for each other and knew that someone had our back no matter what each busy day might bring. By summer's end we were a well-oiled machine of service. But by far, the best surprise were the loyal friends we made of so many of our guests. By Labor Day weekend I was overwhelmed to realize I recognized so many- as people entered the Ale House so many remembered my name and entered waving, "Hi Sue", as they joined us for a meal and a beer. I met old friends of the family, family members of locals whose families had been friends to my father and mother, my grandfather. I loved hearing people share their memories of Aqualand. I loved even more when folks asked after my parents, my sisters. But when I overheard someone mention "Pat Wilsie" I always stopped to shake their hand. These were the ones who personally knew my grandfather, and since he passed away in 1977, I knew this was a special memory that I wanted to hear more about. We opened the Aqualand Ale House for several reasons. On the one hand, Dick needed a business to run as had always been his dream. On the other hand, I needed to get a bigger footprint in the North Woods, from whence my strength has always come. Our interest in and love for the craft beer industry was just a piece of a bigger picture of our strong belief in the cultural significance of the small businesses and the artisan crafts. As the big guys gobble up small towns, there is a growing surge of support for the anti- big guys, and we hope to be chief among these. We hope to bring jobs to this small, tourist focused town. We hope to give visitors another reason to come and to stay in Boulder Jct for a day or a weekend just like Grandpa did so many years ago when he opened the original Aqualand. Moving into the fall and winter season, we hope to be a light in the darkness of winter, encouraging folks to know that within our walls are warm friendship, warm food and warm hearts. No one needs to fear being ignored for we are all in this together. We hope the winter brings music, conversation, laughter and community. Winter can be long in northern Wisconsin so lets stick together. Every book club, ladies night out, holiday party, birthday party, celebration amongst friends, business lunch or dinner will be wlecome. Bring your friend and your cribbage board and stay the evening with us- I will play the winner... :) Cheer on the Packers, order ahead and we will make sure your favorites are on hand. We plan to bring in our old tinny piano, so if you play piano, sing or something else and just want to share the night, you are welcome to put out the jar. We hope we become a light in the darkness, a friend in the cold, a reason to get and celebrate whatever the season brings. We love you all-we have your back and we feel very blessed to have found each and every one of you!

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Bittersweet

Labor Day weekend symbolized many things for me at the Aqualand Ale House. My husband, the main thrust behind the Aqualand Ale House since it's opening in May, took his first weekend off to attend an annual Army buddies reunion. This meant our son Dan and I had to be on duty to resolve every issue that the holiday Thursday through Sunday might hold. The biggest changing of the guard this weekend was saying goodbye, good wishes and much love, to our remaining student staff members and to our awesome chef John, who is headed onward towards his dream of a four year hospitality degree this fall at UW Stout- our own alma mater. We welcome some great new faces, but cannot help but look backwards to those who helped us birth this baby known as the Aqualand Ale House. Like soldiers in the trenches during time of war become very close very quickly, we have become fast friends and family with our original cast of characters. It has been a successful summer- we are humbled by all our many new friends. I quickly noticed this weekend how many of the faces are familiar to me now. A wave and a nod, a "heh" and "how are you", were as commonplace this weekend as initial conversations and new acquaintances. Many of our new friends were disappointed that they would not get a chance to say goodbye to my husband before heading south for the winter, or, in the case of many camp counselors, back to school and on to other lives. By Sunday I carried with me many names, notes and good wishes to pass on to my pony-tailed prince when he came home. Our staff had said early goodbyes to him, but it was bittersweet to be his proxy in those last minutes, during the last glances, hugs and stray moments where we all had "something in our eye". We had opted to be closed on Labor Day proper, and my son and I drove home late after closing so that I could have a true day off with my just returned spouse- a day that would be the sum total of our personal summer vacation. Monday was spent visiting some other folks taps, trying some other friends food, and napping, hot tubbing, napping again and sitting together on our porch swing for the first time of this most busy summer of our lives, recapping the highlights of our new life. This morning, fall could be sensed in the air. A cooler night was followed by a cool day. While I couldn't do it this weekend, today we definitely saw that it was time to tap Oktoberfest- at least one of the three specials that my husband has already gathered in addition to Pumpkin Ale and Dead Guy Ale- all fantastic treats for our very first Colorama season. I found myself looking forward; full of energy for planning a special fall event. Our kick off and the first of what we hope will be regular tasting events. A Chilean wine tasting we are planning for September 12th was the catalyst for a new Pinterest page full of decorating ideas, invitations and props. I love the fall in Northern Wisconsin- I love Boulder Jct and I love decorating for a party. I think that for this first special event with our new staff and a new season, I will choose to decorate with bittersweet- as a nod to those who we know we will miss who are off to new or other places,as a symbol of this season of harvest, and to be an early bit of orange inspired by the turning of the maples, oaks and tamarack. I hope those of you who travel north regularly, those who call the north home and those who are planning your very first trip will grab your flannel and come raise a glass with us from 5:30 to 7:00 pm on Thursday, September 12th. My husband and sons will post official invitations and notices within the next few days, but I just cannot contain myself- I am excited to try some new events and so I am spilling the news early- We need to have you RSVP for this one, so we know how much wine and snacks to have on hand. If you want a seat at the table, which will be under the canopy of the breezeway between the Ale House and Frog House, which will be embellished with little white lights and deck heaters, a fire bowl, miscellaneous decorations and some very good wine, let me know- I would love to have the table filled with friends before my husband can even blink an eye! A bittersweet season, maybe, but still there is nothing better than Northwoods air when it begins to bite and the harvest moon peeks pregnantly atop the pines. Come toast it with us- Please say you will!

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

drag race to snail's pace

It has been a while since I have posted. I knew there was a storm coming, I knew that all of you were coming, and you did. Ths last month has been one of rapid acceleration of our business, both in terms of customers and responsibilities. As we have found both ourselves and our staff completely overwhelmed at times, we have also been asked over and over in the last month, "Please tell me will you stay open this winter?" Peppered in between this question is as always the fond, fond stories of Aqualand memories the rare soul who remembers Uncle Pat- my grandfather. Through the drag race, I have grown in respect for servers and restauranteurs everywhere. I wonder if the average customer understands how incredibly difficult it is to put on a smile and try your very best to give them the very best experience you can, in flavors, atmosphere and friendship day after day while the line gets longer and the kids get rowdier. Inevitably something goes wrong, as it will no matter how hard you try to think of everything and no matter how hard you try to police details behind the scene. You feel personally crushed, you appologize and do your best to make things right. In our busiest and best month, we also got our first down-ticked rating ruining our perfect Yelp Score, (though I am pretty sure if enough friends rate us well, that can be overcome). It has been so quirky. I have had people ask me why we charge so much for our beer, and why don't we offer fried food? Then the very next guy thanks me for the quality of our beer and our fresh ingedient, uniquely flavored meals. What a crazy roller coaster- highest of highs and lowest of lows. The failures make us determined to try harder, the successes make us determined to get more of the same. Another thing I have discovered is that there is a zone that you access when the place is humming. There is an energy of souls that when combined create a warmth like none other- and this seems to happen every day. There is a joy in the experience of tasting a great craft beer that feels like you have been on this quest, crossing the desert and mountain in search of that unique brewing story. Then you found out a little-known and totally obscure mad beer scientist sent a keg of nirvana to the Aqualand Ale House and you just found it. You turn to the folk at the next stools and advise them to try it too and wait for the cheer as everyone smiles together in the joy of a shared moment of flavor discovery. We have tried to provide that in both our menu and our beer. I think from what the majority of you say, we are providing that for you. But fall is coming. The pace of business is slowing, and we wonder what is wise- where to go next. As we watch the snails pace come, we have determined that we will continue to try to drill into that very special, very unique brew. We may need to do more private "beer runs" to the brewers that as so small they don't have formal distribution. We will have to coax our distributors to give us the limited stock of the most unusual, and the best small batch stuff on their list. This weekend is our first experiment in testing our fall model. We will offer four Founder's Beers on tap on Saturday, in an atmosphere complimented by live music and food specials. Representatives for the Founder's brand will be on hand to answer your questions and tell their story. Most importantly, there is a super special, limited batch keg that will be tapped- the only one of it's kind in the entire north woods region. It is our hope that each weekend this fall and winter we can do the same- something special, something unique that will be an experience to share together. I have a feeling that we will become a micro- society in Boulder Junction this fall. A support group, a gathering of friends united to celebrate the little guys, the artisans, the craftsmen of food and beverage. We are working through the plans for a special addition to our kitchen. Already purchased, the wood-fired oven that we have been storing all summer is ready to be installed before the snow flies. We have set a goal of have this cooking option for new menu items consisting of hot, hearty winter fare to satisfy the local and visiting cold, lonely, hungry and thirsty. Our fireplace will be lit for the first time Labor Day weekend- our beer garden work will begin as well and though we don't expect this to be fully constructed until next summer, we hope to add a gas fired open flame fire pit this fall and we expect to have some special outdoor winter events as well. There are all those great winter beers to be tried as we don our flannels, Stormy Kromer hats and Joan of Ark sorrels. We just found a groove and now we are finding out it is time to switch speeds. It is our goal to help you stop and enjoy the slower journey with us- here's to quieter, deeper days, more extremes of hot and cold, dark and light, and most importantly, here's to friends who will be on the journey with us!

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Day Dreaming...

One of the most interesting things about starting the Aqualand Ale House is seeing the differences in who we thought we would be and who we are becoming.
We thought that we would draw a craft beer enthusiast that may want to have some supper while they enjoy a brew.  Thanks to Chef John and his kitchen staff, we have instead become a destination for a great fresh ingredients meal also.  We are finding that our customer enjoys a great atmosphere, thanks to the architecture of the original building and the tweaking of the interior that my training and experience in my other work has given me the ability to pull together. I think artisan craft and microbrew all come to mind when describing us, but we have become so much more than that. 

I think this is a double edged sword.  While we love the reputation that we are quickly gaining with foodies, we don't want to lose sight of the core message that the best of the craft beers can be sampled on a daily basis- on temperature and fresh.  We want to make the art of craft and the message of the little guy central to an experiential sampling of great flavors.

As we complete our first year at high season, we are already day dreaming about what comes next.  We know for sure there will be a beer garden by the time we open in the spring-  exactly what that means is in process, but we have plans....We designed our model around a specialty oven, but ran out of time to expedite the project of building it in.  This too will be a focus during the quieter season of fall.

Beyond that, we are playing the, "Where do we see ourselves in 5 years" game.  We have always set goals as a couple, as a family and now as small business owners, it only makes sense to evaluate our goals in the same way.  The rules to this process are, 1. Express your deepest day dreams-  nothing is off the table; 2. Throw out lots of ideas, the notion here is that you are looking for possibilities, not limiting anything- including expectations. 3. Listen well to each other regardless of how ridiculous the other's ideas may sound at first blush- I cannot tell you how often my husband's hair-brained ideas have been exactly where we have found our path leading. 4. Close your eyes and imagine a day in that life then decide how that feels vs. how another five year away life feels. 5. Write everything down and say a prayer. Step away for a while and then come back and discuss any new thoughts that have come to you in to exercise of processing all the ideas just thrown around. 
6. Re-visit and break the same process down in a 3 year span, then a 1 year span.
7. Write one year actions that move in the directions of the 3 and 5 year goals, recognizing that you cannot move up the clock, but you can move firmly in a specific direction.

We love finding our written lists from the past years.  It gives us a chance to look back and see where we thought we were going vs. where we actually went.

The Aqualand Ale House is a baby, but we are day dreaming already about where we will be going next. 

Keep watching and stay tuned.  One thing we don't do is settle. Another thing we do not know is how to stop moving forward. Step one has been so great, so many people have offered helpful suggestions and ideas on things we can add to enhance the experience further.  We know this is because everyone wants us to succeed. It has been a great first season and we look forward to a great next step in the adventure.

Thanks All! 

Monday, July 15, 2013

Free-Range Husband

Recently, one of my best pals from high school stopped by the ale house.  We had re-connected on facebook and had caught up on lots of family history via this social media opportunity.  But of all the things I had posted, Mac remembered me referring to my husband as a “free-range” husband as my stand-out comment.  He shook my husband’s hand and told us he wants to be a free-range husband too.
Just last weekend, my husband explained to a group of our friends that he finds playing it safe to be a false goal.  Risk and reward go hand in hand.   His philosophy and faith challenge him to stretch us and always be ready to be challenged.  Opening the Aqualand Ale House in northern Wisconsin is an extreme risk.
I wonder sometimes if he had known then what he knows now, if he would change anything.  This endeavor has certainly been the most challenging thing we have ever done, to include two years of separation while he risked all in a war zone thousands of miles away.  I have hinted in previous blogs that there are many stories we could tell.  Let me just say as I give you a glimpse- we are now VERY stretchy!
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger right?  Well, we are also particularly strong now.  The power has gone out four times, always when we were open and serving- the issues everything from a lighting strike to stressing the capacity during hot humid and peak service times.  The septic had to be upgraded immediately rather than staging our upgrades the way we had discussed with the state. Several key pieces of kitchen equipment have leaked, broken down or been non-functioning.   Thank goodness the power was already out the night the big brown bat found his way in an open doorway….Mr. Military is not so good with bats, so I grabbed the broom and our bartender’s dad and I helped him find his way back outside.  Our credit cards are run via internet.  Well, every time the power goes out, the server has to be re-set, not an easy task and the first two times we didn’t recognize the issue until it was time to help someone pay their bill.  It was one of the many moments we were crying for the help of our techno-sons. 
Having never scheduled staff, we did not initially realize that this would truly be the most challenging weekly task.  Many weeks I would be left feeling that in trying to make everyone ok, no one was ok.  Everyone’s needs and life schedules are a puzzle, and since most of our staff work part time, they all have other job or jobs to work around as well.  I will say this- I am very impressed with the enterprising attitude of our college and high school workers.  No one can accuse our young adults of being lazy that’s for sure!
I entitled this post Free- Range husband.  And this is what I want to close with.  My husband comes from  a modest, hardworking ,faith-based south western Wisconsin agricultural family.  He has always shared the story of his very first visit to Boulder Jct as a journey into a fantasy kingdom.  The icing on his cake during that first visit was the newborn fawn in my parent’s kitchen as was so often the case in our zoo family home.
He never knew my paternal grandfather, who passed away when I was a teenager, but he has admired the courage and tenacity and slight craziness of my family’s story.  For him, to be able to celebrate and pay homage to Aqualand’s history as part of our new venture means absolutely everything.  His respect for my family and their courage is evident in everything he hopes to emulate.  I love my husband so and love him more than ever for loving Boulder Jct as much as I do. 
In a piece I once wrote about my husband’s office guy career prior to his deployments overseas, I referred to his office/officer life as “death by cubicle”.  The chaotic, messy and challenging life of a small business owner suits his free ranging nature so much better.
We are risking everything, trusting God and flinging our arms wide.  No matter what happens, we will never be accused of being safe or boring.  People ask if we will ever brew our own beer.  I have to tell you, I see that crazy, rogue-elemental glint in my husband’s eye as he says, “not yet”, and know that we are not done stretching yet…and as I shiver a little in fear I find myself also wondering if Mac wants to become a brewmaster?!

Saturday, July 6, 2013

Hair on Fire!

We are screaming along now!  Busy, busy busy and thankful to be so!  There are so many folks who want to know whatever posessed us, two people with no food service industry to speak of, opening a business in a scary, risky part of the country-Northern, Wisconsin.  Frankly speaking, there are days when we want to know what possessed us too.

I could regale you with the stories of all of the adventures and mis-adventures to date, but I am guessing you can only imagine. 

There real story though, lies with people.  Our staff-  tenatious, determined and loyal.  We are humbled by their willingness to lay it all out there to help us succeed.  there is no way on earth we could do this without them.  It is our goal to relieve the extra stress and burden they have each shouldered so that they can enjoy every minute of the day with us.  Everyone gets along so well here.  That is virtually unheard of when working with different people from different places in a high stress environment.  When we get to flying through a busy night, we can still find time to tease and laugh a bit.  The chef and his staff in particular find a way to enjoy the hot, tiny kitchen and produce fabulous food that has built a name for us in just a few short weeks.

Our bartenders enjoy people, their stories and sharing the experience of really, really good beer.  Nothing thrills us all more than to create a new beer snob! 

The wait staff are superheros.  Two people handling a crowd like ours is never easy, but they manage to do it with style and grace.  I am amazed that there have not been any missteps- well, unless the novices like me are trying to lend a hand, but even then people are gracious and forgiving when I forget to re-fill a glass or forget to bring the ticket, for some reason my two biggest airhead moves.

But my husband has amazed me the most of all.  His move from career military man to long-haired host is a tranformation that has to be seen to be believed.  He loves to share his knowledge of craft beer with each and every guest and also loves to hear everyone's story.  "Where are you from?  How was your beer/meal?".  He wants to know.   I don't think anyone sneaks in and out without his thoughtful conversation.  There are times when he is very hard on himself for little things, times when he forgets the detail in the fast pace of the moment.  But to me, his gift of hospitality is anchored in his love for people and love for craft beer.

We need more help-  a few more partners in our journey.  We would love to have live music or other entertainment....so many ideas yet to be developed.  But today, I am feeling blessed.  People come more than once-  which tells us we are doing okay. 

Though we race through many days with our hair on fire, we are happy.  The future is bright and we hope to see you soon!

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

You CAN come home again!

Good news folks- You CAN come home again!  In the weeks since we opened our doors, I have re-introduced myself to many old friends, neighbors, former peers and Aqualand employees.  I have met many second home owners whose families have been summer residents since my grandfather's era. 

Dick and I have made so many new friends.  It has been such a blessing to see folks come in, then come back  in with neighbors, family and friends. 

Our musky and walley flights have been a big hit.  Some of our new friends have come every weekend to work their way through all twenty taps.  The taps have all turned over and there have not been any duds in the bunch, confirming our belief that craft beer followers enjoy the journey of "tasting", rather than sticking with just one brew.

People ask us how things are going, what is it like to open a business like this with little background in the industry.  I think I can speak for both of us in saying, "Exciting, terrifying, chaotic, thrilling, the highest of highs and the nearly heart stoppingly low and unexpected moments". When the transformer across the street was first hit by lightning and then just blew on it's own two weeks later, we despaired to watch our weekend visitors dejectedly turn around to leave as we sat there in the dark....Nearly every piece of equipment has exposed it's quirks.  buying used pieces saved allot of money, but also gave us introduction to the wild ride of maintenance.

There are to do lists in every area from menu and marketing to garbage and lawn care.

I am excited to open the Frog House sometime in the next two weeks-  my own dream of shop ownership is the second side of our long term plan.  I can already see my little book shop area.  I am going to call it "Georgie's Window" after my local hero, Sunday School Teacher and mentor Aunt Georgie, whose book reading was legend.  I would guess that she gifted my sisters and I with more books than anyone other than perhaps our Mom, who also received many, many books from her friend Georgie.  Maybe no one will think to buy books from an artisan snack, beer and wine shop, but I cannot imagine having a shop in Boulder Jct without them.  Something about the northwoods makes me expect everyone will want to take time out to relax, re-create themselves and read.

I cannot remember the last full night's sleep for either my husband or I.  He just came home to pick up the desk and a few other things for our office set up, which has been deferred while the most important areas got done first.  It was the first time he had been home- home since early April.  We have not sat down to eat a meal together earlier than 11 pm in a very long time. 

Dreams are not easy, and we have learned that they are not birthed without allot of sacrifice and pain.  But our dream of owning a business in Boulder Jct, the home town I have longed to return to for many years is coming true.  I am thrilled to discover that everything I hoped and imagined it would feel like is truly what it can be.  I am humbled by the welcome that confirms to us that you CAN come home again.

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

The Aqualand Ale House opened it's doors last weekend.  Our grown sons, our daughter-in-law, grandson beside us.  Our first guests seemed to enjoy themselves, our chaos was mostly hidden from view, and by day three we began to feel our stride.  but for me, one of the big highlights that first night was watching my Mom and Dad as people shared with them their memories from Aqualand, recognizing them as the celebrities in the room who had made it all a reality.

The journey to this day has been challenging, but in that moment, it was all worth while.  Later, as I watched my husband in his element, guiding folks to the craft beer he felt they may enjoy most, explaining each brew type, it's features and story, It made it all worth it again.

On the third day, as a couple asked me to walk them through all the photos, they shared with me that they went to Aqualand on their honeymoon, and for years after made it a yearly pilgrimage that celebrated one of the sweet memories within their marriage.

The past will always be honored at the Aqualand Ale House, but we are excited to move on into the future.

We have been humbled by the people who showed such amazing support.  I think of the Altschwagers from White Birch Village, allowing us to utilize one of their winterized cabins as our winter home; my grade school classmate Judy- the only other girl in our grade at the tiny Plum Lake Grade School and her husband Grant, who just showed up during crunch time and said simply, "we know how it is, put us to work"; My sister Becky and her husband Ty who watched over things and saved us when we were headed for bad ideas, who fed us dinner when we had worked until dark and forgot to plan our own; my parents, who advised and guided us from their years of experience in running first a resort and then Aqualand as business owners and entrepeneurs;  Dad's hours spent re-caning the backs and cutting out new seats for all the chairs and stools in the place; Our son Perry and his wife Stacie, who designed our logo, helped us plan, built our website and internet presence, designed the menus, pos system and all things electronic; Dan, our younger son, who worked right along side us for weeks, putting his own life on hold to be there when we most needed a hand, and who has also contributed his artistic and design skills in our photo art throughout the building.  His practical common sense acted as a sounding board when the choices were too many and the details too great; Kurt and Cherie, who travelled all the way from Minneapolis to check out our equipment and then who served as designers and advisors in laying out a working plan for our miniscule kitchen.

So many more wonderful people who gave advice, reviewed our layouts, lists, menus and lent a hand.  Our new neighbor Todd who lent his forklift and then his storage space to hold equipment in transition for us; Mike who swiped through with his plow on a snowy day, refusing payment; the Community Church, who rescued our friends a family day when the kitchen equipment would not function and friends and family were already enroute; The people of Boulder Jct for being so welcoming and encouraging- we hope to make you proud; Bill and Mark at Tribute Brewery in Eagle River and Mark at Forest Lake Country Store- we look forward to many coordinated events in the future.

Finally, we feel very blessed to have gathered the most awesome staff.  Our talented young chef John, who is passionate about making everything from scratch; Melissa, our bookkeeper/manager/prep cook and sounding board- yeah, sort of superwoman; Lisa, our head server who brings years of experience and wisdom in an area where our experience is limited at best; Christopher our bar tender, whose calming presence holds us together even under stress.  We are thrilled with our super-servers Kat, Taylor, Taylor, Miranda and Katie-  thank you all for being willing to do the dance with us as we find our rhythm.  Gabby and Vaun, our high school workers who have been willing souls, helping in and out of the kitchen and doing whatever task is asked or them.

We love our tenantts Ben and Tim.  Their patience with our disruption as we prepared for opening has been amazing.

Every new business is launched from hopes and dreams.  Ours has been further launched by support and care-  We hope to serve you for many years to come.  Thank you and we love you all!



Sunday, April 28, 2013

The other photo...

A number of years ago, a local artist was commissioned to paint a portrait of a group of fishing guides conducting a shore lunch.  The painting was re-produced into one of the northwood's more famous prints, and there are a few that know it's secret. Some of the faces and names were changed. Bent over the fire adding something to the pan was a humble, quiet young man in the original group photo who was later replaced with another fellow deemed more, "one of the guys", by the person requesting the commission for the painting.
 
That quiet young man was my dad, and over the years I have wondered how it must feel to be the famous guy no one knows....

It has been an old locals  secret.  When we see the print, we grin a private grin knowing...that quiet young man dodged fame and went fishing...

Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Taking the Plunge

What made us take the jump from day-dreaming of how neato it would be to own our own business into the crazy madness of actually starting one?

First it is important to state that Dick and I have never started a business together before.  Years of study and years of working for the government in Dick's case, and various design firms in mine, has given us lots of chances to see what we do and do not like in our work.  We have had good bosses and bad bosses, stress and ease.

We have also enjoyed working together on projects.  Some families are recreational, some are social, some are plugged into cyber-life.  Dick and I, along with our boys, are project people.  Always distracted by some great next thing that we can build or make, learn about, volunteer for, get involved in, take charge of, help with etc.

But through it all, we have enjoyed most when we are shoulder to shoulder in whatever it is we jump into.  The process of building the concept for the Aqualand Ale House and the Frog House Shop has been such a learning process for all of us-  Dick and I, our sons Dan and Perry and our married into-us -daughter Stacie.  Step by step we have been focused, chaotic, determined and hopeless, depending upon the day.

Dick has discovered the thrill of the hunt-  on-line equpiment auctions have been his best friend and sometimes worst compulsion, but overall we have benefitted from his prowess.  I second guess his bids- challenging his logistics officer training at every turn.

I have been pushing and prodding and sometime dragging him along with my design ideas for the remodeling of the spaces.  It like-wise cracks me up how I am trusted by major clientelle with the biggest of projects, but my husband is always at ease pushing me to defend my ideas.  I am able to take commentary from my clients, but commentary from him is so much harder.

I am a hide it- sorter, wanting filing systems and order.  My husband is a stacker/piler and a visual organizer.  If he can't see it, he can't keep track of it.  We have each carved out complimentary tasks in our marriage, but are finding in a business all boundaries are soft.  We each need to back fill every position held by the other. 

I have been known to salute him in  what we call, "the international symbol of friendship" fashion, and he has been known to spank....but enough about that.

There has been a cost to our close circle relationships.  Some are pretty sure we are nuts, but they support us.  We have sadly lost contact with everyone who hasn't volunteered to hold a paint brush. Working 80 plus hours a week hasn't left us any space for dinners, parties, baby showers, weddings and even a few funerals.  I am a book club drop out- which makes me very sad.  There are a few people who do not support us, who have dropped us, which also breaks our hearts.

There is a cost to every big decision.  We knew that going in.  But we feel very sure that our live's destiny lies up north, our future is in owning our own place, and  Aqualand Ale House and Frog House Shop is that place.

We are getting ready for our chance to care for our guests, celebrate a memory, and explore an experience of artisan craftsmanship in food, drink and gift, all  in the heart of the north woods.

We have taken the plunge, and have felt the chill and scald of it by turn.  At the end of the day, we won't have to ask ourselves, "what- if", because we will have found out the answer to what happens when we "go for it".


Sunday, April 7, 2013

The Traveling Muskies of Boulder Jct.


One of the old promotional photos of the local residents with live muskies that would become part of the "Traveling Muskies of Boulder Jct" exhibit that was taken to the sport shows to promote both Boulder Jct and Musky Capital of the World.  My dad- Bruce, is the young man kneeling at the far right with a baseball style cap on.  There are lots of familiar faces in this picture aren't there?!
I am told that my memories of Aqualand are the color of my childhood. Bright with sunshine and always rose-colored. But after Aqualand, the pride of my childhood years is the quality of the north woods people. As I have traveled away, lived in many places, I am amazed that there is a mistaken notion that the people of the north woods are hicks, rednecks, and somehow special in that "not so bright", "not the sharpest knife in the drawer" sort of way. Those of us born in the woods know a different truth. The people who live in Northern Wisconsin are in the woods because the choose it, because they find in it value that less observant might not see. It takes strength, wit and sacrifice to stay. Above all else, it takes the ability to make peace with the voices within. Living at times in the city, I observed that the hustle, bustle and busyness provides a way to escape oneself. Hurry and worry and distraction give the opportunity to remain blissfully unaware if unaware is the way one wants to be. You cannot avoid yourself in the woods. The positive side of this is, you can hear yourself think. The woods holds tight to the poeple who wish to know themselves well. Visitors who come, come back again and again because the special draw. Like drinking water from a cold mountain stream, the refreshment is unlike any other. A retreat of self-discovery can happen in a very short amount of time while sitting with a fishing pole, walking in the woods or biking along a lakeshore trail. The real truth about the northwoods people is that they have taken the time to know themselves well. They have often moved through the world and chosen to return home. Some of them have been among the strongest successes in the business world, some have been wounded by careless mis-treatment of the unappreciative in their past, but all know why they are returning. I have never been able to call another place home. Though my place has been at my husband's side for thirty years of military career travel, whenever people ask me where home is, the answer has always come easily- the northwoods of Wisconsin. I tell people I am earning my right to come home. I truly believe that to be the case, and two years ago my husband Dick and I began the shift. Starting with a "not so big" cabin in the woods, we are now on to the hair-raising risk of a northwoods business. The Aqualand Ale House is a dream come true for both of us. This long, snowy winter in the north has been my husband's first opportunity to really see what I have always known. There is beauty in the solitude and peace in the quiet. A white north woods winter is sunnier and brighter, far more beautiful than the winters farther south. I am so happy that my soul mate has embraced the woods I love. I am looking forward to meeting all the residents of Boulder Junction who do not know me, those who have made a full or part time home in my home town in the thirty plus years that I have been away. My husband is enjoying meeting my old friends and making new ones. We long to earn your trust as we join the community of the north woods.

Sunday, March 17, 2013

Sam and Sara

I have been talking with my folks allot about their memories of the Aqualand years. I asked them what one of their favorite stories might be. Mom grinned at Dad and said she always loved the wild geese pair. I sort of, slightly remembered something, but could not piece together a clear memory, so asked them to tell the story. Each spring my family would watch for Sam and Sara. Sam and Sara were a mating pair of wild Canada geese. Early in May, Sam and Sara would fly over Aqualand, circling several times lower and lower as if to inspect the place and confirm for themselves that everything was as it should be. Then they moved on out of site. But my father knew where they were headed. The ponds at Aqualand we a flowing series of inter-connected water that flowed from the three lake chain of Irving, Ballard and White Birch lakes. Once through Aqualand, the water continued on through Bob's Lake, fondly called "The Puddle" by our family, and then ran out the far side as White Birch Creek, which would flow all the way to White Sand Lake about three miles down the road. Dad knew that Sam and Sara would head to Irving, the farthest of the three lake chain, where the process of nesting took place- always in the same place and about the same time. In several weeks later, in early summer, excitement would build when Sam and Sara and young ones would begin their journey. Fishermen and the guests at nearby White Birch Lodge would notify us at Aqualand, "Sam and Sara are coming!", as they headed to their "summer place" among the safe ponds and abundant cracked corn of Aqualand. They would herd their brood across all three lakes, down the short stem of White Birch Creek before it spilled into Aqualand, and, having kept informed of their progress, my father would head out to stop any traffic on county K after opening Aqualand's gate, located across the road from the creek. Dad's escort provided safe passage for Sam, Sara and their little ones. Sam and Sara and babies would summer with us, tame and friendly with visitors. But when the winds began to blow each fall, they would get restless, teaching the children to fly bit by bit. Watching as their lurching paddle-running across the ponds soon become short bursts of flight, we knew they would soon be off. One Day, they would magically be airborne. Circling low, then progressively higher, Sam and Sara seemed to wave goodbye, driven by instinct to migrate south. Mom and Dad would watch wistfully, half wishing they could fly away too as the winds blew cold and the snow began to flutter with the still falling leaves. For many years, this ritual of spring continued. Even after Sam and Sara were surely gone, there were always a few wild geese that would land and settle in at Aqualand, becoming a part of our family just for the summer season. I am sure they were the offsrping, born on Irving to Sam and Sara, drawn by instinct back to where they subsequently grew and were safe, warm and well fed until they could fly away each fall. Many animals called Aqualand home and a few, like Sam and Sara chose us. Though they were free to come and go as they wished, they chose us- a testimony to the love and care they trusted to find within the park known as Aqualand.

Friday, March 8, 2013

Why The Aqualand Ale House?

People who know us have asked this question. There are really just two reasons. Love and War. My husband Dick is a career military man, retiring in late 2011 with over 35 years of service. Beginning his military career as a "barely" high school graduate, better known for his crazy motorcycle riding than his academics, Dick finished as a senior field grade officer with an MBA. As was the case for so many others, 9/11 marked the beginning of a shift in our priorities. Preparing for the first of three year-long missions, the first to Nicaragua and the last two to Afghanistan, we were suddenly aware of how fragile life can be. There was a tugging that began in that shocking event. I had always longed to moved "home" back to Boulder Jct, to be near my parents and to listen to the quiet that is never empty- the sound of the woods. So for me, I started to long more fervently. For my husband, he began to consider what would come next, once his military life was done. His motto of "never get comfortable" meant that he would not just retire and porch sit. Jobs in the military nearly always send people into retirement before they are old enough to long for that. In the next few years during endless hours of self contemplation available to a soldier far from home, Dick began to delve into what was possible. There were two things that rose to the top, he desired to have a place in the sun, a place in a foreign country to go to, to be warm and to diversify investments. Second, Dick knew he wanted to control his own destiny- business ownership. He didn't know what business, but had the desire to have a business that he could run in such a way that he could become a part of the community around him, hiring young adults, mentoring, meeting needs, helping and building something for his sons. It took ten years, but in summer of 2012, we finally found a property and a business that would fit both of us. To own a small business in Boulder Jct would draw me home and to go into a business where we could promote our interests and hobbies would give us an endless opportunity. We knew a craft beer venue with fresh, homey foods, baked goods, casseroles, fine cheeses, pretzels and sausages would be a great fit for our interests and seemed to be an area of opportunity in Boulder Jct. The Frog House retail shop would extend the opportunity for customers to shop for the same great things to take home with them as well. Once we knew we had a business, the question of what to name the business came next. There was one thing we knew for sure- among many of our generation, there was a fond memory of Aqualand and it's attachment to out childhoods. We talked to my parents- the owners of the name and asked what they thought. Bringing back to life the name Aqualand, using the photos and memorabilia as decor, and selling logo items, they thought this idea would be fine and would be fun for them too. As a dabbling writer, I discussed with my sisters the thought that we should write a book to tell the story- the story of one generation's Narnia. It is my hope that sometime this summer, a small volume will be available in the Frog House Gifts. I loved Aqualand, loved my very special childhood, love my family and love the northwoods from whence I came. My husband loves me, loves craft beer and desires to start a business for our family and to be part of the community. So that is how the Aqualand Ale House was born; Born as I said at the beginning- through Love and war.

Thursday, February 28, 2013

magazine article from the premier issue of 'Our Wisconsin"

My Sweet Memories of Aqualand This daughter of a zoo-keeping family recalls her growing-up years at one of Wisconsin’s most popular--and beloved--summer tourist attractions. As a little girl, the first time I saw a newborn baby, I tried to scratch the boy behind his ears. Being raised in a zoo taught me very young how much animal babies liked a little help scratching that hard-to-reach place, so I thought human babies would appreciate it too. My family created Aqualand, a northern-Wisconsin tourist park and petting zoo. It ceased operations some years ago, but at its height in the 1960s, Aqualand drew as many as 72,000 visitors per summer. Even now, people I meet all over Wisconsin are in awe when they hear I was part of the Aqualand legend. It entertained generations of people and for 45 years was a keystone of countless families’ summer vacations to the Star Lake/Boulder Junction area. My husband, Dick, well remembers coming home from college with me for the first time while we were dating. We laugh as he tells people his surprise at finding a forest of cardboard boxes in the kitchen--each housing a baby animal of some sort, and all of them waiting to be cuddled, fed and, of course, scratched a little bit behind the ears. Founded by my granddad, Pat Wilsie, and carried on by my folks, Bruce and Jody Wilsie, Aqualand was established in the boom era of Northwoods summer tourism in the lat 1940s. World War II was over, people with more disposable income were relaxing in to family life... and that included summer vacations. The most popular family car of the time was the station wagon, and Wisconsin’s Northwoods was a favorite destination for it. Vacationers Flocked North The overwhelming popularity of Aqualand is evidenced by old photos of cars lining the roads after the parking lot filled. Dad, who also worked as a fishing guide, recalls returning home one day to find the parking lot so packed that 104 vehicles were parked along old narrow Highway K. Highlights everyone still remembers are rows of giant fish tanks with portholes that allowed visitors to see native fish swimming, up close and personal. There was a muskie pond where purchased frogs could be tossed into the water. Watching several hungry muskies simultaneously surface for a snack was a sight no one forgot. The otter pools were mobbed with spectators as these mammal’s playful antics gave everyone a smile. Smart-aleck goats would cross the suspended swinging bridge to stand on a platform and use their mouths to hoist a bucket of corn on a rope, which traveled upward via pulleys. My personal highlight was watching the teenage boys who worked during summers at the zoo, as they attempted to cross that swinging bridge on a dare. None were as sure-footed as those goats! Bears Chugged “Bruin Brew” Everyone recalls feeding the bears “Bruin Brew,” a colored punch made for us at the local soda bottling plant. Younger visitors remember bottle-feeding newborn fawns in the nursery. Countless cute snapshot opportunities were everywhere you looked, and these photos now reside as sweet mementos in so many family albums. Just recently, I located a vintage video of Aqualand from 1970. Someone had saved it to a website that publishes home movies. This 5-minute family video featured one of our goats crossing the old bridge. As a kid, I would never have dreamed that watching that tough old goat strutting his stuff would one day make me cry. I remember our pet timber wolf Dakota, how gentle and loyal he was with us as children. I remember Mo, my self-proclaimed personal pet cougar; the soft pads of his paws that never clawed, never hurt. He knew I was weaker and he knew I loved him. Little Smith, the baby raccoon that rode on my shoulder until the day he decided to see what my earlobe tasted like... Yes, I remember Aqualand, as so many people do. It was magic... it was my home.

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Remembering Jim

I just got word tonight that a former classmate and former Aqualand employee has passed away unexpectedly. Jim was always so full of life. There were about six or seven of us, all teens, all classmates who worked together at Aqualand during my high school years. But it was the time that Jeff, Jerry, Jim and I worked out on the grounds crew together that really stands out to me. Those boys had such a way of making hard work fun. In the midst of it all there was rough housing, practical joking and my personal favorite-the dare. We would get 50 gallon barrels of waste cookies from the "Rippin Good" Cookie factory near my great uncle's farm in Ripon. When the cookie frosting machines gummed up they scraped the whole works into barrels for us and we then used them to coax the bigger carnivores into their dens so we could deep clean their pens. On a minor dare, one of the boys took a taste of the scrap and soon we were all hooked. The sealed barrels kept the "gunk" from getting stale and it was yummy, let me tell you. I will never forget my first fist full of frosted animal cookie gunk. To this day, Rippin Good frosted animal cookies are my ultimate comfort food, reminding me of simple times, simple joys and the uncomplicated friendship of youth. Jim was the most daring of us all. Only Jim tasted just about any of the "foods" we fed the animals- Jerry and Jeff seemed to have a much more delicate gag reflex. But I will never forget the greatest dare flung out one hot summer day by one of the older guys who worked with us teens and dared us all to walk upright across the swinging bridge that connected two towers. It was the "Goat Bridge" and the sure footed goats would trip trap across to get a fist full of cracked corn that visitors to the zoo would place into the bucket which was tied to a rope pulley. The goat would cross and then in an act of pure show-off goatsman-ship the goat would put his lips around the rope and pull the bucket up to get the corn. I don't remember the prize attached to the dare, but it was not insignificant because our elder didn't think any of us would do it. (I had crawled across on all fours to clean the tower, but that was a once or twice a summer event, and it was always a slow go as the bridge was high over a murky,shallow barnyard pond- not anything one would want to take a dip in and possibly too shallow to break a fall from the heights). Jim jumped up from the picnic table where we were all on one of my Dad's famous "coffee breaks" and we all proceeded to follow him to the barnyard. Jim climbed the first tower- a series of switch-back ramps that goats used to get to the bridge. Without hesitation, he stepped out onto the bridge and proceeded to run, yes run, all the way across and all the way back. With the grace of a born athlete he climbed back down the ramps, jumped the goat pen fence and held out his hand for the prize. Jim was agile, athletic, sweet hearted and had the longest curly eyelashes I have ever seen. His smile was impish and you could never stay mad at him, no matter how much he frustrated you. It has been years since I have seen Jim, but upon learning of the loss of him earlier tonight, I felt the sadness of a shared childhood remembered. It seems the friends of our youth stay forever young, and larger- more important in their impact on our lives in a different way than the friends we have met since becoming adults. I did not know Jim's adult life, but I know he was loved and I know that he will always be large in my memory. God Bless you Jim, I imagine you running, jumping and smiling that charmer smile in eternity tonight.