Sounds of Silence and New Beginnings

As you can see, I ceased to blog in late June of last year.

Some of you may be wondering why.  The answer is layered, as is everything in life, but events of last summer began to overwhelm me, and I just didn't know how to write about them.  I was not ready, was not able.

My husband is a retired military man.  This is a thing anyone reading my blog knows.  He returned from a second deployment to Afghanistan with a changed mind about several things. 

The strongest theme I saw that had become different in his personality was a renewed determination not to waste any time.  Somehow, the urgency and uncertainty of days spent in a war zone had impressed upon him that life is not a thing to be taken for granted.  He knew military retirement was imminent, and knew that he would not settle for sitting around or taking it easy.

I did not really know this guy, but liked him and together we tried to figure out what should be next. 
My husband has always been the guardian of the down trodden.  His efforts to help other people believe in themselves stemmed from a childhood of knowing only too well what is was like not to.

We had always had a heart for Boulder Junction.  Settling there into a business that could bring something of a new destination to the community was something that felt right, felt like a homecoming for me, and was a move inspired by the endeavors of my family's contributions to the community in years past.

After much prayer and soul searching, we found our path leading us to purchase the building now known as the Aqualand Ale House in 2012.  We knew one thing-  we knew next to nothing about what we were about to embark upon, but we trusted that the urging we felt in our hearts was true.  So we moved forward into what has been the most difficult and incredibly rewarding adventure of our lives.

I would guess that my spouse would say that figuring out this business has been tougher than war.  That the logistics of some of our largest hurdles would rank second in difficulty, surpassed only by the logistics of moving an entire base of buildings, equipment and vehicles from USA to Nicaragua and back- a thing he did in 2002.

The first two years have been hard- very hard.  Just as we were getting to feel somewhat in control, in late June of last year, we received news that no one wants to hear.

The man who had survived so much was diagnosed with cancer.  Mildly aggressive and of a treatable sort, but never-the-less the "C" word that we all despise.  Just over a month later, he was in an accident of the "lucky to walk away from that one" sort. We lost our chef, a terrible blow in the height of the summer season, and we were reeling from some IRS issues, the result of our inexperience.  Our business was seeing success, so much so that we could barely handle it, and as the review sites will attest, we had a few bad days that will haunt us for a long time.

In the face of this, I just didn't know what to write about, what to say, except-  Huh? why?

But we learned something in the second half of 2014.  We came to understand that we cannot always understand.  We cannot always choose the events that come our way, but we can choose how we deal with them. 

In a crazy way, we got a lot more relaxed.  I remember Lt. Dan in the movie "Forrest Gump", tied o the mast of the shrimp boat in a storm yelling at God-  "Is that all you've got"? If someone had told us what we would face, we probably would have thought twice about the whole adventure. But now that we are in it, we somehow got surprised  by our resilience. 

We are looking at the summer of 2015 with completely different eyes.  The surgery to eliminate the "C" from our lives for good is just around the corner, the chef we found late last summer is a rock star, the former co- owner of a famous  local restaurant we all loved when I was growing up- George's Steak House.  His way with Fire roasting meats is fantastic. Our IRS adventures are resolved and the last lingering injury from the accident should be resolved soon as well. The biggest gift of all though was our son joining us in the business, to help and stand in the gaps left by Dr. appointments and tests. Thank you Dan- we love you.

While my husband recuperates from surgery, we hope to dive into bigger capital improvements that will enhance our kitchen and expand our use of the Frog House side of the building. We are excited about 2015, anxious to see what it holds for us.

We are amazed at all the new friendships and loyal guests that we have found as a part of our adventure.  You stuck with us, forgave us in our learning and have encouraged us along the way. 

We endeavor to bring you new and even better us this year. 

You may have noticed our new website-  a gift from our other son who shares his programming talents with us- such a blessing.  As part of our capital improvements, we are beginning again with a new blog that will be linked from this site as well. This blog will share regularly about alehouse events, adventures, staff, menu items.  The plan is to incorporate less of the history and more of the present- more photos, more links and overall much, much more about the beer-  the backbone of our business. 

Sorry for my silence-  some things will throw you for a while, but a girl raised with wolves always gets back up!

Small Town Celebrations

We are getting close to Independence Day.  Growing up at Aqualand, this signaled the beginning of one of my favorite things- parade season!  We trucked our animals and our friends from small town to small town to ride through the parade, where I have to admit-  we won lots of trophies.  Who could compete with a trailer load of fawns, baby timber wolves, baby bears and the like.  Every now and then we attempted to change things up a bit.  I still remember the year of the bi-centennial, when several others and I dressed up like patriot women stitching the American flag, surrounded by of course, baby animals.  At the end of the parade, I stood up and realized I had stitched my granny dress (remember when we called them that- or Maxi-dresses?!) to the flag during the parade.  Betsy Ross I was not!

It seemed like every year a baby would get nervous and wet on my lap...every year there were cheers as we rode by.

I remember too the fireworks, we watched them either in Boulder Jct or in Sayner- the two towns we made sure to parade in.  Or, when we were younger, our neighbors would host a huge party and they set off their own fireworks display.  My most vivid memory is that of their 33 gallon garbage can filled with the longest sparklers- the 36 inchers....we would light them on road flares set up along the driveway and write our names in the air all night long. 

I have always loved fireworks.  One of my fondest memories is from 1977 when I visited a boy in Eagle River the night of their display and we rowed out into the middle of the lake he lived on, laid back on the bench seats and watched both the fireworks being shot off at the fair grounds and an absolutely fantastic display of northern lights throbbing across the sky behind them.  I am quite sure I will never see something that rare again.

And then there is my spouse. My husband has a reputation.  Just ask my family. He loves fireworks too, almost as much as he loves bonfires.  And he is a retired military man.  The combination led to ordinance displays of unique and interesting effect.  That's all I dare say about that...:)! 

I remember chicken dinners put on by Lions, Firemen and the crazy one day trout pond. When I got older, Independence Day was one of the rare times when we all returned from wherever our adult lives had taken us.  I would anticipate and keep an eye out for old friends and old classmates, delighting when I caught up with someone I had not seen for years or in some cases for years and years.

Independence-  what a word!  It instills in us the belief in our ability to be the master of our own destiny.  It is a pulling away and a stretching word.  It is a word of hope and future.  A strong word, a sometimes lonely word. But it is our word, a truly American word.

I think every small business owner knows the feelings this thought brings forth.  For our country is full of the little guys, the artisans, craftsmen, brewers and chefs who create products and places for us all the come together. 

Happy Independence Day Boulder Jct- thanks for all your support!

Paying Tribute

This week we are honored to play a role in tribute events.  One of our great blessings has been to meet and make new friends in the midst of our endeavors.

The Aqualand Ale House was once known by another name.  It was much loved by the friends of Betty's Deli.  We have heard time and again how wonderful Betty was, how kind and oh what a cook!  Our deepest regret is that we did not know her.  Those who did have only the fondest of memories. We have had the privilege of getting to know her "kids". The adults who gifted us by accepting our offer to purchase just a year and a half ago.  This weekend Betty's family and friends will spend a little time with the place that brought her so much joy, and by default will spend a little time with us.  We are humbled and we are honored.

Tomorrow night we are closing our doors for a private party- a first for us.  For tomorrow night Bill and Sue will celebrate their life and it's milestones, realized together.  A broad group of friends and family will come and raise a glass with them, to them and a next chapter of their life will begin.  We are honored to humbly serve as hosts for this celebration.

Our dream from the beginning was that the Aqualand Ale House be first and foremost a place where friends would gather, where friends would sit awhile, chat a while, raise a glass and laugh together. We have seen strangers become friends and friends drawn closer on our dippy, sinky-seat bar stools. 

And at the Aqualand Ale House, may we celebrate life and the living of it every day.  May we revel in the joy of time, of friendship, of good food, good beer and laughter.  We are honored each time we sense your enjoyment and we are humbled when you call us friend.

God Bless you Betty! Congratulations Bill and Sue!

Picking up Garbage, Catching Frogs and Peacock Feathers

My earliest Aqualand memories were those of a little girl playing the excelsior packaging beneath the rough, plywood table in the work area of the gift shop warehouse, as mommy and the other ladies unwrapped, priced and prepared items they would sell in the upcoming tourism season of summer.

The Boxes were forts, the excelsior my bedding.  I could spend hours there, no doubt chattering and creating homes for my dolls.

But when I truly dream of my childhood, I remember vividly that time between being too young to ride my bike alone and being old enough to get a social security card so I could be on the payroll. (in those days one did not have to register their children for a social security number, but one was required to draw a paycheck).

These were my years of being an independent contractor.  I tried many entrepreneurial ventures, but those that paid the best were those of picking up garbage, catching frogs and finding peacock feathers. 

All of these were tasks my grandfather, known to most as Uncle Pat, paid me in coins: quarters, nickels and dimes- enough for a soda pop or cotton candy or on an especially profitable day, a new beaded necklace from the Aqualand gift shop.

Riding my little blue bike from my childhood home to the parking lot at Aqualand was quick business.  I needed to be done collecting garbage before the doors opened for the day, and they opened at 9 am.  So by 8 am I was picking up a trash bucket, and walking first through the parking lot where any number of ridiculous items were cast off by less than tidy visitors from the day before.  Most common were the wrappers and pop bottles, cigarette butts and dirty diapers-  the things that no one wanted to keep in their car for the ride back home.  In the late sixties, while Mad Men wrote their ads, people did not concern themselves with disposing of trash carefully.  The crying Indian Warrior, the first and most enduringly powerful "Anti-Littering" National Campaign was still a few years away.

Once the parking lot was done, I would move in one of two directions, the animals side or the ponds side of the park.  The ponds side was kind of mysterious to me, an imaginative little blondie.  I was slightly afraid of the spirit of the turtles, who lay deep in the muck of a morning before the sun warmed enough to draw them to the surface.  Next to the main turtle pond was the pond for the alligator snappers, three foot long horny shelled monsters who lived beneath the water in their enclosure. I knew they were humongous and had vicious snapping jaws, and I also knew that there was no one else about to bear witness if they somehow grabbed and ate me.  If I managed to survive them, I moved on to the spookiest place of all, the back musky pond.  This was where my father and grandfather told visitors that "Old Mose" lived.  Old Mose was the fabled gigantic musky.  That trophy that everyone wanted to catch a glimpse of.  As I dragged my fearful steps around the pond, scooping plastic bags from the water with my net and picking up the other trash, I looked in vain for his bulk in the murky water. 

It was really a Miracle I lived to tell the tale. Between the danger of my mission and my wild imagination, I would have thought I should have surely expired...

Once the trash was collected, there was a walk through the grounds to retrieve peacock feathers.  more prevalent in late July and August, it was my job to gather dropped tail feathers daily, sometimes twice a day.  The feathers had value and were sold in the gift shop.  But visitors who found them frequently missed the signage throughout the park explaining that such feathers were the property of Aqualand.  Confiscating them was never pleasant, so we endeavored to gather them ourselves to avoid the conflict.

My final money making opportunity was to catch leopard frogs, which I could sell to Aqualand for feeding the muskies.  On a good day I would catch a dozen or so in the little creek across the road from Aqualand.  It was truly only a couple of years ago that I realized the culvert from the musky pond must have been the source of the frogs in the creek.  So in essence, I was merely re-catching the frogs my grandfather had already sold to visitors once.  These were the smart frogs who evaded the muskies to live another day.  I wonder how many of them I caught again and again.

Business was good for a budding business woman in the 1960's especially when one grew up in a magical kingdom of frogs, muskies and peacocks; deer, bear and timber wolves.  Narnia didn't have anything on Aqualand, and Aqualand was real.

Spring Cleaning at Aqualand

Spring.  It is right  before our eyes. As long and snowy and cold as winter has been, spring always comes again.  In the time that the ale house has been closed, we have tackled many of the  projects that we wanted to accomplish before opening again on May 2nd.  I have posted pictures of our new kitchen floor and the new bar face. We have a few more new introductions, additions and tricks up our sleeve as well, so stay tuned on Facebook for those...

But there are a few things I want to share about spring that have their roots in another time, at another Aqualand.  Many times people asked us what was it like in the winter season?  Well, as my dad often says, "animals eat all year long".  So there were the daily chores.  One thing many people did know was that we had a winter quarters where all the birds and critters not born for the winters or Northern Wisconsin, we called it "the workshop". The workshop was the hub of the operations behind the scenes. In the winter months, all the repairs that could be made got made there.  New cages and dens and boxes got built.  All the signs, which were taken down in the fall, were freshly painted and repaired as well.  It was also there that the guys drank coffee, swapped stories and sat in old chairs that should have been tossed long ago.  It was the ultimate Man Cave before people talked longingly about man caves. Instead of working with the ladies at the gift shop, I opted to be one of the guys....at least as much as they would let me.  I remember one time thinking I would surprise my dad and help out.  I cleaned the man cave, organizing it so well he had no idea where anything was.  I think the only thing he was grateful for was my cleaning of the single stall toilet off to one side...though he said he didn't think it was so bad. (you can imagine).There was a smell to the work shop, sawdust, turpentine and fresh paint, tinged with the earthy aroma of a slew of critters in the pen area beyond the open work room.  The workshop also housed an incubator.  Every spring, we would hatch our own chickens, ducks, geese, quail etc.  I can remember rolling the eggs, candling them to see if progress was being made, and finally being there for the big day, when little ones would fight their way from the shells.

Spring started early at Aqualand, the baby bears usually came first sometime in March.  Babies were removed from their parents at a fairly young age, bottled raised and tamed.  As the warmer weather came, the back pens of the work shop were cleaned and re-purposed for babies of all shapes and sizes.  The really little ones came to our house, and the kitchen was a sea of boxes, sometimes as many as a dozen filled with babies-  foxes, wolves, cougars, raccoons, skunks, ferrets, coyotes, otters, squirrels, and on a rare occasion birds.  Anything that needed closer attention, more frequent feedings, warmth and attention.  There were heating blankets and warm towels.  The ultimate nursery.

The warm quarters at the workshop housed the fawns, baby goats, lambs and such.  These were my babies.  I would sit with them and talk to them, feed them formula from pop bottles adapted with large black rubber nipples.  These babies would move down to the nursery in the barn yard where all season visitors could buy a bottle to feed the babies- 15 cents a bottle-  I remember the call, and I remember endless hours spent sitting in the milk house, selling bottles, scrubbing bottles and killing flies, which for some reason loved to hang out in my little spot beneath the goat bridge.

Spring at Aqualand was filled with promise, filled with getting ready, putting our best foot forward.  As the gift shop ladies inventoried, priced and arranged all the new souvenirs, we out on the grounds raked and painted and pruned.

Each year we purchased piglets and a calf and these were added to the repertoire of babies to nurture. 

I was in demand with all of them, recognized as important by my buckets. The memory of this will always warm spring's sunshine for me...

Spring at the Aqualand Ale House is filled with promise as well.  We are preparing to put our best foot forward.  Excited by the thrilling start of our initial season, we hope to raise the bar, raise the standard and bring you new reasons to stop as set a while with us in 2014.

Being the Little Sister

I find myself thinking about my big sister  a lot today.  Had to capture some of my thoughts:

The little sister- that was me.  I can remember looking up at my big sister and wishing to be just like her.  Why couldn’t I have green eyes and long, curling hair?  Why were my eyes the color of doggie doo and my hair non-existent?  She could read, sew, play piano and sit still.  I could do none of these, well, okay, I could sort of play the piano, but that went along with the sit still thing, which I failed at miserably.  She could also be quiet and polite.

I wanted to be her, or just like her but I knew it wasn’t possible.  She got the first Barbie doll, the first day of school; in my little girl existence it seemed she got to be first at everything.

I was a daydreamer, a talker and mischievous.  I wandered off in the woods once, scaring my mother and father to tears.  I really just wanted to go to the neighbors, but in our neck of the woods that was a quarter mile away through dense forest. While my big sister made cookies with Mommy, I usually made a mess in the mud in the yard.

I am pretty sure my constant chatter drove my parents and my big sister to despair.  I don’t recall exactly, but I expect I did not sit still in church, that I blurted out inappropriately loud questions.

People mistook me for a little boy when I stood too close to my sister.  She was much more feminine than I was with that hair, those eyes and her shy smile.  She was truly the little lady to my bull in a china shop.

Where she was patient and determined to do things well, I remember always wanting more- wanting to know, wanting to explore, wanting, wanting, wanting often what I could not have and too impatient to finish any task well.  Then as I grew older, I remember discovering that sometimes there was a way  to make things go the way I wanted to if I worked hard enough, talked loud enough, practiced and practiced and practiced.  Sometimes this meant pushing someone out of my way. Very often, this became my big sister, the closest obstacle in many of my paths.

I cannot imagine the hurt and embarrassment that my loud, pushy ADHD self caused my sister along the way, but I know it did.  She often set the bar in my little girl mind, and that bar was my challenge as I imagine it is for little sisters everywhere.

As we grew older, I did not have the intuition to tone it down, could not see the damage that could be done in constantly hurting someone’s feelings.  To me, I was still the little sister, the pudgy tomboy to her slender beauty.  But I could run, and I could sing loud, I could tell stories and I could draw- I had discovered that I was better than her at these things. I had made a mental decision that If I wasn’t good at it, I would walk the other way leaving to her forever the baking, sewing, piano playing, babysitting, long hair and thin waist.

We grew up, grew mature and became good friends, but I know that little sister never completely disappears.  I continue to talk loud, run fast and jump from thing to thing, and of course try to always climb higher.  My big sister knows me well.  She knows my character, she knows my restlessness. She sees my wit and sarcasm, my pushy determination and in the darkest of moments, she senses my little sister neediness.

I love my sisters- yes, I have a little sister too who I will write about sometime, but she was much younger, so our relationship is very different.  My big sister was the other pea in the pod of my childhood, and I can imagine it was hard to be trapped in that role as I kicked and wiggled and wormed my way forward regardless of the tightness of the pod.

Recently someone posted a picture of two little girls in matching dresses. The big sister had darker, longer hair and was scowling furiously.  The little sister, with blonde hair stood next to her and her smile was beaming. The caption was, “I’m dressed just like my sister”.  It made me laugh and at the same time I recognized that it could easily have been a picture of my big sister and me.  Matching outfits always thrilled me, but I am pretty sure my big sister was not as overjoyed.

Sisterhood is not for the faint of heart. But I will always be grateful that my big sister accepted the role that was not her choosing.  I will always be grateful that I had a playmate, a second mother, a bar setter and a friend in the midst of all the animals and woods that we called home.

Love Has Many Faces

February has just started, and with it more cold temps, snow and clouds.  But along with these comes the reminder that this month, one of the quiet winter months we nod to on it's way by, is also the month that we pause at least momentarily to think about love.  Great loves, little silly loves, loves lost, loves re-gained, loves longed for and love's many splendored things.

Love has many faces doesn't it?  Just thinking of the word gets my mind to spinning and hopping...

For me, when thinking of Valentine's day, I remember the years when my husband was overseas-  I am quite sure we were not able to talk on the day itself on the first Afghan deployment, but we exchanged extravagant gifts and long letters well aware of the blessing our love is by the absence of it's daily routine.  The second deployment Dick was on R&R and we celebrated Valentines Day in Paris, heading to the top of the Eiffel tower for sunset and then taking in the evening on the river cruise along the Seine. I remember the year we took my parents to Puerto Rico.  The sweet way my father and husband bought and presented Mom and I red roses while we dined with a view of the sunset on the ocean and the sound of waves crashing against the cliffs below.

Thinking about this traditional day of expressing love cannot help but give way to other, more broad memories of love. I remember my boys- and I smile remembering our favorite crazy mystery science theater "comment-alongs" accompanied by pizza and usually a couple of extra loaner sons. Later still, dinner and a movie which is still a favorite mother-son event.

I remember when, just days after Dick left for war the last time, I attended my best friend's son's wedding-  the son who had been a frequent loaner son that had his own toothbrush at our house. When it was time for the mother-son dance, he and his mom called me to the floor to take a spin in the midst of them, and I felt the warmth of their love when I needed it so...

I remember the year a car full of us-  all college freshmen were in an accident on our way home-  the truck we were riding in flipped upside down into a water-filled ditch.  No one knew what to do, but I knew my dad could be counted upon-  and he came for us, driving four hours through the snow storm to retrieve us all, paying for our hot dinner and getting us all home safely

I remember the fun I have had with my big sister going to auctions- and with my little sister singing karaoke.

My grandson Jude, who, while we were doing puzzles together one night, turned to me, put his little hands on my cheeks and said, "You're pretty great Grandma" as if startled by the discovery.

I could go on and on, as I am sure each of us can if only we think on those we love.

This year Valentine's Day is on a Friday-  a wonderful treat which means we can have a special night with a special someone or some ones. 

Our venture into business has given us a chance to provide a place and an evening where our friends and guests can come and join us for great food, great entertainment and great atmosphere.

Come to the Aqualand Ale House and join us for dinner, conversation and music.  The fire will be lit, the food and wine will be fine and as always the best craft beers will be on tap. 

This event needs you to RSVP by next Saturday though, so be sure to send us an e-mail, phone call or facebook RSVP.  We need to grocery shop!

Memories have many faces- and love has a long memory.  Come an make a few new ones with us won't you?!