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Downhill Hauling the empty corn wagon down Schoolhouse Hill back to Dad’s picker when the brakes went out on the Co-op #3, missed the downshift and was grinding gears and sweating bullets but relatively optimistic until I noticed the septic tank crossing the T intersection at the bottom of the hill. The neighbor had a… Read More…

By Clovis Harold Tripp. Submitted by Carol McDonnell, Stone Lake Area Historical Society. In 1901, my Grandpa Fred Ernest Tripp moved to Washburn County, Wisconsin with his wife and four small children. In those early years, Grandpa Tripp would farm in the summer and work in the woods with his brother Rob in the winter…. Read More…

An American Girl — My Great-Grandmother, Christine Henk By Lexi Hutton, age 10. Submitted by Connie Schield, Stone Lake Area Historical Society.  Christine was born on December 12, 1905 at home in a log cabin built by her father.  She was the fourth child of Bertha and Joseph Herman. Her family had crossed the ocean… Read More…

The Sad Fate of a Beautiful Doe By Carolyn Skille Crotteau. Submitted by Carol McDonnell, Stone Lake Area Historical Society. My Dad was a true sportsman who supported our family during hard times by trapping and hunting in the Stone Lake, Wisconsin area. One day during deer hunting season, he and I were having lunch together… Read More…

Memories of growing up on the Isle of Pines on Lake Little Sissabagama By Ted Crandall, as told to Peter Lytle. Submitted by Connie Schield, Stone Lake Area Historical Society. My parents, Walter and Mary Crandall, were the caretakers of a private fishing camp on a seven acre heavily wooded island on Lake Little Sissabagama… Read More…

An interactive honeymoon – Wisconsin side of Lake Superior near the Apostle Islands Submitted by Linda McShannock Chuck and I spent the last couple of years building a log cabin on his property on the Wisconsin side of Lake Superior. When my daughter and her boyfriend came up to spend a weekend with us at the… Read More…

While my sisters and I were growing up we hardly ever saw our father as he worked two or three jobs at a time. Then my parents divorced and we all thought we would never see him. Then came the first holiday as a family separated by divorce. It was Memorial day 1982. My father… Read More…

I was probably six or seven years old, 1966 or ’67. Summers were untethered for me in Racine, everyday, all day, at the Park & Rec program at Island Park in the beautiful old pavilion where I looked up to the teenage playground leaders. We bounced big red rubber balls loudly on the concrete or… Read More…