Missing Mackinac Island

I miss Mackinac Island. I did not go on vacation this summer as I’m choosing to stay close to home during the pandemic. The only two places I go on a regular basis are to work at the library and the grocery store. I don’t even feel safe going to church yet, something that is weighing on me heavily the longer I stay away from my local parish. And if I’m not going to Mass yet, I certainly can’t justify taking a trip up to Mackinac Island. And I surely would like to, because not only is Mackinac a wonderful, unique place to visit, it also happens to be where my mom and dad are buried.

Mackinac Island has always been more than just a vacation spot for my family. My mom was born and raised on the Island. Her family ties to the Island, at least as far as I can tell with my limited genealogy hunt, date to 1835 when her great-grandfather, Alexander, was born there. Indeed, we have some pretty deep roots on Mackinac Island.

My great-great-grandparents, Alexander and Ursula Dufina, had six children, one named Theodore. Theodore and Mary Ellen had ten children, one of whom, Phillip, was my grandfather. Phillip and Beth had four children, one of whom was my mom. Her siblings are Mary, Frances, and Dennis.

And this is the house where Mom was born. It’s on Cadotte Avenue, better known as the street that takes you up to the Grand Hotel. If you’ve ever been on Mackinac, chances are you’ve gone by this house. 😊

I’d like to share with you a little bit about my mom’s family, starting with her parents, Phillip and Beth. Phillip was an amazing golfer, a skill he learned from his Uncle Frank; more about Uncle Frank later. Phillip was, for many years, the club professional at the Grand Hotel golf course, The Jewel. He is believed to hold the course record at the Grand Hotel; at least he did at the time of his death because it was mentioned in his obituary.

Phillip teeing off at the Jewel at the Grand Hotel

In his golf travels, Phillip (on the right) played against some very famous players, including Gene Sarazen (on the left) and Chick Evans (second from the right.) I'm not sure who the gentleman second from the left is.

That's my grandfather, Phillip, second from the right, with three brothers and a couple of gentlemen who's names I do not know. My mom gave us each a copy of this picture, and wrote everyone's names on the back. But of course, I can't locate that copy of this picture as I write.

Sadly, I never knew my grandfather as he died before I was born. Therefore, I have few personal stories about Phillip, but I do remember my mom sharing this one with me. She recalled how the Islanders used to mark an ice path to St. Ignace during the winter. After Christmas, when the Straits of Mackinac froze over, they would haul their old Christmas trees out to the ice and use them to guide them over to St. Ignace, the city in the Upper Peninsula that was closest to the Island. Mom said that her dad used to load a kid or two into a sled and pull them across to St. Ignace to buy groceries or whatever it was they needed. In this photo, my mom and her sister Mary are being pushed in a cart by their father. Look into the distance, and you'll see the Grand Hotel.

I was named after Beth, my beloved grandmother. (She is in the center of this picture, very appropriate as she was the heart of our family.) I talked a bit about her in my April 20 blog post that featured her recipe for what my family calls, “Grandma’s Chicken Casserole.” I always knew my grandma to be a strong woman with a formidable presence. But, having just reread her obituary from the Mackinac Island Town Crier, I’m now convinced she was a woman ahead of her time.

Grandma went to Mackinac Island when she was 18 for a summer job waitressing. But she fell in love with Phillip, and they got married. While raising four children, she also served as the Island’s city clerk for several years. And on the side, she baked and sold pies, cakes, and bread out of her home, with my mom and her sisters helping out by taking orders and then delivering the freshly-baked delicacies to customers. Eventually, Grandma would even own and operate her own bakery downtown. In her obituary, it was said that Beth’s bakery, “gave warmth to all.” What a great compliment!

As mentioned, Phillip was one of ten children. Several of his brothers died young, as did he, and I didn't get a chance to know them. But I do have recollections of a few of the others. Reason being, no trip to the Island was complete until we paid a visit to my mom’s aunts and uncles; at least her favorites. 😊

Emerson lived with his sisters, Helen and Shirley, none of the three ever having married, in the house to the left. Emerson worked for the US Post Office his whole life. He served as postmaster for 23 years, having been appointed to that position by President Truman in 1949. When he retired in 1972, he received the Distinguished Service Award. After his death in 1986, flags over Fort Mackinac and city hall were lowered to half-staff in his memory.

Helen was my mom’s favorite aunt for sure. We spent many hours sitting on their screened-in front porch, catching up on family and Island news/gossip. Shirley was always with us, but didn’t really engage. I realized as an adult, that Shirley was a person with Down Syndrome, but when I was little, I just knew her as a rather shy, elderly aunt.

Another aunt we always visited was Aunt Selma. Now, this generation had two Selma Dufinas, as two of my mom’s uncles married women named Selma. Selma Roth Dufina, married to James, was a female fudge maven, another woman ahead of her time. A recent mention of her in the Town Crier stated that, “Selma Dufina had pioneered the post-World War II fudge business when she opened “Selma’s” at the head of what was then the Arnold Dock in 1948.” Until reading that in the paper, I didn’t realize Selma was a pioneer. I just knew she had a fudge shop on the dock where she made really good fudge! Being loyalists, Selma’s was the only fudge my family ever bought on Mackinac as long as she was in business. Selma owned her shop until 1978, when she retired.

Unfortunately, my grandparents divorced, and my grandmother moved with her children back to Alpena, her hometown, when my mom was about 12 years old. My mom never lived on the Island again after that, but her sister, Mary, and brother, Dennis, both returned to Mackinac where they married and raised their children. It was at the homes of Mary and Dennis that we stayed on our visits.

That's me with my godparents, Mary and Dennis.

Mary moved around the Island quite a bit, and I can pinpoint three of the homes she lived in with her family. They also lived for a while in the area of the Island known as British Landing, but that house burned down in a fire in the late 1970s. It’s always been fun, on return visits, to see how Mary’s homes have fared over the years. One is right next door to The Island House Hotel and another is just across the street. There was a third home lived in between those two houses, so Mary did not just move her family across the street. Mary owned both a fudge shop and gift shop downtown for several years. She was also very knowledgeable about Mackinac history, and she authored two books, “The Voice of the Turtle,” and “Historic Personalities of the Mackinac Region.”

Top Left: the house in the back was the first home of Aunt Mary's that I visited. Yellow now, it was grey when we first visited.

Top Right: two of my brothers in front of the house "built into the hill;" this one was just past the Grand Hotel, the first street to the left.

Bottom Left: Aunt Mary's last home on the Island, next to The Island House Hotel. That's my mom's sister, Frances, posing in front.

Bottom Right: my brother and his family sneaking a picture in front of Uncle D's house. They weren't staying there this trip, so they didn't want to impose on the folks renting his house for the month.

Dennis is known affectionately to his nieces and nephews as “Uncle D.” He and his wife, Aunt Carol, owned a three-story Victorian home, circa 1890, in the Hubbard’s Annex area, west of the Grand Hotel. This beautiful old house, with all its unique niches and grand staircase, was a delight to visit as a child. I have fond memories of us all going on walks with Uncle D. at night and viewing the Mackinac Bridge all lit up.

Left: hanging out in one of those unique niches with our cousin, Denise.

Right: someone's in the kitchen with Grandma and Uncle D.

Uncle Dennis is also in the family business, that is, golf. He is a member of the Michigan Section of the PGA of America. He too, was the golf pro at The Jewel at the Grand Hotel for many years. How much fun to be able to pop into the pro shop at the golf course and say HI! as we gadded about town as youngsters. Quite often, my younger brothers were able to pick up some quick cash as Uncle D. would let them carry the clubs for golfers if they were short on caddies some days. To this day, my three younger brothers love to play golf. And the next generation has taken it up as well. My nephew, Kyle, is a seriously good golfer in Indiana, and he’s just in high school.

As grown-ups, we’ve come to believe Uncle D and Aunt Carol’s house is haunted! Occasionally a piece of jewelry would disappear only to mysteriously reappear days later. Doors could be heard creaking open and shut long after everyone had retired to bed at night. One of my sisters-in-law tells of the time she was sitting at the make-up vanity, brushing her hair, when she saw the image of a young woman appear in the corner of the mirror she was looking into. She turned around quickly, but no one was there. She was alone in the room.

But the eeriest unexplained happening comes from my niece, Anna, when she was about three years old. Anna was standing in one of the bedrooms when she said to her mom, “Mommy, what’s that?" She pointed up to the ceiling in the back corner of the room and stood there looking up. She spoke of seeing a lady with a white dress on. Her mom, trying to downplay it, just told her that she couldn’t see anything. OK, I’ve never really believed in ghosts, but I have not stayed at Uncle D.’s house for years now. Just because.

I’m going to back-up two generations now, and talk about one of my ancestors who left an indelible stamp on Mackinac Island, my great-great Uncle Frank. Frank began playing at Wawashkamo Golf Course shortly after the course was laid out in 1898 when he was 14 years old. Wawashkamo was built upon fields where the Battle of Mackinac Island was fought between the British and Americans in 1814. It was a victory for the British, a battle that was part of the extended War of 1812.

The name Wawashkamo, in Chippewa, means "walk a crooked path." Island legend has it that the inspiration for the name came when Chief Eagle Eye, who resided just across from the course on British Landing Road, watched a young Frank Dufina play the course.

When you begin working at a golf course at age 14 as did Uncle Frank, I guess you're ready to be the golf pro at 22, at least back in the day. For he did indeed become the course professional when he was 22 and served in that capacity until he retired, in 1968, at the age of 84. In 1968 he was named as the "Longest Working Golf Professional in History" by Golf Digest. A member of the Mackinac Bands of Chippewa and Ottawa Indians, Frank is believed to be the first Native American to compete on the professional circuit. He competed in the Western Open in 1911.

There is a tournament held each year at Wawashkamo called the Frank Dufina Match Play Championship, and the Dufina Cup is awarded to the winner. Uncle Frank truly started a family legacy. He taught all his nephews, including Phillip and Emerson, to golf; Phillip taught his son, Dennis; who taught his nephews, etc. And so, it continues. 😊

I want to give a quick shout-out to one other great-great uncle from this generation: George Washington Dufina. Birthdate: February 22, 1876. In the year of our country’s centennial, he was born on the birthdate of our first president. And they named him accordingly. I love it!

HONEYMOON!

My parents spent their honeymoon on Mackinac Island. My grandfather had not been able to attend my parents’ wedding because it was summer, and he had to be at the golf course. So, they went to the Island to see him. I always felt bad for my dad, that he had to meet his father-in-law for the very first time on his honeymoon. Anyway, above are a few pictures from their honeymoon. These pictures of my parents on the bicycles are the only time I can recall seeing my parents even on bikes. And I love my mom's rolled up jeans paired with sockless penny-loafers. And their sunglasses!! 😊

When I was growing up, being in a family with six kids, we did not really go on family vacations. But we did go visit family, and that, of course, often led us to Mackinac Island. While the many trips over the years have blended together in my mind, I can strangely recall parts of what I believe was my first ever trip to Mackinac.

It was a Saturday morning and we got up very, very early and piled into our blue station wagon. Believe it or not, this was supposed to just be a day-trip to the Island! Thankfully, once we got on the Island, my Aunt Mary convinced my parents we should at least spend the night. And we did, staying with Aunt Mary in her big, grey house on the water, just past the state harbor where the private boats and yachts dock. Joy of joys, my Grandma Beth was visiting Aunt Mary as well and that made my first time on the Island all the better. They had to find beds for all of us, and I got to bunk with Grandma. Score!

Honestly, I don’t really remember much else from that first trip, except for the sounds, sounds that I love because they shout Mackinac Island to my ears. I remember lying in bed that night, and listening to the clip-clop of horse hooves, prancing down the road. The jingling of reins. Taxi carriages ferrying folks around on a Saturday night. And then there were the boat sounds coming from the nearby docks. I can’t remember if it was a yacht race week-end or not, but it was plenty noisy. Carousing sounds of sailors who might be imbibing just a bit. And the horns being blown as boats pulled into the docks. The docks were always wild places at night, as people who’ve been cooped up on boats all day let loose on dry land.

Over the many years of my lifetime, I’ve visited Mackinac Island as a child with my family, as a young woman with my boyfriend/future husband, and as a parent with our daughters. And now, I go back to visit my mom and dad, who are both buried in Ste. Anne’s Catholic Cemetery, located serenely in the middle of the Island with many tall trees standing guard overhead. The cemetery is filling up, so you have to have a direct link to Mackinac in order to be buried there. And by virtue of my mom’s birth on the Island, she and my dad both qualified.

My mom's been gone since 2006. My father passed away in 2017. We ventured back to the Island over Labor Day week-end 2017 to bury Dad's cremains. Here are a few pictures as we reunited the physical remains of our parents that day at the cemetery after a Mass downtown at Ste. Anne's Catholic Church.

After Dad's burial service, we had lunch with Uncle Dennis at The Gate House, which just happens to be across the street from the house where our mom was born. Me, with four of my brothers and Uncle D.

As I visit my parents, I also spend time with all the relatives I’ve shared with you in this post as they are all there in the family plots. Except for Frank, who retired to Petoskey and is buried there. And one more exception, my Uncle Dennis, who I’m happy to report, is in good health and still with us. Alexander and Ursula, Theodore and Mary Ellen, George, Phillip, Emerson, Helen, Shirley, Selma, Mary, and Carol are all there, along with many others too numerous to mention. As is my Grandma Beth, for though she left the Island after the divorce, she visited frequently in later years and wanted to rest peacefully on the island she always loved.

Always love to visit Grandma! 😊

It took us awhile, but last year, 2019, we finally got our dad a proper headstone. And to celebrate, we planted two beautiful rosebushes. And tidied up Mom's headstone as well.

Indeed, Mackinac Island is my happy place and I love visiting when I can. I find great peace and joy at the cemetery and time spent there is special. I’m glad I made it up there twice last year, because it’s just not in the cards for me this year. I’ve taken solace in that, as I’ve stayed home, there are braver souls than I who have ventured to Mackinac Island; folks who’ve taken the time to stop in at Ste. Anne’s and pay their respects.

My co-worker, who not only visited, but cleaned up my parent’s graves, pulling weeds and disposing of last year’s Christmas flowers. Before and after; job well done!

Two of my oldest and dearest friends, who visit the Island often and always take time to get up to Ste. Anne’s. I love that this year they sat a spell and cracked open a cold one, something my Dad would have appreciated very much.

And my three nephews and niece, who actually took a true day trip to Island this summer! It was a whirl-wind day, but as they biked the Island, they of course stopped to visit their grandma and grandpa and then post to social media. #MackinacIsland. God bless them, I love these kids! And all my friends who stood in for me at Ste. Anne’s Cemetery this summer. #tears.

And I thank all my readers who indulge me in this journey down memory lane. But I’m sure, you too have those places as near and dear to you, as Mackinac Island is to me. And my wish for you, is that you are able to get there as often as possible. Even if, this year, it’s only in your heart.

Take care. Stay safe. Be well.

My three favorite smells from Mackinac Island? Lilacs, fudge and horse manure!

Call me crazy, but I even like the smell of horse manure. 😊