Oh, Fudge

Every time we go to Mackinac Island, we buy fudge; Mackinac is famous for its fudge. I'm not sure how all that got started but the fudge is as much fun as the motor vehicle-free island, so we always stop at Murdick's.  They will ship it to you, too, if you want some without the ferry ride to Mackinac. There are other fudge shops on Mackinac Island but, having found the best, we don't bother with the rest.

I've been to Mackinac Island at least twice now, and my memories of it are fond. Not just for the fudge, either, although that never hurts. Our friends Wendy and Ray spent their honeymoon there, and they are the ones who take us there each time we go.

Wendy's and my father were great pals, having met when both of them were Navy test pilots in Patuxent Naval Air Station, both testing the newest jets after having had illustrious wartime careers. Our mothers were fast friends, too - the story goes that the rest of the officers and their wives waited with glee to see the sparks fly between my somewhat volatile, red-headed mother and Wendy's equally sparky blonde one. However, they were doomed to disappointment, as the two women each recognized a soul sister instantly and began a lifelong friendship. They took care of each other's children, assisted in the kitchen when each was having a big dinner party, and kept in touch even after all us kids were grown and gone.

From time to time, Butch and Bobbie would visit my folks, or the four of them would take off in Butch's plane for a vacation together. One time, when my folks were visiting Michigan and we were all awaiting the birth of Wendy's first child, Butch and Dad took off in Butch's Piper Comanche for a flight to Mackinac Island to get some fudge - those two old aviators used just about any excuse to go flying together.  Butch piloted on the way up and when they landed, they were taken for movie moguls, as there was a movie being shot on Mackinac at that time.  They were vastly amused.

Fudge procured, they hopped back in the plane and took off for Detroit.  In those days, rather than leave a car at the airport, Bobbie would drive Butch there and he'd circle the house on his way home until she noticed him, switched on the outside porch light to let him know she was coming, then he would fly on the airport where she would pick him up again. Mom, Bobbie, Wendy and I were sitting in the living room when the Comanche broke altitude and solidly buzzed the house. Bobbie turned to me with a twinkle and said, "That will be your Dad flat-hatting again! Butch would never have broken altitude like that!"  Of course, she was correct.

So, this time, we had to bring home some fudge from Michigan to keep the memories alive. We are sharing it with our current house guests and telling them stories of fudges past. Sweet stories.