Category: Art’s Daughter

My dad and I have had our ups and downs. Luckily more ups than downs. There have been times where the down stretch was long. I still thought of my dad during those times. If I was creating something new for supper with just ingredients and no recipe, I would wonder, what would dad do?… Continue reading He is After All MY Dad

Growing up in the boon-docks, us kids had to use our imagination to keep ourselves entertained on those long hot summer days. The temperatures would climb, sweating humidity which by noon, would have enveloped all around you; so thick, you had to part it with your hands to move. My parents both worked and back… Continue reading The Boon-Docks Slip And Slide

I am Art Trelstad’s Daughter.  I know the proper way of how to wrap up a garden hose. I remember the lessons I received every early summer when it was time for watering the grass or the flowers. My dad had a particular way so that it never became the summer equivalent of Christmas Lights.… Continue reading The Proper Way to Wrap a Garden Hose

Many moons ago, On Saint Patrick’s Day, my dad would take us out for dinner at a restaurant in East Lansing. For the life of me I can’t recall the name of the place but it had pretty good food. Anyhoo, every year this place had a dinner special just for Saint Patty’s day. You… Continue reading Green Carnations

My dad and I would get into ferocious fights when I was a smug teenager. Nine times out of ten they would end with my dad yelling at me, “I can’t wait for you to grow up and become as stupid as I am!” The rebel teen that I was, scoffed silently with a roll… Continue reading Stupid

Like so many people, I have vices. This little story of mine is only about one.  Perhaps the most important vice I have.  Coffee.  Not just any coffee, but the perfect cup of coffee. I can’t remember how old I was when I first started drinking coffee, but it has been quite some time now… Continue reading The Perfect Cup of Coffee

Like many young college adults around the world, my daughter is home, trying to keep as far away from Covid-19 as possible.  I worry about her because she came home already sick.  She has a pretty good inner ear infection and according to her own words, she has been sick since we dropped her off… Continue reading Full Circle

We were going camping; up to the great outdoors of northern Michigan.  The pop-up camper was packed and hitched and Art’s Jeep full of family, crayons and coloring books, and plenty of snacks for the next four hours or so that lay ahead on the highways and side roads. My dad drove and chewed his… Continue reading The One Time Painted Red Dock

My dad started out working for a city in the mid-sixties, riding the back of garbage trucks making two dollars and fifty cents an hour, so he told me many times growing up.  By the time he had three small daughters at home, it was the early seventies. He was now driving the truck, plus… Continue reading Garbage Girl