by Phyllis McCrossin

They say the sense of smell is a strong memory trigger, and they (whoever they are) are probably right. But, I’d have to add that music is as well.

The music took me back a few years.

Tonight, in order to drown out a remake of The Creature from the Black Lagoon on TV, I slapped on some headphones and turned on some music. I came across something I had not listened to for years. My music interests are extremely varied and tonight’s selection was by Rick Kuethe from his album “Nebraska Suite.” It’s not really mainstream music.

I first heard it during the summer of 1988 while on a newspaper assignment in Saugatuck. I was covering an unveiling of an art project at Ox Bow School of Arts & Artists.

The school, which is affiliated with the School of the Arts Institute of Chicago, is located on 110 acres on the west side of the Kalamazoo River in Saugatuck. For many years the school was rather closed off and aloof. I’m sure many there today would take umbrage with that statement, but growing up in the area that’s how I remember it.

It was that time, as a reporter at a local paper, I received a lot of invitations to come visit the school. I believe it was the school’s effort to become more noticeable in the Saugatuck community. Again, that was 35 years ago, I could be remembering it wrong. (But I don’t think so).

I have not been back to Ox Bow since, so I’m sure the school has grown since then, but at the time the main building was the former Riverside Hotel, which dated back to the late 1800s.

The hotel owners, the Striver family, had a home on the property which was built in the mid-1800s and was located on an ox bow bend in the Kalamazoo River. After realizing the potential for trade and tourist traffic, they added onto their home in the 1890s, converting it into a 20-room hotel. But in 1907 the Kalamazoo River channel was straightened to flow directly into Lake Michigan, cutting off the Riverside Hotel from river access. The Striver family leased the hotel to a group of artists for the summer.

Mom was a huge history buff. She and I shared a penchant for history, old buildings and stories of the past. I had been out to the school for a couple of other assignments and told Mom about it. She was intrigued. So when I was invited back to cover the unveiling of the art project I asked Mom if she wanted to join me. She readily accepted.

When the Kalamazoo River was straightened, it left a small ox-bow shaped lake behind. It was on this lake that the floating art project was to be unveiled.

I’m guessing a little background on the project is in order. A Western Michigan University professor had been awarded a grant for the project. If I were really interested I could do some digging to find the name of the grant and other pertinent information, but that’s not important for this tale.

When Mom and I arrived at the school, the professor and his student interns were sitting on the shore contemplating how to go about erecting this floating art project. “Put Kuethe on,” he instructed one of his students. I was sitting in the sand next to the boom box and saw the cassette tape case. The name stuck with me.

The school’s community relations director gave Mom a tour of the old hotel building and then Mom joined me on the beach. Someone offered her a lawn chair and she sat rather stiffly. Someone offered her a glass of wine and she relaxed – a little.

Everyone sat on the shore, slapping mosquitoes, listening to music, drinking wine and contemplating life.

Finally someone suggested they get started before it got too dark to work. Personally I thought it was a good idea since I had to get photos of this floating thing before deadline. I was working, after all.

An air compressor was pulled out, large plastic/Mylar/latex orbs were mounted on platforms, helium was pumped into them, lights were floated on more platforms and the entire regalia had to be floated out onto the water. It was then discovered that the bottom of the lake was rather mucky. None of the young co-eds wanted to wade out into the water to anchor the art.

Well crap. I was on deadline. It was getting dark. I handed the camera to Mom and started taking off my shoes.

“You aren’t going out there are you?”

“Mom. I can’t go out on assignment and come back with nothing.”

I tied my skirt up above my knees, grabbed a line and waded in with a few other students. Mom snapped pictures of the process.

Mom had another glass of wine and we left.

As we were driving down the now dark road back to Saugatuck Mom said to me, “You know that looked like a giant floating cow udder, don’t you?”

She was right. But the music and wine were good.