Ace Wisdom

Last Wednesday night, grandson Nevin had to go before the Council of Honors of the Boy Scouts of America. He played down the significance of the inquisition but his journey to become an Eagle Scout hung in the balance. His Mom and Dad were present and the philosophic questioning lasted about a half hour. And the result was …….
But wait, scouting is not an Andrews tradition. Chris was in scouts for awhile when we lived in Sheboygan and his scoutmaster was Bob Schmidt. Bob was a burly policeman who was proud to have his own son in Scouts. Chris earned a few badges and I remember attending an award ceremony for some achievement. Chris did not make scouting a passion. He did other things like pound drums in the Top Hat marching band and chase girls (I think one was Shelby Jr.)
My personal scouting experiences were not good. My Cub scout troop met in the basement of the local old three story elementary school in Plymouth. The cub scoutmaster would come to the school, open the doors and lead us to a room in the basement. His rules were that we were to stay in the room, no exceptions. Well one night my buddies and I thought it would be great to play “hide and seek” through out the old building especially when it got dark. The scoutmaster noticed we were gone from the room and he was furious. He found each of us “rascals”. We got a personal escourt to the front door, a real boot in the butt and told not to come back. I think my body left the ground when he booted me. My story to my parents was that I didn’t like cubscouts and I didn’t want to go any more. They never pushed the issue but some-how I think they knew what had happened. Scouting was not in my future.
Now back to Nevin. He has a temper and sometimes puts it on display. He does things that you’d like to say to Nevin “what the hell were you thinking”? Then he turns around and accomplishes something that brings a tear to your eye and you shake your head in disbelief. Wednesday night completed his scouting journey. He did what no Andrews has ever done. He achieved the rank of Eagle Scout. He passed the Council’s inquisition. It is a significant benchmark in his life and it is loaded with good stuff. Citizenship training. Community Service. Character Development. Personal Fitness.
So my personal congratulations go out to Nevin Andrews. He has built himself a tremendous foundation and he has the right to feel really proud. He has achieved what few scouts ever achieve. He joins James Lovell, one of the first NASA astronauts as an eagle scout as well as a long list of other famous people. He is the best of the best.
Nevin can spread his wings and soar like an Eagle. Go Nevin!
Love,
Dad (Just Chas.)

June 16, 2005. John Hollander died this date. Cancer
I cried today because I’m a little selfish. I enjoyed doing things with John and that has been taken away. I’m not much on self-pity so I wiped away the tears.
I cried for Kelly because I know there is going to be a profound change in her life. Kelly was born with a fiesty spirit and I know she will carve out a great life for her family. No doubts! So I wiped away the tears.
I cried for Grant and Mitchell who will not be able to share their achievements and successes with John. Kelly and Carlos will provide all the encouragement needed. Grant and Mitchell are in good hands. So I wiped away the tears.
I cried for all the friends and family that John touched. He was a kind, giving, and gentle soul. He could not help but make all our lives a little better. He liked sports, gardens, flowers, John Deere tractors and things that reminded him of his early farm days. How can you be disheartened having known a man like that. So I wiped away the tears.
John lives in all of the memories that linger in our hearts and minds. He lives in a better place. I can’t help but think that John will reach down occassionally to nudge the ones he loves in a positive way. So I wiped away the tears.
I will not say good-bye because I know we will meet again. That thought consoles me and once and for all, I wipe away the tears.
Love,
Dad

A catchy song from my childhood keeps racing through my head to the lyrics “Beardstown Ladies sing your song, doo-dah, doo-dah”. I don’t know why! Perhaps it has something to do with the subject of investment clubs and a group of elderly female statesmen from Beardstown, Illinois (a bunch of old broads) racing toward their goal of getting rich. I think the original song was “Camp Town Races”.
As most of you know, Christopher organized a group of buddies from work along with a few “outsiders” to form an investment group called the “9-Wannabees”. It is not difficult to figure out the intent of the group name. They all “wannabee rich”. More about how Chris’ group is working out in a minute.
Back to Beardstown. In 1983, 15 women from Beardstown, Illinois organized an investment group called cleverly “The Beardstown Ladies”. They were mostly retired school teachers, home-makers, bank employees and farmers. There were a few actively employed insurance agents and real-estate sales reps. They met monthly and each contributed $25 per month. For those of you who don’t know stock market history, 1983 was the beginning of a 17 year good bull run with stocks averaging over 20% growth per year compounded. These wise old ladies probably could have picked stock by throwing darts at a dartboard and been successful. In the year 1991 they grew their fortunes by over 59%. Incredible numbers. When they met, they shared research of potential new stock purchases. They ate cake and baked dishes that they brought along. They talked. They ate. They talked. They ate. Did I mention they talked. It was like an old fashioned quilting bee and they were making money besides.
In 1994, a newspaper reporter found out about the successful investing of the Beardstown Ladies and got a few of them scheduled for the Donahue Show in New York. The rest is history. They became famous and have now published several books. The first book called the “Beardstown Ladies” sold over 500,000 copies. Not only were they making money on investing but now they were making it on selling books and also being paid for personal appearances. Could life get any better.
Well it turns out that the investment returns were not quite a good as people thought. The Beardstown Ladies were not real good with math and they included the $25 per month they were each investing in club as “investment return”. You can’t do that. That is like Deb investing $10 one month and when she invests $10 the next month, she calculates 100% rate of return. They is no return on her investment, she has just set aside $20. So the Beardstown Ladies got it wrong. Never-the-less, they were still very successful and they will tell you it was the best thing they ever did.
In my view, an investment club is a way to (1)save money on a regular basis, (2)learn about the stock market, (3)make investments that hopefully lead to solid growth of your investments, (4)share stock research with others, and (5)did I mention having fun.
Chris’ investment group (9-wannabees) started in January of 2003 and it invests money on a weekly basis so that parting with the money is easier because it is small chunks. After 2.5 years, one member has dropped out and the club has picked up a few new members. I think there are now 10 members called “the 9-Wannabees”. Huh! There are about 14-15 different stocks owned by the club. There have been winners and losers. After the first two years, the average annual return to the club was over 10%. The biggest winner is Sunoco which was purchased at two different times and on a $2000 investment is worth over $4000. Now listen to this, Sunoco sponsors NASCAR racing in a big way and one of the members figured that of all the oil companies we could buy, Sunoco might have an advantage. Hey! It worked.
Investment clubs can be formed in many ways. With todays computers, electronic communication is a an “instant away”. Families could form investment clubs. Your mom has suggest forming an Andrews family investment club, pooling money and learning together. Silly! Silly!
Investment clubs can be interesting but they are not for everyone. There can be some very heated meetings especially when there are strong personalities involved.
Beardstown Ladies worked.
9-Wannabees is working.
Just thoughts!
Love,
Dad (Just Chas.)

To make up for all the times I did not read my kids a bedtime story, this is for you.
Once upon a time in the Kingdom of Oz there was a pretty teenage girl named Addie who lived in a small village called Plymouth. She lived above a tavern in less than privledged conditions. She dreamed of more. Maybe she was switched at birth because she always felt like she destined for something better. Royality maybe?
Around her 18th birthday, word spread throughout the Kingdom that Cheese Derby Day was coming and they were looking for a Queen. The pretty girl, saw her chance. If she could get elected Queen, she could claim her rightful throne and everyone in the Kingdom could see she belonged. But how do you get elected?
Lo and behold, it turns out that there were 3 consultants ready to help her. One was her step-grandfather Chuck Andes along with his comrades Rolly Leonhart and Al Ratke. The acronym for this consultanting group was CAR (Chuck, Al, and Rolly). Their name could have been “Frick, Frack, and Fruck” or the “Three Stooges”. They preferred CAR. It turns out that all teenage contestants for Queen had to sell $1 dollar buttons. The one that sold the most buttons would be Queen.
Well sir, The CAR group knew every tavern in OZ. They traveled far and wide in the Kingdom to frequent as many “bars” as possible. And, they sold buttons! Did they sell buttons? It turns out the more they drank, the more buttons they sold. They drank themselves to a victory for the pretty teenager. She won. Addie was the official “Cheese Derby Day Queen”. Finally, she would claim her rightful throne.
When Cheese Derby Day arrived, all of the Kingdom of Oz was alive. The subjects were all there. A parade began and Queen Addie was the royal representative. She had reached her dream. She sat on the top of the back seat of the longest Cadillac in the Kingdom. She was beautiful. Her dress was made with magic thread and it glowed. Angel dust was sprinkled in her hair to create a halo effect. She wore her sparkling tiara. The subjects waved. Queen Addie smiled and waved. She belonged here.
I don’t know if the consulting group CAR watched the parade. As far as I know, they were in some bar still selling buttons and probably celebrating. They should not be forgotten.
And then it was over. The next day arrived and Queen Addie wondered what would happen now. She had a trophy and lots of pictures. It was intoxicating. How could she ever go back to her life above the tavern? But wait! She remembered that her Queen title was for a year and her dream would go on. For that matter, just like in the Wizard of OZ, the royality was always within her. It would be there forever. She would always be a Queen to the people who know her.
The Kingdom rejoiced and everybody lived happily ever after.
So you see Grasshoppers, to achieve your dreams just look within yourself and reach for the brass ring. You can make almost anything happen. Just like Addie. You will have to find your own consultants.
Love,
Dad (Just Chas.)

Alice Helen (Stiller) Andrews. She was my mom. She could be soft, insightful and caring. She could be tough. She was a survivor.
My sister Addie asked why I hadn’t written about Alice. Alice has been on my “short list” of intended subjects. A recent discussion with Addie brought back memories of the difficult time when my Dad died unexpectedly at age 37 with a family including 4 children. I was the oldest at 17 and a senior in high school. Jack was 14 going on 21. Addie was 13 and Jerry Lee (he never liked having the “Lee” in his name) was 11.
Alice herself was 35 years old. She had a job at Plymouth Industrial Products located at the end of Mill Street and ran equipment making black plastic injection molded products. It was hot around the equipment and “black”. If you’ve ever been around black powdery high density polyethylene or propolene, it is insidious. It permeates every pore in the body. She hated the job but she knew the family needed the income. She always dreamed of moving into an office position with opportunity for personal growth and obviously more money. It remained a dream!
When my dad died the family had nothing. I mean nothing. No life insurance policy. No savings. The biggest asset the family had was the 1956 two-tone, black and white Dodge automobile. It became an asset because the loan was automatically paid when he died. There was not enought money to bury Bucky.
So put yourself in Alice’s place. Four kids. No money. A job she hated. Alone! Her biggest support group was her mother-in-law who owned the City Club where we lived and her mother, dad, and younger brother “Big Jerry”. Her Mom and Dad lived in northern Wisconsin near Cable, Wisconsin so they were not really active in her life.
Funerals are an interesting phenomena. Immediately after Bucky died, we were surrounded by family, friends and acquaintances. There is a swirl of activity. And then? And then, there is empty, cold reality. All the friends that you expect to stop by to visit never really did. The reality that you have to figure out how to survive sets in.
Alice never shared any self doubts. She never waivered as she went about supporting her family. Her dislike for the plastic molding job got greater because she didn’t feel she had any options. Her dreams of a different job faded.
When you talk of successful characters in life, Alice is at the top of my list. She raised four children without help and they all were successful in their own ways. She found a way. We found a way.
As Alice was placed in this impossible position of being mom and provider, she toughened. My children do not know her as a “warm fuzzy” but more as an interesting character. She became a champion of the underdog. She silently rooted for my daughter Debbie, Valerie Klokow, Johnny Andrews and somehow my brother Jack always made that list. And there were more. It didn’t mean she loved others in her life less, it was just that she knew how difficult life could be and if she perceived you had been dealt a “bad hand”, she would be there to support you.
My wish was that Alice would someday find a companion in life that appreciated her qualities and would finally take care of her. It never happened and she ended up fighting right to the end.
All I can say is that I know what she accomplished. She really is my hero. Thank you mom. You did it!
Love,
Just Chas.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t spend time on cottage life. The first cottage was a “starter, fixer-upper” located at 492 Bay Road. It was on the edge of Lilly Bay sheltered from cool breezes. The beach had some sandy parts but weeds were everywhere. We had a short pier and a row boat. Looking straight out from our beach about 100 yards there was a sandbar just a foot or two below the surface of the water. There were many occasions when a speed boat would come around the island at full speed not knowing about the sand bar. Their engine would go from a throaty roar to putt, putt, putt and then nothing. To my knowledge, the sandbar was never marked to alert boaters but it was a constant source of entertainment.
I know I immediately had a new well system installed so we had good drinking water. I didn’t plan that when we bought the cottage.
The next spring we had a sliding door system installed to open up the cottage to the patio. Then it was patio furniture and later we had the kitchen remodeled to be “functional”. I hadn’t planned that when we bought the cottage.
Along the way, Grandpa George built the 10 foot square raft. That was special. I hadn’t planned on installing a raft.
Did I mention we bought a little red boat. Chris and I went to Sheboygan Falls answering an ad for a family speed boat. It was fiberglas with a 65 horsepower Mercury engine. We didn’t know it but the transom holding the engine had been damaged and was a weak part of the boat. We bought the boat, motor and trailer for $1400. I hadn’t planned that either when I bought the cottage.
After a couple of years, it was obvious that our little red boat was an embarrassment to lake royality and one summer afternoon I got a call from Chris and your Mom. They were looking at a gold flecked Glasstron 15 foot ski-boat at a local Sheboygan dealer and for $2700 and trade, we could step up in quality. I can’t believe Chris conned your Mom into looking at boats and I don’t believe that I would leave work to investigate. Mom looked, I paid and Chris got every kids dream. I must have been temporarily insane. I didn’t plan this when we bought the cottage.
Did I mention the gas for the boat. Plastic containers held 6 gallons of gas and I bought extra containers to make sure that everytime I went to the lake I had 10-12 gallons for my pleasure. You kids used most of it. But I kept buying more. Talk about stupid!I didn’t plan that when I bought the cottage.
The cottage tweeked everybody’s fantasy. It represent a place to take friends and proved to be a base for swimming, water skiing, wake jumping, and sunburn. It was a constant source of new experiences. Our dog Pepsi almost drown because she was too stupid to swim back to our shore. Kelly had to save her. Our little red boat sunk during a rain storm and Grandpa George loaned me a pump to get it raised out of the water. Kelly would bicylce from Sheboygan to the cottage to get in shape for the coming Marching Band season at UW. And parties. Some I encouraged. Some I didn’t know about. I do know that someone walked through my sliding screen door to the patio and threw beer cans on the neighbor’s roof for everyone to see.
After all these experiences and many unplanned expenditures, you’d think I’d learned my lesson. But no! We bought another cottage and for a while owned two places on Crystal lake. Imagine that. We eventually moved up to the east side. I hadn’t planned that when I bought the first cottage.
Would I do it again? In a heartbeat. If you think about it Grasshoppers, you all took some form of emotional ownership of the cottage and had a role in making it family fun. Good memories still linger.
I’ll continue the journey next time! Help me!
Love,
Dad

Having owned a cottage or Condo for 25 years, Memorial Day has always signaled the beginning of the summer. For just a moment yesterday, I found myself missing the excitement of buying groceries to stock up the empty cottage shelves. The boat had to be serviced so that it would withstand kids running WFO (that is Christophers acronym for “wide fr—— open”). I guess that means as fast as you can make a ski boat go. I missed the smell of oil belching from the outboard engine as it started up. There is a smell to the water as the wind blows off the lake. Some people think it is heaven.
The first cottage was a “chance happening”. Your mother and I had driven to St. Anna to watch the older kids march in the Top Hats or the Elms Band or both in the Fireman Picnic Parade. Of course our kids were standouts. On the way home, Mom and I and I think Paul, stopped to look at a cottage that had been advertised in the Sheboygan Press. It was at the edge of a bay and the 60 feet of lake frontage was not all that attractive. The people selling the cottage had built it while he was employed at Kohler and it was crude to say the least. But it was priced right. $30,000. Having priced other properties, it was a fantastic price. We shook hands. This was mid-July. We closed on the property the first week in September, 1977. On the day of the closing, the previous owners said they had been offered $35,000 by a couple who looked at the property after us on that Sunday in July. Their comment was “a handshake seals a deal and they never waived in their commitment to us”. Whoa! Now we owned a cottage and had no clue what to do with it. Swim, fish, fry-out and sun-bath? Debbie would have been almost 17, Kelly 15, Chris 13 and Paul 5. Margaret was there. She just wasn’t born until October 21, 1977. So we had old kids, young kids and an unborn kid.
There was lots of excitement. Grampa George loved the idea of our cottage and ended up building us a raft the next year. Not any raft. A 10 foot square treated wood raft that got lots of use.
I guess the idea of a cottage went back to the childhood of your mom and I who lived in Plymouth but had friends whose families owned cottages. Also, all swimming lessions were conducted at the Crystal Isle Inn on Crystal Lake. It was a 15 minute bus ride from Plymouth to Crystal. I’d take the bus to the lake and then skip out of lessons and swim on my own. There were no city public swimming pools in Plymouth.
So when Memorial Day comes I get just a little nostalgic. Then I remember all the work that goes with ownership and I come back to my senses. I will say it was one of the best investments we every made. Cottages do not go down in value.
I remember Christopher seeing our new house on Wedgewood Drive. His first question “did I know what I was doing buying a bigger house”? The second question was “if you were going to spend more on a house, why wouldn’t you buy a place on a lake because it would be a better investment”? Maybe Chris’ observation was really good or maybe he was looking for a place to moor his new boat.
I’m sure every one in our family has good memories of Crystal Lake. It created a common interest. I’m sure there are many stories I haven’t heard. I invite your sharing your memories. There are no regrets on the “chance investment”.
Let the summer begin!
Love,
Dad