(Editor’s note: This is the first in a two-part series about the supernatural goings-on in northern Oconto County.) Following up on my column about the Holt and Balcom Logging Camp in Lakewood, I begin by saying I used to be agnostic about ghosts, goblins, witches and such. Maybe they existed; maybe they didn’t. Truth be told, haunted houses and horror movies have always creeped me out, though I love the ghost scene in the George C.

This March morning, the sun is taking its time climbing over the horizon. The flowage is glistening, covered in a new sheet of ice formed by recently melted snow that has frozen to form a huge ice rink. It is a spectacular sunrise, breathtakingly beautiful.

If it’s March, Holt and Balcom Logging Camp Museum in Lakewood is preparing for another year. As director, I’ll be meeting with curator Bob Brown and camp manager Dave Zuleger to plan our 2025 season, which includes field trips where hundreds of area fourth graders come for a hands-on experience in Wisconsin logging history.

We are quickly approaching the six-week vigil Christians call Lent. March 5 is Ash Wednesday. I fully appreciate this is a solemn and holy season, a time of penance and atonement.

My Kirby Omega Classic celebrated its 50th birthday right before Christmas. It’s old and past its prime, but it still does the job, just like my husband, Jon. It cost me a month’s salary, but my uncle was a Kirby salesman, so it was part family loyalty and part buy-the-best-you-can-afford. I have a newer one for the main level, but the Omega is all Jon’s for vacuuming his dead animals room downstairs. I met Jon 42 years ago on Feb. 4, 1983.

Commemorating Martin Luther King Day always takes me back to 1964 when I was a freshman at Mount Mary College in Milwaukee. A first-class academic institution, MMC was also a “finishing school” for pampered girls from wealthy families. Could a dairy farmer’s daughter fit in? I was about to find out. From the day I failed at driving a tractor, I was determined to go to college. I worked hard at St.