Remembering and honoring those lost
Don McInnis
Kids are great judges of character. Don had four daughters who, years ago, gleefully chased his Jimmy up the driveway every evening. Don welcomed the attack, always. Even after 12-hour days at the pharmacy, he lifted the littlest ones up, carried them into the house with the other two trailing, and, at their insistence, bumped their heads on the ceiling over and over until they slumped into a heap of giggles.
Later in life, his grandsons took over the onslaught, climbing on Don's head as he worked crossword puzzles, yelling knock-knock jokes in his ear, and spilling entire bottles of bubbles on him. He would shake his fist and utter, “Why I oughta!” or “How’d you like a knuckle samwich?” and they’d revel in it, go back for more.
This is the man Carol fell in love with back in 1965. Of course, she had little brothers who tried to get as much time in with Don as they could on their dates. But still, from the beginning, Don managed to show his love for Carol in small ways. When he proposed to her, he took the ring out and said… nothing. Later in their life together, when he came home from work late to dried-out pork chops that Carol affectionately kept warm for him, he’d actually eat them, often adding a flattering, “It’ll pass.”
But Christmas -- now that really brought out the romance in Don. One Christmas season, Don had his eye on a pricey necklace for Carol and slapped down a wad of cash on the jewelry counter at JC Penney. “Dad, where’d you get that?” one of his daughters asked. “Sold my chain saw,” he said.
The best judge of anyone’s character, though, is his mother. Lil, like her son, had her own special way of showing she cares. Don was in his sixties, and Lil was still knitting socks for her little boy -- bright bulky ones that Don wore every single day of his life. He wore them in church, gardening, hunting, and, as a boy, trudging back from the neighbor's carrying heavy pails of water, claiming his arms were two inches longer.
Don worked hard even after his family got a house with running water. In order to earn money for college, he went to Chicago and worked on the railroad all the live-long day. He worked as a janitor in his dorm, and used his money wisely-- he didn’t buy a single textbook, just went to the library to read them. This was a man who could recite all the presidents of the U.S. chronologically, along with their respective political parties. He graduated with honors from Ferris Institute in 1959. His dad, a much admired schoolteacher who passed away while Don was in college, would have been very proud.
Don's dad instilled in him a love of the outdoors, and Don fished and hunted his whole life. When he was a boy, he worked a whole summer in his dad’s woods as an aspiring lumberjack to earn his first .22. And that .22 must have started something, because Don eventually became well-known as a gunsmith -- cleaning everyone’s guns, restoring old rifles, and building guns from kits. He was a champion skeet shooter and known for his marksmanship as a duck hunter, earning the debatably honorable title of "Coot Shooter." When the stroke impaired his vision and balance, Don still went to the hunting camps of friends Jerry Potvin, Dan Madalinski, and Jim Aird, performing indispensable duties like keg attendant and resident cribbage opponent.
As his friends will tell you, Don’s attitude was great, even after his brain tumor diagnosis in the fall of 2003. He told one of his daughters while driving to a radiation treatment, “I’m not one of these guys that’s gonna get mad at God and say it’s not fair. I’ve had a good life.” And his daughters have the memories to prove it.
Kids are great judges of character. Don had four daughters who, years ago, gleefully chased his Jimmy up the driveway every evening. Don welcomed the attack, always. Even after 12-hour days at the pharmacy, he lifted the littlest ones up, carried them into the house with the other two trailing, and, at their insistence, bumped their heads on the ceiling over and over until they slumped into a heap of giggles.
Later in life, his grandsons took over the onslaught, climbing on Don's head as he worked crossword puzzles, yelling knock-knock jokes in his ear, and spilling entire bottles of bubbles on him. He would shake his fist and utter, “Why I oughta!” or “How’d you like a knuckle samwich?” and they’d revel in it, go back for more.
This is the man Carol fell in love with back in 1965. Of course, she had little brothers who tried to get as much time in with Don as they could on their dates. But still, from the beginning, Don managed to show his love for Carol in small ways. When he proposed to her, he took the ring out and said… nothing. Later in their life together, when he came home from work late to dried-out pork chops that Carol affectionately kept warm for him, he’d actually eat them, often adding a flattering, “It’ll pass.”
But Christmas -- now that really brought out the romance in Don. One Christmas season, Don had his eye on a pricey necklace for Carol and slapped down a wad of cash on the jewelry counter at JC Penney. “Dad, where’d you get that?” one of his daughters asked. “Sold my chain saw,” he said.
The best judge of anyone’s character, though, is his mother. Lil, like her son, had her own special way of showing she cares. Don was in his sixties, and Lil was still knitting socks for her little boy -- bright bulky ones that Don wore every single day of his life. He wore them in church, gardening, hunting, and, as a boy, trudging back from the neighbor's carrying heavy pails of water, claiming his arms were two inches longer.
Don worked hard even after his family got a house with running water. In order to earn money for college, he went to Chicago and worked on the railroad all the live-long day. He worked as a janitor in his dorm, and used his money wisely-- he didn’t buy a single textbook, just went to the library to read them. This was a man who could recite all the presidents of the U.S. chronologically, along with their respective political parties. He graduated with honors from Ferris Institute in 1959. His dad, a much admired schoolteacher who passed away while Don was in college, would have been very proud.
Don's dad instilled in him a love of the outdoors, and Don fished and hunted his whole life. When he was a boy, he worked a whole summer in his dad’s woods as an aspiring lumberjack to earn his first .22. And that .22 must have started something, because Don eventually became well-known as a gunsmith -- cleaning everyone’s guns, restoring old rifles, and building guns from kits. He was a champion skeet shooter and known for his marksmanship as a duck hunter, earning the debatably honorable title of "Coot Shooter." When the stroke impaired his vision and balance, Don still went to the hunting camps of friends Jerry Potvin, Dan Madalinski, and Jim Aird, performing indispensable duties like keg attendant and resident cribbage opponent.
As his friends will tell you, Don’s attitude was great, even after his brain tumor diagnosis in the fall of 2003. He told one of his daughters while driving to a radiation treatment, “I’m not one of these guys that’s gonna get mad at God and say it’s not fair. I’ve had a good life.” And his daughters have the memories to prove it.
Sue Anderson
Sue first proclaimed her love to John, her husband of 35 years, via an urgent, priority, long distance call to John’s ore boat a few months after they started dating. John ran to receive the call, frantic and nervous, as communication to the boat was reserved for urgent notifications of all things bad. Instead when he reached the phone, he heard the sappy, liquid courage filled words from Sue on her 21st birthday: “I love you, John Anderson” and on and on she poured out her heart to the man she loved and missed so. John was far too happy to hear these words to tell Sue his ore boat did not have a telephone receiver, but rather a radio speaker that clearly carried Sue’s heartfelt words to each and every crew member’s ears. The spontaneous, passion filled proclamation filled John’s heart, and a marriage proposal and wedding followed soon after his return to shore.
A very short time later, Sue began fulfilling her life’s purpose – bearing and raising children. At the sight of their first son, Sue cried tears of joy, and so did John - after he got sick in the bathroom, that is.
John always said Sue was most beautiful when she was pregnant…perhaps that’s why she was pregnant six times. She unselfishly dedicated her life to her children, never missing a game, a Christmas program or a parent teacher conference. The Anderson home was hectic, chaotic, crazy, and fun. Sue’s welcoming personality and phenomenal cooking made her home a gathering place for family and friends. Those who entered Sue’s home rarely left without a hug and a full stomach.
Sue was known simply as “Mi Mi” to eight blessed grandchildren, whom she adored. Reading to them and rocking them to sleep in her big green recliner filled both her heart and theirs for the past 15 years. She loved to bake them her famous chocolate chip cookies, and every year they proudly flaunted their new scarves and sweaters with a tag inscribed “made by Grandma with love”.
You could always count on Sue if you wanted to have fun. She loved to dance, and was the center of the circle at every family wedding party as John faultlessly requested “Runaround Sue” be played. Sue also loved to take yearly trips to Mexico and Chicago with her family. Cherished family memories were made on these trips and will always be held dear. In her empty nest years, Sue continued to nurture as she cared for her Mother and Mother In Law. She also enjoyed volunteering at church and hanging with her Curves crew.
In these words and pictures we remember our beloved Mother, Wife, Sister, and friend. We are responsible to tell Sue and Don’s stories, to carry on their traditions of love, and to do what they would do if they were here with us now….help others enduring brain tumor treatment.
Sue first proclaimed her love to John, her husband of 35 years, via an urgent, priority, long distance call to John’s ore boat a few months after they started dating. John ran to receive the call, frantic and nervous, as communication to the boat was reserved for urgent notifications of all things bad. Instead when he reached the phone, he heard the sappy, liquid courage filled words from Sue on her 21st birthday: “I love you, John Anderson” and on and on she poured out her heart to the man she loved and missed so. John was far too happy to hear these words to tell Sue his ore boat did not have a telephone receiver, but rather a radio speaker that clearly carried Sue’s heartfelt words to each and every crew member’s ears. The spontaneous, passion filled proclamation filled John’s heart, and a marriage proposal and wedding followed soon after his return to shore.
A very short time later, Sue began fulfilling her life’s purpose – bearing and raising children. At the sight of their first son, Sue cried tears of joy, and so did John - after he got sick in the bathroom, that is.
John always said Sue was most beautiful when she was pregnant…perhaps that’s why she was pregnant six times. She unselfishly dedicated her life to her children, never missing a game, a Christmas program or a parent teacher conference. The Anderson home was hectic, chaotic, crazy, and fun. Sue’s welcoming personality and phenomenal cooking made her home a gathering place for family and friends. Those who entered Sue’s home rarely left without a hug and a full stomach.
Sue was known simply as “Mi Mi” to eight blessed grandchildren, whom she adored. Reading to them and rocking them to sleep in her big green recliner filled both her heart and theirs for the past 15 years. She loved to bake them her famous chocolate chip cookies, and every year they proudly flaunted their new scarves and sweaters with a tag inscribed “made by Grandma with love”.
You could always count on Sue if you wanted to have fun. She loved to dance, and was the center of the circle at every family wedding party as John faultlessly requested “Runaround Sue” be played. Sue also loved to take yearly trips to Mexico and Chicago with her family. Cherished family memories were made on these trips and will always be held dear. In her empty nest years, Sue continued to nurture as she cared for her Mother and Mother In Law. She also enjoyed volunteering at church and hanging with her Curves crew.
In these words and pictures we remember our beloved Mother, Wife, Sister, and friend. We are responsible to tell Sue and Don’s stories, to carry on their traditions of love, and to do what they would do if they were here with us now….help others enduring brain tumor treatment.
Amy Chenier Kositzke
Faced with a terminal brain tumor diagnosis in 2005, Amy Chenier Kositzke showed up at the First Annual Walk in the Park to do something about it. Her mother, Nancy Chenier, recalls "Amy never complained throughout her five-year struggle.” Instead, Amy faced her diagnosis “with hope and her constant upbeat attitude and smile." Amy shared that upbeat attitude and smile with hundreds of people at Walk in the Park over the years. We whole-heartedly dedicate the 2010 Walk in the Park to her memory.
From the start, Amy refused to let a tumor stand in the way of the things she loved. She enjoyed the outdoors and set out hiking and rock-collecting whenever she had the opportunity. Amy liked the way the world looked through a camera lens, and was an accomplished photographer.
Amy’s outlook was positive from the very beginning. A note in her baby book reflects her parents’ amazement at that smile of hers, present even in the earliest pages of her life. “A gift from God,” they said.
In her youth, Amy felt a calling to help those in need. When she was in the sixth grade and the other students were bullying another girl in her class, Amy boldly stood up for her. The girl’s mother never forgot Amy's kindness.
As an adult, Amy continued to reach out to others. A devout Roman Catholic, Amy was very active in her church – St. Anne’s in Escanaba. She taught religious education at All Saints Church in Gladstone, was a member of "Yahweh's Yoopers" – a Catholic group providing encouragement to youth, and enjoyed working with the youth of the church in many roles.
Amy’s cheerful disposition and desire to help those in need were a perfect fit for her chosen profession as a special education teacher. She earned a Master’s Degree in the special education field from NMU in 2001. She taught at Gladstone Middle School for the last nine years, her love for her work enabling her to continue teaching through the challenges of her illness.
In November of 2008, Amy found another perfect fit – she married Todd Kositzke in a beautiful ceremony at St. Anne’s Catholic Church in Escanaba. Amy first met Todd as she was preparing to remodel her new home. He sold carpeting and the rest is history. Todd stood by Amy with true devotion and care. Amy loved him right back, keeping the hope for a cure in her prayers.
We’d like to thank Amy’s husband, parents, and extended family for supporting the search for a cure through Walk in the Park during Amy’s journey. We will miss her warm, genuine smile, and the personality that matched it.
Faced with a terminal brain tumor diagnosis in 2005, Amy Chenier Kositzke showed up at the First Annual Walk in the Park to do something about it. Her mother, Nancy Chenier, recalls "Amy never complained throughout her five-year struggle.” Instead, Amy faced her diagnosis “with hope and her constant upbeat attitude and smile." Amy shared that upbeat attitude and smile with hundreds of people at Walk in the Park over the years. We whole-heartedly dedicate the 2010 Walk in the Park to her memory.
From the start, Amy refused to let a tumor stand in the way of the things she loved. She enjoyed the outdoors and set out hiking and rock-collecting whenever she had the opportunity. Amy liked the way the world looked through a camera lens, and was an accomplished photographer.
Amy’s outlook was positive from the very beginning. A note in her baby book reflects her parents’ amazement at that smile of hers, present even in the earliest pages of her life. “A gift from God,” they said.
In her youth, Amy felt a calling to help those in need. When she was in the sixth grade and the other students were bullying another girl in her class, Amy boldly stood up for her. The girl’s mother never forgot Amy's kindness.
As an adult, Amy continued to reach out to others. A devout Roman Catholic, Amy was very active in her church – St. Anne’s in Escanaba. She taught religious education at All Saints Church in Gladstone, was a member of "Yahweh's Yoopers" – a Catholic group providing encouragement to youth, and enjoyed working with the youth of the church in many roles.
Amy’s cheerful disposition and desire to help those in need were a perfect fit for her chosen profession as a special education teacher. She earned a Master’s Degree in the special education field from NMU in 2001. She taught at Gladstone Middle School for the last nine years, her love for her work enabling her to continue teaching through the challenges of her illness.
In November of 2008, Amy found another perfect fit – she married Todd Kositzke in a beautiful ceremony at St. Anne’s Catholic Church in Escanaba. Amy first met Todd as she was preparing to remodel her new home. He sold carpeting and the rest is history. Todd stood by Amy with true devotion and care. Amy loved him right back, keeping the hope for a cure in her prayers.
We’d like to thank Amy’s husband, parents, and extended family for supporting the search for a cure through Walk in the Park during Amy’s journey. We will miss her warm, genuine smile, and the personality that matched it.
Bob Fouts
Bob Fouts was born on Dec. 13, 1936, in Oak Park, Ill., and was the son of Russell and Sara (McMulin) Fouts. Bob graduated from high school and then attended Northern Illinois University in DeKalb, Ill., receiving a business degree. He married the former Judith L. Willgeroth on July 23, 1983, in Chicago.
Bob and his wife Judy moved from the Chicago area to Escanaba in the year 2000. They came to Escanaba to enjoy the beautiful sailing opportunities and to have a quieter lifestyle offered by a small town.
Bob's great passion since childhood was sailing. At age 9, he attached a sail to a raft he had built and sailed across a neighborhood pond. He owned a succession of boats until 1979, when he bought his Morgan 34. Over the years, he modified and improved the boat.
In 1992, the couple quit their jobs and sailed the Morgan through the Caribbean to South America, up the East Coast, and back to Chicago.
The cruise took two years. Four years later, they sold their house in Illinois and left on a second trip, cruising the Bahamas, East Coast, Great Lakes, and back to Escanaba. Here they built a home doing much of the work themselves.
Cars were another hobby for Bob. He was able to buy his dream car, an Avanti, which he restored completing a great deal of the work himself.
He was a member of the Avanti Owners Association and the Studebaker Drivers Club.
Throughout the years, Bob was employed by several Chicago-based companies.
His last position was with Ricoh America Corp., where he was involved with technical media. He was instrumental in writing training and operation manuals for printing presses, copy and fax machines. He always felt he was so fortunate that he enjoyed what he was doing and liked going to work.
Bob passed away on July 15, 2012, at his home. He will be remembered for his knowledge of boats and sailing. He was always ready to share his skills and help other boaters. Bob was a past member of the Escanaba Yacht Club and served two terms on the Harbor Advisory Commission, and also was a long-time member of the Jackson Park Yacht Club in Chicago and served as commodore. He is greatly missed by his family and friends.
Bob Fouts was born on Dec. 13, 1936, in Oak Park, Ill., and was the son of Russell and Sara (McMulin) Fouts. Bob graduated from high school and then attended Northern Illinois University in DeKalb, Ill., receiving a business degree. He married the former Judith L. Willgeroth on July 23, 1983, in Chicago.
Bob and his wife Judy moved from the Chicago area to Escanaba in the year 2000. They came to Escanaba to enjoy the beautiful sailing opportunities and to have a quieter lifestyle offered by a small town.
Bob's great passion since childhood was sailing. At age 9, he attached a sail to a raft he had built and sailed across a neighborhood pond. He owned a succession of boats until 1979, when he bought his Morgan 34. Over the years, he modified and improved the boat.
In 1992, the couple quit their jobs and sailed the Morgan through the Caribbean to South America, up the East Coast, and back to Chicago.
The cruise took two years. Four years later, they sold their house in Illinois and left on a second trip, cruising the Bahamas, East Coast, Great Lakes, and back to Escanaba. Here they built a home doing much of the work themselves.
Cars were another hobby for Bob. He was able to buy his dream car, an Avanti, which he restored completing a great deal of the work himself.
He was a member of the Avanti Owners Association and the Studebaker Drivers Club.
Throughout the years, Bob was employed by several Chicago-based companies.
His last position was with Ricoh America Corp., where he was involved with technical media. He was instrumental in writing training and operation manuals for printing presses, copy and fax machines. He always felt he was so fortunate that he enjoyed what he was doing and liked going to work.
Bob passed away on July 15, 2012, at his home. He will be remembered for his knowledge of boats and sailing. He was always ready to share his skills and help other boaters. Bob was a past member of the Escanaba Yacht Club and served two terms on the Harbor Advisory Commission, and also was a long-time member of the Jackson Park Yacht Club in Chicago and served as commodore. He is greatly missed by his family and friends.