Sam’s Place is an old Quonset hut on the shore of Iron Lake just north of Aurora. It’s divided by an interior wall. The back has a small living area-kitchen, bathroom, table, bunk. The front is set up for preparing food and serving it through a couple of windows to customers outside. I’ve got a griddle for burgers and hot dogs and such, a hot-oil well for deep fry, a shake machine, a carbonated-drink dispenser, a large freezer. Pretty simple fare. In season, I do a fine business.

It’s called Sam’s Place after the man who made it what it is-Sam Winter Moon. When my father died, Sam gave me a hand in a lot of unselfish ways. I grew up working summers at Sam’s Place, advised and gently guided by Sam as I stumbled my way into manhood. When Sam died, he passed the place to me.

The Quonset hut houses my livelihood, but it also holds part of my heart. So many good memories from my adolescence involve the smell of a hot griddle coupled with the drumroll of Sam’s easy laugh. Several years into my marriage, when my wife and I were having serious trouble and my life was at its darkest point, I lived at Sam’s Place. It was a haven. In recent years, my children have worked beside me there, earning their spending money, learning lessons about business and people that I believe will serve them well.

I’ve been sheriff of Tamarack County twice. The first time was for seven years, at the end of which the constituency removed me in a recall election that resulted both from my own inadequacies and from things beyond my control.