Sue Mills served a 23-year stint as director of the Greater Lansing Arts Council, until she retired in 2005 at age 65. Twenty years later, there’s no point in asking her what she does with her spare time.
Spare time?
From church events, local theater, Spartan sports and parks fundraising to brisk walks and a lively social life at her East Lansing condo, Mills, 84, is just as busy, if not busier, than she’s ever been.
Most recently, she was instrumental in the conversion of aging tennis courts at East Lansing’s Patriarche Park into state-of-the-art pickleball courts.
Decades of experience in grant writing and fundraising for the arts came in handy. As fund development chair, she led a 60-day push to raise $50,000 and qualify for a matching amount from the Michigan Economic Development Corp. in 2022.
Pickleball has boomed in the last several years, and it’s not uncommon to see people of all ages on the courts, not just seniors.
The park is now equipped with 10 pickleball courts, with fences around each court to keep balls in, wide walkways and individual entrances. The group went on to raise more money for surfacing, shade structures and other features.
“We’ve raised $206,000 from 215 different donors,” Mills said. “The support is really amazing. That’s taken up most of my time the last couple of years, and I absolutely loved doing it.”
Mills is also active in the Lansing Rotary Club and The People’s Church, where she has been a member for decades. She served on the church’s fine arts committee for 25 years, 18 of them as chairwoman. Each year, she chairs the church committee that works with the Michigan State University brass faculty and students to mount a holiday concert.
She enjoys helping older friends who no longer drive. Every Friday, she picks up a 99-year-old neighbor, Irv Nichols, whom she described as “really sharp,” and takes him to Rotary meetings.
“It’s kind of delightful,” she said.
She also loves drama and makes an effort to support local theater. She co-organized a group of 10 widows who go out to dinner and to every Williamston Theatre production. Smaller, informal groups go regularly to Purple Rose and Peppermint Creek productions.
Last week, Mills and her neighbors at The Greens condominium had a party (dubbed “The Women of The Greens”) to welcome a widow who recently moved in.
“I like to keep busy, keep thinking positively,” she said.
Mills has always been involved in athletics. She met her husband on the tennis court, and they both played competitively for years. She still goes to all the MSU football games and men’s basketball games, many of the women’s volleyball games and other sporting events.
“Living in a community like ours, with Michigan State, I hope I never have to leave,” she said. “Culturally, it’s great. There’s so much to do.”
She shifted from tennis to less strenuous pickleball years ago, after knee surgery, but she’s feeling so strong these days that she asked her surgeon if she could go back to tennis.
“He said it would be OK, but only if I play social doubles,” she said. “I told him I’m too competitive for that.”
— LAWRENCE COSENTINO
Personal faith, involvement in her church and generations of children and grandchildren are what keep Christine Johnson, mother of Hall of Fame basketball player Earvin “Magic” Johnson, motivated in life at age 89.
Johnson and her late husband, Earvin Johnson Sr., had 10 children. She is very clear about what continues to keep her grounded. “Christ is the foundation of my life,” she said. “Without him, I could not be who I am or what I am today.
“I have to thank my parents; they were Christian, and they brought us up in the church,” she added. “I have just kept growing, growing and growing. Still growing.”
Johnson’s church is Bethel Community Seventh-day Adventist on Bristol Street in Lansing, where she has been a deaconess and an elder, among many contributions. “We purchased a new church building six years ago, and it needed some remodeling, so I was involved in that,” she said. “I started a Bible study at our house, then as it continued to grow, we moved it to the church.
“I’m also involved with the children at the church. I love the children, and I really support them and want them to be successful.”
The accomplishments of Johnson’s own children are a source of great joy to her. “They’re not jealous of each other and always love and appreciate everyone. Larry started Brotherhood Against Drugs. My daughters are educators. They all have done really well, and I’m very proud of them.”
She continues to impart wisdom to this day. “Know who you are. Treat people the way that you want to be treated. Do your best and always respect others,” she said. “I always tell them to never run from a problem, but sit down and discuss things. I don’t treat any one of my children differently; I treat them all the same.”
Johnson said that while folks see Magic’s success, they don’t necessarily know what it took to get there.
“I taught my children how to work. When they got to high school, they wanted to work because we couldn’t afford to give them everything they wanted.
“Earvin set some goals for himself, like all of them, and worked toward them and has pretty much accomplished them. He’s just a person that loves people, and he’s a giving person. He saw how hard his daddy worked. He said, ‘I want to be a good businessman when I grow up, just like my dad.’
“Sometimes folks say, ‘Mrs. Johnson, I want to be like you one day.’ And I say, ‘Honey, you see the glory, but you don’t know the story.”
All of the younger people in her life, both at church and at home, continue to inspire Johnson.
“I love my children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren,” she said. “I want to stay around as long as I can to enjoy them. I go to exercise class twice a week and do things on my own, too. I just want to try and stay as healthy and active as I can.”
— STEVE UNDERWOOD
David Wiener retired from his longtime role as executive assistant to former Lansing mayors David Hollister and Tony Benavides in 2005, but his work in the community never ceased.
Today, Wiener, 84, serves as treasurer for both the South Side Community Coalition and Southwest Action Group — groups he helped establish in 2003 and 2018, respectively.
Since 2016, his efforts have primarily involved planning, fundraising and implementing a neighborhood revitalization campaign known as the Southwest Lansing Action Plan.
“I’m involved in looking for grant money and also trying to raise money through public donations. We have about four or five grants we’re utilizing right now and have about 100 people that give us small donations, plus a couple of larger donors,” he explained.
Over the past several years, these funds have paved the way for a new soccer field, tree planting and trail and facade improvements throughout south Lansing. Now, Wiener is working on “the final piece” of the Southwest Lansing Action Plan: building a new community center at the site of the former Pleasant Grove Elementary School, at the intersection of Pleasant Grove and Holmes roads.
“Our goal is to convert the school into community space, à la what Joan Nelson did at the Allen Neighborhood Center. That’s kind of a model for what we want to do there, where you’ll have a health center, a community kitchen, a food co-op and housing,” Wiener said.
By the end of the month, Wiener and his colleagues will review responses to a request for proposals to redevelop the property. They’ll choose the best path forward in conjunction with the Ingham County Land Bank, which owns the site.
“After looking at the building, the Land Bank decided that it couldn’t be saved. About a month ago, they finished taking it down and remediated the land. There’s now grass there. And that’s where we’re at right now. We’re very excited to take the next steps soon,” Wiener said.
Wiener doesn’t plan on taking his foot off the gas after that project is completed, however.
“It’s just been energizing to be able to be part of this in my old age and a nice way to continue work that I had done during my career with community groups,” he said. “I’m not working with all of them now, but it’s great to be able to really put my teeth into these two efforts in south Lansing.
“Eventually, I’m sure I will start to step back,” he added. “But I think the challenge for me and other members of our boards is to bring on younger people so we can pass the torch to the next generation.”
For those who may want to follow in his footsteps, Wiener suggested starting with topics or issues that they’re already interested in.
“Young people, especially, can use Google to get a taste of what’s happening. They can follow a group online, find a meeting and go out into the world and explore. Once you open your door and start meeting likeminded people, the rest sort of falls into place,” he said.
Wiener is proud of what he’s been able to help the city accomplish thus far, but he also notes that the work is “ongoing and never over.”
“In some respects, we’ve made great progress. In other cases, we still have major problems that have gotten worse,” he said. “But as people of goodwill, we have to continue to work together to protect and save our society and our democracy. And we all have a role to play, even if it’s just voting.”
— TYLER SCHNEIDER
Eugenia Arens sat on a small, wooden bench at the front of her sprawling farm property in Westphalia, splitting her attention between the large, heavy accordion dominating her frame and the tiny kitten lounging next to her.
“These were dropped off,” she said, pointing to another kitten exploring the yard. “I already had two, and the mother is expecting six more. I don’t want to have too many. But they seem to like music, so that’s good.”
Arens, 88, can often be found playing the accordion outside her house. She loves to bask in the natural scenery, from the various tree species dotting the property to the flowers in bloom along the driveway.
“To me, music and flowers are a little bit alike. They both make you feel good,” she said.
“So far, the neighbors haven’t complained. In fact, I walked around one time, playing in the woods and all over. The phone rang when I got home, and somebody said, ‘Do you take requests?’”
You may recognize Arens from Grand Ledge’s annual Island Art Fair, where she’s been playing accordion each year since its inception in 1974 — except for one year when she and her late husband, who died in 2022, were traveling Germany.
“I love every year. It’s a lot of fun,” she said. “I used to walk the whole island with my accordion and play and sing, and people would help me sing. When you play music, it’s nice to have someone interested. To just sit there alone doesn’t do it.”
Music has been integral to Arens’ life as long as she can remember. She would sing to her dolls when she was just 2 or 3 to help them go to sleep. She began playing the piano around 7 or 8 and picked up the accordion at 15 after her sister’s husband, who was serving abroad in the Army, sent one home from Germany.
“I picked it up one day and played ‘Goodnight, Irene” about 16 times,’ she said. “My sister said, ‘If I hear that one more time …’ I played it one more time. I was hooked.”
She taught herself how to play both instruments. She also plays the trombone, guitar and ukulele, though she said she’s “still practicing” those.
“I don’t take lessons. I don’t want to be told how to do it,” she said. “I play by ear. If you have enough luck to have the music, which I got from my mom and sisters, why not get some use out of it?”
One of nine children in her family, Arens has three adopted children of her own, plus a slew of grandchildren, great-grandchildren and one great-great-granddaughter. She enjoys teaching the younger generations how to play music — something she learned from her elders that she, in turn, intends to pass down as far as she can. One of her great-grandsons even plays the accordion.
“They all play musical instruments. That makes me proud,” she said.
Due to the importance she places on family, Arens has also taken an interest in genealogy. She even compiled a book of her research so her grandchildren, great-grandchildren and beyond will know where they came from.
“I think it’s important to know who you act like, who you look like,” she said. “My grandpa, I didn’t know it, but he played accordion. Why didn’t they tell me that? That’s important! And grandma played the organ. I didn’t know that stuff. That’s what these kids have to learn. They have to know stuff about my background that they’d never know otherwise. And they’re all interested.”
— NICOLE NOECHEL
He wouldn’t don his Tuesday Toolman garb again for another five days, but Ken Robertson, 81, of Bath, willingly wore his special work shirt and hat as he met with City Pulse on the north side of Lansing, a chance to display one of the finest accomplishments of the group he helped launch in 2010.
The Toolmen are volunteers who gather Tuesdays to construct entry ramps and install accessibility devices for Greater Lansing residents in need, more than 400 since they started. It seemed almost impossible that they could construct a ramp from this particular home’s deck to the ground, but Robertson and his team don’t give up easily. The project this past April compelled Mayor Andy Schor to pay a visit.
Did Robertson ever imagine doing work like this at 81, long after his retirement? “No, certainly not, although I can envision us keeping it up, because it’s just a fantastic group of guys, still plugging away after all these years. They all show up every Tuesday, and that’s what keeps it going.”
Toolmen take up more than just Tuesdays. “I also spend a couple of days preparing for each project,” said Robertson. He visits locations, takes measurements and speaks with clients. He inputs info into an AutoCAD program and engineers through challenges, often coming up with legal ramp plans when contractors have said it was impossible.
“He prepares material lists, cut sheets, and communicates this all to the volunteer team with a little bit of humor sprinkled on top,” said Emma Henry of the Capital Area Housing Partnership, which funds the group.
Robertson retired from the Michigan Transportation Department in1998 after 32 years. His wife died in 2002. Six months later, his house burned. “That really threw a monkey wrench in things,” he said.
Robertson drew on fellow parishioners at Bath United Methodist Church. “One of my church friends, Jerry Boyer, was just retiring, and he helped me. We did all the interior work on my house and carpentry work and got very close.”
They were already part of a group doing volunteer work for Habitat for Humanity. Then, in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina in 2005, they went to New Orleans to help rebuild. That was the first of five years of annual week-long trips there. “We had never done anything like that before, but we went down there and had just a fantastic experience,” he said. “It was the camaraderie with the group and the local community that really made me want to keep going back.”
When the group decided to focus on something more local, they discovered a growing program in Lansing that was designed to help elderly and low-income people with home safety and access, which would become the Toolmen.
“We’re a strange group. Jerry takes the lead on construction, but we really work ‘leaderlessly,’” he said, adding with a laugh, “and we pick on each other something fierce. It all goes back to the group dynamics. I get sucked in with people of similar minds and that inspires me.”
— STEVE UNDERWOOD
Doris Franklin spent 20 years working as an aide at a nursing home in Cleveland, supervising residents and helping with whatever else needed to be done, from making beds to taking temperatures and blood pressure readings. Though the 83-year-old retired in 2003 and moved to Lansing, she’s retained her passion for helping people.
Today, she’s a member of Lansing’s Hope Christian Ministries International, where she assists with outreach in addition to attending Sunday mass weekly. On the fourth Saturday of each month, she travels to the Waverly Place Apartments to help with the church’s Sow and Reap program, which provides ministry, food and games. She also participates in the church’s grandparent program, where she watches over church members’ children while they take some time for themselves.
“The new generations aren’t coming up the way we were brought up. The kids are raising their parents. So, you have to be able to be there with kids and tell them right from wrong,” Franklin said.
Other church members regard her as a mother figure — so much so that she’s earned the title “Mother Doris.”
“I'm probably about the oldest one in there,” she said. “When they call you ‘mother,’ they look up to you.”
Apart from volunteer work through the church, Franklin also helps out in classrooms at Dwight Ridge School of the Arts when she can.
“I'll read to the kids, the kids read to me. I don't do it often, just sometimes, because I got sick for a while,” she said. “When you get to be a certain age, things happen in your life. You never know what's wrong with you until you go to the doctor. Maybe something’s hurting, and when you go there, it might be okay, it might not. But I came out okay, and I was blessed.”
Franklin said that her generosity is inspired by the kindness she experienced in her youth.
“I was always taught you have to give back because when we were coming up, people always helped us,” she said. “Whatever I do, like going on trips with the church, volunteering or whatever, I never think the more about it. This is just something you do.”
When she’s not out bettering the community, Franklin enjoys shopping with her niece and sister and watching sports, from basketball and football to the Olympics. She ran and played basketball herself growing up.
When it comes to college athletics, she roots for Ohio State University. In the NBA, her favor is beginning to move toward the Detroit Pistons.
“They have a good team that's young, and the kids play hard out. They still don’t win, but I enjoy it,” she said.
- NICOLE NOECHEL
Walker Beverly spent 14 years of his quarter-century career with the Lansing School District at the former C.W. Otto Middle School, including several as its principal.
Now primarily vacant, the building is occasionally used for events like a STEM science fair his granddaughter participated in last fall. He attended the event to see her experiment win a prize but hadn’t been back until last week.
Standing amid overgrown grass and a crumbling parking lot, Beverly, 81, took a moment to reflect.
“It touches my heart, as time goes on, to see that Lansing has grown far beyond just being known for Michigan State,” he said. “It’s really moved forward in terms of its relationships with minorities and people who were maybe not going to go to college who can now do tech programs.”
Beverly came to Lansing via his hometown of White Plains, New York, in 1960 as a fresh-faced sprinter on the Michigan State University track and field team. Before he became an educator, he spent several years as an area director for the Lyndon Johnson-backed Model Cities Program and as deputy director of the Youth Development Corp.
“At first, there wasn’t a whole lot of community involvement. But as time went on, those types of programs helped change that. Today, we’re much more aware of what’s happening in our community and the world,” he said.
Beverly maintained his activism as an educator. While at Otto Middle School, he established a Peace Center Program to address youth violence, which led to a 14% decrease in suspensions in its first six months. He was also instrumental in creating the first school-based student health center in the state.
Shortly after retiring in 2002, Beverly became a guest professor at Olivet College, where he taught a critical thinking course for six years. Now that he’s hung up the chalk and erasers for good, he’s continued to stay abreast on the events of the day through habitual reading.
“I’ve got three newspapers here now,” he said, gesturing to his car with a grin. “I like to keep up with not just what’s going on here, but also on the bigger picture and what’s happening in the world.”
He noted that efforts to promote lasting change often hinge on being able to understand the larger narrative of any particular issue or perspective. In other words, as he liked to remind students throughout his career, “There are always two sides to a story.”
“It’s helpful to remember that what may have an impact on you may not for others. So, you have to recognize, understand and respect the other side first if you want to have a meaningful conversation and accomplish what you set out to do,” he said.
When he’s not turning pages, going on walks or spending time with his family, Beverly has been encouraged by and supportive of modern efforts to “incorporate more minorities in education.”
He hopes his former role as a minority educator in a leadership position has helped pave the way for younger people of color to step up and continue that work.
— TYLER SCHNEIDER
One night in 1960, jazz legend Philly Joe Jones angrily stormed the bandstand at the Jazz Gallery in New York’s Greenwich Village, where drummer Randy Gelispie was trading licks, at the tender age of 25, with the great guitarist Wes Montgomery.
Jones, drummer of the first great Miles Davis quintet, yanked the sticks out of Gelispie’s hands.
“Get up, motherfucker, you’re too young to be playing that good,” he demanded.
Gelispie has been playing drums ever since he whittled sticks out of kindling from the woodshed and banged them on tin cans at age 6.
“I was born to play this music,” he said.
His spirit, stamina, skill and power at 89 are enough to drive the ghost of Philly Joe to rise up and pull the sticks out of his hands all over again.
He would only have to change one word: “You’re too old to be playing that good.”
Gelispie laughed at the thought.
“That sounds just like something he would say,” Gelispie said.
Starting in his early teens in jazz clubs in his hometown of Akron, he played with, or met, nearly every jazz great from the glory days of mid-20th-century jazz.
He came to Michigan State University at the invitation of Jazz Studies director Rodney Whitaker in 1991 and still teaches about a dozen students per semester.
Many MSU students say “Uncle G” changed their lives.
He starts each semester by telling them three things. The first is, “We love you.” The second is, “There is only one race: the human race.” The third is to call him, anytime day or night, if they need something.
“If I can’t help you, I will find somebody to help you,” he tells the students. “Now let’s get together, have some fun and play this music.”
Gelispie’s reputation as a living embodiment of the jazz tradition stretches across the nation. This year, no less an acolyte than Obed Calvaire, drummer for Wynton Marsalis and the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra, called Gelispie and asked for a lesson.
“I said, ‘Man, you’re in the top band in the country,’” Gelispie recalled. “‘What do you need me for?’”
Calvaire flew to Lansing, rented a car and took a two-and-half hour lesson with Uncle G. He told Gelispie that Marsalis often talks about him.
“Whenever they get to talking about swing, your name comes up,” Calvaire told him.
Gelispie doesn’t do a lot of traveling anymore, but he gets plenty of licks in at Jazz Tuesdays at Moriarty’s Pub and festival gigs like the Summer Solstice Jazz Festival. He’s never partaken of alcohol or tobacco — “Not yet,” he said.
“Music helps keep you young,” Gelispie said. “And there’s always something else to learn. The instrument was here before you got here, and it’s going to be here after you leave.”
Retirement is not part of the plan.
“Methuselah lived 959 years,” he said. “When I start getting close to that, maybe I’ll give it some thought. But until then, I’m going to be talking about one, two, three, four.”
— LAWRENCE COSENTINO
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