Just as Well

One of life's little pleasures for me is going old school and listening to baseball games on the radio in the garage of our place when in Hessel, in Michigan's glorious Upper Peninsula. There's something about the anticipation of waiting to be told what's happening which adds excitement to hearing my Detroit Tigers in action. In certain ways, it's better than actually seeing the game. It sparks the imagination. Radio is a book for the ear.

Imagine, then, my consternation when the power went out in the third inning of yesterday's game. Zach McKinstry had just aggressively took third on a Riley Greene single. Dan Dickerson, the play by play man describing the actions, had just called McKinstry safe when the radio clicked off. 

Hitting the on button did not turn the thing back on. I checked the power box in the garage and the breakers were on. Trying the house itself, I found the breakers all on in the electric panel in the back bedroom closet. Flipping lights throughout the house with no response told me what I had by then presumed: there was a power outage. I looked up the local power company on my phone (for of course I had no other Internet access with no power), Cloverland Electric for what that's worth, and reported the issue. Their site told me that around 1300 people in my area had no electricity but they were working on it. So, as the afternoon had bright sunshine in a cloudless sky, I settled into a lawn chair under a cedar tree and read a book.

A couple of hours later as I was in the kitchen, the light came on. Racing out to the garage, I turned the radio on just in time to hear Dickerson proclaim, "...and Texas beats Detroit in the the first game of this series, five to nothing."

I guess it wasn't the worst time for the power to go out. It saved me a bit of anguish.

Nine Oh Six

While tooling around yesterday for work and not wasting my day away at all, being very productive, you know, paying Ron's Social Security, the odometer on my new old van hit 906. Well, the last three digits were 906. My new old van is way beyond a mere 906 miles. The full number was 201,906 miles if all you OCD folks among my readers simply must know.

906 is the area code for Michigan's glorious Upper Peninsula. The significance is that upon seeing that trifecta of digits, I'm pining for da U.P.  I can't wait to get back up there now, perhaps not until June but I'm really hoping for May. Especially now. The switch has been flipped on.

Who Needs Him?

Father Jernej Sostar is the pastor of Our Lady of the Snows in Hessel, Michigan, the Church I attend when I'm in Michigan's Glorious Upper Peninsula. I like him. His homilies are to the point, and you can learn from them.

One of my favorites came in the summer of 2022. He was speaking about how we all need Jesus because we all need His grace and forgiveness. Not a one of us is perfect, yet He is willing to help us along the road to personal improvement. But we have to understand that need first. If we don't, we won't ask Jesus to help, because we're not open to it. And then, of course, we may not get it. Jesus respects our free will that much.

Roughly paraphrasing the good priest, if we think we're okay as we are, if we tell Jesus 'I'm a good guy as I am' then Our Lord is liable to say, "Then what do you need me for? If you're already certain you're fine as you are, I can't help. I'll go help someone else." 

Basically, if you aren't examining who and what you are and trying to honestly assess your own level of good or badness, you aren't open to Christ's help because you believe you don't need it. Where will such thoughts lead, or leave, us?

Doorknobs and DayQuil

While lazing in Hessel, in Michigan's glorious Upper Peninsula, I found need to replace a keyed door handle. One would never imagine procuring such a presumably common impliment might be at all a difficulty. Yet neither hardware in nearby Cedarville offered such a commodity; even the Ace in Pickford all of 11 miles distant offered not what I had thought would have been a hardware staple. C'est la vie; such is life. As I was considering a trek to Sault Sainte Marie, the Soo, 35 miles distant from Hessel, I elected to consider whether I might discover such product in a place of business there. But tomorrow would suffice for that journey.

On the trail back through Cedarville I decided to stop at the Family Dollar for DayQuil (as I seem to be fighting a cold) and flavored carbonated water. I simply adore Family Dollar's Strawberry Kiwi and Wild Cherry water. Perusing the shelves of yon establishment I stumbled upon canned vegetables, among which was Margaret Holmes' Tomatoes, Okra, and Corn medley. As I likewise adore tomatoes, okra, and corn yet rarely enjoyed okra (a veg I particularly love yet rarely enjoy; Mom used to fry it rolled in corn meal and, to employ the vernacular, boy, that was good eatin') I presumed Margaret would be flattered should I purchase  a can for myself, to eat with the fish patties awaiting my dinner in the Hessel freezer.

Margaret's mix was good, but was galaxies removed from me Mom's recipe.

Be that as it may, before reaching the checkout it occurred to me that Family Dollars typically have small hardware sections. I didn't expect to find it there, yet lo and behold there was exactly one brand new keyed doorknob. I took it in my hands with a cackle. It saved a 70 mile round trip which may have been for naught anyway, there currently being a dearth of such commodities in the eastern Upper Peninsula for some reason.

Setting my items down at the checkout, the clerk began to scan them. Water, veggies, and DayQuil were scanned promptly and efficiently. Then she scanned the doorknob once, yea twice, each attempt performed unsuccessfully. "What's your birthday?" she demanded. Indeed, it was a command.

I drew back in confusion, asking incredulously, "You require my birthday lest I cannot purchase a doorknob?"

"No, I'm sorry, sir. I need it for the DayQuil. It won't let me scan the doorknob until I get it," she explained.

Okay, I then understood. I don't get why Big Brother feels need to protect me from daytime cold medicines, but perhaps that's another issue.

The Brick Flag - Or - Being Up North

There's always been debate among folks in Michigan about where Up North begins. For those not in the know, Up North is a term used in general as vacationland for Michigan residents. It's where we go to get away from Detroit, or any big city in the southern third of the state.

A local joke is that people from Chicago and northern Indiana think Grand Rapids is Up North. Look at a map and you'll get it.

Bur where does Up North actually begin? For Yoopers, those who live in Michigan's glorious Upper Peninsula, it doesn't start until you've crossed the Big Mac, the five mile long bridge which connects our two peninsulas. For some in the northern Lower Peninsula, you aren't Up North until at least Houghton or West Branch. Some few even argue that the Thumb qualifies. Yeah, a map might help understand this too. But for me, Up North has a very definite starting point. It's a large brick American flag on the west side of Interstate 75 about four miles past Bay City as you drive north.

One side of it is the Betsy Ross flag, the one with the thirteen stars in a circle on the blue field. The other is the current fifty star version. The brick flag is just after I-75 merges into only two lanes, another sure sign you're Up North. Most of the freeway is 3 to 4 lanes south of Bay City, with only a short two lane stretch in southern Gennesse County (which is decidedly, all will agree with  me here, nor real up north at all).

To be sure, it's still only one-third of the way to Hessel for us Detroiters. But the instant I see that brick flag (it was even constructed with a mild wave in it), I'm up north. I can't speak for others, but it fits the bill for me.

Farewell Hessel 2021

About two hours after this posts I'll be leaving Hessel for most likely the last time in 2021. I suppose something might crop up which would allow me another trip to Michigan's glorious Upper Peninsula - a drain snake delivery or the like - but I don't expect it.

The funny thing is that I'm not melancholy about it, which is odd for me. It's usually a downer of a trip, the last one of the year or season or whatever you want to call it, but I'm really trying to find and keep a better outlook on things. This includes the idea that, hey, life goes on. Enjoy what you have and deal with reality. Every day truly is a blessing.

So I'll let Hessel go for this year with one final observation. It amazes me how much less activity there is here after Labor Day. I mean, Hessel isn't exactly crowded by any metric in the summer save for a boat show which does draw around 10,000 for its single day. But other than that, there aren't all that many people here even in the height of summer. Yet I can still see, and it is very noticeable I assure you, how much the activity drops off after Labor Day.

Sitting on the front porch reading, I might not see another car in an hour. The number of walkers are down. The handful of stores and restaurants don't have anywhere near the activity they have from May until the first of September. The Presbyterian Church next door has fewer cars; the Catholic Church I attend significantly fewer people. It astounds me.

Ah, well. Such is life I suppose in a tourist area.

The near miss in Hessel

There is, at the front corner of our lot in Hessel, a stone fence which is wide enough to sit upon I like to perch atop it occasionally where I can see the water down at the far end of Center Street. Center Street begins at Cedar Street and runs towards Lake Huron; Cedar runs across the front of our property. It was from this place where I had the catbird's seat to near catastrophe.

A noise distracted my silent reverie of gazing at the various boats and Ski-doos which danced upon the waters. A motor vehicle approached on Cedar from east, headed my way. Unexpectedly a second noise alerted me of a slight yet speeding pickup truck travelling northward on Center Street. Each displayed all the character of hurried and determined captains directing their respective horseless carriages. Fear crept into my mind. "Gracious!" methought, "Is this calamity which approaches?"

A glance down Cedar showed no evidence that yon vehicle intended to yield; a return stare southward on Center brought similar distress. Ought I prepare my camera phone to capture the incident with a photo sure to attract the attention of the local news hounds? Or would my time be better served with a 'duck and cover' maneuver behind the safety of the stone fence, lest my own body be struck down via airborne debris? 

Thankfully, or so I rightly admonished myself as the thought of spectacular havoc having invaded my head, the small truck patrolling Center elected to obey the red, octagonal traffic sign declaring that vehicles from his vantage come to a full stop before proceeding hence. The discretion of the pilot of the pickup allowed the motorcar on Cedar Street to cruise forth unimpeded and safely, a fine result indeed for all involved.

Taking my blue paisley handkerchief from my pocket, I wiped my brow in relief. Though I would find no photographic market for a pile of twisted wreckage upon the bi-ways of small town Michigan, I was content that distaster was averted. I happily returned to the roar of motorboats, sublime in my safety.

28 minutes

We got back to the D yesterday after a weekend in Hessel, in Michigan's glorious upper Peninsula. It was a small and all too quick family get together. But I imagine all good times are too quick, eh?

Yet it could have been shorter. In this case the early arrivals up North, my eldest son, daughter-in-law, and myself went to the Upper Peninsula State Fair in Escanaba, three hours from Hessel in the western UP. We were on the road there about a half hour after I had gotten in this past Friday.  My daughter-in-law cracked wise to me as we started our journey to the Fair, "I hope you enjoyed your stay in Hessel!" 

Hey, 28 minutes in Hessel beats 28 minutes in a lot of other places, I responded quite truly.

The UP State fair was well worth the brief moments in Hessel. And we managed to stay a couple extra days after anyway.

4:30

Perhaps what I like best about being up north are the wee hours of the morning. If there's an advantage to not feeling well, as I did not feel well yesterday, it's that medicines can ease you into sleep. I slept from about Noon until 3:30 Friday afternoon, got up long enough to have a bite to eat and re-medicate, and was asleep again from 5 late in the afternoon until 2 or so this morning. I'm still a bit headachy though.

Be that as it may, sometimes a walk can clear the mind. A small headache I have discovered might actually break with activity. So at 4:30 I took a walk, just as the dawn was rising.

What you cannot see in the city you can see quite well in the country. Through breaks in the lowest clouds I could spy the first faint rays of the Sun creeping up from the horizon, the heavens through the clouds more gray than blue. I can't recall seeing much of early dawn while in Detroit; you can tell the Sun is on its way by how the sky overhead brightens but you don't see much horizon. I wished it weren't so cloudy so that I might have seen early morning color. Tomorrow maybe.

I went far enough out State Route 134, the major thoroughfare near Hessel, that I felt I should turn back. A storm was a brewin' - I had checked the radar online before heading out, as old men will do - and I thought I had best not stray too far. This had me headed west. I could make out low rumblings of thunder and the faintest lightning not more than ten degrees above that horizon: quick flashes chased by tiny rolls of grumbling sound. I watched the western flashes of light grow closer, heard the thunder rise in timbre as I neared home.

As I sat on the porch with a hot coffee the rain just began. It isn't so hard yet but I expected to be chased inside sooner rather than later. It is just as well. The bread won't toast itself.

The internal debate

I spent last weekend in the tiny village of Hessel, in Michigan's glorious Upper Peninsula. I'm glad that we weren't a state at the time of our little dispute with Ohio. I'd rather have da U.P. den Toledo. Nothing personal, honest, Toledo.

Anyway, when there I broke myself (I think) of a rather silly habit. On Monday afternoon I wanted a cup of coffee. So I had resolved to drive three miles into neighboring Cedarville and buy a cup at the gas station and convenience store there. My reason for not making coffee at the house was that I was leaving early Tuesday and wouldn't drink a whole pot of it before then. "So don't make a full one," something inside me said to me.

"Don't make a full pot of coffee?" I asked myself incredulously. "Who does that? How would you even go about it?"

"You put in half or a third of the grounds for a full pot using half or a third of the water," I explained to me.

"I can do that?" I questioned myself skeptically.

"Sure you can," I assured me. "You've got perfectly good tap water, and coffee that's already paid for. And it'll be done by the time you'd drive into town."

Shaking my head at my thoughts I said, "I don't know."

"What's to know?" And myself began filling the coffee pot half way before putting the water in the reservoir of the Mr. Coffee, and putting two scoops instead of four scoops of grounds into the container the hot water would run through. "You sure about this?" I asked as I hit the brew switch.

"Trust me," I replied.

Sure enough, in a few minutes I had hot coffee, without the trouble of driving into Cedarville. It seems I can be taught. It just has to by an expert teacher.

Weird Hessel

I know that I'm up here in the off season, so I don't expect a ton of summer activity. But I didn't expect the local pub and grub to be closed.

It's been closed every night I've been here, and it's downright weird to be sitting on my porch and not hearing a thing from that direction (the place is about a city block away). What's even more odd is walking down there at any time of day and into the evening, even later at night, to see no one and no thing. No one in the pub, no cars on the street, nothing. 

When I get a chance I'm going hit the locals about what's going on. The only other Hessel bar is about two miles away and it's closed too. Of course, the casino is open.

I'm sure it's somehow COVID related. But I'd have thought the Upper Peninsula of Michigan would have been beyond that issue by now. But this intrepid reporter will get to the bottom of it. 

Or he won't, because the quiet is nice. Why stir the pot?

The hipsters in Hessel

Hessel Grocery, which had been in the conveniently named village of Hessel, Michigan for quite some years, is no more. It is now called NibbleLungen. It promises a full line of groceries as did its predecessor, but its deli will now give you lunch and dinner options with a Mediterranean flavor.

But what the hell's nibblelungen anyway? And a Mediterranean flavor? The new owners do know that they're in the middle of small town, rural, traditional Michigan don't they? They promise something for 'even the most finicky' taste buds. I should have thought they'd have realized they were in deer camp and ice fishing country, which is not exactly known for its discriminating tastes in food.

I for one never vacationed in Hessel for any Mediterranean flair. I'm not calling it wrong, I'm just calling it out: the invasion of the Upper Peninsula is begun! The hipsters are everywhere. They've even taken the old hardware store in town and converted it into a distillery. A distillery!

Hmmm. A distillery. All right, maybe the hipsters aren't all bad.

Big city, small town

If you think what a difference a day makes, think what a difference a week does.

Last Saturday I was in one of the biggest cities in the world, going to Church at one of the largest cathedrals in the United States. Yesterday I was in a tiny little hamlet in Michigan's Upper Peninsula and went to Mass at a small local church. I went from people everywhere to being in a newly opened shop where three dozen made a crowd. Believe me, in that tiny little store 36 folk was a packed house.

Talk about the sublime to the ridiculous. From New York City to Hessel, Michigan in five days. From where I stand right now there isn't anyone within several hundred feet. Last Saturday on Manhattan I was amid several hundred people within a few feet.

Interestingly I'm not sure which place I like best. It's great that I can be with family in each spot. So I suppose I should be thankful they're both on my radar.

A car just drive by. My personal space has been violated.

Let's see where I might be next Sunday. Will Detroit count as halfway between these two extremes?

Breaking Away from Michigan

Ever hear of the state of Superior? How about the state of Ontonagon? Both are ideas which have been discussed from time to time as attempts by the Upper Peninsula of Michigan to split off from the rest of the state occasionally arise.

Nothing will ever come of it, of course, and it's almost certainly done at least partly in jest. But it is easy to sympathize with the Yoopers. They feel themselves too distant from Lansing, and also believe that rest of the state is simply using them for whatever nefarious reasons, up to and including taking away local property taxes on the mines up there. Seeing as they only make up 3% of Michigan's population, residents of the UP can certainly feel shunned by the rest of us.

To be sure, many areas are more culturally part of Wisconsin than Michigan. In the western part of the UP in particular, they're in the central time zone, read the Milwaukee papers, and root for the Green Bay Packers (and seeing as the Lower Peninsula has the Lions, can you blame them?). Indeed, among the secession proposals have been ideas to incorporate part of northeastern Wisconsin ans several northern Lower Peninsula counties into a new state. It is thought in some quarters that a larger land mass than merely the Upper Peninsula itself would be necessary for such a state to be economically viable.

It is interesting to note that almost every state in the Union has at one time or another addressed secession from the larger body. But as with any local changes, they have met with no serious attempts at breaking off from the mother state. Often they were simply protests against feeling ignored by the rest of the given area.

Still, the state of Ontonagon sounds better than the state of Superior, and especially Northern Michigan, as had been suggested too. But again, nothing will come of it.

Yet that won't stop our northern brethren from dreaming, even if it is of the pipe variety.

Whither Wolves in Michigan?

There will be a wolf hunt this fall in three areas of Michigan's Upper Peninsula. The animals have become a threat to the local framers, killing cattle and other livestock, and have even hurt the deer population. But more than that, there are fears that the wild dogs will become predatory against people.

Well, why wait until the fall if such is the case? If livestock are being killed now, and if the wolves are appearing in residents' back yards and in the streets of small towns now, as reports assert, why wait until the fall? Perhaps there are decent ecological reasons for it, but still, if the threat is that grave, waiting seems ill advised.

Some feel that the wolf packs can be trained to stay away from livestock because killing some wolves interrupts the pack. Perhaps; but that seems a bit pie in the sky. How does one train wild animals to respect human endeavors? We're not saying that it can't be done, but only that the idea seems at odds with itself. At the end of the day, it comes down to a rather simple idea of micromanaging the environment.

Which brings us to the real issue: why on earth ought we expect government, any government, be capable of caring for everything to the nth degree? The wolf issue is a decent example of the fallacy of such thought. Congress came up with the Endangered Species Act in 1973 and put wolves on it because they had been killed to the point of extinction. They came off the list last January because of their resurgence, and now they're a threat. Now we have a battle of wills between residents of the UP concerned for their safety, academics who want to 'train' wild animals, and downstate Michiganders over whether a hunt is good or not.

Here's a simple solution: if an animal is a danger to human beings and human commerce, why not allow people to protect their lives and property as they need to, on a case by case basis? Why is the government at any level involved in this at all? Would there be a problem today if the Endangered Species Act had never been proposed? Why is it presumed that we're better off with wolves at all?

Balance, dear fellow, balance. But why must everything be balanced? What is this idea of balance except a presumption that somehow, someway, anything and everything must stay as it once was or, at least, how some people fancy that it once was?

Things change. If we can accept that concept, with a proper respect for the unchanging, we will find our world a simpler place. Until then, we will only have a world of micromangers who can never micromanage quite rightly, and for a simple reason: no one can.

The State of Superior?

Ever hear of the state of Superior? How about the state of Ontonagon? Both are ideas which have been discussed from time time as attempts by the Upper Peninsula of Michigan to split off from the rest of the state. An article in today's Detroit Free Press tells of how there is talk of it again in Marquette.

Nothing will come of it, of course. But it is easy to sympathize with the Yoopers. They feel themselves too distant from Lansing, and also believe that rest of the state is simply using them for whatever nefarious reasons, up to and including taking away local property taxes on the mines up there. Seeing as they only make up 3% of Michigan's population, residents of the UP can certainly feel shunned by the rest of us.

To be sure, many areas are more culturally part of Wisconsin then Michigan. In the western part of the UP in particular, they read the Milwaukee papers and root for the Green bay Packers. Indeed, among the secession proposals have been ideas to incorporate part of northeastern Wisconsin ans several northern Lower Peninsula counties into a new state. A larger land mass than merely the Upper Peninsula itself would be necessary for such a state to be economically viable.

It is interesting to note that almost every state in the Union has at one time or another addressed secession from the larger body. But as with any local changes, they have met with no serious attempts at breaking off from the mother state. Often they were simply protests against feeling shunned by the rest of the given area.

Still, the state of Ontonagon sounds better than the state of Superior, and especially Northern Michigan, as had been suggested too. But again, nothing will come of it.

Yet that won't stop our northern brethren from dreaming.

Michigan Statehood

Today in Michigan history, Michigan became Michigan. But it wasn't easy.

Early on, what became our state was more or less bypassed by the westward expansion of the United States. Everyone, it seemed, went west, so that several areas west and south of us became states before we did. Relatively few people made the right turn at Toledo, thinking Michigan a swampland which didn't offer much, and wagons went better straight anyway on dry land. So Indiana, Illinois, Missouri, and other areas were given statehood first. That's where the people went.

The opening of the Erie Canal made Detroit a larger economic player in the developing Middle West. Goods crossed New York into Buffalo, and came down Lake Erie into Detroit, or across Canada into the city's waiting arms. Yet even with that event, in 1825, Michigan was still 12 years from taking a seat in Washington.

Perhaps the famous border war with Ohio got in the way. You know, the one we continue today with that University down south. Voices were raised, militias assembled, and one person killed, all over a strip of land which ran out from Toledo, which at the time both the State of Ohio and the Territory of Michigan wanted, for the shipping industry involved. Ohio was a state already, so Ohio got Toledo. But we got the Upper Peninsula, thought of as a Seward's Folly (before Seward) yet which paid great dividends with the copper boom of the 1800s. Wouldn't you rather have da UP dan Toledo anyhoo?

More recently, Michigan was the only state to lose population during the 2010 Census. One wonders if all the early tribulations along with more recent ones such as the Census and the lack of economic diversity led to a bit of a pessimistic outlook on the part of Michigan residents. Maybe so, maybe no; but despite the low points of our history, we've had our highs, and we'll have more soon, whenever history is ready. Michigan is not just the Great Lakes State, it's a great state period.

Happy Birthday, Michigan.

Vacation

I have just returned from my family's annual journey to Michigan's glorious north country, the Upper Peninsula.

It was one of our best trips. Many of the friends we have made up there are there at the same time each year, including several this time around who had not made the trip in years. We actually had a party at our home in dear little Hessel. We're aren't sure that the previous owners of the home, my wife's aunt and uncle, would have approved of merrymaking at their place of residence. But I should rather think it doesn't matter to them at this point, and we didn't break anything. I don't think.

A few of us fished, we saw the local sights such as they are, we went to a fireworks display at St. Ignace and ate the all you can eat fish dinners at the Main Street Cafe in Pickford. There was the usual nearly over the top gathering at the Islander Bar in downtown Hessel (Thanks, Jerry!), but we behaved. I think.

We had a few beers, we talked, we reminisced freely if not wholly accurately. For those of us with kids, it was a bit sad that so many of them have grown up and could not be with us, but time, as it does, marches on. The memories are almost as good as their actual presence. I rather believe that memories are perhaps the greatest gift we have in this old world, but that's a bit of an aside right here.

The entire group has coordinated efforts and will all be there at the same time next year. It will be too long in coming, but at least we know the time is waiting somewhere below the horizon. John and Barb, John and Kim, John and Marie (I would say that's a lot of Johns but it seems inappropriate), Matt and Kara and Kelly, Jerry and Helen, and Moe and Eunice, great seeing you. July 2010 can't come quickly enough.