All winter long and into the spring I felt like a fraud. I was in the city for so long it seemed more like city dwelling than just visiting. So whenever I told people I lived in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, I wondered if I should be telling them I only live here part time. And if I’m a part-timer, can I claim to be a Yooper1?
A long, long time ago I was born in the UP so I’m legit in that sense, but this sojourn stretched into such a long time away I began to feel the city creep in. I visited with my beloved family, I did Yoga, I went to plays, I had dental work done, I found bookstores, I did a whole lot of sight-seeing, getting back to some of my old Detroit haunts and marveling at the glimmer coming off of that precious city once again and at long last.
I lived in and near Detroit for many more years than I’ve ever lived in the UP, and it all began to feel familiar. I got used to driving in traffic again, along busy freeways. I ventured out to places I hadn’t been before, just for the fun of it, and, while I missed the quiet of my island home, I was not unhappy there. Not at all.
I longed to get home, both vocally and—you might have noticed—in writing, but with each delay (the dental work took almost two months longer than I thought it ever would) I adjusted and found things to do. And now that I’m home, I kind of miss—I’m just going to say it—the city.
And because I miss it, I’m feeling even more like a fraud. A disloyal fraud. A fair-weather fraud, since I’m only saying all of this because I’m not there. If I were there I would want to be here.
I’m home now, and, after some trial and error, everything is on and seems to be cooperating. The fallen tree I knew about plus another I didn’t are gone, thanks to my dear neighbor who has a massive chainsaw that cuts through that dead pinewood like butter. He and his brother made quick work of the wood and then cut down another dead tree they thought sure was going to be the one to go first. Their teenagers cleared the yard of fallen branches and brush and everything looks wonderful. And I adore those people!
They even put my clothesline back up, so now I can hang my laundry and let Mother Nature dry it while adding a delicious, woodsy scent.
I’m baking a Fruit Cocktail cake2 as I’m writing this. I’ll slather on a Cream Cheese frosting and, after it’s had a chance to chill, I’ll take it over to them. It’s not nearly enough but it’s a pretty great cake!
And, of course, I’m thinking of Ed, who loved Fruit Cocktail cake almost as much as he loved German Chocolate cake. For many years I made a German Chocolate for his birthday, and it was magnificent! It’s also the hardest, most time-consuming cake I’ve ever made. I used the recipe on the inside of the Baker’s German Chocolate bar wrapper. I wonder if it’s still the same? I wonder if there are as many steps and if you still have to bake it in three round pans?
I guess it doesn’t really matter. I’m never going to make that cake again.
I miss that man so much. Now that I’m back in our house I miss him even more. So much of him is still here and I’m fine with that. I want it that way. I want this to go on being our house.
But with him in it.
Still, I’m home and I’m happy and my friends tell me I’m smiling more (new teeth will do that) and I’m standing taller. (A major feat since I’m so short there are carnival rides I can’t go on.)
There’s so much to do around here but for now it’s Memorial Day weekend and it’s going to be a gorgeous day, so I’m going to end this now and go and see what kind of trouble I can get into.
But before I go, I have to tell you about ‘Come From Away’. Have you seen it? It’s a play about what happened in the small town of Gander, Newfoundland when the Twin Towers were struck and dozens of planes coming to the US were diverted to Gander. The townspeople suddenly found themselves having to host thousands of passengers without the kinds of resources only a big city could offer.
I watched it last night on Apple TV. It’s funny and heartbreaking and the music is amazing. I watched the last half again this morning before I got out of bed. If you watch it, be sure to watch all the way through the credits. You'll thank me for this!
A Yooper is someone who lives or was born in the Upper Peninsula, or, as we call it, the UP. (Pronounced You Pee, much to my granddaughter’s delight. When she was a toddler she found any excuse to say it and giggle.)
Here’s the recipe: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ii6a_1GJOFd03lloGVw-cB1Fb9U_Cr762ASs-hmH-_Q/edit#heading=h.k6vgkkanbfev
I live not too far north from the UP, so knew instinctively what a Yooper was. Welcome home!
Love your voice and your storytelling. Looking forward to more! Have a lovely pine-scented weekend.