In the waning days of this escape from of the sweltering Texas heat, it’s nice to have a morning with sun and blue sky and cool Michigan air and a visitor like this.
Bang!
Wed, 19 Jul 2023, 11:45 AM (-06:00)
Much to the chagrin of the girls I am sure although they were far too polite to say anything, I sat in the cottage for a long time before finally walking out to our teardrop trailer.
It was late, and the woods was dark for eyes accustomed to being indoors. Still, there was a slight glow from inside the trailer, so I managed to find my way without tripping over the various minor hazards along the way. Once inside, I arranged the blankets and sleeping bag (yes, even in summertime), shut the door, and turned out the light.
When I had laid my head on my pillow, I heard some loud voices. Distant but not distant, it sounded like two people arguing. I opened the door, stepped out, peered into the darkness and listened. There was indeed some sort of argument — two or more agitated people yelling very loudly.
Then there was a loud Bang!
I peered in the direction of the shot (for a gun shot it clearly had been). There were lights at a cottage that I had never noticed you could see thru the woods. And the yelling got very loud and very, very frantic.
“Get into the car,” a woman shouted. “GET INTO THE CAR!”
I heard a door slam shut, and then there was another Bang!
I could see red tail lights light up thru the trees and hear a motor revving and tires spinning. The revving and spinning would stop and the then restart. I heard the sound of kicked up gravel. This went on for a few moments, and tail lights moved forward and back a few times and then finally disappeared into the woods. The sound of the engine roared down what I knew to be a long driveway to the road.
Just then there was another Bang!
I could see a second set tail lights and hear another engine which also raced down the driveway. And I could clearly hear first car turn onto the road and speed towards 16 Mile Road, where it must have spun as it turned northward, tires squealing loudly. The second car went in the same direction. A few minutes later I heard sirens, but they never got close. And then there was silence.
Back in the trailer, I rearranged the blankets and sleeping bag, shut the door, turned out the light, laid my head back on my pillow, and fell fast asleep.
Black Smudges in the Woods
Wed, 19 Jul 2023, 09:21 AM (-06:00)
A squirrel complained at twilight from somewhere in the woods. You might know the growling-whining complaint of a squirrel. It would serve perfectly as a sound effect of some lurking creature in a sci-fi movie.
I turned to look. The noise stopped. I looked away, and it resumed. Then another squirrel joined in. I turned to look. Their noise stopped. I looked away, and they both resumed. This went on a few times, each round louder than the last. I imagined them slowly approaching me and at their loudest, expecting them to be glowering at me in the dimming darkness from margin of the woods.
The growling and whining no longer sounded like squirrels. The hair stood up on my arms.
I walked to the edge of the deck and stared into the the forest. There I waited, determined to force the creatures to make the next move, which they did. At the top of a topless tree there were two black smudges of shadow moving only slightly, growling and whining.
“I see you there,” I said. Silence. They stopped moving, and I was no longer certain that they ever had.
One of these smudges was on the side of the topless tree, silhouetted by the twilit woods. The other perched atop the shattered trunk where the rest of the tree had snapped off some time ago. I stood motionless and waited. Then the top smudge moved toward a hole in the tree that I had not noticed and disappeared inside.
Even as the other black smudge on the side remained in place, there came a commotion from inside that hole. And after some time that seemed to go on forever but was likely only a few seconds, two black smudges emerged from the hole, one chasing to the other, spiraling around trunks and branches as the first one leapt to other trees and raced away into the canopy. While those two were chasing each other, the third moved slowly around the topless tree to the hole and went inside.
Now all was quiet. There was no more growling. No whining. And soon the chaser of the two returned to the tree, perched on top, and eventually climbed into the hole.
I never saw the third smudge again.
On the Far Side of the Lake
Mon, 17 Jul 2023, 01:10 PM (-06:00)
The early morning fog had just risen, although there were places in the reeds on the far side of the lake where a few wisps remained. The water was as still as glass. The forest on the western shore was reflected perfectly on the surface.
A small dog barked somewhere over there — just one small yip followed by a few more that sounded as if the dog had turned away and was barking into the woods. This then grew louder and became frantic. The barking echoed as if the dog had descended into a cavern.
Then all was quiet. And moments later there was a splash on the far shore. Ripples radiated into the otherwise still water.
The splash and the ripples are unrelated to the silence, right? The dog will be yipping again this evening. Right?
Goodbye Ottawa
Sun, 16 Jul 2023, 07:08 AM (-06:00)
There’s very little of their lives left here now.
Most of the artwork is gone. And the furniture. The rugs. Their things have been given to friends. To charities. Thrown away. Yes, a desk, some chairs, a table, and some empty file cabinets remain, but they will soon be gone.
The condominium is mostly empty. It is time to leave Ottawa, probably for the last time.
1. Good Night
On the night before, I stood at the small, south-facing window in the bedroom and looked out on the night. Low rain clouds hung overhead. The lights of the city glimmered. The silhouette of downtown and Parliament Hill rose up from the river. Somewhere to the south, there were airliners being cleared for takeoff. A car honked in the distance. A bus pulled away from a bus stop. Some people walked on the sidewalks.
Years ago, the boy stood at this window on a snowy, winter day watching for me to come back from a run. I had gone south, doing my best to get a workout without slipping on the ice and snow. And as I came back, I looked up at the eleventh floor and saw his eager face peering out. I will treasure that memory of him in this place for the rest of my life.
Now it was I who was looking out that window.
“Goodbye,” I said to no one.
2. Good Morning
On the last morning, a shrieking alarm went off in the early morning before the sun rose.
I stumbled out of bed to a box on the wall that I had never noticed before. The shrieking was coming from it, and there was a red light blinking on its side. I fumbled with it desperate to make the wailing stop. I pushed a button, and the alarm stopped, although another siren in the hall continued to wail.
This was clearly serious. I pulled on pants and a shirt and went into the hall where another man stood looking around.
“Is this a fire alarm?”
“I guess so.”
The woman in the unit at the end of the hall opened her door. It was indeed the fire alarm, she explained in a calm voice. We should just wait, and they would tell us what to do.
“Attention! Attention!” a voice came over the PA. “This is the Ottawa fire department. We are investigating. Stay in your apartments.”
I took a shower. I brushed my teeth. I contemplated what I might grab if I had to run. I packed my suitcase and set it near the door. After a while, the shrieking stopped.
“Attention! Attention!” a voice said again. “This is the Ottawa fire department. There is no fire. There was a problem in the pump room in the basement.”
With nothing left to do and further sleep certainly out of the question, I wandered aimlessly around the condo for a while. Then I ate some leftovers that were surprisingly satisfying, did one last check of all the rooms, plotted my route out of town, pulled my suitcase into the hall, and locked the door one last time.
And then I said goodbye to no one.
The Corner of St. Laurent and Montreal
Fri, 14 Jul 2023, 08:16 AM (-06:00)
On the Corner
The corner of St. Laurent and Montreal is a happening place. From the point of view of a periodic visitor, it always has been.
Wheelchair-bound folks hang out under the trees in the shade at the corner of the parking lot. They talk. They laugh. The group varies in size. Sometimes they have small dogs in their laps. Sometimes they gather instead by the tables in front of the grocery store.
Folks in the neighborhood meet and gather for coffee in the morning: men with dapper hats and striped socks and dress pants, women with silver hair and colorful sweaters and sometimes with grandchildren. They smile. They greet each other. “Comment ça va?” “Bien merci, et toi?” They sit with coffee and their donuts and talk with flowing voices and animated gestures.
1.
I drove into town just before the summer sun went down, and by the time it was dark I surrendered to hunger. In spite of the hour, the McDonald’s was full. There was a mother and son in bicycle helmets sitting by the door. There were two giggling sisters calling their mother and asking for a ride home since their bus passes had expired. There was a group of friends on their phones who nominated one to order for them all — or perhaps she was the one with money. There was a loud guy with a speech impediment walking from table to table waving and saying hello and then walking back to his friends.
And then there was this other loud guy who came in with a backpack and a sleeping bag and disheveled clothes. He threw his stuff on the floor and walked to the counter. He shouted at girl waiting there, but she answered calmly. He shouted again, but she smiled and answered calmly again. He threw up his arms, returned to pick up his pack, and cursed loudly without looking at the girl. Then he left, cursing as he went.
“The city has changed a lot,” Fatima said to me when we talked about it.
I suppose it has, although my sample is not necessarily reliable, coming here at most once a year. I supposed it has. She would know better than I.
2.
It was breakfast time.
“Hello!? Hello, are you in there?”
The woman in a red shirt working at Tim Horton’s held a phone to her ear as she knocked on the men’s restroom door. Someone was in there. They were not responding, and she couldn’t open the door.
She had called the police but was put on hold when she said it was not an emergency. She waited, and she knocked again, repeatedly trying to get the man in there to leave.
“Does it really have to be an emergency to get some help?” she asked someone who was standing in line for coffee. She pounded on the restroom door. “Hello? Are you in there?”
The police eventually came, two officers in two vehicles. They put on black gloves and they came in thru the doors and went into the restroom. The woman in the red shirt returned to her station behind the counter bagging donuts and pouring coffee. The officers eventually came out, leading a tall, skinny man to the sidewalk outside and eventually to the shady spot under the trees where the wheelchair people usually hang out.
Then they put him into one of the vehicles and drove off.
Still on the Corner
In spite of these things, people still come in for donuts and coffee and ice cream cones. They still go out for burgers and fries. They still talk and they still smile. The banging on the restroom door that morning didn’t seem to bother any of them. Nor the cursing guy with the backpack the night before.
Because people need their coffee. They need their donuts. Their burgers. Their fries. And ice cream cones. Life on the corner goes on, despite it all.
Feasts and Serenade and a Nighttime Sky
Sun, 9 Jul 2023, 06:27 AM (-06:00)
The day before, Jasper had prepared (and narrated) a pork loin feast
only to be followed up yesterday with a feast (with narration) of salmon protein and pasta carbs to boost Ben and Colin for the triathlon that they are running this Sunday morning.
But that feast yesterday wasn’t sufficient for the day.
As we sat on the deck and on the hill and on the dock by the water, after the sun went down and the sky turned dark (although as for that, the eastern sky was already beginning to glow with a slight light from the just-full-moon rising from behind the forest), as Venus blazed above the western horizon and Mars looked down from overhead, Jasper came out and serenaded us with Nani’s violin, as he has done for so many years.
I laid back on the dock, which briefly accompanied his song with the rocking and rattling from shifted weight. I looked up at the dome of the night sky and listened to his music as the stars came out one by one.
A Cabin in the Woods
Thu, 6 Jul 2023, 01:53 PM (-06:00)
1. The Cabin
Paul and Jill have a cabin in the woods on a lake in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Paul and I knew each other in junior high, high school, and college. They’ve been there since the roads became reliably passable in May. And Doug was there, as he has been for the past two summers helping them build the cabin. Doug and I knew each other in Boy Scouts and went to high school and college together.
So after the fair and industrious Trudy flew home from Minnesota, I continued into Wisconsin and then the UP, heading to that cabin in the woods.
“Call me when you get to Munising,” Paul said. “I’ll meet you in the hotel parking lot on the corner in Seney, and you can follow me from there.” You see, their place is in the middle of nowhere — no address other than GPS coordinates. From Seney, it’s a long drive on narrow sand road. Easy to get lost. I was happy to follow his lead.
When I got to the hotel, there was Paul in his car in the parking lot waving to me to follow, which I did. I followed his contrail thru the sand
to a clearing where their off-grid cabin stood shining in the sun
on the south shore of Big Bell Lake.
2. Getting Stuck On Entry
“Pull in over there,” Paul said, “over the ferns. You can pull way in and then back up your trailer.”
That’s what I did. I pulled in over the ferns. Way in… clunk.
My front wheels dropped into a shallow ditch. The frame of the car was resting on the ground. The front wheels just spun themselves deeper. There was no backing out. Before I’d even arrived, I was stuck.
After a bit of failed pushing and spinning, we unhooked the trailer, pushed it out of the way, and tied our trailer hitches together with a strap. Paul was able to pull me out, although not without snapping the strap. But… disaster averted.
Still what an entry, eh?
3. Getting Stuck On Exit
After three days had passed, it was time to leave. Paul drew a map of the back roads on a grocery bag.
“You can’t go wrong,” he proclaimed confidently. “Everywhere you have to turn is at a tee. (Of course, that glosses over all the lesser roads that branch off along the way. In such situations, I am fully capable of turning at the wrong place. Still, I had a map. It was a glorious drive thru the woods glowing in the morning sun.
At places, the stacked logs from a recent lumbering towered above the car on the left and right.
Paul’s map was perfect. I turned at the intersection with all the names nailed to the trees, remembering not to follow the arrow to Jeff’s. And I was able to avoid the mistake of turning off into the woods on the many minor tributaries. And then I came to the intersection with the sand. I knew to go left, but the intersection snuck up on me, and before I could do that, I had taken the right branch — right into deep dry sand.
20 minutes into the deep woods, I was stuck. Sheesh.
I put the car in reverse and managed to back up enough to get a running start at the sand. I barely made it out. (If I hadn’t who knows if I would have caught up with Paul and Jill before they drove off in the other direction.)
Minutes later, I was at the big intersection. And 20 minutes later I was on civilized pavement again and on the road.
I’ll try to do better next year.
Joseph and Jose
Wed, 5 Jul 2023, 05:07 PM (-06:00)
I left Paul and Jill’s cabin some time between 9:00 and 10:00.
On the single lane “main road” ahead of me there was a camper kicking up dust. At one point I saw their brake lights when they slowed for a runner on the shoulder, but otherwise I could barely see for all the dust they were kicking up. I backed off.
As I went around a bend a few minutes later, I saw what seemed to be the camper pulled over with its flashers blinking. But as I got closer, I could see two people behind a Lowe’s delivery truck. One was standing, and the other was sitting on the bank of sand on the side of the road.
I slowed down and rolled down a window.
“You guys ok?”
The first guy said he was trying to fix the lift gate which was collapsed on the gravel behind the truck. He had his phone in one hand and some tools on the back of the truck.
“Do you have phone service?” I asked. “I can call someone when I get to Newberry.”
I couldn’t understand his answer, so I got out the the car and walked over and introduced myself. The first guy was Joseph, and the second was Jose. Joseph talked about trying to raise the lift gate so that they wouldn’t have to wait. Jose sat vaguely smiling but otherwise saying nothing.
“The last time this happened,” Joseph said, “they didn’t send anyone until late in the day.”
“Do you have water?” I asked.
“Two bottles.”
I turned and went to the car and opened my ice chest.
“Here,” I said, handing them a half gallon of water.
Joseph said that he had cell service and mumbled again about fixing the lift gate.
“I’m won’t be much use to you,” I said. Then I asked, “What about food? Do you have anything to eat?”
They didn’t. I was imagining them stuck on the side of this forlorn one-lane road waiting hours for help to arrive. So I went back to the car and pulled out a jar of peanut butter, a bag of cashews, and a box of crackers.
“Here,” I said, setting the food on the back of the truck. “This isn’t much, but it might help … although I’m not sure how you’ll deal with the peanut butter. You’ll figure something out.”
Joseph smiled. “Thanks. We’ll figure something out.”
Joseph and I talked a bit more. Jose continued to sit on the sand. Then I said I needed to get going.
“Good luck, you guys!”
“Thanks,” Joseph said. “I appreciate you.”
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