Dear Michigan,
You have always been my constant. It’s something about the water. Save the drive southward—which we’ll get to in due time—I am comfortable within the confines of your proudly peninsular state. When I took that geology class for the second time, my English-majored wanderlust was soothed by the geographic reality of the Michigan basin. read letter
Some places you visit; some places you stay; some places you flee; some places you are. If there is any spot on earth that belongs to me, calls to me, shelters me, it’s this city, Detroit: the grit of Berlin, the green of Eden, the bridge-and-tunnel nearness of another country’s country, the zen emptiness of a monastery, the exquisite Lazarus sense of humor of one who is called dead and still lives…. read letter
Dear Michigan,
I wanted to be true to you. I really did.
When everyone took off after college – to DC, to San Francisco, to Chicago, to New York and Alabama and Oregon and Minnesota and even Kansas, I stayed with you. More accurately, I burrowed deeper into you, away from family and friends and concerts, so sure that anything you had to offer was exactly what I needed. I was going to make a life for myself Up North, and it was going to be glorious. read letter
I have been living in Los Angeles, California, for almost seven months now, but I’m still driving around with your blue and green “Spectacular Peninsula” license plate attached to the bumper of my car. read letter
