Huzzah!

I understand that Sleeping Bear Dunes on Michigan’s west coast was touted as the “Most Beautiful Place in America” by one of the network morning shows. Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!

These “most,” “best,” “fastest,” “smartest,” etc. awards are especially gratifying when they acknowledge those things and places with which one has a connection – and are easily dismissed as “popularity” contests or rigged voting when one hasn’t a connection.

Case in point: Forbes Magazine recently published their best colleges or universities in the U.S. and listed my undergraduate alma mater as number 60 and my current place of employment (and where I attended graduate school) as number 93. It’s been fun playfully rubbing the nose of some in these findings, but all know that when the wind shifts, the measure changes, and the judges recalibrate their standards, all bets are off.

Regardless, I’ve just spent five days in Northern Michigan – about 60 miles north of the 45th Parallel – meaning I was closer to the North Pole than the Equator. No (as a note to my friends in the South), there were no igloos nor sled dogs. There were, however, vineyards, stellar golf courses, multiple star restaurants and gems such as the Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island.

Most importantly, I was in the company of some amazing people . . . two families allowed me to tag along as an adopted uncle, son, cousin, brother. As a private note to a few, thank you for your acceptance, generosity, and kindness!

My drive home today took me down the aorta of Michigan – US-127. Mostly a two lane expressway (well, there are a few areas where speeds are lowered and businesses abutted the byway), it was a delight to drive. . .especially since it (currently) had all of two quarter-mile construction zones – most unusual for a Michigan road in the summer (we kid that the most recognizable sign of summer isn’t “Leo” but rather, orange barrels).

Instead of going directly home, I stopped at friends on Clarklake – an area conveniently incorporated for the sake of property taxes that consist of a lake spanning a couple of miles wide, small coastal bars and convenience stores, and a number of homes ranging from multi-million dollar abodes to others that deserve a bulldozer and a rebuilding plan. My hosts, another virtual familial extension, treated me to a progressive meal of freshly imported olive oil and bread, a Venice inspired sardine plate, and a neighborhood potluck that brought gourmet goodies and down home fare . . . there was, of course, the mandatory “raft ride” around the lake more than partially fueled by libations!

I can only hope that any readers of these musings have the depth and joy found in the friendships I enjoyed this week. I can happily report that my face aches from smiling, my voice rasps from laughing, and my palate is purring like a kitten.

My arrival home was punctuated with discoveries in the garden and the promise of familiar pillows and linen . . . time for sleep. I hope everyone can anticipate a happy weekend!