It is supposed to be springtime here in Northern Michigan……but
it ain’t.
It is April 8th or so and it is basically a blizzard
outside my window. Michiganders historically complain about the weather, and
have full rights to do so on any given day outside of July 27th. That day, July 27th, tends to be
the only day in the entire year that Michiganders universally mutter to
themselves…eh, it’s alright out there today, I shall go for a walk.” That is thee one and only day. Otherwise
the never-happy inhabitants post about the weather, mutter explicatives
regarding the corruption of picnic planning, and corporately complain like a
humongous group of demented lemmings.
Not only is it a cultural issue in our great state, It is
our right and our heritage. Two-hundred and fifty years ago or so, when the
first travelers arrived in Michigan and met with the native Michiganders, I am
sure the conversation went something like this:
“Bonjour! (Most likely some French dudes were first arrivals)
I am Jean Claude Detroit, I am here to settle this land (in French that means,
take it without permission) and send you to a casino somewhere around Mt.
Pleasant…. and hey, what the heck? It is
freezing right now, but this morning I was roasting to death in my raccoon cap.”
“I am Chief Ojibwa….I am really not fond of your settlement
plan but your reflection on the weather is most astute. We have been dancing
for rain for three weeks and sure enough, it snowed on the last day! And yesterday,
the humidity in the wigwam was wretched and now I am wrapped head to toe in
deer hides. Go figure!”
Henceforth, the weather bond between all people Michigan has
prevailed.
Although old man winter will not liberate us from his icy grip,
no one has seemed to relay that message to the poor birds arriving from Florida
or the local children at the middle school. The geese, robins, and cranes that
have settled in during the last week have a bleak look of astonishment on their
little bird faces. The children, in some unified, facebook- initiated protest, are
wearing shorts and t-shirts into the school despite three feet of snow still
remaining on the ground.
The expression of our feathered-friends matches the other snow
birds that arrived home this week, my in-laws. Once out of the car here in
Northern Michigan I am certain they contemplated getting right back in, turning
around and heading back to Fort Meyers. To be honest, at this point in April, I
would ride strapped to the roof to join them.
Feeling rebellious, and despite the call of the local ski
resorts to spend yet one more dollar on another deep-fried Twinkie at the hillside restaurant, we put away all of the skis, boots, snow pants, shovels, snowball
makers, helmets, goggles, and sleds. That task completed and liberating, I will
now plan on joining the middle-school protest and will begin wearing my
flip-flops and bathing suit to Meijer, all the while wading through the slush and ice…(just kidding, that bathing suit is not emerging until July 27th, you have been subsequently warned.)
And I am going….
As soon as it stops raining outside…
Ah, Michigan!
