I’ve written about my friend before. Soon I’ll even be able to name her because circumstances are a-changin’ for her, and she will no longer be anonymous! I can’t wait.
I was told to get ready in 30 minutes, and I really wasn’t told what was up, other than it was a “posh” event. I have no “posh” clothes. I’ve been a mom for 7 years living in the suburbs. Posh isn’t in my vocabulary. She suggested some clothing, then said sternly, “Do NOT wear any pair of jeans you own. Seriously. I am not kidding.” She’s a fashion snob. Apparently my jeans are not tight enough. I showed up showered and in something that could pass for acceptable if not posh, and a ridiculous pair of shoes I would spend the rest of the evening regretting.
We headed immediately to the Berkeley Hotel and caught the tail-end of Jason Tesauro (Barboursville Vineyards) talking about food, using sabres to open champagne, and pretending to be a valet in order to “borrow” an unsuspecting guest’s beautiful convertible Volvo. Appetizers consisted of things hard to pronounce. Words like “mango mignette” do not appear on the Chili’s Kids Menu. I’m sure Whine Me will talk in depth about the food, but I committed to tasting everything and anything last night.
My favorite part of the pre-game was the Brut. Good god, I don’t normally love sparkling wine unless it’s mixed with peach puree or a lot of orange juice, but this one? I wanted to bathe in it, then take it home and marry it. I don’t drink much but I managed to inhale two glasses of it while attempting to take pictures. Jason astounded us all by teaching us what sabering a bottle of sparkling wine means. It’s exactly as it sounds. Take one man in a southern hat and orange cuff links. Add one saber with a tassle plus one bottle of Brut. Place aforementioned hat half a block away, and cut the top off the bottle with the saber. Goal: land cork into hat. Jason missed, but not by much.
Notice in the second picture that the top of the bottle is completely gone. Color me giggly and impressed.
Also, note to guys everywhere. If you want to be considered the sexiest man alive, learn a lot about wine, be funny, and drop words like “perspicacious” and “unctuous” into your dialogue. Jason is taken, unfortunately for Richmond women, but men everywhere would be getting a lot more action if they talked about wine using lover’s language: voluptuous. sensual. complex. rich. limp. Yes, he actually said limp.
After the appetizer portion, we wandered into the dining room. My friend has raved about the Berkeley’s chef - and she rarely raves about anything unless she is very, very impressed.
It was a five-course wine dinner, so every course was paired perfectly with a Barboursville wine. Again, I’m going to let Whine Me Dine Me delve into the specifics because frankly, I know only slightly more about food than I do wine (read: nothing!). I just know what tastes good to me and my unrefined palate.
First course: spiced seared scallops with an avocado mousse. I love any kind of scallop and this was no exception. I spent a lot of time trying to take pictures without a flash but in dark, romantic lighting, so forgive the end result.
I even liked the wine - it was delicious and paired perfectly. Of course it was.
Jason entertained us as well:
The guests were fabulous, friendly, smart, and funny. I love meeting new people - so the conversation was on par with the food and wine.
I mowed through the scallops with less than desirable decorum, and waited for the second course. Chespeake Bay Crab Cakes in a roasted corn sauce. I’m old-fashioned (and boring) but these crab cakes were so delicious on their own, the corn sauce just distracted me. By the way, Chef Ty uses no filler - I think we were told a salmon mousse held them together. Whatever it was, I ate it all.
Between the courses, Jason would introduce the next wine and teach us about it, how it was made, what the differences are, what makes Barboursville special. I’ve heard sommeliers speak before, but Jason was the best I’ve heard because he makes it funny. Whenever I think about wine education, I picture some Donald Sutherland-like character droning in a British or French accent about bouquet and legs and grapes. Instead, Jason moved around the room switching accents depending on the wine (though at one point, he sounded exactly like Borat instead of an Italian). I actually retained some of what he said - even after the 4th or 5th glass of wine.
Course 3 was interesting. I have never seen a live quail, let alone a roasted one. I was a bit shocked when it came out to me looking like this:
I started giggling. My quail looked exactly like it was a miniature chicken, lounging on a hammock of arugula, wings back, legs crossed. It was just chilling out there, waiting for me to pick its tiny bones apart and suck them dry. (by the way, I’m sure the chef would love my food descriptions, and this is why it’s both a blessing and a curse letting a non-foodie into your restaurant to describe your delicacies as a lounging chicken)
I ate the quail. All of it. Not sure I’d ever order it again - I kept waiting for mine to stand up and start dancing - but it was an interesting experience.
Lamb next. Yeah, I can totally do lamb. And I did.
Those who know me will not be surprised to learn that the 5th course was my favorite. A wonderful dessert wine paired with delicious cheese and local honey (the creamed honey was my hands-down favorite - so thick it would give peanut butter a run for its money). The blue cheese dipped in clover honey can also come home and marry me and the Brut. Food polygamy for the win!
My personal thanks go to Ken Wall, the catering manager, Tom Yeaman who now made me want to move to Nicaragua with my children, and the general manager from the Omni (Pete) sitting to my right. Big massive thanks to Whine Me Dine for me bringing a food ludite as her guest, and of course to Jason Tesauro who let someone technically described as a mom blogger take pictures and write about his evening.
(moving on . . . )
After, we headed over the Juleps to say a final farewell to Jason. Some of the other wine dinnerites were there as well. Juleps was celebrating earth day with organic cocktails. Personally, I’ll take non-organic any day, but I was a good sport and tried something with 100% organic girl scouts in it. I don’t know - it was something called a Double Thin Mint Cookie or something. It tasted more girl scout than cookie, but thankfully Jeff Green was there to drink the rest of my swill. Nothing goes to waste in that group of people - if it has alcohol in it.
I finally met - in person - the infamous Nathan Hughes (@rvabusiness). Chad Brown and Cameron Parker showed up and began buying everyone drinks. We determined it was time to leave the relatively tame and elegant atmosphere of Juleps for what could possibly be the loudest bar in Richmond - Cha Cha’s. I was told it was right around the corner. Remember the shoes? Cha Cha’s is NOT right around the corner when wearing 3” heels. NOTHING is right around the corner.
More drinks. I watched everyone dance, including one particularly drunk man standing on a table until forcibly removed from the bar. I’m surprised he didn’t split his head open. I also witnessed the Richmond Police moving people out of the bars at 2 am. It was like watching drunk cattle weave from one side of the street to the other. I was the only sober one there - because my friend was getting her car so I wouldn’t have to walk “right around the corner” to get it with her. It was a case-study in young, dumb, and full of . . . hormones. The police officer kept shouting at me, “What are you waiting for? Move on!” The third time I said, “I’m waiting on a ride, sir!” he finally got the point and stopped harassing me. A drunk vision of a sorority girl shouted at him, “Dude, can you tase me?” He actually made eye contact and said, “If I was carrying one right now, your wish would be my command.” I nearly peed myself laughing.
I am without kids for the next few days, so I ended up sleeping at Whine Me’s beautiful new house. I pretended it was mine for a moment, stole a book from her shelf, and finally slept around 3 AM. She recently had an encounter with what she called a “rottweiler spider” (i.e., a spider so huge and ugly she said she could hear it barking at her), so I carefully checked under my bed and every wall before turning out the lights.
All in all: a fabulous evening with amazing people. I am not worthy, people. Truly.
Lately I’ve been brewing up a cup o’ chai tea (instead of paying $4 for it at Starbucks) and using the time to think about what’s going on. As nap mat season winds down, and so does my patience, I’m fnding those few moments of downtime per day very necessary.
I went out and stayed out way too late last night. I went to what’s becoming traditional among a few of the #hashbrownnetworkers - going to see Richmond Varietease’s Burlesque show at Canal Club. A few of us met up before for dinner, and a larger group met at the club to see the show. I think I may be in love with Ms. Magnolia Pickett Burnside, the 6’ + drag queen who hosts the shows. It’s especially endearing that her entire extended family shows up, including her mother and grandmother. Talk about familial support! They also had this Mab, Just Mab woman - she freaked me out. She isn’t a burlesque dancer, but she’s sort of a circus sideshow-y kind of person First she blew up a totally-not-kidding 6 foot balloon, and swallowed it whole (a lot of sexual innuendo right there). In the second act, she showed a 6” hairpin up her nostril and, as she shouted, “into the center of my brain!”. Then she had some unsuspecting dude pull it out. For her final act, friends and fellow goofballs @TheCheckoutGirl and @WxDan ended up as her helpers during her “bed of nails” display. Dan first stood on her chest while she lay on the bed of nails. Then TCG put a concrete block on her stomach and Dan broke it into bits with a hammer. They got to keep pieces of the concrete block as memorials. It was pretty cool. Another RVA twitterer, @laptopmnky, won the best dance of the evening award. I’ve never seen a white boy break out like he did. There was the Running Man dance, some moonwalkish steps, and a lot of soul. He deserved to win. Hopefully he’ll even wear the pasties he got.
We all had a good time. I embarrassed myself a few times, notably when I asked, “Oh, is this bar new?” and was informed that no, actually, it had been there at least 4 years. Did I mention I don’t get out much? I woke up at 4 AM with a crap stomach - the combo french toast/drinking was not a good one on the old intestines.
Which brings me to the comment I just made to Mike, something along the lines of “Do you really not mind me going out without you occasionally?” He assures me that No, He Really Does Not Mind. Mike’s not really a social person. He’d be perfectly happy if he had his immediate family, an endless supply of beer, and access to the Dallas Cowboys and Philadelphia Flyers. I sometimes feel badly because for me, getting out and doing things that don’t revolve around my children gives me a lot more patience and I genuinely enjoy them more when I come home. Then I worry that I am not spending enough time making sure Mike and I do enough together. A lot of our common interests are difficult because they require us to hire a babysitter, which costs money we are trying not to spend. We used to go out in Richmond constantly – any time a new restaurant opened, we tried it. We used to like doing yardwork and landscaping together, but now generally one of us has to be in the house to make sure Arden or Lily isn’t killing the other sister. We love skiing, but seriously, it’s so expensive. And the skiing in Virginia is not all that.
I just need to get over feeling like a bad mother and wife because I have different interests than my husband. For him, the idea of hanging out with a group of people who talk about php and tweets and marketing and writing is about as appealing as a Lifetime Movie Marathon, but for me, it’s a lot of fun.
A quick note about the HashBrowners: @jasonkenney was intereviewed by Richmond.com for starting the phenomenon. He seemed nonplussed by it, but I was psyched for him. He should get some credit for single-handedly making one waitress at the Waffle House a very rich woman. They are insanely busy during HBN events. HBN has been great for me, selfishly, because a.) I usually get to have dinner with The Checkout Girl before the networking commences, and it’s great for girl talk and b.) it’s sort of like going home for me. I feel comfortable in that group, whereas I’ll freely admit that sometimes my suburban life feels as comfortable as an extremely tight straightjacket. It’s a once-a-week permission slip to just be myself without worrying about who thinks what, and that is well worth the price of some tea and hash browns.
I’m too cheap to pay for wireless while I sit here in Chicago, waiting for my connecting flight to Richmond. Speaking of wireless, I’ve gotten used to it being free at RIC – so I am always a combination of surprised/annoyed when the majority of airports want you to pay for it. Why it should be free when nothing else is (including checked baggage), I don’t know.
I feel like I did when I left Vegas after the Maya’s Mom meetup. Bleary. Sleep-deprived. Happy I went. Relieved that it’s over (the anxiety part). Glad to head home. This trip, I also leave with a feeling of homesickness. Even though my home is officially Richmond now, Northern Michigan will always be home to me.
Thursday was a whirlwind. I had to get up at 4.15 in the morning, and didn’t go to bed until 1 AM. Driving in my unfabulous Toyota Yaris rental, I nearly caused an accident trying to take pictures as I drove. I also experienced something I hadn’t in quite a while: an onslaught of memories over which I had no control. They were equally random, funny, sad, and nostalgic. A parking lot where I broke up with someone. Another parking lot where someone dumped me. Clinch Park and beach, where a seagull pooped on a friend’s shoulder. The Bardon’s Wonder Freeze. A crumbling, decrepit and ultimately sad-looking building my parents used to own, containing the parking lot I first drove on my own from – at 16.
I had lunch with Tricia at a great spot overlooking a marina and the West Bay. We did a lot of hugging and screaming (she may have also meowed a bit too).
As it was with most of my friends from high school, time didn’t seem to matter with Tricia. Sure, we had a lot of catching up to do, but there was no awkwardness or sense of not knowing each other. We picked up where we left off back in 1990. As we crisscrossed our pasts, filled with various exclamation points and non sequiturs, we both realized that in terms of our friendship very little time had passed. Tricia has changed and so have I – we’re both what I would call “responsible adults and mothers”, we don’t wear black (all the time), and our childhood pets have died. Other than that, sense of humors are still intact as well as the ability to be goofy and laugh at ourselves.
After lunch with Tricia, she gave me a tour of her place of gainful employment. She waved happily at all the elderly (she runs the financial end of a continuing care facility so nice I couldn’t wait to get Alzheimer’s and end up there), introduced me to her coworkers, and told me how to get to Julie’s house.
I hadn’t seen Julie since I graduated, and now she’s a PhD (pronounced “PHUD”) working at Munson. It was a trip to see her grown up. She immediately whipped out a photo album and proceeded to humiliate me with all the pictures I had burned sometime after college. Two things you should know about Julie: she remembers everything, and she keeps everything. Fair warning. I loved her townhouse, and was shocked to feel fresh air. What is that? People can leave their windows open – in August! Seems like a lot still don’t have a/c – don’t need it very often. When I heard from Mike that Richmond was in a heat wave, I giggled. I will also giggle when it’s January and 60-ish in Virginia and Julie is buried to her neck in snow. It just reinforced to me that we need to make enough money to buy a summer home in TC and winter in anywhere other than Michigan.
I didn’t have to force her at gunpoint into my car for a tour down memory lane, which was nice. She was very patient with me as I pelted her with questions and tooled around on the Peninsula. The weather was absolutely gorgeous – mid 70’s, low humidity, clear and bright. Out near Old Mission Lighthouse even the water felt welcoming, rare for Northern Michigan, even in August. I went camera crazy. Julie put together a playlist on her iPod of, and I quote, “Bad 80’s Music”, which set the mood nicely.
Since so many people had warned me about the changes on the peninsula, I wasn’t that shocked. I was even pleasantly surprised that so many areas out there have not been touched – much. Some of the cherry orchards and spectacular views remain the same.
The house my parents built when we first moved to Traverse City looks like holy hell. It never looked like much from the street to begin with. It’s set back from the road, and all of the windows are on the back of the house. From the front, it looks like a tiny ranch. No one has kept up the wood, and it’s a combination of rotting and fading depending on what part of the house you look at. It was frankly depressing. The only thing that reminded me of the better years was the stone chimney. The people were home so I couldn’t really pull up the driveway and start snapping pictures.
Julie and I headed back to downtown TC and had dinner at Bubba’s. Mine was great; Julie’s dinner resulted in wicked food poisoning. The best part was seeing Julie calmly and kindly deal with what seemed like a wave of elderly people, tugging at their ears or in some cases, removing their hearing aids to tell her something was not right, or to apologize for not coming in more regularly, or ask her if she can do a tune-up right there on the spot in the middle of a crowded bar/restaurant. She just patted them and told them to call her secretary for an appointment.
Tricia and I stayed up WAY too late Thursday night talking, but we were both up early on Friday, ready for our trip to Sleeping Bear Sand Dunes. Her son was so excited to go he apparently couldn’t sleep.
Empire is one of my favorite spots. I love the “downtown”, if you can call the 2 blocks a downtown. There are a couple of restaurants, a couple of shops, what used to be an IGA store and a post office. I don’t credit Paul Linden with a lot, but I do credit him with introducing me to many areas of northern Michigan I never would have seen had he not dragged me around with him one summer.
We first hit the dune climb. Sam loved it, and kept wanting us to go up further into the dunes. Tricia and I huffed and groaned to the top of the dunes, then took a bunch of pictures. I told Sam the best part of the dune climb was the running down part, and he didn’t disappoint, kicking up a big sand storm and managing not to fall until the very end. Then we hit the Pierce Stocking scenic road, took more touristy pictures, and nearly passed out from the stench of the outhouses near an overlook point.
After starving Tricia for the morning while she chauffeured me around, we met up with my friend Christina and her two beautiful daughters and husband for lunch in Empire. We had a world famous burger (and it was pretty good – worth blowing my Weight Watchers points over) and hit the ice cream store for dessert. Even though it was brief, it was great meeting Christina and the rest of the Koenigs. Funny that she lives in the Detroit metro area, yet I ended up meeting her in Empire because her vacation coincided with my 20 year reunion.
One of the high points of my trip was going back to North Bar, although we always called it Christmas Cove when I was growing up. Back in the day, it was a sort of hidden beach, not known to “fudgies” or tourists and the perfect spot for a bunch of high schoolers to build bonfires, party and escape. It’s almost a perfectly enclosed section of water. On one side of the dunes, there is the open water. On the other, a sheltered and peaceful place to throw beer bottles and cigarette butts. All joking aside, it is incredibly beautiful.
Now, North Bar has a paved road leading right up to it, a walking trail, and signs pointing to it from the main road. Needless to say, the beach was more crowded than I’ve ever seen it, but still fairly empty by Traverse City standards. Sam immediately went into the water and as is par for the course with him, made friends immediately. Tricia and I sat on a Sam’s towel and did some more catching up. I would have been content to stay there all day but it was getting late and we had dinner plans.
What happens when you get a group of women together? Usually some form of drama. The events leading up to Friday night were typical (arguing about where to meet, what time to meet, who should be there, who shouldn’t), but once Friday night arrived, we all got over ourselves and had a good time. Niki suggested the Holiday Inn because they have a great deck. 20 years ago, the Holiday Inn was cheesy. Guess what? It still is! This horrific band was playing at volume 11, and 5-6 cougars were circling the dance floor looking for reunion meet. Or possibly something younger. Either way, between the Loverboy covers and the bad shoes and hair, it wasn’t really conducive to reconnecting. We made the best of it and stayed for a couple of hours. Nicole and Rene showed up, as well as Michael and his wife Michelle (love her!). Then it was the usual suspects – Allison, Emily, Julie, Tricia, and of course me.
Val was working at Toy Harbor until 9 so we decided to leave the Cougar Den and head to Right Brain Brewery. Unfortunately, Right Brain Brewery was packed to the gills so we got the fabulous idea to buy some brews and head to West End beach. Val met up with us there and presented an extra large bottle of Jagermeister. Poor Val – she hadn’t eaten, everyone except me and Julie were doing shots interspersed with beers. I was drinking Diet Squirt and having the time of my life on that beach. It was beautiful, with a big moon shining in the sky, and not a soul around except for the five of us.
Although we didn’t make a big deal about it, a few of us apparently were mean to others during high school. We made amends as best we could, considering none of us can remember what the arguments were even about. I think Emily bore the brunt of it but she was pretty good-natured about it. Then I remembered how socially incestuous TC is – we sat there figuring out how many of us had dated each other’s boyfriends. It was quite a few.
Suddenly, I heard Val shout, “Good night for skinny dippin’!” I turned to the water to see Val, buck naked, jumping into the lake. Allison and Emily followed suit (or no suit). I decided I probably would never have this chance again, and probably shouldn’t take it anyway, considering both the state of my body and my age, but I stripped down to my bra and underwear, called it a bikini, and jumped in.
Even in August, that water is COLD.
I still can’t put my finger on it. I don’t know why that night was one of the best – at least in the Top 10 Best Nights of All Time. I think it was a combination of relief that so many years had passed, yet we still felt comfortable enough to be real, the beauty of the area we were in, and the knowledge that this probably will not happen again. It was as if for one night, those of us with kids forgot we had them, and acted like we were 18 again. Since no one was around to witness it and therefore laugh, we all just had a great time.
I also really loved that Tricia got a break. Sam was at a friend’s house for the night, I was the designated driver, and we had no curfew. I forced her to eat some Taco Bell (nothing like the Bell when drinking!), I ate some because I was starving, and we headed back to Williamsburg where Tricia lives. I think we finally went to bed around 3 AM.
Saturday morning we futzed around and had breakfast at the Bayview. I realized then how proud I was of Tricia. Her story isn’t mine to tell, but she’s making it on her own as a single mom with very little support from anyone. Not only is she making it, but she’s doing a great job raising Sam. She’s a fabulous mom. Sam is the same age as Lily, and I can’t even imagine how hard it is, doing what she does on a daily basis. One gift I brought back with me from Traverse City was perspective. I gripe and moan about money, about things that I “need”, about how tired I am, how much I work. Then I spent some time with Tricia, and I felt like a little spoiled brat. No one spells her at the end of the day, or takes care of Sam so she can jet off for the weekend with girlfriends. When bills need to be paid, she does it on her own – sacrificing a lot of her own wants and needs so that Sam has what HE needs.
Val has a similar story. Julie is on her own too, though instead of a child she has what could possibly be the biggest cat I’ve ever seen in my life. I wonder why so many of my friends are still single, and decided that it is because most of the male population up there, in our age bracket, kind of sucks. I also had to remind myself that I wasn’t a total loser for basically being a stay-at-home mom with this weird job I do that will eventually, hopefully, possibly, make money one day. Nothing can make you feel lazy and spoiled like being a SAHM around a bunch of brilliant and talented hard-working women.
Hopefully I talked Tricia into driving down here for Spring Break with Sam and her 110 pound mutt Oscar. I’d like to be able to take care of her like she did for me (those early morning Chai beverages were stellar!). And I like to be able to give her a little break from her life as well.
She wanted to hit me for mimicking her accent by the end of the weekend, but it was so darn kee-yoot that I could not help myself. By the end of day 3, I sounded like I was from Northern Michigan again and there you have it. You can take me out of Northern Michigan but you can’t take the cheeky “Oooh, yahs!” out of me.
Another thing that kept happening: everyone kept saying, “Oh my GAWD, you’re seewwwww TAN!” or, “What’s up with dat TAN??” It was a little annoying. Apparently everyone in Michigan is pasty white and I stood out like a sore thumb (Michigan pun intended). I finally just played along and said that I love tanning, have a tanning bed in my living room as the focal point, and spend my days sipping martinis, tanning, and getting my hair and nails done. I’m livin’ the dream, peoples. Livin’ the dream.
Saturday afternoon I headed over to see Pat (I mean Patrick) and his wife Jessica and newish baby, Henry. I was pretty nervous, especially after my GPS crapped out on me halfway there and I had to call and act like a dork because I had no idea how to get to his house. I haven’t seen Pat since he and Francis visited me in Ann Arbor in 1993, and let it be said that none of us were fully functional that evening. Since then, Pat’s written and published a book, is working on another one, gotten married, raised a nice Westie named Stubing, and had a baby. Pat used to date Allison. I always loved Pat. He let me be a third wheel without being too annoyed by it, and he made me laugh at lot. I had also forgotten how quiet Pat could be, so mostly I spent the two hours in their fabulous house babbling like an idiot and trying to hug on Henry as much as possible. I’m sure when their front door closed and I was speeding away in my Yaris, they both breathed a sigh of relief and said, “Thank God Chatty Cathy has gone back to where she came from.” I really liked Jessica and wished she lived close by – she’s the type of person I’d love to hang out with and annoy with my incessant nervous chatter.
Julie let me get ready at her house for the big reunion, and Tricia met up with us there. The reunion was held in a local brewery owned by one of our classmates. It was a great idea and nice of him to rent out the place for 4 hours to us, but it wasn’t really conducive to “reunioning”. I heard there were about 280 people there, and in a small area with music blasting, it was nearly impossible to move, let alone converse. After the magic that was Friday night, Saturday was kind of a letdown. I tried to focus on the positive and hunted down a few people I wanted to see, like Amy and Rick Epps. I still didn’t get a chance to see some other people, but after 2+ hours I had a splitting headache and a very great need to escape.
The usual suspects met up at another local restaurant called Blue Tractor, and we had dinner. Tricia was paying a babysitter, so we didn’t stay for very long. Julie and I celebrated 20 years of missed birthdays with a large hunk of chocolate cake, then we headed out.
Sunday I got up early and picked up Allison. We were having breakfast with Philip and his wife Mary. When I first got to TC I was really nervous about it and didn’t want to go. I just felt like I was going to be judged, but I’m not sure why I felt that way. Philip is really not judgmental and from what I’d heard about Mary, neither is she.
I’m so glad I went, because we met at a great place called Patisserie Amie (to quote Allison, “When the hell did Traverse City get hip, and why wasn’t it like this when we lived here?!?”). As soon as we sat down I relaxed and enjoyed the entire experience. It could have been weird having breakfast across the table from your high school boyfriend and first love, especially when his beautiful wife is there too, but it wasn’t. I came away from breakfast thinking that if I lived in TC, they were still two people I’d like to hang out with.
The rest of my last day was spent cruising around to all the places I hadn’t been, most notably the State Hospital. When I first moved to TC, the hospital was still open. I remember it closing – they literally kicked a ton of certifiable people into the streets. They had no place to go. The residents were not happy with the influx of “street people”. And can you imagine being a street person in Michigan, during the winter? Not conducive to sleeping in parks!
Anyway, the State Hospital fell into disrepair. That’s probably an understatement. It looked like something out of a movie – beautiful architecture, crumbling bricks, broken windows, ghost stories, and lots of trees. I will let the pictures I took tell the story but it was so inspiring to see how much work has been done to bring it back into useful space, while preserving the roots. And hopefully getting rid of the ghosts. Some of those buildings still give me a very creepy feeling.
To thank Tricia for putting up with me, I took her and Sammy out to dinner at Stella. It was as fabulous as the hype. She got all weepy on me but it really was a pleasure being able to do something nice for her. We stayed up too late again, and I spent the next half hour weeping nostalgically and trying to get organized for my early morning flight.
True to form, Tricia got up at 5 and said goodbye to me.
A couple of observations from the plane: part of my nostalgia was also sadness. Much as I bitched about it, I wish I could raise my own kids in the Midwest. The people there are different. They are direct, unpretentious, and friendly. I had to retrain myself not to recoil when strangers talked to me in restaurants or on the street, because I’m not used to that level of friendliness. I’m not going to bash Richmond – it’s not about that – but there are some major cultural differences between Michigan and Richmond. Some of them I like, some I really wish I could change. In terms of the values and how people are to each other, I much prefer the Midwest to where I live now. I realized how Southern Fried I’ve become when I showed up for the reunion completely overdressed. Did I forget we were in Traverse City? More than half showed up in jeans. Truthfully, I am more a jeans person than a cocktail dress person – but I’ve had to adapt to my setting here.
Secondly, I desperately miss the water. I miss the smaller town, too. As I came home from the airport, I realized it was the first time in 5 days I’d been on a highway. There are no true highways in Traverse City. It drove me crazy because the traffic is horrid, but it was also really nice. Everything is close, and familiar. Every place you go, there is water. Rivers, lakes, inlets, people canoeing and kayaking, swimming, you name it. Since I left, Traverse City has become a place full of active people and is full of hiking and biking trails. Thankfully we have the James River so I can pretend it’s actually part of the Great Lakes.
I’m positive there is a ton I’m forgetting, but in answer to the question: Yes, I’m really glad I went back. I hope I can bring my family next time.
Wanna see all the pictures? Here they are.
