In the summertime
It’s summer. The time of year when families go on vacation, kids swim, mosquitoes bite and I start to reminisce about summers in Michigan.
My parents, along with my dad’s parents, would rent a cabin in the U.P. at a little resort called Birch Shores. Every summer we’d go up there for a week or two, rent a cabin and hunker down. We’d fish, swim, play, hike, go see waterfalls and lighthouses, visit Mackinaw Island and just relax. When we lived in Michigan we’d go every summer. Once we moved down to Indiana I think we did it once or twice. That’s quite the trek. Some of my favorite memories of Andrew and I are during those vacations.
Cabin number 10 was on the very edge of Manistique Lake. The beach was sandy and “Pure Michigan.” There were fallen trees between us and the lake (picture above). We would play in those trees, hide things in their nooks and crevices and have a blast.
We’d visit Tahquamenon Falls, Seney Wildlife Refuge and my personal favorite: Kitch-iti-kipi. At least once during our stay, my Grandpa Britton and I would go fishing. My Grandma and I would make blueberry muffins for the trip. Clearly by my face below I was pretty grossed out by the fish…still am really. They’re just so slimy!
When I was growing up, my parents didn’t have a lot of money. There were times we’d drive to church and we weren’t sure how we’d get home. We were out of gas with no funds in the wallet. I didn’t know it at the time. My dad worked two jobs and mom was a freelance graphic artist (rub on Letraset letters and everything!). When we would go on long car rides to our destination, my parents would bring instant oatmeal packets. They’d stop at McDonald’s, order coffee and get hot water. I didn’t know that money was tight. I thought it was a fun idea.
There isn’t a summer that I don’t think about our vacations in the U.P. I think memories are the part that haunts us. Those memories then turn into projections into the future and what is being missed. I don’t know my way around that. I guess there isn’t. We can get lost walking down the lanes of “what should’ve been” but in reality, we’ll never know. That’s what might be the hardest part. I will always feel like there is a part of the puzzle missing. A corner piece. A piece that frames the picture and holds it all together.
