We live in Michigan. Yes, it has the highest unemployment rate in the United States. Yes, the Detroit Lions had a record of 0-16 for the 2008 football season. Yes, the Tigers finished 2008 in last place in the AL Central division (and lest you think that I actually have this information readily at my disposal, let me just say Thank You to Wikipedia). And it's true that according to Forbes Detroit is the most dangerous city in the U.S.
Big deal.
Can you show where you live by holding up your hands? Yeah, I didn't think so. (For the record, we live up near the top of the middle finger, appropriately enough.)
This is what it looks like up near the top of the middle finger:
Vast expanses of water that give the oceans a run for their money. We get to ski in the extremely long winter, cursing the very season come March, April and May. And we play soccer in June when it's still snowing but we choose to call it sleet and are a little bit thankful that our down coats are still hanging in the front closet. We have drawers full of the top designers: the North Face, Marmot, LLBean, Patagonia, and Isis.
My husband is from Flint. His mother is from Flint. His sister lives in Flint. We live so much farther north that Flint is like an eccentric old uncle you are a little afraid of and kind of feel sorry for. Then, when he's just about to say goodbye, he leans over and slips you a silver dollar and forever you have slightly fond feelings for the guy.
That's Flint.
And this is Flint:
But so is this:
Detroit is another story entirely.
I'm from the Upper Peninsula, the younger, wilder, cheaper sister of the Lower Peninsula. We have an utterly awesomely beautiful bridge that joins the two peninsulas:
The Mackinac Bridge. Never, ever is it pronounced "Mack-i-nack," despite what you've heard. It's always "Mack-i-naw." And it always takes my breath away.
People who live in the UP are called Yoopers, a name we're quite proud of but which is always said with just a hint of a superior sneer by those who aren't and never will be Yoopers. We call the people who live in the Lower Peninsula Trolls since they live below the bridge.
It's all about the bridge.
Detroit is way, way, way below the bridge. But whereas Flint is like your strange but harmless uncle, Detroit is your brother's dangerous friend, the one your parents don't want around the house, the one who is definitely doing things he shouldn't, but the one who would have your back if you were ever caught up in a fight.
Not that that would ever happen.
Sweet Juniper is a beautifully written love song to the city of Detroit and the people who live there. It's a lot more than that, but its bones are Detroit. This is Sweet Juniper's Detroit:
Once thriving, once beautiful, Detroit still has a disheveled elegance, kind of like Little Edie from Grey Gardens:
See the resemblance? This photo, by the way, is from a fantastic Time photo essay that you can find here.
But Detroit and Flint are just two very small, very loud representations of this exquisitely beautiful state. And frankly, if you haven't visited, you're missing out.
I hate to brag, but I've ridden horseback in the mountains. It was stunning. I've seen the Parthenon. I've gazed at the Mediterranean. I've swum in the Caribbean Sea. I've shared a beach with Elle Macpherson (I don't recommend sharing a beach with a supermodel, just a little tip). I've dived with sea turtles on Kauaii. Okay, maybe I like to brag a little bit.
My point is that every place I've been has not been any more beautiful than the place I call home.
Because this, too, is Michigan.
...alison...
