Author: Jennifer Watson
Miracles do happen.
I know that’s true because National Public Radio recently did a series on life on Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Not a story, mind you, but a whole series.
I spent most of my childhood in the lower half of Michigan (“the mitten,” as we Michiganders call it). The Upper Peninsula—also known as the UP—is the cold place up north that hardly anyone ever visits. Hunters, anglers and snowmobilers maybe, but few others. Those who grow up there are called Yoopers, and they’re a hardy people who can withstand endless, bitter winters. (In case you’re wondering, Yoopers call the down-state people Trolls.)
Yoopers don’t complain a lot, and they work hard. And they live their lives without much attention from the rest of the world. A state tourism campaign recently featured maps of Michigan without the Upper Peninsula. This was a slight even by Yooper standards, so a state senator introduced a bill requiring the full state to be pictured. (Yoopers also produced bumper stickers with their own Yooper-dialect version of the state slogan, “Say yes to Michigan!” – thus the title of this blog entry.)
Yooper is a funny-sounding word, and it was easy to smile over stories from this remote corner of the United States. As I listened, though, I found myself thinking about all the wonderful small towns and the historic, architectural and cultural riches they contain. They get a lot less attention than the cities, but they shape and reflect the character of our country just as much.
NPR was smart to host a series on the Upper Peninsula. We can’t understand the United States without understanding its small towns. I was born, raised and educated in a few of them, but our country is full of small-town gems. In fact, there’s a Web site that lists some of the best in America by theme (best peanut town, best windmills, best Spanish architecture, etc.).
Take a look and see if you agree with the rankings. And if you don’t, hit the back roads to find a few gems of your own.
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My husband and I are beginning to plan a late fall road trip to the UP. Hopefully next October will find us checking out the turning leaves, drinking lots of fresh cider, and eating pasties (traditional meat pie meal eaten by miners).
We lived in a house in Houghton (across the bay from Hancock) on a steep hill above Mich Tech. How steep? Our dining room view was the neighbor's master bedroom. The Mich Tech ass't hockey coach lived across the alley from us along with a number of hockey players. Carol and I became avid hockey fans because of this. The hockey rink at that time was a World War II Quanset hut. The only heated part were the locker rooms and the snack stand that was added on. No one was worried about what was worn, you dressed to stay warm. This rink also had an original Zamboni -- a World War II jeep with the tank above the driver. That began my interest in Zambonis and led to my attending the Zamboni driving school at the Salt Lake Winter Olympics.
As you know Ann was born in the Hancock hospital during our second year in Hancock. She became the pet of the Nuns that ran the hospital. They fed her, took care of her and often came to our house to feed her. The Nuns had a fit with me because when Ann was 3 months old (Thanksgiving) I was feeding her pumpkin pie and whipped cream. They were all over me about what a proper father should be doing.
There are many more stories about our time as Yoopers and the great food Pasties but I sign off for now.
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