One of my favorite activities to do while passing time driving up north is to poke fun at the local "news" stories. These are events that have wreaked havoc and caused chaos in many of the small northern Michigan communities. These scandals pale in comparison to those that have occurred in my hometown of Detroit. "Kwami-Gate" and the "Underwear Bomber" both trump "Joe Bob Flugerheim Just Bought An '03 Chevy" or "Ted Konwicki Found Dear Tracks In His Garden".
As much as I make fun of these small town escapades, the truth is I secretly envy it. Wouldn't it be nice to live in a community where the crime rate is so low that the biggest news event of the week is the town drunk ran the only stop-light in the county-again. What women doesn't dream of being one of the local housewives in her best gingham housecoat gathered around Mrs. Peabody's kitchen table playing Bridge while gossiping about the local tribulations. What man wouldn't trade places with one of the local fellas who, dressed in their finest waders, gather in front of the local Bait-N-Go to debate whether or not the story on page three of the Presque Isle Advance is true- Did Clyde Owens really spot "The Monster", the fabled prehistoric size trout living in the depths of Long Lake?
One particular story Anthony read out loud to me as we were driving up north one day last summer had to do with the local high school's graduating class. It was a very upbeat, positive article reporting that 58 of the 60 students of the class of 2010 were planning on attending a university or community college. We both remarked how this was an excellent percentage for such a small farming town. "Good for them" I said as we drove past our 257th cow. We then proceeded to a more important story "Ten Girls Vow For Miss Potato Queen". I've accurately predicted the winners just from their pictures five years in a row, so the pressure was on.
The following day was absolutely gorgeous. The kind of summer day that Michiganders live for. Sunny, 80 degrees, no humidity and just enough wind to keep the mosquito's away. One lesson we learned through the years of going to our rustic cabin is to try not to forget anything. Since our only transportation is by boat, if we need to go to the store, it's quite an event. If we're lucky enough that the item in question is carried by the only store on the lake, all we have to do is pull the boat up to their dock and go inside, but if it's something hard to come by, such as chocolate milk, we have to boat to the marina, get into our car and drive to the closest I.G.A. Immediately after breakfast we began to mull over dinner options. Pizza or cheeseburgers (yes, healthy eating is of the utmost importance on the island). Either way we'd have to go to shore as we didn't have pepperoni's or hamburger buns. Later in the day, when it was time to make the journey, I opted to stay on the island and do some chores, in other words, take a nap.
As Anthony was speeding away, I noticed the time, 3:00, a perfect time for my afternoon siesta. As I laid down on the hammock, the gentle sounds of the lapping waves put me immediately to sleep. I was out a solid hour before I woke up and realized Anthony had been gone longer than usual. Either the store didn't have what he needed and he had to drive into town or he was abducted by pirates. Another half hour went by and I was starting to think that maybe Captain Hook had indeed invaded Grand Lake. I was seriously beginning to worry. At 5:00, I heard the familiar sound of our pontoon zipping across the lake. Once docked I questioned what had taken so long. It turns out it wasn't due to pirates or a lack of pepperoni's, it's even better.....
As Anthony was approaching the marina, he noticed a motionless boat in the middle of the lake with two passengers waving their arms. Occasionally, boaters run into trouble and need assistance. We've been in this situation ourselves and when someone stops to help, it's like the cavalry has arrived. As Anthony pulled up, the two occupants admitted they had been out all day and simply ran out of gas. "No problem" Anthony said, and he proceeded to tie their boat to ours and helped the two teenagers onto our boat. He was heading to the marina anyway, so it just a small inconvenience on his part but a huge help for them.
At this point in his story, I started to really be grateful I wasn't there. I have a hard time carrying conversations with teenagers, especially "up north teenagers". They seem to speak in a special back-roads kind of way. It's a language I'm truly illiterate in. I get anxiety even thinking about the kind of conversation I would attempt: "What is the pregnancy rate at your school?" or "Are your gym showers private or open?". I'm really much better just abstaining from these situations altogether. Anthony, on the other hand, has the ability to carry on great chats with this age group. "Where do you go to school?" he inquired. The girl in the Led Zepplin tee shirt and mullet inspired hair answered that she and her pal (see I say things like "pal") had just graduated from Posen High School. "Wow", Anthony replied "I just read that 58 out of 60 kids were going off to college". He went on by telling them how impressed he was by this number. "Can you imagine being one of the two that aren't going" he continued, "how embarrassing for them!" Now, I'm sure you can guess where this is going. At that moment, the two prodigals proudly announced "Well, that would be us, we both got real good jobs at the local Wal-Mart paying ten bucks an hour". In a situation where I would have simply plugged my nose, jumped off the boat and drowned, Anthony replied with "well, good for you, you're parents must be so proud".
A few minutes later (although I'm sure it seemed like decades) the threesome finally reached the safety of shore. The two grateful teens thanked Anthony and began filling up their gas tank. Before leaving them, Anthony being the kind Catholic that he is, went inside and secretly paid for their gas.
A year later these questions come to mind:
Do you think they are still at their dream job? Are the majority of the Posen High School Class of 2010 still in college? Does Wal-Mart really start out at $10 per hour and do they carry pepperoni?
I live in a town of 5000, where people don't always lock their doors, the big news this week is about some dentist who may lose his license 30 miles north of us, and where the old people play bingo at McDonald's for free food because, after all, they are there every day anyway.
ReplyDeleteA lot of the graduates go to college just to get away from here, and the rest go from job to job and at some point work at the above mentioned McDonald's, then they proceed to have babies and maybe get married. The best part though is that most everything and everyone is acceptable. Gay, straight, black, white, young old, teeth, no teeth...and there is a lot of no teeth here too, but maybe that is why the dentist is going to lose his license!
The Walmart does sell pepperoni but they sure don't start new employees at $1o an hour!