Who Belongs ?

Local crowd? All locals?

These past couple of days, I was really feeling like a stranger here. You forget about it for a while, but then a few things happen and people say things to you in a certain way, and it all adds up. You may be welcome here, but at the end of the day, you’re not part of this. You never have been and you never will be. 

- Steve Hamilton, Die a Stranger (an Alex McKnight novel)

I’ve been thinking again lately about who belongs and who doesn’t, since I’m not “from here,” as we say, and tourists visiting my bookstore in the summer often ask me if I am. Sometimes they are looking for someone or something and wonder if I can give them directions or information; other times they’re merely curious. But no, I’m not “from here.” Born in South Dakota, raised in Illinois, long-time downstate and elsewhere resident until 25 years ago, I don’t have generations of county roots.

Steve Hamilton’s McKnight character, living in Paradise, Michigan, is in a similar position, having moved to the U.P. from Detroit. Do writers, I wonder, working in solitude as they do, relate naturally to solitary fictional characters? Maybe so, but that doesn’t explain the broad appeal to general readers of the outsider, the loner, the one who doesn’t quite fit in.

crowd moseying along

And so, I wonder, is that a feeling we all (or most of us) secretly harbor, the suspicion that we’re on the periphery, looking in? Or — another possibility — do we sometimes feel so surrounded, even crowded, by other people and demands that we like to fantasize ourselves as loners escaping from the crowd? 

Moon -- solitary and serene

Maybe even sometimes one, sometimes the other feeling?What do you think?

…The air was still almost warm. Then the wind picked up and as it hit my face it brought along an unmistakable message. It may be July, and it may feel like summer just got here, but the end is already on its way. The cold, the snow, the ice, the natural basic state of this place, it is right around the corner. 

And oh, yeah, there’s that, too.

Sarah's winter face

August Is Slip-Sliding Away

The Fox Islands -- Leelanau Township offshore

The skies and lakes are blue, the leaves are mostly still green, but it is not mere imagination that sees the first hints of fall color in a few branches of maple or in a roadside ash seedling or wild cherry tree. Summer is a busy time, passing in a blur of color and activity, the cycle of seasons spinning ever faster each year, and so it becomes more important each year to take time for the occasional evening in a colorful crowd -- or in the serene countryside.

Late afternoon sun made colors POP!

Running into an old friend I hadn't seen for years made going to the Northwest Michigan Fair completely worthwhile, and after a big Polish sausage on homemade bun piled high with sauerkraut, David and I made our way to the animal barns, always our prime focus at the fair. 

Freshly bathed

Hungry baby

Suspicious mom

Doe-eyed calf

Good thing Sarah stayed home

Didn't take any photographs of pigs or goats or sheep or chickens but toured through every animal barn before we strolled the colorful lighted midway for a few last shots before the drive home in the dark. Next time we go to the fair, we will try to go on horse-pulling night rather than on the evening of the tractor-pulling event. Noise and black smoke! How do the animals stand it? We were worn out by the time we got home to our quiet farmhouse but glad we went, after missing the fair for several years. 

Sunday evening was a quieter outing, though it also included livestock. In my opinion, any evening is better with livestock.