Some places reach into your gut and take hold. Others not. I’m thinking a lot about place, of course, since we’re almost finished packing and—after a trip to Missouri for my father’s 96th birthday—on May 1 we’ll be moving to our condo here in Traverse City. I’ve lived in Columbia and Cape Girardeau, Missouri; Middlebury, Vermont; and Akron, Ohio–each for a short time. Then Fayetteville, Arkansas for over 22 years and Newark, Delware for 27 years.
Until we retired in 2007, I’d never lived in Michigan. Yet it’s always been my home. Isn’t that interesting, how we adopt some places and not others? You’d think I would have adopted Delaware, being their poet laureate and all. Raising my children for half their lives there. It’s a lovely state in so many ways, but I never properly sank into its soil.
I learned to walk close to the shore of our lake just north of here. Northern Michigan has been my spiritual home. You know that if you’ve been following me at all. I could say a lot more—and I do have a lot to write about. And furthermore, unwritten poems are screaming at me like starving children—but we have to fill these moving boxes.
Instead, I want to give you a link to a short (7 min.) film my grandson Zach made last summer at the lake—although he just finished editing it. Zach’s studying music at Franklin & Marshall College in Lancaster, PA. Besides being an amazing musician—jazz is his thing—he composes music and makes films. Here’s the link:http://vimeo.com/92003064
The film says everything about place that I could possibly say.