Michigan

25 September 2015

When the territory of Michigan wanted to become a state, it craved Toledo. Ohio also craved Toledo. Since both of them wanted Toledo, neither of them could have it. As the little kids they were, they whined for days and weeks about Toledo, often getting in heated arguments. Eventually, the federal government intervened. The parents separated the quarreling children. Michigan threw a tantrum and fired a shot in Ohio’s direction. The federal government tisked tisked young Michigan and gave Toldeo to Ohio. Ohio stuck out it’s tongue at Michigan and called it a “filthy Wolverine.” The parents said if Michigan wanted to be part of the family, they’d have to take the Upper Peninsula–a dreaded chunk of forest north of the territory. Michigan sighed and did as it was told.

 

So that’s why my home state’s highpoint is on a separate landmass. I’m from the lower mitten and the highpoint’s on the upper. But since it’s all part of the same family, a bridge was drawn between them and trolls (lower peninsula residents) like me learned to love their extended family. It was only fitting that I visited Arvon with a truckload of cousins. It was the fourth of July weekend and we drove my uncle’s suburban several miles along narrow roads to the peak. Like any northern forest in the summer, the brush was thick and the insects thicker. We piled out of the car at the highpoint and approached the top. Together, we stood atop our state.

 

Mount Arvon. 1979 ft / 603 m. 3 July 2015.

 

Michigan