A TRIP THROUGH TIME AND SPACE
By PONO
The former software engineer
Formerly known far and wide as
Norman A. Sandin
INTRODUCTION
This is part 2 of Michigan in a Month. While not a necessity, it may
help to read Part 1 before Part 2.
When traveling Michigan, it should be right up front in one’s mind why
things are the way they are. Why are the Great Lakes great? Why the
Sleeping Bear dunes? Why the Porcupine Mountains, the rivers and streams,
the 10000 lakes, the gravel, sand, boulders, smoothly striated granite outcrops,
moraines, and other geological formations? The glaciers of the last Ice
Age! The glacier left its mark on every part of Michigan and its
surroundings. Only keeping the glaciers in mind can one hope to understand
and appreciate the State of Michigan.
CRYSTAL FALLS
|
FROM
|
TO
|
TOWN
|
ADDRESS
|
ABODE
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
4/1/41
|
5/1/41
|
Crystal Falls
|
|
Trailer
|
Crystal Falls business district is on a steep hill. The school is at
the top of the hill, so naturally we parked our trailer behind a service station
at the bottom. I remember a girl about my age – the station owner’s
daughter? She had a playroom over the station. We also played in the
fields behind the station. There was something scary out there – an old
silo or factory building or something. I found the area, and maybe even
the station, but it just doesn’t feel right.
The first few days in the UP were just beautiful. Sunshine, clear
skies, 75º, NO BUGS! And I kept feeling strange. Where am I?
This can’t be the UP! Then the sky turned gray, the temperature went down
a bit, wind cranked up a notch, and showers fell – yup – THIS is the UP that I
remember.
I basically dislike going into restaurants, stores, barbershops, etc. that
I haven’t been in before. Because of this distaste, I screen them
carefully before taking a chance. Some restaurants look acceptable to me,
and some do not. I tried to analyze my thinking to see what attributes
make a restaurant acceptable. It has to be open. It must have some
cars, but not too many. It must look clean and neat, but not swanky.
It must have a family atmosphere. What the heck does that mean?
Well, the signs, location, and demeanor must have less emphasis on orgy and more
on eating. What does THAT mean? Neon cocktail glasses, “live
entertainment”, “longest bar in Shiawassee County”, C & W blaring from speakers
into the parking lot, sports orientation, or “GIRLS, GIRLS, GIRLS” are clues to
the former. “Home cookin’” (must have missing g), “All you can eat
buffet”, swings and slides outside (no brass poles), “breakfast served all day”,
and fewer pickups in the parking lot are clues to the latter. This scheme
has worked pretty well for me.
WEST BRANCH
|
5/1/41
|
4/1/42
|
West Branch
|
320 E. Houghton
|
Trailer
|
I tried very hard to find a memory in West Branch. I tried while
driving to it and I tried while driving through it. I looked at the dates
and the order of living there, but nothing clicks. Guess I slept through
West Branch. Nice town though!
On Mother’s Day, Sunday, May 9, northern Lower Michigan forests staged a
sex orgy. The air was so full of pollen and the fluffy cotton-like stuff
that carries it that it reminded me of driving through snowfall.
SOUTH HAVEN
|
4/1/42
|
8/1/42
|
South Haven
|
|
Trailer
|
South Haven awakened no recognition, except large houses and large lots,
but I do have memories. We had our trailer parked in town, behind a house.
The owner kept a few chickens and decapitated one for Sunday dinner. I
remember watching in awe as the chicken ran around that back yard for the
longest time, without a head. I spent time with a neighbor whose family
was obviously somewhat more reserved than we were. The lady of the house
chastised me severely for saying “heck”.
BATTLE CREEK AND FENNVILLE
|
8/1/42
|
8/1/42
|
Battle Creek
|
|
Trailer
|
|
8/1/45
|
8/1/45
|
Fennville
|
|
Trailer
|
Battle Creek and Fennville are totally sterile. Not only do I have
no memory of the towns themselves, but neither can I dredge up any events
associated with them while I lived there.
When I lived in Michigan and experienced springtime year after year, I
didn’t realize how fast it all happens. But if nature isn’t fast enough
for you, try traveling from north to south while nature is pulling the “green
blanket” up from south to north. Talk about springtime in fast forward!
One day all the dandelions are in full yellow dress. The next day all the
fields are white and the seed parachutes are being carried away by the wind.
Each day more and more of the Canadian geese breeding pairs are squiring a new
gaggle of hatchlings. One can actually (I was going to say virtually, but
it is actually) see the trees go from buds to tiny leaves to half sized to full
sized as the road progresses to the south. And yes, if you step out of the
car for a minute, you can almost hear the mosquito eggs hatching. (What
are mosquitoes for anyway? Why can’t we vote them onto the endangered
species list?) I saw snow in the UP and used the air conditioner in Lower
Michigan. Spring on fast forward! (Later on, of course, I used the
heater again. After all, this is the Midwest!)
YPSILANTI
|
8/1/42
|
8/1/43
|
Ypsilanti
|
|
Trailer
|
|
2/1/58
|
|
Ypsilanti
|
Prospect St.
|
Apartment
|
Ypsilanti holds two sets of memories. Joyce and I had a small
apartment next to a small hospital. It had a fireplace, though, and I used
to haul wood home from the forests in which we were working. The other set
of memories has to do with living in a trailer during war years while Dad was
building the roads that served the Willow Run Bomber Plant. The most
prominent has to do with school. Mom insisted that I wear long stockings
in the winter. I was the only one in my grade who did. On Washington’s
birthday, we were planning a play and I was picked to play GW because of my long
stockings. When I figured it out, I refused, and the teacher had the gall
to ask me if she could borrow my socks. I was MORTIFIED! I worked
for an ice cream store nearby, picking up trash. They sold wrapped ice
cream products and the wrappings blew all over the neighborhood. The city
(state? feds?) were building trailer parks with common facilities for the huge
influx of workers (mostly from the south) all around us, and I used to visit
them on my bike. I had a wagon and I played trailer – endlessly moving
from one place to another – play reflecting reality. I fed someone’s dogs
dry food with hot water – it smelled SO good I could have eaten it myself.
A kid locked me in the dog pen once and I wanted to destroy him. Mom let
me out and then kept me locked in the trailer for hours so I wouldn't. The
roads and other infrastructure around the plant were built over peach orchards.
In the fall the huge peaches on the remaining trees were there for the taking.
We ate and canned until we couldn’t do any more of either. They were
delicious and FREE! I stayed with Starr Evans and his wife once (Dad’s
coworker and neighbor trailer dwellers). Mom claimed I never would eat
fried eggs, but Mrs. Evans made over medium eggs and of course I gobbled them
up. Mrs. Evans worked in a grocery store there. It was rationing
time and the Detroit area was full of hillbillies come to work in the factories.
A guy came into the store and asked for Karo (corn syrup) and Mrs. Evans said
not unless you have a baby. They guy said “Whyfo do I need chillen to buy
ol fo ma hae?” “Hair oil” in hillbilly comes out pretty much like “Karo”.
The “Green Lantern” bar figured into our lives but I usually slept in the car.
That was Ypsi.
When writing these memoirs and some other times on this trip I have found
myself in a very special place. It is a large place with transparent walls
affording an almost infinite view in all directions. The past, present,
and future are all equally clear. All activities here take place about a
foot off the floor and there are no capitalization, punctuation, grammar,
spelling, or other rules to bother with. There is an inexhaustible supply
of Diet Coke (which I find strange since I always use Diet Pepsi). I
assume everyone here is furnished with whatever they need, whether lifegiving
supplies or embalming needs. I’m not certain of this, however, since when
we played golf the other day you seemed a bit aloof as if I was to blame for not
having Titleist golf balls in your bag. On Tuesday the live music was from
a group led by Boutros Boutros-Ghali. When they slaughtered “It’s a girl,
my Lord, in a flatbed Ford…” it was all I could do to focus on my levitated
quatrains.
DEARBORN (TAYLOR TOWNSHIP)
|
8/1/43
|
7/1/45
|
Dearborn
|
Telegraph and Expressway
|
Trailer
|
It turns out that I didn’t really live in Dearborn, or at least that area
is not Dearborn today, but rather Taylor. Our trailer was parked between
the lanes of the expressway where it crossed Telegraph, behind the MSHD office.
The office was a house condemned for the expressway, and we used a toilet and
shower in the basement of that building. Our stay there was full of
memories, including the death of FDR. I started a fire in the hay bales
insulating one of the other trailers. I built a “fort” using the 6” x 8” x
3’ beams of concrete that the MSHD made and broke into three pieces to test the
quality of the concrete in the roads. I conducted an ongoing repartee with
Dad’s friend Aaron Hagenbuch about raising peas and treating them with ice cubes
so they could be picked frozen and save labor. I rode my bike up and down
and across the expressway. School was also full of memories – I wrote a
paper on the atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki (“Peace or
Pieces?”). Mr. Kleinschrodt (our science teacher) had both legs broken
while walking across a street and we rode our bikes down the expressway to the
Veterans Hospital to visit him. I had a fight after school one day and Dad
watched from the car until it was over before making his presence known (can’t
remember who “won”). David Rowe (best friend), Jean Talbert (first love),
Conrad Wartella (friend), Warren Spurlin (friend), Greta something, Jack Bates,
girlname Stricklin, Leila Talbert (Jean’s sister) (other friends and
schoolmates), first money earned (substituted for David Rowe on his paper
route). I looked for the school and found the area. A resident
showed me where it used to be. The Edgewood School was razed, the land was
strewn with salt so nothing would grow, and it sits idle without monument or
purpose. The area behind our trailer (and of course still between the
lanes of the expressway) had had houses and streets and although the houses were
gone, the streets, sidewalks, and other infrastructure remained. We spent
a lot of time playing here in our own little town. Halloween was really
something – we hit every house on every street from Telegraph to the school and
loaded up with candy! I found a few cigarettes in a pack and tried smoking
for the first time – hated it. Teacher’s comment on report card – “Talks
incessantly”. Acquired small printing press and sold personalized notebook
paper at school. Bud visited – home leave from the Army? Experienced
family night at Warren Spurlin house. They would all get together and
crack nuts or have popcorn or whatever. I think they felt sorry for me
since I lived in a trailer. Somehow I felt threatened by them.
(Cult, brainwash, were they the original Flanders to our Simpsons?) I had
a dog that all the MSHD people called Brownie, but I called Steve. The dog
got banged up – probably on the expressway (although there was a rumor that he
used to suck eggs and a local chicken owner beat him). Dad had to shoot
him to put him out of his misery. Mom and I stayed in the trailer and
covered our ears, but still heard the shot. I never looked for the place
Dad buried him, although it was probably in our play town. I crawled into
a manhole in our play town one day and only after crawling out did I see a snake
in the bricks just about at eye level when I was in the hole. It was
probably a harmless garter snake, but I freaked at the thought of being so close
to it and still don’t like to think of it.
Nature doesn’t do squares or rectangles very well, but the patterns it
does do are incredible. The lichen splotches on the tree trunks, the
branches on the cherry trees perfectly furred from base to tip with blossoms,
the pine trees with horizontal branches that seem to match from tree to tree and
make shelves in the forest. Along the highway and in the swamps the lower
branches of trees are all “trimmed” to the same height. (This has to be
assisted by deer, cattle, and/or snowplows, doesn’t it?) The perfect
triangle formed by the petals of the lilies-of-the-valley, the perfect circle of
a group of low junipers or a “fairy circle” of mushrooms. The ripples on
the sand dunes, waves on the water, ripples on a pond when a fish breaks the
surface, symmetrical sea shells, and the oval shell of a turtle. I’ve
examined all of these patterns on this trip – who needs squares?
MELVINDALE
|
7/1/45
|
8/1/45
|
Melvindale
|
|
Trailer
|
Melvindale rang no bells, but I remember there was a young lady my age who
was always riding her bike around our trailer. Mom says she would change
clothes between each pass but I cleverly never gave her the satisfaction of a
notice. There was a swamp behind the trailer park, and we used to slog
around there. It’s a wonder I lived through that time – I think the swamp
was mostly raw sewage. Mom started substitute teaching in Melvindale,
leading to a resumption of her teaching career later on in Perry.
KALAMAZOO
|
8/1/45
|
9/1/45
|
Kalamazoo
|
|
Trailer
|
Kalamazoo is another town where we parked our trailer for a very short
time, but I have three VIVID memories of it. First, I went to a one-room
school for the first and last time, and I loved it. Of the 4 or 5 kids in
my grade, I was by far the best speller, and walked away with every spelling
bee. Second, our trailer was parked with 50 others in a field next to a
sheep farm. The odor was incredible. We had communal burn barrels
that were covered with millions of flies. Third, someone hit our car in
the rear when cutting in from passing the car behind us. He kept right on
going and hit a large tree head on. I was in the back seat and looked
around just after impact with us to see what seemed like the two headlights on
that car wrap themselves around the tree. I don’t remember anything else
about that car or the driver, but our car was virtually untouched (one of the
two vertical chrome pieces was knocked off the bumper). Dad had modified
the rear bumper with heavy iron plates welded to the frame to facilitate pulling
the trailer. That mod certainly saved the car from any damage and may have
saved us from injury as well. On a drive through, I saw no sheep farm, no
burn barrels covered with flies, and no trees with scars
JACKSON
|
9/1/45
|
6/1/46
|
Jackson
|
Cooper St. and Ganson St.
|
Trailer
|
|
6/19/52
|
9/23/52
|
Jackson
|
Commuted
|
Commuted
|
The summer of 1952, between my freshman and sophomore year at MSU, I
worked in Jackson and lived in Shaftsburg. The drive was over rural roads
and I knew it by heart. The very few stop signs got short shrift if I
could see both ways. The straight stretches burned. I managed the 50
miles in less than 50 minutes. One small incident comes to mind. I
was on the way home and coming up to a farm on the right that had a hedge along
the driveway. I saw something just over the hedge moving toward the road
and popping up and down. As I was right on the driveway I recognized it as
a large, probably Great Dane, dog. He actually hit my car, a 1946
Chevrolet, behind the rear wheel and bent the metal. I stopped and looked
for the dog and tried to find someone at the farm, but to no avail. Never
saw the dog again, but then I never saw him before that either. Anyway, I
set out to relive the ride to Jackson, and found a few spots that felt familiar.
Couldn’t find the place in Jackson where our MSHD office was, but it was a
condemned house, so it was undoubtedly removed for the new road. A little
farther on was the corner of Cooper and Ganson where we parked our trailer when
Dad worked there and I was in 6th grade. The corner now sports a
restaurant instead of the gas station we were behind. The Catholic Church
across the street is only 1/3 the size that I remember, but still there.
West Intermediate School is unidentifiable. I saw buildings in the area by
other names, but I asked a postman and he had never heard of it. What do I
remember of the 6th grade? My first encounter with blacks,
urban life, greater awareness. We took pool as part of physical education
and swam nude. I liked the certificates given for scholastic honors.
I liked to walk in the rain. We all used the ladies’ rest room when the
station was closed and Dad and I used the men’s when the station was open.
I think the owner was Clarence Thorburn. We had a galvanized tub for
bathing, but of course I showered at school. Jerry McDermott lived just
down Cooper from us and we were friends. Billy Wright lived up toward the
school. For some reason the name Ezel Riley, a schoolmate, sticks with me.
I had a small printing press and published a little newspaper and sold it to
neighbors. I took a printing class in school that taught how to set type,
run presses, etc. That class was key to my working at Watkins in Perry
later and at Masters in Santa Monica, CA. I saw a kid actually hit the
printing instructor for my first (and I think last) sight of school violence.
GRAND LEDGE
|
6/1/46
|
9/1/46
|
Grand Ledge
|
Trumbull Farm on M-43
|
Trailer
|
Between Lansing and Grand Ledge was where Bud owned a gas station/quickie
mart. We had our trailer parked behind the station one summer. I
suppose we were actually on the Trumbull farm. Bud and I slept outdoors
that entire summer. One of us had a sleeping bag and the other an Army
cot. If it rained, we moved into the garage. There was an outdoor
toilet for the station and another private one for our use. I had open
spaces to play, and the two-stall garage and a barn for adventure on rainy days.
I had a cemetery that ended up holding birds, a dog, and a mason jar full of
June bugs, at least. I helped out in the station to give Bud a break, and
after we moved to Perry, I would take a bus back to the station on weekends.
I ‘took over’ the grocery part of the business for a while, keeping inventory,
purchasing, stocking the shelves, and benefiting from the profits. In the
winter, some local kids and I were playing near the station and one of us threw
a snowball up in the air and it came down right on the windshield of a passing
car. The driver stopped, came back, and gave us a tongue-lashing.
Nearby was a relative of old man Trumbull who had twin blonde daughters, one of
whom had no eyelashes or eyebrows (no flatbed Ford, either). Also nearby
was a kid whose name was Tommy Perfitt. He played Hawai’ian guitar or
something and was quite a musician. Across the street was a working farm
that I visited. The barn was full of hay or straw bales and we used to
build forts out of them. Someone there tried to teach me to play the
piano. The adults separated and/or divorced, to my shock. They were
ancient, probably 50 years old, what were they doing divorcing? Down the
road a ways was a German couple. So near to the end of WWII, rumors were
rampant about them being Hitler collaborators. A guy came into the station
one day while I was there alone and convinced me he was a good friend of Bud’s
and he needed to borrow $10. I carefully got his name and gave him the
money. Bud didn’t know the name and the only other information I had was
that he drove a black car and smoked cigarettes. I wonder if Bud ever
forgave me for that? I drove the road and looked for the barn, but
couldn’t be sure which one it was – too many changes, too long ago. I
found Fitzgerald Park and walked along the river looking once again at the
ledges for which GRAND Ledge is named. The park moved from one side of
town to the other and is much smaller.
PERRY, MORRICE, OWOSSO, DURAND, CORUNNA, LAINGSBURG, SHAFTSBURG
|
9/1/46
|
9/1/47
|
Perry (PHS)
|
E. Polly St.
|
Trailer
|
|
9/1/47
|
4/1/52
|
Perry (PHS and MSU)
|
373 Green St.
|
House
|
|
1/1/54
|
10/1/55
|
Perry (Aldrich’s)
|
120 W. First St. (up and down)
|
Apartment
|
|
11/1/55
|
10/1/56
|
Perry (Aldrich’s)
|
373 Green St.
|
House
|
|
6/15/60
|
9/22/61
|
Perry (Permanent address while working away with
MSHD)
|
110 ½ N. Main
|
Apartment
|
|
9/22/61
|
6/1/62
|
Perry (MSU)
|
110 ½ N. Main
|
Apartment
|
|
9/1/62
|
11/1/62
|
Perry (Watkins)
|
322 ½ N. Main St.
|
Apartment
|
|
4/1/52
|
1/1/54
|
Shaftsburg
|
7003 W. M-78
|
Trailer
|
For a brief return to the 20th century, I stopped into the
library in Perry and read my e-mail. I also checked the phone book for
recognizable names and chatted with the librarian.
Shaftsburg, Perry, and all the other local towns will make a book by
themselves. Lots of memories, lots of changes, but still recognizable
basics.
In Owosso, I got together with Sandra Jean Dural and Glenn Frank Holevac
(my sister Jean’s two children), and their loved ones. We looked at the
8mm movies from the ‘50s and ‘60s (since transferred to VHS), remembered old
times (Eagles Club in Owosso, Tits and Bill and the rest of the gang, and 2-0-3
South Hick-o-ry), and wondered where the years had gone. We went out for
pizza (or), drank a few beers (or), and I won a money tree (Glenn’s wife Julie
wouldn’t let me take it for some reason). Sandra wondered if I remembered
the girl she fixed me up with back in those days. Of course I remember,
but I still have trouble with the name – was it Elsie from Ovid, or Ovid from
Elsie. I do remember that she was tall, but not that tall, kind of blonde
or maybe brown haired, and had a great looking sister whom I called Poppy.
Elsie (or Ovid) left me one night when I was making snow angels in front of the
Eagles Club in Owosso. Sandra also wondered if I remembered the night
someone tried to smuggle a bottle into the Club through the men’s room window.
I do recall that someone had such a problem, but I certainly don’t
understand why they would even try when drinks were about 35c a hit and very
strong. Strange how memories change over time. They also accuse me
of sleeping in the bathtub (I did), parking on the lawn (I did), sleeping on the
porch swing (I did), walking home one night and having my legs severely damaged
by a fence (I did), but to me these are all examples of my having been
mistreated as a guest, not examples of misconduct!
Driving through Morrice, I passed the bar where I was first served
alcohol. I was underage, of course, but things were pretty loose then, and
there. They apparently recognize that event, however, since the sign above
the front door proclaims “NASBAR” for all to see (NAS, my initials, get it?).
The Durand golf course where I used to spin around the 9 holes as many as
six times on a Saturday is now an 18-hole course. The drive-in theater
next to it still has the screen standing, but it’s a…wind break for a driving
range! The train station that I used a fair amount after my car accident
and before I bought my ’55 Ford (my Lord), is now a Railroad Museum. I
looked for Corunna Hills Golf Course – I think it is now a subdivision.
AFTERWORD
There – HALF of “Michigan in a Month”. Bear with me for two more
issues.
When reviewing this Part, I was strongly tempted to insert links to other
Ponograms. I’ll leave it to you – my vast audience – shall I insert links to
related Ponograms, or leave it you to search the Ponogram Index for related
details?
|