The Grad School Diaries: North of DeWitt

It might seem strange that after nearly two years in East Lansing we’ve never ventured any farther north of town than the outlying community of DeWitt (which has a diner we like) – unless you’ve also been a graduate student, that is. But life has been taking me in other directions since I’ve been here; specifically, it has taken me to Atlanta twice, Chicago twice, Detroit (or its metro airport, at least) three times, and New York and Los Angeles once each, plus side trips to Ann Arbor, Utica and Kalamazoo. There just hasn’t been any reason to head north, or any time to do so, until now…

My wife and I are off on a 3-day journey to Traverse City, in the north-west corner of Michigan’s Lower Peninsula. It’s located at the base of the Grand Traverse Bay, a massive inlet of Lake Michigan that played an important role in the early maritime development of the state, and is reputed to be spectacularly beautiful. Ever a quick glance at the map will demonstrate that this isn’t quite as easy as it sounds, however. I grew up in a city with roughly the same population as this entire state, and most of the time you could get anywhere you’d want to go on an Interstate highway – or a bypass route branching off from one, at least. In Michigan there are only a few Interstates, and the majority of them are in the bottom of the state, connecting Detroit, Flint, Lansing and Grand Rapids with points west, south, and occasionally east. Except for the main northern route, Interstate 75 (which takes you over the Mackinaw Bridge and into the Upper Peninsula), going north means branching out into a maze of state highways, secondary highways, county highways, county routes, and two-lane roads less impressive than the street we live off of back in East Lansing…

Both of us enjoy this sort of travel, although we’d be pressed to tell you why. Perhaps I’m getting even for my childhood years of sitting in the back seat and going where other people wanted me to go. Perhaps my long-suffering spouse is getting back some of those years where she went only those places where she was expected to go – or even earlier times, when her family never went anywhere. Or perhaps we just like doing things together – which is a good condition for a middle-aged couple to have, if you think about it. For more years than I can count, I have been a mind forever voyaging, with the goal to see everything that can be seen, and understand all of it, good or bad. I’m a seeker, not a wanderer; I want a home to come back to between adventures, and fixed points by which to navigate, and a place in this world where I belong. I didn’t specifically go looking for someone who wanted to do these things with me, anymore than my wife did; some things just can’t be planned for. But if home is where the heart is, then we are surely each other’s home – and perhaps that accounts for why we can be anywhere at all, and never worry about where it is that we are going…

It’s a long drive from East Lansing to Traverse City, over rolling hills and rich farmland, through dark groves of old-growth forest, over rivers and past the occasional lake as we make our way north by northwest into one of the more remote parts of the state. I still don’t know where this mutual delusion is taking me, or where the next strange twist of fate will end up. But the explanation of why I don’t care so much where we land is becoming a lot clearer as we voyage into the lush, green interior of our adopted state…