Crazy!

We say it so often it almost becomes trite.  "Don't like the weather in Michigan?  Stick around for an hour and it will change."  Or, something like that.

Last week, Tue I believe, we broke a temperature record for the date in Flint--96 degrees.  The next day was only 93.  It's mid-September!  Then, yesterday AM about 6 AM as I headed out for a run with my blind buddy, I had to clear ice off of my car's windshield.  Ice!

From 96 degrees to ice in three and a half days.

I like Michigan.  It's a good place to live.  I was born and raised here--early on in Detroit and environs, about 45 minutes or so away since Karen and I were married.  I still identify myself to people in other cities as "from Detroit."

But last weekend, in a whirlwind tour, I was reminded of my affinity for New England.  In fact, I think I often feel like that's where I belong.  I identify with the geography, the pace of life, the history, etc.  It seems to be me.

I visited the Amherst campus, spending a good amount of time atop Memorial Hill overlooking the Holyoke Range--something I always do when I return.  I went by Emily Dickinson's house, too.  Of course, I visited the baseball and rugby fields and checked out the renovations at the football field.  Ah, the memories.  I took in a couple of my old classrooms and dorms, but was shattered to find the ping pong room at my fraternity house was gone, a victim of renovations there.  Don't people know how much character was developed in that ping pong room?  I also mosey through town, quite a different place from 40 years ago to be certain. On my trip up from the airport in Hartford I took the back roads, something I almost always do, too.  I was again struck by the history of the area--how many streets bear names like "Shay," "Adams," etc.?  I ran in Windsor Locks, by the airport on Saturday AM.  There I jogged past a church and the town hall, both with cornerstones that read dates in the 1760s.  Mystic Seaport in CT, where a party I was attending was held, is more than 300 years old.

I was reminded of the New England hills, both in Mass and Conn.  Oh, they don't at all rival the mountains out west, but compared to Michigan, they are real hills.  The Prius I rented had a great deal of trouble keeping up speed on the upgrades and hills of the highways.  Brooks, both seen from the car and while running, had lots of little waterfalls due to the hills.  They are always enjoyable to watch, if only for a few minutes.

Of course, mostly I enjoyed seeing old classmates, teammates, friends.  We reminisced some, caught up some, and talked over today some.  They are great guys and I feel fortunate to count them as friends for life.

Still, as much as I like Michigan, a little part of me (maybe a big part of me) regards New England as my place.