Postcard from Up North

Those who cannot forgive others break the bridge over which they themselves must pass. -Confucius (Holy Childhood Church, town center. Her bells ring at 6 a.m. and 6 p.m. every day, a call that always asks us: how are you going to, and how did you, live today? With bridges intact?)

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Postcards from Drummond Island

The small-world meeting I had with my father’s remarkable law school classmate was also a big-world meeting–the big, beautiful world that is Drummond Island, situated along Potagannissing Bay in the Upper Peninsula. The island is cradled by Lake Huron in Michigan to the south and by Canadian waters to the north. Michigan, you’re such a…

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Postcard from Up North

Then summer fades and passes and October comes. We’ll smell smoke then, and feel an unexpected sharpness, a thrill of nervousness, swift elation, a sense of sadness and departure. ~ Thomas Wolfe (Farm at Wolverine, in beautiful melancholy color.)

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Postcard from Up North

Three things in human life are important: the first is to be kind, the second is to be kind, and the third is to be kind. ~ Henry James (Blue thistle. Kind despite itself.)

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Postcard from Up North

If you don’t know where you’re from, you’ll have a hard time saying where you’re going. ~Wendell Berry (Red barn with blue tractor. They’re helping me know where I’m from, and where I’m going.)

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Postcard from Up North

Don’t you agree that, on one’s first visit to Florence, one must have a room with a view? ~ E.M. Forster, A Room With a View (Storybook clouds over Little Traverse Bay, cast in the violet hour.)

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Postcard from Up North

Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadow. It’s what sunflowers do. ~ Helen Keller (Sunflowers, Fletcher Road. Their petals seem to reach for the sun with all their might, making me want to, too.)

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Postcard from Up North

I spent uncounted hours sitting at the bow looking at the water and the sky, studying each wave, different from the last, seeing how it caught the light, the air, the wind; watching patterns, the sweep of it all, and letting it take me. The sea. ~ Gary Paulsen (The mesmerizing wake off my father’s…

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Postcard from Chicago

I raised to my lips a spoonful of the cake . . . a shudder ran through my whole body and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary changes that were taking place. ~ Marcel Proust (Bittersweet bakery, my Chicago favorite. The cake, and Proust’s Remembrance of Things Past, seem fitting this week as we close…

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