Michigan, my love

I am more of an occasional, once-in-awhile, or once-in-a-great-while writer, than a dependable writer. Well, irony counts for something right...

Here it is more than a year since my last post. My life has changed in more ways than I could possibly imagine since then. Heart-wrenching loss, a huge move, a new job, new friends, practically a new life, but my past experiences continue to mold and shape who I am. Now that I've lived in Philadelphia for over six months, I still find myself itching to talk about Michigan, eager to correct misconceptions and to tell about my overwhelming love for my home state. Upon meeting a new person, he or she knows within preliminary conversations that I am from Michigan. I've probably even shown them exactly where I'm from, where I went to school, and where I worked for a summer on my hand in that first conversation. In all those conversations with countless people, I've informed many Michigan fallacies. Let me just set the record straight. The Great Lakes are not salty. Michigan does have sandy beaches. The U.P. is not Canada or just the northern half of the Lower Peninsula, and even though Detroit is in bad shape, that does not account for the entire state of Michigan.

I have also discovered that when I'm not telling someone directly that I'm from Michigan, my accent is apparently doing it for me. I had no idea I had such a thick Michigan accent. I've been told it is most evident when I pronounce words like "tool,""tulip," and "radiator" or when I say "register," instead of "vent," words I had no idea I pronounce differently than in other parts of the country, until I moved to Philly.

Clearly, I still miss The Great Lakes State, and I can't even tell you how excited I am to go back to visit for a long wedding weekend in October. I'll be listening to Pure Michigan commercials until then, letting the soothing voice wash over me as it describes idyllic Michigan experiences. I'll see you soon, old friend.