Great Laking

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The Upper Peninsula of this Great Lakes land of Michigan has proven so dual in nature, the homey feeling of bug open forests and blue expansive lakes mixed with cold cans of beer folk living simple and hard lives. I could see me growing up here and ending up a very similar person.

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A mama totes her baby boy around, sometimes in a sack, otherwise by arm, as they smile away what moments baby doesn’t scream or grunt his youthful rebellion.

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Some with beards, others only dribble down their chins, part of a family pauses for an afternoon lie in the sun on the shores of Lake Huron, near Mackinaw Island.

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A father poaches his youngest boy as fresh bait for camera fodder along Lake Michigan’s Sleeping Bear Dunes National Seashore.

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Shabby but lakeside, Lady organizes the night as our Bus peaks in through the window.

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I read a few chapters from the Good Book. The recital is met with disdain.

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One morning, as a child wakes all too early for his up-all-night-with-baby mother, we strap on and proceed stalwartly through Copper Harbor.

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Dressed to kill in full lobster regalia, complete with Vermont handknit beanie including custom WINTER beaded tassel, the boy ceases squirming for a quick shot.

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Lake Fannie Hooe in Copper Harbor sings up the sunrise. We’ll travel by small motorboat on this very lake in the afternoon.

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A random footbridge reminds me that humans build things sometimes for fun and beauty, for simplicity and practicality, and not always just for profit.

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A popcorn stand without a purpose.

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Us.

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Winter and a toy contraption built of bungee cords hanging from a pine tree taunting him with amusement and plastic jingly things.

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Learning to hold a bottle all on his own. Interesting as hell to parents interested in a moment’s relief.

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Feet retire for the night in a $31 motel in Munising, Michigan. Life on the road with a baby is like life on the road with a Deputy. God bless his little soul, and spare us what few less grays he might see fit.