Anyway, we spent two days in Michigan's UP - the first in Stambaugh, MI - where my Dad grew up. We checked out the town (which is no longer a town except in the minds of some diehard townies), saw the football field, the hill you had to ride your bike up to prove you were a man (insert grunt for effect) and we saw the house where Dad lived from his tot years through his sophomore year of high school.
What was neat was that the house looked to be in pretty good shape - the last time my Dad had seen it was not so good. So it's neat that in this economy, in the state of Michigan (rougher shape than most), and in this (no-longer-even a) town, the house was being restored and respected.
After checking out Stambaugh, we continued north (or east? or west? - I was lost) to Camp Batawagama - where my Grandpa was a band director for summer sessions and my Dad camped, swam and just created a general ruckus. The kids played on the playground - another playground with this round thing. What's it called, anyway? And of course, Grandma is game for everything - so she got right up there with the kids.
A little further away from the lake was an old Native American cemetary. The Native Americans built huts to hold the bodies of their dead, with an opening facing west to see the setting sun. It was neat that they are still there, intact and respected. There is a great deal of Native American culture and history in Northern Wisconsin - next time we have to see more of it. The one criticism I have of the Laura Ingalls books is that she is not neutral (to put it mildly) to the Native American people - and her experiences weren't neutral, so that's understandable. But now it's time for Amiya to see another perspective, another truth. That's our task for next summer.
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