Despite the widespread falling-off of the genre over the years, I was delighted to see that the blues were alive and well in Ann Arbor, kept alive by the love of its audience.
As Welcome Week wears on, I can sense my mind drifting away from the dreamy allure of May, June, July and August. Soon enough, it’s caught in the swing of university life.
When you’re an expensive plane ticket away from home, you learn to make a new home where you are. It took time and patience, but you come to realize that Ann Arbor’s magic is in its people.
There are 480 million acres of Midwest, filled with 68 million unique human beings. Hundreds of rivers and lakes amble through plains and forests. No one Midwestern state is quite like the other.
From the slow way Joe talks, with his carefully placed pauses and soft voice, to his unrelenting kindness, Joe the character could not be more midwestern.
I cannot say for certain why cornfields terrify Midwesterners so much. Perhaps we’re scared of what sustains us.
Doubt overshadows “Peanuts.” But this may very well be why we love it so.
Art Fair season in Ann Arbor just ended, and, this year, I had a mission: to find a specific ring from a specific artist who had a booth at the fair two years ago.
We decided that “Michigander” wasn’t something that hurt, but rather something that reckoned with both gaffe and pride, and we adopted it as our own. In much the same vein, Pure Michigan helps us rewrite the narrative.