Back in Michigan: Day Four

Somebody's gotta be feeding the seagulls in Frankfort, because they're not shy in the least about approaching people... Last night my mom and I took off for a 24 hour jaunt to Saginaw, after fueling up at Frankfort's seafood-centric Coho Cafe:

An hour into our trip we stopped for ice cream, as per tradition, at the Frosty Cup in Cadillac:

Mom had to be in Saginaw to work an election. While she was putting in a grueling 15 hour day collecting ballot stubs at Plainfield Elementary School, I headed over to Midland, 20 miles away. Here's a shot of the murals on the side of the Midland County Courthouse:

These murals were applied by Detroit artist Paul Honore in the early part of the last century, using a then state of the art pigmented magnesite stucco. Unfortunately, the material didn't stand up very well to the intense freeze/thaw cycles of Michigan's wildly variable climate, and over the decades crumbled off. I spent a summer in college interning for the architectual conservation firm that restored the murals using historic photographs. We used a porous stucco developed in Holland that will, theoretically, stay up there. After I took this photo, I walked around the corner to Espresso Milano, which was opened by the same guys responsible for Saginaw's Red Eye Coffeehouse (now the Red Eye Caffé). Turns out they're still using the menu boards I made for them way back in the early years of the Clinton administration:


Back in Saginaw, I of course had to make a stop at the Red Eye:

The Red Eye was the first of the three shops where I've plied the barista trade. I was, in fact, their first official over the table employee. I also designed the logo on their awning (it used to be on t-shirts and mugs as well). This was back in my art student days, right around the time I was working on those murals. At the Red Eye, I caught up with Arlene, one of the current owners, and long-time barista (and a regular customer back in the days when I worked there), Scotty. I also met up with an old friend, Trisha Baker, who posed for this flattering portrait next door at Steamers Pub:

I'd also made it over to the Scottish Inn for a quick pint on the night we got into town. Unfortunately, Cheyenne wasn't tending bar that night. I didn't get a shot of the place, but I did manage to poach this photo from their MySpace page:

The Scottish Inn has plaid carpet on the walls, old school black naugahide booths, and all manner of memorabilia scottish. And they still have Frank Sinatra on the jukebox. For those of you who've never been, I give it a strong recommendation if you should ever find yourself in the 'Naw.

Back in Michigan: Day Three

That's Mom up there. Yesterday she got an award from the Congregational Summer Assembly for a lifetime of dedication and service (the CSA is an association of people who have summer homes on Crystal Lake; think Dirty Dancing, but with waspy congregationalists instead of borscht belt jews), which was the main impetus for my trip. Afterwards, I headed back into town and got this shot of Frankfort's resident mega-yacht, the Mitch Mate III:

Yes, as a matter of fact, that is an amphibious car parked on the upper deck. The Mitch Mate has been docked in Frankfort Harbor, in one incarnation or another, by the Mitchell family for as long as I or anyone else can remember. And nobody's ever seen it move.

Moving on back to Crystal Lake, here's a shot of the CSA beach and tennis courts from Crystal Knoll:

And to the left of that parking lot is the Crystal View Cafe:

From there I headed a bit west to the Point Betsie Lighthouse, which turned 150 years old today.

One good thing about Michigan is Bell's Oberon ale (which everyone still calls by its original name, "Solsun"). This stuff is a little hard to find back in Oregon...

Back in Michigan: Day One

Yep, that's right. Back in Michigan, for a week. I hopped the red-eye on Friday evening and ended up in Traverse City this morning. My mom picked me up at the airport, and we decided to swing through downtown TC for some coffee, which we found at a place called Morsels, which presumably takes its name from the house specialty, little two-bite cookies with clever names:

They carry the insanely hyped Intelligentsia coffee from Chicago, which I was glad to finally get to taste. No Stumptown, but damn good stuff nonetheless.

From TC we headed to Crystal Lake, near Frankfort. I grew up spending summers at my grandparents' cottage (which, sadly, is no longer in the family) on Crystal, and it's been about ten years since I've been around. I spent a couple hours strolling through Frankfort, seeing some old landmarks, along with a few new ones. Here we have the historic Garden Theater:

This is the Cool Spot, my old childhood ice cream connection:

Frankfort is full of these crazy four-wheeled bike things nowadays, just like Seaside:

Some charter fishing boats in the harbor:

This is the Lake Michigan beach at the end of town (you should know, my friends, that that there is some of the finest sand on the planet), along with the breakwater pier leading out to the Frankfort light house (note the difference in the water on either side):


And here we see the Lake Michigan bluffs, which further north become Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore:

Of course, you can never go home again, as they say, and Frankfort offered up a couple of minor disappointments: First, Community Drug no longer carries Doug Murdick's fudge. This sent me into a blind rage and they nearly had to call the sheriff to drag me out of there. As if that weren't bad enough, neither the Car Frary Restaurant nor the Frankfort Golf Course exist anymore (nor does Baker's bar, but that's another story; on the upside, the golf course property was purchased by a group of wealthy cottage folk to protect it from being condoed to death).

My dad drove up from Saginaw and we all went out for dinner this evening with my aunt and uncle at the Cherry Hut in Beulah:

The Cherry Hut, which has garnered attention from none other than Jane and Michael Stern, of Road Food fame, specializes in everything cherry related, as you might have guessed from the name: pie, jam, salsa, cherry themed sundries such as keychains and dish towels, a truly awesome cherry-ade, you name it. The Hut's non-cherry offerings are generally pretty unremarkable, but hey, if you go to the Cherry Hut for a hot turkey sandwich, you pretty much deserve the gelatinous gravy smothered wonder bread monstrosity that eventually winds up in front of you. This is why they don't call it the Turkey Hut...

After dinner I headed out around sundown to get some final shots in the fading light. Having failed to get a satisfactory sunset shot, I came across a developing bonfire party on the dunes:

Then I hoofed it over to Crystal Lake, about a mile away, to capture the "blue hour" image up top, as well as this shot of some moored sailboats:

Most of my week in Michigan is still ahead of me, so stay tuned for more of my zany Wolverine State escapades...

All Right, That's It! Game Over!

My friend Ole sent out an e-mail the other day about a recent experience of his in Forest Park, which I found nothing short of hysterical (especially the last paragraph). Hence, I give you... "Whacked By an Owl," by Ole Peterson. Enjoy!

Okay, it was a beautiful, warm summer evening, so, as I often do, I went walking on the Wildwood Trail in Forest Park. I’d had a very busy day and my mind was racing, as usual, so I was hoping to get into a nice, slow, nature-inspired groove. I started at the north end of the trail and walked to the first fire lane – about a mile and a half, then made a u-turn to return to my car. I’d had a few quiet moments, but my mind was still all yap-yap-yap when a gray shape buzzed over my head and perched on a branch about twenty feet away. The gray shape morphed into a beautiful owl. I thought “What a wonderful gift – this owl was sent to help me find some inner silence.” I stared for a while as this bird stared right back at me and squawked a squeaky squawk. Robins, towhees, sparrows – they don’t look at you – not for more than a nanosecond, but this bird was making observations and taking notes. It looked me down and up (in that order) and did that circular head motion that they’re fond of doing. I said aloud “Hello, you are beautiful. Thank you for visiting me,” then resumed my stroll back towards my car.

Ten seconds later, I felt wind rushing above me, looked up and saw this creature fly on ahead to the next convenient branch where it perched and resumed its reconnaissance. “Okay, cool” I thought. “I’ve been chosen for something. I wonder if I’ll ever know what it is”. Sometimes you don’t find out. So, not wanting to get too attached to any particular outcome or psyche myself up over some message that might never arrive, I walked on.

I heard a light “whoosh” like air brushing against air (which it was) and felt a slight nudge on the top of my head as this determined avian whizzed gleefully towards the next tree. “Okay, this is getting weird,” said my real self to my ego, which was still preoccupied with “larger meaning”. At this point, I recalled an incident with a grouse back in 1990 in which I naively assumed that this curious bird had friendly intentions, only to narrowly avoid losing my left eye. “Owl,” I said, “I realize you are probably a mother protecting your young who are very close to us right now, so I’m just gonna walk on past you now and leave your forest never to disturb your serenity again.” Not wanting to lose sight of her, I looked back every few paces, mentally prepared to wave my arms, yell, duck, whatever it might take to protect myself from attack. As I turned my head, I once again heard air against air and before I could say “Omigosh, an owl has just whacked me in the head,” she whacked me in the head! I didn’t even see her as it happened. I looked up and there she was again on the next branch glaring at me with animal rage in her beastly eyes.

“All right, that’s it,” I yelled. “Game over!” I ran past her perch and continued on about a hundred paces, stopped, caught my breath and thought, “Why do I love nature? What is this strange fascination?” Conclusions are always difficult for me to draw, but if I had to try, I’d say that a bird in your hair is worth two on a branch. I’d also say this: Whatever the hell it was that had my mind in such a stir when I set out searching for some peace and quiet was long forgotten now.

Capitol Hill Block Party 2008

So I headed up to Olympia this past weekend to hang out with my favorite Portland expatriate, Jenni, and drag her along to this year's Capitol Hill Block Party, arguably Seattle's best music festival (that's Jenni's wrist in the photo, by the way). Mind you, I had to give up PDX Pop Now!, one of Portland's better music festivals, to attend, so you know there must have been some good acts on the bill...

Friday's lineup was great, and included my own city's Menomena, but I had to limit myself to Saturday. So the plan was this: The Builders and the Butchers (another Portland band; what is it with these music curators in Seattle poaching our talent, anyway?), The Fleet Foxes, Throw Me the Statue, The Hold Steady and DeVotchKa, in that order.

The festival started off on a good note for me as Jenni and I were walking in the entrance, when the girl taking the tickets said to me, "Your chops are fresh!" (my chops, while not quite Lemmy grade, are indeed fresh, if I do say so myself). We were meeting up with my cousin Brad and his people at the Comet, and being as the line outside Neumo's was insurmountably long, we decided to skip the Builders/Butchers and have a pint with Brad and his friends. After about an hour, we all headed out to the main stage, in the intersection of Pike and 10th, right between the Comet and Neumo's, to catch the Fleet Foxes:

This is the band I was most looking forward to seeing (Appearing on Letterman! Touring with Wilco!), and I'm glad to say they did not disappoint. While they describe their sound as "sleepy" on their Myspace page, I think they might be selling themselves a bit short. While that word does go some way towards describing them, it fails to take into account the impeccable guitar work, the very solid rhythm section and harmonies which at times evoke, as most good harmonies will, Crosby Stills and Nash. Not that they're a bunch of sixties folk revivalists or anything... they're indie folk revivalists! (but then, who isn't these days?) There's some rock in there as well, of course. A touch of Pet Sounds era Beach Boys, along with a little Band of Horses... I could go on. Good mix of stuff, check 'em out.

After the Foxes' set the six of us headed over to a gallery/bar (a great idea, by the way. Is anybody in Portland doing this yet?) called Grey. Alice Tippit and Chris McCullen were the featured artists on the walls, and a Sapphire G&T was the featured drink in my hand. We killed time in this stark yet beautifully appointed room (which used to be the OK Hotel, as seen in the movie "Singles"), until it was time to catch Throw Me the Statue's set back at Neumo's. Unfortunately, TMTS was a bit of a bust, and we skipped out early and headed back into the Comet to wait for The Hold Steady. Here's a shot of them taken with a camera, well... not held very steady:

I wanted to like these guys a lot more than I did. I hadn't heard much of them before the show, but they've garnered quite a bit of press in the recent past, and I figured I'd enjoy their set, which I did, just... not very much. They'd have been fun enough as a bar band, or at least marginally impressive in a Husker-Du influenced sort of way. But all they amounted to was a bar band version of Husker-Du, and that just kinda fell a bit flat. Luckily, we didn't have to wait long for DeVotchKa to go on:

You could lump these guys from Denver in with the recent rash of bands that mine Eastern European traditions for both inspiration and instrumentation, mixing said traditions with more modern sesibilities... say, Gogol Bordello, Beirut, A Hawk and a Hacksaw, etc. DeVotchKa play it a bit closer to their American roots, however. I might put them a little closer to The Arcade Fire than the rest of those gypsy rockers. A great set from one of the few bands out there these days with a tuba player.

Of course, we did eat some over the weekend, and as I haven't posted anything about food on this blog for a good long while, it would seem an appropriate time to fill you all in on a good breakfast place in Olympia, should you head up (or down) there anytime soon:

This place used to be called Rose's, but is now Sage's Brunch House. It's on the west side, just down the block from the Olympia Food Co-op, and I'm gathering it was at one point some sort of general store. Nowadays, they serve up some of the best breakfast grub I've had in quite a while. I had the biscuits and gravy with a potato pancake, while Jenni had the smoked salmon scramble, also with a potato pancake:



Well, there you have it. My weekend in Olympia/Seattle. I wish I could say Olympia offered up a little more excitement than it did, but college towns tend to be pretty dead in the summers, of course. Good thing it's smack dab between Portland and Seattle.

Wanna Throw Your Kid in the Drink?

Well, my friends, it's official: I'm old (full disclosure: I turn 37 next month; my apologies to those of you who are actually, well... old). Spencer Elden, the baby on the cover of Nirvana's 1991 album, nay, American pop-culture landmark, Nevermind is about to enter college. For those of you who were born between 1960 and 1980 and happen to be in the mood for a serious blow to your ego, check out the recent NPR story here.

In the meantime, here's Spencer's take on the whole thing: "Quite a few people in the world have seen my penis, so that's kinda cool." Right on, Spence! We'll see ya at next year's World Naked Bike Ride then, right?

One silver lining: teenagers are still calling each other "dude." I believe it was my parents' generation that cemented that word into the lexicon...

Irrespective of cultural and/or generational significance, the photo, taken by Spencer's dad's underwater photographer friend Kirk Weddle, really is a great image, is it not? Discuss...

Matt Harding for President!

Or at the very least, Secretary of State. This is the best thing to come along since Spencer Tunick... While we here in the States continue to slit each others' throats over abortion, gay marriage and the FISA bill, the rest of the world is doing this:


This is amazing. I can't take my eyes off it. Thank you, Matt! You may just be our last ambassador of goodwill!