Making memories at the Literati Bookstore in Ann Arbor, Michigan

Yesterday morning I went to breakfast with some friends. We talked of my travels, especially to Morocco.  Afterwards it was my plan to pick up my little niece and have a fun day together. The sunshine charged my positive mood meter to the full and I thought that it was a good day to go somewhere. I had been wanting to visit a particular city since I heard about it in the spring. 

I listen to NPR (National Public Radio) as often as I can. On April 16th this year I tuned in to listen to All Things Considered with Ari Shiparo. The story of the day was about a bookstore in Ann Arbor, Michigan called Literati.  

Hillary and Michael Gustafson (husband and wife) opened the bookstore in April 2013 basing their name on a Literati typewriter. Ann Arbor is a college town, the University of Michigan met us as we rolled in to town. The bookstore is located in the heart of downtown. The top floor is a coffee shop with room to sit down and chat or read with children's books located in the middle or the room. The street level is where all of the fiction is located and in the lower level is books on travel, history, gardening and cooking. But most of all the typewriter is there.  It is old and sits on a small table with a chair for the patron to sit comfortably and leave a message.  Thousands of messages have been left over the few years that the store has opened.  

Michael Gustafson and Oliver Uberti put together a book called, Notes from a Public Typewriter, taken from the many notes that patrons wrote on the antiquated typing machine in the basement. They call these notes, "Diary of a town happening in a bookstore."   

I searched for the book locally and ended up ordering it on line. The day I received the book, I read it from cover to cover.  It's funny how some books butt in line demanding to be read right then and there like rude people do cutting in front of you hoping that they will not be noticed. But you do.  

Below are a few of my favorite quotes: 

                             Maybe were were brought here
            to explore other worlds. 
            Reading allows us to do so. 

                    I just want to push your buttons.

                    I spent 22 years telling her
            to do great things. Now that she has 
            gone to do them I am sad. 

            Avoid identity theft. Use a typewriter.
            They are much harder to hack. 

I picked up my niece and we headed to Michigan.  The weather was cool and windy with lots of sunshine when we left.  The trip took two and a half hours.  The further north we traveled the colder it became and rain settled in like an unwanted friend.  My camera was safely tucked into the trunk, hoping that the rain lets up so that I can take some pictures. 

When we arrived it was 38 degrees and the rain was pouring down.  I was not about to let this get me down. After the fiasco with the parking meter (not wanting to read my credit card) we went inside to wander around.  After picking out a book for my niece we headed downstairs. The typewriter was located directly at the bottom of the stairs. By the time we arrived the page was nearly full with notes. 

My niece sat down and contributed to the nearly full page of writing. I, too, tried to leave my message but the keys kept sticking and eventually I gave up.  The thought of just being there was satisfying to me.  It is like seeing a place in pictures but when you experience the place for yourself it takes you to another level. Maybe I am too philosophical and try to make things what they are not supposed to be.  After all it was just a bookstore. Or was it?  

There were quotes taped to the door just past the typewriter.  

Eventually the rain eased enough to be able to allow us to venture outside. One of the walls have a few of the quotes painted on and my niece decided to pose in front of a couple of them. 

On the way home, we laughed, sang songs, and most of all a memory was created on not such a beautiful blue sky kind of day in a not so ordinary bookstore. When my niece asked to live with me. I knew that I had accomplished what I set out to do. 

A view from the boat on the Detroit River

Last weekend a friend and I took a mini vacation. We traveled to Detroit and then made our way around the city.  It was our goal to go on a river tour, which I love doing. We climbed onto Diamond Jack's boat and sailed along the river. The sky was ever changing that day.  

Ambassador Bridge

One minute it would be bright and you could see the blue sky and ten minutes later it was clouded over.  I stood at the hull of the ship and tried to take in as much as I could of the scenery. I felt like I was in a different world.  And I was. 

Orthodox church on the river front, Windsor, Ontario

This is a few shots that I took and worked on yesterday.  The church intrigued me with its missing top on one of the steeples that was rust stained down the sides. I wanted the picture to look like a painting or an old postcard. The narrator told us the name of the church but without pen or paper it is lost to me. 

Detroit Princess

I wished that my passport was updated so that we could have gone across the Ambassador Bridge and explored this church. Maybe have fish and chips or tea and scones or both. 

The luckiest people live next to water or mountains, preferably both.  But I live in corn fields, where the land is flat.  

Chasing Lighthouses

What better way to start the new year than by going on an adventure. Michigan's coasts are filled with lighthouses. So, a friend and I headed out on Friday afternoon for a mini holiday. January is not the greatest time of year to visit the beach but we didn't care about that. We piled on warm clothes and took a trip into the north country where snow is abundant and the Northerners aren't afraid of the weather. 

The first lighthouse that we visited was the Petite Point au Sable Lighthouse at Silver Lake State Park, near Mears, Michigan.  The blue skies accentuated the beauty of this brick lighthouse. 

Following the loss of the schooner called Pride in 1871, the government approved funding for the lighthouse in 1872 and construction began shortly thereafter. The first keeper of the lighthouse was James Davenport of Mackinac Island who lived in the keepers house built next to the lighthouse from 1873-1879. In 1899, the lighthouse was painted white so that it could be seen easily, but in the 1970's it was restored to its original brick.  Later the house was torn down but the lighthouse remained. 

My friend climbed the dune and was able to get a lovely view of the area.  The dunes were covered with snow and they were slick, so I stayed on the beach. 

When she climbed to the top, my friend discovered that the only way down was on her bum, so she slid gracefully to the bottom. 

  

We then traveled south to Grand Haven and happened to see a large boat in the harbor.  I tried very hard to catch up with it but was only able to see if from a distance. It still amazes me that something that large can float. The lighthouse was built in 1839. At night, it is lit up with lights marking the entrance of the Grand River. (It was here that I fell more than I walked along the pier the night before)

  As the day progressed, we decided to stay until sunset. 

I had never seen the sun go down near a large body of water and was anxious to witness the event. The wind was blowing at a surmountable speed and the temperature was felt far below what it actually was. Thirty minutes felt like forever in the wind and our lower extremities felt the cold more than our upper parts. 

The photographers lined up to see the show. Even Mickey Mouse wanted to have a look. (We counted 17 photographers) 

Then slowly the sun faded into the horizon, only to repeat again the next day. 

At the end of our adventure, I realized how special it was that two sets of footprints in the sand are much better than one, no matter where you are or what you are doing. "Experience is much better than the material things one can buy on adventures." She told me. Except when one needs hiking boots in order to be able to walk. The experience was priceless. 

Life outside of the cornfields

A friend and I decided to go on a mini holiday to Michigan and I am so glad that we did. Last Saturday was rainy, but we went on our outing anyway.  My friend said, "I am English, if you wait until the weather is fine then you would never go anywhere."  What a great attitude.  I never let weather bother me too much when I want to do something anyway. We started our journey in Holland, Michigan and made our way to "Big Red" the not so big light house. 

Then on to Douglas and saw a mini light house on the water. With two tug boats parked beside it. 

I imagined fishermen riding the waves, throwing out their nets, and eventually pulling in their catch of the day. 

The air was crisp with intense blue skies and wind that made your hair swirl, but I was not deterred by the gale. I was in another world far from the cornfields that I lived. 

Last fall, South Haven was cold and overcast by the time we reached this light house. This time the view was stunning and lots of locals came to view the glorious Lake Michigan that seemed to go on forever because we are having unseasonably warm weather at the moment. 

We saw a beach that looked so inviting and we bemoaned the fact that we didn't have time to burrow ourselves in somewhere for hours to enjoy the view. The waves crashed onto the shore like it was the ocean. Where I live there is nothing like this, which stirred up feelings of discontent.  If I lived closer, I would be here all of the time watching this view regularly. 

We climbed into the car and drove to Saugatuck one last time. Lovers sat on a bench and watched passersby while they sat close together. 

Our last stop was a water mill that had seen better days.  We saw it when we first came, hoping that we would remember the location on the way home. This time we were lucky. This rustic broken down place was still beautiful and I tried to imagine it when it was in working order.  

Then we got in the car and headed home. No more stops, no more light houses, or lakes that look like an ocean, only memories of what transpired that wonderful weekend. And remembering that ...

back home.

The Cliff Hanger

Here is a view of  Lake Michigan from St. Joseph, Michigan. I like the look of bare trees in winter surrounded by golden brush with splashes of red and green.  

Pure Michigan

I live in the flat lands, surrounded by cornfields. Just a couple of  hours drive from where I live is heaven.

Where there are pristine beaches and lighthouses to guide a weary boatman. Trees are so numerous that the color is dazzling to the eyes in autumn. This sounds like a commercial, but that is what I experienced yesterday while on a "Vacation Day" in Michigan.  Oh yes, I am silly, but I had a glorious time. Visions of children playing on the beach in summer raced across my mind. The calming sound of the waves rolling in to shore soothed me.  A friend and I went to three cities and saw three different lighthouses. This was the first time I have seen one.  It was amazing to me.

As the day progressed the clouds crowded the sky until the blue was no longer visible. A haze settled over the the water. What seemed vibrant began to take on a sepia tone. 

But the beauty remained.  In the summer, I plan to return, not laden with heavy coats and bags, but free like a bird who sits for awhile until another spot looks enticing and then moves on.