Good morning, Michigan!
So there it was again, the savage joy of yet another empty mitten Saturday. A morning spent drinking familiar grounds. Absorbing similar hits. Just fucking around, waiting to find out—all words and no foreplay make the lonely fox a grouch.
Summer is here in full force. The signs are unmistakable. Everything from the constriction of humidity pressing me out of The City, to the great waves of funk blanketing fields of corn growing taller than me out beyond the limits of the city. Whatever the cause of that unique odor, it certainly helps the eventual harvest. Because great surging waves of corn shimmered as it rippled in a wind I could not feel.
It looked like the fields were breathing as I headed south. The Typewriter Fox out on a hunt. Because after a few frantic weeks dedicated to other art, I was itching for the familiar chase of words. Granted, it was time well spent away from the typewriter—stay tuned for big details about that ridiculousness. But I was hoping the Typer Gods might smile upon me. Because sometimes, the addition of a new machine can help trigger those words.
And I was in desperate need of a nudge.
Though promising good will, that environment is fickle when it comes to finding typers. And it’s been months since that particular spot has been hot. Compulsive urges are sometimes better off indulged, however, so I knew I had to stop there. Despite the annoyance of the drive. Otherwise, it would bug me all fucking night.
But it was a swing and a miss at the usual thrifty place.
So after a quick stop at the cemetery to regroup with a quiet walk amongst newer meadows, I pinballed a little green car over to the antique district to try my luck.
Even if I found a machine, I already knew I wouldn’t be taking it home. Not when antique stores prices are in play. It was now more a “catch and release” type of hunt. Because even if they don’t follow you home, it is still fun finding an interesting machine out in the wild
Traffic was surprisingly heavy for such a small Michigan town. I had shopped there on Saturdays before and never once had a problem finding a parking spot. But apparently, I had stumbled into their summer festival, held every July.
The whole street was barricaded brightly. Delicious things were being roasted and fried all around me. Grill smoke hung low and thick, making me want to locate its source so that I could purchase the whole damn booth—maybe I should have eaten before I left.
Crowds of corn-fed Michiganders hustled and bustled past one another. Some carried sticky treats threatening to melt in the midday sun. Most dicked around on their phones. Others shopped the many vendors offering their wares.
I stayed on the periphery. Observing. Watching people walk and laugh and indulge themselves. Music was playing from somewhere. Generic rock and roll, specifically chosen to not offend, helped keep the crowd moving. It was a borderline geriatric mosh pit of well-mannered Midwestern festivities.
At the end of the barricaded street, almost down to the railroad tracks, several harmless carnival games were in operation. Politely scamming the masses. Hustling away in the time-honored tradition of finding an easy mark.
I watched the two people in front of me. Studied their tosses. Watched the rings land. Or slide off their mark. It was an easy riddle to solve and the same compulsive nature that had me in the hunt for a typewriter now demanded I step up and test my theory.
And so I did.
A $5 bill—the random change left after having stopped at the dispensary the day before—was slapped on a sticky table. Rings were handed over. Then tossed. Five in rapid succession. And all five landed around bottles weighted with water.
The prize choices were admittedly fairly grim. Some lame counterfeit nerf gun. A few battered coloring books. Random electronic doodads all guaranteed to not last the car ride home.
So I chose the pink teddy bear.
It wasn’t very large. Or well constructed. But it was bright and soft and the black shiny eyes really popped.
I was momentarily sad at the thought that there isn’t anyone in my life upon whom I could bestow my major award in exchange for a kiss. That would have rounded out the cliché nicely.
Deciding not to go down that particular mental road, I reminded myself that the day was about the hunt. And that there was still plenty of day left in which to thrift. So it was time to go down a different road instead.
I had almost extricated myself from the globs of festival goers when I saw them.
A mother, who admittedly looked a little exasperated, held the hand of her far more energetic daughter. The mom looked like she was in her late 30s and her exuberant offspring, chattering and tugging constantly at her hand, appeared to be around six.
Blonde hair stuck to a tiny forehead sweaty in that “I’ve been having a lot of fun!” sort of way. A mostly pink sundress highlighted sparkly cowgirl boots clattering across the closed street. Brightly colored bracelets dangled from both wrists. But most of all, her smile, sticky and stained with the reminder of recently consumed festival treat, beamed bright in the Michigan sun.
She was having a good day. And, she reminded me of someone.
As I approached them, I happened to catch the mother’s gaze. I instinctively smiled. And, unlike most people I’ve come across since moving to this weird state, she actually smiled back.
I was still smiling when I held that pink bear out at a six year old level and asked, in as friendly a manner as I could muster, “Would you like a new friend, sweetie?”
Surprised, she looked up at her mom, who nodded approval.
“Yes, please!” came her squealed response.
She grabbed the bear and immediately gave it, well, a bear hug. Bright blue eyes closed as a small face scrunched up in pure joy.
“Thank you, mister!”
Three small words spoken by a small voice. And in those words, there was genuine happiness. And a tender innocence so pure that in that exact moment, I found myself wanting to slay dragons, just to protect her. From everything.
She eventually looked back up at her mother who graciously nodded again. Before I knew it, I had suddenly gained about 40 pounds as I was enveloped in an unexpected hug.
So I hugged her right back.
I heard another murmur of thanks.
And then we parted.
I took a few steps towards my exit before I looked back to watch them disappear into the crowd. Eventually I lost track of those sparkly boots. And for some reason, that made me ridiculously sad.
It was a long way back to The City. My thoughts were starting to drift places for which I was unprepared.
I knew that despite the sunshine on my face, the weather is inevitably going to shift.
Winter is just over the horizon.
But I found my summer in the smile of a tiny passing stranger.
And it only cost me a teddy bear.
