Glen Hirshberg's Blog - Posts Tagged "lansing"
Epistles from the Road--Lansing, MI
Last stop on the East-Midwest swing of the Motherless Child tour. Almost last stop, period, for this book, and then I will have mostly done what I can do; just Comic-Con and San Francisco to go, and I get to go home before those. So many great people I've met these past weeks. So many memorable moments. Not least this very quiet one, in an Ann Arbor hotel, my
Good Girls
work done for the day, my exhausted son--who has been his usual, magical self, the perfect companion--sleeping across the room. If you're anywhere near Lansing, tonight, come help me see the Prius-Shaped GTO Experience out in style at Schuler's Books.
Epistles from the Road--Michigan
Across Ontario in a spitting, frigid Canadian rain borrowed from the fall (courtesy, apparently, of the Japanese typhoon), into Michigan for maybe the third time since it stopped being my home, 35 years ago, now. Winding with my son down the 696, waiting for the names on the signs to start ringing things inside me,
and a few of them maybe did--Evergreen, Southfield, Cider Mill--but mostly the words just knocked other words around, like one of those hanging ball-toys where the balls at either end fly up when you knock them, but the ones in the center don't move anymore. Stay dead. View of the Detroit Zoo watertower--that chimed. Don't know why. Piano-lessons-very-old-friend-deli near there, when I was very, very young. The birches--forgot their trunks were so spindly--like crossed legs at the edge of the forest.
But my home is where my home is NOW, turns out. Where my kids are. And I have more nostalgia every day at my writing desk, just because that's where those feelings typically get summoned and put to use.
However. Having arrived, tired, in Ann Arbor, we did discover an Olga's down the block. And so I gave Sid one of those. Had one myself, for the first time in 12 years, second in 35. THAT rang me, alright. I'm ringing, still...
Tigers at Comerica and the oldest friends I will ever have (as in, the friends who lived next door to me almost from the day I was born) tomorrow. Then a Motherless Child tour grand finale rush at Literati in Ann Arbor, Schuler's in East Lansing. Then home, to my home.
and a few of them maybe did--Evergreen, Southfield, Cider Mill--but mostly the words just knocked other words around, like one of those hanging ball-toys where the balls at either end fly up when you knock them, but the ones in the center don't move anymore. Stay dead. View of the Detroit Zoo watertower--that chimed. Don't know why. Piano-lessons-very-old-friend-deli near there, when I was very, very young. The birches--forgot their trunks were so spindly--like crossed legs at the edge of the forest.
But my home is where my home is NOW, turns out. Where my kids are. And I have more nostalgia every day at my writing desk, just because that's where those feelings typically get summoned and put to use.
However. Having arrived, tired, in Ann Arbor, we did discover an Olga's down the block. And so I gave Sid one of those. Had one myself, for the first time in 12 years, second in 35. THAT rang me, alright. I'm ringing, still...
Tigers at Comerica and the oldest friends I will ever have (as in, the friends who lived next door to me almost from the day I was born) tomorrow. Then a Motherless Child tour grand finale rush at Literati in Ann Arbor, Schuler's in East Lansing. Then home, to my home.
