A NOVEMBER WALK IN THE HEIGHTS

“I think Michigan keeps you sane and on an even keel through the ups and downs. In Michigan, I do fireworks, shovel snow and live life.” - Jeff Daniels

Halloween’s over and the month of November stretches ahead toward Thanksgiving (which began the Christmas season in our house). Frosty nights are common, snow flurries possible, rain expected. The bright fall colors are fading to gold, yellow, and brown, yet this was one of my favorite times of the year.

Holiday anticipation ahead, busy year behind.

Will you join me for another walk? This time we’ll stroll down Caroline Street where I lived as a child and with children of my own, and savor this season between fall and winter.

I’m wearing my favorite zip-up sweatshirt jacket with hood. I have wool gloves shoved in each pocket. Jeans, flannel shirt, tennis shoes—one of my favorite outfits—to keep me warm and comfortable.

As we head down the street toward the oak-beech First Woods, I study each house we pass. Childhood memories wind together with adult experiences so that I see families who lived in the houses all those years ago, along with those who raised children with mine. A few changes and renovations, yet most of the houses seem the same.

Childhood friends have grown and moved away. The once steep hill down Caroline was smoothed out when the retaining ditches were filled, so no more exciting “look, no hands” bicycle rides to the end. Dogs and bikes still populate yards, along with leaf piles. Smoke from chimneys show working furnaces. Any lingering green is dull in color and attention is caught by the crackle of falling leaves.

The last house on the left side of the street was the childhood home of my best friend Kay, as well as future husband. House is now gone, replaced by larger home, but I can see the original, as well as the rooms inside as clearly as though they still existed.

We’ll ignore the apartment complex on the far side of the fence that runs along the dead-end street. The walk we’re on is in the past, so the woods are thick past Detroit Edison’s right-of-way, where I once saw a glorious red fox.

A path leads into the First Woods branching left and right. If we turn left, we follow the woods to Bessie Street. To the right, the junior high and Margaret Street, although I remember the field offering a small pond and wild strawberries.

If we continue straight, we pass through the First Woods to another field with a road that passes a hickory nut tree to the swampy Second Woods. No spring peepers there in November, so we’ll turn right, cross the football field of the junior high, and head down Bessie.

The air is chilly with a hint of possible rain. November clouds are flattened puffs of gray and white, and a cold breeze rattles overhead leaves.

I didn’t know many Bessie neighbors, but my friend Vicki lived fourth from the end on the left, and most of us went to Avondale schools. There’s a sense of community and family in these streets, felt in childhood and through my years of raising a family.

At the top of the street is the corner store where I spent countless pennies and nickels on candy choices behind the glass counter. We turn right on Squirrel Road where the houses are beautifully individual. Across the street oak trees are huge, shading front lawns in the summertime and home to countless squirrels, where I suspect, the road got its name.

Cars go by, make and model determined by the year, but of course, there'll be a scattering of muscle cars. Kids pass riding bikes or walking—to the store, to friends’ houses, to the Heights’ downtown, maybe, where Kay and I spent hours browsing in Shovels or Thomas Variety.

My thoughts rush ahead to fresh, hot coffee (or cocoa) when I get back home. Plans for Thanksgiving surface as I go over the menu again with who will be bringing what.

But in the moment, the air is crisp, busy holiday seasons are ahead, summer and apple cider-fall behind. There’s a quiet contentment in this November day, a month of cold sometimes, snow sometimes, leaves to be raked, plans to be made for holidays, but time for everything.

I’ll pour coffee for you when we get back and offer oatmeal cookies, baked this morning. We can share your Heights memories from various years and seasons, but especially family Thanksgiving dinners, school projects, Christmas hopes, and pleasure in our much-cherished community.

Thank you for the walk and the memories.