See All the Hip New Joints!

Posted on September 18, 2019 by admin

If I didn’t know better, and I don’t, I’d think that Lonely Planet is straying away from its backpacker roots into travel articles infused with that wan emotion felt by wan people, fear of missing out.

Take this article about the Scott’s Addition neighborhood of Richmond, Virginia. Not long ago, I wrote about an apartment development in the area, and in the course of my research discovered that the district is hip, up-and-coming, the haunt of millennials who have more adventuresome tastes than all previous generations, etc. That wasn’t something I’d known. On the whole, that’s probably good: economic and real estate development for the area, new businesses, people walking around, maybe even a few older buildings saved.

Still, the tone of the article is offputting. Here’s how it starts: “Passionate entrepreneurs have muscled onto the scene: hot art-themed hotels are wowing guests, bold chefs are shaking up the culinary landscape and brewers offer sours and saisons in brand-new tasting rooms.”

A sentence that could be published in precisely any travel guide about anywhere thought to be hip. There’s nothing distinctive about it. Remember in Masada, when one of the other Romans was committing a particularly heinous act, Peter O’Toole’s character stopped him while yelling, This is not Rome! My urge here is to declare, This is not Lonely Planet!

Lonely Planet cares not for art-themed hotels or bold chefs or brand-new tasting rooms. Lonely Planet might take a look in the hotel lobby, but then it finds a cheap lunch and eats it on a bench as life on the streets goes by, which Lonely Planet watches with delight. Lonely Planet smiles at the thought of bold chefs who create must-have creations. How do we know that they are must have? Everybody says so. Guaranteed to be expensive too, and Lonely Planets cares not for that.

That’s not my only beef with this particular article. It’s called “36 hours in Scott’s Addition, Richmond’s new hotspot.” It should be called, “36 hours in Scott’s Addition, Richmond’s new hotspot, while well and truly drunk.”

The following is an outline of the article’s suggestions: First, go to a distillery and drink. Then drink cider made from apples so rare only one secret tree in Serendip grows them. Then have dinner, with “craft beer and adult milkshakes” at a “postmodern diner.”

See some art, because art is good, then resume drinking — Chinese food with craft beer. Then more beer. And some more after that, at very arty places. Or maybe saisons or farmhouse ales. Then stagger to another brewery. Don’t forget to eat after that, because the food’s special around here, but also finish things off with more beer!

It’s definitely the tone that bothers me. No doubt all of the recommended places are quite good, if that’s what you want. Some of my old friends have epicurean and gourmand tendencies, after all. The tone of the article, on the other hand, is Hit! All! The! Special! Places! or your trip will be crap, your time wasted and your soul unnourished.

Birthday Tart

Posted on September 17, 2019 by admin

A birthday tart, using blueberries and raspberries obtained at a nearby weekly farmers market, though they aren’t really visible under the light cover of powdered sugar. Yuriko made it for herself.

I added the candle. Ann expressed surprise that such question mark candles are sold, but she’s young yet. I suggested that exclamation candles might be on the market as well. Who knows, maybe even interrobang candles.

Une Impitoyable Savate Japonaise

Posted on September 16, 2019 by admin

Ah, marketing blarney. The other day I noticed a big plastic bottle of body wash on a shelf. Let’s leave aside for the moment the fundamental question of how that’s different from soap, other than a higher price per oz., and look at the text on the back of the bottle. Hogwash for body wash.

I won’t give the brand any free advertising, however microscopic. Enough to say that it’s a well-known and longstanding brand of personal care products, owned by a conglomerate. Almost everyone my age with access to American TV in the latter years of the 20th century, and probably a good many people older and younger, could whistle its jingle, so catchy and ubiquitous it was.

Also know that the brand has long been aimed at men, encouraging them to be manly men who do manly things, and in no way ironically. Still seems to, as you will see.

Anyway, the body wash bottle has text in English and French, since I suppose Canadians buy it too. As follows:

Doesn’t leave you feeling dry or rob you of your dignity.

Hm.

Like wearing an armor of man-scent.

Armor’s an interesting choice. More manly than residue, I guess. But the last line was my favorite. It made me laugh. Out loud. Chuckle, that is.

Drop-kicks dirt, then slams odor with a folding chair.

French isn’t my language, but the French text seems to hew pretty close to the English, until that last line:

Lutte contre la salete et les odeurs et le envoice au tapis pour le compte grace a une impitoyable savate japonaise.

I won’t vouch for its accuracy, but I did find one online translation for the last part of that sentence that seems plausible: “Sends [odor] to the mat with a devastating Japanese roundkick.”

Maybe that’s what the French call a roundhouse kick, for reasons best known to them. Maybe not. I’m amused all the same.

St. Lorenz Lutheran Church, Frankenmuth

Posted on September 15, 2019 by admin

For all its faux Bavarian tourist appeal, Frankenmuth, Michigan has an actual Bavarian history, beginning with St. Lorenz Lutheran Church, about a half a mile from crowded Main Street.

We were the only ones there for about half an hour around noon on Labor Day.
The church was founded at the same time as the town. “Pastor Wilhelm Loehe of Neuendettelsau, Bavaria, was inspired to establish a German Lutheran colony by Michigan circuit riders who requested aid in bringing the Gospel of Christ to Saginaw Valley Chippewa Indians,” the site’s historic plaque says, as reproduced here.

“Directed by Loehe in 1845, Pastor August Craemer and fourteen other immigrants began clearing forests in this area south to the Cass River. They built log houses and dedicated a log church on Christmas Day 1846. The second church, a frame structure, was erected in 1852 and enlarged in 1864, serving until the completion of the present church in 1880.”

A Cleveland architect named C.H. Griese designed the current Gothic Revival church. Traces of him are online, such as in the context of another Lutheran church.

We were glad to find out that the building was open. That’s not always the case, often for good reason. The interior’s handsome indeed.

Excellent stained glass as well, signed by Hollman City Glass of Fort Wayne, Indiana.
Pastor Loehe makes an appearance in glass.
I suspect this depiction of him is unique in all the world.

C.F.W. Walther, first president of the Missouri Synod, is also in glass. He’s probably englassed in other Lutheran churches.
The settlers came to the Saginaw Valley, built their homes, farmed the land, attended St. Lorenz, and when the time came, were buried in its churchyard.

St Lorenz Lutheran Church Frankenmuth cemetery Those are almost all 19th-century stones, near the site of the first two church buildings, and across the street from the current church. A larger cemetery with newer stones is on the same side of the street as the current church.
The permanent residents are every bit as German as you’d expect: Bauer, Bicker, Fischer, Herzog, Hochthanner, Hubinger, Kern, Roth, Reinert, Weiss, usw. Loehe and Craemer aren’t among them, Find a Grave tells me. Loehe is in Bavaria and Craemer is in St. Louis.

Bronner’s Christmas Wonderland

Posted on September 12, 2019 by admin

Not far south of the activity on Main Street in Frankenmuth, which is also the two-lane highway Michigan 83, is Bronner’s Christmas Wonderland. We arrived early in the afternoon on Labor Day, just as rain started to pour.

The store actually styles itself Bronner’s CHRISTmas Wonderland, such as on this sign over one of the entrances.
No doubt the owners’ religious feelings are sincere — the Bronner family, since founder Wally Bronner died in 2008 — but my editorial instincts and experience kick in at this point, telling me not to style it that way. Allow every irregular brand-style or oddball marketing spelling and you’ll start seeing them everywhere, all the time. That would be an on-ramp to editorial perdition.

Bronner’s Christmas Wonderland asserts that it’s the world’s largest Christmas store, and I believe it. Over 50,000 items are for sale in a store of over 85,000 square feet — one and a half football fields, or about two acres — including Christmas ornaments, lights, Nativity scenes, Christmas trees, gifts, stockings, Santa paraphernalia, and other decor.

There are a lot of specialized ornaments, featuring animals, celebrities, entertainers, farm equipment, food and beverage, hobbies, hunting and fishing, music, miniatures, romantic themes, patriotism, professions, religious themes, Santas, snowmen, sports, various nationalities and much more. Something to look at everywhere you go in that store.

For nurses.
Cops.
For fans of assorted national parks.
Or turtles.
Wonder if the store stocks a gila monster ornament. If anywhere does, this place would.

If you want to be reminded of the Day of the Dead around Christmas.
Or if the King has to be part of your holiday.
I wasn’t expecting Jimi Hendrix, but there he was.

Naturally, various states and countries are represented as well.
Bronner's Christmas Wonderland That last one is the Japan-themed ornament section. The red balls in the middle feature a phonemic approximation of “Merry Christmas” in katakana.

Main Street, Frankenmuth, Michigan

Posted on September 11, 2019 by admin

One thing I didn’t expect while we strolled along Main Street in Frankenmuth, Michigan, on Labor Day — yet another walkable main street — was a life-sized bronze of a fudge maker. Yet there he is.
According to the plaque, it’s Gary F. McClellan (1940-2015), “entrepreneur, leader, friend, husband and father.” He must have had something to do with Zak & Mac’s Chocolate Haus, which is behind the statue. That’s one of a string of small stores along the street whose customers are the tourists who come to Frankenmuth, a farm town settled by Bavarians in the 19th century that eventually added a tourist component.
A successful component, I’d say. Lots of people had come to town on Labor Day.
I’d read a little about the settlement of the area by Bavarians, interestingly before 1848, as an Indian mission that never really panned out because most of the Indians were already gone by then. Even so, the doughty colonists stayed. Their descendants are probably pretty thick on the ground in this part of the state.

Modern visitors come to wander through the shops, many with that Bavarian look. That’s what we did.

Also they come to eat.
So did we. In fact we had Zehnder’s chicken, though we took a to-go family pack to a picnic table behind the restaurant: fried chicken, beans, macaroni, potato salad, rolls. Aside from a few interrupting bees, we enjoyed it.

Frankenmuth also sports such sights as a maypole fountain, a popular place for posing.
Later I read a little about Bavarian maypoles. The idea is similar to English maypoles, but not quite the same. Maybe that’s the real source of dispute between the UK and the EU — the regulation of maypoles. Just a thought.

In the various sources that I’ve consulted — skimmed — the early history of Frankenmuth gets some attention, such as in this short history of the place. But modern Frankenmuth, that is, its invention as a tourist town after World War II, gets short shrift. To my way of thinking, that’s as interesting as its history as a German colony in Michigan.

There are some hints here, however, in the Frankenmuth media kit, of all places. From the “significant dates,” you learn that Zehnder’s Restaurant, which is a sprawling place with a lot of dining rooms, got its start as the Exchange Hotel in 1856. Another 19th-century hotel, Fischer House, later became the Bavarian Inn, also with a large restaurant.

When did Frankenmuth start playing up its Bavarian-ness? Looks like the 1950s.
From the timeline: 1957: Rupprecht’s Sausage was the first building decorated in the “Bavarian” architecture. 1958/59: Zehnder family… redecorates the Fischer Hotel in Bavarian architectural style. 1960 & Current: More buildings adopt “Bavarian” architecture.

A Bavarian Festival started in 1963 but the town didn’t around to an Oktoberfest until 1990. In 2001, a Bavarian-themed mall opened south of the Cass River along Main Street.

Sounds like a few places — the chicken restaurants — were long-time draws. After all, metro Detroit and the once-prosperous Flint aren’t that far. But in the postwar age of auto tourism, the town’s merchants happened on a winning formula of more than just chicken, one that dovetailed with the town’s origin: faux Bavaria.

That might sound like criticism of Frankenmuth as “inauthentic,” a vague epithet if there ever was one, but I refuse to go down that road.

Of course the place isn’t really Bavarian. No one thinks that. Visitors respond to it as a pleasant place to be. People were out and about on a summer day, having an innocuous good time, and supporting businesses that exist here and nowhere else. You could call it an homage to Bavaria, but in any case it’s an authentic American town with a popular theme.

Main Street, Midland, Michigan

Posted on September 10, 2019 by admin

Midland, Michigan, seems like a prosperous town. That would probably be the impact of Dow Chemicals and related businesses — note that the city seal makes no bones about better living through chemistry — but in any case prosperity makes for a pleasant main street.

Main Street runs more-or-less parallel to the Tittabawasee River more than a block away. We arrived around lunchtime on September 1.

We had lunch outdoors at a Mexican restaurant on Main Street. The food was good and a few of the other patrons were dressed for some occasion or other.
I didn’t ask. We noticed during our Main Street stroll various golf-ball-based artworks.
Those are part of the Downtown Midland Summer Sculpture Series. As usual for such displays, the works will be around in the summer, then auctioned for charity come fall. Chicago’s Cows on Parade in 1999 kicked that sort of thing off in the U.S., with the idea borrowed from Europe.

According to Downtown Midland, the golf ball theme is because the inaugural Dow Great Lakes Bay Invitational was held this summer in Midland by the LPGA.

A few more. This one’s mildly unsettling.
Candy, eh?
This counts as golf-ball based?
Looks to me like a cold-environment creature that floats in the upper atmosphere of Neptune. That’s something I would think of, anyway.

A few blocks to the northwest of the golf balls, but still on Main Street, is the Midland County Courthouse, unlike any other I’ve seen.
Not just a Tudor-style courthouse, a colorful one dating from the 1920s.
Bloodgood Tuttle of Cleveland, who did work in Shaker Heights, is credited with designing the building, and apparently there are murals inside.

I’ve been conditioned by illustrations and movies, of course, but I couldn’t shake the idea that if Faerieland needed a court to dispense Faerie justice, it would look like this.

Lansing Walkabout

Posted on September 9, 2019 by admin

On the last day of August, we arrived in Lansing, Michigan, for a look. I’d only passed through once, Labor Day 2000 as it happened, to find the state capitol closed, as you’d expect. This time I hoped it would be open on Saturday, as it usually is. It wasn’t.

Still, it’s a handsome structure with a lanky cast-iron dome.
“In January 1872, a plan (called ‘Tuebor,’ meaning, ‘I will defend’) submitted by architect Elijah E. Myers of Springfield, Illinois, was selected,” says the capitol’s web site regarding its development, which proceeded throughout that decade. “Myers moved to Michigan to supervise construction and lived for the rest of his life in his adopted state.

“Materials for the building came from all over the country and even from abroad. Although the millions of bricks that make up its walls and ceilings were locally made in Lansing, the stone facade came from Ohio, the cast iron for the dome and floor beams from Pennsylvania, and the marble and limestone floors from Vermont.”

The interior is supposed to be ornate, but that will have to wait. Instead, we were able to look at the scattering of memorials on the grounds, including this unusual one to the First Michigan Sharpshooters Volunteer Regiment.

Another memorial you don’t see that often — but not never — is to the men who fought in the war with Spain, but also in the Philippine Insurrection and the China Relief Expedition.
A block east of the capitol grounds is Washington Square. At least, that’s what the map calls it. It’s a section of Washington Ave. lined with various businesses, and good for a walk on a late summer afternoon.
Formerly a theater. The Strand, opened in 1921 as one of the largest vaudeville stages in Michigan, designed by Chicago architect John Eberson.
He did a lot of theaters, many of which don’t exist any more. The auditorium of the Strand disappeared to make way for office and retail space in the mid-80s.

The Hollister Building, the last remaining of Lansing’s major commercial buildings developed in the early 20th century (and renovated in the early 21st century).
Boji Tower, around the corner toward the capitol on Allegan St. and the tallest building in Lansing.
An impressive pile of art deco bricks that got in just under the wire: construction started in 1929. The Boji family is a recent owner; earlier names are the Olds Tower (as in auto pioneer Ranson Olds), the Capital National Bank Tower and the Michigan National Bank Tower. The fairly obscure Hopkins and Dentz of New York designed it.

East of the capitol a few blocks is public art so new that it doesn’t appear on the StreetView image from the summer of 2017.
“Portrait of a Dreamer” by Ivan Iler, installed in December 2017. Naturally, Roadside America has the story: “The giant mechanical head is 15 feet high and is built out of almost two tons of aluminum and stainless steel.

“Visitors are encouraged to turn a crank at its base to move the gears, which spill out of the head toward Lansing’s cultural district. The purpose of the sculpture is to turn visitors’ heads while they turn the crank, so that they notice the science center and museums that they otherwise might miss along Michigan Ave.”

Bay City State Park

Posted on September 8, 2019 by admin

It’s near Bay City, Michigan, but even so Bay City State Park strikes me as a misnomer. It isn’t that near, for one thing — you have drive some miles to reach the edge of the city. Saginaw Bay State Park would be better, because that’s the salient feature of the park.

Though it’s a bit of a walk to take in the view. That’s what we did last Sunday morning.
Worth it.
“Bay City State Park, situated on the shores of the Saginaw Bay, is home to one of the largest remaining freshwater, coastal wetlands on the Great Lakes, the Tobico Marsh,” the Michigan DNR says. “More than a thousand feet of sandy beach and over 2,000 acres of wetland woods, wet meadows, cattail marshlands and oak savannah prairies make it an ideal staging area for migratory birds.”

We spent time on the beach, but also walked around the nearby lagoon, which took the better part of an hour.
The air was neither hot nor cold, no mosquitoes bothered us — hard to believe, considering some of our mosquito experiences in Michigan — and the place wasn’t crowded at all, even though it was Labor Day weekend. The dog was happy to sniff along but didn’t pull too hard. Occasionally we’d hear a motor in the distance, but the hum of traffic you hear from every direction in the suburbs wasn’t there. Birds, bugs and wind are most of what you hear in a place like that, if you leave your noisemaking gizmos behind.

Even better than all that, we’d come some distance to be there. That seasoned the experience for the better. All in all, a near perfect walk.

Divers Michigan Gardens

Posted on September 5, 2019 by admin

Michigan State University, which we visited on Saturday, is almost as big as they come in academia, in enrollment and acreage. Tucked away on campus is the W.J. Beal Botanical Garden — and I mean that almost literally, since the garden occupies a five-acre, near-circular depression in the earth. You need to go down an outdoor staircase to reach it.

The garden is meticulously organized. I’ve never seen a botanical garden so thoroughly arrayed by categories important to botanists (and the rest of us, if you care about the difference between, say, edible plants and poisonous ones).

Long curving and straight beds separated by a fair amount of grass form the basis of the garden.

Each bed belongs to a category of plant. According to a sign posted in the garden, categories include perfume plants, fiber plants, dye plants, fixed oil plants, honey plants, flavoring plants, injurious plants, indigenous American plants, weeds, vegetables, grains and medicinal plants. There are also geographic categories: Southeast U.S. forest, European forest, northern Michigan, southern Michigan, and so on.

“This garden,” the sign says, “functions as an outdoor laboratory, a repository of plant genetics, a resource for research and teaching, and a place for the community to appreciate the beauty and biology of plants. There are over 2,500 plants in the labeled beds alone… established in 1873, this is one of the oldest continually operated gardens of its kind in the United States.”

The place wows with variety. I have to like a garden that includes weeds on purpose. Such as the weedy-looking Cardoon.
Among the medicinal plants, there’s belladonna, though I would have thought it went in the injurious category.
Injurious plants, according to the garden, include mechanically injurious (guess that would be by thorns and such), milk-tainting, those that inspire hay fever and contact dermatitis, cyanogenic and poisonous seed, among others.

One handsome plant I’d never heard of before — there are a lot of those in the world — was the Princess Tree (Paulownia tomentosa).
On Sunday, we visited two gardens, both in Midland. One was the compact but a-bloom Dahlia Hill, which sports about 3,000 dahlia plants arranged on eight stone terraces. According to the garden, there are over 300 varieties of dahlias there, with an example of each variety planted and labeled along gravel pathways.

A local artist and dahlia enthusiast, Charles Breed (d. 2018), founded the garden in 1992 and oversaw its terracing some years later to control erosion.

Dahlias are another example of I-had-no-idea-that. As in, that there are so many varieties. Who knew? Not me.
No Black Dahlias that I could see. Some wag of a horticulturist might have bred such.

We visited the big Dow Gardens separately, Yuriko and Ann first, then me, since ordinary dogs aren’t allowed in.
I spent about two hours there under overcast skies that always threatened rain but seldom even drizzled. That must have kept the crowds away. For minutes at a time, I was by myself on the large lawns and among the countless trees, passing by lush bushes and flower beds.

Water features figure prominently in the garden’s design.
All together there are 1,700 varieties of plant in the garden suitable for cultivation in central Michigan. Now at 110 acres, the garden started out as a private eight-acre garden of chemical mogul Herbert Dow, founder of Dow Chemical. Later generations of Dows enlarged the place and set up the foundation that runs it now.

Dow has a fine rose garden, too.
What do you do in a rose garden, whether you’ve been promised one or not? Stop and smell the roses, of course.

My own skills at gardening are meager, but I like a stroll through a well-executed garden. That’s no different than a lot of things. I can’t sing worth a damn, but I sure like listening to a good singer.

Been There, Seen That

By Dees Stribling