Our records show that we have owned our little log cabin in
Michiana since 1987. And we generally get there once a year or so, invariably
in the summer.
In those twenty-six years, every time we drove Highway 294
from Chicago to Michigan City, there were always
serious construction delays along the way.
Twenty-six years (and who knows how long before that), and the “294” had
apparently still not been entirely repaired, breeding suspicions that late at
night, highway construction workers sneak out there and mess the thing up, so
when they came back the next day, it’s like, “Oh, look! There’s more to do.” I mean, come on! They built the Empire State Building in three
years. They couldn't fix a highway in
thirty?
Anyway, what I’m getting to is, this year, when we drove the
“294”, for the first time in twenty-six years, there were no construction delays
whatsoever. I think somebody finally
caught on. (“Hey, you men! What are you
doing out here?”)
As it turned out, this confounding of our expectations would
be the theme of our entire visit. Not
everything, like our ability to travel the “294” without sitting in traffic
cursing was better. But virtually
everything was different.
Every summer without exception, we arrive at the cabin, and if
we’re there for two weeks, the first week is spent waiting for repair people to
come out and fix something that’s broken, like the time, for example, when
there was no hot water, and we endured four days till the plumber arrived,
heating water in big pots and pouring it over each other in the shower stall.
This time – and I’m telling you, it was the first time ever – the cabin was in perfect shape. (if you don’t count the mouse infestation,
which was, happily, eradicated before we arrived.)
A hail and hardy cabin was an unexpected surprise to be
sure, but, along with the anticipated “294” traffic snafus, another traditional
Michiana activity had been deleted from our itinerary.
Then, there was the weather.
Though we were visiting at the end of July, with the exception of one
day, the local weather was less summer-like than autumnal, with its nippy air
and overcast skies. As a result, there
was only one viable beach day, rather than the numerous we were accustomed to.
Sticking to meteorological
territory, there was yet another
unexpectedness. One of our favorite
Michiana activities is pulling up chairs on our screened-in porch, and watching
the weather. We don’t have weather in California. So it’s quite a novelty – experiencing the rain
bucketing down, counting the seconds between the lightning bolt and the
thunderclap, to determine how far away the center of the storm is. Waiting for some old tree to collapse onto
the telephone wires, plunging the entire neighborhood into darkness.
Talk about your free entertainment!
This year, there were scattered sprinkles now and then. But nothing threatening to an aging tree. Or exciting to terminally deprived weather
watchers.
Then, there were the activities. Normally, we can count on seeing a play at
the Dunes Summer Theater, where,
throughout the summer, local people mount major musical productions, varying
from The Pirates of Penzance to Rent.
The play scheduled for when we were there was some arcane
childrens’ show written by David Mamet.
So, as they say in Texas,
El Paso.
Movies.
Movies in Indiana are of a specialized variety, meaning
unilaterally mainstream. If you lived in
Michigan City, you would think Woody Allen hadn’t made a picture since Annie Hall.
I know it’s the summer, auguring the unlikelihood of Oscar contenders, so, you know, you
lower the bar. Which we always do,
allowing us to attend three, maybe four movies at the 14-theater Michigan City
multiplex per visit.
This summer, however, as you may have noticed, the cinematic
“Quality Bar” is not just low, it’s been buried. Fourteen theaters, and there not a single
offering that could even attract our apathy.
Aw, come on,
Earlo. You can’t be that big of a
snob.
The Conjuring, Pacific
Rim, R.I.P.D., The Lone Ranger (Jay Silverheels has to be spinning in his
grave), White House Down, Wolverine, Grown-Ups 2, World War Z…
Okay, maybe you’re
right.
Compounding the “not a lot to do there” impression was that,
on previous visits, we’d run into annual “Special Events”, involving full-scale
“reenactments” and costumed loonies walking around going, “I am Benjamin Harrison!” One time, one of the multi-masted “Tall
Ships” sailed in. Another time, the Platters (or their descendants) put on a
concert in the park.
The closest thing to a special event on this trip was the highly advertised “Taste of Michigan City.”
A dozen or so restaurants were represented. And four of them were pizza.
Summing up: No highway
traffic jams, no cabin emergencies, no eye-catching weather patterns, no days
at the beach (We took a short walk on the sand, but we ran into an area designated
as a “Private Beach” which had a posted sign that said, “Enjoy walks for
miles. Please sit in park limits.” Apparently, we could walk, but we couldn’t
sit down. We decided not to risk
it. What if we got tired?”) No amateur theater, no movies, and no annual special
events, if you exclude the opportunity for evaluating thick crust versus thin
crust.
So, was our Michiana stay uneventful? In the literal sense, perhaps.
And yet, I would not have missed it for the world.
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