I Heart Ypsilanti

I’m sitting in bed on my laptop. It’s so quiet; it feels strange and I’m getting that out of sorts lost feeling…

I spent a good portion of the day in my office catching up on some podcasts and making a few tweaks to my wireless router and my firewall. I did make myself a very tasty and healthy breakfast, lunch, and dinner…and even made a few chocolate chip cookies to treat myself. They are my biggest weakness, but today I felt that I deserved a sweet treat.

Around 3:00, after a shower, I put on some comfortable clothes and a light jacket to go for a walk. It was such a beautiful day and I didn’t want to miss it. I took my digital camera and pretended to be a photographer while I walked (more like hiked) along the banks of the Huron River, which is only a block and a half from my apartment. I think I got some nice shots so I’ll post a few this week when I have some spare time. But, at any rate, the goal wasn’t to really get good shots; it was just to have fun and enjoy the day: enjoy my life and my home.

I know some people really don’t care for Ypsilanti; and there are plenty of areas in it that I don’t even like to drive through because of the rampant crime and drugs, but my neighborhood isn’t like that. No, it’s not the safest place in the world, but I’ve lived here for about 8 years and the only problems I’ve ever had were when my car was broken into twice—it was an old ugly truck. I didn’t lock the door because it would freeze in the winter, so a couple of times desperate people broke into it to take the change or the rosary from the mirror. Why someone felt the need to steal someone else’s rosary, I don’t know, but hopefully it’s doing them some good. That’s how I feel about it…and that’s all the trouble I’ve had.

As I was walking today and crawling around the steep and wooded banks—something I haven’t done in a couple of years—I kind of had a peaceful feeling…a familiar feeling come over me. It occurred to me then that this place—Depot Town, Ypsilanti—is really my home. I mean it really feels like home. And that’s significant because I was born and raised in the diverse valleys of Southern California. I spent nearly 18 years there, but it never felt like home like Ypsilanti does to me.

I love being so close to the river and the parks. I love that any time I want to go fishing, all I gotta do it grab my pole and walk, leisurely, for about 5 minutes and I’m there. It’s pretty good fishing, too, and it’s fun to be watched by little kids as I’m waist deep in the river: “Look, dad…it’s a girl fishing!”

I love that a whole bunch of Elvis impersonators come flocking here once a year for Elvis Fest. I love that every Thursday night during the summer there’s a classic car show. I love that there’s a fire engine museum a block from me. I love that there are great restaurants and bars just a short walk across a bridge; that my hairdresser is right next to one of those bars and that one of my best friends is just a few blocks farther. I love that there are big, beautiful, historic houses surrounding me. No, I can’t afford to buy one like I wish I could, but it’s fun to walk buy it and dream a little. There’s one for sale now on Washington—the Louis House. I could see myself in it today.

Yea, I still want to move to Chicago and live in a high rise flat—at least part of the year while I’m writing; but until then it’s nice to know that Ypsi will keep me perfectly happy.

Thanks, home…I feel better now. ‘Night.