Late May, 2009 - We arrived from the Burbank, California airport to a wonderful, warm family
reception in Detroit, Michigan. Mark hadn't lived there in 30 years, and since then had made only
short visits, so we had many great get-togethers ahead of us. In between, we wanted to
squeeze in some sight-seeing, as I had never seen much of Michigan, and Mark's motorcycle
trips around the state were back in the days when he had long hair, short shorts, and Rock
hadn't yet been labeled "Classic."
We arrived in Detroit at an especially dark hour in the city's
history. Chrysler was in bankruptcy, GM was headed that
way soon, and most people we visited were out of work.
Unfortunately, I forgot my camera as we toured some of the
amazing mansions that were built by the auto industry's
icons in the days when their profits flowed like wine. The
sultans of that industry lived better than kings. The opulence was breathtaking. I could only
wonder what the factory workers thought in the early 1900's as they saw these castle-like
estates going up. No wonder the unions became so strong: the profits were staggering and
the leaders weren't into sharing.
The auto industry was a cash cow that kept giving and giving and giving, for decades. Eventually everyone had a piece of the pie,
and as the news anchors droned on about the industry's current woes, like the retirees losing their vision and dental benefits
(gasp!), we heard a few back stories about Generous Motors that flushed out the details. From more than one person we learned
how folks on the line used to punch in at work, head to the bar for the day, and then punch out. Or punch in, find a quiet spot to
sleep through their shift, and then punch out. The party lasted for almost a century. I couldn't help but wonder: how would the
founders of those companies feel if they saw their city today? Where would their industry be now if those early leaders had instilled
a culture of productivity, cooperation and true generosity instead of one based on greed?
The story of Detroit's malaise filled the airwaves each night. A mansion that had sold in recent years for $15 million got auctioned
off during our visit for less than $5 million. Half of the gorgeous estates we drove past along the Grosse Pointe waterfront were for
sale. The once unstoppable flow of profits had dried up.
Eager for some pretty scenery, we drove a circle loop around
Lake St. Clair, the Detroit area lake that sits between Lake Huron
to the north and Lake Erie to the south, dividing its shores
between the US and Canada.
Harsen's Island was our first stop, and we drove onto the ferry for
the 10 minute ride to the island. Harsen's island is very rural at
one end, with graceful homes spread out along the lake.
At the other end, the village of San Souci
beckons visitors with charming victorian
B&B's, cute shops and a laid back air.
We stopped at the Riverside Grocery for
lunch, watching some kids rolling by on
their bikes and a pair of young lovers
sitting side by side gazing at the boats in
the water. This seemed a perfect place
for languid summer afternoons.
A little further up the coast we walked around Marine City and watched another ferry boat
carrying people across the river to and from Canada. We heard later that this is the best place
to cross the border, as the lines are short. Along the river, both the Canadian side and US
side have stretches of gracious
homes mixed with stretches of
heavy industry.
After spending some time on both
sides of this river, it seemed that
there is a strong unity that bonds
the people of this region,
regardless of the
presence of an
international border
between them. We saw homes flying both
countries' flags off their porches, and we saw
posters with both flags crossed and the
words: "United we stand." So it was odd, and
sad, to see several US border patrol cars
sitting on the US side facing Canada. We are
accustomed to seeing them in southern
California and Arizona, but here they seemed
out of place.
Up in Port Huron we took
the bridge across to
Canada's small city of
Sarnia, Ontario. The
lady at the visitors
center suggested we
get some Bridge
Fries from one of the
vendors under the
bridge. Served
Canadian style with
vinegar, we found
her recommendation
was right on. Yum!
Heading down the
Canadian side of the St. Clair River we felt ourselves relaxing. The homes
are nicely spread out. We stopped at Bogey's Inn near the village of
Sombra for the night and ended up in their largest suite for their regular
motel room rate. "Last year at this time I was booked solid," the proprietor
said with frustration. The night we stayed we were the only tourists there.
We veered away from Lake St. Clair the next morning to catch a glimpse of
Lake Erie. The fertile farmlands stretched for miles with classic red barns
and homesteads dotting the green vistas. Suddenly the beautiful shores of
Lake Erie opened up before us. The lake was turquoise and clear, and the
homes were perched high above the lake with rolling grass lawns stretching
down to the water.
We stopped at a farm stand, thinking we'd grab some apples to snack
on. As we approached, the luscious aroma of baked goodies wafted
through the door. We stepped inside and were suddenly surrounded by
pies, buns, breads, cookies and the like -- along with fresh picked
healthy veggies. At the sight of those pies Mark was in heaven. "Wow!
I'm going to get one of everything," he joked with the lady at the counter
as his eyes darted from table to table. I wandered around looking for the
one perfect snack, admiring the rows of maple syrups and jams while I
mulled over getting a muffin or a scone or a mini sweet loaf. When I
walked over to the register with my lone apple bran muffin, there was
Mark with "one of everything" -- and two of several things -- laid out
across the counter in front of him. He grinned at me sheepishly and
shrugged. How often do you find a gold mine like this?
We piled our boatload of baked goods into the car and had a small
feast of pies and cookies while overlooking the lake's crystal waters
across the street. There was an opening that led to the water, and
we wandered down to dip our toes in the lake. Some University
students were trapping Gobi fish, an invasive non-native fish that
they want to remove from the lake. They were taking the Gobies
back to the lab to try to find some natural deterrent to limit the spread
of this unwanted fish. Unfortunately, though, the Gobi's were proving
especially tricky to trap.
We stopped in a small harbor town
to stretch our legs, and continued
our slow journey back towards
Windsor, Ontario and the Detroit
River. Faced with another border
crossing back to Detroit, and not
sure exactly what the rules were
regarding baked goods crossing the
border, we stopped and gobbled
down as many of our remaining pies
and pastries as we could. The
strawberry-rhubarb pie was out of this world, and we each slyly unbuttoned the top button on
our pants to make room for more. But even stuffed to the gills, we still had some pastries and
pies to go. We just had to risk losing our booty the border. Of course, in the end, although
every car in line at the border had its spare tire removed and inspected, causing an hours-long
traffic jam at the tunnel, no one asked if we were bringing in any contraband pies.
After a few more days of family gatherings, we headed out on a slightly longer sojourn into