Great Lake Bulletin Winter 1997

When I was young, my mother and I would pack up and go far north of the college in Texas where we lived to Washington, D.C., to visit my mother's sister and her husband. I made a speedy transition from one community to another, knowing instinctively that I was safe, cared for, and, alas, when bad, disciplined by a variety of people who were sure of themselves in a neighborhood of like-minded individuals.
In both places I was part of a community of people striving to do their part in maintaining a good life. The notions were clear and simple: be good and you will do good, which included maintaining beautiful lawns and gardens, an old American concept of how a community should be maintained. For friends who lived in the country, either Maryland or Virginia, the notion extended itself to preserving the beauty of the land.
Now, whenever I go to my old neighborhood in Washington, called Capitol View (I could run to the corner and actually see the Capitol), I see the overgrowth of the area with masses of apartment buildings squeezed on what used to be small lots, and Maryland and Virginia, in particular, are victims of malldom. I think immediately, and sadly, of the book, How Green was My Valley...

The ideal of American democracy from the beginning has had the undergirding philosophy of a rational approach to growth and progress, because the framers of the Constitution believed leaders in the community individually possessed a conscience to do good rather than bad. (I shall risk the argument that these early leaders gave what they thought of as good reasons for slavery and the subjugation of women because the overarching theories during those times, such as doing good for the sake of general society, were contemplated, argued, and carried out in terms of white males. We must live with history, but try to change what comes after us).

Can we in this area known as Northern Lower Michigan see ourselves as a community and, if so, what does this mean? Does the pull to venture here, for young and old, hold the same power for those who have lived here all of their lives? My unscientific poll says yes, and this filters down to the essence of a personal feeling for the land and how we use it -- viewing it, sailing upon the waters, fishing, hunting, biking, walking -- and how we understand that we owe this northern country some measure of respect and care.
When I drive around the area, I see car license plates from all over the United States and Canada; these people come from afar to enjoy the loveliness of our land and the festivities that occur periodically. It is a validation of our own belief in the reasons we live here. I came, for instance, to be in a country space to write and walk and to enjoy the music that is an eternal part of my life. People do not come to an area, or remain, for the most part, if there is no pleasure in their lives; and I do not imply that a love of nature is the only, perhaps prevailing, reason, but it is a strong one.
For some of us, nature is the reason for living here; for me, this is proclaimed daily, as I walk along my road, or stroll through the forest area through sun-dappled tunnels of green. During the winter the experience is different, but as invigorating, as life giving, as it is now while I write of living in a wide community of individuals who love Northern Lower Michigan. Writing is how I take up the helm of leadership in the community, by pleading for a sensible and sensitive development of the land.

Does it seem too poetic to view our area as I have expressed? I think not, for the air we breath, the skies we see -- the most beautiful in the world, claims my ninety-three year old mother -- the waters in which we swim and sail, the paths we walk: all have a claim on our life and thought. Nature informs our life in ways we cannot always perceive, but the enrichment is there, sometimes silent, sometimes so visceral that we are breathless.
The gift of the beauty around us is not to be taken for granted, to be held cheap, to be thought of as replaceable in a temporal sense, or to be held in fee by forces that deny or try to obliterate this beauty.We must, in a practical way, work to enlighten, educate, and sometimes eliminate these forces. It is a moral duty we must accept as a member of this community up north.
Otherwise, we will, like the destroyers, become death, and will go whimpering to our own destruction without having the strength to ask -- "But, how did this happen? Who let this happen?" As Marianne Moore wrote in her poem, "In Distrust of Merits"--



Featured Essay Our Community Up North By Margaret Perry "A community is like a ship; everyone ought to be prepared to take the helm." - Henrik Ibsen - When I was young, my mother and I would pack up and go far north of the college in Texas where we lived to Washington, D.C., to visit my mother's sister and her husband. I made a speedy transition from one community to another, knowing instinctively that I was safe, cared for, and, alas, when bad, disciplined by a variety of people who were sure of themselves in a neighborhood of like-minded individuals. In both places I was part of a community of people striving to do their part in maintaining a good life. The notions were clear and simple: be good and you will do good, which included maintaining beautiful lawns and gardens, an old American concept of how a community should be maintained. For friends who lived in the country, either Maryland or Virginia, the notion extended itself to preserving the beauty of the land. Now, whenever I go to my old neighborhood in Washington, called Capitol View (I could run to the corner and actually see the Capitol), I see the overgrowth of the area with masses of apartment buildings squeezed on what used to be small lots, and Maryland and Virginia, in particular, are victims of malldom. I think immediately, and sadly, of the book, How Green was My Valley... The ideal of American democracy from the beginning has had the undergirding philosophy of a rational approach to growth and progress, because the framers of the Constitution believed leaders in the community individually possessed a conscience to do good rather than bad. (I shall risk the argument that these early leaders gave what they thought of as good reasons for slavery and the subjugation of women because the overarching theories during those times, such as doing good for the sake of general society, were contemplated, argued, and carried out in terms of white males. We must live with history, but try to change what comes after us). Can we in this area known as Northern Lower Michigan see ourselves as a community and, if so, what does this mean? Does the pull to venture here, for young and old, hold the same power for those who have lived here all of their lives? My unscientific poll says yes, and this filters down to the essence of a personal feeling for the land and how we use it -- viewing it, sailing upon the waters, fishing, hunting, biking, walking -- and how we understand that we owe this northern country some measure of respect and care. When I drive around the area, I see car license plates from all over the United States and Canada; these people come from afar to enjoy the loveliness of our land and the festivities that occur periodically. It is a validation of our own belief in the reasons we live here. I came, for instance, to be in a country space to write and walk and to enjoy the music that is an eternal part of my life. People do not come to an area, or remain, for the most part, if there is no pleasure in their lives; and I do not imply that a love of nature is the only, perhaps prevailing, reason, but it is a strong one. For some of us, nature is the reason for living here; for me, this is proclaimed daily, as I walk along my road, or stroll through the forest area through sun-dappled tunnels of green. During the winter the experience is different, but as invigorating, as life giving, as it is now while I write of living in a wide community of individuals who love Northern Lower Michigan. Writing is how I take up the helm of leadership in the community, by pleading for a sensible and sensitive development of the land. Does it seem too poetic to view our area as I have expressed? I think not, for the air we breath, the skies we see -- the most beautiful in the world, claims my ninety-three year old mother -- the waters in which we swim and sail, the paths we walk: all have a claim on our life and thought. Nature informs our life in ways we cannot always perceive, but the enrichment is there, sometimes silent, sometimes so visceral that we are breathless. The gift of the beauty around us is not to be taken for granted, to be held cheap, to be thought of as replaceable in a temporal sense, or to be held in fee by forces that deny or try to obliterate this beauty.We must, in a practical way, work to enlighten, educate, and sometimes eliminate these forces. It is a moral duty we must accept as a member of this community up north. Otherwise, we will, like the destroyers, become death, and will go whimpering to our own destruction without having the strength to ask -- "But, how did this happen? Who let this happen?" As Marianne Moore wrote in her poem, "In Distrust of Merits"--
		I inwardly did nothing. O Iscariotlike crime!
	We can do something, you and I, and the time is now -- we can avoid saying later we were not with the destroyers, even as we did nothing. We can join as a community and play a role in overseeing how our land is developed, for ourselves and for the generations that will be our inheritors of this earth.u Margaret Perry is an author and Institute member from Springdale Township, in northern Manistee County.

Featured Essay Our Community Up North

Featured Essay
Our Community Up North