plymouth, part two

When my friend Bubba lived in the Yoop, Michigan's Upper Peninsula, he liked to talk about one day making Munising a "Bohemian Utopia." Having spent time in Munising during summers growing up, I thought it was kind of a stretch. It's located on the south shore of Lake Superior, with the famed Pictured Rocks nearby, but otherwise, there's not much really to work with.

Plymouth, Wisconsin, on the other hand, is ripe for a hipster invasion.

Downtown is filled with under-utilized buildings that with equal parts imagination, hard work and money, could really shine with quirky, unprofitable businesses. Just to the north, is a vast neighborhood of homes in various states of repair, but most with good bones, stately trees and owners who probably could be bought out of big city life. Plus, it's rural Wisconsin, so it's chock full of ironic delights, including a county fairground with a dirt car race track, a river named after a bad haircut, and an iconic Holstein to greet your return from the three-storey Kohler design center in Kohler.

I guess there are two types of bohemians in the world — those who travel and those who create destinations. So come and build your dream. I'll make sure to come by and visit. Eventually.

plymouth, wi part one

I went for a walk on Good Friday. Between my father's apartment and the Mullet river — no lie — there's a small graveyard. I cut through it, pleased that so many of the century-old cement plank markers hadn't been vandalized and mended, carefully avoided those standing at sites because of the holiday.

In the corner overlooking the middle school and the river, I stumbled upon an area reserved for children. It was the saddest piece of real estate I've ever walked. Some of the markers only had year listed, some only a day. One didn't even offer a name: "INFANT SON OF S.L. LUECK."

Another marker had the dates 1903–1920. Two images crossed my mind: one of a patient young lady who liked to baby sit and another of a sullen girl forced to dine the children's table during Thanksgiving.

I wonder if there was solace for the parents in sharing. See? It is not uncommon. A dozen others here, and this the small town's smallest cemetery. I doubt it was any comfort, and hope to never know.