From Michigan With Love: Notes and Musings of a Toll Booth Operator

It's about 8:30am on a Sunday in July. We've got beautiful Michigan weather this morning. It is humid, muggy. The sky is blue but lightly glazed over with a layer of cloud, so it is a light, but bright, blue-gray.

The trees I tend to take for granted, but they are vibrant green. Just like my own skin which after time in the sun turns smooth and soft and a deeper color, so do the tree leaves. They radiate with healthful color, full of photosynthesized nutrients.

People have been coming into the park in streams, even at this early hour. That's what summer does. I am amazed at the ability, drive, discipline, eagerness and enthusiasm  that every one of these individuals exhibit. They are motivated people, and they are full of life. Who else would drag themselves to thhe park so early in the morning? A number of them even biked in, so they had to get up extra early to stretch that spandex over their bodies.

I love saying good morning to everyone who drives slow enough past me, and has their window down.

"Morning."
"Good mornin'."
"G'mornin'"

And then I think about our specific location in the world, and how we speak so casually, using this universal greeting, but we speak with a Michigan accent (you know, some variation of that Northern accent that we share with Canadians, among others).

But heere we are, right here in small town Michigan. We feel normal and like we could, and be as well be, anywhere, but our accent gives us away.

"I'll get an annual pass please"
"Great," (I say with emphasis on a long, sharp A: grAt),"Can I put it on your car for ya?" The 'ya' makes this question sound more casual, and flowy than pronouncing 'you' which takes longer to say and more enunciating.

I love working mornings at the park. This is heaven on earth. This is paradise, you don't need to go to California to find it.

The sunlight is soft. The world is slow. "Stay cool," an early morning disc golfer greets me, and dispells his well-wishes onto me. Lots of the folks coming in are going to play disc golf before it gets unbearable hot and humid out there.

Lots of other folks are coming to walk, walk their dogs, bike or blade around the trails. Luckily, I get to see the phenomenon in action, as a section of the trail is only about 20 yards away from the booth.

And lucky me, I get to greet each and every one of them as they begin their outing, their adventure, their encounter with the wild. The horse flies are as rough as things get here:

"Well;" says a patron as he stops by the toll booth on his way out. He pauses as he wipes the  sweat off his neck with his t-shirt in his hand, "The horse flies got  their breakfast today." I burst out in a laugh. Unsure of what to say, I cry, "Great!" As he speeds away. Off to start the rest of his day.

But I saw some bunnies, and deer this morning. And the ground squirrels who live in the field at the front of the park are fascinating to observe.