Almost 50 years ago, a group of people who were tired of living by rules of the establishment and plying their "games" started migrating, one or two at a time to a forest near the Canadian border. The place was called the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and county road 510 ran through the selected forest.
At that time, 510 was only wide enough in places for one and a half cars, so if you met an oncoming car, you pulled over and waited for it to pass. Usually, it was one of the people living somewhere close to the road, so, generally, you just both stopped and talked without worrying about anyone else driving down the road.
It was a slower pace of life, and we all liked that. No houses, which were hand-built by the owner, had electricity from a local power line, no sewage system, running water from a local pipeline or any type of central heating. We all had woodstoves to heat our houses, which meant we had to provide the wood ourselves for heating.
Some had gardens for growing vegetables, some hunted deer in the winter for meat, and we all bought some food from a food co-op store in the nearest town, Marquette. At one time, there were maybe 20-30 people living on that road. For me, it was one of the best times of my life. There was actually a community of people who were willing to help each other, no matter what the task, and that is hard to find today.
Two of the first people to move there and build their own log cabin were Lorin and Cathy. They were from lower Michigan, as were many others. I think I was the only one from Illinois.
Lorin knew many practical things, and Cathy had a "green thumb" when it came to gardening. For different reasons, after some years, families began leaving and returning to the other world, to cities. After many years on that road, Lorin and Cathy eventually moved back to lower Michigan. Age finally catches up with us all.
When I was building my house, I had advice and help with things I wasn't sure of or didn't know how to do. Steve cut the difficult angles for the roof rafters of my house, Cathy showed me how to sew mittens with deer skin, George built the winding metal staircase for my house, and Mike showed me how to grow a specific kind of plant. With a different Mike, I watched a TV program once a week using a car battery for electricity and spent some winters in conversation. All of these memories I keep of those people, and I always remember those years.
While I am thankful for where I now live, I would gladly step into a time machine and go back to those years.
