It is not Traverse City

An update from north of the 45th Parallel…

St. Ignace edition.

There’s an authenticity to my favorite Caribbean joints.

There’s an authenticity to my favorite people.

There’s an authenticity to my favorite songs.

There’s an authenticity to St Ignace, that I’m starting to appreciate.

And it started, just recently, while sitting at a waterfront establishment where I found myself in the middle of the banter between the bartender and a local business owner. I was lost, as they traded barbs, inside jokes, and local gossip. But it was fun to witness. This was not the kind of conversation you’d have in front of tourists, or perhaps you would, if it’s simply who you are.

It finally started to hit me, and St. Ignace finally started to make sense to me.

It is not Traverse City.

And that’s OK.

St. Ignace is truly a working waterfront town - freight boats, ferries, fishing boats and freighters all navigating these Straits.

And the cast of characters that make it all happen…well, you can bet it’s a colorful one.

Authentic, to say the least.

Smack dab in the middle of it, a modern marina littered with recreational boats, including the kind that sail…and a slip where my mighty Snoloha sailing vessel lives.

It’s easy, too easy, to romanticize the past. To only recall the best parts. And then, those best parts are what haunt you.

I have to be intentional and not dwell on just the amazing things that I love about TC.

I have to slap my selective memory across the face and also recall the things that frustrated me - watching so much of what made it unique, slowly become polished, upscale, and carefully curated - no real character.

Nothing wrong with that, but it just wasn’t the sleepier version of the beach town that I remembered. Even places that looked authentic, were simply designed that way.

Manufactured authenticity.

Which, ironically, social media tends to reward. We’re all oxymorons, I suppose.

I like to think — would Jimmy write a song about this place? It could be any place. But in this case, that place is St Ignace. And I think, with certainty, in fact, that he would.

And that, as ridiculous as it sounds, brings me some satisfaction.

Two years in, and it’s a work in progress. But, it’s progress. I still struggle, often in fact, with this transition. But my beautiful, deserving wife and my amazing, awesome daughters, are all thriving and growing. And that, in turn, keeps me going. Keeps me growing. Keeps me searching for authenticity and for those answers to questions that bother me so.

Authenticity can’t be bought or manufactured. That, I like. And I like that about St Ignace. I also like that about our home, Carp Lake. But that’s an update for another day.