Morning in Detroit

I snapped this earlier today, just after Suzanne dropped me off. It was about 7:40 a.m. and this view is looking east (obviously) down Michigan Avenue into the heart of downtown. At the risk of sounding Robert Duvall-ish, I love Detroit in the morning.

Our route in the morning brings us east on 96 for most of the 20 minute drive, banks south briefly, and then turns east again. Just as the road makes the big curve east, the city skyline comes into view. On clear mornings, the buildings look like a shimmering mirage and everything seems good. Morning light just has a way of making things look better. The streets don't seem as filled with trash, the chipped, grime-caked sides of the old buildings gleam, and steam rising from manhole covers is beautiful rather than gross. The day is still good, y'know? No students have freaked out, no co-workers have quit or been fired, and I still have my lunch to eat. As much as I have never, ever been an early-rising type of person, I do enjoy the view in the morning.

On another note, Suzanne, the girls, and I drove up to Port Huron last Saturday for a we-know-summer-is-ending-so-we'd-better-have-fun- while-we-can trip. Between Ricks College and her mission, Suzanne worked at a girls camp called Camp Stapleton. This was back when kids from the inner city were being bussed an hour north to spend two and three weeks at a time doing crafts, playing in the lake, and probably missing home like crazy.

Anyway, I'd always known she'd worked in the Port Huron area -- but what I didn't know until this weekend is that her old workplace is right next door to the camp where my work takes students for retreats a couple times a year. It's so weird that the world is so small. A place where Suzanne worked over a decade ago is right next door to where I take my students now. It seems like our relationship has always been fraught with odd coincidences like that. Like the fact that her older brother was one of my MTC instructors. Or the fact that she ran into my ex-girlfriend at a random, two-week telemarketing job she took in Provo one summer -- and ran into her just as said ex was writing me a letter. There are about half a dozen other little moments of weirdness I could list but I won't. That's a whole other post. My treatise on fate and the idea of "meant to be" will have to wait for another day.

The point is, we went to her old camp, looked around, played at the beach, and generally had a really good time.

Maryn and Avery looking (as they would call it) "fashion" on the tree stump.

The waters of Lake Huron.