Hanging out in Algers

Alger


We stopped in Alger to have breakfast with my wife’s aunt and uncle. They have a cabin on the banks of the Tittabawassee River. John, Laura, and their shitzu, Chico, greeted us at the door. They welcomed us inside. 


Out in back, the Tittabawassee’s level was very low. It was strange to see the earth’s strata descending into the cavernous river like layers of a desert canyon. It all started with heavy rain back in May. The river was cresting at a record level, but just 2 days later, the water was too much. Three damns failed—the Tittabawassee, Edenville, and Sanford. The waters rushed downstream and the Midland area ended up underwater. It’s being called a “500-year” event. 


And still, the river, even in this condition, was bringing back memories. I thought of a summer passed. We were eating and drinking, on holiday. Then we took the pontoon boat for a spin and let the kids drive. My wife’s other uncle, Mike, was instructing. We rode around on the river for an hour, then stopped for refreshments at the Secord Eagles, then floated around again. By that time, the urge to use the restroom was overwhelming. I was literally dancing. Uncle Mike was showing my son how to park—back and forth, back and forth, no, not quite there, try it again...

I leapt from the pontoon boat, over a two-foot span, landed on the dock, running at a full sprint, waiting to burst.


But now, even the pilings of that dock were exposed almost to the river bed, several feet below. 


“Does anyone still go in the river?” someone asked. Uncle John said, “People still swim in it, but no boats, really. They say it may take at least a year before the damns are repaired and the level comes back.” 



Tittabawassee River, Alger, Michigan

Inside the cabin, we sat down to an awesome meal. Laura had prepared a quiche. There were layers of fluffy eggs, cheese, bacon, and potato, reminiscent of a Spanish tortilla or the classic quiche Loraine, minus the crust. It was delicious, warm and satisfying. Meanwhile, John had crafted a coffee cake. To describe the cake with, “it was moist,” would be an understatement. 


“There’s pineapple in there,” John explained. “I didn’t know if you could tell.” 


No. I couldn’t. Not until he revealed it. The cake’s consistency was approaching tres leches-level moisture. “This is very good,” I insisted. With a crumbled, caramelized topping, soaked in butter, nuts, and brown sugar, this cake was immortalized in my coffee cake hall of fame. I also took pleasure in using two massive mugs of strong black coffee to wash-down the best breakfast I’d had in weeks. Maybe months. 


We refilled our coffees, then moved ourselves over to an old leather furniture set. It was old but had obviously stood the test of time. The leather was thick. The frame was heavy. Cushions were plush. It’s the type of furniture they don’t make any more unless you’re willing to part with the price of a small automobile. 


Five of the largest blue jays I had ever seen, and three chipmunks, ate from a pile of birdseed on the other side of two large windows that faced the river. A hummingbird buzzed around a small sugar feeder attached to the outer pane. Chico and our daughter, Addison, watched the wildlife intently. 


Laura keeps a small notebook in the cabin. It’s a journal for guests to write about their experiences. It’s been filled over the years with various handwritings and light hearted exclamations: “We finally made it!” and “We had a great time!” There’s also more heartfelt notes like, “Thank you for your prayers.” Laura gave Addison the journal and she began to write. 


We watched through the windows, appreciating the atmosphere. We laughed and talked about grandma and grandpa—both passed-on—as well as culture, politics, covid, and more family. Then, aunt Laura prayed for us all and she and John wished us well. When we left, it was difficult to forgo the comfort of family, the need to be close to others, during a time when we’re discouraged from doing it. It was also somewhat unsettling to head out onto the road with the feeling that, as 2020 has already taught us, we should take nothing for granted. 

Comments

Popular Posts