Under Construction

I’ve lived in Michigan for almost 20 years.

People ask me if it was difficult moving here from Pennsylvania. How hard was it to get used to the weather?

(Answer: I loathe going out into ‘the weather’, so it was very easy for me. I avoid it here and avoided it there.)

What do I miss the most about Pittsburgh?

Besides my daughters and their families [one of which doesn’t even live there anymore], I miss the hills. And Primanti’s. And the Strip District. And the view of the city coming down I-279.

But, really, MI and PA have a lot in common.

For instance; they are both sports towns. Detroit has the Red Wings. Pittsburgh has the Steelers.

So, really. Not much comparison there. Six Super bowls. But still. Sports. And the Lions are WAY outperforming my hometown team this year.

MI has lots of water, too. Not the Pittsburgh Three Rivers, but LOTS of water. My father-in-law told me it was a fact: you are never farther than 20 miles from water in MI.

So: water.

And both MI and PA share the same state flower. The highway construction cone. It pops up in more places than a dandelion and is harder to displace. Just when you think you have them eradicated they erupt someplace more inconvenient and obtrusive.

This is, I kid you not, this is the truth; a new 17-mile construction project in MI is estimated to take 14 YEARS to finish.

Yes. That is nuts. Even I move faster than that.

Bitterness and puzzlement aside, this means I see a lot of construction equipment. And that’s like PA, too.

One of the first words my oldest daughter said was ‘back-hoe’. A road we passed often on our daily walks was under construction and she loved to visit the giant machines.

One of her first sentences was ‘my back-hoe’ … we had boundary issues, I’m afraid. She took it personally when they finished the work and went away.

We read a lot of books with machinery in them, including one of my favorites: Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel (by Virginia Lee Burton, 1939, Riverside Press).

My grandsons like construction books, and things with engines, and dirt-movers, and tractors, and such.

Lots of kids do.

They enjoy digging holes, building castles of sand and mud, and driving on imagined bridges, through tunnels, and around hairpin turns.

I wonder. When do we stop trying to build things up?

When does tearing down become our preferred activity?

Granted- I don’t drive a bulldozer but I can crush a person flat with a heated tirade. I can plow my way through a conversation with righteous indignation. I can build walls between me and the rest of the world faster than Quik-rete can set-up.

I have pulverized hope. Put dreams through a chipper. Cleared the area of everything green and living in a moment of flame-thrower anger. Buried self-confidence under red-hot fear thicker than asphalt on Main Street.

I’m still a work-in-progress. I’m still under construction. After all these years. So, Michigan- I guess that makes 14 years seem reasonable to re-do 17 miles.

But don’t push it. I expect both of us to make serious progress sooner than that. Guess I'll start today.

~

This time of year I think it's common to look back on your life, weigh what you want to keep, check the things that cause you pain.

One thing I'll always keep with me is the importance of books in my life. You, too? Then you might enjoy this:

If you want to keep writing through the end of this year... or even into January (no ending date for this), then this collection of prompts from me might be quirky enough to inspire you:

(A version of this 'Construction' essay was originally posted on my Medium page.)

Comments always welcomed!