My first visit to a tiny lake in the State of Great Lakes

My husband often mentions how my memory works. He says I keep the memory of the last two weeks and forget everything that happened before. What he means is, I forget the details of the events. I agree with him, oftentimes I only remember the feeling of an event. Was it joyful? Was it frightening? Hurtful perhaps? And everything else remains a blur. This works fantastic for him because he has a great memory and in cases of fights, he can argue mentioning accurate facts, where I memorize only how I felt.

Worse is, a lot of the times I recall incidents that didn’t take place in reality. For example, I vividly remember a night from childhood. We were in Dhaka. There was this lantern festival in our area because of the full moon. The lanterns were life-size, flying so close to our balcony, Palpable! My favorite was the dragon lantern and the jellyfish lantern. The stars were close to the sky as if they landed on our rooftop. But after crosschecking the scene with my mother I came to realize such night never existed but in my mind!

So you see, sometimes I wonder so much in the past and think of parallel possibilities to an extent, that when I do come back in my present I can’t determine what’s true and what’s not! As a result, my memories are a brew of events and imagination. But isn’t this how memory works for you too? In this account of local travel stories, I am your most unreliable source. But the good news is, John always keeps a detailed journal so we can always go back and survey the reality.

For example, the time I told him that mosquitos are going to come after me because I am wearing all black and they are known to be attracted to darker colors and he thought VICE VERSA! Although, it’s not a proven fact that mosquitos are attracted to black. It’s just a saying from childhood, from back home (Dhaka, Bangladesh) and I don’t even remember who said it! So, I googled if it was true. It looks like the mosquito’s attraction has to do less with the color and more with the temperature or sweating. Dark color plays a part in holding more temperatures than lighter colors thus a person wearing black sweats more thus attracts more mosquitoes. This new knowledge reminded me of Suhrawardy Udyan, the park across the street of Charukola (Back in Dhaka, Bangladesh) where I used to hang with my friends from time to time. There would be a colony of mosquitoes, almost looking like a ball, floating on top of our heads and I used to think it was probably because of our hair since it was dark. But in reality, it was probably because our head is usually the warmest part of our body.

John has mentioned several times that his one ear is plugged, so sometimes he simply doesn't hear what I am saying. I talk too much anyway, so John, just to be polite, sometimes just nods and acts like he was listening. The fact that we encountered the same events but still came home with different observations was what inspired me to start writing about it. I find that fascinating about human brains! In the future, during our local Michigan adventures, John and I would perceive the same events with different sets of eyes. In the coming days you will (I hope, I am bad at keeping promises but always the first one to make one) see more experiences of John and me and sometimes there are guest appearances like my mother, Ava, Nancy, Ashley, a group of deer, four white ducks a friendly woodpecker etcetera!

In Michigan, my life is very different than how it was in Dhaka, my husband lives in Dhaka, where I was born. My friends too, my teachers are all so busy and sometimes I feel like they are like the Taylor Swifts of the photography world and unreachable for someone like me. My parents are here in Michigan, but at the same time, they are to be found in two different poles. My brother just locks himself in his room in his little world of music and video games. I did make friends here but they just didn’t stay. The passing of Maria and Kevin left me vulnerable to a point where I locked myself in, for a long time. Maria was one of the first people in the states, who called me a friend. We were neighbors and then we became best friends, sisters, then we started fighting and then she just left. She left for a place where Hardik was, where my grandparents are and where my aunt and uncle recently went, where my father in law went, and where, not to my knowledge then, Kevin will go. Where certainly we will go one day too.

The story I am writing right now is of June 4th, 2020 and it’s a simple story of Newburgh Lake where I went with John. Nothing extraordinary happens and if you are looking for dragons, I have to let you know with my heart as heavy as a stone, I failed to get their appointment. I tried, they were too busy appearing in other people's stories. However, they told me with a promising tone in their voice, 'Better luck next time'.

John is a co-worker and at that time I hadn’t considered him as a friend. But from our conversations from time to time I realized John and I both liked museums, history, mythology, and nature etcetera. John is about sixty years old and I am half his age, Newburgh Lake was the first place we went together, and after that, we never stopped going places. Even though we both are from two very different generations our interests are alike and sometimes we contradict a lot as well. Our upbringing, politics, culture and values are different and we try to make amends when we contradict. One of the things that we both like besides traveling is, writing. This is how our series of exploring local Michigan and writing about it starts.

Even though I appear to be an extrovert, recently I realized that socializing drains me. I am often too scared of meeting new people or going for new memories! I am the first one to make plans and not show up. My school friends have suffered this the most. If I knew then, I would have asked them if they knew of the term ‘Omnivert’? I didn’t know of it then, but even then, I didn’t like to be categorized! So, when I told John that, he was surprised because to him I look like a very social person. He told me I am very social, which is true and at the same time, is a lie.

When John asked me if I wanted to go with him to Newburgh Lake, I didn’t. But I said, ‘sure’. I went to Austin (who was at that time becoming a good friend, we bonded because we were both very close to Kevin and the news of Kevin fighting with cancer was new and shocking to both of us) and asked him ‘What if he abducts me?’

'I am sure you don’t have to worry about it!', said Austin.

‘I guess if I disappear you know who to turn in’ I said and started joking about how it would be a lot of work for John to go through all the hassle of abduction and calling my mother only to realize that she isn’t going to pay shit for ransom.

Austin joked that he might shake hands with John in keeping it confidential for a fifty percent share.

Later I told John that and he laughed, he might think I was being funny but in reality, it was just all the American serial killer documentaries I watched, speaking from the back of my head.

I once watched a Netflix show called ‘American Murder: The Family Next Door’ where a guy kills his wife and two daughters. He was having an affair and I couldn’t figure out how it was easier to kill than to confess? That documentary was horrifying and more so because it was a true story. But still, there was something in the title that bothered me for a long time. ‘American Murder: The Family Next Door’ as if American murders often happen by the people you know, by the people you trust. And that’s something, I hope isn’t true.

It’s October 4th of 2020 today, while I am writing a journal about the Newburgh Lake visit so, I only remember fractions of the things that had happened. Don’t worry; I wasn’t abducted, I am writing from the comfort of my home. I have John's journal (that he wrote the next morning of Newburgh Lake visitation, so efficient!) to guide me through.

That day (June 4th,2020) I insisted that I drive to Newburgh Lake; it was an opportunity for me to practice my driving beyond my workplace, which is literally across the street. John was very good at giving directions. (In the future, however, we will take longer routes. And John’s ‘go east’ ‘go south’ directions will confuse the bananas out of me, but for Newburgh Lake, the route was pretty simple for me to understand directions.)We missed the first parking entrance so John made me get in the second parking lot, turn around, take the exit, get back on the road, come back, and park at the first entrance again! Because he likes the first parking entrance, ‘It’s calmer’, he says.

In the future, I would go to Newburgh Lake at least four more times and I am speaking from the future, confidently, that I prefer the second parking entrance! It’s more spacious.

When we arrived at Newburgh Lake, it was sunny, John’s favorite time of the day. I like twilight when the sun is preparing to leave for the day. To break the ice, I took a few pictures of John. I asked him not to smile and he laughed instead! There was a nice light peeking through the leaves of the trees and I wanted to take a nice portrait of John for when he publishes his book we can slap it in the back endpaper! John never published any book of himself, but he wrote pieces about H. Beam Piper, he made the maps from the fictional stories of the universe Piper made. His pieces were published in another writer's blog; this writer is also called John! John Carr. John Carr even mentioned John (our john, the Newburgh one) in his book saying if there was something called Piperology then our John would be holding a P.H.D on it. I like to think, that one day, John will publish his book and I would like to have a portrait ready for that day. And if he never publishes his book, I would still like to have a nice portrait of him, because, that’s what I do.

At the entrance of the lake, we encountered a group of cyclists. I asked them if I could take a picture of them, they asked me 'why?' I said, because ‘That’s what I do’. They seemed to be satisfied by my answer because then, they did let me take pictures of them before they took off. The pictures didn’t come good. They were all wearing more or less darker colors, which were coherent to each other. But the guy in the middle was wearing a bright orange shirt, that reflected a whole lot of sunlight than any other cyclist. This could still work for a good picture but everyone else was looking at the camera or following my instructions, but the guy in the middle turned his back on me and stood still. I guess, he didn’t want me to take his pictures but got caught in the group photo when everyone else agreed. I took a couple of photographs and lost interest. So, I thanked them and started walking with John.

There was a long wooden picnic table with benches on both sides. A guy with a fishing hat sat on the table and was playing guitar. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt and had a cigarette at the corner of his lips. He was singing along with his music. I took a couple of pictures of him, I didn’t want to interrupt him by asking for permission, I didn’t want to go too close where the click-clack noise of my shutter overpowers the melody of his guitar. I stood, distant enough but at his sight to take a picture. He glanced at me, smiled, looked away, and kept playing.

There was another picnic table where a family was celebrating a birthday. There was an old couple, a young couple, a little boy, and a puppy. There were food and balloons on the table. I can’t remember if there was a cake or not. I asked the young couple if I could take pictures of them, they didn’t mind. They participated in different poses and allowed me to direct them as well. There was a photograph I liked where they held the puppy and the boy was sitting on the ground. Later I asked them to hold the kid as well and took another picture.

There were people by the lake fishing, to fish in Michigan you need to get a fishing license. It’s fairly easy to get. What surprised me was, some people were fishing, and just after they had caught a fish, they would set them free. Back to the lake you go! I asked John, why would they do that? ‘Well, I guess just for fun!’ He replied. To this day, I don’t understand the idea of fishing to set the fish free! You either fish to eat or you don’t, or that’s what I thought things were done in this world! I don’t know if we are injuring the fish by doing this practice, to their mouth specifically? Any psychological trauma, perhaps? Leaving the fish with PTSD? So I googled ‘do fish have memories’ and it looks like their memories work just like mine. Thirty seconds it lasts and poof!

Among the people who were fishing for fun, there was a nice couple that invited me to try fishing with them. The lady who was wearing sunglasses bigger than her face and had a sparkling smile was too excited to teach me fishing since I never fished before. The first fish I caught escaped. Good for him. The couple then let me reel in the fish the guy had caught, which then got caught in the mud. I then picked it up to set it free. The nice lady told me to be careful as they have sharp fin.

Fish are very slippery. It’s a weird feeling when you hold them. It’s not as satisfying as holding my golden cat. It reminded me of the time when I held a snake while doing a project on 'people and their pets'. I got invited to a house of a guy named Nafim. He had a cat but he also had a snake. He told me stories of another snake he had which got so affectionate of him that even if his mother were to enter his room the snake would start rattling. So they had to get rid of it. The one that I got to hold was trying to crush my hand. It was cold, just like the little fish I was holding by the lake. But there was a difference between this fish and the snake. The snake wasn’t afraid of me.

There was a swan swimming freely on the lake. In the distance, was another swan with chicks. I thought the one with the chicks was the mother and the other swan must be the dad.

We took the stairs by the back of the building and walked a little more. We stopped by a bench by the lake. We sat on the bench while the sun was preparing to set. There was a nice breeze and we could hear the vibration of the music coming from the building we just left. The view was nice and the swans were more visible. It was about twilight and I liked everything about it. The wind, the lake, the swans, and the hum of the music in distance. However, a noisy drone was interrupting the peace of the swan over and over again! I think I zoned out there, by the lake while sitting on that bench. Because that's where I wished the story ended. Sunset, water, and music were three of my favorite things. I was traveling back to Dhaka, to Cox’s Bazar, to all the places I have ever been before, consisting of sunset, water, and music. I only have good memories when there is sunset, water, and music.

I told you before; it was a simple story of Newburgh Lake. You can call it a journal. Nothing special happened. Of course, the sun sets to rise the next morning. And the water, the music doesn't stay either. It leaves to come back. And we go home to our ‘work to pay bills to eat to work’ lives. So we stood up and prepared to head home, just like anyone else visiting anywhere else always does.

We took a few more pictures by the lake and on our way out we met the couple that taught me how to fish again. There were several ducks there too. To my surprise, the couple had food for the ducks. I thought to myself, next time when I visit the lake, I shall bring food for ducks too.

I drove back home where John’s car was parked. He asked me if I believed in psychic phenomena. He told me stories about 9/11 and other psychic phenomena he had encountered. I told him if he ever encounters any psychic phenomena about me, to let me know. I asked him if he wanted to see our backyard where I have seen deer many times before. He agreed so I took him there. There was no deer. In the future, do we get to see any deer there? We shall only know, if we go there, again.