On biking to work.

Tomorrow I'm riding my bike to work.

It's nothing compared to the Falling Water Trail, of course, but shit, why not? It's supposed to be pretty nice out tomorrow, and I'm dressing down at work for a project.

My route is barely 3 miles long, and most of it is downhill (it's uphill on the way home). And it shaves about .7 miles off my usual driving route. According to Google Maps new "walking" time option, if I hoofed it on foot it would take about an hour. A bike? Hard telling. But my guess is about 15-20 minutes - just a tad longer than driving.

My car doesn't suck down that much gas driving to and from work, but every little bit helps, right? And why sit inside any structure during the summer when Michigan winters are long and life-threatening? There's sunshine, there's fresh air, there's exercise - its waiting to be enjoyed.

Plus my new bike hasn't gotten the workout I had hoped. It took me down the Rose Parade route, and down the Falling Water Trail a few times, but that's about it. The machine needs to work to be an efficient work-saver. So I'm putting it to work.

American bridges are falling down, falling down...

After the Minneapolis bridge collapse, our local paper ran an in-depth investigative piece about local bridges that were in need of repair. Most of the bridges in Jackson County, in fact, were found in crumbling condition.

A few days later, some yahoo wrote in condemning the paper, saying the information provided gave aid to terrorists. Supposedly, bin Laden is reading the Jackson Citizen Patriot for ideas on where to strike next.

"Gosh," I thought, "why fear terrorists when government negligence is doing a fine job of killing Americans?"

So I did what any proud, patriotic American would do: I wrote the above thoughts in a letter to the editor.

But locally it would fall on deaf ears. Here in Jackson County, founding place of Mr. Bush's party, public ownership and maintenance of infrastructure is an afterthought - especially where budgets are concerned.

You see, there are some in this country that feel businesses would do a better job of running and maintaining our roads, subways, and bridges. The government is doing a terrible job of keeping up repairs, so why not let the free market try things for a while?

When you have people running the government who harbor disdain for government in the first place, however, it's no wonder bridges are falling down. The order of the day is "privatize everything," (you know, like those honest folks at Enron did in California) because we all know greed makes the world go round. If you don't trust the government, and you're in government, you can really do some damage.

I almost think it's a sinister plan by free market capitalists and some Republican lawmakers: let the country fall apart, and offer business as the solution.

But really, the whole thing could be fixed by (a) a person who knows how to manage a government, (b) a proper budget not made anorexic by tax cuts, or (c) an FDR-style "new New Deal" plan to fix things up.

Think about it. The country's infrastructure went throught the greatest period of growth after the Roosevelts had a vision of parks, highways (Eisenhower helped with that one), bridges, and dams built by Americans to help Americans. The public paid for it because it benefitted everyone. And what a beautiful country we had.

Infrastructure like our radio waves and subway tunnels actually belong to the people, and the government leases the right to use them to companies. Some want companies to own them outright, however, because there's tons of money to be made in fees and tolls.

I can see the idea: competition spurs the best ideas and healthy competition, and everything ends up improving.

But that's not always the case.

I like the idea of the people owning the things we use better. All that's required is a healthy dose of patriotism and some concern for your fellow citizens to take care of the parks, roads, and rails. Put people in government who actually know how to run the government, and not fools who want to dismantle the public infrastructure.

In my book, if you let these systems go to waste, you're a traitor to the country.

My friends Josh and PJ have a pretty conservative uncle, Uncle Robert, who used to tell me that government should be responsible for a few things: delivering the mail, maintaining the roads, and keeping the country safe from harm.

So what happens when the only get one out of those three?

Meet you in Michigan.

The above billboard helped me meet some fantastic folks from Vermont this weekend.

The model in the picture, holding the car keys, is Kayla - a 17-year-old sweetheart who has developed quite the portfolio.

The photographer, Christine, saw my billboard on iStockphoto and told Kayla. Kayla flipped. She couldn't believe she was posted that big, on a major highway (US 127) on a billboard. Christine e-mailed me to tell me the news. And then she decided to grab Kayla, pack up a car, and head to Michigan on a road trip. Just to see my billboard.

Talk about a compliment.

After stopping at Niagra Falls and Cedar Point on the way, Christine and Kayla met me at the credit union, and then we headed to lunch.



I decided on the Parlor, since nothing says "Jackson" like the Dare to Be Great (which Kayla actually thought of ordering). We traded stories about each other's states and regions, and compared Apple Mac notes, and shared our iStockphoto experiences.



After ice cream (which none of us could finish), I took them on a tour of Jackson. They wanted to see the prison, plus a quick trip through Cascades and Ella Sharp Park.

It was a pretty cool deal, to meet one of the models that stars in my graphic design work. When you purchase stock photography, you never know the person's story. Now I do, both from the model and the photographer.

Christine and Kayla left for Vermont after we got back to the credit union, hoping to make it to at least Buffalo, NY by last night, and then on home today.

I sent them home with baggies full of American 1 swag, and hopefully a decent-enough sense of Michigan (since they've never been here before).

Nice to meet you, Christine and Kayla!

Homecoming for the 1461st.

Jackson is glad to welcome back the 1461st National Guard unit, after the troops spent a year in Iraq.

Fire trucks, police escort, and a biker lead-off that was mighty impressive.

The Transportation Company came back in style - Jackson residents lined up from West Ave. to Michigan Ave. and down North Jackson to the county fairgrounds for a 2 p.m. homecoming.

Whether or not you support the war, you can't help but feel grateful for their return - and you can't escape the sense that these were the lucky ones.

Jackson being what it is - the birthplace of the Republican Party and all - I'm sure there were many war supporters in the crowd. But nationalism be damned, you can't help but feel patriotic when you see a bus load of kids my age returning from a war that doesn't have to drag on this long.

It hasn't been since World War II that we've defended any kind of freedom: never since has America been in any real danger, besides the Cold War. And so it doesn't make a lot of sense to me why we should send National Guard troops to a mismanaged war zone. To die.

But a protest had no place at today's parade.

At work, we took American flags and handed them out to families and spectator's along the parade's route, and we were welcomed the whole way.

Head here for more pictures.

Welcome back, troops.

Jackson's 30 under 30.

Just a quick congrats to my buddy Suzanne McCloskey, who was named one of the "30 under 30" in this month's Jackson Magazine.

I think the magazine doesn't like me much, after working there and then...mysteriously...not working there. But whatever.

A big fat congrats to Suzie-Q.

Fear and tanning in Jackson County

"Spring won't come / the need of strife to struggle to be freed / from hard ground." - Type O Negative, 'Green Man'

---

My profile picture was taken a whole year ago - that magical age of 25, with Guster and Mates of State and Suzanne and I at the bar. It seems like a world away, and in a lot of ways it is. A lot's changed.


* * *


If spring won't come, then I'll leave. I took a look at my agenda for the Orlando conference and things will be...easy going, to say the least. I fly in Wednesday evening, with nothing to do but swim and drink and lounge and enjoy. Friday, I get the whole afternoon to explore one of the Disney parks. And on Saturday, when the rest of the card service officials are golfing, I'll be doing...something else.


* * *


I'm going to do battle with Detroit again tonight. We'll call it the rubber match, because last time Harpo's got the best of me. A slashed tire, a scary drive home, all after the great KMFDM show Don and I saw. Now we return to see Type O Negative.

And to think the guys from Type O pick Harpo's as their favorite place on Earth to play. Maybe they've never driven there. Maybe they don't have to worry about parking.


* * *


The show tonight wraps up birthday week 2007. It's been decent. Last Saturday felt more like my birthday than yesterday did, but it was nice to have the extra day off. And I've eaten pretty well over the past few days, thanks to good friends.


* * *


Thursday's blog started quite the discussion (see the comments section if you have any doubt), but I think it was the last comment that summed it up for me. How would my friends have felt if I had deleted a comment I didn't like, before it had a chance to be read?

It's too bad when people have to experience something before they identify with it. I always think of Dick Cheney in cases like this. The president is all for outlawing gay marriages, probably because he doesn't know anyone who's gay.

The VP doesn't hold the same epistemological outlook at Bush, lacking the born-again label, but he doesn't stray into outlawing rights because he has a gay daughter. So why does it take having a gay daughter to identify with people who don't sleep with the opposite sex?

Locally, I have a feeling we'd all be pretty angry if one of our transgendered relatives were treated like Julie was treated. Or we'd really be angry, at Adrian, if our beloved College World was ever stolen from the bins.

Maybe I lack a definite prism through which I see the world. But I like it this way. Makes me sound less dogmatic and self-righteous in arguments.


* * *


My good friend Josh came to see me at work the other day. We used to be the best of friends, and now our jobs and lives take us away from each other.

But he still makes it a point to stop in and see me when he's working out at the YMCA or testifying against some law-breaker at court.

I'll never forget when I first started working at American 1, Josh came in and asked for Dave, the president of the Gay Club of Jackson (or something like that). He freaked our receptionist out, and gave me a good story to tell. He knows how to embarrass people, a skill I think we've shared and perfected through the years.

He thought it would've been funny, on my first day, to wheel me in Hannibal Lecter-style - with the mask and straps and gurney.



* * *


Today I went tanning for the first time.

I was nervous about the whole thing (nude? lotion? do I cover "it" up?), but the friendly lady at Bronze Villa was really helpful about the situation.

Tanning comes pretty easily for me, thankfully, but I tend to burn the first time I greet the sun. I figured that before I head to Florida I should build up a base or something.

There's something about lying naked in a bed of glowing tubes that frees the spirit. I'm not really any darker (I only made it to level 1, with its UVB rays, today), but I am wiser.



Twenty-six years wiser, to be exact.

Stop the presses: here comes Jesus

If you live in Jackson, or even if you don't, you might think of it as a pretty conservative place. Birthplace of the Republican Party. Voted for Bush by a great majority in the past two elections. And now home to a paternalistic "university" that seeks to steal the speech and behavior rights of all who step foot on campus.

The latest evidence? Spring Arbor University recently seized every issue of the student newspaper because it printed a story about a cross-dressing professor the school didn't agree with.

The cross-dressing professor thing (Julie Nemecek used to be "John," but was fired from SAU after seeking transgender therapy - it's been big news around here) was bad enough. Now Spring Arbor University wants to prepare students for "learning and critical participation in the contemporary world" by seizing the student-run newspaper.

What, really, would Jesus do?

The school swiped all 500 copies of the newspaper, "The Crusader," from school grounds, offering to give it back only if the student editors cut the Nemecek story out. The school's reasoning? The story was innacurate (and they haven't even said why).

It's one thing to respond to a newspaper article with a letter to the editor, or a request for a correction. That would be the sensible thing to do. But to seize every issue with a ransom attached is deplorable, and unfit action in a democracy. The university has every right to add its thoughts to the paper's marketplace of ideas. Instead, it plays the part of the bully dictator.

SAU has had an image problem lately, and it responds by censoring the news it helped create. The school has raised all sorts of issues just with the Julie Nemecek issue: does a Christian-based workplace show compassion by firing a professor who needs help? Is it legal? Is it right? Is it even nice?

This latest example shows the university's backward ways - after all, how can a place of learning prepare students for the real world when its constantly acting like a paternal overseer? Is this the "contemporary world" SAU wants to represent?

I remember applying for a job at Spring Arbor - something like a PR assistant or something. I couldn't believe the requirements the school asked of students and employees: no drinking, no smoking, no pre-marital sex, or else. It was unbelievable. Slip up, and you're gone.

We're done with the Dark Ages, right?

SAU's actions show students what it's like to live in communist Russia, or fundamentalist Iran, not the United States. Here, we follow the words of Thomas Jefferson by respecting newspapers more than any governing body.

The lesson: if you're different, or even have a different opinion, than SAU, you're not welcome.

The Pharisees would be proud.

Last one to leave Jackson, turn out the lights

Ask anyone what they've heard about Jackson, MI, and the answer is the same.

The prison. The largest in the U.S. That's what we're known for.

Soa big surprise came this morning when we all learned that the prison is closing.

Almost 500 jobs lost. Poof. Just like that.

And it's not the only bad news to hit Jackson in the past year or so. Plant after plant, company after company, shutting its doors and hundreds of people left out in the cold.

Welcome to the Rust Belt, folks. Hope you like service jobs.

There used to be a time when Jackson was a bustling place, a kind of mini-Detroit as far as auto manufacturing went. Because we were nestled along the old Sauk Trail, where now sits the main highway between Motown and Chicago, I-94, we were in a prime spot to make all the parts that helped to make vehicles.

Starting in the '80s, however, with the closing of the big Goodyear plant (one of the founding companies of the place I work), the manufacturing base of the community has steadily declined. Today, our biggest employer is Foote Hospital.

The second used to be the prison.

My grandma keeps telling me that Jackson has been a dying town since the Progress Place movement ruined the downtown, and she may be right. While the downtown has seen a bit of a pickup, the constant closings of major industries is crippling growth. Where do we go from here?

Of course the prison closing is a symptom of the state's budget fiasco, which could be a symptom of the loss of manufacturing jobs, and so on, on down the line of blame. And we're certainly not the only community to face such woes; Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Illinois towns have been showing signs of wear for years.

I've always felt there's nothing spectacular about Jackson - nothing that I could say "that's what keeps me here" - but it's a nice place to live, and I've called it home all my life. My family is here, a lot of my friends are here, and I've found a good job that I enjoy doing. Plus Jackson is close enough to other fun spots, like Ann Arbor, Detroit, Windsor, Kalamazoo, and even Chicago.

But Jackson, and Michigan as a whole, may be going the way of the dinosaur if this kind of job-loss continues. Who wants the only major employer in town to be a hospital? Or Meijer? Or a utility?

If anything, it'll be folks like me, and Suzanne, and Cassandra - if we do stick around - who will have to turn this place into somewhere worth living. Usually kids graduate high school and never look back (which makes me question my own wisdom, now that I think about it). That has to change.

As does Jackson's willingness to change, because it's some of the older folks around here, the ones who high-tail it to Florida every year, who are the most resistant.

So here's to Jackson: home of the coney, the place that almost got the University of Michigan, the Cascades, MIS, a still-functioning train station, and a serious jobs-and-optimism problem.

Fear and voting in Jackson County.

It's crunch time: a week and a half until election day.

And what a weird one it's going to be.

Suzanne invited me to a political shin-dig, put on by the Jackson Area Chamber of Commerce, at Bella Notte last night. I felt nervous about going - all the big-wigs would be there - but then I remembered I have at least three fellow Rotarians who are running for county commissioner spots (including one running for the spot I thought about). I would definitely have folks to talk about.

When we showed up, it had the air of a convention. There were poles with plastic signs on top, each with a candidates name, and under the pole and sign stood the candidate, shaking hands, wearing buttons, pressing the flesh.

Tons of people there, most buying booze, more snacking on meatballs and cheese with crackers. "Jesus," I thought, "what a metaphor." These pols were getting soused, and it was the least I could do to talk to them while they're at their most vulnerable.

You could tell who were the popular candidates in the room, judging from the crowd surrounding them, and they were all Republicans. Lots of white people, but I smiled when I saw one of my Rotarians say he was voting "yes" on Proposal 2 (the anti-affirmative action one) to the African American lady he was shaking hands with. To say he was embarrassed is an understatement. But he was brave.

The news all over town (and the country) is that the Democrats are going to sweep the House and Senate in an orgy of voter dissatisfaction and scandal, even though they don't have a unifying plan to get the country Back on Track.

Locally, however, there were no such feelings - at least at this event. These folks knew who they were voting for, and it wasn't for anyone with a "D" next to their name. This was Jackson, the birthplace of the Republican party, friend to Ronald Reagan, and example of white-bread America.

The rookies in the process were easy to spot. They stood alone, maybe with their wife, just waiting for someone to come up, shake their hand, and start a superficial conversation. The pros were ready, beer in-hand, working over the crowd like a Naval tattoo parlor on a Saturday night.

Me? I was there for the free grub, for the Rotary support, and to see some of these yahoos up close and personal. Dick DeVos, candidate for governor, showed up for a spell, but I wasn't interested in him. It was his daughter I was on the lookout for. I figured if Dicky-boy wanted my vote, he's set me up on a date with his blonde, gorgeous progeny (who maybe looks a little too much like her dad for comfort - but think of the cathartic glee of dating some Nazi's daughter out of spite).

I've really been in a sour mood, ever since the 2004 election, and I've been waiting to pounce on any politician who's idea of running the country is to idolize the Current Occupant.

But in this room, on this night, the numbers were against me. Except for the poor bastard representing Governor Granholm, and maybe the white farmer from Oregon who benefitted from affirmative action, I was the only one in a "kick the bums out" mood. Everyone else smelled like status quo.

Ah, but what can I do? I'm only one vote.

I just hope there are more people out there who are as angry as I am.

The dying squawk of the Thunderbird

[If you haven't heard that the Thunderbird Coffee House is closing, read about it here.]

Its sad, whats happening to Jon Hart and his Thunderbird Coffee House. Unfortunately, I think its a sign of the times.

In an age where less than half of Americans vote in a national election, people seem to prefer voting with their dollars. They vote for giant Ultra-Marts and Starbucks, chain stores you can find in increasingly every town in America. How can local businesses compete?

What bothers me is that a smart, resourceful business owner like Hart a man who cares about Jackson and provides a venue for the youth of the city to get together and have fun is forced to close his doors. While the Citizen Patriot's story was short on details, I get the impression that business owners who try to survive downtown are having a rough time of it, especially considering all the recent closings. And that just shouldnt be.

So I guess Ill vote with my money, too.

For instance, you wont catch me in a Starbucks. They dont need my money, not when local businesses are hurting. It's a philosophy of mine to support the locals first, and worry about price, convenience, etc. second. On my Route trip, it was a great pleasure to actually see America, not visit the franchise version.

But Im afraid someday Ill have no choice a time when the whole country is shopping at Wal-Mart, drinking coffee from Starbucks, and eating dinner under the Golden Arches. We may become like Soviet Russia, where citizens had few choices when shopping for their needs.

Welcome to the U.S.S.A.

Just like riding a bike

"With my belly full I intended to get something done." - The Tragically Hip, 'The Bear'

- - - - -


It was right about the time a giant mutant woodchuck went scrambling through the brush that I thought, "Jesus, maybe I'm in over my head."

My iPod shuffled through weirdly pastoral songs - "In Dreams" by Roy Orbison, "The Bear" by the Tragically Hip, "Once Upon a Time" by Smashing Pumpkins - and had long ago abandoned any sort of rational playlist for a sort of jived-up LSD trip through the backwoods of mid-Michigan.

I was riding like a werewolf down the Falling Water Trail, a semi-complete bike and walking path that goes west from Jackson to Concord. Only days before I had broken out the bike, filled the tire with air at the local gas station, and re-learned how to ride the damn thing on a sweaty Saturday.

It's been years since I've ridden my bike. Since at least junior year at AC, it had been sitting in the ATO basement, neglected and moldy, until I rescued it and took it in to the local bike shop for repairs after this year's graduation. I abandoned the beast when it blew a tire on my way to get popcorn at the Adrian Wesco the summer I lived on campus. I never thought about it after that, especially when I inherited "Das Boot": my grandpa's tank of a Mercury Grand Marquis. It was my only real transportation that summer of excess after sophomore year. It was a shame to put it down so harshly.

But since I've moved to Alpine Lake, I've caught the bike-riding bug. I take walks at Cascades Park and envy the bastard bikers speeding by.

It used to be that, as a kid, a bike circumnavigated your entire known world. Remember that? Remember when the bounderies of reality were bordered by how far you could pedal? Training wheels to look-Ma-no-hands, your freedom depended on how well you could handle your wheels and chain.

I remember going from the corner of 23rd and Michigan Ave, back in junior high, to downtown Jackson every week to stop into Nostalgia Ink for the latest comics. It had to have been a two- or three-mile trek, but I looked forward to that weekly ride. I'd stop and grab a Slushee at the now-closed drug store downtown, whiz by the monstrous mansions down West Washington, and throw the bike in the front yard (kick stand be damned!) to read the latest adventures of the Amazing Spider-Man.

That was my whole world in sixth and seventh grade.

Now I've traveled to the West Coast and back by myself, and I head to Detroit at least once or twice a month, in a car. But still, nothing compares to the freedom you felt as a kid when you kicked that kickstand and pedalled off, chores undone.

Not that I want to recreate that feeling now, but I fixed my bike to get some exercise, enjoy the summer air, and explore my neighborhood. Saturday, after I filled the front tire with air, it took a little getting used to, but - as they say - it was just like riding a you-know-what. I traveled around the apartment parking lot at first to get my bearings and to see if the tire would hold air. It did, so I went a little farther, into Ella Sharp Park next door, and tried the trails that criss-cross the park. The bike was fine. So I hit the Falling Water Trail to West Ave., pedalled up to the gas station, grabbed a Gatorade, and went a few more miles through Cascades and on back home. This is what I missed.

Today, after dinner, I hit the Falling Water again, just to see how far I could go. I went through the paved section, passing walkers, bunnies and rasberry bushes, onto the unpaved section. No skid-outs, no crashes (although a minor freak-out when I saw something brown with legs around my right ear), no problems at all until I hit a sand patch near a construction site. I slid, stopped, and decided that was as far as I was willing to go.

By now I had worked up a good sweat. I turned around and went back to West Ave, up the hill where all the beautiful Republican houses are, and took Fourth Street home. A beautiful day, and a wonderful ride.

Just like when I was a kid, I'm exploring places you just can't get to in a car. I'm even thinking about riding to work on Fridays, our dress-down days, just to see a different neighborhood each time I go.

When I'm alone, I find myself exploring.

But I'll really feel like an 11-year-old Dave when I can stand on the cross bar flying down a hill.

Who's with me?

Route 66: back in familiar territory

There's nothing like going away on an adventure, but then there's nothing quite like returning home, either.

Pulled back into Michigan about 2:00 this afternoon, much earlier than I had expected. I drove like hell through Nebraska and Iowa yesterday and last night, pulling off at a rest stop near Iowa City about midnight. Got up at about 7:00 and hit the road for the final stretch.

Got to grandma's just in time, too - she had made taco salad for lunch. She didn't think I'd make it back until late tonight or tomorrow (Monday) morning. Pssh. Showed her.

It feels good to be home. And it's interesting that it's 90 degrees here, because it's what I've felt since at least Wednesday.

Lots of unpacking to do, and organizing, and all that good stuff. Got my Arizona pictures developed (though the idiots didn't make the CD I asked for) - and am sharing a few extras here.





[This is at the "Cadillac Ranch" outside Amarillo, TX, where there are 10 Cadillacs buried in a field, and you can go up to them and spray paint them. I wanted to do something dramatic, so I stuck with white and black paint and painted my sort-of motto during this whole trip. Turned out nice, and the Brit bloke Rich helped me out a lot.]



I've never driven through winds like I did in Nebraska. I've never seen such beautiful mountains as I did through Colorado. And I've never seen a more breathtaking state than Utah. And those weren't even on the official "Route 66" trip - they were just extras I passed through along the way home.

Quite an experience. It hasn't sunk in yet, really - where I've gone, what I've seen, what I've been through.

When I landed in Jackson about 3:30 it really felt like I hadn't left at all, for some strange reason. Maybe because I was back in familiar territory. Who knows? But thinking to myself "I just drove home from California" seems unreal.

Did it happen?





You betcha it did.

It's good to be home.

Yes Virginia, there is a coney dog

After calling in an order for lunch today, I found that I have become a regular.

You know - one of those folks who goes to the same spot and the same time and orders the same thing. That's me.

I use my Fridays as a sort of "me day." I grab a red-eye coffee on the way in to work, I treat myself to lunch out (as opposed to my regularly packed sandwhich-and-chips), and I take a nap when I get home from work. Pretty regular.

This week, however, it all came in to sharp focus. I made the call to the Virginia Coney Island across the street, my regular spot, and the woman on the other end knew (a) who I was, (b) what I wanted, and (c) when I would make it across the street. She was good.

Before I ate my first lunch at the Virginia I was warned that the clientele was "shady" and the atmosphere was "too blue collar." In other words, it was a real live local restaurant, full of working people who loved crinkle fries as much as I did. You can't beat the prices ($5 for my lunch, usually) and you can't beat the view of Michigan Ave. out the steamed-up windows.

There's an obsession with local, Jackson-made coneys. We make them different than any other place in America, and are nationally known for our dynamic coney dogs. Supposedly, the "coney stuff" we put on top of our coneys - a dry mix, as opposed to the wet, sloppy-joe style coney mix - is unique to Jackson. Damn tasty, too. As a result, a local fascination with the weiners has sprung up, and given Jackson a sense of local gustational pride.

I love the coneys at the Virginia. And the cute waitress - the one who answers the phone - doesn't hurt either. To achieve true "regular-hood" however, I'll have to learn her name.

When I first started going, the waitress yelled at me because I dumped my ketchup on napkins. Now she gives me a bowl, a ketchup depository, for my condiments. Today she even had a Diet Coke waiting for me at my usual spot. They know me there. And that's a good feeling.

Sometimes a person's "regular-hood" can be unwelcome. If you're a regular at the local jail or brothel, a co-worker pointed out, it can be a bad thing.

But being a regular at the Virginia is a good thing, no bones about it.

Who's up for crinkle fries?

Elect Dave for County Commissioner?

So the process has begun. I've thought about - and been approached about - making a run for Jackson county commissioner.

I met Saturday with Judy Dupuis, a former city council member and local Democrat leader, as well as Travis Fojtasek, the president of Recycling Jackson and many other organizations around Jackson. It was just a lunch discussion - I had mentioned to Travis that someday I'd like to get involved in politics, and he was nice enough to set up a meeting.

Democrats in Michigan are working very hard to elect local Dems to county and city positions. Jackson is a Republican stronghold (the city touts itself as the "birthplace" of the party) and local elections are almost always gauranteed to go to a GOP candidate.

Maybe not for much longer, however.

I came into the lunch meeting pretty green. I don't know that much about county politics, I'm not familiar with the who's-who among Jackson politicos, and I was really anxious about how much time being a county commissioner would take up. I like my "me" time, and I'm pretty selfish about giving any of it up.

The election, it seems, would take up most of my time. After that, Travis said, I could give as much time as I wanted to the commissioner's spot.

If you know me, you know I like campaigning. I get a big kick out of meeting new people, advertising my goals, having some fun with posters and printed materials, and just getting out there and shaking hands. That's what I'm good at, and it's what I enjoy.

But there's the "after the election" part, and that's what I'll be learning more about in the weeks to come. Meeting current commissioners, attending a county meeting, introducing myself to the local Dems. There's much to be done.

At one point, Judy asked me, "So, you have some people for your team in mind, don't you?"

Uh...sure, Judy. I've been on top of that all along. Or not.

I've certainly got a lot of thinking to do. After I meet with folks, and attend some meetings, and get a better feeling of the situation, I'll be making a decision about whether to run or not.

A big question: am I needed? Too many politicians get involved in government because they have an agenda or a certain slant on things that they want to bring to the table. I feel that there should be some need that I could fill before I would run. I need to be asked. Judy said my youth and enthusiasm could be a big help, and so I felt a little better about running.

This is big-time stuff here, folks. Sometimes I think my whole life has led up to something like this. What on Earth am I more passionate about that politics? Not much. This could open a lot of doors. Or it could be a big waste of time.

Who knows for sure?


...and hey, if you have a great slogan idea, be sure to pass it my way. Campaigning is the fun part, and I'd love to get friends involved (if they're interested). I've already had a friend or two say, "Should you run, I want to help."

Well, the chance may be coming soon.

Should I do it? Stay posted.

The Creative Class returns

The creatives are abandoning our cities.

And who can blame them? In small cities like Jackson, what is there to keep the up-and-coming creative professional from leaving? It's not like there are an abundant number of - to put it bluntly - things to do in town for young people.

In author and economist Richard Florida's ("Rise of the Creative Class") new book, “The Flight of the Creative Class: The New Global Competition for Talent," the case is made that the "flight" of creative professionals from American cities to other countries leaves the country with an economic disadvantage.

"The United States of America is on the verge of losing its competitive advantage,” Florida wrote last fall in a Harvard Business Review article based on his new book. “It is facing perhaps its greatest economic challenge since the dawn of the industrial revolution...Terrorism is less a threat to the U.S. than the possibility that creative and talented people will stop wanting to live within its borders.”

But Florida's foreshadowing of America's creative blight doesn't have to be a global warning - we face a similar problem in beautiful downtown Jackson, Mich.

For too long creative, unique high school graduates have left for college only to never return. Ann Arbor isn't that far away, after all, and there's much more the home of the University of Michigan can offer than the home of the "United States' largest walled prison."

But more and more, Jackson is finding itself as an ideal location for hip goings-on in and around the downtown area.

Consider a Jackson Renaissance.

The city has done much to attract, or at least retain, the creative professionals (such as engineers, designers, entertainers, artists, scientists). Governor Jennifer Granholm even awarded Jackson the "Cool Cities" designation, meaning the city would receive grants and funding - as well as nifty signs posted around town - to make it a hip place to be.

The crown jewel is the Armory Arts Project, a renovation and restructuring of the old Michigan National Guard armory center near the old prison walls to turn it into a creative haven and living center for artists.

But venues like the Riverwalk Amphitheatre concerts, Cruise Nights, the Thunderbird Coffee House, downtown bars like The Office and The Crazy Cowboy, and involved organizations like the Arts and Cultural Alliance are making Jackson a creative place to live. And play.

Jackson needs to keep its creative professionals. Since "creatives" - according to Florida - make up about 30 percent of America's work force, Jackson stands to lose a large number of its talented workers if it doesn't provide an interactive, quality-of-life-focused place to live. The factories are leaving, down-sizing, or rusting away where they stand. Manufacturing is on the way out. The service sector will always be there, but new, exciting ideas and economic development have rarely sprung from a fast-food check-out line.

Sadly, barriers still exist - one in particular. Florida's "three Ts" of creative development - talent, technology, and tolerance - make Jackson's mostly conservative population a tough crowd to convince. There are those in town who think that "hippies" need to look elsewhere for their creative kicks, or those who still hold racial, sexual, or gender prejudices that put a damper on any tolerance progress the Rose City could make.

No, Jackson has much potential, and it will take those who are hard-wired to solve complex problems and offer innovative solutions to realize all this city has to offer. It will also take those of a more open mind-set to strip the intolerant of power and influence to really get things done.

Part of all of this is personal. I want to live in a fun place, with things to do, and events and happenings that stimulate my brain. We have two malls. We have a decent concert venue at Jackson Community College. But we're just now starting to entertain and develop creative and signature events, organizations, and artistic outlets that make Jackson...Jackson.

More needs to be done, and there is a certain crop of young professionals who are realizing that, instead of leaving, we can stay and make Jackson a better place to live.

I don't plan on going anywhere anytime soon. I want to see what Jackson's creatives have to offer.

But also, I want to see what Jackson has to offer us creatives.