Mancy in the Middle

Mid-August.  It’s hard to believe summer is sliding into fall.

Before long, my game of “Mancy in the Middle” will end. 

I live in Mancy.  Mancy is not the correct name.  Mancelona is.  Mancelona was the daughter of the town’s founder, hence the name.  But many folks call it other names.  Man-ce-tucky is one.  Man-ce-tucky describes the “redneck Appalachian ways” of our small town.  One stop light.  Across road on one side, a military tank sits on the lawn.  If you happen to get a red light while heading north or south through the Mitten state, you might see a horse or two at the local Dairy Delight across and up the road from the tank, complete with cannon, next to the post office.  

The town fits us well.  In many ways.  We’re a town where the folks at the local hardware know your name.  Post Office also.  And the local Feed Store.  We’re not fancy.  We’re just Mancy.  You’ll find men with beards and work-stained hands.  They wear their hard work for all to see.  Lumbermen, farmers, ranchers, and roughnecks, etc.. 

Since April, I have been leaving our “40” each week to head north to assist with aging family.  My home town is a beautiful town…always many degrees cooler as I crest the hill at the foot of the bay.

It’s a resort town, on Lake Michigan – Little Traverse Bay.  The town swells each summer with what we refer to as “Fudgies”.  Fudgies are those who buy and consume “fudge” made by many confectioners in the area.  Memorial Day to Labor Day, the Fudgies invade.  Traffic swells – both vehicle/bike and foot.  It has always been this way, and always will be this way.  Cottage living, restaurants, art shows and events are geared for this summer season.  Well-groomed men with pastel shirts and khaki shorts are found in the “organic” section of the various stores.  Chatty starched-white tennis-skirted women and even chattier chic children are to be found.  Topics of tennis and organic this – organic that.  It’s a swirl of people and action and everyone seems to have one thing in common – they seem to adore their hand-held god (little g).  {The cell phone - aka computer -  in the palm of your hand}. 

Until Labor Day, the “Fudgies” blend in with the locals.  After that, life returns to normal.  This is what I grew up with, and it benefited me as I worked in beautiful places “on the water” like Little Harbor Club and Stafford’s Pier Restaurant, just to name a few.  Old money…new money.  But always money.  It’s an amazing place, this northland. 

Summer also finds me more mobile.  I find the truck heading south, sliding into my Old Order Amish community.  Earlier in the month, while sitting in the 3-hour Sunday church service reverently belting out German hymns of persecution (the Loblied in particular), I felt at home.  A “carry in” dinner followed, where each ‘fork full’ was truly heavenly.  But more importantly, the conversations during the dinner and the fellowship that followed filled my soul.  People were connected to each other, with the center of the conversation Godly.  No hand-held gods here.  Only the true God – the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.   

So…from Mancy an hour south to Amish, back to Mancy.  Then Mancy an hour north to my home town on Lake Michigan.  And then back to our secluded piece of land in Mancy.   And so it goes. 

As I walked through the woods this morning, scaring Pats into flight and picking blackberries, I felt the call of Autumn.  Today the woods were still, as our precious family vacationers left for home the evening before.  I can’t imagine a place I would rather be, than in the woods.  Soon, I will be more “in the middle” than not. 

Until then, have a wonderful end of summer.  And I’ll check in soon, Lord willing.

Sherry