18 Uncles: A Few Weeks In

A quick progress report—the juice has already been worth the squeeze

Over two months since the launch and seven-ish weeks in America, I could easily fill three pages with cliches about how time flies because, dang, does it ever. I feel like I go to bed on Sunday night and wake up to another Saturday morning, frantically trying to get all the pieces ready for a new post.

But in seven quick weeks home, I can say two things for certain: I’m right where I’m supposed to be, and the journey has already been worth it. 

Fully immersing in the Keweenaw, exploring the beaches, forests, and dive bars, and even attending church services is exactly the kind of untouched natural beauty and rural American reboot I needed. 

But the amount of family time has been the biggest reward. 

Whether it’s sitting with sandy toes in a circle on a beach we’ve been going to since I was born, leaning back in a camping chair around a fire, watching dozens of cousins run around Fort Wilkins State Park as the setting sun shoots through the trees, or cracking Aunt Jane up in her high-ceilinged sitting room, our elegant couches across the room from one another, creating a literal gulf between us that could slide too easily into some sort of metaphor, I keep having the thought, “this is what I came back for.”  

I was gone for so many years and now feel like I’m making up for lost time.

I got to hang with Uncle Jeff in his boat upholstery shop and watch as the former linebacker and All-American hockey goalie quickly took a huge roll of fabric, and with professional economy of movement and grace, measured, cut, and sewed it into what would become a cover for a pontoon—while listening to my favorite country station on the radio.

I took the Quincy Mine Tour with my mother and little cousin Carver, and we learned that the mine has 93 levels, reaching close to two miles into the earth. They showed us a map and held a to-scale model of the Eiffel Tower to indicate how vast the city-sized network of tunnels is that’s been below our feet for generations but had gone unnoticed by me in my lifetime.

My Uncle Jamey invited me for a sauna—something I could have only dreamt about three months ago. And I’ve been fortunate enough to take a steam with Uncles Corey, Jeff, and Rodney, as well as a multitude of cousins. Of course, they were “sauna-swim” sessions and we jumped into the cool water of the lake for that yin-and-yang, hot-and-cold, dang-that-feels-good balance. 

Uncle Peachy and Aunt Deb filled me in on 1970s social life in Laurium, Michigan as we sipped coffee and looked at old pictures. They also told me the rationale behind having a double wedding with my Aunt Cheryl and Uncle Steve. My grandfather walked both daughters down the aisle and each couple took turns taking their vows. As far as rationale, Deb told me, “We were both gettin’ married in fall, so thought, why plan two?”

More than once, I went out to forage wild berries with my mother and Aunt Beth, kneeling in the low shrubs to tediously try and fill our buckets with tiny blueberries and minimal leaves, the highlight for me being when Beth stood up and noticed a line of blood draining from her knee. She gave an “ah shoot,” reached down, ripped a leafy piece of fern, wiped the blood, and kept on pickin’. 

“H*ll yeah, that’s my f*ckin’ Auntie,” I thought. 

On a beautiful summer Saturday, my Aunt Karmen and Uncle Ryan invited me onto their boat for a trip out to the beach in White City. It’s cool to see my uncles in the “boat captain” role my grandfather embodied so well. It’s in their genes, and Ryan gave me a quick knot lesson on how to properly connect two ropes. Unfortunately, that information went in one ear and out the other, but we did spend a sunny day on the beach, met other family members who’d boated out there, played games, and I got more quality time with cousins in one day than we’d had in our lifetimes.

As I’m looking at my notes, I could go on and on with beaches, saunas, chats around fires, and the church services I attended—more on that in the future. 

As far as quick uncle observations go, I’d say there’s quite a bit more gray hair than I remember, I find myself wanting to use verbs like “lumber” rather than “move,” and the uncles on my mother’s side talk about boats with more frequency and depth than freaking Navy engineers. 

But in general, the generosity from all angles has been amazing. 

I shouldn’t be surprised; they’re family. 

At the beginning of this whole thing, my mother got teary-eyed thinking about her brothers and sisters, saying, “Any one of them would take me in if I needed it, no question.” 

I can confidently say my paternal side is no different; they’re family.

Last fall in Prague, I was days away from committing to a two-year contract to teach in China. I’d accepted a position in a school near Shenzhen and spent hundreds of dollars moving through the visa process, needing to give a final answer and submit my paperwork before November to start in mid-January.  

But it wasn’t an easy decision. I’d walk along the cobblestones of the Vltava River or sit on a bench in the dreary autumn parks, staring at the dark leafless trees that twisted and reached into the always overcast Central European sky, the stone walls covered in lichens in the foreground, the famed “city of one-hundred spires” behind, and I’d think about what I truly wanted for my life. 

If I moved to southeast China and started teaching in January, there was no guarantee that I’d have the time off or finances for a summer trip to Upper Michigan--not to mention there were still tough COVID restrictions. At best, I could probably have made it home for the following Christmas, which would have added up to sixteen months away.

That didn’t feel right. 

The writer Jesse Ingler has an interesting way of breaking down time. Taking his perspective, I’d think, “My mother is sixty-three. That means we have twenty good summers left together if we’re lucky. Twenty summers where we can comfortably lay on the beach, walk in the forest, or pick berries, only twenty. Do I really want to miss any more of them for a job I’m not super excited about?”

I really wanted to live in and explore China—I still do, but teaching English to large groups had taken its toll, and that was the position. Also, I’d already been blogging for two years with decent success, making enough to pay the bills but not quite live.

In the end, my gut was telling me to “bet on myself,” meaning I didn’t need a contract and that if I put my attention, time, and focus into trying to make it as a writer, I’d figure it out somehow.

I emailed the recruiter, rejecting the offer, apologizing, and saying “For the foreseeable future, it is important that I’m closer to family…and I will spend the entire summer with them next year in Michigan.” 

That was way before this whole ‘18 Uncles’ project came to form. 

I had no idea that eight months later I’d be getting on a plane with all of my earthly possessions to work on a book project in the Keweenaw. 

I couldn’t have imagined I’d be here now doing this. 

But it feels right. 

And getting this amount of quality time in a few short weeks is teaching me just how important family is, and how lucky I am to have a family tree with more branches than a banyan.

I’m still not sure exactly where the project will go, how this is all supposed to be structured, and what the end piece will be, but I trust it’ll flow. 

And coming home has already been worth it.

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Mitch

Me and my brother Cole

Family gathering with cousins, Uncle Dave (left), Grandpa Peterson, and Uncle Wally

Annual Fort Wilkins State Park get-together