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| *(hmm...must be west of the Kroger's at 1771 Michigan and west of the CVS at 1807 Michigan). Photo: The Ypsilanti Local, which apparently ran between Willow Run and the so-called "Secret Path Line." 1838: The Michigan Central Railroad, or MCRR, (still in use by Amtrak) reaches Ypsi from Detroit, with four locomotives, five passenger cars and ten freight cars.� It transported 29,000 passengers in 1838. 1847: Michigan' first telegraph line is completed along the MCRR between Detroit and Ypsi.�"The first messages sent were long and ranged from the price of wheat and putty to news of the Mexican War."* 1850: Ypsi's old wooden depot is razed and a new brick one built. 1860s: MCRR built many of its own freight cars in shops at Jackson, which was the city's first industrial enterprise. 1870: Jackson, MI leads the state in the number of passengers served, 72,482 in one year.� 1890: Michigan's first interurban, the Ypsilanti and Ann Arbor began operating.� Pulled by a steam engine, the cars went west on Packard Road to the Ann Arbor city limits 1910: Fire destroys the 2nd and 3rd story of the Ypsi depot.� It is rebuilt as a one-story building with a tower. 1926: Runaway eastbound train smashes candy store once standing at Sidetrack patio site. 1939: A westbound freight train derails and smashes into the Ypsi depot.� It is rebuilt, no longer with bay windows or tower. 1942: Willow Run bomber plant building finished. 1974: The Popular Furniture building on Ypsilanti's Michigan Avenue--a former carbarn and powerhouse [what's that?] for interurban lines--was razed.� During demolition, rails embedded in the floor were observed.� 1988: Conrail depot [where is that?] in Ypsilanti is sold to private interests.� It is restored with its former tower *This quote, and most of the historical info, summarized from the gargantuan timeline at michiganrailroads.com. UNANSWERED QUESTIONS: When was the Ypsilanti Local, running from Willow Run to the Secret Path Line, built? Ypsidixit was revolted to learn about the hideous toxins present in personal care products*, particularly shampoo. (Search other personal-care products here). Armed with this info, she purchased, at the advice of a helper at the People's Food Co-op, the all-natural, organic, cruelty-free, concentrated Giovanni shampoo pictured here. Ypsidixit was astounded by the result. The shampoo wrought a revolution in her hair. It used to be kind of dead and even almost gummy, coated no doubt with God knows what chemical filth. Now it is soft, and shimmery gold, and has a lot more body. Giovanni is almost $7 a bottle,** but so rich that less than a teaspooon's worth works up into lots of rich lather. Ypsidixit is delighted with this product and hopes to find more natural alternatives to chemical-y personal care products so as to reduce, even incrementally, her body burden. *which do not need FDA approval. *Odd that the Guardian uses "miles" and not "kilometers." To prep herself for Samhain, Ypsidixit read this creepy little collection of nonfiction stories about contemporary allegedly haunted sites. The book implants several persistent if not wholly welcome images in the reader's mind: fingers wiggling under a door, faces on a wall, and giant hoofprints in wet cement. A United Methodist minister, Hunter reports these strange incidents matter-of-factly and cites his interest in the subject as due to a childhood spent in a haunted house. No Ypsi hauntings are mentioned (Belleville's the closest one), though Ypsidixit has heard her share of stories about haunted buildings and sites in Ypsilanti. Consumers Union, publisher of Consumer Reports, has created an outstanding study on the omnipresent advertising, as of the late 1980s, that children face in school and home life--well worth a read. Ypsidixit, who refuses to wear anything with a brand on it*, thinks people who do are narcotized lemmings, hasn't watched a second of TV for years now, buys all her clothing used, and thinks a good time is to look at the fiery red sumac now in Gallup Park while biking past, is sad to see corporations training people into the empty mindset that the worth, mystery, and beauty of life depends not on reading or thought or passion or nature or quiet reflection or interactions with thoughtful others but...cheap, crass, meaningless products. *with the exception of her treasured if slightly baggy "This American Life" T-shirt. *one of these days they're going to get stuck, just like Mom always said. Not "passionate marriage." Or "cerebral, nuanced marriage." Or "a fiery welding of souls hungry for each other marriage." Nope. It's that revolting, patronizing, hygienic term which usually makes Ypsidixit run for the hills, "healthy." Ugh. Your tax dollars are draining away into rooms lit by buzzing fluorescent lights where freshly-graduated, still-acne'd, non-Faulknerian social workers are lecturing some couple in folding chairs on how two human beings on the face of this earth should approach the profound mystery, mystical fire, infinite ocean of emotion, and heavily gravel-strewn yet soul-wrenchingly beautiful bike path that is the union of two people. I don't think so. Highlight from the "The ACF Healthy Marriage Initiative is Not About:" section of the page: "Running a federal dating service." Bummer. *Good writer, but, um, no. This line probably branched off of the Michigan Central at the kink in the Michigan Central Line just north of EMU, to continue west on the current secret path south of the stadium, then angle southwest, once it cleared Ypsi, towards Saline, and later Manchester, the town of Bankers in Hillsdale County, and ultimately Fort Wayne. Ypsidixit searched all evening for a map of this elusive railroad. Then, in a moment of exhaustion, she glanced up at the big 1902 Geological Survey map of Ypsi hanging above her desk. Of course, there it was, plain as day, winding down to Saline. Might be as interesting as a recent talk at Harvard, at which Scalia said, "I even take the position that sexual orgies eliminate social tensions and ought to be encouraged." Yes, he did. Ypsilanti night, cold under the door Ypsidixit, who never has or will get a flu shot for numerous carefully researched reasons and a couple of irrational prejudices, thinks a sunny disposition is the best medicine. *Tickets are $15, $20, & $30; order Maher tickets here. "Was there a post about a camera shoot? Or did I imagine it?� I told my friend [local journalist] Hannah [Northey] about it, because I knew she'd be excited to see her name in print on the blog... and now neither of us can find it...maybe the magazine asked you to keep it under wraps, or that it wasnt' going to run, or ?? Just curious...." Yes, there was a post about a photo shoot, rescheduled to today. I deleted it because it seemed a tad boastful--("I'm such a bigshot--I have a photo shoot"). Northey's writing a story about the bike path for the WCC paper The Voice, and she wished to take a pic of Y.'s bike. Her story was picked up by Current., and the photo shoot went into flux because both Ms. N. and I ran into work conflicts today, and she wasn't sure if Current could do the shoot. So it's up in the air right now. Meanwhile, the morning are getting mighty refreshing, and the frost-freeze warning tonight might drive Y. onto the bus tomorrow; I'll have to see. Y. biked to work with socks on her hands this morning, after a fruitless search for her gloves. It was fairly tacky. I trusted in my leather jacket's long sleeves to disguise the socks (at least they matched, sort of) as mittenlike objects. The stage held a plush red chair stage left, her keyboard, mikes, and violin-hanger clustered in the center, and a hanging black and white picture of the pocked surface of the moon rear stage right. All over the stage were set tiny fist-sized glass ball lanterns burning like flickering stars, and fog floated in the air, making it seem as though Anderson were God herself suspended in the nebulous cosmos, or sometimes sitting among the stars in God's plush red throne, reeling off tales of time, space, hawks, the greening of Mars, a ten-day walk, the new union of MIT and the Army to redirect development of spacesuits for future use in desert warfare, and the manner in which time will ultimately end, and the last atoms disconnect. At one point she affixed a tiny NASA camera to her violin bow. The "poster" of the moonface abruptly changed--oh, it's an electronic screen--to a black and white realtime shot of the bow moving over the violin. The violin suggested a weird "2001"-ish spaceship suspended among the hazy starlike lights caught in the background. Breathtaking. Anderson was not at the top of her game, as she is on the CD "The Ugly One with the Jewels," which Ypsidixit later delightedly bought at Borders, having misplaced her old copy. The sheer intensity and profound poetic darkness of such "Ugly One" songs as Y.'s all-time favorite, "Same Time Tomorrow," weren't here to quite the same degree, and one sensed a sadness in Anderson related to her reference to our having stepped through a door after the 9/11 attacks that we can't go back through. But all in all, an outstanding, completely hypnotic and beautiful experience that transported both Y. and friend. Afterwards: dinner at Jerusalem Gardens, a very long walk around town, a scientific examination of the shadowiest nook of Liberty Park, and a late coffee at Espresso Royale. Day of poetry, potent dark stories, happiness, laughter, and wonder. Ypsidixit reacted strongly to this story on several levels: *wowee, Harper's is online! And no annoying registration or daypass a la Salon, &c.
This delightful, witty, richly funny allegory pits atheism and Catholicism against each other by offering the tale of two rival Scotsmen, hardboiled atheist Turnbull and diehard Catholic MacIan, who vow to fight a duel to the death to defend the integrity of their respective beliefs. The only problem is--where? Their fiery vow has made the news and every time they resolve to duel, via rapier, they're interrupted by constables, chance, or circumstance. After running repeatedly from a wildly varied string of interruptions (including a champagne-soaked stint on what turns out not to be a desert island), the duo end up trapped in an insane asylum where each has a dream--Turnbull of a heartless Stalinist state and MacIan of a pitiless, cruel theocracy. The resolution? The two, now fast friends, having grown to respect and tolerate each other's unshakeable integrity, find that their real enemy is the apathetic masses too lazy to examine or defend their tepid beliefs. If any. Raging atheist Ypsidixit agrees--somewhat cautiously, as a stray whiff of incense wafts into her crucifix-free office, with this premise. Y. loved this graceful tale, introduced to her by a Catholic friend. Y's Dover edition also includes an insightful introduction by none other than renowned skeptic Martin Gardner--just that fact alone should have you reaching for the car keys to fly down to Barnes & Noble to grab this book. Several choice excerpts I especially loved are in "comments." "Do you know of any local egg suppliers?� A friend of mine went to a talk on the ethics of factory farming and has decided that he wants to start getting his eggs at someplace local, so that he can actually look and see that the chickens are being treated humanely, rather than having some vague airy promise about "free range" on a carton be his only information."
Longtime columnist Judy Busack has resigned. THE REASON? Heavy-handed micromanagement from new owners Heritage Newspapers, which included a mandatory drug test (can you imagine?) and a mandatory meeting that didn't turn out so well. I was never kidding when I lauded Busack's columns written by her cat Onyx. I loved that. It was so homey and fun. Gone now. Show's over, folks. Say goodbye to "your only hometown newspaper"! "When Dean Young Talks about Wine": The worm thrashes when it enters the tequila. But when Dean Young talks about wine, his voice is strangely calm. He says, Great first chapter but no plot. Launched by Henry Ford, designed by renowned architect Albert Kahn, and built in the spring of 1941 on the original 1853 site of Wiard's Orchards, which was forced to move to its present site, Willow Run in its day was the world's largest factory. Lindbergh called it the Grand Canyon of the mechanized world. Early in the war, the government banned civilian auto production and plane production began in earnest. Ford's shady right-hand man, Harry Bennett, organized a drive to bring workers from the South and is directly responsible for the many descendants of Southerners who live in Ypsi today. Despite the images of vast, bustling, productive assembly halls full of planes that constitute many Ypsilantians' imaginations of Willow Run, a growing roster of problems that included housing shortages led to a Senate investigation of Willow Run in 1943. Examine the faces of workers in their meagre housing to draw your own conclusions. Most of story above condensed from the Freep's Willow Run history. "Bringing the telegrah hundreds of miles into Michigan was a major challenge...keeping wires from breaking, sealing them under water, and maintaining the strength of the signal over half the continent did stretch the capabilities of even the best entrepreneurs." Once the telegraph was built, Ypsi had instant access to East Coast news, instead of reading about it days later in the local papers. The telegraph's advent was one small step closer to our harried media-saturated lives. The telegraph was the Victorian-era Internet,* and several marriages were performed "online." The telegraph is still in operation), and Detroit's Telegraph Road was named for the telegraph lines that once lined it. *This is a book that's prized in Ypsidixit's collection--well worth a read. OK, I have no choice but to go research a fascinating story on 19th-century Washtenaw County communication that I want to tell you about later tonight (stupid Hotmail). A: Because of all the sandwiches there. There are 141 cemeteries in the county. 15 of them are abandoned. We got to see 4 of the oldest. With my "Directory of Cemeteries of Washtenaw County" in hand we blasted off way down Michigan Ave to the very southwest corner of the county to visit Reynold's Corners in Manchester Township. This quiet small lot off a dirt road off Michigan Ave. featured early 19th-century stones with calligraphic carving and an 1883 vault. The vault was used to store caskets of those who'd died in winter until they could be buried when the ground softened. Surrounded by quiet rolling farmland, the peaceful lot was a soothing and meditative place. We watched two cranes leisurely walking in the nearby farmland, and were surprised by a big herd of Holsteins ambling by. We went to the fence to say hello, spooking the cows. It took 20 minutes for them to slowly edge back near us. I talked to one and she came up and licked my elbow a dozen times, which I took as a blessing. Off we went up M-52 to Unadilla Cemetery* at the very top northwest part of the county. This graveyard used to be regularly burned to keep down the weeds, and many of the older stones were sooty. After this came a long, leisurely picnic deep in a wild off-trail area in Waterloo Nature Area. Afterwards, a visit to the Dexter Cemetery off Lima Center Road east of Chelsea. This tiny abandoned cemetery offered a couple dozen tilting 19th-century stones. Unlike Unadilla, which had some monumental edifices, all the stones here were simple flat plates--this was a workingman's and farmer's cemetery. Here we watched a giant moon rise over a misty field behind the cemetery as the sun went down. The last one we visited was the most abandoned--in a thicket of brush nearby the Dexter Cemetery. We poked our way in to a gloomy forest with thick ivy over the ground. We had the right spot, but didn't see stones--they may be lying flat on the ground--and decided to revisit when it was sunnier. It was a day of corroded calligraphy, shy cows, discussions of grave iconography, clouds, sun, vistas, butterflies mixed with falling leaves, smiles, happiness, and wonder. *Unadilla is not, strictly speaking, abandoned, but has interesting old stones. ____________________________________________________________________________________________2004-09-26-1:13 a.m.: I GAVE THANKS FOR THE GIFT of a whole fall day to putter in the yard and do much-needed yard work today. The grey cloudiness plus the yellow leaves here and there made me nostalgic and moody as I trimmed the sprawling hedges along the front fence and mowed the lawn for the last time this year. My sunflowers have dropped their sulphur-yellow and sooty-carmine petals and have ripened, so I cut off the seedheads and arranged them on my platform bird feeder. I was transfixed, some time later in the kitchen, to see a little chickadee perching on one of the bumpy heads and pecking out seeds.This blog is directly responsible for a 15-foot-high ragweed growing out by my grape arbor. Yes, 15 feet high: I hacked it down, slashed down wild growths of mint and deadly nightshade, and clipped into unwilling submission the crazed elms that keep popping up all over thanks to the mama elm in a neighbor's yard, which releases ten quadrillion floaty seeds into the air each spring like snow. I pruned, hacked, trimmed, and drank coffee. Took a bike trip to Kroger's to fetch picnic supplies. It was a quiet, peaceful, slightly mournful day full of leaves, clouds, grass-stained feet, and thoughts about the coming cold, dark tunnel of winter and mortality in general. ____________________________________________________________________________________________2004-09-25-11:56 p.m.: BOOKS READ: Ypsidixit took a break from furiously scribbling microscopic marginalia in her well-worn copy of the Summa Theologica* long enough to read "Enslaved by Ducks," by Bob Tarte. Critics have lauded this bit of brain popcorn as a witty account of one man's resigned acceptance of a houseful of pets. Ypsidixit does not laud this book. She found it disquieting. The author jokingly details his going on Zoloft, but does not tell why. There are passing mentions of such attention-getting details as his wife's "Christian zeal" and an episode of Zoloft-induced screaming along a freeway that are left unexplored in favor of descriptions of amusing bunny antics. It's a one-joke book: man beseiged by critters. Ypsidixit stopped wasting her time halfway through this book and will not dignify it by including it in her library (my, how snooty). It's the story of a troubled, issue-laden man disguised as an animal lovefest. Feh. Back to the Summa. *Not really. But I do own a copy and, raging atheist or no, have laboriously read it and admire the sheer, icy beauty of Aquinas's diamond-like legalistic arguments for the existence of God. TO MAKE A LINE BREAK in "comments," just type < br >, except with no spaces between the "< >" and the "br". Mash it together. I can't type it thus here since it would not be visible if I did. TO MAKE A SPACE BETWEEN LINES of comments, just use 2: < br >< br >. Again, mash it all together, no spaces. TO MAKE ITALICS, put < i > in front of the section you want italicized and < /i > at the end (except without the spaces). TO BOLDFACE, put < b > at the beginning and < /b > at the end (once again, no spaces). TO MAKE A LINK: put < a href="http://whatever.page.you're.linking.to.com"> No space between the < and the a, though. And that's about the extent of my knowledge of html. ____________________________________________________________________________________________2004-09-25-10:33 a.m.: GOSH DANGIT, THAT LIBRARY OF CONGRESS SITE IS LIKE A WHIRLPOOL! OK, just one more. Then I HAVE to mow the lawn:Check this out. When Ann Arbor citizens of 1862 had a beef with Abraham Lincoln, they just simply wrote him a little old one-page letter, in impassioned handwriting that could be a tad neater.* "To the President of the United States. "We the undersigned Citizens of the City of Ann Arbor Mich. having understood that the Congressional delegation and Senators from this State unanimously recommended Mr. A DeForest of this City for the Appointment of Collector of Internal Revenue for the third Congressional district of this State, learn with Astonishment that Ira Mayhew of Albion, has been Appointed to that Office, we desire [we're still on the first sentence, here, and I'm gasping for air] Most Respectfully to protest against his Appointment and we furthermore desire to endorse and sustain the recommendation of the Congressional delegation for the Appointment of Mr DeForest to the office in question." Among the numerous signatures is that of early AA philanthropist Philip Bach, for whom Bach elementary school is named. *(to see it, go to the site and "search across all collections" for "ann arbor" and select item #2--it won't allow a permanent link.) ____________________________________________________________________________________________2004-09-25-9:34 a.m.: A FEW HISTORICAL NUGGETS:Did you know that Abraham Lincoln, no less, nominated one of our postmasters in 1864 at a meeting of the U.S. Senate? "I nominate Daniel B. Greene to be deputy postmaster at Ypsilanti, in the county of Washtenaw and State of Michigan, in place of Ralph W. Van Fossen, removed." [why was Fossen removed?] --Abraham Lincoln to U.S. Senate, May 3, 1864. Did you know Ypsilantians served in the war of 1812? I sure didn't: "Mr. Bingham presented a petition of citizens of Ypsilanti, Michigan, who served in the war of 1812, praying that pensions may be granted." --United States Senate Journal, Feb. 14, 1860. And in 1833, Michigan Ave was in such a sorry state that a Mr. Wing petitioned the national government for help: "Mr. Wing presented a memorial of the Legislative Council of the Territory of Michigan, praying that provision may be made for the repair of the road between Detroit and Ypsilanti, in said Territory." --Journal of the House of Representatives, February 11, 1833. Yes, Ypsidixit is raptly reading ancient yellowed legal documents from the spectacular historical Library of Congress site instead of mowing the lawn, doing the laundry, and picking up. I have to get moving, here. ____________________________________________________________________________________________
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HISTORY OF YPSI RAILROADS:
YPSI FOR KERRY: Crimewave publisher Mark Maynard has organized a debate-watching wingding with local bloggers and friends, who'll watch the debates, maybe hear a talk by a MoveOn speaker, and have a beer and relax. Ypsidixit and her adventurous friend will be there, and she hopes to meet other local bloggers. I'm sorry for the short notice: I just learned about it. But I do hope kind readers have a chance to stop by--I'd love to meet you and say hello.
THE 
BOOKS READ: "HAUNTED MICHIGAN," by Rev. Gerald Hunter. 
YANKEE AIR MUSEUM BURNED TO THE GROUND last night, and it 
CORPORATIZING CHILDREN: Ypsidixit was saddened today to learn, from 
VANISHED YPSI RAILROAD: The secret path behind the stadium was once the railroad bed of the 1871 Detroit, Hillsdale, and Indiana line. 
BOOKS READ: The brilliant journalist and Catholic apologist G. K. Chesterton's 1908 novel "The Ball and the Cross."
YPSILANTI WAS THE FIRST MICHIGAN TERMINUS OF THE EXPANDING TELEGRAPH in 1847. The first-in-Michigan Detroit to Ypsi line was built along the old Michigan Central railroad in 1847, the same 1839 railroad that brought the Orphan Train orphans to Ypsi and today continues via Amtrak to Chicago. 