After the Outer Banks trip and a Covid-related delay, we headed to Michigan on July 27th to visit the Detroit area and Caseville. As we crossed from Ohio to Michigan, we found many signs that there had been changes in Michigan since our last visit.

Michigan had gone full capitalism on recreational weed, a breakthrough that many people we were meeting in Michigan had been preparing for their whole lives. In a development that could be partially related, our normally ultra-scheduled Caseville vacation had no scheduled events for more than three days to start the vacation, and people just sat around and did things like this:

Much of this was a reaction to last year’s trip to Caseville, the most overscheduled vacation in all of human history. Since our group isn’t big on moderation, we swung this year to the other extreme by scheduling nothing. Where last year people sometimes missed naps and seeing the sun set due to extravagant cocktail hours, meetings to decide the agenda for future meetings, and elaborate multi-event pretend olympics, this year people had time to watch slowly moving weather fronts.

There was the leisure to engage in high-energy sporting events. Or pick-up croquet, which was the closest we got to a sporting event.

Against the odds, without a typed itinerary and pre-vacation Zoom meetings, people enjoyed cocktails anyway.

There was even a bake-off, but the baked goods were consumed so rapidly that no photographic evidence remains that the bake-off, in fact, occurred. Future generations seeking information about the alleged bake-off will have to rely on the collective memory of people who may or may not have been impacted by Michigan’s new recreational marijuana laws.

After a few days of leisure, we did get to some of our traditional Caseville events, even scheduling some like a day in advance, such as kayaking on the Pinnebog River and holding the Caseville Olympic Games. In keeping with the shift away from numerous scheduled obligations, the games were scaled back to about an hour on a single day, with only two teams competing. One thing remained the same: the games started with the traditional appeal for all people to not be too competitive, to just have fun.

Just to be clear about why this is noteworthy, our Caseville group includes people who are so competitive that:

• A few years ago, one of them told a six-year-old McKenna after a game of backgammon that “I let you win that time, but I won’t ever again, so pay attention this time!”
• A “best 2/3” series of croquet became a best “1/1” game of croquet after one person refused to continue the series because they finished game one outside of first, second, and third place.
• A couple of years ago, a group game of “rock, paper, scissors” resulted in angry yelling and people running to the restrooms to seek safety from the chaos.
• People try to “win” kayaking.

• Some even compete at being the best aunt.

But maybe this is the year where everyone participates for the love of the game.

As always, some people DID compete for the fun of the games. Other people, though, could only resist their competitive instincts for so long. When the events started, they had the eye of the tiger. The eye that is sometimes bloodshot of the intensely competitive tiger who may have visited a Michigan dispensary on the way to Caseville.

Still, the four events were completed with no one running in terror for the pavilion restrooms. Now that the Olympics were done, we could enjoy some family camaraderie playing some uncompetitive miniature golf.

The family Olympics was by no means the only occasion where friendship failed to carry the day. McKenna learned how to make friendship bracelets while in Michigan and proceeded to charge her cousins $5 per bracelet, clearly illustrating that her friendship bracelets were not comrade bracelets. There will be no redistribution of friendship bracelet wealth here.

Another traditional Caseville event that we found time for was our annual kayaking trip down the Pinnebog River. The river goes through some marshland and sandy shores on the way to Lake Huron, and kayaking through Port Crescent State Park runs about 1.75 miles.

The day was perfect for kayaking – sunny but in the 60’s. With the nice weather, we had our biggest group to go kayaking ever, and many in the group chose two-person kayaks.

For most people, that worked great. However, anyone who has rowed as a team with someone on a kayak or canoe knows that there is a learning curve, that communication is essential, and that some people are just not compatible as a kayak duo.

Other people were able to make it work, possibly due to their laid-back personalities or desire to win kayaking. Or by establishing a social contract whereby the person in the front agrees never to row, ever.

The river ends at a beach, where the river’s end is surrounded by sand on three sides, and we usually stop there before turning around.

Most of the kids went to the sandy hill across from the area where we came ashore, and, since returning to their starting point by land would involve the longest voluntary walk that any of these children had recently completed, we wondered how they would get back.

Those of us sane enough not to swim across strange rivers that may have a stronger current than we are aware of stayed on the sandbar that separates the river from Lake Huron.

As is tradition, the kids waded into the surf of Lake Huron. This year, the water was actually warn enough that some adults gave it try as well.

Having fun on the beach gave people the chance to forget their double kayak trials or river crossing mishaps. We could come together as a happy family.

Finally, it was time to return down the river. In spite of the earlier evidence that piloting a two-person kayak wasn’t as easy as it seemed, McKenna and Grace decided they could do it.

Using a zig-zag technique that would have been great for throwing off pursuit in a spy movie but which was less than ideal for returning to the car before sunset, McKenna and Grace made their way down the river.

Against the odds, all of the two-person kayaks made it back and there were no homicides. Next up was an event that showcased the cooperation and friendliness that some people failed to achieve while kayaking: the Caseville Talent Show.

I know what you are thinking: family talent shows, especially those featuring kids, are traditionally soul-crushing in their awfulness. The “talents” that children choose to exhibit are usually things like “dances” that fuse random yoga positions and karate kicks in a mashup that is so terrible, the audience plots revenge by videoing the display to later show at the dancer’s wedding. The Caseville Talent Show has none of that, instead featuring a variety of actual talents. In part that’s because we know enough not to trust children to correctly identify and accurately display a “talent” on their own, and all dance numbers have been commandeered by adults, with Rebecca directing and choreographing a musical number for the kids.

On August 6th, it was time to pack up and leave Caseville. Checkout was at 10:00am, and we pulled out at the crack of 10:21, heading back to the Detroit area. On the way back, we were sucked into that vortex of tourist traps known as Frankenmuth. After a mandatory stop at Zehnder’s for a chicken lunch, we strolled the city center looking for treats and presents that Laura could use to gain the affection of her niece and nephews in order to win at aunting. In the process, we found some excellent fudge.

And some imposters pretending to be fudge.

After our city center excursion on an unusually hot Michigan day, Mark escaped the tourist vortex with his dad, who had joined us for lunch. The rest of us went to the eye of the Frankenmuth tourist hurricane: Bronner’s Christmas Wonderland, the world’s largest Christmas store.

As is always the case on these vacations, there are lots of family pictures, and we had planned to take some more in the Detroit area. By the time we got back to the Detroit area, though, it was hot. Like, Virginia hot. Coming from Virginia, usually hearing people from Michigan complain about Michigan heat in the summer is much the same as a Michigander listening to a Virginian complain about winter cold: kind of cute but not to be taken seriously. This time, however, the heat was comparable and the humidity was that thick, “I’m breathing liquid air” variety.

After a few false starts getting a good picture, we had a breakthrough: it would be both easier to see on this sunny day and cooler if we took the picture in the shade.

We were even able to convince/coerce the kids into taking a picture where no one looked angry and no one was blinking.

Having taken all of the pictures we wanted, now it was time for another talent show.