Tag Archives: midwest

Midwest Nice

Door County was not on my radar until recently, but I’m making up for lost time.

When I told my L.A. friend, Stephanie, that we were moving to Wisconsin, she said that I should check out the latest season of the reality cooking show, Top Chef. So, I did, and learned about the famous Door County cherries and the zany Door County “fish boils” (that look both entertaining and terrifying). It took about two seconds to decide that I wanted to visit, and we did a week ago for ourselves and then again yesterday with visiting family because it is just too wonderful not to share.

A week ago we went to see the fall colors, which was a resounding success. We drove through Green Bay Packer gameday traffic with our sights set on Sturgeon Bay, of course, since we’re Sturgeons and all. We had to stop for a picture in Sturgeon Bay, but because we were hungry Sturgeons, we stopped for brunch, too.

At Scaturo’s Baking Company & Café, Jody, ever the Southerner, ordered biscuits and gravy, while I went with an omelet that featured famous Wisconsin cheese, and just as we started to eat a door opened and our new friend, Tom, poked his head in the door! We knew that Tom and Debbie were in Door County that weekend, too, but it was such a fun surprise to bump into them and share a lovely and unexpected brunch together.

We then drove up Highway 42 to Egg Harbor where we stopped to walk around a bit. I swear that we hadn’t walked ten yards when I heard my name, and it was Tom again! We joined him at an artisan bread shop where Jody purchased a butter cookie before heading up the road a bit to an artisan cheese factory to sample several of the twenty cheeses that they make onsite.

We continued our drive up Highway 42 to its famously winding end at Northport, taking in the sights in cool communities like Fish Creek, Ephraim (my personal favorite), Sister Bay, Ellison Bay (where I got a scrumptious gluten-free “cherry berry muffin” at Kick Ash, a fun coffee shop), and Gills Rock. On the return trip we took the Lake Michigan route and stopped for a stroll in Bailey’s Harbor. We finally stopped to eat (again) in Sturgeon Bay before heading home. No additional Tom sightings, but still, all in all, a perfect day.

Back at home a week ago Sunday, I posted my fall foliage pictures on my social media accounts, and then Rob, a friend from Nashville commented that he had just seen Door County featured on 60 Minutes! What are the odds?!

I immediately watched the segment, titled, “This Wisconsin county has backed the winning presidential candidate for the last 6 elections,” which opened by saying that of the 513 counties in the key swing states, Door County is the only one that has picked the winner in every election this century. So, 60 Minutes decided to take a closer look.

I suggest you take fifteen minutes of your life and watch the segment, but in case you do not, I’ll share why I am writing today: not simply to introduce you to “the Cape Cod of the Midwest,” but to share with you how the 60 Minutes segment ended. Here is the final exchange between Jon Wertheim (journalist for 60 Minutes), Emma Cox (Door County store owner voting on the left), and Austin Vandertie (Door County dairy farmer voting on the right):

But in our quest, maybe we stumbled across something even more rare, we found a place in America where family and community outrank party loyalty. In this divisive election season, we came to America’s ultimate battleground….except there was no battle … as they say here with pride, we live above the tension line. 

Jon Wertheim: What’s your sense of how the tone in Door County compares to the tone nationally?

Emma Cox: You don’t wanna alienate your neighbors. You don’t wanna alienate your fellow business owners. You all come together.

Jon Wertheim: Do you have family members that are gonna vote differently from you?

Austin Vandertie: Oh, absolutely.

Jon Wertheim: Everyone invited to Thanksgiving, regardless?

Austin Vandertie: Absolutely. Politics is, you know, if we can’t talk about it that means it’s gone way too far in the wrong direction.

Jon Wertheim: You recognize that’s not necessarily the, the vibe in the country at large?

Austin Vandertie: Hey. We’re a little different in Wisconsin, I guess. We got that Midwest nice going on. 

In keeping with the undulations of Highway 42, in Door County, Wisconsin, you swing back and forth and continue on down the road. 

Election Day is almost here. I have strong opinions and significant apprehension concerning what lies ahead. But in the wishful thinking department, let it be known that I wish the entire world would adopt a Door County “Midwest Nice” commitment so that I actually believed that we all would continue on down the road together.

A Midwestern Farewell on Independence Day

Carlinville, Illinois

There is a tiny town about twenty miles from here, and its welcome-to-town slogan meekly mentions to passers-through, “Pleasant Living in a Convenient Place.” Had I ever made a sound before that could be described as a yelp? I don’t know, but I recall a surprising laughter-sound emerging when I first saw the most Midwestern description of a town imaginable.

Today ends my Midwestern adventure of about two-and-a-half years. It has been pleasant to say the least, which is what Midwesterners tend to do, say the least that is, but I want to say more.

It took moving to Illinois to fully recognize my own roots since I grew up in Arkansas, which both sounds and feels like the Deep South. My mother was from a town named Strawberry in “the hills” of Arkansas—yes, you can think hillbillies—but my dad was from the Missouri bootheel, not so far away geographically, yet no one thinks Deep South when considering Missouri. I grew up in Arkansas, sure, but the northeastern tip and just a couple miles from the Missouri state line, and it took moving to Illinois to see that my dad’s family was Midwestern through and through, and that my heritage is both Southern and Midwestern.

It has been good to come home for a while to a place that I didn’t even know was home. And I will miss it in the way that you miss when leaving home.

I will miss many things. The people, of course. The understated lifestyle. Early morning runs in farm country. The train whistles. The towering corn stalks. Cardinal baseball on KMOX. The summer sno-cone stand. The transformation of autumn, and later, the peaceful beauty of snow. The local parades, and a favorite restaurant on the town square where the staff knows me and my favorite meal.

Two local churches let me preach sermons for them on many occasions, and the last time I did, as many people filed by and shared kind words, an old farmer-type stopped, looked me in the eye with a firm handshake and said with a sincerity that I cannot describe: “Thank you for relating to us.”

I surely won’t forget that.

Tomorrow, early, we will get in our cars, find the oft-traveled Mother Road, and head West until we reach the California ocean that we know very well. But tonight, we will attempt to sleep in a dark and empty house, listening to fireworks shatter the silence. I will know that the explosions are a centuries-old affront to old King George, while in reality simply an excuse for grown children to exercise a primal urge to blow things up. But me, I will imagine that bursts of extravagant colors fill the sky above where I sleep in an exquisite conspiracy by the entire Midwest to, for once at least, display its true beauty.