Following a typically amazing plate of tacos at Lupitas in Detroit’s Mexican Town, we headed over to Roosevelt Park at the Southern edge of Corktown for R. Park Fest ‘11.  The allure of 30 craft beers on tap, some great Detroit bands and temporary halfpipe/skatepark was enough to get us there, although I generally like any chance I get to head to Detroit.

In the end, we were only there for about an hour as the impending rain put festivities on hold just after the excellent set by Scott Masson’s new project Glossies.  But during that hour, we had a couple of fine Michigan beers, talked shit with some of our skater friends and met recent Detroit transplant Bryan Christopher Baker who has just set up his new letterpress studio Stukenborg just down the street in Corktown.  It turns out Bryan was responsible for the great R. Park Fest poster I kept seeing in everyone’s hands.

I’m sure we’ll be seeing plenty more from him as he gets acclimated into the Detroit arts and print scene.

On our way out, we stopped to watch some of the skaters on the weird collapsible halfpipe trailer which was provided by Modern Skate.  With the old train station in the background, it was a pretty stunning scene.

Just before we left, I took a few shots of Michigan Central Station across from Roosevelt Park.  I never tire of this downtrodden abandoned monolith looming over Corktown.  I  hope they can save this beautiful building which has stood empty for so long.  Detroiters are well aware of the importance and relevance of their history, but sometimes these old giants do fall.  I was reminded of this as we drove home down Michigan Avenue past Tiger Stadium where all that remains is a fence and a weedy diamond.  And what do you know?  There was a pick-up game in progress!  Beautiful.

-TM

Ealier this month, we spent about a week and a half up North camping, swimming and helping our friends Nora and Jared stage an elaborate and beautiful wedding in the woods outside of Big Bay near Marquette. 

I’m always drawn to classic vintage signs from bygone eras.  Below is a trio of beauties I saw on our trip to the U.P.  Two of them harken to the golden age of American roadside tourism and although they were taken on two different peninsulas, both are of “Indian Villages”.

Our truck broke down in West Branch off of I-75N and we were stranded at a public RV park for a night.  This above Indian Village Adventure Golf course was just across the street from us and next door to the auto dealer who would repair the truck the following Monday.  There was a large cement teepee which appears to have originally housed the office, but was now a tool/junk shed.  We had to go into the sad, dark bowling alley behind the course to get our clubs and score sheet.  When we asked if there was any place in town where we could get a decent meal, the nice young guy at the alley enthusiastically recommended Ponderosa Steakhouse.

On the back end of our trip after many nights of camping, we stopped to spend the night on the North side of the bridge in St. Ignace where we could sleep in a proper hotel bed .  We walked down the main drag for some underwhelming fried Whitefish at the Driftwood Sportsbar and then poked around the knick-knacks at Indian Village.  Like most of these Northern tourist shops, it’s either horrible or awe-inspiring depending on your point of view.  Airbrushed wolf sweatshirts that would look at home on a Brooklyn hipster or an Escanaba mom, overpriced moccasins, the typical Mackinac Bridge shot glasses and mugs… when I’m in the mood, I kind of love these places.  After leaving there we went across the street to the Museum of Ojibwe Culture and watched a captivating video on how to make a birch canoe by hand.  It was actually quite beautiful.

On the morning of the wedding while Nora and Kristie were getting their hair done, I took a walk around Marquette.  I visited some of my favorite little shops like Snowbound Books and Views of the Past and then checked out the busy Saturday farmer’s market. On my way out of the market I passed by Remie’s Tavern where I once watched the thrilling conclusion of a Tigers playoff game in 2006 after a mid-October GLMS show just down the street.  The bar is decent, but the sign is a total neon classic.

-TM

This is a 1970’s Airstream Excella land yacht.  It was purchased by Zingerman’s Mail Order and is being remodeled to be used as a stationary meeting/conference space outside their warehouse in Ann Arbor, MI.  Kristie found it in Grand Rapids and towed it back to it’s new home last month.  It’s great to see people making creative use out of unusual spaces.

I’ve always been attracted to these silver beauties and even have a song named after them, but I hadn’t really caught the travel trailer bug until last year when Kristie and I brought home a 1963 Nomad camper.  Now I find myself driving around looking in people’s yards and behind barns trying to catch a glimpse of vintage campers.  It’s strange when you discover a new interest.  I had barely noticed them before and now find them everywhere.

We are about to take our camper “Danforth” to the U.P. for a week of camping in Marquette and Big Bay.  I’ll post more photos when I’m able.

-TM

Mary Coyle Ice Cream Shop.  Highland Square in Akron, Ohio. Classic ice cream parlor on Market Street near where I played.

-TM

Brablec Farms Yard Sale.  End result.  July 9, 2011.

-TM

The top two photos are from a Sunday drive to Monroe, Michigan. 

The barber’s sign seemed really sentimental and optimistic to me.  It seems like it doesn’t belong in the modern era.  The whole city seemed a little misplaced in time. 

The drive in hot dog stand was a perfect bit of Americana.  Drive-in service, a tray on the driver side window with a chili dog, Better Made chips and a frosty mug of homemade root beer.  Of course I listened to the Tiger game while I ate.

The old Smith-Corona typewriter is my own.  I used the camper today as the office for my new label Northern Detective.  I actually still use this typewriter although the ribbon is losing its ink and I’m sure there’s no way to find a replacement for something like that. 

-TM

Sunday evening. 5:00.  Brablec Farms.

After playing a rare daytime gig at the Green Street Fair in Plymouth on Saturday, I followed the rainclouds into Ann Arbor for Eric Farrell’s annual Kentucky Derby Party.  As always, the hats were fancy and the juleps bottomless. 

On Sunday, we spent the afternoon at the farm working on Danforth, our vintage travel trailer.  The birch ceiling panel we’ve been threatening to install all winter is finally in! There are still a few more cosmetic overhauls to make, but it is currently functional and ready for its first trip.

Later that evening we managed to get all three Monger men on stage for a surprise Mother’s Day performance at Old Town in Ann Arbor.  This was the first time Jamie and I have ever been joined by our father at a gig.  It went really well, so hopefully it won’t be the last.  Kristie took this photo:

In just one week, we’ll be en route to London for a few days and then up to Scotland.  Amazing.

-TM

Wilson Monger, 14 years old.

The newly tweaked lineup of Timothy Monger State Park notched our second show this weekend with a strange drunken night full of friends and family.  In addition to being the record release show for Jeremy Quentin’s Small Houses project, the show at Woodruff’s was my dear brother’s aptly titled “Jamie Monger Birthday Acknowledgement Night”.  GLMS bassist and close friend Scott McClintock made a surprise visit from Virginia as did some other really amazing people who were not from Virginia.  In addition to the alcohol and good cheer there were balloons shaped like champagne bottles and dolphins, a copmlete set of MLB team stickers and a lovely TMSP/JMBAN banner courtesy of Jenny Harley.  We have some cool friends. 

The evening ended with a sloppy but heartfelt Monger Brothers encore just before closing time.  Here are a few photos that Jack Spack took.

Jamie quizzing the audience on his lyrics:

Me laughing:

TMSP playing rock music:

My strange Saturday began with a 21 mile training run to Petersburg and back which was horribly derailed by the flooding of the River Raisin at Ida Highway.  The only crossing I could find that didn’t involve miles of rerouting was over an old decrepit railroad trestle to which I could only gain access by trespassing through someone’s yard.  While it was a thrill navigating the rickety old bridge over the swollen brown river it pretty much killed my concentration and the remaining 9 miles back to Britton were horrendous.  But, with just three weeks to go and very limited training time left, this will have to serve as my last long run until the Edinburgh Marathon on May 22nd.  I’m sure that adrenaline and a hearty breakfast of haggis and blood sausage will carry me through the race just fine.

Following my run, I ate a bunch of calories and watched Fellowship of the Rings from my sleeping bag on the living room floor.  Later that evening before the gig, we celebrated both Jamie and Tania’s birthdays with an insane Korean dinner at Seoul Garden in Ann Arbor.  BBQ beef, pork, Bi Bim Bop, Kimchi… the works!  It was a heroic amount of eating. 

Kristie took this photo of our accomplishments:

Today, we were very tired.  Amidst the untroubled lounging and watching of subsequent Lord of the Rings films Kristie and I managed to knock out a quick photo shoot for my upcoming album.  We used several locations around Britton, but I really like this one at shot at the Britton Grain Elevator. 

And because today is May Day and I was taught by my mother that you’re supposed to leave surprise flower baskets in friends’ doorways, here is a picture of a surprise hyacinth that popped up in front of our house.

Happy May Day.

-TM