Muskegon Farmers Market
October 8th 2016
Muskegon Michigan
A man in an argyle sweater and khakis has set up shop, busking on a violin. He has seated himself between the children's face painting and the Power of Produce stall. He has chosen a location warmed by full sun, as robust a sunbeam as one will find today. He has also chosen a location right before four trash cans, empty trash cans but still trash cans. The staff giving children tokens to buy vegetables have been busy. It's too cold in the barn's shade to hold even a short lesson.
The La La Land girls have turned children into pixies and elves at at steady pace, amazingly face painting children for mere tips in a jar. Last night, children walked Western Avenue adorned in face paint, mimicking tigers and sprites and gesturing with ribbon streamer wands.
Today, children walk the farmers market adorned again in face paint, mimicking a different ethereal creature than last night. The entire month has become Halloween in downtown Muskegon. Kids must love it, especially as fresh cider and candy apples await for purchase along the stalls, cherry turnovers too. Better choices than Halloween candy await at every turn.
The violinist didn't strike me as familiar. He moved to new location, hoping for better tips in his open, worn case. Maybe it's an unwritten rule, but buskers only work the ends of the market aisles. One of my friends has a doctorate in Philosophy, but he pays his small monthly bills by busking, Mandolin busking, at the north corner of the market's inner most aisle. He pulls a two hour shift by Aldea Coffee, Laughing Tree Bakery and the farmer who sells watermelon by the slice. My friend goes home with about a hundred in his frog waste basket, the better to secure those fivers that catch on the wind.
The main stage operates differently. A popular local musician named Kwame curates the buskers on the stage. When performing on the main stage, the busker is allowed amplification, and the music carries from the barn to the Morris Street Pavilion. Kwame always walks around, making certain all the guests are having a good time.
I was loving what I was hearing, and I emerged from my perch in the barn to hear more songs by a woman who had just taken the stage. It was a bit chilly out in the open, but the picnic tables around the stage enjoyed full sun and I was lulled into three songs, cover songs performed well with personal interpretation.
Kwame spotted me, and drew me into conversation.
I quizzed him, "Kwame, what's up with this talent"?
"Well, she found the farmers market. She had just won a Detroit Music Award, so that was a green light for me. Her name is Mary McGuire".
"Nice pull, Kwame", and we hugged and went our ways. Mary McGuire sang, "Like a complete unknown, like a rolling stone", as I rolled away on my Schwinn Admiral.
When I arrived at Unruly Brewing, where like Cheers everybody knows my name, I looked Mary McGuire up. Her Detroit Music Award couldn't be fresher, awarded in 2016. She even shared the stage for a duet awards night with perennial favorite, the polite, crowd-pleasing Jill Jack.
McGuire had plans to put plenty of miles on her boots after busking in Grand Rapids, seeking that ArtPrize gold. Later tonight, she'll cross Michigan on M-46, shortest route, to make a gig at a barbecue house in Frankenmuth. Tomorrow will find her at the Sunday Farmers Market in East Lansing, one of my favorites. Mary McGuire is proof that the best never rest. Catch McGuire this October as her tour touches a farmers market near you.
The Book Nook & Java Shop
Today, I took a county bus up to Whitehall. Most of the riders departed in North Muskegon. One stayed on until the south border of Dalton Township, and unloaded his Mongoose Ten Speed and headed west. He carried his necessaries in a backpack and he had recently had his hair cut back high and tight. Amazingly, the bus drove east to Lakewood Club and then went north to one mile south of the entrance to Blue Lake Fine Arts camp. You could take an early evening bus out to a week night concert and bike home after the show on the Fred Meijer Trail.
The sand lot by the concert halls probably has plenty of chances to thumb a ride home with a family that loves music as much as you do. Plenty of Manistee National Forest surrounds Blue Lake Fines Art Camp, so bring a hammock or a pup tent and sleep until the morning runs begin. The music and theater at the fine arts camp will keep you comfortable through the night. But make sure you are squatting on federal land.
Then the bus zigzags through all of White Lake's shopping and industrial parks. Then it drops off once and only once downtown between Montague Foods and the Book Nook. The last ride back to the county seat picks up at 5:00 and 5:15 PM. Miss it and choices are walking and thumbing. In nine years of living in Muskegon County, I've counted plenty of panhandlers and almost zero hitchhikers. Volunteer as a designated driver at Jimmy's Bar and be insistent. They really need designated drivers at Jimmy's.
The last weekday bus south from Whitehall is right when the Book Nook closes. That's a fine time for a book lover and writer to call it a day. Today at the Nook I saw Robert Swan, violinist from the Chicago Symphony. I also said hello to the executive director of the town's chamber music festival and the man who bakes my bread in a wood fired oven, the Laughing Tree baker exploring the rows of books to a young daughter. I didn't see a popular Naturalist sipping wine at the all too high wine bar with her friends. It was too early for wine drinking; the Naturalist doesn't feed the rumor mill a single scrap.
I wrote. I drank coffee. I stood out front with my hands in my pocket searching for material. Sean France has a new ballet he's debuting, his dance school student fulfilling the Star Wars roles. I noticed that Mitch Copeland, Yogi and playwright, has a plan to take his tribe to Costa Rica for yoga in paradise. I wondered if he meant to write a reality TV pilot on the trip?
In Studio 2, the light inside invited me to open door and go inside. I found an instructor and her students painting sunflowers in the area softly lit by cloudy day sunshine sneaking in big bay windows. I declared the sunflowers to be greater paintings than any by Vincent Van Gogh. The class started trading ideas about Vincent's style and life. Rather than interjecting, I slipped out fairly much unnoticed.
I saw a new business in the PROFESSIONAL BUILDING, identified by block letters impressed in cement. Groove, a record store, had moved next door to the Senior Center, housed in the 1951 offices of Montague State Bank. As I stepped in, I discovered several albums of Fred Bear discussing his hunting technique. Those albums were close to the box of Motor City Madman's albums, Ted Nugent. I found a box of all of John Denver's albums and a box of all Harry Chapin's albums, and Chapin recorded more albums than Denver. Each man died tragically young in an accident, Chapin driving a car and Denver flying a plane.
I did not stay to meet the owner. I figured I had walked into a time warp and left before I couldn't leave. The owner does a mail order business and I noticed her walking packages of albums to the nearby post office. I decided to write two more scenes that afternoon, one for Chapin and one for Denver. Then, bus time arrived and I made a mad dash for the stop.
By Vincent van Gogh - National Gallery (NG3863), London, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=151970
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