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Click here. A cabin in the woods. The editor travels through time, revisiting an old haunt and old friends. Where it came from, I don't know. What triggered it remains as mysterious as its absence across nearly three decades. Call it, perhaps, a hidden albatross.
For I realize now it had heft and substance -- the weight of a personal curtain that closed off, kept shielded, a significant portion of my life The idea occurred to me on Friday, July 15 -- the day before I left the Island upon which I was vacationing.
Normally, I return from such a vacation by traveling straight through Michigan and into Ohio before turning left and heading toward New York -- although on occasion I'll stop along the way for a night's rest at a motel. This time, I thought, I might change the pattern, and this was the idea: I would veer west after traveling south from Cheboygan and Mackinaw City in the extreme north of Michigan's Lower Peninsula.
My turnoff would come an hour south of the Mackinac Bridge, at Gaylord -- a community in which I, long ago, resided from time to time across a span of years.
You see, my parents bought a cabin in the woods there, five miles or so west of Gaylord, back in the mids, during my teen years, and enlarged it into a four-bedroom home although we always referred to it as "the cabin".