Being a Yooper

Dear George,

When I was a kid, the term “Yooper” hadn’t yet come into existence.  As far as I can tell, it entered mass circulation in the early 1970’s.  Once out there, however, it crystallized a lot of people’s life experiences, providing a shared identity based upon place.  Like being a Texan or a New Yorker or a Hoosier.  A narrow definition of “Yooper” simply means somebody who lives or grew up in and identifies with the U.P. (Michigan’s Upper Peninsula).  However, the meaning of the word is a lot broader, with associations to geography, climate, population, economy, rural/urban context, the natural environment, lifestyles, attitudes and values.  I tried to capture some of what “Yooper” means to me in the poem below.  Everybody’s associations to being a Yooper are to some degree unique, but this is my version.

Love,

Dave

Being a Yooper

Driving north on M-35

Green Bay is just to the right

Blue-green water glistening in the sun

Tipped by the whites of the waves

To the left, pine forests stretch for miles

A six-point buck pauses, darts across the road

Lunch stop at Paddy’s Bar, Cedar River

Butter burgers that melt in your mouth

Soon we’ll be in Escanaba

I grew up in the Upper Peninsula

The people there call themselves Yoopers

Yoopers are those who live in the U.P. 

While Downstaters are known as Trolls

Trolls, of course, are beings who live under the bridge

The Trolls, we believe, are envious of Yoopers

So we let them cross the bridge in the month of July

The U.P., in large part, is a wilderness

Its forests cover millions of acres

Pine and spruce, cedar, maple and oak

Here a pristine lake, there a waterfall

A Great Blue Heron skimming over the pond 

In hidden places a bear or a moose                 

My home town is named Menominee

“The Land of the Wild Rice Eaters”

Nine thousand, the U.P.’s fourth largest city

One stoplight, one high school, eight taverns

The Marina, Henes Park, the Interstate Bridge

It’s spread for three miles along the bay shore

People in Menominee are friendly and kind

They’re fanatic about the Green Bay Packers

Strong passion for boating and sailing

For hunting and fishing and camping

For Jim Beam whiskey, creamed herring, and pasties

Our family lived out in the country

In a house built of Norway pine

We spent summer days in the river

Splashing and swimming, diving off our raft

Searching for golden doubloons in the mud

Backstroking across the Pig Island

Our treehouse was in the great oaks

The willow was best for climbing

Steven and I had daily acorn fights

We raced barefoot on the gravel driveway

Searched for antlers in the woods

Shot at tin cans with the twenty-two

And played night basketball all winter long

Deer came to feed in our garden

There were porcupine nests in the maples

Huge pine snakes lived next to our chimney

The chipmunks stole seeds from the feeder

At dusk the snapping turtles swam by

U.P. winters were harsh

Sometimes zero, even ten below

Our cheeks got red, our noses burned

The snowdrifts reached three or four feet

My father towed our toboggan behind his car

Icicles stretched from the eaves to the ground

Snowbound, the county road would close, vacation time

At sixteen we went to hunting camp

Our dads played cards and drank Silver Cream beer

We rose at five to take our posts

Freezing, I sat motionless for hours

Waiting for a wayward deer

No luck

In high school we borrowed the family car

And cruised the Twin City loop

Drag-raced at the stoplight

Waited at the drawbridge

The girls walked in pairs along Ogden Ave.

Waiting for the boys to pick them up

Root beer at the A&W

Perhaps the 64 drive-in

Menominee was a blue collar town

Many grownups worked with their hands

College degrees were infrequent

And there wasn’t much gap between rich and poor

All of the teens went to Menominee High

Every one of us, I’d say, was a Yooper

I’m lucky I grew up in the U.P.

It’s a thoroughly remarkable place

Perhaps we were lacking in big city smarts

No ballet, museums, or opera

But people were warm and honest and caring

And as kids we were free and secure

Life was filled with high adventure

Who could ask for more than that?