If you’re a beer chuggin’, bug swattin’, moose shootin’ kinda person…you might be a Yooper.
And that’s a good thing.
After hanging out in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, I realized how advanced Yoopers are. They truly understand the meaning of life and live by the golden rule.
Being a Yooper (as in UPer) is a badge of honor, proudly worn by folks who seek isolation, deer jerky and horrible weather. Actually, there are two seasons in da U.P., winter and August. When it’s not freezing cold, the mosquitos are insufferable. The joke goes that if you pass someone changing a flat, don’t stop to help. Just toss out some bug spray as you drive by. They can fix the tire. What they really need is repellent.
How refreshing to be a Yooper. To be mindful, live in the moment and take life in stride.
Here’s my take. When us city slickers come to the U.P., they don’t judge. Yoopers are kind and neighborly. Simple on the outside, but zen masters in the art of selflessness. I mentioned to a neighbor that I needed a ladder to change some light bulbs. An hour later, three ladders appeared. No note, no text.
It’s what Yoopers do.
Yoopers are fiercely independent and want to be left alone. Social distancing is a way of life. But when someone needs help, Yoopers are the first to step up.
Returning to the mainland is a shock to the system. Back to the harsh realities of us versus them, I got mine, now go get yours.
Tucked under Lake Superior, the U.P should really be part of Canada. But I’m sure glad they’re ours.