The last street I lived on was in the Upper Peninsula, Michigan. It was a charming, romantic, leafy and historic road full of trade, medical discoveries, a shooting, and a murder. It reminds me of a particular song by Nat King Cole. I especially love when a place can capture not only your imagination but an entire emotion. And I do love an older tune.
The building I lived in was 120 years old and was previously a hotel. It has been converted into modern accommodation and offices. Two doors to my left are two large buildings that saw the trade of over $2 million dollars worth of fur in the 1880’s – when fur cost 10c each.
Metres away in a hotel that still stands today, a murder took place that has never been solved. A woman staying at the hotel was sexually assaulted and strangled with her own lingerie. Further down the street is the site where a man was accidentally shot in the 1870’s and his bullet wound refused to heal correctly. This wound was then observed by a physician into a portion of what we know today about the human digestive system. At one end of the street is a large park overlooking docking yachts and a bustling downtown. The other end, is a blissful Great Lake, where days are spent watching ferries move back and forth across the straits.
I fall asleep to the sounds of horse shoes hitting the pavement, as the only form of transportation other than walking or riding a bike. The sun seems to always shine on this street and I often sat by my window and watched it go by. I always find something fascinating about the street where I live.
The street where you live is often the place in the world you spend most of your time but know little about. What has happened on the street where you live?