I write this tale from the Great white north where even the atomic structure of molecules has been slowed because of the molases like cold. It’s Halloween. It’s Sunday. The street in front of our tiny rented domicile is quiet, yet bathed in a deceivingly warm sunlight that masks the frigid temperatures that have moved down from the barren stretches of Canada. Last night, countless numbers of Michigan ghouls and goblins and general delinquents braved the frosty 20 degree temperatures to bang on our glass front door. With every painful “Trick or Treat”, Alexander, wearing his neon purple and green dinosaur suit, raced to the portal. He greeted each frozen, sinister face with a “hey” and a toss of a snickers bar into their sacks. We’ve been here two weeks and the overwhelming stress that has hovered around Dana and myself like a bad case of pastrami gas is finally subsiding. The move from Eastern North Carolina was uneventful if not tiring, and not without collateral damage. The dryer, the book shelves, the exercise bike, all will be decorated with purple hearts from the U-Haul high command. After 20 hours, we had made it. The Holiday Inn neon sign blared from the highway like a golden beacon to sailors returning from months at sea. We ate a quick meal, and while Zander pulled out every drawer, and unrolled his second roll of toilet paper, Dana and I perused the paper for places to call home. With the choices narrowed to four, and with no knowledge of our new city, and armed only with fear and a map, we headed out into the unknown. By noon, it was obvious that we had to make a decision, afterall, the U-Haul was due back tomorrow, and it was still crammed full of cats, crap and personal possessions in the back of the holiday inn parking lot. “Yes, Dana,” I said to my weary wife, “I do believe we’ll take the house with the duct tape colored nasty exterior.” She agreed and it was done. Amazingly, we passed another move-in credit evaluation. With that done, the tiresome process of downloading the 27 foot long monstrosity of steel and diesel began. A couple of junior college kids were hired at 8 dollars an hour for additional muscle. “Somewhere back here, there’s a 30 pound black cat named Jack,” I told one of the choir boy looking youths. He smiled wondering what kind of David Koresh wannabe was moving into the neighborhood. After an hour, the cargo bay was almost empty. Still, no signs of Jack, until the choir boy let out a deafening scream and fell backward. He and Jack had a close up encounter of the third kind. I hustled Jack off into the darkness of the basement. Unpacking was a nightmare. You see the duct tape castle we now called home was a two bedroom egg carton compared with the ten room southern mansion we had left. “Where the hell are we gonna put all this crap we keep dragging with us around the country,” I sighed to Dana. She shrugged and kept stuffing newspaper into the corner. So far work has been strangely exciting. I feel there are a lot of expectations on me to produce, but considering I have to ask for directions to the bathroom, finding all the breaking stories may take a while. I guess I should give myself a little credit. In the four days I’ve been doing stories, I was the lead three times. Once with an exclusive story on a 62 year old child molestor, and once with a murder suspect arrested and a court house brawl which broke out. Any, way, things here in Grand Rapids are cold, but good. Our house isn’t huge but it’s real cozy. Zander is happy and Dana likes the city. What else is there in life. Sorry we’re giving you this stock letter, but there’s a lot of you out there to update. We’ll be in touch shortly. Love the Cordans.
PHONE NUMBER: 616-361-9277 ADRESS: 1810 CENTER AVE. N.E.
GRAND RAPIDS MICHIGAN 49503